Game of Bones

by David Donachie

  ‘Delighted, Monsieur le Vicomte,’ said Parker, with a warmth that he’d signally failed to show to his rescuers. ‘And I look forward to another demonstration of his culinary expertise. Not that I ever doubted that a table kept by a man of your noble antecedents would be anything other than superb.’

  ‘You’re in rough trade for a nobleman,’ said Harry.

  Tressoir nodded. But Harry had clearly touched a sore point, since the Frenchman allowed his anger to show. ‘The times we live in rather constrict my choice of employment, Captain.’

  Any lingering doubt about being in the presence of a boring snob was laid to rest over the meal. Harry, listening to Parker castigate the entire Company structure in India, from the governor-general down to the meanest clerk, was very thankful that whatever happened his exposure to the man would be brief. Boiled down to its essentials, it translated into a long wail about his own excellent advice being continually ignored, while other, lesser brains, without breeding or good manners, were indulged. Had Sir William not been too close to Illingworth Harry would have leant over to put to the merchant captain the proposal that they leave him behind. Judging by the discreet looks of ennui that were thrown in his direction by the females, the idea was not his alone.

  Only Tressoir was able to interrupt this litany. He seemed to find silencing Sir William effortless, the Englishman falling mute every time his captor opened his mouth to speak. And in the man’s sycophantic responses to his conversation, and his constant use of the title, he managed to let both Harry and Illingworth know just how lucky they were to be entertained by such a host. A brother of the present Comte de Thury Harcourt, who was with the allied armies in Coblenz, Tressoir came from one of the oldest families in Normandy. Sir William was at pains to point out that the line had been noble when the Conqueror left his patrimony to do battle with King Harold.

  He was also, due to his boastful nature, the main source for details of Tressoir’s recent background, one which went some way to explaining why he chose to operate from such a backwater. Normandy had an isolated quality and a strong feudal tradition that made it difficult for the Jacobins to enforce their edicts. Auguste’s father, trapped by his duties at Versailles, had been a benign landlord, held in some esteem by both his tenants and the peasantry. It had not saved him from the guillotine, but his tenants had tarred and feathered the commissioners sent from the Committee of Public Safety to sequester his properties.

  With too much of France to subdue, revenge had been postponed beyond the life of Robespierre. Under the new ruling élite, merely being of elevated birth was not an automatic death sentence. But with his elder brother serving the Comte d’Artois, the late King Louis’s untrustworthy brother, Auguste was at some risk of attainder. It was one thing to be noble, quite another to have a blood relative actively engaged in fighting the Revolution and prepared, like Artois himself, to become an ally of France’s enemies. Unable to lay their hands on the head of the family, the neck of a younger brother might serve just as well to satisfy Madame Guillotine.

  Hence his determination to stay in the part of the world where loyalty to his bloodline protected him. Parker, embarrassing in the way he praised the family’s courage, positively simpered when Tressoir cut across his sycophancy to counter the Parker flattery with a welcome dose of modesty. No one else was blessed with the same rights. Sir William’s daughter, Caroline, tried hard. She seemed to Harry like a girl who craved enjoyment, with a ready laugh, often muted by a stern glance from her father. But every time she changed the subject, and Tressoir chose not to speak, she was overborne by her suffocating parent who, in condemning all and sundry, sought to heap praise on himself. His two admiral brothers would, he contended, have fared better, like everyone else in authority, had they only listened to his excellent advice.

  ‘I cannot fathom what they could have done better, Sir William,’ said Harry. ‘They are both senior flag officers, and serving ones at that.’

  ‘Something a man achieves by mere survival, sir.’

  ‘Rank, yes, Sir William. But employment is another matter.’

  Judging by the sharp response, Harry had obviously touched a nerve by alluding to that. ‘I could not begin to tell you how much of my own influence was squandered in that direction. In aiding my brothers I have put a check on my own advancement.’

  ‘A great loss to the nation, no doubt,’ Harry replied, deliberately looking at the one person at the table who he knew would appreciate his sally.

