The Queen of Swords

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The Queen of Swords Page 25

by R. S. Belcher


  “Have you ever done anything the easy way?” Adu asked. Anne chuckled.

  “Not my nature,” she said. “I blame my shabby upbringing, and my outcast lot.”

  Behind them there was singing and the evening meal and the welcoming fire, the companionship of others who’d shared hardship together. The two of them remained apart, unmoving.

  “Not really for us, is it?” Anne asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” Adu said.

  “You have any children?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “Too many to count.”

  “I just became a mother not so long ago,” Anne said. “I think I ran off on this bad business because, believe it or not, this is easier to me than dealing with all that, dealing with my father, and trying to pretend to know what the hell a mother is supposed to do.”

  “A mother loves,” Adu said. “I have no doubt you have that in you, Anne, in abundance. All the other things come with necessity and time.”

  They stood a while longer. The singing and conversations died down around the fire as most of the camp, save the first watch, settled in for the night.

  “Do you miss your child?” Adu asked.

  “I should,” Anne said. “I mean, I do, but it’s like I think of him at the worst possible moments, right when I’m about to die, or I’m doing something daft. Then the rush comes over me and I don’t have a care anymore and poof, he’s gone.”

  “You’re not afraid of dying,” Adu said. “You’re afraid of living.”

  “Dying is easy,” Anne said. “I’m the worst person in the world to have a kid.”

  “You’re just young,” Adu said. “You’re wiser than most I’ve met your age. You tell the truth, even to yourself, and that is a rare strength.”

  “I don’t feel strong right now,” Anne said. Her eyes were getting damp, and she fucking hated it. She remembered her vow and denied the tears a foothold. “I’m afraid because this little lark is going to end soon, one way or another, and either I’m going to be gone, and my lad will be on his own, stuck with my prat of a father, growing up without a proper ma to help him out with the tough bits, or I’ll succeed and I’ll have to go home and hope I don’t fuck him up worse than if’n I had died.”

  “I sincerely doubt that,” Adu said. “When you put your mind to something, you are quite a formidable force. You will be a good parent to your boy, Anne, and you don’t have to go one step further. There’s wealth here, more than enough to take home with you to your boy. Enough to raise him as you wish, without your father’s interference. You have nothing to prove to anyone, Anne.”

  “Is there a better time for me to go in there?” Anne asked, nodding to the forest as she wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Daytime, night?”

  “No,” Adu said. “They are equally dangerous. You’re not listening to me.”

  “Well, then,” Anne said, “let’s get this over with, right.” She started to walk toward the forest. “If I fail, you get my share of that booty to my son. He’s in the Carolina colony with my father. Give it to my boy when he’s old enough, not my da. I know you can find them, Adu. You found me.”

  “You’re running away again,” Adu said, a little anger creeping into his voice. “Launching yourself into certain death because you’re too scared to face up to your responsibilities.”

  “Responsibilities?” Anne said. “I’m a bloody pirate, a criminal! You’re the one who set this whole thing up, and now you got cold cockles because I’m damned to see it through!” She drew one of her flintlocks and started toward the trees.

  “Wait!” Adu shouted. “None of your weapons will help you against what’s in there.”

  “What?” Anne said, stopping. “Seriously? That’s fucking lovely. I can’t even go down bloody swinging! What the fuck am I supposed to do in there, Adu?” She was shouting now. “Get so fucking in my cups that I taste bad and put the fucking beastie off its fucking food?!”

  There was some commotion from the camp, and Belrose and Nourbese were rushing up to join them, both looking like they had just rolled out of bed. Belrose reeked of strong drink.

  “Shut up and listen for a change,” Adu said. “You have the potential to be so much more than you think you are! The creatures in there are bound by very powerful Bo, strong magic, to Oya’s bidding. They will try to frighten you and then claim you for themselves if you fail. It is part of their compact with Oya.”

  “You two all right?” Nourbese said, slightly out of breath. “We heard shouting. What creatures?”

