A/H M/M MA The Surgeon's Art by AZARAD

The Surgeon's Art is a tale set in the Spanish prison after Horatio and his men return honoring their parole. Horatio and Archie have time to talk...
Rated MA

Helen in Houston writing as AZARAD

The Surgeon's Art by Azarad

In the middle of the afternoon, the sun beat upon the thick stones of the fortress turning the rooms into ovens. This oppressive heat must to be the cause of Archie's restless slumber, thought Horatio, watching with growing concern as his friend tossed on the narrow prison cot. At least they had plenty of water. The Spaniards had been decent when the English sailors returned. The sailors heard cheers rather than curses as they were marched to their cells. Generously, the guards had given the men clean bedding and plenty of provisions this time. Even so, prison confinement was unpleasant and the heat made it worse.

Poor Archie, thought Horatio, dragging a stool closer to the bed. Into a shallow plate, he poured water and then he riffled his gear for a scrap of cloth. He reached out to wipe his friend's brow. Without warning, Archie threw his arms up to protect his face as he rolled suddenly away, whimpering in his sleep.

"It's only me, Archie!" Horatio exclaimed, rubbing his cheek where he'd been struck, blotting the spilled water from his breeches with his shirt tail. Then he placed a firm hand on his shipmate's shoulder only to discover the man was trembling, quaking in fear inside his nightmare.

"Good God! Wake up, Archie. What's wrong with you? Are you ill?"

There was no response. Horatio grabbed his friend and shook him, trying to bring him up from the depths of his dream. Archie struggled to get away. This was different from the fits he'd suffered. He was dreaming--no doubt reliving some dreadful moment from his past. Suddenly, Archie sat up, his eyes wide with terror but unseeing, his fists beating weakly against Horatio's chest.

"No more!" Archie cried out, sobbing bitterly, collapsing again onto the hard bed, and covering his head with his arms.

"Please, Archie, wake up," Horatio pleaded. "It's only me. No one else. Archie, do you hear me?"

Archie only twisted from one uncomfortable posture to another. Horatio was desperate. He didn't want to shake him again. Yet, he must try to bring him out of the dream. The water! Horatio poured out a little more and dipped his fingers into the dish. He dripped the cool liquid drop by drop onto Archie's dry lips. He watched as he swallowed and opened his mouth for more. Horatio remembered the rain during one of his nights in the punishment cell. The water had tasted so sweet, so refreshing. He'd slept then, in spite of the many discomforts of the wet, cramped enclosure.

The cool water seemed to refresh Archie too. He quieted. His breathing returned to the long, slow regularity of dreamless sleep. The exhausted body permitted Horatio's touch and he was able to wipe the cool, damp rag across his shipmate's brow. Soft lips followed, bidding him sleep a while longer in peace.

---

"Horatio? What happened to you?" Archie asked softly, as his eyes squinting against the last brilliant rays of the setting sun streaming into their cell.

"What do you mean, Archie?" Horatio said, rousing himself, frowning slightly completely puzzled by his friend's question. "Nothing's happened to me. You've been dreaming."

"But, your cheek is bruised."

"Really?"

"Fetch the glass. See for yourself."

Horatio stared at his reflection in the tiny mirror. Plain as day, a dark bruise marred his pale left cheek. He sighed. How could he be honest without hurting Archie's feelings even more? No lie came readily to his lips. He hesitated. Guilt already caused his eyes to drop away from the gaze of his friend.

"Who came here and hurt you?" Archie growled. "I'll kill the man."

"It's really nothing, Archie. Moreover, you can't harm the person who did it. It was my own fault!"

"Don't tell me you fell. You used that excuse on board the Justinian. Did one of the guards hit you?"

"No. Nothing like that. We've been quite alone all afternoon."

Horatio smiled at Archie and sat down on the little bed next to him. He slid his arm around his friend's shoulders and lay down next to him.

"You mustn't worry about it, Archie. I dream sometimes too."

Archie rose on one elbow and looked down at Horatio, his dark curls fanned across the bedding, his sparkling eyes gazing upward unwilling to meet his friend's eyes.

Archie asked in a hushed whisper, "Did I hit you?"

Gently, Horatio met Archie's gaze and stroked back his comrade's fair hair with an affectionate caress. "You were having a nightmare. I tried to wake you. Clearly, the wrong course of action, I'm afraid." Horatio laughed a little and nestled closer to his shipmate. He felt Archie's posture stiffen and draw away.

"Really Archie!" Horatio exclaimed, resisting the urge to clutch at his friend. "It was just a glancing blow. I know you didn't mean it."

All along his length, Horatio could feel Archie trembling. He was drawing himself inward again, hiding his suffering and trying to fend off some awful memory. Horatio felt helpless. Why wouldn't Archie listen to him, believe him? Why couldn't he understand that he had nothing to fear? Horatio sighed and stroked his friend's back. The trembling lessened and Archie relaxed against him. They dozed a while.

Horatio thought of his father treating men wounded in the wars. Some of them had suffered the loss of limbs. Even so, they complained of fierce pains in arms or legs they no longer had. His father explained to him that their minds had not yet understood their loss. In other cases, his father treated wounds that would not heal because of splinters deep within them. He remembered how his father tended the suffering soldiers as the fragments worked their way to the surface and were drawn out.

With a puzzled frown, Horatio wondered whether Archie suffered from something similar? Did his mind contain a fragment, some evil splinter that caused his fits and dreams? Certainly, in his dreams the fragment rose to the surface. Somehow it must be drawn. Horatio looked down at the peacefully sleeping man next to him. Where to begin, he asked himself.

Half an hour later, nearly the time the guards would appear with their supper, Archie stirred. He murmured a name. "Jacob" He rubbed his head like a cat against Horatio's shoulder and ran his hands along the length of his shipmate's body. Horatio didn't move. He wondered if Archie were dreaming again. Had he and a fellow named Jacob been intimate? The touches were growing warmer. Finally, Horatio decided it was time to speak up.

"Archie," Horatio whispered. "Please wake up."

A low voice replied, "Huh?"

Archie's hands drew back as if they'd touched burning coals. He tried to disengage himself from his embrace. Horatio caught his right hand and laid it across his chest, enfolding his friend's arm in his own, keeping them joined.

Quietly, Horatio asked, "When you were little, what frightened you the most? Was it thunder?"

"How did you guess?" Archie croaked, his voice rough from sleep or passion.

"I was afraid of it too," Horatio replied candidly. "So much so that my father allowed our dog to sleep in my room on stormy nights."

"The dog protected you?"

"No, just the reverse, you see. The dog was more afraid than I was. I comforted the creature and I came to grips with my own fear."

A long sigh and a great yawn preceded Archie's response. Grimly, he said, "I learned there were greater things to fear... My own father was one of them."

"What do you mean?" Horatio asked, strengthening his embrace when he felt a shudder run through Archie's body.

"My father was away most of my early life. A plantation in Virginia and a fleet of ships kept him very busy. My mother raised me with a flock of maiden aunts. When we heard that Father was on his way home, I was instructed to be polite and very brave. Frederick our head groom, a German, taught me how to stand at attention. He taught me to ride as well.

Well, the Great Bear greatly unsettled our happy home. And, he caught me being afraid. We were out hunting and a sudden storm came up. The first clap of thunder startled me. My pony reared. I managed to remain in the saddle but the pony stepped on one of the hounds. To this day, I carry the memory of the storm, the rain lashing down as my father beat my pony. The rain hid my tears or surely he would have thrashed me too. All the way home, he threatened to beat me if I ever shamed him with another display of cowardice.

I was only six years old, Horatio. Already, I dreaded my life when I was under his eye. At nine years of age, Mother sent me away to school. She wanted me to study for the clergy. When I turned twelve, Father sent me to military school. At fourteen I ran away from all of them and lived with a pair of young actors in London. I sold all my finery and we lived like princes until my father found me and sent me into exile with the Royal Navy. Then, just before my fifteenth birthday, I met Jack Simpson on board the Justinian."

There, Archie paused. Quickly, Horatio added his own memory, hoping to keep Archie talking a while longer. "I remember my first minute on board that ship. I was wet and freezing cold. You welcomed me to purgatory."

Archie gave a snorting sort of laugh. "I should have been more honest and called it hell."

Coolly, with a surgeon's skill, Horatio probed the past. Innocently, he asked, "How were things on the Justinian, Archie, before I arrived?"

As if the curtain on the stage closed, Archie turned away. He muttered, "I committed acts for which I am truly ashamed, Horatio. Things I now wish to forget."

A knock on the door. Both men sat up. Archie leaped out of the bunk first. The jailers entered with their supper. Rice and cold roast chicken, some boiled greens and a small flask.

"Don Masaredo wishes you to enjoy your meal, senores," the young guard said after he arranged the dishes.

"Please convey our sincere thanks to our host," Archie replied as he uncorked the flask. He raised his brows as he sniffed the heady scent of the brandy.

(to be continued...)





Subject: Re: The Surgeon's Art (Part Two)

Dearest Readers... Forgive mistakes and the roughness of this draft but the Real World makes too many demands right now. Hope this view of prison life for our young sailors tides you over for a bit. Rated PG. More additions may appear in later versions. Comments always appreciated.

Helen in Houston (writing as AZARAD)

The Surgeon's Art (Part Two)
by AZARAD

(The first few lines are from the end of part one. They are repeated in order to set the mood...)





Coolly, with a surgeon's skill, Horatio probed the past. Innocently, he asked, "How were things on board the Justinian, Archie, before I arrived?"

As if the curtain on the stage closed, Archie turned away. He muttered, "I committed acts for which I am truly ashamed, Horatio. Things I now wish to forget."

A knock on the door. Both men sat up. Archie leaped out of the bunk first. The jailers entered with their supper. Rice and cold roast chicken, some boiled greens and a small flask.

"Don Masaredo wishes you to enjoy your meal, senores," the young guard said after he arranged the dishes.

"Please convey our sincere thanks to our host," Archie replied as he uncorked the flask. He raised his brows as he sniffed the heady scent of the brandy.

~

The young men ate with young, wolfish appetites. Horatio poured the brandy into Archie's cup and by the end of the meal, Archie was a merry soul. Horatio had cut his own spirit ration with spring water. He watched his friend and calculated his next move. He'd rarely seen Archie at ease. Seemed a shame to break the mood.

"Have you ever been truly drunk, Horatio?" Archie asked with a foolish grin on his handsome face.

"Never, Archie," Horatio replied solemnly, admiring his friend's relaxed features, pleased to see Archie smile again and even laugh.

"Then I must fill your cup!" Archie exclaimed.

"No, Mr. Kennedy! No, thank you. I'm content with what I have. I'm cheered more by pleasant company and good conversation."

"I should think you'd prefer the company of the Duchess."

Horatio hesitated in his answer. He just raised the corner of his generous mouth and gave shook his head.

Archie dropped his gaze and blushed. He muttered, "I don't deserve a friend like you, Horatio. You know that, don't you?"

"Have another drink, Archie."

"Only if you fill your own cup too."

"A toast to the Indy then? Long may she sail."

"The Indy"

They touched the rims of their cups and tipped them to their lips. Archie gulped down the potent liquor. Horatio sipped his and placed his cup back on the table. He reached for Archie's and poured him another drink. The little bottle was nearly empty. Archie was leaning back in his chair, his feet up on the edge of the table.

Horatio crossed his long legs and got comfortable himself. Then he said, "Tell me about the theater, Archie. About your actor friends."

"All right," Archie said, with a huge grin and much batting of his sleepy eyes. "But only because you insist." Then, he added, "Before I begin, first tell me what you know of the stage."

"Very little, I'm afraid," Horatio confessed. "I've only seen one play in London. Shakespeare's Hamlet."

Archie interjected, "A good play. Lots of scenes of fighting."

"You'll laugh at me, Archie, when I tell you what I remember best."

"Tell me," Archie ordered, moving his chair closer to his friend.

Horatio leaned forward and whispered in a very conspiratorial way, "Every time the hero spoke to his friend, I thought he was talking to me."

Archie burst out laughing. "Oh, I know the scenes you mean! Would you like to learn the lines? We could amuse ourselves for the rest of our stay here."

"I'd like that very much. I'd also like to understand the speeches. It seemed to me that Hamlet and his Horatio were the dearest of friends."

"They suffered adversity together. It brought them closer."

"I never had a close friend growing up..."

"Well, you have me now, although I'm of little use."

"You are of great use to me, Archie. Now, please, tell me more about the plays you've been in. About your friends too."

So Archie began his tale. "When I first arrived in London, I didn't know a soul. I went immediately to the theater and watched the first play of the afternoon. It was a bawdy tale of young lovers running from the girl's parents. After the performance I went around back and asked for the stage manager. He allowed me to read for him. And, I was hired on the spot. Then I met Tristan and Lancelot. I'm not sure what their real names were... They introduced me to Hugo and Jacob. I ended up going home with the second pair, and they took care of me. I paid them back...in different ways."

Archie began to blush and stammer a little. Horatio waited, his eyes wide and his mouth open, anticipating what Archie might say next. Archie was quite animated. He reached for his cup and gulped down its contents. Horatio poured out the last of the brandy into Archie's cup.

Just then, Archie frowned. His eyes seemed to focus on the cup. Then he raised his gaze to Horatio, staring at him as if he'd never met him. Archie's face glistened with a sheen of sweat. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his trousers. He was beginning to breathe faster. The frown lines deepened. He seemed to grow tense right in front of Horatio.

