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As much as I would've loved to have had the "Pearl Necklace" loosed from it's moorings & at least some semblance of a skeleton crew aboard, fate did not have that in store for us this summer. Your lordship's dealings among the din & rash of society has had me securing resources for the next journey. The "Necklace" isn't a whaler, a freighter, passenger or a war-ship. She's a salvage vessel & the tooling more often than not must be custom engineered & manufactured. Moreover, the crew to run her is equally as specialized.
Rest assured, I'm still on the hunt for a crew. Our mission is simple, if not a bit dangerous. But we'll get there. The charts call to us. The sails call to us. And above all else, the sea beckons us with relentless anticipation.
Notre carte médiévale
I took time to visit Indianapolis's only Practice/Recording/Performance space vendor called "Playground Studios" ( http://www.playgroundindy.com ). Their fee structure, campus offerings & support staff are a tremendous value and will be where the majority of our practice sessions or auditions are hosted. They're located in the historic Irvington area of Indianapolis's East side.
5529 Bonna Ave
Indianapolis, IN 46219
One of the three indoor venues available at Playground studios.
Your lordship has been & will continue to visit open stage events in & around Metropolitan area Indianapolis to fill the following openings:
Lead vocalist - who's the Captain of the Pearl Necklace.
Drummer - who's also the Blacksmith aboard ship.
Bass Guitarist/vocalist - who's the "Cabin girl" aboard ship. (though she'll have MANY more roles as you'll later hear.)
Rhythm/Lead Guitarist - who serves as 1st Mate & Quartermaster aboard ship.
The full details are under the "Employment" tab of this page. I'll also be contacting local "Thespian Societies" across Indy & surrounding areas to find actors/actresses willing to perform scenes for the show (before each set). Once our skeleton crew is filled out the Pearl Necklace will finally be sea bound & the story will continue. There is no purgatory more devastating for a mariner than being dry docked. May fate smile upon us & send the down trodden, weather worn & disenchanted our way.
My dear lady of the sea... Long have I walked the beaches to behold your beauty, to smell your salty fragrance, and feel the warm caress of your breeze upon my weatherbeaten face. How many moons must pass before my feet are given motion, my hands grasp the rudder & my back relishes the burn of a freshly sheeted sail. Let my heart take wing. Bring me a crew so I can return to you, free & untethered. ~ le Marquis.
And so it was that his lordship left instructions with his caretaker & scullery maid "Keep the Manor as though I were here but otherwise predisposed. No one is to know I've gone abroad, lest some prying eye mischief unfold unabated. Bring in a decoy if you must, but keep it quiet." With nothing more than a pair of horses, a sell-sword security detail & an appreciable advance of jewels & silver coin, he left for the sketchy districts of several major cities. His sole purpose was to find a mature, self made brothel madame who'd made an admirable fortune plying her trade but had grown weary of the business. For even in those days, the cities bred unsavory gentlemen who's predilections delved into such lascivious things as shit eating, necrophylia, or brutality far exceeding the imagination of Rome's Gladiator Collesium. And the brothel had to cater to their fancies, lest they lose business or anonymity. His hopes were that he could sway her into a mariner's life & use her mangerial skills at sea. Albeit a different business model altogether.
First was Amsterdam. Monsieur relaxed the first few days & savored the beer, cuisine, local folk & above all the gentle flicker of the whale oil lamps outside the cafes. But as he began inquiring about the local madames, he was gravely disappointed to learn that there was no central venue for such affinities. A whore house was to be found on almost every block, save for those abreast of a school or church. And the proprietors more often than not were men savvy enough to employ a charming hostess instead of an expensive brothel keep. It took nigh unto a month of searching in vain before his majesty gave up on Amsterdam.
