The Constable's Tale: A Novel of Colonial America

by Donald Smith

  “I saw him at the races yesterday,” said Harry. “He very kindly offered to look at this for me.” Producing the brooch. “I’m hoping he can give me an opinion as to its origins.”

  He watched her face closely for any sign of recognition but saw none. With a flourish of compliments on Harry’s good taste in possessing an object of such high quality, she begged his leave to fetch the merchant.

  Bannerman was in better humor. “This is a rather fine piece,” he said, holding it under his eyepiece. “An exceptional example of cloisonné. The blue of the lapis lazuli inlays beautifully complement the gold, which appears to be of the highest quality. May I ask how you happened to come by this? Did you say something about a murder?”

  “It fell into my hands unexpectedly.” Harry saw no advantage in going into any more detail. Either Bannerman had forgotten about what Harry had said about a murder, or had decided to ignore it.

  “Do you wish to sell it? I’m sure I could make you an attractive price.” Peering again through his glass, this time with the eye of a businessman, he added, “Of course, I would need to take something off for these little signs of wear.”

  “Thank you, but I am only the person who found it. Is it possible it passed through your hands?”

  “I am afraid I have never seen this piece. I surely would recall if I had.”

  Harry absorbed this disappointment, then said, “Can you make any guesses as to what these markings on the back side might mean?”

  “They are a Masonic code, of course. I myself have not yet attained membership here in the Williamsburg lodge, though I have been proposed, and so I could not begin to decipher it for you. Nor would I were I a member, since I would then be sworn to secrecy.”

  “Could you say how a person might have come to own it? Who the owner might have got it from?”

  “I could make a good guess. Jacob Merkly is our foremost dealer in Masonic finery in this country. A piece of this quality almost certainly was made in England for the American trade and of equal near certainty it would have passed through the House of Merkly.”

  “And where might I find this place?”

  Bannerman looked at Harry with the stunned expression of someone who just realized he was talking to an ignoramus.

  “Why, on High Street, of course. Philadelphia.”

  *

  “I know the place well,” said Noah. They were lounging on a bench on the green in front of the capitol, the schoolmaster gnawing an apple. “Philadelphia is really not that far from here. The postal roads are much better than the ones we traveled from New Bern. I would say five days of purposeful riding, assuming no detours or stopovers. Fewer ferry crossings, too.”

  “I’m afraid I would run out of money,” said Harry, putting into words what he had already been wrestling with. “Besides, I need to get back home. Toby needs me.”

  “From what I’ve seen of Martin, I am sure he is capable of running your plantation in your absence. And Toby seems very resourceful herself.”

  The two thoughts, Martin and Toby, collided in Harry’s imagination. He wondered if there was any other reason he should make for home. Martin was a handsome man, his darkness adding an exotic touch to his regular features. When he was in the company of ladies, Harry had noticed, they were always taking an interest in their own appearance, touching at their faces and hair. Rumors had reached his ears about Martin’s leisure activities when errands kept him in town by himself overnight.

  “I suppose it depends on the importance you attach to finding the owner of this badge,” said Noah.

  “The money question trumps all. I just can’t be sure I have enough to continue.”

  “I’ll give you what you need.”

  Harry smiled. “The itinerant schoolmaster, living in a barn, offers the plantation owner a few pounds to cover his expenses. That’s a good one.”

  “I am far from penniless.” Noah hesitated, as if deciding whether to continue. “The truth is, I have a great deal of money. Some of it is in the form of paper currency hidden in my saddlebag. The rest is coinage and metal bar held in trust by my solicitor in Philadelphia. It was an inheritance from my grandfather. He didn’t trust my father to conserve enough to pass along to his favorite grandson. And for good reason. My father, when he was young, spent all his money on academic pursuits that held no promise of remuneration. Grandfather had grown wealthy in the shipping and warehousing businesses and considered my father’s interests in the natural world trivial and wasteful.”