"What's wrong, Archie?" Horatio asked, his voice only a whisper.

"You are trying to get me drunk," Archie stated somberly, his mood completely changed.

"I hoped to put you at ease," Horatio replied.

"NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"Archie!" Horatio called. "No one will hurt you. Least of all me. Listen to me."

At that moment, Archie's body arched and twisted. He fell to the floor as the fit wracked him. He seemed to lash out desperately, as if trying to fend off invisible demons. Horatio hurried to move the chairs. Then he grabbed the blanket from the bunk. Ensnaring his friend's arms, he sat with Archie on the floor, cradling his head in his lap, preventing injury. He waited and wondered what to do next.

The fit lasted far longer than others Horatio had witnessed. Could it have been the brandy, he wondered?

"Archie," he called. "Please forgive me. I only wanted to help you."



Horatio's voice caught in a sob as he spoke to his shipmate. "You must understand, Archie. I think you need to purge the bad memories, not bury them. We must remove the fragments festering within you. Only then will you heal. Do you hear me, Archie?"

The suffering body slowly began to calm. Horatio's soothing continued and as if waking from sleep, Archie stretched. He focused his gaze upon his companion and smiled weakly.

"Did I go off again?"

"Do you remember anything?"

"No."

"I think you must try. Please, Archie. If you bring up those memories voluntarily, you will be free of them. I'm sure my father would agree with my diagnosis."

"I'm ashamed of what I did."

"On my honor, I'll not repeat a word."

"I trust you, Horatio. I don't trust myself."

"Would it help you if I guessed what's troubling you? I believe I have some evidence from my days aboard the Justinian."

Archie went suddenly pale. He gripped Horatio's arms and buried his face against his comrade's chest. He trembled.

Horatio enfolded him in his embrace, rocking him slowly, not saying a word until the worst had past. Sensing a calming, Horatio whispered, "Jack betrayed you, didn't he?"

Archie answered, speaking into the rumpled linen of Horatio's shirt. "Jack said he loved me. He said he'd keep me safe from the others."

"But instead, he hurt you," Horatio added, stroking Archie's golden hair.

"He pried out my secret. He said he'd tell the captain if I ever accused him."

Holding his friend firmly, Horatio continued, "Then, he became increasingly brutal. Am I right, Archie?"

"Yes..." Archie replied, his voice a painful whimper.

Horatio kissed the top of his friend's head. He rocked him and said, "Archie, Jack Simpson is dead. He will never hurt you again. Believe me, I saw him die. I watched as they dropped his body into the sea. You are free of him. Now, you must free yourself of his memory."





"But, Horatio... Don't you see? I liked what he did, at first. Such feelings are unnatural. They are against God's canon. I'm as guilty as he was."

"God's law forbids harm. It does not forbid love. Jonathan loved David. Don't you remember that story?"

"They were friends. Like Hamlet and Horatio..."

"Are you so certain?"

"I don't know what to believe," Archie said, relaxing at last and making himself snug in Horatio's embrace.

"Well, here's what I know. I believe there are more things on heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

"That's one of Hamlet's lines, Horatio."

"Then you must say the line to me and you must believe it."

"Lie with me on my bunk, Horatio. You can't be comfortable sitting here on the floor."

Horatio hugged his friend and whispered, "I don't remember Hamlet inviting his Horatio to his bed."

"We really don't know if he did or not."

Archie helped Horatio up from the floor and they reclined on their sides facing one another in Archie's narrow bed. In spite of the heat, they held each other, out of a sense of needing to feel safe. They searched each other's expressions, and finally, Archie took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

"Horatio?" Archie asked, " When did you first discover self-pleasure?"

With much blinking of his dark eyes, Horatio answered, "I don't know... I was quite young. Of course, Father caught me. He was kind, and warned me not to do it in public."

"My mother was hysterical when my tutor informed on me."

"My father thinks it is natural for boys. Of course, he says one must practice restraint as one grows older. Too much of the activity will lead to depleted vitality."

"When was your last time?"

"I can't say."

"Then, how would you like me to show you what Jacob taught me?"

Horatio nodded his curly head and reclined.

"What shall I do?" He asked, his dark eyes large, luminous and soft.

"Nothing, yet." Archie grinned as his nimble fingers found the hem of Horatio's shirt. With a quick tug, he pulled the garment over the dark unruly curls of his friend's head.

Horatio's skin seemed like warm ivory silk in the fading light. Archie brushed back the wild hair and traced the arching brows, following the path of the high cheekbones to a generous mouth. Then he ran his fingertips along the curving collarbones, down the wide sternum and back up his friend's slender throat, feeling the quickening pulse, learning the places where Horatio's inner fires burned.

A sharp intake of breath. A shiver. A long, agonizing exhalation... clear evidence that Archie's victim could not conceal his secrets under the slow, sensuous torture. Soft lips and sharp teeth followed the scouting fingertips. Horatio trembled and clenched his jaw against a deep moan. On instinct alone, his arms surrounded Archie, pressing him close.

"The anticipation is savage when the hand is not your own. Am I right?" Archie murmured into his comrade's ear.

>From experience, he expected no coherent answer. Gooseflesh rose on the little waves of his ribcage. The moist ivory skin, wet with passion's sweat tasted like the sea. Tender kisses raised two coral points. From Horatio's throat, came low, almost painful sounds. Time to board.

Archie rolled his prize to his back breaking their embrace. Both young men were breathing hard. Archie got to his knees and slid one between his friend's long legs. Horatio's head was thrown back against the thin pillow, his dark curls surrounding a tortured martyr's face, his eyes closed, his nostrils flaring, the tip of his tongue trying to moisten his swollen lips as he swallowed painfully.

When Archie saw his friend so defenseless, he hesitated. He reached out his hand and caressed Horatio's cheek until the dark eyes opened and the mouth smiled.

"Oh dear!" Horatio sighed.

"Are you up for more?" Archie asked.

Horatio merely nodded his head weakly, a longing look in his eyes as he lifted his naked arms out to his friend. Archie fell upon him like a lion on a lamb. Teeth deep at the exposed throat, thigh pressing hard flesh at Horatio's groin. Savage kisses from crown to crotch. Nimbly, fingers loosened what remained of clothing. Struggling like wrestlers in the narrow confines of the bunk, the young men waged passion's war as Spanish stars filled heaven's vault.

Released at last from lust's grip, they slept together on their rumpled battlefield amid the sticky evidence of ardent combat. About midnight, Horatio woke and rose to go to his own bunk. He gazed at his companion who lay face down on the bed. Horatio pulled a thin blanket up over Archie's wide shoulders. Then he stroked the golden head, damp yet with sweat. He kissed his friend's cheek.

His own bed was cold. Worse yet, sleep proved elusive. Archie slept undisturbed, his breathing deep and rhythmic. Horatio tossed. No position felt comfortable. He shivered under his own thin covering. He got up and dressed himself. The moon was shining brightly outside and it seemed to beckon. He needed to relieve himself. A short walk in the courtyard would be all right.

Any minute, the guard on the wall should be pacing the fire step above, Horatio thought, as he unbuttoned his breeches and relieved himself. He sighed and smiled remembering Archie's warm touches. A tingle of pleasure thrilled up his spine as he handled himself. All at once, he heard the scrape of boots on the flagstones... Horatio hurried with his buttons and spun around to face whoever was creeping up behind him.

"Pardon moi, monsieur. I have interrupted your privacy," said a sour faced man in heavily accented English. A melodic, yet faintly menacing tone vibrated within the voice.

"Oui, monsieur," Horatio answered, blushing. "However, I've finished.

The Frenchman eyed the younger man for several moments without speaking. Under the stranger's snakelike gaze, Horatio shifted from one foot to the other. The other man did not seem to exhibit any signs of embarrassment at their awkward meeting. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying the discomfort he was causing the naval officer.

Unable to stand the silence, the younger man blurted out, "Horatio Hornblower, at your service, sir. Presently a prisoner of war, but previously lieutenant in his Britannic Majesty's Navy aboard the Frigate Indefatigable."

Horatio spoke in quite good French, equally proud of his rank and the presence of mind to begin introductions under the circumstances. The other man took out an exquisite pair of gold rimmed spectacles and began cleaning them meticulously.

"I am Major Pierre Ducos," the officer in no uniform replied simply. "It seems I have found you, at last."

"Me?"

"I am seeking to unlock some mysteries. I think you are my key. You will come with me, please."

The man's words were an order, not a request. Horatio stepped away from the man who reached out to take his arm.

"Where are you planning to take me?" Horatio asked, inching away.

"To my room at the inn." The stranger stated coldly, staring myopically.

"I must protest, sir." Horatio said, drawing himself up to his full height, several inches taller than the Frenchman.

The Frenchman purred, "I hate calling my sergeant. He has been known to damage my informants."

Standing his ground, Horatio demanded, "Has Don Masaredo been informed? I must speak to my men before I place myself in your custody."

All the while, Horatio counted the weapons the man wore and weighed his chances. For a night's stroll, the Frenchman was heavily armed. Two pistols and a sword. A cold chill shuddered through Horatio's body as the man observed him. All Horatio wanted was to get his hands on one of those pistols.

The Major loosened a pair of heavy, iron manacles from his belt as he calmly watched his wide eyed prey. A submissive raising of Horatio's hands brought a crooked, evil smile to the thin lips and the little, squinting eyes. Then Horatio launched himself, punching hard to the man's soft belly, ramming his knee upward into the man's groin. The man crumpled and fell with a loud groan. A fist to the jaw finished him.

Horatio disarmed the Frenchman and dragged him to the small cell he shared with Archie. At the sounds of the door being kicked open, Archie sat up. He gave Horatio a horrified look when he saw the spatters of blood and the sprawled body at his friend's feet. Archie leaped from his bunk and helped his friend with the stranger. He was relieved somewhat when he learned the man was still breathing. Then, each of the young men tucked one of the loaded pistols in his belt. Horatio laid the sword on the table.



Fetching some water and a cloth Horatio began to examine the injured man's head.

Archie whispered to him as he worked, "Horatio, we've given our parole. They'll hang us if this man dies."

Horatio answered Archie in a solemn tone. He replied, "I know that, Archie. Just remember, you had no part in this. Do you understand?" He spoke slowly and quietly, as if forcing himself to remain calm.

Archie only frowned and rinsed out the cloth. Then he stammered, "Well? What, in heaven's name, happened?"

"He wanted to question me."

"What do you mean?" Archie tried to shake himself awake.

The two men got up and crossed the room toward their small sea chests and Horatio began rummaging about. He still spoke quietly, but his voice trembled.

"He would have marched me away without a word," Horatio explained.

Archie grabbed his friend's arm and looked deeply into his eyes. "Then, you would have disappeared." A look of horror filled Archie's expression.

"I'm afraid so. But now, what must we do?"

"Call Don Masaredo, our jailer. Make a formal complaint about the incident."

"Yes. I think that is prudent."

Suddenly a scraping sound and heavy footsteps caught their attention. They turned to see the unconscious Frenchman newly risen to life and snatching up the sword. The man drove the point straight toward Horatio's heart just as Archie fired the pistol he had taken. The man fell bleeding and died moments later in Horatio's arms. The solitary guard called to them. Then they heard the man's footsteps. There was nothing else to do but surrender.

When the guard stepped across the threshold, Horatio lay the man down on the floor and slowly stood up straight. Blood drenched his shirt. His hands were red with it. Archie stood just behind him, pale and trembling, breathing in gasps. The pistol and sword lay as evidence on the floor next to the body. The room reeked of blood and the smoke of burned powder.

Horatio hissed a stern order, "Say nothing."

In broken Spanish and gestures, Horatio indicated that the man attacked him and Horatio had defended himself. No. His fellow officer was not involved. When other guards appeared, one went to fetch Don Masaredo. A short while later, the old gentleman appeared.

"Mr. Hornblower," he began sadly, "I am amazed at you. How could such a thing occur in the middle of the night?"

"This man came here like a thief to remove me from your care, Don Masaredo. Then he attacked me. I defended myself."

Archie paced and fretted. Horatio frowned at him.

Don Masaredo glanced at Archie too. He asked, "Shall I question your friend? I assume he witnessed the attack. Furthermore, I believe from past experience that you are far too eager to suffer for crimes committed by your shipmates. I do not need to explain the seriousness of this offense. Most of all, I would deeply regret placing the noose about your neck."

Soft, dark, pleading eyes met the Don's cool gaze. His head high even as his lips trembled, Horatio said, "Please, sir. I confess. Simply grant me a trial. Send word to Captain Pellew on the Indefatigable. I'm confident he will send a solicitor to defend me. My life remains in your hands."

"You would trust an English lawyer?"

"With my life, sir."

"You are braver than I, my young friend. I grant you your wish. Now, my men will dispose of the body. I will inform the French delegation of the situation. I am sure they will ask to sit in judgment at your trial. They may even petition to remove you to French soil."

"The jurisdiction is Spanish, sir. I am your prisoner."

"Then, I will see you remain so." **************

After Don Masaredo and his guards left their room, Horatio took off his shirt and poured himself a basin of water. Archie cleaned the bloody floor. In the eerie aftermath, both men acted calmly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. Horatio picked up the little cake of soap and began to wash his hands. Suddenly, like a clap of thunder, Archie grabbed the pale, bare shoulders and spun Horatio around.