  “The fucking creatures in the woods!” Anne said, still shouting, and pointing her pistol toward the dark tangled trees. “The fucking lead ball–proof, sword-proof, fucking monsters in the scary fucking wood beside the ominous fucking pyramid!”

  “We thought you two were having a touching emotional moment,” Belrose said. “You know, un interlude d’appel d’offres?” He looked to Nourbese. “You said they were having a touching emotional moment?”

  “Do you know any word beside ‘fuck,’ girl?” Adu said, now shouting as well. “I swear to the Orishas! I was trying to impart some wisdom to you! You can be so maddening! Just go on in there, you can swear the Biloko to death with your incessant jabbering tongue!”

  Belrose shook his head as he addressed Nourbese. “They’re not having a touching emotional moment.”

  “You want some other words besides ‘fuck,’ old man!” Anne said. She let loose such a string of profanities that when she was finished everyone was silent and stunned.

  “Oh,” the ancient man said.

  “Impressive,” Belrose commented. The mercenary was blushing a bit.

  “Wait, Biloko?” Nourbese said. “You said the Biloko are in there? No, no!” She grabbed Anne by the arm, pulling her back, away from the trees. “Bonny, you can’t go in there! You mustn’t!” Something in Nourbese’s pleading tone sobered Anne. When some of the Amazons on watch responded to the outbursts, Nourbese waved them away.

  “What’s a Biloko?” Anne asked, quiet again.

  “The spirits of dead men,” Nourbese said, “evil dead men. It’s an old story my mother told me and my brothers. The Biloko live inside trees. They can swallow a man whole. They hate the living, and they guard their forests very jealously.”

  Anne looked over to Adu. The mystic, calm now, nodded. “They are corrupted ancestral spirits,” he said. “There is nothing alive for you to shoot or stab. I was trying to tell you,” Adu said. “As I said, Anne, you don’t have to go.”

  “You think I’ll die if I go in there, don’t you?” Anne said.

  “No one has ever returned in uncounted centuries,” Adu said. “Treasure hunters, pirates, conquerors and worse. They all now swell the ranks of the Biloko. You have found your gold. Go home, live.”

  “You said they will try to frighten me. What do they want to do, exactly?”

  Adu sighed and shook his head. “They can only lay hands upon you if you do so first. So they will try to frighten you, unnerve you until you stumble, trip. Then they will fall upon you, rip you to pieces like the fiercest panther, and suck your soul out of your remains like a jackal sucking the marrow from a cracked bone. You will become one of them, full of hatred and spite and unending rage.”

  “So all I can do is try not to be scared,” Anne said. She removed the sash she wore as a belt and laid her pistols and her machete on the sandy soil. Her hands were trembling.

  “What are you doing?” Adu said.

  “Trying to peggin’ become more than I think I am,” Anne said. “Besides, if you don’t think I can do this, I have to show you up now, don’t I?” Adu chuckled in spite of himself.

  “I suppose you do,” he said. “Focus on that amulet you’re wearing; it has some power in it, it may help you if your will falters. Remember fear is human, it’s all right. Just don’t let it control you.” Nourbese stepped up beside Anne.

  “What are you doing?” Anne asked.

  “I’m going with you,” Nourbese s
aid. “It is my duty to protect you.”

  “No,” Anne said. “You stay. Take care of our Ahosi. Make sure the families of the dead all get a share of the money.”

  “My mother told me stories. They say all women faint at the mere sight of the Biloko,” Nourbese said. “Please, let me go and help you. You may be many things that I dislike, but you have a good heart, which is rare in this world, and you treat the people around you fairly, no matter what they think of you, no matter their station. You spared my life when I would not have spared yours. You saved my life back in Ife. Let me try to save yours now.” Anne was quiet and Nourbese was almost on the verge of tears. “You without a word to say!” Nourbese sniffed. “That’s remarkable.”

  “Adu will tell King Agaja I insisted on going alone,” Anne said, turning to face the jagged shadow of the forest. “I’m trusting you and him to carry out my wishes for my son. Protect him, and more important, teach him. Tell him about me, that I wasn’t a complete fuck-up.”