  He was quite taken with the way that Lady Katherine responded; she required a napkin to disguise it. Then he felt a deep frisson of guilt, and conjured up in his mind the beautiful, dark-skinned face of Hyacinthe Feraud, which induced a degree of misery, a return of the black dog that had plagued him on the journey home. He realised that in the bustle of the last few days he hadn’t thought of her at all. How could he attempt to amuse Lady Katherine when such a memory was so fresh in his mind? Now it was Harry who needed a napkin to hide his emotions, though fortunately for him this went unnoticed since Sir William prattled on.

  ‘My parents,’ he continued, ‘were misguided in allowing them to enter the service in the first place, Ludlow. Having done so, they have failed to gain the kind of distinction which raises a man above the herd.’

  ‘I don’t follow,’ Harry responded hoarsely, having coughed to clear his throat.

  ‘Have they won a battle?’ demanded Parker, as though such a thing was easy, and commonplace. ‘Look at Rodney and Hood, and that other fellow, the royal bastard, Howe. And what do we hear as we land at Gibraltar? Jervis, who is certainly no gentleman, has won a fleet action that will gain him an earldom. That is achievement, sir, and I dare say any relatives they have are in receipt of the benefits. Me? Despite a huge effort, I have nothing.’

  That was just too outrageous, and a clear indication that he was sitting eating delicious food with a man armoured against ridicule. With some difficulty he shut his ears to the continuing tirade, cutting out Illingworth’s feeble attempts to lighten the atmosphere. Instead, to block out the memories that were plaguing him once more, he turned his mind to what he’d observed so far that day, and the possibilities that had emerged because Tressoir had left himself exposed.

  In one way Sir William’s dominance of the conversation helped, since his long silence barely registered. Within minutes he was calculating tides, times, and numbers, trying to decide whether an assault with boats would be better than bringing his ship in close. On balance he favoured using Bucephalas, for two very good reasons: the firepower she could bring to bear, and because boats meant boarding, and if Tressoir spotted their approach and cut his cables they might find themselves in the open sea, where it was no task for an under-strength crew. But there was no way Tressoir could best Harry in a ship-to-ship contest, even if he chose to run. Sailing or fighting, Lothian was no match for Bucephalas. In open water, or in this constricted channel, short-handed with a well-armed ship alongside, and no chance to escape, Tressoir would be obliged to surrender, quite possibly without a shot being fired. He might try to use his prisoners as hostages, but Harry was prepared to risk that, sure he’d have the upper hand.

  ‘I sent upriver for some ice yesterday,’ said Tressoir. ‘So we shall have flavoured iced cream as a dessert, served with a well-chilled champagne.’

  ‘Splendid, Monsieur le Vicomte!’

  ‘And then, Sir William, I must ask you and your family to withdraw, so that our visitors and I may discuss terms.’

  ‘That, sir, is something for which I wish to be present.’

  ‘No!’ replied Tressoir, without gentility. ‘You will not be.’

  Parker was stung enough to respond in a like manner. ‘Why the devil not?’

  The Frenchman hesitated where he should have given a robust reply. He looked to be on the verge of telling Parker the truth: that his presence, plus his overweaning vanity, would make any conclusion impossible; that the really valuable commodity was the ship and its cargo, and
that he and his family had been used as pawns, bait to ensure someone came to trade for the ship. But good manners won out over the truth.

  ‘How could a gentleman bargain for his own person? It would, Sir William, be too demeaning.’

  Parker was actually lost for words, his hand waving as uselessly as his trembling lower lip. ‘I was thinking to act on behalf of my family,’ he spluttered.

  ‘Never fear, sir,’ said Illingworth, proving how easy he found it to play the diplomat. ‘The thought is paramount in our considerations.’