He angrily hissed into his face, "What do you mean taking this crime upon your own head? I shot him. I killed him."

Horatio sighed. He brushed back Archie's hair. His hand was wet and a drop of water ran down Archie's cheek. The tears that glistened in Horatio's dark eyes finally spilled as he whispered, "If you confess now, Archie, they'll hang us both. Only one of us need die."

"But why Horatio? Why shield me?"

"Because I lived for months with your death on my conscience. I was overjoyed to find you alive. You've suffered enough. It's my turn now."

Archie couldn't say a word. Instead, he kissed his friend. He led him to his bunk and enfolded him. Horatio's pent up emotions finally broke from him in wracking sobs. He admitted he didn't want to die. He was afraid his courage would fail when they tied the noose. He pleaded with Archie to help him remain strong.

"You haven't even been tried yet, Horatio," Archie said soothingly. "You'll see. Captain Pellew will send a fine solicitor. He'll find a way to bring us all home safe."

The fiery emotions within them burned lower and they slept well past the dawn. Archie was the first to rise. He managed to brew them each a cup of tea. Where he found the tea or got the hot water were mysteries to his bunkmate. Their stale bread was as unpalatable as ever, but Horatio discovered strawberries under a napkin when he sat down at the table.

No one bothered them all that day. They slept together the next night and woke again at dawn. Horatio felt more like himself, resolute and in command of his emotions. He decided to speak to the rest of the men that morning. They were glad to see him and Mr. Kennedy. They complained of boredom. Archie suggested they mend their clothing.

Finally, Horatio stood up. "Men," he said in his quiet way as if about to lead them into Sunday prayers, "I am to be put on trial for murder. In my absence, you will obey Mr. Kennedy. Is that understood?"



Matthews was dumbfounded. He frowned and shuffled his feet. Oldroyd stared stupidly, blinking his eyes. Styles asked which one of the bastards he'd killed. Matthews jabbed an elbow into the man's beefy ribs. The rest of the men shook their heads and murmured other questions.

Finally, Matthews found his voice and answered for them all. "Aye, aye, sir. You can count on us, sir, for anything."

Horatio smiled. Matthews had implied that they would eagerly join him in killing even more of the enemy if such action became needed. Their young officer did not want that.

He shook his head. "Simply follow orders, all of you. No need to crowd the gallows."

Archie was staring at him when he finished the last word. Horatio paled visibly and leaned against the wall.

"Are ye unwell, sir?" Matthews asked.

"I'm fine, thank you. Just tired, I think."

"Very good, sir."

Archie walked over and took Horatio's arm. He led him to a bench in the shade of an olive tree. He motioned to Oldroyd to fetch them some water. The other men drifted to patches of shade nearer the buildings. They watched their officers like good sea dogs, awaiting orders.

Horatio laid his head against Archie's shoulder. He whispered, "What do you suppose Captain Pellew will say when he reads Don Masaredo's letter?"

"He'll write back immediately. He'll find us a brilliant legal mind."

"He'll be angry."

"The good captain will worry. And he'll come to save you, Horatio."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Trust me. Something in your heart knew he would help or you wouldn't have asked the Don to send the letter."

"If things go badly, Archie, I want your word that you'll say nothing. My conscience can't bear the weight of your death."

"What about my conscience, Horatio? Do you know what you are asking me to do? Will you perjure yourself and me too?"

"Honestly, I haven't decided what I will say during my trial. I'll discuss the case with our solicitor and then decide. It was not murder. That's the truth."

"We know Don Masaredo suspects we were both at fault for the man's death. Will he testify, do you suppose?"

"I don't know. I'm still quite stunned by the events. And, ..."

"I'm afraid too, Horatio. When you admit to it, facing it is easier."

"I'm not afraid to die. Not in battle..."

"I know. Don't think about it. Let's go inside. You look exhausted."

"No, let's walk instead. I want to breathe sea air a little longer."

So the young men went to the gatehouse and talked to Luis who opened the postern door for them. They promised to return in an hour.

Walking through the olive grove on the way to the beach, the young men noticed upturned earth. The Frenchman's grave? The mound of soil was of the right dimensions. Archie tried to steer Horatio starboard but he seemed pulled to the site. A glimpse of his own untimely fate?

Horatio frowned. The grave was newly dug, but empty. He stared a moment into the depths until his expression of curiosity was replaced by a look of shock. He took a deep breath, staggered and fell against Archie's chest, burying his face against the rough fabric of his friend's shirt.

Embracing arms comforted Horatio as he sought to gain some measure of control over his emotions. Archie assured him that the grave must have been dug for some local inhabitant. Not yet for him. He would have his trial. Captain Pellew would arrive. They might even see the Indy beating against the wind off the beach where they were now heading.

"Come along, Horatio. Please," Archie pleaded.

Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, Horatio followed Archie down to the beach. Not a sail in sight. Horatio's mood sank even lower. His companion nearly had to drag him to the point. Then they climbed to the rocky headland for a better view. Archie's heart was in turmoil. He gripped Horatio's shirt like a drowning man clutching a broken spar. Twice he jerked his companion back from the cliff's edge.

"I only wanted to see the waves, Archie," Horatio said too calmly.

"You might have slipped."

"If I'm found guilty, I'll come here. Better the waves and rocks than the noose."

"Horatio!" Archie shouted above the noisy sea. "I've had quite enough of this. More of such talk and I go straight to Don Masaredo and tell him everything. Do you understand me? We will face this trial together."

As if in a trance, Horatio said, "I must shield you."

"No, you must not!" Archie shook his friend. He screamed at him. "I'm no longer the invalid you found. Moreover, I'm no longer going to follow your orders if you continue to sink into madness."

Horatio shook his head slowly. He glanced at he black rocks below them. He rubbed the back of the hand that was twisted into his shirt. His other hand stroked Archie's cheek. "What shall become of us, Archie?" he asked.

"I don't know," Archie admitted. Then he said, "We must wait. I know a lot about waiting. It can drive you mad. We must see that it does not."

"I remember Hamlet's speech. To be or not to be..."

"Yes, he was thinking about self-slaughter. We all have such thoughts at times. But remember at the end of the play? What the dying Hamlet said to Horatio? He told him to live. To remember him, but not to follow him into death."

"I remember the morning my mother died. Father took me into her room to say my good-bye. She asked that I remember her. Now, I only remember how she looked at that moment. Frail and colorless, her skin like parchment, her hands cold as ice."

"Horatio, we must stay strong. Please, no more of this talk."

"Let's head back then. The Don will curtail our little walks if he thinks we might try to escape him."

For the rest of the day, Horatio was somber. His mood lightened somewhat over the next several weeks. At times, he even laughed at the antics of his sea dogs when they tried each day to cheer him. Through all the days of waiting, Archie quoted lines from Hamlet and they amused themselves with playacting. At night they lay in each other's embrace, together fending off their private demons.

Nearly a month later, a letter and a man arrived. Horatio tore at the heavy vellum letter, cracking the thick sea green wax seal. While Horatio devoured the contents of the letter, Archie introduced himself and his fellow officer to the solicitor, offering the envoy a glass of the local red wine. The trim, middle-aged man replied that his name was Leonides Andropolis. Then he drank the vintage in a single gulp. Archie watched him in awe. His build and coloring seemed average and forgettable, but a mobility of his sharp features and a slyness in the eyes gave Archie the impression that their captain had sent them an extraordinary advocate. When Archie heard the man's voice summarizing the plans he had made for meeting with the Spanish authorities, Archie was completely convinced of their salvation. Only a Greek orator or someone from the stage had such modulation and expression in his voice. The confidence the man had in his own presence made him seem like one of the immortal gods of antiquity.

Mouth gaping, Archie asked, "Would you like more wine?"

"No, thank you," their guest said politely, smiling in a way practiced to win over judges.

A glance in Horatio's direction drew Archie's mouth into a wide grin. His eyes brightened as he watched his friend read the welcome news from their comrades at sea. He asked his friend, "How is our Captain Pellew and the crew of the Indy?

"He's well. Suffering a little from a trifling wound, he says, on his right hand. I could tell. It's Bracegirdle's hand I'm reading. They met a Frenchman off Cabo Piedras Negras. Indy's being repaired at Gibraltar. He frets, I think. He wishes us good fortune. Orders us to follow the advice of our solicitor here."

"Tell us, sir," Archie addressed Mr. Andropolis. "How was our captain when you saw him last?"

"His hand was sliced to the bone across the palm. Seems his sword broke during the battle and he was forced to catch his opponent's blade by the forte to prevent a killing stroke." Their visitor paused when he noticed the wide-eyed expressions of terror in the faces of the younger men. Then he added, "Of course, I'm not as practiced with blades as I used to be... I may have gotten the story somewhat muddled."

"The wound is mending?" Horatio asked, his dark eyes full of worry.

"Of course, nearly healed."

"I'm glad," Horatio sighed.

"Come everyone," Archie said. "Let's get out of the sun and make our plans." He laced his arm around Horatio's and led him to their quarters. Then he asked their guest, "When have the Spanish decided to begin the trial?"

"Tomorrow morning."

Horatio suddenly leaned heavily against him. He shuddered, took a deep breath and then continued on inside...



Thursday evening was chilly and rainsqualls blew in off the sea. Mr. Andropolis decided to remain with his young clients rather than take the cold walk back to his rooms at the inn. From his bag, he pulled out a small flask. He poured the precious liquor into tin cups for Horatio and Archie. He drank from the flask himself.

About a quarter hour later, Horatio was fast asleep. Archie was nodding a bit. Mr. Andropolis was wide-awake. He threw a blanket over the sleeping young lieutenant and drew Archie to the table. Then the barrister brought out his small thin notebook. He made his notes in a precise hand in the Cyrillic Alphabet.

"I want you to tell me exactly what happened the night Mr. Ducos died."

"I promised Horatio that I would say nothing."

"Then I promise you that you will watch him swing."

"But you were sent to save us."

"I was sent to save HIM. You, on the other hand, may rot here if you don't cooperate. Do you catch my meaning, young man?"

The man's eyes were as cold and deep as the North Atlantic. His words sent a chill up Archie spine. For the first time with their solicitor, Archie felt naked fear. He looked toward his sleeping friend and then back into the grim sharp features across the table. A wolf's cold glare, savage and determined met his timid gaze. The younger man felt as if he were a deer that the pack had begun to hunt and this was the very creature about to tear out his throat. Archie swallowed painfully.

"I confess. I shot the man. I don't know why Horatio took the blame. He forced me to promise to remain silent. He's too protective to allow me my place next to him on the gallows. But, you must understand... I am willing to die for him. Is that what you want me to do? Is that how you plan to save him?

"Nothing quite so dramatic, Mr. Kennedy. Although it would make a fine book or play. Be at ease and tell me more of the man you believe you killed."

Archie described the snakelike glare of Major Ducos, his small spectacles, his expensive pistols, his fine blade. He was dressed in the height of Paris fashion, the fancy striped silk lining of his coat unusual in lace-dripping Spain.

The young man continued with his tale, explaining how Horatio had fought with the man, bested him and brought him in to clean up his wounds before sending him packing. That's when the Frenchman attacked and Archie had fired the pistol, point blank into the man's chest, spoiling the fancy coat.

All through the telling, Mr. Andropolis watched Archie. The barrister's eyes had changed to a softer, warmer hue as Archie spilled the truth and earned a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Mr. Andropolis sighed. He said quietly, " I knew a young man once who could have been your twin."

"Did he live in England, sir?" Archie asked, frowning, wondering from where the comment came.

"No, Macedonia." With a shake of his head, their solicitor stifled a yawn. He blinked and sat back in his chair.

"You must take my bunk, sir. It is too foul a night to walk to your lodgings."

"Share the bed with me then. I don't snore."

"Nor I, sir."



Horatio woke in the middle of the night. He heard soft breathing in the bunk across from his own. The shape was too big for Archie. He realized that two men huddled together in the narrow bed. Horatio squeezed his eyes shut. The memory of crashing waves striking the rocks under the cliffs flashed in Horatio's mind. He saw his broken body washed in the rough surf. He sat up, thinking to steal away that very moment.

"Where do you think you're going?" A crisp, quiet voice demanded. "Go back to sleep."

The barrister was awake and his cold eyes caught the stray moonbeams sending their gentle light flickering back with an unholy luster. Obediently, Horatio reclined again. He rolled over to gaze upon his companions and then he turned away. His heart ached. He tossed on the thin mattress.

Moments later, Horatio felt a firm hand on his back. Then two. Expertly, the hands stroked the tension from his shoulders, from his neck. The slender, strong hands moved to his lower back. He groaned and buried his face into the mattress. The hands moved lower, massaging and relaxing his body, coaxing the muscles to rest. The next conscious thought that disturbed Horatio was the brightness of the morning sun already too warm.

"Wake Lieutenant Hornblower. I've gotten us permission to visit my rooms at the inn. You will have a proper bath before you dress today."

Two hours later, Horatio found himself staring at his reflection in a fine mirror. He held a razor in his right hand raised to his cheek. His hand shook. Without a word, Archie reached out and took the instrument and began to shave his friend. He lifted the strong chin and stroked the slender throat with the sharp blade. Archie's gaze was serene. His hand was steady. Horatio, on the other hand, trembled.

