And so he threw himself into his work with all of his will and all of his energy. He found the braves quick, intelligent and eager to learn. By taking advantage of their natural abilities to move silently and stealthily, to conceal themselves in the jungles and to strike at a foe with great speed, he began to shape a force of formidable fighting men. He increased the pace of training of his warriors, he taught them how to work together in groups and he devoted special attention to those who showed an aptitude for leadership. As he labored he continued to receive regular reports from the observers he had stationed near Boline's beach installations, and after a few weeks he became familiar with the army's hierarchy. Whenever Boline or one of his principal lieutenants left Dominica or returned, Ethan knew it, and each time newly captured slaves were poured into the Emperor's "crucible," Ethan made a fresh addition to his tallies.
The most effective weapon the Carib possessed was the poison blowgun, and at Ethan's direction the older men of the nation went to work making guns and arrows in large numbers. By the time he was through, he often told himself, he would have forged an army that would more than hold its own. And it was comforting to think that Boline's artillerymen and sappers would have little use for their hard-earned talents in the rugged, tangled jungle fastness.
During the second month of his labors he was joined by Poda, who was now restored to good health. The Indian demonstrated such a capacity for organizational detail that Ethan made him second in command of the army.
He realized that his debt to the Indians was enormous, and he knew he could not desert them prematurely. He would have to remain with them until they made themselves truly secure, and the suspicion began to dawn on him that he might spend far more months on the island then he wished. This belief grew in him, and when he returned with Poda to the village of Dama after three months of work in the other scattered Carib communities, his fear had been crystallized into a certainty. It would be a long time before he would see civilized places again, if he remained until his work was done.
As he and Poda moved through the mountainous countryside to the village, Ethan caught a glimpse of himself in the waters of a little lake and he was startled by his own appearance. Except for his height, he could have been mistaken for a native: his skin was tanned a deep copper shade, his hair was long and held by a narrow band around his forehead, and he was clad only in a breech cloth and a pair of soft leather moccasins. In his belt was a curved, bone-handled knife, and slung over his shoulder was a pouch containing a blowgun and a supply of arrows. It pleased him that he had learned to use the weapon, and his sense of disappointment at having to remain in Dominica longer than he had anticipated was somewhat mitigated by the hope that he would put the gun to use against the fanatics who were trying to create the Empire of the West.
After a stiff climb, Ethan and Poda drew near to the village, but they paused, when they heard a loud, mournful chant, and after they had listened to it for a moment Poda's face became grave and he broke into a trot. Ethan started to run, too, although he didn't know what was happening. In a few minutes they caught sight of a long procession of men and women, all with ashes smeared on their faces and hands. They were moving out of the village toward a spot still higher in the mountains, and Ethan saw that at the head of the line was a man whose naked body had been rubbed with ashes. His hands were tied behind his back with a rawhide thong, and he lifted his feet dispiritedly, as though each step was his last.
The expressions of the natives were so grim that when Poda slipped into the ranks of the marchers, Ethan unconsciously lowered his voice to a whisper. "What's going on, Poda?"
"He who is covered with the dust of Santro-kri has killed another of our land, and he goes now to Santro-kri to atone for his sin. It is the custom of our people. Ethan will see."
After a walk of a few more minutes the vegetation fell away and Ethan saw a thick, bluish-white vapor ahead, spreading out over a large area. A pungent, acrid odor made the villagers cough, but they continued to chant nevertheless, and Ethan, his eyes smarting, blinked in astonishment when a gust of wind cleared away the vapor for a few moments. Not thirty feet distant was a large bubbling lake.
The heat became increasingly intense when the group drew still closer to the shore; Ethan realized that the lake was volcanic and that the bubbling substance was lava, not water. The brief wind died away, and the fumes rose straight up into the air again. At last the procession halted, about fifteen feet from the shore. Dama, the head man, who had been first in the Hne behind the prisoner, lifted his hands high above his head and invoked a long prayer to Santro-kri. He paused after each phrase and the villagers piously repeated his words.
When he was finished, he drew his knife and pointed it at the murderer. "Go now, and appease the terrible anger of Santro-kri," he thundered.
The man, visibly quaking, did not move; Dama again ordered him to move to the lake, but the murderer seemed almost paralyzed. While he stood indecisively, the people picked up pieces of volcanic rock and began to throw them at him. Several stones struck him before he started to move, and they continued to shower upon him until he vanished into the vapor. There was a loud, agonized scream, followed by a moment of dead silence—Santro-kri, the god of the volcanic lake, had obtained vengeance.
Then the villagers relaxed, and as they moved away from the fumes, they behaved as though nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. They chatted and laughed volubly, and they greeted Ethan and Poda warmly as they started back to the village. Ethan, who was walking with several of the braves, gradually realized that someone was watching him from a distance. After peering at the crowd for a moment he saw Luki. Her black eyes were shining, and her ripe young body swayed sinously as she moved. Ethan started toward her, but she darted off and disappeared into the jungle. Before he could follow her, Dama called out to him, and when they arrived at the village he and Poda spent more than an hour with the head man, reporting on all they had done in recent months.
