In the Tudor Court Collection. Amanda McCabe

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      Lorenzo explored the tender spot at the back of his head carefully. He had been unconscious for some hours after he was captured, for he had been taken from behind and received a heavy blow to the back of the head, but he knew immediately that he was in the cabin of the Corsair galley. Why had he not been cast down into the pit with the other captives?

      Did the pirate who had captured him know who he was? It was almost certain that he did—so was he being held for a ransom? Or had Rachid reserved a special fate for him? Yes, of course, that must be so. It was the only reason he had not been chained up with the other prisoners.

      They had been enemies for a long time now and Rachid had not earned his name for nothing. He was called the Feared One because of his barbarity. It was unusual for his men to take prisoners unless they needed more galley slaves or captured someone they could ransom for a large sum of money. As a rule they killed ruthlessly, plundering the captured ships and often sinking them afterwards unless they considered them worth selling.

      Lorenzo’s head was throbbing as he lay considering his likely fate. He could either be sold as a slave, put to the oars, or held for ransom. But Rachid had good cause to hate him and it was probable that he was being kept alive so that he could suffer some form of torture before his death.

      He had been a youth when he had been taken the first time, powerless to fight the ruthless men who had captured him. Finding himself chained to an oar with no memory of his life prior to his captivity, he had survived by instinct—an instinct that had served him well these past years. It would be different this time, for he knew exactly who he was and what had happened to him.

      He knew that he must remain alert, while allowing his captors to think him still suffering from the blow to his head. Only if they believed he was ill and incapable of escaping would they give him the chance to make his break.

      But he would do so when the chance came. He would rather die in the attempt than be a slave—or allow his enemy to humiliate him. The strongest man could break under torture, and he would rather die quickly and cleanly.

      For a moment he thought of Kathryn. If he waited, perhaps Rachid would ransom him and he might be returned to Rome. He might see her again. A part of him wanted to take that chance, to put his faith in God and those he knew would even now be trying to arrange his freedom—but there was another part of him that refused to be sold.

      Somehow he would fight free. If he died in the attempt, then Kathryn would be a widow. She was beautiful and she would be rich, for he had left much of his wealth to her in a will he had made before the war—and she would find someone else to love in time.

      ‘Kathryn, Kathryn, my love…’

      His heart cried out to her as he whispered her name, but even for the sake of his love for her, he could not simply wait for rescue or death. He must try to save himself if he died for it.

      ‘You. Infidel dog!’ A rough voice spoke from the doorway. ‘Do you want food and water?’

      Lorenzo moaned, but made no answer. He sensed the man coming nearer and forced himself to lie still. To attack one man would do no good. He needed to wait for the right time.

      The Corsair muttered something and slopped some water into Lorenzo’s face. He had been waiting for it, because he had seen it done often enough. He muttered and jerked, but did not open his eyes. The man grunted and moved away, closing the cabin door after him.

      Lorenzo ran his fingers over his face, sucking the few drops of moisture he managed to acquire by this method. He was thirsty and hungry too, but he needed to keep up the pretence for as long as he could manage.