"Archie, please," he whispered insistently into his comrade's ear. "If things don't go well today, they won't let me walk down to the beach. To the cliffs, you know. Bring me the razor instead. I know where to make the cut. Promise me, Arch, that you'll help me and my courage won't fail."

Archie finished his task slowly and carefully, listening all the while to Horatio spilling at last his pent up fears. Finally, he understood the man's terror of the gallows, the shamefulness of death by hanging. Archie learned of the awful childhood memories of a father officiating at executions, the terrible wailing of the condemned just before the ghastly dance. No sort of death held more horror for the young lieutenant. So, Archie promised to do as Horatio asked.

The courtroom was crowded Friday morning. The air grew stifling hot in less than an hour. Horatio sweated in his fine uniform yet he did not fidget. Archie was ill at ease. The barrister was calm.

The French continued to insist that the accused be given over to them for trial and punishment. The Dons listened, nodding their heads at some of the ideas, shaking their heads at others. The French shouted, cajoled, even whispered threats but the ancient Spaniards seemed unimpressed. Over the centuries, they had executed their fair share of heretics and other criminals. If they judged the young man guilty, they assured their French allies that they would see to his punishment.

Mr. Andropolis leaned over to Archie. He whispered, "Will you please take the stand, sir?"

Archie's eyes flew wide. His jaw gaped. Clumsily he got to his feet just as Horatio's hand clamped on his forearm, preventing further movement. For the first time that day, Horatio expressed an emotion--anger.

"No! He will not!" Horatio hissed at his solicitor.

"Calm yourself, Mr. Hornblower. Obey your captain and do as I say. I am here to save you."

"Not by sacrificing Mr. Kennedy!"

"I assure you, he will come to no harm if you obey me."

Archie patted Horatio's frozen white knuckles with his own warm hand and gave a little squeeze. "Horatio, be at ease. Things will go well. I'm certain of it."

The death grip on his forearm loosened and Horatio sank back into his chair. Archie nearly caressed the pale cheek. He almost reached out to brush back the thick curls falling into his friend's moist eyes. He caught himself in time just as he noticed everyone looking at him.

Don Masaredo leaned over from the benches where the spectators sat, to whisper into the ear of the barrister defending the young Englishman.

"He is ill?"

"No, sir. Only strain. A spirit like his seeks the open spaces and free air. Prison, even one as mild as yours, has made him fretful. There is nothing more to it."

"He is a favorite of mine, Mr. Andropolis. I will miss him."

"Our defense has scarcely begun, senor."

Don Masaredo raised his eyes to heaven and made the sign of the cross.

Then, Mr. Andropolis turned to the judges and addressed the ancient Dons. He spoke in unaccented Spanish, using antique turns of phrase that matched their years. He seemed perfectly suited, in language and gesture, to speak to them. The solicitor was amazingly well prepared for his task, to say the least. The Dons smiled and nodded and seemed amused. The French frowned and ground their teeth.

Effortlessly, Mr. Andropolis switched between English and Spanish in his questioning of his witness. He translated every word of each question and answer for the Dons, inviting the French to challenge his correctness. None of them could fault him.

"Mr. Kennedy," he asked the young midshipman, "why was Major Ducos in your room?"

"Mr. Hornblower carried him inside. Major Ducos was unconscious and my friend asked me to help him tend his wounds."

"Had Mr.Ducos already been shot?"

"No sir. He suffered from a blow to the head."

"Do you know the circumstances of his injury?"

"Only what Mr. Hornblower told me."

"Did you believe your friend?"

"Of course."

"And the two of you were trying to revive the man?

"Yes."

"What happened next?"

"He attacked Horatio... Mr. Hornblower, sir."

"Is that when Major Ducos was shot?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you summon the guard or did he arrive upon hearing the noise?"

"I don't remember, but he arrived immediately, sir. And we sent for Senor Masaredo at once."

"You did not try to conceal your crime?"

"It was self-defense, sir."

"In other words, you do not believe your comrade Mr. Hornblower is guilty of murder?"

"Of course not, sir."

"Thank you, Mr. Kennedy. Please remain while our judges ask any remaining questions they might have."

Archie nodded and breathed deeply a few moments. He smiled shyly at the judges. They remained unmoved. They had no further questions. Horatio stared at him as he walked back to his seat in the courtroom. Archie tried to look cheerful when he collapsed next to Horatio. He patted his friend's arm. He noted a drop of blood on Horatio's lip. He must have bitten it through.

Oh, how at that moment Archie wanted to taste those lips, lick away the blood and the fear. A deep sigh escaped him. Horatio clasped his hands. His fingers were like ice against Archie's burning skin. Only a few more hours, Archie hoped. Then they'd be able to rest a while. Court would not convene again until Monday.

Mr. Andropolis begged a noon recess for his clients. The judges agreed that they would all benefit from siesta. They would begin again at four o'clock. The French rose from their chairs and marched out of the room, cavalry boot heels clicking on the ancient stone floors.

In Mr. Andropolis' room, Archie spoke quietly to Horatio. Horatio was still angry that he had not been informed concerning the method of his defense. His barrister ignored him, ordering them dinner instead of arguing. Next he forced Horatio to eat rather than debate their chances of escaping the noose.

Halfway through the meal, an officer appeared at their door. He was a dark haired Scotsman dressed in a kilt. The stranger was probably from one of the Highland regiments defending Portugal from the French. The man caught Archie's attention because he did not carry the tradition Claymore of clansmen. Instead he wore a thinner weapon, only slightly curved, probably of Asian design. The kilt pattern was of a clan that Archie failed to recognize. Once more, he wished his upbringing had been steeped in Scottish tradition rather than being Anglicized almost completely.

The tall, handsome man did not enter. For a brief moment, he bent down to the barrister's ear and whispered a message. Mr. Andropolis transformed completely. All smiles, he wrapped the surprised messenger in a great embrace and planted a warm kiss on his lips. Whispers and more whispers. Then the Scotsman was gone again. Yet when Mr. Andropolis returned to the table his mood remained considerably bright.

"Good news, sir?" Archie asked.

"The best, young man."



At four in the afternoon, the court was packed with even more people. Spaniards had heard of the handsome young Englishman who'd saved some Spanish sailors. Everyone wanted a look at him. Within an hour of his arrival, the room felt hot as a furnace. Next Horatio heard his own named called to take the stand.

"I wish to call the defendant, Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower, to the witness box."

Archie dragged his friend to his feet and gave him a little push toward a man holding a thick ancient Bible. Color draining from his face, his eyesight swimming, Horatio swore to tell the truth.

"Did you murder Major Ducos?"

"He was killed in self-defense and I was responsible."

"I see. But, explain to us why you needed to defend yourself. Why did you believe Major Ducos planned to kill you?

"I had refused to go with him. He tried to take me by force. Then he tried to silence me."

"For what possible reason?"

"He knew I'd been a courier for the British Admiralty. I think he believed I had acted as a spy, even continued to spy for my government while here in prison in Spain."

"Ah ha!" Andropolis crowed. "And what have the French been doing all this past week? They are not seeking justice. Justice can be found here in Spain. Rather, they have insisted on carrying you off to France."

Horatio nodded.

"Are you prepared to accept the findings of this court, Mr. Hornblower? Or would you rather be tried by the French."

"Don Masaredo has been my guardian for some time. I'm sure his words will not be ignored by this august body of men. I trust their judgment. Most of all, I do not wish to be given over to the French."

"Can you tell us why?"

"Major Ducos threatened to have me tortured until I revealed my confederates. I assume his agents will carry out his threats. Since I am not a spy, I wish to spare myself unwarranted suffering."

The old dons nodded their heads at the logic of all the young officer stated. They had no questions and they listened patiently to the solicitor's final summation. The French were furious but the Spanish were firm. Mr. Andropolis dared to express hope to his clients for the first time.

About ten in the evening, the judges gave their verdict. Horatio Hornblower was guilty of killing a man after giving his parole. He would die by hanging at dawn on Monday. The accused was granted forty-eight hours to settle his affairs and they suggested he prepare his immortal soul in the company of a priest on Sunday.



About ten in the evening, the judges gave their verdict. Horatio Hornblower was guilty of killing a man after giving his parole. He would die by hanging at dawn on Monday. The accused was granted forty-eight hours to settle his affairs and they suggested he prepare his immortal soul in the company of a priest on Sunday.

Archie Kennedy kept his friend standing through the sentencing by wrapping his arm around his waist. He felt Horatio's full weight lean against him suddenly when the verdict was given. After the judges left the chamber, Don Masaredo offered his condolences and the services of his personal chaplain. Horatio thanked him for all that he'd already done and declined the priest's aid.

Kennedy glared at the solicitor. He was about to begin a tirade when the man ordered them to follow him to his rooms at the inn. They had things to do, he told them.

"If you mean prepare a will, I protest!" Kennedy shouted.

"Quiet, Mr. Kennedy. And, let us be on our way, gentlemen."

Horatio walked like one already half dead. He had no expression. Neither sorrow nor fear. Merely a blank stare and compliance with Mr. Andropolis' orders. When Archie protested again, Horatio took his friend's arm for support and motioned for him to lead them back to the inn.

Tears streamed down Kennedy's face by the time they reached the rooms. Horatio poured water into a bowl and dipped a cloth. He dabbed at his friend's reddened cheeks and smiled sadly. He said nothing. He looked deeply into Archie's moist blue eyes and stared at him until Archie nodded. He had promised and he would not fail his friend in his last moments. Horatio sighed and seemed very calm.

Andropolis ordered champagne with their late supper of cold roast chicken. He seemed pleased the courts had given them a little time before the sentence was to be carried out. Two days was a long time he reminded them. They must not worry, he said, no matter how bleak things looked now.

Archie looked at Horatio who seemed a little less on edge. When the food arrived, they gave in to their hunger. They ate, and drank the pale wine, growing sleepy in less than an hour. Then, their solicitor explained that after he made them comfortable, he planned to leave them alone for the rest of the evening. He ordered them to remain within the confines of the room. He would even permit the windows to remain open if they gave their word to follow his commands. They did so only after he reminded them of Captain Pellew's orders.

After Andropolis took his leave, Archie helped Horatio out of his uniform. He smoothed out the wrinkles and laid it flat for the morning. He rinsed out their shirts and hung them to dry. Then leisurely he and Horatio washed each other. It was a pleasure they missed during their captivity. There was no proper tub. Nothing more than a big wash bowl and a pitcher. At least, the servants did not deny them two buckets of water, a few towels and privacy.

Refreshed and clean, Horatio folded Archie into his embrace and whispered his thanks into his friend's ear. Kennedy shivered as the warm breath tickled him and the soft lips kissed their way down the nape of his neck. Horatio's hands softly caressed his round shoulders and slid over the muscles that covered his ribs. The tip of Horatio's tongue touched the pounding pulse at his throat.

Then Archie heard Horatio whisper, "There. Do you feel it? It's called the carotid."

Horatio mouthed along his collarbone. "There's a deeper one here," he said. "The subclavian." Then, he nipped the tender flesh of Archie's arm pit. "The brachial lies here," he added, blowing on the moist hair.

Archie squirmed and suddenly he gasped. Horatio had ducked his head and planted a firm, wet kiss on his inner thigh.

"Ah," he whispered. "The femoral."

Archie dragged his friend's head up and kissed his mouth with all the passion he possessed. He hugged him and pinned him beneath his weight.

"Stop this, Horatio," he pleaded. "I can't bear it."

"I'm not afraid to die, Archie. I'm not a coward."

"I know that. I understand your fears."

Horatio reached his arms around his friend and pulled him next to him. He smoothed back the rich gold hair and kissed the wide brow. Nestling into the hollow of Archie's shoulder, Horatio shuddered a moment and then lay still.

Finally, he spoke again. "You only know a fraction of my fears. Hold me and bear with my weeping and you will soon understand my morbid dread.

Kennedy did as he was asked and waited several minutes for Horatio to begin. He even checked to see if his friend was still awake. He was. Wide eyed and shivering. Archie held him tighter and Horatio summoned up his courage.

"Remember I told you that my father attended hangings to certify the deaths of criminals? Well, I have memories of many of them. The screams of the fearful, the threats of the condemned, their curses and their oaths. My father did not take any of their words to heart, but I did. I was a child. More often than I care to admit, I was frozen with fear.

Yet, that was not the worst of it. After the hanging, the bodies would be taken down and brought to my father's infirmary. Sometimes, the judge asked to see the man's heart or his liver. My father kept a journal of diseased organs believing criminals were driven to commit their unlawful acts by illness. I witnessed the removal of a man's brain when I was only eight years old. My father was sure that a great mass within the brain caused the man to murder his wife and young children. If my own father had not been a kindly man, I would have been terrified every time he spoke of a headache.

Horatio stopped talking a moment and cleared his throat. Archie felt him begin trembling again. His voice had diminished to a rasping sound. His face was wet with tears. Archie kissed him and held him until their warm bodies melting together.

"Honestly, you need not go on, Horatio," Archie said. "I promise you. I will do as you ask. Calm yourself and take comfort in my arms tonight. Think of nothing beyond this moment."

"My terror haunts me. Help me face it. Please, Arch."

Horatio's teeth bit down on Archie's shoulder. Hands like claws clung to him.

"Tell me what happened, Horatio. Tell me now."

