1614. At long last, Belladonna has been reunited with Isaak, a pirate captain, on the island of Jamaica. Amidst the chaos of hurricanes and Spanish marauders, they are separated. When she discovers her beloved Isaak is captured and bound for execution in Spain, Belladonna goes back to Venice, planning to leverage her allies to save him, only to learn her influence has diminished. Now facing cunning adversaries and shifting alliances, she must navigate perilous intrigues in a high-stakes bid to rescue Isaak from a tragic fate. Belladonna risks everything, including her own safety, in a daring gambit to save the man she loves.
“Join Belladonna and Isaak on a Caribbean quest filled with rich history, dangerous risks, and suspenseful intrigue. Will the couple be reunited? Can Belladonna save her love and her soul? If you like an atmospheric adventure story, you’ll love The Courtesan’s Pirate. Witty and engaging!”
~ Kelly Oliver, author of The Fiona Figg & Kitty Lane Mysteries
“From the pirate-infested waters of the Caribbean to the silken-clad intrigues of Venice, Nina Wachsman vividly recreates life, and particularly the dangers faced by Jews, in the turbulent 17th century. Exciting and richly textured, with strong, admirable female characters.”
~ Alyssa Maxwell, author of The Gilded Newport Mysteries
PART 1 – THE NEW WORLD
CHAPTER 1 – BELLADONNA
THE ISLAND OF JAMAICA, The fifth of NOVEMBER, 1614
“Just a short trip to Curacao,” Isaak said, as he stood beside her on the dock, “I will return shortly, I promise.”
Belladonna wondered how many women had heard the very same words from their fathers, sons, and lovers, and how many had returned to their families, as promised.
“Why must you go?” Belladonna had waited so long and given up so much to be with Isaak. She secretly believed their union was at risk every time they were away from each other.
“Despite our efforts to attract the English to Jamaica, the Spanish have moved faster, and the heirs of Christopher Columbus have been bought off. We need to find somewhere else to settle,” Isaak said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.
She raised her eyes skyward, to keep the tears from rising. “Then my brother died for naught.”
“We cannot change the past, but we must try to find the way to our future, for you and I and for your brother Roderigo’s family. Curacao has been abandoned by the Spanish and will soon become part of the dominion of the Dutch West India Company.”
Belladonna wanted to believe his promise, but after a life tossed about at the whim of Fate, it seemed like random interventions could foil any plan they made for the future.
Isaak caressed her cheek. “It is also a port of call of the Jewish Brethren. Under the Dutch we have little to fear. The Dutch are the only nation who does not force its Jews to live separately in a Ghetto. We will soon formalize our union. There lies our potential future.”
Belladonna sighed. “In Curacao do you believe no one will care about our origins ̶ if we are Jew or Christian?”
Like her sister-in-law Mariella, she had begun life as the daughter of a New Christian landowner who had sought freedom in the New World. In a terrible twist of Fate, on a visit to Recife, Brazil, the Inquisition had murdered her parents because of their Jewish heritage, turning her into a refugee. Luck had found her, and she had been rescued by Isaak from Barbary pirates. Thanks to Isaak she had been taken to Venice, but he had soon set sail once more, leaving her to save others from captivity.
When Isaak returned to Venice to reunite her with her brother Roderigo, feelings between the courtesan and the corsair were rekindled, and Belladonna made her decision to sail with Isaak. Giving up her palazzo, her wealth and servants had gone against her usual cynicism but for once, she had chosen love over security.
“It is worth the chance,” said Isaak, and then he pulled her close, “You must stop nourishing your guilt over the death of Roderigo. You have come here to take care of his family as you promised. And we have accomplished the impossible: we are together at last.”
Belladonna acknowledged her satisfaction with her decision. “Over the past year in Jamaica and with you, I have discovered the comfort of family, which had been missing from my life for so long. Why dare Fate to disrupt our happiness once more?”
Isaak looked beyond her towards the sea. “There is a storm coming, which will provide us with a distraction to sail by Spanish war ships gathering along the coast.” He lifted her chin and brushed her lips with a last kiss. “Both the storm and the Spanish ships represent a bad omen. But do not fear, I am a seasoned captain and have sailed through worse brews than this. But my senses tell me our idyll in Jamaica is bound to come to an end. I must go to Curacao.”
Belladonna did not want to let him go, but he kissed her, and gently disengaged from her. She ran to the edge of the wooden dock, and leaned as far forward as she dared. He waved one last time as he boarded his ship. She reasoned that the fierce winds should be good for sailing and would speed Isaak’s journey. Squinting, she tried to see his figure on the bridge, imagining him making his farewell to Jamaica and to her.
Isaak’s fears about Jamaica were not unfounded. The Spanish were becoming bolder in establishing their dominion over the island, even though it officially remained under the sovereignty of the heirs to Christopher Columbus. The end of Jamaica’s independence was near, and once the Spanish took over, both she and Isaak, as well as her newfound family would be in danger because of their Jewish blood.
“Senora, we must go. Big storm is coming, and we must prepare. The sky do not look good. Horses do not like it.” The coachman peered up at the amassing dark clouds, and then gave her a pleading look.
Reluctantly, Belladonna turned away from the sea towards the mountains. “Let us go.”
Adjusting his hat so it was firmly placed on his head, the driver flicked his whip and the horses responded by taking off at a gallop, as if they were as eager as the driver to find shelter. Belladonna craned her neck, still looking towards the dock as they drove away.
