March 30th, 1614
Two days after the wedding that had linked two households for a lifetime, the Duke of Elan and his new Duchess set sail from Cicile, embarking on the journey that would take them to Pasai and the new life they had begun together. Though the sea voyage was the shortest leg of that journey, it was not one that was looked forward to by everyone who embarked, much to the amusement of certain of the company. Adelina was caught up in her excitement, her love of the sea, barely noticing the rolling of the deck beneath her feet. Her lady, however, was not quite so easily distracted from the roiling of her belly. Valeria had taken to her cabin soon after they had left the harbor, and had not been seen since.
The seamen on board ship seemed hardly to notice the roiling of the sea, as accustomed to it as they were, but another passenger on board, who was trying to be brave for the sake of his lady, was failing miserably. Leandro had never had the opportunity to acquire sea legs, and it seemed he was not about to do so on the return voyage home. The more the ship lurched, the greener he looked. He'd hardly eaten anything since coming on board. What was the point, when everything he ate just ended up in the sea"
By contrast, Adelina was fresh-faced, eager to stand in the prow and look ahead to the waves that would bear them onward, to admire the line of the coast they traversed, heedless of the rolling ship nor of the salt-touched wind that swept at her skin. She was young yet, and had little sympathy for those who could not stomach the journey, finding Valeria and Leandro's pale faces, tinged with green, more amusing than concerning. "You climb, si"" she suggested to her husband, pointing to the high mast. "It rock more, settle your stomach."
"Climb?" he echoed doubtfully, as he leaned against the rail, just in case his stomach decided to roll over again with the next wave. He turned a dubious gaze at the mast, paling further at the very thought of climbing to that height. Ask him to charge into battle with nothing but a horse and a sword, and he'd be more than happy to do his duty, but as far as sailing was concerned, he wanted nothing to do with it. "I do not think so."
She laughed at his denial of her suggestion, climbing herself onto the rail of the ship beside his uncomfortable frame. With one hand wrapped about the rigging beside her, she leaned far out over the water, looking down to point in delight at the dolphins keeping pace with the bow of the ship. "Guardare, Leandro, see" They keep safe us!"
"Good Goddess, Adelina!" he exclaimed, swallowing down the bile that was rising in his throat, reaching to pull her away from the edge. "Are you mad?" he asked, alarmed. These were not the calm waters of her Cicilia; this was the raging sea that was wont to swallow up those who were unfortunate enough to fall into her waters.
His alarm was more than enough to make her laugh once again, but the way he pulled her down from the railing brought her laughter bubbling forth without much restraint at all. "You no trust the sea, mio marito"" she asked him with impish mischief in her eyes. "She send delfini to see us safe. You feed, si"" With a wicked little snicker, she mimed throwing up over the railing before dissolving into giggles once again.
He scowled at her, eyes narrowed, at seeing how she seemed to have so little regard or sympathy for the weakness of his stomach. "You find this amusing, do you, wife?" he asked, putting an emphasis on that last word, knowing she'd understand it in his language or hers. Oh, he was going to have his revenge and it was going to be sweet.
In many ways, she was charmingly childlike in her lack of sympathy for his sea-sickness. Her amusement was not malicious, however poorly received it might be. His use of the word "wife", however, stilled her laughter, despite the smirk that curved her lips as she looked at him. "You big, strong man," she pointed out, as though this was perfectly reasonable. "You sick over wobbles."
"I did not grow up near the sea, like ..." He trailed off, as the ship rocked again and he was overcome with another wave of nausea, leaning overboard to "feed" the dolphins, so to speak. The sky was darkening in the distance and there was a distant rumble of thunder, which didn't bode well for those who were less hardy at sea. If it wasn't for Adelina, he would have gone below deck, like Valeria had done.
Despite her laughter, Adelina stayed at his side as he suffered through that eruption, her hand gentle on his back. She was not entirely heartless, after all. "Two days, il mio Duca," she promised him. "We step land again soon." She had yet to confess to him that she did not know how to ride - there had been no need to learn in Cicile, with its canals and gondolas.
Two days, he thought. It might as well be two years. He muttered a rare curse, as he wiped a hand across his mouth, which tasted as sour as the contents of his stomach. There would be no kisses shared until they were back on dry land. "Scuse, principessa. I am not accustomed to such voyages." He hoped she did not think him weak, though his stomach clearly was so.
"Duchessa," she corrected him gently, content to cast off her royal title and take his for her own. Withdrawing a cloth from her bodice, she took his hand to wipe it clean, folding the cloth once again to wipe his mouth clean. "You feel less sick in the wind, si"" she asked. "You drink, wash mouth. I fetch."
He was in no mood to be corrected on such a minor technicality as her title. For now, his only concern was trying to keep his stomach for doing somersaults. Touched by her concern, he softened a little, despite her apparent amusement at his situation. "Less sick?" he echoed, wondering how the wind would make him feel less sick when it was the wind that was to blame for rocking the damned ship.
She struggled to make sense of what she was trying to say. "Valeria, she stay sick, she out of air that is fresh," she tried to explain, smiling gratefully at a sailor who paused to hand her a water skin for the duke. "Grazie ....Drink, Leandro."
"But ..." he started to protest, not seeing the logic in ingesting something he would likely just end up retching again. When all was said and done, it came down to a matter of trust, and whether she was amused by his lack of seaworthiness or not, she seemed to know what she was doing and was genuinely trying to help. He took the water skin from her and reluctantly took a slow swallow, waiting to see if it would find its way back up.
"Look at land," she suggested to him then. "Or out ....across sea. Not to waves we ride, si?" She knew enough to understand that it was the motion of the ship that was upsetting his stomach, and focusing his eyes on something that did not seem to move would help him.