"It was winter. They cut the thief down and brought his body inside. We finished our dinner and then went to work. Father had a great knife, sharp like a scalpel but heavy enough to slice through the breastbone. He began at the top of the sternum and pressed down with all his strength. The man sat bolt upright and shrieked. He reached out and began to choke my father. I screamed and stood in shocked helplessness as a corpse wrung the life from my father.

Moments later, the man sank lifeless to the table in a lake of blood and my father collapsed in a chair. He was weeping, distressed that he'd killed the man. I crawled into my father's lap and he held me until I went to sleep. I dreamed of waking like that man, a surgeon's knife in my chest. My father weeping over me.

So Arch, do you understand? Do you see why you must help me? My nightmare is growing all too real."

Kennedy sighed and wiped tears from his own eyes. He said, "You have my word, Horatio. I'll do as you ask." Then he rubbed his friend's back and added, "Only now, take a little comfort from me tonight. Will you?"

"Yes...I'd like that."



When Andropolis returned at the blush of dawn, he found his clients in each others arms. The room smelled of sex and sweat. Not an unpleasant scent the older man admitted. He woke them and they sat up rubbing their eyes and looking like young owls in the daylight.

"Get washed and dressed, Hornblower. I'll order breakfast. Kennedy, a few words in private, if you please."

Horatio gave Archie a fearful glance. Archie smiled blithely. He followed the solicitor into the hall.

"Tell me what he's planning."

"He's not planning on being hanged."

"This is no game. If you love him, tell me what he's planning."

"I promised him. I won't break my word again."

"I'll break your neck and shackle him. Do you understand me?"

"Tell me how you plan to save his life! You haven't kept your promise yet."

"I will save his life. And yours. But, if he's planning suicide, I want to know how he'll attempt it. Don't make me bind him."

"His father was a doctor. A surgeon, I think. Horatio knows all the major arteries. He knows how deep to cut."

"So, we take away the razor. The knife from his table setting. His penknife."

"I'll see to it."

"I'm sure you will."

The lawyer glared at Archie in complete distrust. Archie glared back.

At breakfast, Archie watched his friend across the dining table. Horatio
frowned and patted the table next to his plate looking for his cutlery.

He said with quiet insistence to Mr. Andropolis who stood near the window, "A
knife, sir. I do need a knife if I'm to have jam on my toast."

Moments later, a piece of toast thickly spread with raspberry jam, appeared
on Hornblower's plate. Kennedy smiled hopefully as he fixed his own
breakfast. Sadly, instead of thanks, Archie received a look of betrayal from
his companion. Then, the solicitor stepped in from behind and laid one
strong hand on the young condemned man's shoulder. He slipped the other hand
into his pocket and fished out a slim penknife. Protests were to no avail.
In the end, Horatio's only recourse seemed to be sullen sulking.

Kennedy did manage to coax his friend into eating a mouthful of his toast.
Two cups of excellent tea helped wash down the rest of the light repast and a
little color returned to Hornblower's pale countenance. His hand was
steadier than the day before. He even smiled sadly when his friend tried to
cheer him.

About ten in the morning, after receiving several messages brought by
Scottish couriers, Mr. Andropolis asked his clients to sit and make
themselves comfortable. He wished to speak with them frankly.

Archie noticed immediately that Horatio's face drained of all color. Tearing
his gaze from the distant sea, he sat on a small sofa wringing his hands,
smoothing the fabric of his trousers and toying with his collar which seemed
instantly too tight. Archie squeezed his eyes shut a moment against the stab
of pain that tore his heart. Then, he sat next to his friend and flung his
arm over Horatio's shoulders. He felt a tremor in the tall, thin frame.
Then he felt mounting strength. Horatio squared his shoulders and lifted his
chin. They both took deep breaths and waited for their solicitor to speak.

"I must leave you two alone again today. I trust there will be no escape
attempts, nor any attempt whatsoever to cause yourself harm, Mr. Hornblower.
I remind you that Captain Pellew expects your safe return to the service of
your king."

Hornblower answered quietly, his voice steady, "I look forward to my return
to Indefatigable. Since I have no option but to place myself in your hands,
I will trust my captain's choice in the mode of my salvation, trying as it
might seem."

Andropolis smiled for the first time in days. He replied, "Please remember
that I endeavor to complete your rescue. For that reason, I will not
tolerate disobedience. Therefore, before I go, I must ask you once again for
your most solemn word that you will comply with my wishes."

"I pledge to wait patiently for my release until the first light of morning
on the first day of the week. At that time, I will take my own life by any
means at hand before submitting to the gallows."

The last word echoed, the only sound in the room.

For the first time, Kennedy saw a flicker of compassion in the dark eyes of
their solicitor. The man cocked his head to one side and chewed his lower
lip. Then he whispered, "I'll see you don't hang, lad. I'll see to it
myself."

"Thank you, sir." Horatio replied.

"Now, spend an hour writing to Captain Pellew for me. Tell him I'm about to
repay my debt."

Hornblower nodded his head and smiled, hope flickering in his moist eyes. A
quarter-hour later they heard the galloping hoofbeats of a swift horse leave
the inn's yard. Archie and Horatio paced the confines of the small room
hunting paper and ink. They browsed through the few books the lawyer had in
his baggage. Finally, Horatio found what he needed and began to write to Sir
Edward Pellew. Archie stared at the white capped waves in the distance,
listening to the scratching of his friend's pen.

"Damn," Horatio said, as the nib on the crow quill broke under his impatient
efforts. "He'll think my hand shakes with fear."

"Give me the quill. I'll trim it for you."

"Our jailer didn't confiscate your penknife?"

"No, not yet. But, you promised to wait, Horatio."

"I will, Arch. But, just knowing you'll help me and that we have the means,
gives me courage."

"Please, Horatio. For today, let's think of other things. What are you
telling Captain Pellew?"

"Please, Horatio. For today, let's think of other things. What are you
telling Captain Pellew?"

"Give me a few more minutes, Arch and I'll read you my letter to him. I am
honest about my intentions. Most of all, I am sincerely grateful to him for
all he's attempted. I want him to know that. Even if I'm not able to return
to his side on the Indy."

"Go ahead then and write. I won't disturb you."

"Thank you, Archie. You are a true friend."

Archie went back to the window and peered out toward the sea beyond the
sheltered harbor. He thought he saw a sail from time to time but light
dancing off the waves and shadows from the billowing clouds played with his
misting eyes. He missed the Indy almost as much as Horatio did. And, he'd
made up his mind that if Horatio did not return to her decks that he would
not return either. Rather, he would follow his friend into the oblivion of
the grave.

The little penknife was deep in his pocket, securely buried beneath a linen
handkerchief from his mother, embroidered by her own hand with his initials.
She had been so pleased to see him off at the docks the day he first sailed
aboard Justinian. He never told her they rarely left Spitshead. He sent
back fanciful letters instead, detailing all the exotic ports he'd heard
about from the common sailors. Archie picked up a quill and a clean sheet of
vellum. He began his own letter to his family.
 
  SA: AK's Letter in "The Condemned Waits..."

Dearest Mother,

I trust father and my sisters are well. I pray to heaven that you and James are in fine health. He will be your support in the days to come. Give my warmest regards to the staff and my old tutor, Frederick.

My own circumstances are uncertain. The Spanish court has not been kind to us. Our solicitor, a gifted man sent by Captain Pellew, believes we have the means to cheat the hangman yet. I am not so sure. In any event, know that my last thoughts will always be of you, dearest Mother.

If you receive an additional letter from Mr. Andropolis, along with this note, likely I'm already dead. Do not blame him. He did his best and he deserves your thanks.

As my final request, I would like a pension sent each year to a country doctor by the name of Hornblower in Kent. I serve with his son, Horatio, who is at my side sharing my fate. Please, if you have any love for me, see that my friend's father is cared for in his old age.

Yours eternally,  

Archibald  

SA: HH'S LETTER in "The Condemned Waits..."

Dear Captain Pellew,

I wish to thank you for sending the excellent solicitor, Mr. Andropolis to our aid. He did his best for us. Unfortunately, the Spanish judges were unmoved by his eloquence. I am condemned and wait only the passage of the Lord's Day for my punishment. In spite of everything, Mr. Andropolis seeks another avenue of rescue. I have little hope, except to die well.

As I write this letter, my thoughts race like a ship in a gale. I see the rocks of my destiny ahead. Yet, I am powerless to steer clear. Your image, steady and brave on the quarterdeck, gives me solace, my beacon, my guiding star. You have been my best and most loved teacher.

Forgive the warmth of my words. I am unable to express the depth of my emotion in any other way. I mean no disrespect. I fear that this letter may be my last opportunity to tell you the secrets of my heart. Please, remember me fondly. Give my sincere thanks and farewells to all the officers and crew. Please, forgive and forget my mistakes, my impetuousness, my clumsiness. If I am granted a second chance at life, I will endeavor to excel in all my tasks, for your sake, for the pride of the Indefatigable and for my king and country.

My service on the Indefatigable remains the happiest era of my life. My only sadness in my last hours is the method chosen by my judges for my death. Mr. Kennedy has my full confidence and he acts under my orders. Do not let it be said that I was afraid to die. Happily would I give my life for you or for my shipmates. Yet, the gallows are abhorrent to me. Therefore, my end will be of my own choosing and no one is to blame, least of all, Mr. Kennedy or Mr. Andropolis. For my actions, I take full responsibility. By no means, has your teaching been lacking. I meet my end content.

Finally, if I may ask a personal favor. Please send a letter to my father telling him that I died in combat. That the end was sudden and I suffered no pain. Forgive me the lie. I wish to bestow on him some small comfort at my passing. I have nothing else for him and it grieves me terribly.

Yours,

Horatio Hornblower  

INTERLUDE in "The Condemned Waits..."

All adult warnings apply mildly... Our boys find time for solace as they await rescue...

More of Surgeon's Art. by AZARAD        

In a neat hand, Hornblower recopied his letter to Captain Pellew and laid it on the table. He folded the first copy and tucked it inside the envelope of Captain's Pellew's letter. Then he slid the packet into the pocket of his breeches. Archie folded his letter, as written, and addressed the envelope. He gathered his friend's note along with his own and tucked both into Mr. Andropolis' valise.

A bell rang. A servant entered with a tray. Horatio was about to send it away when he thought of Archie. For his sake, he sat at table and toyed with his food. Archie picked at what was on his plate. They watched each other. They looked away only to return, gazing into each other's eyes. Finally, Archie rang the bell and the servant mysteriously appeared carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. Silently, the man cleared the dishes and left.

Horatio paced. Archie sprawled on the bed. Half an hour later, Archie opened the wine and poured two glasses. They only sipped the wine at first. Then, finding it refreshing and relaxing, they drank in gulps. Another bottle mysteriously appeared at the door an hour later. Sparkling wine, cold and sweet. A gift, the servant said, from Andropolis to soothe their nerves.

Within the next hour, the wine took effect. Despite the warmth of the room, Horatio lay resting in Archie's arms upon the big, soft bed. Ever so slowly, Archie loosened his friend's garments. The oppressive heat, he claimed, his only motive.

Then, kisses, sparkling as the wine, sweet and warm, tickled the skin of Horatio's chest. Languidly, Horatio sprawled taking pleasure in the sensations, his mind muddled by drink, his body stirred by Archie's mouth. Words did not form. Only a harsh gasp of breath when Archie's tongue reached his nipple.  

The Condemned Meets his Fate!

(Take heart medicine and arrange needed supplies before reading!) This is your only warning...) HiH (AZARAD)  

At precisely six on Sunday evening, Don Masaredo appeared at the inn with a priest and three young officers of his household. He explained that he'd been entrusted with the condemned prisoner's last meal and he requested permission to share it with him. Horatio could not refuse the elderly gentleman. He even smiled at this last show of kindness. Graciously, he opened the door and offered the old senor the seat at the head of the table.

"My dear Mr. Hornblower," Don Masaredo said, "I apologize for my lack of eloquence at your hearing. Since I was unable to save your life, I endeavor tonight to bring peace to your immortal soul."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate the gesture. Even so, it is quite unnecessary for me to confess to a priest. And, as God is my witness, I harbor no blame against you."

"You are generous, senor Hornblower. Now, let us eat and enjoy a pleasant evening before I return to my duties."

"I would be honored, sir, to share this meal with you. I'm afraid I have little appetite, but do enjoy what you brought."

Avoiding any discussion of future events, Archie and Horatio entertained their guests all the while hoping that Mr. Andropolis would make his timely entrance. About eight o'clock, Don Masaredo stood and his officers with him. Horatio pushed himself to his feet and was about to walk the older man to the door when he felt a strong grip on his upper arm.

"I'm a very sorry, Mr. Hornblower," Don Masaredo said sadly. "I must take you back into my custody tonight. Spain would not approve of a daring rescue by your shipmates."

"What?" Horatio said, suddenly alarmed.

Then he glanced at Archie and exploded into action. He pushed Archie past the Spaniards and toward the door. He shouted for him to run. At the same moment, he bolted toward the French doors that led out onto the balcony. Their rooms were three floors up, but what did it matter? He heard the ring of horseshoes on the cobbles below. Don Masaredo was shouting to his men in their native tongue. A pistol fired. Footsteps on the stairs. More guards, surely.

The door burst open. Kennedy tore his eyes from his friend and gazed in rapt joy when he saw Captain Pellew leading men from the Indefatigable. But, something was wrong. The Captain's face drained of color and he opened his mouth to shout. Archie turned toward Horatio just in time to see a spray of liquid rubies splash his friend's face. Was he shot?

