by Candy Rae
CHAPTER 20 (Southern Continent)
Many miles south and over the sea, Gerry had reached the convict encampment beside Fort without too much trouble. He had decided to hide himself in plain sight amongst the riff-raff that roamed the fringes of the ramshackle buildings near the waterfront. He knew that he would find it difficult to find a way to gain access to Fort itself. It was well guarded and there were too many army personnel about; the regular regiments all knew each other well. Gerry knew that, perhaps now that the campaign against the north was about to begin, there might be more of a chance.
He did manage to get in touch with Carla Pederson, Johannes Pederson’s daughter, not long after his arrival. Cocteau guarded the girl night and day; Gerry only managed to speak to her the once. The girl appeared reasonably content as Cocteau’s woman and largely indifferent to Gerry’s offer of help to escape. In a hurried conversation she informed her would-be rescuer that she did not want to leave, but thank you very much.
Henri Cocteau was kind to her in his own way and she much preferred to remain where she was rather than to try and reach the coast through Larg infested territory. She promised to keep Gerry’s existence in the encampment a secret but offered nothing more. She did not know where her mother Ulla was and was far too scared to try and find out.
Carla did give Gerry the added piece of information that General Murdoch had claimed Anne Howard and the children and that they lived with the General in his quarters. Armed with this information, Gerry bided his time, knowing that eventually his chance would come. As for Martine, Jenny’s mother, and her little brother Gavin he could glean no information at all.
Not long after his arrival Murdoch had stripped the area of men able to fight, conscripting those hale enough and who did not volunteer. Gerry watched Murdoch and his army leave for the coast with much satisfaction. After some more weeks scavenging at the waterfront Gerry found out that the man in charge of the animal corrals was suffering from the resultant chronic staff shortage. He decided to see if he could find some work there. He was sick of scrounging for food and shelter among the ne’er-do-wells.
When he presented himself to the overseer, the man looked Gerry up and down and hired him on the spot. There were not that many able-bodied men under fifty capable of a full day’s work left in the south. The man wondered fleetingly how Gerry had managed to escape the draft but decided not to ask. One didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Gerry’s appearance helped. He was careful to keep himself looking scruffy and dirty. This had been difficult for him as he was a fastidious soul by nature. When the army press gangs had scoured the waterfront looking for recruits, he had dirtied himself even more and affected a slight, but distinct limp. Lined up with the rest of the other unfortunates for Duchesne to make his selection, he had hunched himself over and tried to look much older than he was. Duchesne’s eyes had passed over him without a second glance.
“Any experience working with cows and sheep?” the overseer asked.
“A bit sir,” Gerry mumbled. “Afore I got caught worked wif horses.”
“Well there are no horses here. I did hear that they ran away and the Larg got them.”
Gerry kept his face impassive.
“Can I work for ye then, sir?” he asked.
“Yes, yes,” said the man. “Start tomorrow first thing and get yourself cleaned up. You smell disgusting. I’ll find some decent clothes for you.”
Gerry slouched away, content.
As the days passed in the corrals, he wondered how Jessica and Jenny were getting along, tending his beloved mares in the north. The chestnut would have foaled by now; he wondered what the little colt was like. His thoughts drifted to Jessica more than Jenny although Gerry told himself it was because he had been close to her father. To Gerry, Jessica was still a child, but she had a wise head on her shoulders and seemed much older than her years. He was confused about his feelings for Peter Howard’s daughter. Perhaps it was as well that he was far away from her presence. At least the two Jays were safe. He himself was well fed and no longer needed to associate with the unfortunates with no occupation or the means to get one down in the encampment.
Only one of the regular regiments had remained in the south. Colonel Brentwood was in charge of Fort and the surrounding area. He was to guard the women and ensure that law and order prevailed. Gerry thought it somewhat ironic that Brentwood, an ex-convict, was responsible for upholding the law but, he reasoned, his task would not be too difficult, as most of the able-bodied from the encampment had been drafted.