  Harry was thinking that once more Tressoir had exposed himself, partly through allowing Parker to recount his history, but more by the way he’d hesitated. The Frenchman needed to deal. Given his rank and relatives, plus the threat he faced from an unfriendly government, he had nowhere else to sell his goods. He would be forced to take whatever price was offered, and since he wanted to stall the negotiations Harry was determined to propose as his opening offer one he’d be bound to refuse.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  DISCUSSING terms with Tressoir was going to be a trying business, especially since he and Illingworth were never left alone to sort out the approach. And if he suspected that Harry Ludlow knew his difficulties he certainly didn’t behave that way, pitching his first requirement well over the actual value of the ship and its cargo by demanding a fully armed and rigged frigate.

  ‘At that price, I might even be prepared to let the passengers go.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ replied Harry. ‘Indeed, I’d expect half Normandy for that price. Nor is it one that any admiral could agree to, since that would leave you in prime position to prosper by harrying British trade. Parker would be impeached.’

  Tressoir smiled, slightly. ‘Nevertheless, it is what I want. And a swift conclusion would be welcome. Even in these troubled times, I find holding people for ransom uncomfortable.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Harry responded, ‘not entirely commensurate with the status of an aristocrat and a gentleman?’

  Tressoir wasn’t offended. He bowed his head slowly in acknowledgement. Harry was about to follow that up by asking for their release regardless when Illingworth, evidently impatient to proceed, spoke across him.

  ‘You originally demanded gold. The insurers have advised me to proceed on that basis, and gave me a figure.’

  ‘Which I advised them was way too much,’ said Harry, quickly.

  Illingworth paused, caught off-guard. He’d discussed the value put on the Lothian with Harry Ludlow, and heard him agree that it was fair. Yet he also knew that Tressoir had altered his demand, so he chose to remain silent, and nodded for Harry to proceed.

  ‘I am curious, Captain Ludlow,’ said Tressoir, a wicked gleam in his eye. ‘Just how much power do you have in these matters?’

  Illingworth adopted a bland expression as the Frenchman’s gaze shifted to him, which he maintained throughout Harry’s response.

  ‘I can veto anything if I so choose, since I command the ship that brought Captain Illingworth here. Now, let us be sensible. You have nowhere to sell your captures but back to the rightful owners.’

  ‘That is a very large assumption.’

  ‘But an accurate one. We could sit here all day, haggling like Arab traders to narrow the gap between our respective positions, which would leave us the unenviable task of rowing back to my ship, in darkness, on an ebb tide. But after such an excellent dinner I find such a notion too exhausting. So I propose that a little honesty might serve us all very well.’

  Tressoir was looking hard at Harry, in a way which made him feel slightly uncomfortable. It was the same expression that he had worn on deck, the one that indicated he could see right through to whatever he was thinking. Oddly enough, Harry did want that very thing, but wished to reserve the thoughts behind his behaviour to himself.

  ‘Honesty, Captain Ludlow?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘If I might be permitted to speak,’ said Illingworth, hands raised as if he wanted to control a debate in danger of becoming acrimonious.

  ‘I’d rather hear from your companion,’ replied Tressoir, his voice, for the first time, hard and unfriendly. ‘I believe he was about to expound the truth.’

  ‘You know your situation better than I, Monsieur.’

  ‘That is certainly a fact.’

  ‘I propose that for the sum of twenty-five thousand pounds sterling you hand over both the Lothian and her passengers, along with any personal possessions they carry, and leave Captain Illingworth and me to sort out our respective portions of the total.’ Tressoir, whose face had originally clouded with anger, suddenly laughed out loud as Harry continued. ‘Perhaps we could meet again tomorrow, so that you have time to think about it.’

  ‘The answer is no!’

  ‘Till tomorrow,’ Harry repeated emphatically, as he got to his feet. ‘Now with your permission, I will say good day to Sir William and his family.’

  The Frenchman still seemed amused rather than offended, though Harry wondered if the man was acting. ‘Don’t tell him what you have offered me. He thinks he’s worth more than that all on his own.’

  ‘I apologise for that, Captain Illingworth,’ said Harry, as their boat pulled away from the side of the Indiaman. This time the current was against them, strong and steady, the strain of the long pull soon showing in the faces of the boat crew. Behind them the sun was sinking towards the western horizon, silhouetting the two islands, with a sliver of moon already well up in the east.