  “I’m under no such obligations,” Belrose said, stepping between her and the woods. The Frenchman was smiling. “You are entirely too sober to be making such decisions, mon belle erreur.”

  “I am,” Anne said. She pulled Belrose to her and kissed him deeply, soulfully, her tongue exploring his mouth. The swordsman moaned a little and returned the kiss. Anne pulled away, grinning. She waved to the three of them and then trotted toward the woods.

  “Wait!” Belrose called, touching his lips. He had a strange, almost stunned look on his face. “What was that?”

  “Don’t put too much in it, luv,” Anne called out. “I just wanted a last taste of liqueur on my lips!” She vanished, swallowed by the night.

  “What do we do now?” Belrose asked Adu.

  “The hardest thing to ever do,” the first man said. “We wait.”

  21

  The Emperor (Reversed)

  Charleston, South Carolina

  May 21, 1871

  The judge’s chamber held the afternoon’s heat and sunlight at bay. There was a beautiful, ornate Johann Beha cuckoo clock on the wall near the door. The walls were paneled in dark oak and a thick Turkish rug, in muted shades of gray and green, blanketed the floor. Books on shelves were everywhere, although Maude noted there was dust on almost all of them.

  Davenkirk sat behind a wide, stained-oak desk. His robe hung on a hat rack beside the single blinded window in the office, behind his desk. The judge wore a white broadcloth shirt, stained with sweat, and suspenders that held up his baggy trousers. The ruby in the judge’s thick gold masonic ring caught a stray beam of sunlight and flashed in the darkness. The room smelled of sweet pipe tobacco, stale flatulence and gun oil.

  “I thought it best we talk this out in here,” Davenkirk said, stuffing a pipe. “Before we go back in my courtroom.”

  Bella and Maude sat in chairs to the left of the judge’s desk, Rutledge and Martin sat to the right.

  “Mrs. Mansfield, I have decided, after much deliberation and observation, that I am not going to accept your credentials to practice law in my jurisdiction,” Davenkirk said. “I find your courtroom demeanor while examining the last witness to be unseemly, and unfitting a member of the fairer sex.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I’m not shocked, your honor,” Bella said. “Did you make your decision before or after I trounced Mr. Rutledge?”

  “Now just a moment, madame!” Rutledge said, rising, “How dare you…”

  “Sit down and shut up, Andy,” Davenkirk said. “She did kick your ass, and you volunteered for the ass-kicking.” He turned his attention to Bella. “And you, madame, you need to watch your mouth; it’s going to get you into trouble, if you’re not careful. You got no call to be talking to me that way. I gave you a damn sight more latitude in my courtroom than any of my colleagues would have.”

  “That is true,” Arabella said, nodding. “You at least let me speak on behalf of my client for a time; you didn’t just shut me down right out of the gate. Thank you for that. It was a pleasure to practice in your court. It’s an experience I will treasure fondly all my life. I’m just sorry you didn’t have the gumption to see this through, your honor.”

  Davenkirk laughed. “You’re a ballsy one, ain’t you?” he said. “I was curious to see how you’d do. You did too well, I’m sorry to say. Folks around here just aren’t ready for lady lawyers, especially winning lady lawyers. Sorry, dear.”

  “So you’re dismissing this nonsense,” Rutledge said. “Good riddance.” Davenkirk raised a hand and shook his head.

  “Whoa, no, I’m not dismissing anything,” the judge said, “and you should thank your lucky stars, Andy, you got caught with your britches down. Since I am not recognizing Mrs. Mansfield as qualified counsel, Miss Stapleton is gonna need to go find herself a lawyer and decide if she wants to start this mess all over again.”

  “Good luck finding one in a thousand miles willing to even talk to her,” Rutledge said.

  “Thus depriving her of her Sixth Amendment rights,” Bella said, shaking her head.

  Davenkirk looked at Maude, and his tone was soft. “Your father’s people will have dug up all kinds of nasty witnesses from back in that frontier shit-hole by the time you find a real lawyer, Miss. If it’s anything like most of those frontier towns, they can probably buy a witness against you for a cheap bottle of rye.