A slight rain was falling when Ethan emerged from Dama's house, and by the time he reached his own hut, which he had not seen in many weeks, the downpour was steady. He ducked inside, then stopped in surprise; Luki was in the center of the structure, busily stirring some food in a heavy pot over a fire. He stared at her and grinned. "Well," he said. "You ran off before I could greet you."
"The meal of Ethan will soon be ready," she replied, not looking up.
He laughed and started toward her.
Luki continued to stir the contents of the pot vigorously. "Now that Ethan has returned, it is the duty of Luki to cook for him."
"Never mind that just now. It's been a long time since I've seen you." He reached out and pulled her to her feet.
Luki did not merely stand; she allowed herself to drift, and the force of Ethan's tug propelled her straight into his arms. Before he quite realized what was happening, he was holding her closely. She insinuated herself against him, her eyes hungry, her lips parted. He tightened his grip on her, bent his head down to hers and kissed her.
The rain, drumming against the roof of the hut, contributed to Ethan's sense of isolation; he felt as though he and Luki were alone in the world, and his hands began to roam restlessly. He was going to stay in the land of the Carib for a long time, he told himself, and it was even possible that he might have to live here for the rest of his days. He would be stupid to deny himself what was being offered to him so freely.
Luki stirred in his arms and he loosened his hold on her. She smiled up at him mistily, and he felt deeply stirred. Her warm, full-lipped beauty excited him, even as her youth and her innocence aroused his protective instincts. Tenderly, as though she were very fragile and delicate, he reached for her again. She came to him quickly, eagerly, and nestled in his arms.
At the moment when he least expected it, she moved still closer to him, her body writhing with all of the vigorous strength and primitive passion of her people. Ethan reacted without thinking, and met her fury with a savagery of his
own as he kissed her again, on the lips, on her fluttering eyelids, on her pulsating throat. Her breasts, firm yet miraculously soft, were close against his chest, and he felt her body quiver as she clung to him.
As he kissed and caressed her, the ecstasy that welled up in her communicated itself to him, and a feeling almost like delirium took possession of him. He forgot that he was in a crude native hut, and that the girl locked in his embrace was naive and ignorant. He knew only that her feminity was overwhelming and that he wanted her.
At that moment Luki moaned softly, and Ethan froze involuntarily. She sounded so young, so inexperienced that his desire for her disappeared and was replaced by a feeling of pity for her and contempt for himself. She might be a woman by her standards and those of her people, but to Ethan she was an immature adolescent. He realized he would never be able to forgive himself if he took advantage of her. It was one thing for a man to make love to a girl mature enough to know her own mind, but it was another matter entirely to seduce an ingenuous child.
Ethan released Luki so unexpectedly that she staggered and almost fell. Bewildered, she looked up at him, and when she saw that his desire was gone, her eyes reflected deep pain and humiliation. He tried, desperately, to think of something to say that would ease her hurt, but his mind was blank. He stood motionless, with his hands clenched at his sides. Luki sobbed wildly, then she turned and ran out of the hut, heedless of the heavy rain.
Twelve
THE WEATHER in New York had been bitterly cold for several weeks. A thick blanket of snow covered the ground, icicles dripped from the eaves of almost every house and a bone-chilling wind from French Canada swept across the town. But Talbot Courtney's drawing room was pleasantly comfortable; three huge logs blazing in the heart cast their cheerful warmth to the farthest comer of the chamber.
The atmosphere crackled almost as loudly as did the burning wood. The senior partner of Courtney and Wade was obviously agitated as he faced his guest, Jacques Gomez. "Mistress Courtney presents her regrets, sir, but to be truthful with you, she's in no condition to receive you."
"My condolences," the West Indian murmured. "If I've called at an inopportune time—"
"Not at all, sir! Not at all!" Talbot Courtney replied emphatically. "I've been extremely anxious to see you. It so happens that you're in a position to do me a great service, if you will. We've only known each other for a matter of months, so I may be deluding myself when I say that I feel we've become good friends—"
"The best of friends," Gomez interrupted, smiling. "And I assure you that there's nothing within my power that I would hesitate to do for you." Men like Courtney, he reflected, would be valuable when Marinus Boline established the capital of his Empire here. Wealthy merchants who were easily led could always be flattered into parting with large sums of money that would help to defray expenses when the army moved on to new conquests.
"Thank you, sir. Thank you." Courtney sighed, filled two silver cups with a golden dry sack and handed one to his guest. "It's Prudence," he confided as he sat in a velvet-padded chair. "She's at the root of all this, the lovesick little fool."
Gomez, deeming it wiser not to reply, took a small sip of his sack. The idea had recurred to him repeatedly in recent months to mention Ethan Wade's marriage to Melanie, and at times he had found the temptation almost irresistable. But he had refrained, for a lifelong sense of caution had warned him not to throw away information that could instead be a valuable tool if he used it to his advantage. And, he thought now, a girl who was grieving for her lost love might become very easy to handle when she learned that the man she had hoped to marry had instead taken the luscious Melanie Leclerc as his bride. It was conceivable, Gomez reflected, that he might be able to utilize the situation to Boline's benefit and, consequently, to his own.