Next was Dublin, Ireland. His lordship heard news within a week of them making port of a brothel in town, but was sternly warned by the harbor master "Don't be settin foot near those doors, lad. Not if you've got more sense than the stones be thrown at ye." Apothecaries in Dublin were few & far between, and as a result diseases among the poor were devastatingly abundant. But there were still those hardy folk driven by a waterskin full of Irish whiskey, brazen enough to risk contagion & sow their oats. It was on such an unfortunate evening that the Marquis & his hired hand paid a visit to the brothel keep. She was a haggard old crone. Skittish & unsettling in her paranoid hypervigilance against outsiders. His lordship hardly began his introduction when a boisterous fight broke out upstairs. The madame scuttled from behind her desk with a pistol in hand & rapped loudly on the door of the next room. A short, squat fellow with broad shoulders & a face akin to a pot of dumplings shot out & up the stairs with a knotted billy club. Within seconds, hollering & screaming could be heard from every corner of the upstairs. And before long, the clothed & unclothed tumult made its way into the lobby. Men were beating one another with a fervor not seen since the Viking days. If there were another way out of the brothel, madame was not of a mind to escort them. They were forced to have to retreat through the front door on their own. But before either man could make the dash, a bloodied & frenzied brute came careening at the bodyguard. He was about to draw his dirk to fend him off when the Marquis warned "NO!!! You kill one & the whole clan will be upon us!" So the bodyguard set about smashing the bloke about the face with his gauntlets. His blows simply glanced off the angry man's jaws until he was picked up off the floor & thrown into the wall above the fireplace mantlepiece. The brute then ran to his wrecked body & started stomping him about the ribcage. The Marquis grabbed a spindled chair & bashed it into the back of the brute's head in a sideways swiping motion. It had the effect of disrupting the attack on his bodyguard, but as soon as the brute gained his bearings he set eyes on the Marquis & threw him into the hollow beneath the stairs along with the broken chair remnants. Everything went black after that. His majesty woke the next day in the harbormaster's house, bandaged up & eyesight a good deal blurred. Next to him lay his bodyguard, bloodied & doning a huge dressing about his upper torso. The harbormaster spoke from the nearby dinner table "Can't say I didn't warn ye. Whatever your business at the druthlann, you won't be talking to anyone until the Constaple has had his piece first. I daresay he might want a sit-down with ye as well. Three men died last night afore the commotion was over. Your man there got himself more than a few broken ribs, but thank the gods he doesn't look as though his lungs or guts were pierced. Either way, he couldn't guard a turtle now. Ye'd best go back home." The Marquis wearily sat up & told the Harbor Master "I'll be leaving you a handful of pounds sterling to tell the constaple we were simply here to negotiate a purchase agreement for a shipment of Loire Valley red. Not cross Claymores with your countrymen. My man bore no pistol, nor does he wield a mace in the commission of his duties. And I a man of position & wouldn't dream of lifting a weapon. Your culprit walks amongst you, if he isn't dead already." His lordship made his way back to the boarding house where they made port, returned to pay the Harbor Master & then proceeded to book passage back to France before any further inquiries bubbled up. He wasn't about to bring light to the real reason they were there, as I'm sure more than one drunken Irishman would have issue with their brothel closing up shop.
Once home he paid his security detail a handsome sum to compensate for bodily injury, hazardous duty and a friendly non-disclosure agreement. He asked his caretaker to check in on them from time to time & ensure he mended well. Next on his itenerary was Stuttgart, Germany. The Marquis had traveled through a bit of southern France as a child, but seldom ever went further west than Zurich. He underestimated how arduous a journey it was, and how sparsely populated the area. The city had it's share of medieval castles, a noble house or two of marginal familiarity, and plenty of fine craftsmen. But it wasn't the debased, sketchy underbelly Paris's shadier districts were. Wholesome by most accounts. He was somehow able to gain audience with a few interested candidates, but it was clear they only agreed out of passing fancy, the tip & a free dinner. And none were what you'd call famous or keenly accustomed to large scale brothel management. Totally dejected at this point, his lordship made the long & arduous trek to the coast in Calais, France. Then booked passage to Great Britain. After a long carriage ride from the coast to London, he took up short term residence at a flat in Brixton. Long journeys with little semblance of hope can wear down even the most accomplished traveler, and where you wind up is a state of mind know as "the Doldrums". Despair & disappointment pulled him into a cyclic procession of drinking himself into a stupor & getting tossed out into the street with the dish water and other vagrants. He became a blur of semi-conscious babbling, soiling oneself & abandoning all regard for the putrid, atrocious condition he was in. It wasn't until late summer that his caretaker showed up at his flat to bring him home. No word had come to the Manor in almost a year, and his attention was needed to address some local concerns. His lordship had spent so much on his travels abroad that the coffers were uncomfortably below the point of concern. His ship had been tied up for more than 4 years, and berthing fees were growing exorbitant. An empty ship bears no payload, nor profits. And this ship must have a captain! Not his majesty, but a real captain. Wherever she may be.
