Annalea, a Princess in Exile

ANNALEA

A PRINCESS IN EXILE

Copyright Stephen James Shore 2009

Published by WriteAbout StephenJShore

Intellectual Properties Unlimited

http://stephenjshore.com/default.aspx

Other titles by WriteAbout StephenJShore available at Smashwords and the Author's website include, the Annalea series: an historical fiction trilogy where mystery, romance and adventure unfold in the remarkable Saga of Annalea.

ANNALEA, PRINCESS OF NEMUSMAR http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/914

http://stephenjshore.com/Annalea.asp

ANNALEA, A PRINCESS IN EXILE (this volume)

http://stephenjshore.com/exile.aspx

ANNALEA, A JOURNEY THROUGH STRANGERS—AT JOURNEY'S END http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/3887

http://stephenjshore.com/Journey.aspx

The Annalea series is also available at BarnesandNoble.com and many other fine ebook retailers.

Enjoy an offbeat western

The misguided zeal and get rich quick credo of a young cowboy put him on opposing sides of the law at different times. But he no longer seeks to make a name, just a whole lot of dollars. Perhaps he can play on both sides without getting caught in the middle. He rides into the desert on an honorable quest and rides out as the outlaw Chili Beans Bartlett. But he remains a reluctant outlaw. Let him tell you his story in his own words.

HOW I BECAME AN OUTLAW, BY CHILI BEANS BARTLETT http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/12575

http://stephenjshore.com/Outlaw.aspx

Do you like a mystery?

Do you enjoy a character-driven story where the plot is suspenseful? Do you want to become intimately involved in the lives of these characters? Do you expect a good story to have balance (like a real life) between tension and release—between anger and humor? Do you want to see my Sinful Images? Do you have a valid ID? Sinful Images is an Adult Novel where real-life characters, like people in real life, get romantically involved. The process is predictable: involving sexual content and some graphic language. The result, however, is unpredictable.

Sinful Images is available at many fine ebook retailers, including BarnesandNoble.com and

Smashwords http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/2172

Fictionwise http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/b89062/?si=0

The Author's Website http://stephenjshore.com/Sinful.aspx

and many, many other fine ebook retailers.

Sinful Images in print is available at BarnesandNoble.com, Amazon.com, The Author's Website http://stephenjshore.com/SinPrint.aspx

All vendors for WriteAbout titles may be found and contacted at http://stephenjshore.com/Purveyors.aspx

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

Not to be reproduced or otherwise used without the express permission of the Author.

Annalea, A Princess In Exile

by Stephen James Shore

Index

Annalea, A Princess In Exile

Chapter I - A New Course for Us

Chapter II - Crockett's Island

Chapter III - The Laundress Hath No Clothes?

Chapter IV - The Apparition

Chapter V - The Little Shoppe

Chapter VI - Face-To-Face, At Last

Chapter VII - Whither Goest Annalea

Chapter VIII - To England!

Chapter IX - A Matter of Family

Chapter X - Herein is the Bargain

Chapter XI - Inseparable Companions are Parted by Necessity

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the ladies. All of those marvelous women and girls I’ve known well throughout my life and who have provided the inspiration and the characteristics for Annalea, Mam’ Tiére and all the significant women in this series. Each woman in my stories has at least one counterpart in my life.

I have always told people, truthfully, that all of the women in my family are saints. The men are another matter–for another time. But this is about the women. They provided the virtue, the tenacity and the wisdom that reside in my characters. These traits were evident in Lumina, my grandmother; Yvette, my mother; Lucille and Sylvia, my aunts; and so many more–too numerous to mention.

So I’ll mention just a few more, who may become familiar to readers of this book. This dedication is also for Margaret, Alicia and Andrea. For Christine and Sarah. And yes of course, for you, too, Duvessa!

Stephen J. Shore

Chapter I

A New Course for Us

The captain had charted an entirely new course for us–on the sea and in our lives. I can tell you, spirits were high, those days. The future was uncertain, but the future is always uncertain. Any man who thinks his future certain, is certainly a fool–and certain for disappointment. So we were unconcerned–but not incautious. We'd still days to travel through Spanish waters, and the captain's instructions were to strike at any vessel spied, regardless flag or form, afore they spied us!

But the sailing was good: the weather fine, and the crossing uneventful. The captain thought to expand on our guise of an entrepreneurial merchanter commissioned to transport a group of deposed settlers and their slaves. This time, we'd seek asylum in the French territories. This would prove more advantageous, since–at least–so many of our lot could converse in the French: the captain, Annalea, Mam' Tiére, Reena and most of the former slaves, and most of the crew and the women aboard–most everyone, save Crockett. Oh, I know a word or two. I actually understand several more of 'em than I can pronounce, for some strange reason. But I'd not wish to be plopped down in the heart of Paris and have to talk me way out of that country. I'd probably never find the city limits!