"Oh my God!" Archie exclaimed, frozen where he stood.

Captain Pellew crossed the room, pushing the shocked Spaniards out of the way. Kennedy caught sight of Horatio, his back braced against the wall. He was wide-eyed and staring at the men in the room. Slowly, his knees gave way and his long legs folded beneath him. He slid toward the floor still clutching the shard of glass he had broken out of the window and used to slash his left forearm. The room had gone suddenly quiet.

"Forgive me, Captain," Horatio whispered as Pellew caught him in his arms. "Forgive me, please." Then he sighed and collapsed, insensible.

"Kennedy! A napkin, a shirt, anything for a bandage! Bracegirdle! Get the surgeon, immediately."   MORE of The Condemned Meets his Fate!

Here's hoping this is a remedy for the shock I gave everyone earlier today!

HiH      

"Forgive me, Captain," Horatio whispered as Pellew caught him in his arms. "Forgive me, please." Then he sighed and collapsed, insensible.

"Kennedy! A napkin, a shirt, anything for a bandage! Bracegirdle! Get the surgeon, immediately."

"Aye, sir" Bracegirdle called as he elbowed his way out of the room.

A tall Scot squeezed inside, dragging a man in manacles. The prisoner was a dark haired little official squinting to see what was going on. Mr. Andropolis entered the room and rushed to Pellew's side. He cradled Horatio's head in both hands and felt for the pulse under his jaw. Archie ached inside when he saw their solicitor shake his head.

"No!" Archie shouted. "He can't be dying. I shot the Frenchman. Not Horatio!"

"Luckily, ye dinna kill 'im, laddie," the Scot said, smiling. "En' I don' believe yer friend has died either. Not quite yet, anyway. See? He's bleedin' still. Now, fetch the napkins. En' be quick about it."

Archie flew to the table and snatched up half a dozen squares of fine linen. Handing them to the Captain, he couldn't help notice how Sir Edward's fingers pressed into Horatio's wound. Now, blood merely seeped out around the manicured nails. The artery was pinched and it no longer spurted away Horatio's life with each beat of his heart.

When Captain Pellew released his grip and pressed the napkin down, blood soaked the bandage in under a minute. Again the Captain pressed his fingers against the pulsing vessel and managed to reduce the flow. Tenderly, with Archie's help, he gathered his young officer into his arms and carried him to the bed. He sat with him in his lap a full hour waiting for the surgeon, afraid to remove the pressure his fingers applied to the wound.

In the meantime, Mr. Andropolis spoke in rapid Spanish to Don Masaredo. The nobleman agreed to assemble the judges in the morning. He would explain that before his own eyes, young Horatio had been exonerated. The man who everyone thought was dead was breathing still. No crime had been committed. The young British naval officer was indeed innocent.

When the surgeon arrived, Archie watched him work thinking all the while of Horatio's father. Dr. Hepplewhite complimented his captain on his quick thinking. He had saved Hornblower's arm. The wound, with proper care, would heal rapidly, leaving the young man a glorious scar with which to impress the ladies, the doctor assured them.

After the doctor left, the tall Scot and the solicitor shared a glass of wine with Captain Pellew before taking their leave. Just before midnight, Archie watched his commanding officer fluff pillows under Horatio's head, arrange his damp curls and caress his pale cheek. Finally, he heard the captain sigh.

"You are dismissed, Mr. Kennedy." Captain Pellew said in a very tired voice.

"Begging your pardon, sir, I've nowhere to go."

"Oh! Then I suppose it's just as well that you stay here. I'll need someone to look after him for a few hours. I'm nearly dead on my feet. Are you rested, Mr. Kennedy?"

"Yes, sir. I'll take the watch, sir. And the bed, it's plenty big enough for two. He'll sleep better with you lying next to him, sir."

Pellew frowned and raised his eyebrow.

Archie blushed, wondering if Pellew suspected how they'd passed the previous night, in the comfort of one another's arms.

Captain Pellew stifled a great yawn. Then he said quietly, "It seems I must agree with you, Mr. Kennedy. The bed is large and most inviting. Wake me at the first sign of renewed bleeding."

"Aye, sir." Kennedy said eagerly. Then, he helped Captain Pellew into bed and turned down the lamp, adding, "I'm very pleased to see you, sir."

"Pleased to see both you and Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Kennedy. Very pleased indeed."  

Pellew's debt

Continuation of Surgeon's Art...by AZARAD  

Captain Edward Pellew woke before dawn. The wine's effects from the previous evening had worn off and his back was aching. He shifted in the soft landlubber's bed, acutely aware of his unfamiliar location, far from Indefatigable's gentle rocking which lulled him to sweet drowsiness when no other means could. Schooled by the rigors of combat, the captain was immediately awake and aware of his handsome bed-partner, sleeping so soundly with the aid of the doctor's drugs. exhausted by the nature of his injury.

Previous events cascaded before Pellew's mind's eye. How he'd worried for days as his swift frigate ploughed the waves to reach this Spanish port. The gallop up to the town from the quay. Leaping the stairs two at a time, at his age... Then, seeing the spray of blood pumping from Horatio's arm. Matching his wide-eyed, frightened stare. Hearing his last words. "Forgive me." whispered deeply into his ear.

"Oh dear God, I do forgive you, my darling boy," Pellew whispered, stroking back the riot of soft brown hair that fell like a curly forelock over the young man's closed eyes.

Those deep, dark eyes, Pellew thought, must open. The price had been paid. This sweet life was not to be forfeit. Yet, how and why would young Hornblower attempt self-slaughter? Here was a mystery, Pellew decided.

Carefully, the Captain checked the bandage. It was only a little damp from seepage from the wound. Old Hepplewhite knew his needlecraft, by God. A fine bit of stitching. Next, the captain ran his thick strong fingers under the injured man's jaw. Good, he's not too warm and his pulse seems strong. Pellew yawned. He fluffed his pillow and stretched out next to Horatio, returning almost at once to his slumber and his dreams.  

MORE of Pellew's debt

Surgeon's Art continues... By AZARAD (Helen in Houston)    

Carefully, the Captain checked the bandage. It was only a little damp from seepage from the wound. Old Hepplewhite knew his needlecraft, by God. A fine bit of stitching. Next, the captain ran his thick strong fingers under the injured man's jaw. Good, he's not too warm and his pulse seems strong. Pellew yawned. He fluffed his pillow and stretched out next to Horatio, returning almost at once to his slumber and his dreams.

Dreams. Nocturnal messengers of the inner most man. Dreams of holding, pressing, comforting a tortured soul, one from whom only he could lift life's great burdens... Oh, too sweet to be substantial, such dreams. Yet here in his arms, head heavy on his broad shoulder, soft hair tickling his cheek, lay a creature of such dreamlike perfection that tears welled up in eyes that had been arid for so long. Parched eyes and a hard heart until now. Must be getting old, and soft hearted too, Pellew thought with a great shuddering sigh.

Pellew shifted and tightened his arms around the slim youth lying next to him. Everything was peaceful. The room was quiet and in pitch-blackness. Even so, the small hairs on the back of Pellew's neck prickled. An itch drove sleep from his eyes and his awareness sharpened.

"Is that you, Mr. Kennedy?" Pellew asked, his voice a low melodic rumble.

"Yes, sir," a ghostly faint tenor answered. "On watch, sir. As ordered."

"I see."

"May I be of service, sir? A glass of water, perhaps?"

"No, Mr. Kennedy. Thank you."

"All's quiet, sir."

"So it is. Now, be so kind as to get some sleep yourself, young man. Your friend sleeps untroubled."

"I'm so very glad, sir. So glad you are here."

"Good fortune brought us in time, Mr. Kennedy. For that, I am truly thankful. Now, tomorrow, we shall talk more. I should like tea with my breakfast. Will you see to it?"

"I will, sir. And pardon me for asking, do you think Horatio...I mean, Mr. Hornblower will be waking in the morning?"

"Let us pray God he does, Mr. Kennedy. Now, find yourself a soft chair. Do you desire a blanket?"

"No, sir. I'm fine, sir."

"All very well. Very well, indeed. In the morning, then."

"Aye, Captain. Good night, sir."

"Good night."

Pellew listened to the shuffling sounds of the young officer making himself comfortable. Soon, only the soft stirrings of breathing could be heard. Horatio had shifted to his stomach, flinging a long leg up and over the Captain's leg. Fresh drops of blood dampened the front of Pellew's shirt where Horatio's wounded forearm rested. Sir Edward felt the strong beat of the young man's heart and the lively warmth of his lithe body. At that moment, he could not refrain from bending forward and kissing the top of Horatio's head, resting in the crook of his arm. At once, like a sudden storm in the desert, rebellious tears fell, betraying all the tender emotions Pellew guarded in his heart.  

Pellew's Debt cont.
By AZARAD  

Chills woke young Archie. He reached around for his thick quilts and pulled another pillow up around his head. Heather climbed in beside him. Her little body warm and her long tongue licked at his face. He stroked her long hair. She had had a bath in the kitchen earlier in the day, after chasing rabbits. She wouldn't muddy the sheets. Archie hugged her tightly and she squirmed deeply into his embrace.

The next thing Archie remembered was a cool hand touching his warm forehead. Cool lips kissed his brow and he woke. Sitting up, he saw his mother bending over him. She asked if he felt warm, a fever perhaps. Her cool hands slipped under his chin and cupped his face. Her bright blue eyes and blond curls mirrored his own features.

Suddenly the door was flung open. Heather barked in alarm. A tall brooding figure stood behind the fragile woman. He glared and shouted at the little dog. Archie froze in terror for a moment. Then he hushed the dog and pushed her gently from the bed. She crawled quickly beneath the heavy frame just as a big booted foot kicked at her. The man swore he'd have the huntsman shoot the dog if he ever caught it misbehaving again. Archie cringed in his bed, a terrifying scene of his own murder playing in his head.

A woman's voice pleading. More shouting muffled by the thick quilts. A hand seized Archie by the arm and dragged him from his bed. He knew enough not to cry out. He knew better than to protest. Limp, he allowed himself to be flung to the floor. He waited shuddering for the kick that would send him under the bed with the dog. His mother stepped between. She was his protector. He should be hers. He tried to stand up. Stand up for once, he said to himself. Then the crack of a slap against flesh. He scurried under the bed, hearing the tread of heavy boots leave the room and the sounds of sobbing. He trembled and Heather crawled into his arms again.

Archie Kennedy woke suddenly and realized he was not at home. His beloved Heather was not with him. The sounds of real weeping sent a bolt of fear through him. He looked up to see who was in such distress. Then he saw Captain Pellew with Horatio in his arms. He was sponging his face with water even though the injured man appeared quite lifeless. Archie shook his head in disbelief and tried to wake from the horrible dream.  

The Morning CONTINUES...

The Morning Continues... At the room at the Inn.
by AZARAD (Helen in Houston)  

Archie Kennedy woke suddenly and realized he was not at home. His beloved Heather was not with him. The sounds of real weeping sent a bolt of fear through him. He looked up to see who was in such distress. Then he saw Captain Pellew with Horatio in his arms. He was sponging his face with water even though the injured man appeared quite lifeless. Archie shook his head in disbelief and tried to wake from the horrible dream.

"What's happened to him, sir?" Archie asked softly, passing a fine linen handkerchief to his captain.

With a nod of thanks, Pellew made use of the kerchief and controlled his emotions. Then he explained, "He was a trifle warm last night. Now, he's burning. I've only just discovered his condition. I've been up about an hour. I thought he was sleeping. Then, I touched his brow."

"You sent for Dr. Hepplewhite?"

"Yes. I called the innkeeper and tried to make him understand. I hope he did. Then, I started to bathe his face. As you can see, to no effect."

"I may be able to help, sir."

Archie rang the bell in the hall and called two of the maids to the room.

"Agua, por favor," he said. "Agua fria del pozo. Bastante para un bano."

"What did you say?"

"I asked them to bring cold well water. Enough to bathe him. Try to lower his fever."

"His arm is swollen too."

"Senorita," Archie addressed the youngest maid. "Sal tambien. Mucha sal."

"Salt, sir." Archie said to Pellew.

"I see, salt water. Like our beneficial sea water."

"Exactly, sir. I've seen sea water cleanse some awful gashes."

"That's what Mr. Andropolis recommended...soaking my hand in sea water."

Archie looked a moment at his captain's left hand smoothing back Horatio's damp curls. The hand was handsome and gentle. The scars were ugly. Archie exclaimed, "Gads, sir. You could have lost it!"

"Nearly did," Pellew responded, smiling for the first time. Then he added quickly, slyly, "Don't say anything to Hornblower about it. I wouldn't want him to fret over my safety."

"Oh, I won't mention your wound, sir," Archie answered. Then he said to himself, longingly, "Or the way you worry over his health." Frowning, he regretted the prick of envy, begging heaven's forgiveness from the bottom of his soul.

Helplessly, for the next quarter hour he watched the captain tend his friend. Horatio's head rested on his shoulder, his back against the captain's chest, his body in Pellew's lap, like a sleeping child in his arms. Archie sighed.

There was a knock at the door. Two men brought in a tub. Four maids carried pails of water. The innkeeper, his wife and their youngest son carried supplied of all sorts-salt, soap and herbs.