Anne Howard had heard of the army’s imminent departure with a great deal of relief. It meant that she would have some months respite from Elliot Murdoch’s attentions. On the occasions when she was presented to the other colonels and senior tradesmen from the encampment, he was scrupulously polite but the man took great delight in humiliating her in private. She learned how to manage to survive as his woman and Murdoch had no idea of her true feelings. He often bragged to his colonels of how much Anne loved him.
Murdoch was pleased with his choice of Anne. Some weeks previously Anne had felt the familiar tightening of her breasts that indicated that she was pregnant. She had mixed feelings about bearing Murdoch’s child. The start of her three previous pregnancies had been filled with pleasurable excitement and she and her husband had celebrated mightily. Anne had enjoyed these pregnancies; she knew she did not feel the same about her fourth. It was not the child’s fault that its father bore the ultimate responsibility of murdering his mother’s husband. Perhaps she would feel differently as the pregnancy progressed as she felt the new life growing within her.
The only good thing about it was that Murdoch’s behaviour towards Anne and the children had changed the instant he had been told he was to become a father. A pleased smile on his face, he became more benign towards her. He even had some kind words for Cherry and Joseph. Life became bearable, if still predominantly unpleasant. She mourned for Peter and would never, for as long as she lived, forget the dreadful night when Colonel Brentwood had returned with his young female prizes and regaled his fellow colonels with his tale of the skirmish at the water’s edge when Peter had died.
Gone were the days when women actually joined their men when there were guests. Anne, serving Murdoch’s guests with food and drink, had managed to keep her face impassive as Brentwood described what had happened to the men in the clearing, in graphic detail. When he reached the part of his tale describing his order to slit the men’s throats she had bitten back a sob and fled from the room. It would have been disastrous for Murdoch to realise that the away-team had met the twelve fugitives from Fort and had not been part of the original escaping party. As far as Anne knew, they were not aware of, nor did they care about, the disappearance of the Electra’s power-core. To Anne’s unbounded relief, Jessica had not been amongst those who had returned. In secret, Brentwood’s blonde told her of the three who had not been present when Brentwood had found them. Anne knew that Gerry would have done his very utmost to get Jessica and Jenny to safety. Knowing of the existence of the settlers in the north, she hoped that they had made it that far. Anne had not lost hope.
Gerry managed without too much difficulty to get himself assigned to the unpopular and onerous task of climbing the hill with the fresh meat for Fort’s kitchen a few days after starting with the animals.
As he entered Fort carrying his burden, he looked around, curious to see what changes Murdoch had made. These were few. He heard children’s voices and turned. The children were in the middle of their daily lessons and to Gerry’s eyes appeared well fed and comparatively happy. His eyes opened wide when he recognised the woman who was teaching them. It was Anne Howard herself. He stumbled and almost lost his load of meat. One of the guards, interpreting the stumble for mere clumsiness, took a kick at him and uttered a curse. Anne looked up from the book she was reading from to see what the commotion was about.
She recognised Gerry instantly. He could see that, although she made n
o visible sign beyond opening startled green eyes. He could do nothing to make immediate contact and merely followed the rest of the meat bearers towards the kitchen. There, they were given something to eat and drink by the kindly head cook before being ordered back down the hill.
Eyes downcast in the manner suitable for a southern woman, Anne Howard watched him leave and resolved to find a way to talk to him. But how? It might be possible. With Murdoch away the restrictions that governed her life had relaxed.
Inspiration came to her as she looked at some of the older children.
“How would you like it if I asked Colonel Brentwood if some of us could visit the animal corrals?” she asked in a bright voice. “I think it would be good for you educationally, don’t you?”
The children smiled, much enamoured at the idea of a trip outside the walls of Fort. It did not often happen.
“I will ask him later today,” Anne promised.
Anne’s smile was much brighter than theirs. Perhaps there was a way out after all.
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