But loquacious or tongue-tied, I was bound with the rest to the Bay of Mobile and the settlement on the bluffs which serves as the colonial capital of Louisiana. This was all new territory for me, 'though not so for some of our people. The captain, for instance, became acquainted with the area during various campaigns, some decades afore. And now, he'd already plotted the area and marked out place names that were foreign to me in location as well as sound. Places like Mobile, and Dauphin Island, and Biloxi, and Fort Maurepas.

I particularly disliked the sound of that last one: "Fort Maurepas." It brought forth discomforting visions of military, jails and gallows! But what choice had I in any of this? None. So, onward I must go–in uninformed optimism. Vive la Frenchies!

We did not make right for any port, town or settlement. With the expansive coastline of the mainland, and various small islands available, 'twas easy (and wiser) to make landfall unannounced. This we did. We found a small inlet which provided us with security, and we put ashore. The captain organized a hunting party and sent them out to harvest fresh meat and scout the vicinity.

A campfire was started, and I sat with the captain, afore it.

Are you thinking we should settle here, Cap'n?

No, Mr. Crockett. But I am considering whether this secluded place might not make an ideal base for future ventures.

I did not understand this. I thought our intent was to hide away, amongst the Frenchies?

That is part of it, Crockett–a considerable part of it. But, of still greater consideration is the acquisition of the goods and monies necessary to prepare for, and undertake, the great Atlantic crossing. And there must remain enough wherewithal to provide the security and influence that money can purchase back in England.

So, what is the problem, Cap'n? Bound to be a goodly amount of traffic in and 'round the bay, methinks. Why, we could live in relative comfort at the Frenchies' settlement, and just pluck prizes out of the waters–almost at will. 'Twould be like setting in your quarters and casting a line out your window, direct into the sea, and pulling up a fish every time! Nothing wrong with that, eh, Cap'n?

The humourous intent of these images I verbally conjured was missed by the captain. "Firstly, Crockett, you should know better than to propose such a scheme. Never piss in your own parlour! Secondly, you've need to know that most vessels sailing in that immediate area are bound to be French. And French vessels are even more pathetic than English vessels, as regards the quantity and quality of treasure that might be acquired by harvesting them.

No, me plan is to establish and maintain the guise we've prepared, and to dwell respectably amongst the French. We must be seen as kindly, generous, hospitable neighbours: not threatening in any manner. As an industrious merchant, it shall, of course, be necessary for me to go out to sea quite often, to ply me trade. It shall be then, from a place such as this, that we shall conduct our true business. With the lads, and not the ladies, aboard we shall take to the high seas, bound for the shipping routes trafficked by Spanish galleons thinking to export the treasures of the colonies to Spain. We shall relieve them of their burdens, return our prizes to a place such as this, and return to the French settlement as seemingly competent merchants–with a few extra coins in our purses, to spread around.

Delightful, Cap'n! And so much the better to attack and sink Spanish ships, and kill Spanish soldiers, and take Spanish gold. Methinks I speak for all when I say it shall be the ideal combination of profit and pleasure!

I had but one more question on me mind, at that time. Looking about me at the relatively flat landscape, impenetrable to the eye due to overgrowth and bramble–where each soggy bit of earth seemed to sink under each footstep–I asked, Cap'n, are you expecting us to make for the French settlement overland, through this bog and mire?

No, Crockett, that would not be wise. Should we present ourselves at the French settlement from out of the woods, they might mistake us for the pesky Spaniards and fire upon us.

Well, Cap'n, we all are plagued by those pesky Spaniards, for certain. But I'd like to know how they tolerate these pesky mosquitoes! Damn, these things bite! Like a plague of tiny, flying alligators!

In due time, the lads returned–with a deer, a raccoon, several squirrels, and some other thing I didn't even want to know about. And they reported that the surrounding terrain was tangled, frustrating and damned near impassable. That was just what the captain had wanted to hear. With our back secure, anyone who'd come looking for us–or our treasure–could approach only from the sea. Thus we would spy any visitors, and be prepared to greet their arrival!

So we et, and the captain planned: laying out the purpose of this hideaway and the process for bringing his plan to fruition. Later, we walked the area and the captain marked out a perimeter, within which our enterprise would operate and our profits be hidden. The captain set forth assignment of what needed to be done, and who would do it. Satisfied that enough had been accomplished for that day, the captain announced we'd make camp there for the eve, and sail on to the French settlement on the morrow.