  ‘You left me high and dry, sir,’ Illingworth growled from inside the folds of his boatcloak, ‘though so did that damned Frenchman with his demand for a frigate.’

  ‘A curious request,’ Harry replied.

  ‘And nonsensical, for the very reasons you pointed out. The man is a menace in a leaky corvette, imagine what he’d be with a frigate at his disposal.’

  ‘Lethal.’

  ‘But I think that a higher offer would have made him more amenable. Not even the most devious Calcutta trader would have proposed such a derisory opening sum. He was bound to refuse.’

  Seeing Harry smile at that produced a questioning look from Illingworth, then one that tried to convey that he’d known all along what was afoot. ‘Of course, it was deliberate?’

  ‘Certainly. Even with his evident problems, your ship is worth ten times that sum.’

  ‘What do you propose?’

  ‘I should have thought, Captain Illingworth, that you of all people would guess, since it is one of the prime reasons for my being here.’

  The silence that followed that question was clear evidence that Illingworth wasn’t sure what he wanted. Part him of him must crave retaking his ship, while another section would shudder to think of his precious Lothian suffering damage. When he replied his voice had none of its usual carrying power. ‘You intend to make an attempt at recapture.’

  ‘Tressoir has made it all but irresistible. He has sent his own ship away, so you must have observed that he’s undermanned. I doubt he has enough crew to handle your guns, and we can observe any help he might expect long before it can get near him.’

  ‘That channel is narrow, and I will wager it’s more dangerous than the benign creature we saw today. Even calm, it is not a place I’d sail into without proper soundings.’

  ‘Which is why I intend to drive him out into the open sea. You admire your ship, but know as well as I do that she can’t outsail Bucephalas.’

  ‘The Parker family?’

  ‘He is uncomfortable with the notion of hostages.’

  ‘Sir William Parker thinks him a gentleman.’

  ‘I must say I do, as well,’ replied Harry, ‘though it has nothing to do with a slavish regard for titles. He handled Sir William with consummate skill, when it would have been very easy, and must have been exceedingly tempting, to cause offence. I’ve met a few insufferable people in my time, Captain Illingworth, but Parker beats the band. I wouldn’t pay a brass farthing to get him back.’

  ‘I doub
t that his brothers have any regard for him. It is more likely that their interest in his safe return is financial rather than familial.’

  ‘Tell me, Captain Illingworth, given all the alternatives, how would you go about recapturing your ship?’

  Illingworth held up a hand, palm visible in the fading light. ‘I will not be drawn, sir. I have suffered too much in that area already. The taking of prizes is your profession and your affair.’

  Harry grinned at him, thinking again that his first impression of the merchant captain had been wrong. After they’d had words outside Admiral Parker’s office Harry had felt, even more strongly, that the man was pompous and overfond of his own voice. But the sea had brought out the sailor in him, giving them some common territory to discuss that was neither personal nor contentious. His confusion regarding an attack, given his profession, was hardly surprising. Harry Ludlow had spent half his life making such decisions, Illingworth most of his praying to avoid them. And while talking to Tressoir he’d had the good grace, once he perceived that Harry and the Frenchman had a different, albeit mysterious agenda, to stay silent. Now, though he might say he refused to be drawn, his comments showed a firm grasp of essentials.

  ‘I agree with you about the channel, but I will sail into it if I have to. But I’m hoping that Tressoir, because of the sum we offered, will guess my intentions and try what has to be his only hope.’

  ‘Which is to flee.’

  ‘Yes. And preferably to get to open water before I realise that he’s unmoored. The tides in the morning watch will be advantageous, and it will still be dark till around seven. By stealing a march on me he might just think they can put enough sea between us to make the Seine Estuary before I can overhaul him.’ Harry heard Pender call to the sweating, grunting oarsmen, and the cutter swung round to get into the lee of his ship. ‘And to give him good cause to do just that, I intend to get to windward of St. Aubin so he has a clear avenue in which to sneak away.’