  “Between us, your father has always been a decent, churchgoing man, honest businessman. Your mother, God rest her soul, was one of the kindest people I ever knew. She sat and cared for my mother when she was dying. I see a lot of her fire in you, but that fire caused her and your father a whole passel of trouble. Women and politics just don’t mix, never have, never will.

  “I hate to see all this dirt getting kicked on a good family name, not to mention dragging your poor little girl into it too. You sure we can’t settle this without it going back into a courtroom? I’m sure your father would be willing to provide you a very generous allowance.”

  “This has never been about money, Maude,” Martin said, looking to his daughter. “I just wanted you to be safe, to not get hurt, or allow Constance to be hurt. I’m willing to let you two live at Grande Folly; you can spend your inheritance as you see fit, within reason. You’ll never have to work a day in your life, neither will Constance. She can attend the finest finishing schools in Europe, be permitted access to marry into the cream of the aristocracy. Please, Maude, be reasonable.”

  All three men and Bella looked at Maude. The afternoon shadows lengthened through the squinting blinds. The cuckoo clock ticked. Maude sighed and looked to her father.

  “‘To be safe,’” Maude began, “‘not allow Constance to be hurt’ … ‘willing to let me live,’ to ‘spend my money as I see fit, within reason’ … ‘never have to work a day’ … Constance would ‘be permitted to marry.’ That’s reasonable, Daddy? Is this really how it all works, past the black robes, and the oaths sworn on Bibles? ‘The whole truth and nothing but the truth’? This is my day in court? A backroom promise of a very comfortable slavery for me, for my daughter, as long as we are reasonable, as long as we don’t ask for too much, get too uppity, make too much of a noise and a fuss?”

  The compassion slid off Martin’s face and he shook his head. “You don’t understand, Maude, you’ve never understood.”

  “Did you ever make that offer to Mother?” Maude asked, standing. She nodded to Bella and Mansfield opened her battered leather case. “She must have gotten to hate those words so much—‘reasonable,’ ‘emotional,’ ‘irrational,’ ‘settle down,’ ‘permitted,’ ‘allowed.’”

  Arabella withdrew a packet of papers and handed them to each of the men.

  “What is this?” Rutledge asked, scowling. “It’s the agreement we signed about her not seeking to appeal based on incompetent counsel, so what?”

  “And these are statements copied from my company ledgers,” Martin said. “Where the devil did you get these?”

  Bella removed another do
cument from her case. She held it up for all to see. “The reason I wanted to depose Rutledge’s clerk and you, your honor, was to establish all the parties had signed off on the agreement, get it into the court record. However, during the recess today I checked with the office of the clerk of the court and as of yesterday, this agreement, signed by all of us, is an official legal document of record. That should be good enough if we need it.”

  “I’m really getting tired of your mouth, woman!” Rutledge said. “Who cares?!” Bella turned to the other lawyer.

  “The law of your land, Mr. Rutledge, is that a married woman has no rights once she is bound to her husband, correct?”

  “Don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own voice?” Rutledge growled. “Yes, you vapid cow, of course it is!”

  “Andy,” Maude said, modulating her voice to play specifically on the lawyer’s nerves, to create unreasoning anxiety, almost fear, in him, “your left kneecap is already weakening from age, wear and from being eighteen-and-a-half pounds overweight. I couldn’t help but notice you favor the right leg. You call either Mrs. Mansfield or myself another derogatory name and you will be on a cane the rest of your life. I assure it.”

  Rutledge visibly paled and shut up.

  “The law says that the bond between husband and wife extends beyond the grave itself,” Bella continued, “the great pervasive doctrine of coverture, the shade of the husband chaining the wife to him for all her days. A widow can’t even sell her own home, sign a deed, buy a horse—simple business you do every day of your lives.”

  “If you have a point, please get to it, Mrs. Mansfield,” the judge said. “I’d like to hear it before I have you and Miss Stapleton ejected from the courthouse.”

 

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