Red Beard escaped, after that.

The rest of us kept fighting -- ten more guards, these from the back entrance. But he slipped away.

See he, knew what he needed to find, and he knew where it should be. Across from The Great Hall, the door to the Queen's room glistened, alight with tempting promise.

He dragged himself away from the fight, not looking back. No one noticed the door closing behind him, not even I. From the ground, I jabbed at kneecaps and ankles, dodging the falling bodies of the queen's guards. I had no time to be watching Moses' every move.

Red Beard crossed the hall, tracking blood with his shoes. When he noticed this, he began to stomp, digging his feet further into the carpet to make deeper footprints. Aye, he was always a spiteful lad.

The red matched his beard. He reached out a calloused palm, grasping the doorknob in his hand.

Part of him felt skeptical, warning him not to get his hopes up. The other part of him insisted that it could feel it, could feel the power of his prize emanating from within The Queen's chamber.

The Queen, The Queen. What would we do without her? Who would we rebel against without a pinch-faced tyrant to despise?

Red Beard had heard from several sources that the Queen had sent out several search parties over the past years to find The Holy Grail. Then, six months ago? The periodic searches stopped. Which, to Moses, could only mean she had found it.

I saw flaws in his logic, but who dared to ruin such a rare good mood? For months, Red Beard had been sulking around the ship, not the vaguest idea on what to do next. When he got this hunch, he came alive again.

Now, he would find out: had this all been for naught?

He listened to the noises of the fight for a second, knuckles white around the doorknob. Then, without another hesitation, shoved the door open.

The Queen, in all her regal glory, slept on.

I've always found this curious about royalty, this all-encompassing entitlement they seem to have. Everything is theirs, and they will have whatever they want. If The Queen sleeps, she is so entitled to her sleep that she won't wake until she sees it fit.

Red Beard closed the door behind him, a grin spreading over his face. Oh, this would be easy. No Queen assassination necessary. None of this knocking-out-the-nobles nonsense. No, she'd simply sleep through the theft, and he would leave victorious.

The room unfolded around him, gloriously blue. Blue velvet curtains, blue sheets, cerulean sleep mask. Chandelier hung with sapphires, letters on the desk scrawled in blue ink. Red Beard growled to himself, wondering if she'd painted the grail blue too, so it'd blend in. He'd kill her.

See, The Queen and Red Beard did have a bit of history.

English pirates weren't exactly a commanding force. The British navy had much more power. Yet, they couldn't compete with us Caribbean pirates. Poor England, we were picking off their navy. Plus, their economy felt the hit, too. Trade began to dwindle, as incoming ships could be easily overtaken by pirates.

Like we gave a crap.

Anyway, The Queen didn't like Red Beard too much, and she'd like him even less after this.

The man looked at her excessive trove of possessions, lost as to where he should begin. After a few seconds of staring, he began to pilfer through the chest at the foot of her bed. Looked like a treasure chest. Who wouldn't hide treasure there?

The Queen, evidently. He found many books, a few gold-threaded blankets and a silver trimmed tea set, but no chalice. He grumbled to himself and moved on.

Meanwhile, the lot of us stood (well, I laid in a crumpled ball on the floor) over a heap of dead and unconscious bodies, cheering and clinking swords. Howie and Israel loaded another guard onto their shoulders, hopping up on the table to hang him up. Dole and Eddie followed suit. They picked the conscious ones to join their naked friend.

I tried to get their attention. There were bound to be more guards coming, with all the commotion we'd caused. But when has anyone ever listened to me?

A forest of blades raised into the air, a collective cheer erupting as Dole began to spin the hung-up men in circles on the chandelier.

"Faster! Faster!" Henry said in a high, mocking voice.

Edward guffawed. "Aha, ye hear, matey? Th' bastard's wantin' t' go faster!"

So Dole and Edward grabbed men on opposite sides of the chandelier, counted off, and pushed.

The moment the first set of undergarments ripped, the side doors of the great hall burst open.

The Captain heard this happen, but didn't leave The Queen's room. He'd been through her sock drawer, the top shelf of her closet, and three out of five desk drawers. All he'd come up with was lots of perfume and a sack of coins, which he pocketed.

He released a string of swears, listening to his men laugh and cheer. He wondered what was happening in there.

Well, eight more guards had appeared. Unfortunately, they never learned that excited, bloodthirsty pirates can be more dangerous than an infinite supply of well trained soldiers.

We fit three more on the chandelier, which now required four men to spin.

One got away. The other six joined the heap.

Meanwhile, Red Beard gave a sigh of disappointment. He would have to accept it: The Queen did not have his treasure. He felt foolish, now. Even if she had the Holy Grail, why would she keep it unguarded in her bedroom? And if she'd found the long-sought chalice, why would she keep it to herself? The Queen wasn't one for secrecy. Red Beard knew that she would have boasted her guts out.

Of course, the rest of us had practically forgotten about the Holy Grail by now. In fact, we were so caught up in our fun that we didn't see the next attackers until they were upon us.