The innkeeper said, "Aqui tenemos todo. Soy brujo."

"Gracias, senor." Archie said to the man. "Captain, the innkeeper is a doctor!"

Mid Morning

Surgeon's Art
By AZARAD
Chapter entitled, Pellew's Debt    

"Gracias, senor." Archie said to the man. "Captain, the innkeeper is a doctor!"

In less than half an hour, Kennedy found himself and the Captain breathing a little easier. The innkeeper and his wife had stripped the bandage from Horatio's arm, cleaned the wound in salt water and applied a poultice that was sure to draw out the poison responsible for the swelling. The bath was not needed yet, Senor Calderon explained. Instead, they dampened towels and applied them to the patient's heated skin. When Horatio seemed cooler, they made him comfortable in clean dry sheets.

All the while the couple doctored, Kennedy carefully translated their comments and instructions to Pellew. The captain seemed very grateful for his acting lieutenant's competence with the native language. Archie didn't translate everything, not word for word. He was afraid the captain might frown if he knew the innkeeper did not follow the same medical traditions as Dr. Hepplewhite. Even so, Senor Calderon quickly assessed the situation and applied his treatments, all of which eased the patient's physical distress immediately.

Once Horatio regained consciousness, Calderon instructed Pellew to spoon a few drops of medicinal tea onto the young man's parched lips. Kennedy smiled when Horatio licked up the moisture. The injured man opened his eyes for a few moments and drank nearly half a cup of what must have been a bitter brew by the grimace he made swallowing it. Then, he settled again against Pellew's shoulder. With gentle coaxing, the Captain got him to drink a glass of red wine. When the ship's doctor arrived, he was resting once more in a deep sleep.

As soon as the doctor observed the patient's condition, he opened his bag and removed his lancet and cup. Kennedy stared at the instruments and then sent his pleading gaze to beg for Captain Pellew's cold reason.

The Captain questioned his surgeon, "You are not planning to bleed this man, are you Doctor?"

"He has a fever, does he not?"

"Hornblower bled himself white just yesterday! I don't see how taking more blood will improve his condition."

"Bleeding lowers a fever. It will help him rest."

"My God, he may yet rest in his grave!"

"It must be done."

"I forbid it. Besides, he seems quiet enough without your leeches."

"I am the doctor, sir. I have the right to make this decision."

"Look at him, please. He's sleeping soundly. His fever burns lower. We used cold water."

"What's this?" Hepplewhite asked, sniffing at the cup that contained the dregs of the bitter tea.

Calderon spoke up, "Cinchona, senor."

"He says it's Jesuit's Bark, sir," Kennedy interjected. "It's a powerful medicine, newly introduced to Europe. All the way from the jungles of South America."

"Tengo mas. Un regalo, senor." The Spaniard held out a little wooden box containing several small strips of exotic tree bark.

"He's giving you some, Dr. Hepplewhite." Archie explained.

"Gads! Do I look like a midwife?"

"Sell it to an army doctor then," Pellew said evenly, calmly stroking Hornblower's forehead. "You'll reap a thousand guineas." A minor gesture and Archie accepted the gift on behalf of the Captain and his doctor, offering appropriate thanks to Senor Calderon.

"Del mar, ustedes salvaron a mi hijo," Calderon explained.

"Horatio saved this man's son from drowning, sir. Remember the Spaniard Indy chased up onto the rocks?"

Before Pellew could answer, Horatio stirred and shifted within the Captain's enfolding arms. Hepplewhite began his duties. He felt his brow. He reached under his chin, placing his fingertips on the rapid pulse, nodding his head. Next he examined the lacerated arm. He felt all along the young man's body, carefully under his arms first, pressing his stomach next. Finally, he even palpated his genitals lightly. Archie sighed in relief when Hepplewhite replaced his instruments inside his bag.

"Well, I see I'm not needed. I'll return to Indefatigable immediately and get myself a proper breakfast."

"Come, come John," Pellew clucked, obligingly smiling at his old comrade in arms, showing no hard feelings. "It's nearly the new century. We'll all need to endure many new things. Give me a moment and I'll breakfast with you downstairs. The kitchens here are quite good."

Captain Pellew lifted Horatio enough to slide himself out from under his sleeping lieutenant. As he did so, Kennedy seized the newest gesture that beckoned him to sit with his friend on the bed. Tenderly, Archie gathered the long limbs and the slim body into his arms. Horatio's head lolled back against his shoulder.

>From his post as Horatio's guardian, Archie watched Pellew dress and brush his hair. The other men waited patiently, peering out the window toward the harbor and the sea. As soon as all backs were turned, Archie kissed the dark curls, inhaling their familiar, pleasing scent. Horatio nestled into his embrace. Archie hugged him tightly, all the while following the actions of their captain as he moved about the room. Finally, Captain Pellew picked up his hat and adjusted it carefully on his head. Using the mirror, he cast Kennedy a last grateful glance. Then, he ushered the others out, closing the door on his way downstairs with Senor Calderon and the doctor.  

Afternoon Delights

Surgeon's Art...cont. by AZARAD
Chapter called Pellew's Debt

(In their room at the inn, Archie watches over Horatio as he recovers from his wound.)

Well past noon, the sun's light less intense at the eastern window, Horatio and Archie finally slept more than a hand's breath apart. It was warm in the room and Horatio's fever was up again. Archie slept soundly until his friend's tossing woke him. He got up immediately and prepared the cooling towels.

The injured man had been stripped for his earlier treatment and lay naked amid the sheets. Archie marveled that Horatio's skin was so white, his chest smooth, his belly flat. He was handsome, even when ill. Even dirty, with red-rimmed eyes he was beautiful, like the day they pulled him from the cramped pit in the prison courtyard that the Spaniards used to punish their captives.

One by one Archie draped him in the cool wetness of the towels. Joyful relief burst from him when his comrade smiled and sank deeper into sleep again. His breathing, rhythmic once more, swelled his chest and made his sculptured nostrils quiver. Then, Horatio rolled over onto his stomach, his long limbs outstretched askew.

Archie grinned. Horatio favored that sleeping posture, uncomfortable as it was in a midshipman's hammock. It was a good thing he made lieutenant, Archie thought, and got himself assigned a cabin with a proper bunk for sleeping. Even a cramped bunk was better than a hammock...or the hole, Archie recalled suddenly, grimly. He shuddered remembering his own experiences folded in two inside the punishment cell in Spanish prison's yard.

How his friend's cranelike legs must have ached, every joint on fire from the constant strain of bending. The guards were cruel--drizzling water over the captive rather than offering him a cup. Kicking sand onto the head of the unfortunate. Never giving the imprisoned man a moment's peace, day or night. Torment to break a man's spirit. That was the worst of it.

Archie smoothed back the dark curls. Here was the dear friend who had rescued him from the terrors of the pit. Was it not his right to fend off Horatio's fears of the grave? He bent and kissed the smooth cheek that he'd shaved the morning of the last day of the trial. Horatio's hand had been shaking. Archie had been fearful of his friend's intentions with the razor.

Fine stubble darkened the strong jaw. A trickle of sweat ran from the hairline at Horatio's temple to the hollow of his throat. Archie's tongue tasted the salty skin. A surge of passion rose like a great wave within him. He recalled their nights together in their cell, reciting Shakespeare and pleasuring each other. Archie's hands, of their own volition, stroked Horatio's back, fingertips sweeping over his broad shoulders, feeling his strong ribs, dipping into the curve at the small of his back and over the firm swell of Horatio's buttocks. Archie knew every inch of his friend's body, every tender recess, every intimate response.

Horatio shifted and hugged the thick feather pillow. He drew up one leg, knee nearly touching his stomach. The other long limb stretched out full length, a slender foot and toes pointing. Archie couldn't resist. He ran his fingers down the sole of Horatio's foot.

The reaction was immediate. Horatio, his eyes dark and smoldering, reared suddenly from the bed like a dolphin leaping from the waves. He grappled his tormentor and dragged him beneath the waves of bed linen. A moment of playful wrestling and Archie lay pinned beneath Horatio who was, it seemed, quite awake.  

SA: MORE Afternoon Delights

Surgeon's Art
Chapter: Pellew's Debt
by AZARAD  

The reaction was immediate. Horatio, his eyes dark and smoldering, reared suddenly from the bed like a dolphin leaping from the waves. He grappled his tormentor and dragged him beneath the waves of bed linen. A moment of playful wrestling and Archie lay pinned beneath Horatio who was, it seemed, quite awake.

"You'll pay now," Horatio whispered, his voice rough, his glance wicked.

Dumbfounded at the assault, Archie surrendered. Then, he felt teeth suddenly graze his throat, a demanding mouth fed off of him. Long fingers curved around his buttock, bracing him against the onslaught of a thrust. For a moment, Archie froze. Fear seized him at the unforeseen fury that crushed down upon him. Without thinking, he wailed, "Oh please, Jack, don't..."

The weight rolled off him. A tender touch searched him. He heard Horatio's voice.

"I'm sorry, Archie. I'm dreadfully sorry."

"Oh my God, I didn't mean that," Archie gasped, shaking and shuddering, his blue eyes filling with tears. "Horatio, you have to believe me."

"Shhh, no harm's done. Least of all to me. I should have thought..."

"No, I'm to blame. I can't seem to put my past to rest."

"Archie, I will never hurt you. I bear no grudge. I only want what's pleasing to you."

"Kiss me then."

Tenderly, Archie felt himself enfolded. A long leg slipped over his. Horatio kissed him chastely. Then, he nestled against his chest and somehow inched up his shirt. Soft lips, and a clever tongue explored him. Archie sighed and dug his fingers into the dark, thick curls, dragging the precious countenance up to meet his gaze.

"Horatio, we must stop."

"Why? I'm only a little tired."

"Captain Pellew will return any moment. He'll walk right through that door and see us."

"The Captain? I dreamed of him."

"No, Horatio. It was no dream. He held you in his arms last night."  

SA: Even MORE about the Afternoon

Conversations in the Afternoon... (Surgeon's Art) By AZARAD    

"The Captain? I dreamed of him."

"No, Horatio. It was no dream. He held you in his arms last night."

Archie's heart broke. He watched Horatio's face beam like the sun rising, at the news of Pellew's presence, not just in the town but in the very room of the inn where they quartered. The truth was clear. Horatio's heart belonged to their captain. His body might be his comrade's plaything for a time, but his inner being would never belong to Archie. They were, at best, brothers in arms.

At the mention of Captain Pellew's name, Horatio's body blushed with physical desire. Archie's heart turn to emerald, brittle and green. How long had they been lovers aboard the Indy, Archie wondered. No doubt Pellew squandered his fortune to save his darling, caring little for the rest of them.

Archie suddenly clamped his eyes shut. He hated the vision of his father embracing his elder brother while excluding him from his affection. Never so much as a caress left for him. Even after years of separation, two years of exemplary service in the Navy, he received only indifference from his father. It had been a cold Christmas that year. And he'd made the acquaintance of Jack Simpson.

"Archie? What's wrong?" Horatio asked,

Archie blinked back the past. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry, Horatio." He rubbed his eyes again and sighed. "Ghosts haunt me."

"I'll chase them for you," Horatio offered, his hands stroking Archie's fine smooth skin, raising his nipples and sending waves of lust through him, making him squirm.

"You will do nothing of the sort," Archie said firmly, pushing his friend away, restraining the eager advances of his hands. "You are ill and if you expect to recover, you must rest. Conserve your body's fluids. You lost a great deal of blood."

Horatio settled next to him on the great soft bed. He toyed with Archie's hair and trailed his long, slender fingers from his temples to the curve of his shoulders. Archie relaxed a little but kept his eye on the door. He heard the sounds of his own breathing, harsh and ragged. Then he heard Horatio speaking.

"Tell me what happened, Archie. I confess, after hearing Don Masaredo order me back to prison, I remember very little. I felt my hand shatter the window glass."

"You slashed your arm, Horatio. Captain Pellew caught you as you fell to the floor, bleeding to death. He pressed the vein closed and held you until Dr. Hepplewhite arrived. Look! The window's not yet mended."

Horatio looked at the broken window pane, then at his bandaged arm. Archie watched as his color changed and his wide eyes rolled.

"Oh dear!"

SA: Quiet Afternoon...

The Long Quiet Afternoon...
Surgeon's Art by AZARAD    

Horatio looked at the broken windowpane, then at his bandaged arm. Archie watched as his color changed and his wide eyes rolled.

"Oh dear!"

"Oh, never fear. You've been forgiven. Do you remember your last words? You begged his forgiveness and he gave it."

Archie smiled reassuringly at his friend. He pulled up the bedcovers over Horatio's nakedness. He listened for the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs.

Horatio brightened and reached out for Archie, drawing him in with him under the blankets. He looked into his comrade's sky blue eyes and said, "So, he's not angry?"

"Not at all," Archie said honestly, propped on one elbow, facing his friend. "He's concerned with your health and he has pardoned you. So have the Spaniards. That fellow, Ducos, is alive. The Scot and our solicitor explained that his death had been a ruse. The man loaded his pistols with weak powder. He intended for us to get hold of them. It seems that the French seriously wanted to remove you from the Spanish prison. Their plan all along was to get you transferred to France. I think they believe you are still a spy."

Horatio shook his head and reclined into the pillows, staring at the ceiling. "Archie," he said, "that man was dead. Now, you are telling me that he is alive?

