When Annelise had brought her history of the ball down to the present day, she focused back on Hal. “I don’t know how you are going to escort Johanna with what you have, but I don’t suppose there is any help for it. You’ll just need to get cleaned up as best you can. I don’t suppose you can polish those boots, but, for God’s sake, make sure there’s no horseshit on them. Be at Gustavus’ apartment at six. I need to take care of Johanna.”
When Hal arrived at the appointed hour, he found both father and daughter resplendent in velvet and white linen. Gustavus wore maroon, from his jacket to his pleated knee pants, with tight white stockings from the knee down to the polished black shoes. The brass buckle on each shoe was set with a ruby and a large jeweled medallion hung on his chest. Johanna’s dress of black velvet was far simpler than her father’s, but, because it emphasized her figure, it was more striking. A headband, set with opal and sapphire, crowned her head.
“Ah, Hal,” Gustavus said. “I’m sorry we don’t have a better dress uniform for you. I’m afraid you’re going to look rather drab.”
“I’m sorry. Is there something I should do about it?”
“No, no. It’s my fault, if anybody’s, for not thinking about it, but there’s nothing to be done now. Just remember, when we arrive, I will go up first. You follow with Johanna on your arm. When you reach the reception line, you present Johanna to each of the men there but you don’t give your name nor shake hands because you’re not actually invited. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Gustavus looked at Hal critically. “Hal, you have done well in my service so far and you will spend the evening at the ball with us. You are free to eat and drink as you please and there will be plenty available. Understand, though, that I’ll not have you drunk or fighting duels. This is the most important event of my daughter’s life and I will not have it ruined by a hot-headed soldier who can’t control himself. Is that clear?”
“Absolutely.” It would be simple enough to avoid the drink and, as far as fighting duels, well, Gustavus had little to worry about.
• • •
Broad stone steps led from street level to the mansion’s entrance. Oil lamps flared by the door and were placed at intervals down the steps to create a lighted corridor to the street. Hal offered his right arm to Johanna. A thrill ran through him when she placed her hand on his arm, light though the touch was. It happened every time she touched him, usually when he helped her from the carriage on her trips to Martin Wycliff’s house or into town. At least here, at the ball, she would spend the evening with him and maybe, just maybe, the comparison to Martin Wycliff would change.
The front doors stood open to the chilly night and just inside stood the receiving line. This included most of the high officials of the Provisional Government, a row of middle-aged men wearing orange jackets with white stripes and the shoulder tabs of general officers. To this, most of them had added a variety of sashes, decorations and medallions. As if to indicate that the Provis did not underestimate the risk attendant on having so many of their officials lined up in one spot, a row of armed guards stood against the opposite wall.
Hal and Johanna made their way along the line five steps behind Gustavus. At each individual Hal would say, as he had been instructed, “May I present Johanna, daughter of Gustavus Jonsson of Fort Christina.” The man would take the fingers of her right hand between his thumb and forefinger, give his name, then bow to bring his lips within an inch of her hand, but never actually kiss it. Then they would move on to the next man in line. It was unpleasant to be ignored or, more accurately, treated as a walking stick, but Hal focused on parroting his lines. His disinterest lasted to the seventh man in the line, who gave his name quietly as “Henry Wycliff.” With those words, Hal’s eyes locked on the man opposite them. He was no more than five foot nine, with a sallow complexion and a thin beard that ran along the jawline to his chin; his cheeks and upper lip were shaved clean. His hair had already crept well back from his forehead and, from Hal’s vantage point, had thinned out at the crown as well. He looked quite inoffensive, not the sort of man who would whip a ten-year-old girl.
Wycliff kept his eyes on Johanna as he smiled and winked. Hal’s sudden interest went unnoticed by both.
Once past the line, he and Johanna were escorted down the hall and through a door by a solemn-faced page who appeared self-conscious in his stiff orange coat. That door opened onto a huge ballroom, its ceiling two stories high. The floor was a mosaic of polished wood, the overall pattern obscure to Hal. Light from the lamps nested in the chandeliers glinted off the floor, so that it seemed to sparkle. Many people had gathered inside, but so large was the room that it did not feel crowded. A balcony halfway up one wall loomed over the floor. Seated there, alone, was Percy Harmsworth, the man who, ten years after the revolt that brought him to power, still called himself the provisional governor.
As Hal and Johanna walked in, Harmsworth stood up and signaled to the chamber orchestra in one corner of the ballroom. When the music started, people in the room began to pair off.
Gustavus turned to Hal. “Hal, I forgot to ask, can you dance? At least a little?”
Hal looked at the couples who were revolving in slow, orderly patterns. “I can manage that,” he said.
“Then come on,” Johanna said. “My escort is supposed to lead me out for my first dance.”
But it was Johanna who led him out, one delicate hand on his forearm. Just then, Hal would not have cared if he could not dance at all, no matter how many people were watching. They danced at arm’s length, right hand on waist, left hand on shoulder. It was not as close as Hal would have liked, but just having his hand on her waist made him short of breath. He had an excuse to watch her face, which he did while trying to memorize every line and curve. He missed steps. He was clumsy, but he would have been happy to have it go on all night. It did not, of course. After a while, the music stopped. Johanna broke away from him and smiled.
