Finding Grey

I'm sure you've heard the story told

To the young by the wise and grey old

Of strong sea faring men

Who's wills of iron could never bend

The Legend of Blackbeard and his crew

But permit me to say you were fooled

For he wasn't just a wicked pirate you see,

He was a friend, a brother and father to me.

I'd like to tell my own version of the story so get comfy and get a cup of tea or some other piping hot beverage, add a few crumpets and cookies on a dainty little saucer because our story starts in a house with a setting as such.

31, October 1682

A lone house, a manor to be exact sat on a low crest Hill in the countryside of the Crown's reaches in its primary province. The grounds filled with trees and a little Creek to the North East of the home were silent, everyone and everything was listening attentively, waiting intently for something it seemed but to some, these were signs of foreboding, a great evil was coming to the world. On this matter, I'd let you be the judge.

The fire place of the manor crackled contently oblivious to the tension in the air, the smell of old books and liquid ink lightly flowed in the enclosed space. The windows, slightly opened up, the autumn breeze had become cooler than when they first begun, winter was coming. The honey coloured sun rays from the evening sun bounced off the wooden floors and blessed the study with less drab of a look.

The lord of the house paced round his study waiting for news, any news at all, any news that had to do with his screaming wife in their bedroom as she was tended to by their numerous maids and the midwives. The ring on his smallest finger seemed to be irritating him by the way he kept twisting it around.

"Good lord help us," he silently prayed as he paced wiping the cold sweat of his face with his kerchief but it made little difference, the satin material was more of a decorative piece, his white cotton ones where in the room and for the past four hours he hadn't been allowed to even take a wee peek into the guarded room. She was his wife but the blasted women wouldn't budge. There was a cognac in his tables drawer but he had a feeling it wouldn't soothe his nerves, he'd never really been one for drinking especially if it was brewed or fermented.

He stroked his beard noticing it was becoming clumsy he'd have to snip it later. There was no way he was going to degrade himself to look like his brother, the scraggly ol' ruffian was an eyesore. Though he had to admit it looked nice whenever the oaf decided to untangle his forest. The thick mass of black was quite the family trait. A mane, full and dark.

"Your lordship," one of the maids he could no longer keep a track off said.

He spun around faster than his wife's new spinner for sewing, "yes?" He replied anxiously, "is my wife okay? Is the babe out?"

She did a quick curtsie but the Lord hardly paid attention to the gesture, he imagined she knew no better, who took note of curtsies in times like this.

"Yes milord, the Lord blessed be his name has truly smiled on your household today, a beautiful boy," she said though half of the sentence was spoken to the empty space before her.

The Tensed husband had sped out of the room the moment the lass said 'yes'. The silence was broken by his heavy footfalls and the loud albeit muffled cries of his baby. He burst into the room, the sentries doing well to clear out of his way. To think they were so adamant a short while back.

"Look love, our blessing has finally come, God has finally heard our prayers my love," his wife said as she watched him come into the room, she cooed at the babe and with her eyes commanded the rather well built lord of the house to come to her side and hold his child.

His feet seemed to fail him at first and though it was rather unseemly for a man of his position, he let tears stream down his face shamelessly as he took shaky steps to the epicenters of his love. He fell to his knees at the bedside and took the little human in his hands.

She chuckled, as she watched the usually capable man fumble unsure if he was holding the child right, "He has your chin, but took my cheeks and obsidian eyes, my most defining features as you called them. You should be jealous," His wife exhaled as she settled back on the bed with a smirk on her face those words weren't gonna register until the next day.

She sighed content that they were finally here. It took four miscarriages but they were finally here. Her bones ached, it had been a really long journey to get them here.

He stared at the babe as it latched unto his little finger, eyes closed and unaware of the world around him. He let his tears flow as he muttered a short prayer of thanks.

"What would you like to call him dear?" He asked as he kissed the babe's head. He looked at her but….

"Milord, she is not breathing," one of the attendants said, a finger placed below his wife's nose.

He couldn't believe it, he didn't want to but eventually he couldn't deny it, his lady had passed away right after giving birth to their child.

The old silence of the manor, now returned,

was rent with the cry of a broken man,

A man without love whom cruel fates turned

A son to groom by half the hands