Liam pulled up when he reached us and looked at the bull and surrounding carnage.
“An’ ’ere we be, worried an’ all!” he scoffed.
“Aye, we thought we might have to hunt for breakfast,” Otter added.
I rolled my eyes and sat with great relief. Now that the danger was past, I was acutely aware of all the pain I had caused myself.
“Who was this Le Croix?” I asked Gaston when he handed me my musket, which he had thankfully loaded, as I was not sure of my ability to carry it at the moment.
“Doucette saved his life,” he said tiredly.
“They took off after ya last evenin’,” Liam said. “Striker sent us on along, an’ Pierrot sent Tooco an’ Crème here ta join us.”
I looked at the men who had arrived with them. Both wore floppy leather hats like Liam’s, and stained leather breeches and jerkins. They were not young; their weathered faces appeared older than the Scotsman’s by a number of years.
To my surprise, Gaston nodded at them respectfully, and they returned it.
“You know them too?” I asked, as the four men turned to butchering the bull and moving the meat to the shade at the edge of the field.
“I know them from the Haiti,” Gaston said. “They are good men. When I have roved with them they have been kind to me.”
“It is good to know that you have not made enemies everywhere you have gone,” I teased.
He smiled. “It is better to know I have married well.”
“’Ey,” Liam called. “Four shots in this ’ere. Ya done good. I take it Will reloaded quick enough.”
“Aye,” Gaston said proudly. “He did.”
“I do not remember much of loading the musket,” I said.
This garnered great amusement from them, even the Frenchmen after Otter translated.
There was something odd about Otter translating, but I could not name it.
Gaston joined them, and hacked at the bull’s right flank. He soon returned to me with the animal’s thigh bone, and split it so that we could scoop out the marrow. It did indeed taste somewhat like butter, but I did not think I would ever consider it a delicacy.
Soon, we had moved to the shade along with the beef, and the Frenchmen had run off to fetch the captains and others to recover the bodies. Liam and Otter were roasting a nice piece of meat over a fire. Gaston joined me and handed me a water skin.
“That might not be the end of it,” he said.
“I know,” I sighed.
“That was an excellent shot.”
“Perhaps I should have tried lower on the leg, or we should have signaled each other as to which to aim for so that we did not waste a ball on the opposite member,” I muttered.
“I did not mean the bull, and you signaled me very well.”
“Oh that.” I chuckled. “That was a very aggressive dueling stance, and not one that will be accepted in a formal setting.”
“I was not able to witness it, only the result,” he said quietly.
“Ah, well, I will show you once I recover sufficiently. I hope someone has the good sense to bring a bottle.”
He rummaged about in my bag and produced a flask I vaguely remembered placing there. I grinned and took a swig of rum.
“We were greatly aided by the fellow translating,” I said as the burning spread out from my stomach.
Then I remembered what was odd about Otter translating. “I did not know Otter spoke French,” I said.
“He always has,” Gaston said with a shrug and a frown. “Liam does not.”
“I find it odd,” I said, as I thought back over the last year and my relationship with Otter and Liam. “Damn it, then why did he not appear to know what Cudro said that first day upon the North Wind?”
Gaston shrugged again. “Liam is the gossip; Otter is polite. I do not believe he listens unless it involves them.”
I snorted. “I have never mastered the art of not listening; unless, of course, I am distracted. Then I am daft as a cow. And you have been a constant distraction this last year.”
He grinned. “At least I have not impaired your aim.”
“Not when your life is at stake,” I said soberly.
He regarded me with wonder, and I sensed a change in him. He appeared younger, in that strange way I could not attempt to explain to another, much less myself.
His eyes grew moist. “I am so filled with love for you, I do not know how to contain it.”
I cursed my foolishness. He had appeared in control during the insanity about us, but as he had not been settled before the matter, he was now far more unsettled than I at the events. I was not sure how to calm him. I did know I must cast aside my troubled heart and frazzled temper in the aftermath and pick up the reins.
I said as lightly as I could manage, “I know, you did a poor job of containing it last night.”
He shook his head and frowned at my jest. “Will, truly, it is a huge thing, and I do not know how to carry it.”
“That is why we have a cart,” I said gently. “And we pull it together. Because love is heavier than gold, and love such as ours is more than one man can bear, perhaps.”
He studied the ground and wiped away the tears. His nod was thoughtful when it came; but he was still not himself, or quite as he had been the last few days, either. Though I supposed he was, and this was simply not a facet he had shown because there had not been the proper events to trigger this face of his madness. With dismay, I saw he was rocking back and forth in little movements.
I looked to Liam and Otter; they were not watching us. I wondered how long we had before the others arrived.
I took his hand, and spoke as I would to a child. “I have the reins.”
He nodded and his gaze was earnest when it met mine. “I know. Thank you.”
He stood and walked back into the field. I pushed to my feet and followed him. He went to the place where the bull had fallen and turned slowly about, regarding the bodies. I joined him and did the same. With surprise I saw that Le Croix only had one leg.
In an effort to keep Gaston talking, I asked, “Does his missing leg have something to do with how Doucette saved him?”