“Thank you for the dance.” She curtsied. Hal felt a thump in his chest.
It was only a few minutes before the music started up again. He held his hand out but she was looking past him, her entire face a smile. Turning, he saw Martin Wycliff standing there with his father.
“My dear Johanna,” Martin said, “may I ask you to join me?”
“Of course, Martin.” She took his hand and they left Hal standing alone.
Hal watched her go, the thump in his chest replaced by one in his stomach, as if from a blow to the solar plexus. Then he realized he was not standing alone. Henry Wycliff had moved next to him.
“Are you Johanna’s soldier escort?” Henry Wycliff’s voice was much like his appearance, soft and unobtrusive.
Hal nodded.
“It’s a rather quaint custom, really,” Wycliff went on. “If she were an English girl, or even Dutch, Martin could have brought her here himself. There would have been no need for you to pretend to dance and feel so out of place. Only the moneyed sort at Fort Christina follow that custom so rigorously, although I suppose to you it seems natural.”
“It doesn’t seem natural to me,” Hal said. “I’m not from New Sweden. I just work for Gustavus.”
“Ah, yes. A mercenary.” Wycliff’s disdain was clear, though his voice remained soft. “Well, I guess you hadn’t expected to earn your coin like this. Never fear. Martin will return her to you at the end of the ball so you may escort her back. My son is a gentleman.”
And you are quite certain that I am not. Wycliff had, apparently, nothing more to say for he was already waving to someone across the room. He moved off in that direction without waiting to see if Hal would reply.
Hal’s thoughts were a jumble, seeking some appropriately cutting rejoinder. He first thought of saying something about Wycliff’s height or thinning hair, but the words sounded as childish in his head as they would have aloud. Wycliff was out of earshot before he thought of asking if the fathers of gentlemen made a practice of whippin
g children. He’d probably have been be too scared to say it anyway.
The rest of the ball was as boring for Hal as waiting in Wycliff’s kitchen. No one spoke to him. None of the girls present noticed him. He might just as well have been a piece of furniture. Actually, it was worse than Wycliff’s kitchen because here he could watch Johanna dancing with Martin Wycliff, dance after dance. Between dances, she chatted and strolled with Wycliff without even a glance at Hal. Servants brought the same trays of food and drink to Hal they did to everyone else, but he was not hungry, and Gustavus had warned him not to drink. Mostly, he just stood in one place feeling miserable.
Eventually, the ball came to an end. Provisional Governor Harmsworth, who had come down to the floor to circulate among the guests, again ascended to his balcony, where he waved to the crowd. Using that as signal, the musicians stopped abruptly and the servants began to remove the food and drink. Martin Wycliff brought Johanna back to where Hal was standing, bowed to kiss her hand and, after a long look into her eyes, took his leave. Gustavus rejoined them almost immediately.
“So, Johanna, did you enjoy yourself? Was it worth the trip?”
“Oh, absolutely!” She clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Martin knows all of the important people here. We even spoke to Provisional Governor Harmsworth and he said Martin—”
“Well.” Gustavus cleared his throat to halt his gushing daughter. “We know many important people in Fort Christina, too, but I’m glad you enjoyed your evening and I’m glad your Martin seems so well placed. And you, Hal,” he turned to face Hal, “I’m proud of you. All these temptations around you and you stood there like a rock. I looked over at you now and again, so I know. I would not have faulted you for enjoying the food and a little drink, but you did your job and nothing else. I know I’m a merchant and not a soldier, but I think I bought one hell of a soldier when I signed you on. Come on, now, let’s get back to our apartments.”
Hal smiled, a little grimly. I hope you’re a better judge of merchandise than of soldiers.
On their return, Gustavus and Johanna disappeared into their apartments. Hal started for his room but stopped in the hall, lost in a reverie. He was tired of being ignored by Johanna, tired of pretending to be a soldier, and tired of remembering a world that he was afraid to mention to anyone. A rapping on a door around the corner snapped him out of his thoughts. The knocking stopped for a moment, then started again. That had to be his door! He walked softly down the corridor. Just as he reached the corner, there came a third knock, followed by Annelise’s annoyed voice calling, “Hal, where are you?”
Hal stepped around the corner to see Annelise pressed up against the door. “Looking for me?”
She jumped and turned, falling back against the door as she came down. “Damn you! You startled me.”
“Well, if you weren’t sneaking around my door, I wouldn’t have startled you, now would I?”
“What do you mean? And what are you doing out here?”
“Is there some reason I shouldn’t be standing out here?” Then it dawned on him. “You were figuring I’d be in my room by now, weren’t you?”
“Of course,” she snapped. “Now can we get out of this corridor before somebody else comes along?”
“Get out of the corridor? You mean into my room, don’t you?”