That winter, his majesty bid his maids to barre any visitors until he returns. And then brought his caretaker with him to Paris. The caretaker having served in many royal houses before his tenure with the Marquis was adamantly opposed to participating in such an unscrupulous affair. The Marquis rationalized with him "Listen to me... when have my ideas ever steered us wrong? Oui, I often fall short in the delivery when the dream becomes reality & self-doubt poisons the well. Left to my own devices, they will often fail. But with a friend at my side to push me past the doldrums, I deliver like a battle hardened warrior. The momentum is enough to bolster my courage. Do not look upon me as another over-privileged employer who made his fortune atop the backs of the poor. See me as a troubled friend who wishes to enrich the lives of all in his house with clever business endeavors. I am a lord of nothing by myself." The caretaker shook his head & strolled around the parlor floor for a few moments. Then stood up straight with his jaw set "Alright then. But it's going to take more than a purse of silver & jewels to compensate me for the shame I'll suffer compromising my values. I'm a righteous, honest man with a family & my own responsibilities. I'll not stand idly by & indulge your sinking into taudry depravity. I for one do not see the logic in employing a whore as your general manager. Surely there are better options." His lordship smiled "My friend... you've clearly never had candid conversation with a whore, nor a madame. Or you'd know there's no harder working, non-judgemental, business focused and charismatic entrepreneur in the realm. I've had the slave driving, whip wielding disciplinarian & wound up being mutinied upon. And then a captain who tried to be best friends to his crew turned the campaign into a holiday retreat for dandies. Everything about her business acumen makes her a perfect fit for Captain, you mark my words. We're not going to fuck her, we're putting her skills to work in a more worthwhile profession. Just trust me..."
And on the following Monday morning his lordship's carriage rolled up to the caretaker's front door. The man's wife & children still had wet cheeks & smokey eyes from crying, but they chinned up & did their best to supress their grief as the man of the house departed. With each passing day, each arm of mountain & every open meadow put countless miles between them and home. And then slowly, like a burning ember caught in the curtain of night, the lamplight of Paris began spreading wide before them. The caretaker's heart hung heavy in his chest as he watched the denizens milling about in the midnight air. The Marquis told him in a feint attempt to cheer him up "Toil not, my friend. We'll be staying on the more comely side of Paris. No back alley flats this time, and our lodging didn't cost a king's ransom." The two men spent the better part of a month attending cottillions, frequenting theatre playhouses or the burlesque shows, sniffing out any trace of a brothel. An absinthe peddler told them of a finely dressed woman who would visit the local orphanage once every couple of months & leave a with child of 12 or so in hand. She was a gifted procuress for an immensely successful brothel, and we'd have to catch her unawares. They were able to set up surveillance by purchasing the cooperation of a few beggars. And not a moment too soon, as the woman was once again leaving with a spirited little thing of maybe 14. Her clothes were poor, stained & beyond mend. But she had pretty, curly red hair & green eyes. The Marquis & his caretaker quickly snatched them both from the alley the procuress was escaping to & into the storehouse of a nearby boulangerie. The procuress was furious & panicked at the thought of being robbed of her catch, or being killed herself. And the girl was being clutched tenaciously by the caretaker, standing petrified & overwhelmed by what transpired. His lordship calmly told the procuress "I'm not a thief, nor am I a policier. I simply want to know who the brothel keep is at your place of employment. And I'd dearly appreciate an audience with her. Can you arrange it for me?" The procuress reluctantly replied "Only a fool & a dead man would be crazy enough to inconvenience me. But of course. It would do me good to witness a good flogging or two. Who might I ask begs audience?" His lordship smiled "Monsieur Levesque. That's all you need to know." He then loosed his grip on the woman & motioned for her to leave. She quickly grabbed the girl from the caretaker's arms & rushed down the alley into the darkness. The caretaker vehemently protested "Aren't you going to save that girl from her?!?! She was hardly older than my own daughter & you know what awaits her. Damn you!" His majesty solemnly replied "We can't save them all. Had I purchased her & set her free, where would she be next winter? You'll learn the hard way that true charity isn't something you throw money at & move on with your life. You have to go the distance & guide them to self sufficiency. And we don't have the luxury of money or time. If it spares your conscience the better, I let her go. Not you. We need that meeting or this is all for nothing." The following evening the lady emerged from the alley with two ominously large lackeys & a facetious smirk grin on her face "So, are you ready to show a lady a good time?" ... to be continued...
This is hardly more than a glimpse of the story we have to share with you. The Marquis's journey meandered through treacherous waters, falling into self defiling devastation, finding a shining beacon of love for a time, seeking perdition from his misdeeds, and eventually finding some semblance of peace before his death. He didn't do it alone, nor was he the most remarkable soul in the tale. But oh my gunwales is there ever a story... You'll have to come see us to hear it all.