  “I can’t accept such a large amount of money.”

  “‘Large’ is a matter of comparison. You have been a good friend to me, Harry, with no prospect of compensation. I would consider it an honor to assist in bringing your killer to justice.”

  “I will agree only on condition it be treated as a loan. Which I may not be able to repay for a time. And maybe not in cash.”

  “As you wish.”

  “I guess you would like to go and see your family in Philadelphia.”

  “I won’t be going with you. I’m afraid my father and I are not the best of friends. In fact, we have stopped speaking to each other.”

  “And how did that come about?”

  “Let us just say we have fundamental differences about our purposes on Earth. Unfortunately, we are both passionate about our own points of view, and it has led to a fair amount of ugliness. When the time comes for his funeral, I will not go.”

  “That’s a terrible thing, to be so angry with your father.”

  “Believe me, it’s mutual.”

  Harry started to say how much he missed his own father and wished he knew for certain whether he was even alive. But he kept silent lest it sound like lecturing.

  “I appreciate your offer of money,” Harry said. “But I won’t go to Philadelphia without you.”

  Now it was on Noah to be surprised.

  “I enjoy your company,” Harry said, “and I will need help along the way. I value a friendly face for support and advice in these foreign lands. I really don’t think I could do it otherwise.” Stretching the truth a bit to assist his case. But not by far.

  “Surely that is not so. You’ve already proven your ability to navigate Virginia. The rest of our planet, and the people in it, are not much different from what you’ve already seen. And I need to return to North Carolina to resume my teaching.”

  “How urgent could that be? You have no actual position to go back to. If you want me to succeed in finding the killer and rescuing Comet Elijah, you’ll come.”

  Noah took out a fresh apple and wiped it on his sleeve, a look of concentration on his face. Harry accepted his offer of a bite.

  *

  The attack came on their fourth day back on the road.

  They had spent the previous night at a tavern in the city of Annapolis that catered to rough seafarers. A short while after ordering food, a man sat down at their table without asking. He was somewhat more fashionably dressed than the other customers but had a thuggish face and loud manner. His nose in particular had an uneven look to it. Harry introduced himself and Noah.

  “You can call me Mister Rafferty,” the man replied, looking around as if to find someone to take his order. Then, turning to Harry again, “I’ve not seen your face before. What’s your hailing port?”

  “North Carolina.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I once had the misfortune of conducting a bit of business in North Carolina.”

  “And what was the exact nature of your misfortune?” asked Noah in a lighthearted vein.

  “Where to begin? The climate is disgusting. Your reeking pines, your bleak barrens, your fetid swamps. Disease is everywhere. Lodgings are sparse and of low quality. If I may speak honestly, I preferred a blanket on the ground over your vermin-ridden dwellings. I believe it is actually possible to poison yourself just by breathing the air.”

  “Well, you are in fine company with your opinions,” said Harry. He threw Noah an amused look, wondering if this was some
sort of initiation Marylanders subjected strangers to. Or if the man was simply feeble of mind. “Our dear governor has done nothing but whine ever since he got there.”

  “But the worst are the people,” Rafferty continued. “They are the vilest race of villains I have yet to see upon the earth. No honor, no religion, no morality among them. They are a perfect hotchpotch of bankrupts, pirates, and libertines. Their lack of good breeding is evident from their swinish nature, which I expect comes from their unreasonable appetite for pig flesh. Pork makes for hoggishness and inclines them to the yaws. They grunt rather than speak. And the women.” Rafferty paused as if searching for words adequate to sum up his disdain. “They are ugly, ignorant, and whorish, the lot of them. One of the local tarts in New Bern tried to bed me, but I couldn’t bear her breath. It smelled of turpentine.”

  Seemingly finished, Rafferty fixed Harry with a bellicose stare.

  Under other circumstances Harry would have been upon the man by now. He was willing to bear most any slander of his place of birth, but he could not tolerate anyone insulting North Carolina women, who, by definition, included his mother.

