Drago could not believe his good fortune at the court, being found not guilty of the kidnapping charge and having it dismissed. The sentence for the priest shocked him, banishment. He would have received worse if Bryantt had had his way.
The inn was the closest place to get an ale, so people headed there after the trials to celebrate. They drank til the wee hours. Later that night, Drago foun d himself alone, his only thoughts of the golden haired beauty who had stolen his heart.
Behind the bar he found a bottle of scotch. He took it with him to drink on the ride north in search of his true love.
He arrived at the brothel after they had locked the doors. He boarded a ship tied up at the pier and climbed up to the crows nest. He thought it would be safe to sleep here til the morning came, lighting up the hair of the woman of his dreams. He curled up around the mast and fell asleep, dreaming of Baylee.
Brilliant light shone through his eyelids to touch the throbbing pain in his head. He shielded his eyes with his hands as he sat up. His stomach grumbled and world seemed to be rocking. He realized it was the rocking of the ship on the waters, magnified by the height of the mast. He pulled himself up, clutching the rail. He felt dizzy and confused, seeing nothing but sea in every direction. He slid back down, sitting with his back to the rail as his foggy brain processed the situation. Once more, he pulled himself up. In every direction was only the sea. He swayed and listened to the canvas moan before the wind.
He had little choice but to climb down; he could not stay up there forever. Once on deck he was quickly surrounded by sailors with swords drawn. He folded his arms and demanded to speak to the captain. Swords wavered as the crew were dumbfounded by his attitude. They continued to hold him at blade point, but sent for the captain.
“Captain, I regret the current situation, but I seem to have forced myself on you. I offer you two options. I can pay for portage and travel as a passenger to your next port, or I can pay for my passage by working as a member of your crew. I am not expert in the ways of the sea, but I am a fast learner and stronger than any two men you may have.”
There was a long silence. “You are bold and arrogant,” the captain said. “But I will take you on as an apprentice seaman.” He motioned for a monster of a man to step forward. “Jack, see that he earns his meals.”
Within days, Drago was the most popular man on board. He learned every task the first time he was shown, but they mostly enjoyed his stories which he often acted out on their table top–tales of great battles and conquests of fair maidens.
There was one man on board who was not an admirer of the little man. The first mate was an Englishman who hated Scots. The dwarf would have been sleeping in the sea, but the first mate had seen the little man practising his swords, often taking on and defeating two or three men at a time. They were amazed that Drago was never defeated.
The nights were different. Alone, Drago’s eyes would fill with tears as he tried to sleep with images of the golden haired Godess, Baylee, in his head. His heart belonged to her no matter how far the ocean took him from her. Worse, he had no way to get word to her that he was alive and that his sole mission in life was to make his way back to her silken arms and ripe, full breaasts. Once they made port in Arachon, France, he would need to find passage back to Roxeter and the love of his life.