All he needed to do was to keep his wits, and he had no doubts of his skill. His months in North America had given him a confidence in his abilities even greater than he had ever before possessed; he had made deals with most of the prominent merchants in New York, and not one of his potential victims had guessed that he was carefully planning the inauguration of a new era for the colonies. And, he thought with satisfaction, not even Ethan could be positive that Gomez had plotted against him. A man that clever deserved the highest honors, and he was looking forward to the not-far-distant day when the Emperor would reward him. Soon he would return to the Indies, to his place at Boline's right hand.
"Ever since the little devil has gotten this confounded idea into her head, she's been impossible," Courtney said. "I never thought I'd Hve to see the day when Td be forced to say that my daughter is an affliction instead of a blessing, but there it is!" His face became dangerously red.
"Surely such a charming young lady would do nothing to cause unhappiness for her parents," Gomez protested smoothly.
"Prudence may be charming enough, but she's lost her wits—and that's a fact, sir. I asked you to call today because I hope that you'll be able to talk a little sense into that flighty head of hers!"
"I've had very little practice in counseling young ladies," Gomez said, smiling graciously. "Perhaps if you were to tell me what it is that—"
"I think it's better if she tells you herself." Courtney hauled himself to his feet, walked to the foot of the stairs in the entrance hall and cupped his hands. "Prue!" he shouted. "Come down here! This instant!" Returning to his chair, he sat and drummed on its arms.
It was impossible to make conversation, and Gomez sat back politely and waited. There was silence for several minutes, then the visitor straightened and Courtney glowered as they heard the sound of footsteps. Prudence came into the room. "Why in tarnation are you wearing clothes like that in this kind of weather?" her father demanded. She was dressed in a gown of crisp white muslin embroidered with blue flowers and green leaves. A plain white muslin cape-collar edged with lace covered her shoulders and dipped to a deep point between her breasts. Over her full but soft skirt hung a plain muslin apron, also edged with lace, and on her feet were low-heeled, soft white slippers.
"I was about to pack this dress for my journey," Prudence explained with an impudent smile, "and I was trying it on first. You said I was to come downstairs immediately, so that's what I did, without taking time to change first Good afternoon, Master Gomez."
She extended her hand to the West Indian, and he, already on his feet, bowed and kissed her fingers. "As always, you look enchanting, Mistress Prudence."
Talbot Courtney cleared his throat noisily. "Prue," he-said, "I sent for you because I want Master Gomez to hear your insane plan. Go ahead, tell him what you intend to do."
"I'm going to Martinique," the girl said calmly.
"I beg your pardon?" Gomez could not conceal his amazement.
"I'm going down to the West Indies to find Ethan."
"Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous?" her father asked testily. "A young girl who's led a sheltered life is seriously planning on chasing after a ne'er-do-well, vicious criminal who stole money from his uncle and me! She insists she's going to run after him—a man who isn't fit to—"
"As I've told you until I'm tired of hearing the sound of my own voice," Prudence said with a show of temper, "I don't for one minute believe that Ethan is a ne'er-do-well or that he's vicious or that he's a criminal. I think—"
"Facts are facts, no matter what you think!" Courtney boomed, pounding the arm of his chair. "Ethan Wade has absconded with two thousand pounds, and that little weasel of a Jed Moulton has been helping him to spend it!"
"So you say." Prudence held her ground firmly, and her voice was obstinately unyielding and cold. "But I happen to know Ethan better than you know him, better than his uncle knows him. And I don't accept that sort of a story. He's the most honest man who has ever lived. And the kindest and most decent and most wonderful—" "You see. Master Gomez?" Courtney raised his hands despairingly. "She's in love with him, and she won't listen to a word of the truth!"
The West Indian rubb
ed his chin with a sensitive forefinger. "I'm afraid your father is right, Mistress Prudence," he said quietly, cautioning himself to weigh every word carefully. "I've had letters myself, two or three of them, from friends and associates in St. Pierre. And they all say the same thing. It's sad to relate, but Wade and Moulton have been squandering funds that don't belong to them. They've been living in luxury, they've been drinking heavily—and I've heard that Wade spent a very considerable sum on an expensive piece of jewelry for a young woman. It gives me no pleasure to repeat these things, for I was fond of him. And I can imagine how bad you must feel. But as your father says—facts are facts."
Prudence put her hands on her hips, and her eyes blazed. "Father has already told me all the details you've just repeated, Master Gomez. And I don't believe them. I say they're nothing but lies. Ethan wouldn't behave that way—and neither would Jed. Why, I have so much faith that I've been taking care of Jed's poor sister myself, out of my own money."
"That's very commendable of you. Mistress Prudence. But I'm afraid you carry your loyalty too far."
"I haven't carried it anywhere as yet. But I'm going to do precisely that! I've booked passage for myself on the brig Magee, and I'm going to be on board when she sails for St. Pierre in eleven more days. I won't be satisfied until I've seen Ethan with my own eyes and hear him tell me—himself—just what's happened!"
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