Everyone seemed to settle in fairly well, and–except for the guards posted–everyone soon fell to sleep. Everyone save one: Crockett! There was no way I'd fall asleep with those infernal mosquitoes feasting on me hide! 'Twould seem they never give it a rest. I rowed meself back out to the ship, and had a better night's sleep there.

Matter of fact, I was still snoozing quite pleasantly when I heard the clamour of noisy boarders. 'Twould seem the discomfort of our secluded hideaway–what I'd call a mosquito infested swamp–had finally gotten the better of all hands, causing all to rise early and hasten back aboard ship, without waiting for sunlight or sustenance. Having had the good sense to reason this out the night afore, I was well rested and not of the ornery temperament of the others. I sympathized for 'em, sort of.

But I truly felt sorry for Millbrook and his crew of five, who'd been instructed by the captain to remain behind: to begin the preparations for the site the captain had planned. And also to serve as lookout. From that time onward, the captain would not leave that site unmanned. He would know if anyone had been there. And he'd know–by signal, on approach–if anyone was lurking there, in wait. There'd be no surprises!

~~

April 19, 1718, at a shadowed corner table in the Boar’s Head Inn, in Bristol, a grizzled old sea dog sits with a younger man in gentleman’s attire. The young gentleman interrupts the older man’s story and brings forth a document. This, sir, is the last missive I hold from you. It was despatched from the French territories. Does this indicate...?

But the old sea dog will not yield his dominance in this conversation. Practice patience, lad, and you shall know all you seek to know.

There is not much I can tell you 'bout the details of our time in the French territories, 'cepting the weather–which was warm–and the insects–which were constant. Not having a fair enough acquaintance with the French tongue, I tended to hold back from intercourse with the inhabitants of the region, and kept to the background as much as possible. 'Course, 'twas not always a simple matter for me to know when we were in or out of the French territory. Like all the Europeans, the French tended to claim most everything as their own–even places they'd never been. And as far as the Spanish were concerned, the French had no territory; they were just trespassing on Spanish territory. No matter, the eternal tension 'twixt those two natural rivals kept them occupied to a point where they were less bother to us.

Our arrival at their capital seemed not to cause any particular consternation or concern 'mongst the French settlers. Upon landing, the captain approached their officials with Annalea and Mam' Tiére in tow: obviously to soften and enhance the first acquaintance. I stayed aboard ship–happily so–and kept all prepared for a hasty retreat, if necessary. But 'twas not necessary; our amiable ambassadors charmed the breeches off of those Frenchies. And they took the captain's story, hook, line and sinker.

Over all, I'd have to say that those Frenchies proved a most agreeable lot: not suspicious, or intolerant or malicious by nature. For certain, French and English did not often reside together in the embrace of Christian brotherhood; but–at that time–most of the bad blood was felt and spilt back in Europe, or somewheres in the far northern climes of that immense western continent. As I've said, the Frenchies thereabouts had far more concern for the encroaching Spanish. They seemed rather pleased to accept someone like the captain: obviously a seasoned mariner and merchant, with an impressively armed vessel, who was compatibly hostile to the Spaniards!

And there was an attitude about the people that you more oft' find in those parts of the world than back in Europe with its highly restrictive, class-ridden social barriers, and its prohibitive institutions. I swear that is why they were all created: prohibition of human freedoms–the state to prohibit the mind from freedom of thought, the law to prohibit the body from freedom of action, and the church to prohibit the soul from freedom of choice. But out in the wilderness, where political boundaries can't really exist, all the prohibitions tend to break apart, and the people tend to resort to their own moral values–those natural truths that emanate from the human soul–and a dependence on themselves for physical, moral and spiritual support.

I've encountered this time and again in those parts of the world. And several times I've seen that newer, better order of life crumble and then disintegrate in the face of increasing European influence on older, established settlements. Once things are a bit more comfortable, the stay-at-home, unadventurous Europeans start to trek over, bringing along their refinements and their prohibitions: social cancers which rapidly devour human liberties.

Yet another thing 'bout these Frenchies that made them seem compatible to our lot, and amenable to our presence, was the complexion of their community. There were black skins and red skins and white skins–of various hues, mixed and mottled–much like our own complement. And 'though land could not be purchased from these French colonists–they'd no authority to sell the crown's property to outsiders–we were granted use of a fair-sized parcel of land in return for a fair-sized monetary contribution to their communal coffers, and the offer of assistance in repelling any Spanish visitors who might appear, unexpectedly.