  He already had taken a measure of Rafferty’s potential for self-defense. Though stoutly built, and with evidence of past combat on his face, he seemed a bit on the elderly side. Forty-five or fifty at least. Harry judged that a swift attack, a straight-on jab with rigid fingertips to the throat, followed by a quick volley of lefts and rights to the gut, or a simple roundhouse to the jaw if Rafferty refused to stand and offer his belly, should put him on the floor with the least effort. But Harry was tired from the day on the road and had not yet begun to feel the liberating properties of the ale they had been sipping. It also played on his mind that he did not want the slightest hint of misconduct on his part making its way back home. Getting into a brawl in a Maryland tavern might call for more explanation than the satisfaction of maiming the brute was worth.

  The barmaid provided a distraction by delivering their supper. Harry was relieved to remember he had not asked for pork. Rafferty waved away her offer of food.

  Making plain they were finished talking, Harry and Noah began to eat in silence. Rafferty made some mutterings that Harry could not catch, then got to his feet and left the establishment.

  After a few moments Noah said, “What did he say about the women?”

  “Ugly, ignorant, and whorish, if I recall rightly.”

  “I have to disagree. I haven’t found them all that ugly.”

  Harry shook his fork in Noah’s face and resumed eating.

  *

  The next morning they boarded a boat to cross the Chesapeake Bay. The ferryman was about to cast off when Rafferty rode up in the company of two others. They looked like younger, more physically adept versions of their previous night’s companion.

  “I believe I spotted that pair last night,” Noah said in a low voice. “They were seated at the table next to us and followed our fond companion out the door.”

  The two parties stayed at opposite ends of the vessel, ignoring each other. Harry fed Annie chunks of carrots to help keep her mind off the seagoing experience.

  Upon landing, Rafferty and his friends took to their horses and rode off at a fast pace. To Harry’s relief, they took a road that headed in a roughly southerly direction, not the postal road that went east and ultimately north toward Philadelphia.

  “This makes me feel right at home,” said Harry as they passed through another pine forest. “We have loblollies like these on our property, though most of what we have is longleaf.”

  “Pinus taeda,” Noah said. “It’s the Latin name that’s been given the loblolly pine by our great classifier, Carl Linnaeus. The needles are somewhat shorter than those of the longleaf. I’ve seen many of the latter in North Carolina and Virginia, but I would guess we are now passing through their northernmost extent. They are rare in Pennsylvania.”

  “Is this something every educated person knows? Or just the ones in Philadelphia?”

  “My father drilled into me the new names for plants and animals until I could repeat them in my sleep. I am sufficiently infused that I think I will never be free of these Latin words or the smell of small corpses drying out in trunk rooms.”

  “I can see value in knowing what plants can be eaten. Comet Elijah taught me about those.”

  “I confess I am glad to know something of the natural world. But modus omnibus in rebus. Moderation in everything. My father cares only for natural science. He is obsessed with the subject to the point that he feels nothing for the sufferings of ordinary specimens of mankind.”

  “The well-to-do have better things to think on than the plight of the lower orders,” Harry said. He was tempted to add “like me” but thought it would sound too awkward.

  “My faith requires concern for human sufferings. We are Quakers going back three generations. I saw a good deal of misery while growing up in Philadelphia, and I resolved to spend my life doing what I could to alleviate it. But by the time I’d finished college I had concluded that the best way was not to hand around alms to beggars but to teach people to read, write, and do computations. In the country we are fortunate to have been born in, any man can rise above his origins. Unlike the state of things in Europe. Education is the key to doing this.”

  “Well, in the case of the Campbells, they weren’t rich, but I wouldn’t say they were living in misery, either.”

  “I came to North Carolina in the first place because it is reputed to have the fewest people in all the Atlantic colonies who can read.” Noah turned in his saddle and made a respectful bow. “I mean no offense, but that seems to be the fact. We’ve spoken of this before. I hope to live long enough to see a basic education free to all in America. But one must start someplace.”