"Yes, I saw him."

"Well, in that case, I will praise God and thank Captain Pellew for sending us our barrister."

"You should do well by making a speedy recovery, Horatio."

"I believe I have. I feel quite myself. In fact, I'd like something to eat."

"I'll ring for a servant. In the meantime, how about a bath? There is a big tub of beautiful water here. It's almost warm too.

"I should like that."

Archie rang for the servant. Within minutes, hot water was added to the bath for the injured man. Senor Calderon sent up fine soap and a small jar of olive oil, to be applied afterward, he informed them. Then in an hour, he promised to return with a light supper. To add to the comfort of his guests, freshly washed linen was laid on the bed before the servants left them to their ablutions.  

SA: Late Afternoon

Surgeon's Art by AZARAD
(Afternoon Delights... Warning: WARM)    

As soon as the door closed Archie locked it. He gave Horatio a wicked grin and eased his friend into the tub of warm water. Archie was pleased to note that Horatio seemed pliant and trusting. Mindfully, Archie raised Horatio's injured arm above his head to keep the wound's dressing dry. Archie couldn't help but tease the ticklish region left unguarded by the posture. Horatio twisted away the first time, but then, all resistance melted and he surrendered completely into his friend's unerring hands.

First of all, Archie lathered the fine soap and slowly washed Horatio's thick, long hair. He poured several pitchersful over his head to rinse him clean. His face up, eyes closed, Horatio's long eyelashes dripped with diamonds a moment before Archie toweled his countenance dry. Then, prolonged smooth strokes of the soap stripped away the grime from Horatio's back. With more artful caresses, Archie washed his companion's chest, raising the coral buds, drawing out longing sighs, Rendering, it seemed, his victim incapable of coherent speech.

Finally Archie reached into the depths of the tub, pulling up first one then the other of Horatio's long legs. From toes to crotch, he washed lovingly. Archie smiled seeing the effects of his efforts bringing comfort to his friend. His clean white skin grew flushed with pleasure. At last, Archie tenderly grasped the stout staff jutting upwards and fondled the valuables between Horatio's firm thighs. Only moments later, passion's tide crested and Horatio appeared to be sleeping, his body relaxed in the ebb of desire's retreat.  

SA: Late Afternoon Toward Evening...

Surgeon's Art
by AZARAD
Chapter call "Pellew's Debt"

(At the inn, Archie watches Horatio recover from his wounds.)

Only moments later, passion's tide crested and Horatio appeared to be sleeping, his body relaxed in the ebb of desire's retreat.

Archie watched the slow rhythmic rise and fall of Horatio's chest. His head, pillowed by a thick towel, rested on the sloping edge of the tub. The milky water rippled in the warm caress of the sea breeze from the open windows. Archie took out his comb and gently went to work on his friend's hair before tangles set in the thick curls. The water cooled and Horatio slipped deeper into sleep.

A light scratching on the door. Archie got up and whispered to the caller, "Quien es?"

"Ricardo Calderon, senor. Tengo la cena."

"Bueno. Entre, senor."

Quickly and efficiently, the innkeeper set their placings, lit a pair of candles and placed a large covered dish on the table. Then he turned and tilted his head. Archie nodded his approval. Then, the two men lifted Hornblower out of the tub, dried him and dressed him in a silk sleeping gown. The brujo checked his patient's vitals and pronounced him progressing toward complete recovery. All he need to do was eat a little food and drink a full glass or two of rich, red Spanish wine.

Joy soared in Archie's heart when Horatio yawned and peered owl-like at him from his seat at the table. Just the evening before, death had threatened them. Tonight, they celebrated their victory. Archie spooned saffron rice and prawns onto their plates.

"You'll like paella, Horatio. Senor Calderon's family owns a fishing boat. Oh, did you know his eldest son was one of the sailors you rescued off the Spaniard that Indy chased up on the rocks near the point?"

"I didn't know that, Archie. Please convey my thanks for all he's done. And my compliments on the delicious meal."

"Of course, Horatio. By the way, he examined you while helping me dress you. He said you are mending well. You still need wine to fortify your blood."

"Well, pour me a glass or three. As long as you drink too."

"To the Indy."

"Long may she sail."

The food was excellent and the wine filled their glasses several times. Archie smiled to see Horatio's eyes grow heavy. The injured man asked for help into bed and within moments seemed sound asleep. Archie went to the balcony and peered out at the deepening sky. Stars began to twinkle and nightbirds began their calls. The scent of jasmine was heavy in the air. Archie sighed and hot tears flooded his eyes.

He turned away from the warm night. He gazed at his friend, snug and safe in the fresh sheets, a new man. Archie wept at his own misfortune, his failures and his crippling past. The storms of his life seemed endless. The few days of calm were never enough time to heal. Horatio would get well. Horatio would no longer need his friend.

The balcony overlooked the cobbled yard of the inn. High enough, Archie thought. Glass shards still littered the floor. Horatio had shown him the places to cut. He looked at his left arm. No one, he mused, would arrive to press closed the blood vessel. In the morning, he'd lie cold, but free. Horatio would understand his reasons. Ghosts were to blame.    

SA: Early Evening...

Surgeon's Art by Azarad
More and More...  

The balcony overlooked the cobbled yard of the inn. High enough, Archie thought. Glass shards still littered the floor. Horatio had shown him the places to cut. He looked at his left arm. No one, he mused, would arrive to press closed the blood vessel. In the morning, he'd lie cold, but free. Horatio would understand his reasons. Ghosts were to blame.

Archie picked up a fine sliver of glass. He gazed out toward the sea once more and watched as lights were lit on Indefatigable. How he wanted to rise to the challenge of such a name. Such a mighty name. Yet, he was tired. He wanted to rest.

Rustling linen caught his quick ear. He snapped his head around and his jaw dropped. Horatio was staring at him, dark eyes glittering in the candlelight like the midnight sea reflecting moonlight.

"Come to bed, Archie."

A thousand thoughts rushed through Archie's brain but not one left his mouth. He shook his head and turned to look at Indefatigable once again. He rubbed the back of his hand across his moist eyes. He clutched the little sliver of glass in trembling fingers. He tried hard to breathe without sobbing.

"Archie, come to bed. Rest a while with me. You must be exhausted."

The voice was soft and sultry. Never demanding, never threatening. Horatio had never ordered him in these matters. Rather, he coaxed. Sometimes, he even sulked a little until he got his way. Archie couldn't help but smile. More tears spilled down his cheeks.

Quietly, Archie answered, his voice shaking, "Captain Pellew will be arriving any moment, Horatio. I don't think he'd approve of our playfulness."

"I suppose not," Horatio agreed with a long sigh. "He is very serious."

Impatient suddenly with his friend, Archie blurted out, "Horatio, our Captain loves you. I watched him last night. He was beside himself with worry. Moreover, now that you are mending, one smoldering look from your eyes, one nod of encouragement, and we'd see a very different Captain."

Archie paused as Horatio rolled his eyes and sank back into his pillows, speechless, completely stunned by his comrade's revelations.

When Horatio had nothing to say, Archie continued, "So you see, Horatio, my place is not in your bed, my dearest friend. I have to find my own way."

Archie drew the shard of glass over his skin cutting a thin scarlet ribbon. He winced at the pain and hated his own cowardice. Then he heard noise in the yard below. Captain Pellew, their solicitor and the Scot. Another man walked behind them into the inn. He had not spoken. A thrill ran through Archie's body. He wondered who the stranger was. Why he seemed familiar.  

SA: MORE Early Evening...

Surgeon's Art by AZARAD Chapter called Pellew's Debt  

Archie drew the shard of glass over his skin cutting a thin scarlet ribbon. He winced at the pain and hated his own cowardice. Then he heard noise in the yard below. Captain Pellew, their solicitor and the Scot. Another man walked behind them into the inn. He had not spoken. A thrill ran through Archie's body. He wondered who the stranger was. Why he seemed familiar.

Dropping the sliver of glass, Archie rushed to the door, flung it open and ran down the stairs. He stopped at the landing and saluted his Captain.

"All's well, sir," Archie gasped, as the men approached. "The patient ate a light meal and he's resting quietly."

"Thank you, Mr. Kennedy. I'll see for myself presently. Did Mr. Calderon give further instructions regarding our patient?"

"He gave us a little pot of olive oil, to be well rubbed into the skin to relax Mr. Hornblower, sir. To help him sleep."

"Thank you, Mr. Kennedy. I'm sure I can manage that. Now, have you had any rest?"

"No, sir but I'm wide awake."  

"I'm sure you are... Even so, I'm sending you with a friend to get some sleep. He says he knows you from your days aboard Justinian. May I present Mr. Henry Clayton of his Majesty's diplomatic service. He has offered to share his rooms with you."

Slowly, the man shouldered his way past the tall Scot. He swept off his hat and extended his delicate hand. Archie stared. His vision blurred a little. He felt tears flooding his eyes. The man stepped a little closer and gave him a searching gaze, wondering no doubt at his reluctance.

"It's good to see you, Mr. Kennedy. I'd heard you were lost."

"I, I..."

"Time for all that later. Let's look in on our friend, Mr. Hornblower. Yes?"

"This way." Archie leaped up the stairs, At the threshold, he turned to make sure everyone followed. Then he held the door for the Captain.

The look on Captain Pellew's face was a mixture of relief and sadness. Clayton stood patiently, taking in the scene, a small smile on his calm features. The Scot seemed indifferent and eager to be on his way. Their lawyer was gathering his things quickly into his traveling cases. It was Mr. Andropolis who placed the little jar of olive oil into Captain Pellew's hand and pointed at the youth sleeping in the bed.

"Start on the back of his neck. Work your way down the spine. Hippocrates always recommended this method."

"I'll begin at once."

"Better warm the oil a little and your hands too."  

Surgeon's Art
Pellew's Debt
By AZARAD

The look on Captain Pellew's face was a mixture of relief and sadness. Clayton stood patiently, taking in the scene, a small smile on his calm features. The Scot seemed indifferent and eager to be on his way. Their lawyer was gathering his things quickly into his traveling cases. It was Mr. Andropolis who placed the little jar of olive oil into Captain Pellew's hand and pointed at the youth sleeping in the bed.

"Start on the back of his neck. Work your way down the spine. Hippocrates always recommended this method."

"I'll begin at once."

"Better warm the oil a little and your hands too."

Archie moved closer to Henry Clayton after gathering his own few belongings. Mr. Andropolis had a few words in private with Captain Pellew who appeared suddenly quite red in the face, as if something had embarrassed him. The Scot gave the solicitor a sharp slap on the shoulder and pointed at the door.

"Henry, should we be going too?" Archie asked, his voice a solemn whisper.

"I think so. Your Captain can tend Horatio best if left alone."

"Well, I want to hear about you, Henry. How did you join the diplomatic service?"

"I will explain all presently. Let us bid our friends good night."

So in twos, they left the room. The Scot and Mr. Andropolis went down to the public room for a drink. Kennedy and Clayton went downstairs to the rooms the ambassador's aide retained during his stay in the town.

Captain Pellew found himself alone with the only man he'd ever known able to affect his very dreams. Sir Edward looked down at the little jar he held in his hands. My God, he thought. His hands were trembling.

Nothing worse than an old fool, he said to himself. He opened the jar and poured a small amount into the hollow of his palm. It smelled of basil, a mouthwatering aroma. Dipping two fingers into the puddle, he sat carefully on the edge of the bed and touched Horatio's left temple. Slow circular movements, working gradually into sweeps across the cheekbones and under the jaw.

He watched the muscles on the young man's face relax. He applied more oil using both hands, gently probing his fingers into the tense cords at the back of Horatio's neck, working his way across the wide planes of his shoulders, over the swelling roundness of his upper arms, feeling the joints loosen and flesh grow pliant.

Down the spine, Andropolis had said. Over the waves of ribs, to the small of his back and the uplift of his firm buttocks. Bolder now, Pellew swept away the linen and laid bare the sleeping youth whose steady breathing was mingled with long, deep sighs. Strong fingers kneaded the rounded thighs, first the left and then the right. The muscular calves and the delicate ankles each received their due.

Then with a twisting lift of Horatio's legs, Pellew rolled his patient over. He gazed only a moment at the classical beauty of the pale skinned youth amid the alabaster sheets. Dark hair curled at his groin and Pellew tore his eyes away, flinging the sheet's corner over the tempting sight. Pellew wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He was sweating.

More oil and Pellew began on Horatio's right foot. At the touch of the man's hand on the high arching sole, the sleeping body quivered. Horatio's eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched. He swallowed, tossing his head from side to side on the pillow. As Pellew continued, moving to the other foot, Horatio's hands tore at the sheets. He seemed to writhe in agony, yet he remained fast asleep. All the while, Pellew gazed at the effects his touch brought forth. Effects that seemed like torture. Except that the young man was becoming aroused.

Captain Pellew smoothed a little more oil over the tops of Horatio's thighs, determined to finish his task. The long legs parted and Pellew beheld a posture of such voluptuousness that he retreated from the bed fearful of his own carnal appetites. Then, he heard the whispered words.

"Don't leave me, please."

Pellew looked into smoldering, dark eyes, warmly reflecting the last light of the failing candles. A sensuous mouth and full lips formed words that begged him to stay. Arms stretched out to him, offering him what he dreamed to possess.

Good Captain Pellew rose from the bed before passion's storm shred