Two days after the wedding that had linked two households for a lifetime, the Duke of Elan and his new Duchess set sail from Cicile, embarking on the journey that would take them to Pasai and the new life they had begun together. Though the sea voyage was the shortest leg of that journey, it was not one that was looked forward to by everyone who embarked, much to the amusement of certain of the company. Adelina was caught up in her excitement, her love of the sea, barely noticing the rolling of the deck beneath her feet. Her lady, however, was not quite so easily distracted from the roiling of her belly. Valeria had taken to her cabin soon after they had left the harbor, and had not been seen since.
The seamen on board ship seemed hardly to notice the roiling of the sea, as accustomed to it as they were, but another passenger on board, who was trying to be brave for the sake of his lady, was failing miserably. Leandro had never had the opportunity to acquire sea legs, and it seemed he was not about to do so on the return voyage home. The more the ship lurched, the greener he looked. He'd hardly eaten anything since coming on board. What was the point, when everything he ate just ended up in the sea"
By contrast, Adelina was fresh-faced, eager to stand in the prow and look ahead to the waves that would bear them onward, to admire the line of the coast they traversed, heedless of the rolling ship nor of the salt-touched wind that swept at her skin. She was young yet, and had little sympathy for those who could not stomach the journey, finding Valeria and Leandro's pale faces, tinged with green, more amusing than concerning. "You climb, si"" she suggested to her husband, pointing to the high mast. "It rock more, settle your stomach."
"Climb?" he echoed doubtfully, as he leaned against the rail, just in case his stomach decided to roll over again with the next wave. He turned a dubious gaze at the mast, paling further at the very thought of climbing to that height. Ask him to charge into battle with nothing but a horse and a sword, and he'd be more than happy to do his duty, but as far as sailing was concerned, he wanted nothing to do with it. "I do not think so."
She laughed at his denial of her suggestion, climbing herself onto the rail of the ship beside his uncomfortable frame. With one hand wrapped about the rigging beside her, she leaned far out over the water, looking down to point in delight at the dolphins keeping pace with the bow of the ship. "Guardare, Leandro, see" They keep safe us!"
"Good Goddess, Adelina!" he exclaimed, swallowing down the bile that was rising in his throat, reaching to pull her away from the edge. "Are you mad?" he asked, alarmed. These were not the calm waters of her Cicilia; this was the raging sea that was wont to swallow up those who were unfortunate enough to fall into her waters.
His alarm was more than enough to make her laugh once again, but the way he pulled her down from the railing brought her laughter bubbling forth without much restraint at all. "You no trust the sea, mio marito"" she asked him with impish mischief in her eyes. "She send delfini to see us safe. You feed, si"" With a wicked little snicker, she mimed throwing up over the railing before dissolving into giggles once again.
He scowled at her, eyes narrowed, at seeing how she seemed to have so little regard or sympathy for the weakness of his stomach. "You find this amusing, do you, wife?" he asked, putting an emphasis on that last word, knowing she'd understand it in his language or hers. Oh, he was going to have his revenge and it was going to be sweet.
In many ways, she was charmingly childlike in her lack of sympathy for his sea-sickness. Her amusement was not malicious, however poorly received it might be. His use of the word "wife", however, stilled her laughter, despite the smirk that curved her lips as she looked at him. "You big, strong man," she pointed out, as though this was perfectly reasonable. "You sick over wobbles."
"I did not grow up near the sea, like ..." He trailed off, as the ship rocked again and he was overcome with another wave of nausea, leaning overboard to "feed" the dolphins, so to speak. The sky was darkening in the distance and there was a distant rumble of thunder, which didn't bode well for those who were less hardy at sea. If it wasn't for Adelina, he would have gone below deck, like Valeria had done.
Despite her laughter, Adelina stayed at his side as he suffered through that eruption, her hand gentle on his back. She was not entirely heartless, after all. "Two days, il mio Duca," she promised him. "We step land again soon." She had yet to confess to him that she did not know how to ride - there had been no need to learn in Cicile, with its canals and gondolas.
Two days, he thought. It might as well be two years. He muttered a rare curse, as he wiped a hand across his mouth, which tasted as sour as the contents of his stomach. There would be no kisses shared until they were back on dry land. "Scuse, principessa. I am not accustomed to such voyages." He hoped she did not think him weak, though his stomach clearly was so.
"Duchessa," she corrected him gently, content to cast off her royal title and take his for her own. Withdrawing a cloth from her bodice, she took his hand to wipe it clean, folding the cloth once again to wipe his mouth clean. "You feel less sick in the wind, si"" she asked. "You drink, wash mouth. I fetch."
He was in no mood to be corrected on such a minor technicality as her title. For now, his only concern was trying to keep his stomach for doing somersaults. Touched by her concern, he softened a little, despite her apparent amusement at his situation. "Less sick?" he echoed, wondering how the wind would make him feel less sick when it was the wind that was to blame for rocking the damned ship.
She struggled to make sense of what she was trying to say. "Valeria, she stay sick, she out of air that is fresh," she tried to explain, smiling gratefully at a sailor who paused to hand her a water skin for the duke. "Grazie ....Drink, Leandro."
"But ..." he started to protest, not seeing the logic in ingesting something he would likely just end up retching again. When all was said and done, it came down to a matter of trust, and whether she was amused by his lack of seaworthiness or not, she seemed to know what she was doing and was genuinely trying to help. He took the water skin from her and reluctantly took a slow swallow, waiting to see if it would find its way back up.
"Look at land," she suggested to him then. "Or out ....across sea. Not to waves we ride, si?" She knew enough to understand that it was the motion of the ship that was upsetting his stomach, and focusing his eyes on something that did not seem to move would help him.