“Yes. What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I suppose I should be grateful somebody bothers to notice me.” He stepped past her. She followed him in and closed the door behind her.
“I was not at the ball, of course,” she said, “but I can tell you just what happened. You took Johanna to the ball like a good little escort and then, after the customary first dance a lady always gives her escort, she left you in the corner like a wet cloak and spent the evening with Wycliff. I can tell you she was talking about him when she came in. I told you already that you will never have her. That’s what happened, isn’t it?”
Hal nodded.
“Poor Hal.” She stepped close to stroke his face. “When you can’t have what you like, you should like what you can have.”
“You make it sound so simple. Like lighting the kindling in the fireplace.”
“It is that simple,” she said. “We are hurting no one. I am your friend when I can be. I can help you, too. I’ve heard you’re asking after someone who knows about Magicals.”
“What?” Hal had been careful to avoid asking questions at the fort, where he was known.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I have said nothing, and the people who talk about it are not going to speak to your great Gustavus. I would never tell of your interest, and the reason for it does not matter to me. I can tell you, though, that you will never find what you seek the way you are doing it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you parade around town in your pretty uniform asking people for information they probably wouldn’t confess on their deathbeds. No merchant or shopkeeper will admit knowing about Magicals, or even knowing anybody who does. They’ll assume you’re hunting someone, and they don’t want to be involved. You’re asking the wrong people.”
“All right,” Hal said. “Let’s assume that I wanted to know about Magicals and never mind the reason. Should I ask you?”
“No.” The word was sharp and short. “I don’t know about Magicals, nor do I care to. But I can tell you how to find out.”
“How?”
“You should ask someone who would sell his mother for a coin, of course.” Her tone was sharp, as though this was something anyone should know.
“Anyone who will do that will take my money and give me a lie in return.”
Annelise shrugged. “Certainly, some will. All you need is one who will not. So, you spend a few coins. It is smarter than walking around the city asking about Magicals. If you want my advice, ask some of the children who live on the streets. The neighborhood by the docks is a good place to start. Any place, in fact, except the better neighborhoods.”
“Thanks,” Hal said. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” She reached for him. “Now, shall we think about something else?”
21
The Pincher
THE NEXT DAY that Hal had to himself, he went into town with Annelise’s advice in mind. He had never noticed the children in the streets, a ragged lot wearing odds and ends of clothing, all the color of dirty burlap. Some of them wore shoes in various stages of disintegration while others, even in the cold weather, made do with rags wound around their feet. Once Hal started watching for them, he saw them everywhere, even a few in the well-kept, prosperous neighborhoods. As he neared the docks, their numbers increased dramatically.
Simply seeing them, however, did not help. They took to their heels if he walked in their direction, taunting him with obscenities once they had established a safe distance or peeking from around a corner to see what direction he would take, so they could do the opposite. Calling out to them did no good, and yelling at them to stop just accelerated their flight.
The docks, though, were different. Children swarmed the area, dodging around the people, animals and merchandise. Here, they paid little attention to him unless he came close to arm’s reach. Then they would dodge and twist away. Hal watched them for a while. Then he pulled a coin from his pocket, tossed it in the air, and caught it. No one seemed to notice at first. He sat on the corner of a crate and kept flipping the coin. Pretty soon, he saw one of the children watching him from a distance of about twenty feet. The boy looked about twelve years old, dressed in three tattered shirts, each one far too large for him, a pair of pants held up by a knotted rope, and a pair of boots whose uppers were starting to come away from the soles. Hal caught his eye and nodded. He flipped the coin again. That brought the boy over to stand just far enough away that, had Hal jumped up to grab him, he would have been able to run off.
“Who ye want?” He had a wide mouth that showed several missing teeth. Unruly brown hair fell over both ears to his shoul
ders.
“Why do you think I want someone?”
The boy spit carefully to one side. “You’re offering money, aren’t ye? Provis always want someone.”
“I’m not a Provi. This is a Swedish uniform.”
The boy backed up another step, but did not run. “Ye are offering money? Are ye?”
Hal held the coin up between thumb and index finger. “Yes.”
The boy relaxed. “Good. What are ye offering for? I can get ye anything. I can get ye jewelry if ye have a lady, do ye like that? If ye don’t have a lady, I can get ye one. Some like little girls. I can get ye one.”
“Enough.” Hal put his hand up. “I don’t want a little girl. What’s your name?”
“I’m the Pincher.”
“Figures. Well, Pincher, can you find me someone who knows about Magicals?”
“Magicals? Ye goin’ to catch a Magical? If ye burn him, are ye goin’ to let everybody watch?”
Hal suppressed a shudder. Maybe Nieuw Amsterdam was not as tolerant as Pyke had suggested. “I’m not expecting to catch one now. I just need to find someone who knows about them.”
“Sure. And why would ye want to know about ’em if ye weren’t lookin’ to catch one?” Pincher shrugged and spit again. “Don’t matter to me. Give me that and another guilder and I’ll find you someone. Ye can be sure of it.”
Accidental Warrior: The Unlikely Tale of Bloody Hal Page 23