Gaston was rocking back and forth again. He nodded with great effort. His voice was very soft, as if he whispered out of respect for the dead, or fear that they would hear him. “He lost his foot to a shark. The leg putrefied before they could get him to Doucette. And he fevered.”
Liam joined us. He was frowning at Gaston, and I supposed my matelot’s state of mind was evident to any but the blind.
“He canna’ be touchin’ the bodies, Will,” Liam said. “These men be ours, na’ the Spanish.”
Belatedly, I remembered that Gaston was called the Ghoul for a reason. I had only seen him arrange bodies the one time on the galleon, but he had been behaving like he was now just before he did.
I put a light arm over his shoulder and spoke French. “Let us go back to the trees, my love.”
His eyes were hard and dangerous when he turned on me; all vestiges of the childlike mien were gone.
I did not flinch. “Quit bucking about and help me pull,” I said levelly.
He frowned, but the anger left him.
“I know you wish to honor them,” I said gently. “I understand. But no one else will, and I cannot explain it to them.”
Now he appeared perplexed.
I tentatively applied pressure across his shoulders, to steer him away to the trees. To my relief, he moved as I wished. When I had him back where we had sat before, I pushed him to sit. I knelt stiffly, and rummaged in my bag until I found the manacles.
He shook his head at the sight of them. There was no defiance in the gesture, just reluctance. “I will behave.” Then the childlike mien returned and he appeared scared.
I hid the chains away and sat with him. Exhaustion swept over me, to such an extent that I felt despair. I cast about for anything to anchor myself before I drifted away into a sea of despondency.
“Are you always like this after a battle?” I asked. “You were thus on the galleon; before that, on the flute, you had me to tend to and that distracted you. Do you… suffer regret to this extent, or is there some…?”
His fingers were on my lips. “It is wrong to kill.”
I gently pulled his hand away. “It is right to defend your matelot. It is right to defend yourself.”
That seemed to please him, and he nodded with growing confidence. “Thank you for putting it so.”
“You are welcome.”
And then I could say no more, as the others were arriving and I could only pray to the Gods that Gaston stayed calm and quiet and they did not notice his state.
The three captains, and those who arrived with them, went to look at the dead men in the field. A lone figure broke from them: it was Dickey. He cast about until he spied us and then he ran to our side. He appeared distraught.
“We are well,” I assured him as he approached.
He ignored my words. “Will, it has all gone awry,” he hissed, as he collapsed to kneel with us on the ground.
“How so?”
“Tom, he said, oh damn, he… we quarreled. He challenged me to a duel and I accepted!”
I wondered how many shots I could get off if the Gods decided to charge me instead of merely throwing things.
Thirty-Six
Wherein Our Prayers Are Answered
The captains were approaching.
“Dickey, what is the gist of it?” I asked. “And speak quickly, because we are not long alone.” I smiled to soften the last.
He glanced over his shoulder at the other men and gave a short huffing sigh. When he spoke, it was a prolonged rush. “Tom feels I betrayed him. And truly, it was as if he had an agenda. Our quarrel was nonsensical, such that I did not feel anger so much as confusion. He even blamed Francis for seducing me into corruption. Then he said some nastiness about how he had always known I lusted for him, him being Tom that is. But it seemed to be all a show for his fellows who were gathered about. One of them translated the lot of it and they were quite amused. They goaded him on. I have seen similar things. But Tom... he did not look so very brave, or rather he looked as I have always known him to look when he was trying to be brave. But… I could say nothing under the circumstances to mitigate the matter. So, I expressed my outrage at his accusations, and he asked if we should settle the matter as gentlemen, and… I said aye.”
As he spoke, I glanced at Gaston. My matelot seemed composed, but I could tell he was still not himself.
I turned my attention back to Dickey, who was also eyeing Gaston with concern. “We are all a trifle unsettled.” I shrugged. “And, well, we knew someone has to kill Tom. I am sorry it is you, though.” I was especially sorry as I felt he lacked the conviction necessary. He did not truly view Tom as his enemy.
He chewed his lip. “I do not know if I can.”
“We will address that before all else in my instruction. Weapons?”
“Pistols,” he said glumly.
“I assume the place is the beach. When?” I asked.
“Dawn. On the morrow.”
I nodded. “We have the rest of the day to instruct you, then. I feel confident in what I can teach you.”
Then others were upon us and I could not finish all I wished to say.
Striker gave me a smile that said much of his sense of irony concerning events, and I returned it. Here we had made all our plans and Tom had gone off and challenged Dickey.
I looked over the assemblage: in addition to Striker there were Pete, of course; Pierrot; the Belle Mer’s captain, Savant; Julio and Davey; and three men I did not know but assumed were French. Savant, who I had not met before, was a smallish man, with square shoulders and head, and a somewhat squat and bulbous nose, yet he was not ugly: there was a pleasing plainness to his countenance. At the moment, he appeared anything but pleased.
“Nice shooting,” Pierrot said in English with a grin.
I snorted. “And you have not seen the bull carcass yet. Pete will be pleased to hear I managed a second shot.”
Pete chuckled. “BullsDrunkOrScared.”