  Harry said, “I take no offense. What little education I have, my mother paid dearly for.”

  “Also, I’d taken a special interest in Andrew and his peculiar state of mind. I could barely keep his attention long enough to teach him anything at all. I was studying him, looking for some pattern to his behavior that might suggest stratagems of treatment, both for his sake and that of other children who suffer the same curse. Over the past several weeks, I’d come to believe I was making progress. Patience, and rewarding them when they do well, are two of the keys to overcoming the scourge of an unsettled mind, I’ve come to believe. Who knows what cosmic purpose our coming-together might have served, had he lived.”

  “Maybe you’re going too hard on your father. Maybe he is one of those in this world who are making discoveries that you will one day be teaching to new generations.”

  “Why, Harry, I do believe you’ve picked up Comet Elijah’s trick of wandering into people’s minds. I confess I’ve recently begun having the same thoughts. Especially now that it appears he and I may meet again sooner than I’d expected. Maybe we can find some common ground after the ugliness that’s passed between us.”

  The midmorning sky had been darkening in the west as they talked, indicating an approaching thunderstorm. Now a breeze gathered. Harry was peering around for possible shelter when three men rode out of the forest not more than twenty yards ahead. It was Rafferty and his two companions, each with a pistol in hand. They must have somehow circled and gotten ahead of them.

  Harry brought Annie up short. Barely taking time to rein in their own horses, the Rafferty crew fired almost in unison. Harry felt more than heard a ball whiz past his left shoulder. Noah rocked backward in his saddle. His horse reared and he fell off.

  Their assailants tossed their pistols aside and reached for fresh ones. But before they could shoot again, Harry had one of his own out and cocked. Aiming toward the center of Rafferty’s breast, he pulled the trigger. At that range he reckoned his chances of success were about even. Rafferty reeled back, nearly but not completely falling off his mount.

  Two more balls twittered past Harry. Blinded now by billows of gunsmoke, he grabbed his other pistol and fired in the direction he had last
seen Rafferty’s two companions. An accusing cry let him know he had hit flesh.

  He slung the second pistol aside and pulled the tomahawk from his belt. Spurring Annie forward into the cloud of smoke, which the breeze was turning back on the attackers, he collided nearly head-on with the unwounded man. This one was now holding a sword. But before he could make use of it, Harry sank the ax into his forehead. He wrenched it free and watched as the man toppled over, eyes crossed like a simpleton.

  Through the smoke Harry could see Rafferty still upright on his horse but sagging, his face turning the color of ash bark. Blood spurted from a chest wound: long, arcing geysers erupting at the steady pace of a heartbeat. He would not last much longer.

  Clutching his shoulder, the third man took a last look at the chaos, his expression a blend of surprise and pain, and galloped back into the woods.

  Noah was lying on his back on the ground, a hole in his chest. Pink froth forming around his nose and mouth. He peered up at Harry with a calm gaze, his large, deep-set eyes unfocused, as if under water. He made to speak but the effort brought on a choking spasm. After that he seemed content to just lie quiet. His eyes wandered, drifting here and there, and finally came back to rest on Harry as if in silent communication, sharing a mystery. He took another shallow, liquid breath. His lips moved as he exhaled. Harry bent closer to hear what he might say. The last thoughts of a man who knew he was dying.

  The words were barely audible yet unmistakable. “The children,” he said, and then he breathed no more.

  Harry spent a long time knelt over the body, grief and disbelief cycling through his mind. Trying to accept that the friendly, gentle spirit that lived behind those intelligent eyes had stolen away. He realized more completely than before how he had been liking Noah’s company and looking forward to learning more from the best-educated, and possibly smartest, person he was sure he had ever known. He thought about Noah’s plans for a school for orphans, now never to come to pass. How Noah Burke might have explained what cosmic purpose could have been served by his own death right here, right now, on the swelling tide of his life.