The coachman kept the horses going at a fast gallop, so she had to hold tight to both sides of the carriage to avoid toppling forward. The wind kicked up the dust of the roadway, flinging it through the bushes and trees, shaking loose leaves and petals, swirling through the air and into their faces.
“Hiyah!” the coachman shouted again at the horses, flicking his whip so they galloped even faster. Used to traveling by boat in Venice, she knew little of carriages and put her faith in the coachman to get them home safely.
Lurching from side to side in the speeding carriage, she closed her eyes to shut out the frightening views of a careening landscape. She dared open them only when the carriage slowed, and the wails of the wind were softer. They had entered the sheltering thickness of the mangrove forest adjoining her brother’s land. The trees here were very thick and though their upper boughs still rustled in the wind, she felt more protected. The respite from the wind did not last long, and soon the carriage emerged from the mangrove trees into a slashing rain. The downpour swamped the open carriage, soaking her completely and making it even more difficult to move forward. Though it seemed like an eternity in the wind and rain, the coach soon drew to a sharp halt. Safe.
Her brother’s plantation house stood two stories tall, surrounded by trees, which the wind lashed against the closed shutters. Assailed by wind and rain, it did not seem to be the safe haven it had seemed several months ago when she first arrived on the island. After over a year at sea, when she first stepped onto the grand veranda, it had conjured long-ago memories of home. Though not as grand as the palazzo she possessed in Venice, it did have many rooms, furnished comfortably with bright island fabrics on sofas and chairs. There were flowers in abundance, and island paintings and pottery similar to her childhood home on the island.
That home and her family had been torn from her when the Inquisition came to Recife, Brazil where they had been visiting relatives. Her parents were New Christians, having been born Jews but then baptized, like many others who had come to the New World, and easy targets for accusations of heresy and the fires of an auto de fé. Both she and Roderigo had escaped capture, but each did not know the other survived until very recently, when they had found each other in Venice. Their reunion was short-lived; and Roderigo’s dying request was for Belladonna to find his family in Jamaica and make sure they were cared for.
After securing the door behind her, Belladonna stood in the entry hall, water dripping from her gown and pooling at her feet.
“Mariella!” she shouted, hoping her sister-in-law was in the house, and could hear her above the howling wind.
Mariella and Moises, her son, bounded down the stairway from the upper floor, each carrying armfuls of clothing and possessions.
“We do not have much time,” Mariella shouted back to her above the rattling of the shutters and the wind, “We must go. Take what you need.”
“We cannot stay here?”
Moises answered for his mother. “When the wind is this strong, the house is not safe. We must go to the Cave.”
Cave? Belladonna shivered in her wet clothes at the thought of it. Mentally, she checked off what she needed to take, including the small leather sack of jewels which had been with her since Venice. Hurrying up the stairs with her water-heavy skirts, she raced to her room. She quickly shed her wet clothing for dry ones, then pulled up a few select floorboards and retrieved the leather sack. She stuffed it into a bundle of clothing she had grabbed, and was heading for the stairs just as the shutters of her room banged wide open. Rain and wind invaded as Belladonna ran, skirting the flying debris of a large tree that had crashed through.
Her wet feet slid on the polished wood floors where she landed from her flight down the stairway, but neither Mariella nor Moises were in sight. She called out both their names, and let out a breath of relief when Moises emerged from behind the door to the servant’s area and beckoned to her.
She followed Moises below the stairs to the servants’ dining area and the kitchen. The servants’ quarters were protected by bushes and were on a lower level, so Belladonna assumed they could take refuge there. The few servants huddled together on plain wooden benches.
“Ready to go?” asked Mariella, Belladonna’s sister-in-law, who had taken full charge. “We have taken some food and supplies. The storm is growing more severe, and it is best we go now, or we will not be able to make it to the Cave.”
“What is this Cave?”
“The Cave of Christopher Columbus. It is on the highest point on the island, safe from flooding, and deep enough to avoid the damage of the wind.”
“That is not the same cave from the map that Roderigo—”
Mariella held up a hand and did not allow her to continue. “Yes, it is. But there is no time for talking or explaining. It is imperative we leave this house now, before another tree crashes down.”
A whimper from a maid was the only other comment as the servants were instantly on their feet, each clutching a bundle of belongings.
Mariella wrapped a shawl around her head and handed another to Belladonna to do the same. As soon as the outer door opened, the wind swept them into its maelstrom. Clustered together, they braced themselves as best as they could, and faced the storm.
***
Excerpt from The Courtesan’s Pirate by Nina Wachsman. Copyright 2024 by Nina Wachsman. Reproduced with permission from Nina Wachsman. All rights reserved.
Nina Wachsman is a graduate of the Parsons School of Design, where she studied under Maurice Sendak. She is currently lives and runs a digital agency in New York City. She is also a descendant of a chief rabbi of the Ghetto, a contemporary of her characters in the Venice Beauties Mysteries. The Gallery of Beauties, her debut novel set in 17th Century Venice, was an Agatha nominee for Best First Novel and a Silver Falchion finalist for Best Historical mystery. The second book in the Venice Beauties Mysteries, The Courtesan’s Secret received a 5 star recommendation from the Historical Fiction Company and is a Silver Falchion Top Pick and a finalist for the Silver Falchion for Best Historical. Nina has published stories, many with an art theme, in mystery and horror magazines and anthologies. She is one of the four authors who write stories and novels about art and crime as Curators of Crime.
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