I grinned. “The bull proved to be sufficient motivation. I do not remember powdering the pan.”
This brought amusement for all except Dickey, who was distraught, and Savant and the other Frenchmen, as apparently they did not speak English. Savant did not appear to be in a fine enough humor to find amusement even if he had understood my jest. He was glaring at Gaston, who was looking at none of them. This was not missed by Pierrot and Striker, who appeared concerned, as always. I sighed.
“What occurred?” Savant asked in French.
“They were his men,” Striker said quietly.
I spoke French. “We thought we might be pursued. Gaston heard someone in the woods behind us. We went into the field to avoid them. We came upon a bull. When we had taken the bull, we found ourselves surrounded by five men. One of them, a man my matelot recognized as Le Croix, said that they only wanted Gaston and that I could go. That was unacceptable, so we defended ourselves.”
Savant turned to glare back at where the corpses lay in the field. Pierrot was smiling at the sky and worrying his lip with his thumb to disguise it. I took the opportunity to translate for the Englishmen in the audience. They found amusement in my account much as Pierrot did.
“There were five of them, and good men,” Savant said accusingly.
“How do you mean that, sir?” I asked in French. “Do you mean they were good men, and therefore should have been allowed to take my matelot’s life over a misunderstanding of past events, or do you mean they were superior combatants we should not have been able to fell?”
His gaze, and the flicked glance he spared Gaston, said he meant both; but he said, “They were experienced fighters, and you were only two.”
I awarded him a grim smile. “They were not so experienced they did not make mistakes.”
“How so?” he asked.
“They forgot they were not hunting cattle or befuddled Spaniards. Muskets are weapons of range: they came too close with them. They did not have other weapons drawn. They allowed themselves to become distracted by one of their number translating my words…”
“Why?” Savant snapped. “You speak French very well.”
I awarded him a grim smile. “Oui. They allowed themselves to become distracted…”
This time he understood and gave a small hiss of annoyance.
“And,” I added, “they should have brought more men. They should have learned from Doucette. No one takes my matelot from me. Not five. Not an army.”
Some of the anger left him and he gave a prolonged sigh. He spoke with his gaze on the trees around us. “They were wrong to seek justice as they did.”
“Especially when there was no justice in what they sought,” I said firmly.
He looked at me sharply. “Your matelot is mad.”
“That does not make him responsible for what occurred with Doucette,” I said.
He snorted. “I’ll allow that, but my men won’t sail with him.”
“I cannot address that,” I sighed. “I can speak of events on Île de la Tortue, but I cannot change who or what my man is. Now if you will excuse me, I wish for my captain to know what has been said.”
Savant turned away and led the other Frenchmen back to the bodies. Pierrot gave me a reassuring smile before following them. In their wake, Liam and Otter slipped over to join us.
I relayed all to our cabal. For the sake of the French, who would still have been in hearing of hearty laughter, our friends tried to suppress their amusement at my explanation of our attackers’ failure.
Throughout this, Gaston had been sitting with his knees hugged to his chest. When I finished, he touched Dickey’s arm and said earnestly, “Will shot a man behind him, a man with a musket aimed at me, before the man could fire. He will teach you, and you will win.”
“Well,” I added quickly, “it was aided great
ly in that Gaston moved when I told him to.”
“I believe you,” Dickey told Gaston. “I merely hope that I am up to the task of benefiting from Will’s instruction.”
“Well,” I said with a grin, “if I harbor any doubt as to your ability, we will enact a time-honored solution. One of us will challenge Tom to a duel set for this evening at sunset.”
This brought great amusement from all but Gaston and Dickey.
Pete raised his hand. “ISaw’ImFlirtin’ WithStriker.”
I laughed quietly. “We might have to do a bit better than that, but you understand the method.”
At further mention of matelots, I remembered that Dickey had one. “Where is the Bard? Does he know of this?” I asked.
Dickey gave a guilty shake of his head. “Francis is on the Queen still, as always. I hope word has not spread to him yet. I wished... I was going to go straight out and tell him, and then the French returned with word of where you were and I thought it prudent to secure your aid first.”
“You need not explain it to me,” I said kindly and clapped his shoulder. “I feel that was indeed the prudent course of action, as I do not know that we intended to return to the ships. I am sure the Bard will find it wise once you explain it to him.”
“You should stay with Will and Gaston and practice,” Striker said. “Would you have me tell him of it, so that he hears of it, and your reasons for not being the one to tell him, from a friend instead of through gossip?”
“Would you please?” Dickey said gratefully.
“Aye. And you two,” Striker addressed me, “should come in with him tonight.”
“Aye, I agree,” I said with a smile, “we need be there on the morrow to watch the duel. Then we can slip away again, not that we were so very successful this time.”
“That is what concerns me.” Striker shook his head. “Spend tonight on the ship. Then slip away after the duel if you must, but Will, only if you must. I feel you will be safer amongst us.”
I nodded sadly. “It is that bad?”
He shrugged. “This,” he indicated the bodies in the field, “won’t make it better. I don’t know if he speaks the truth for his men. We’ll need time to discover that.”
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