A Place Called Freedom

by Ken Follett

  "I daresay you're right--he hasn't confided in me."

  Jay heard a knock at the front door and low voices as someone was admitted.

  "Who is he, anyway?"

  "I think I'll let him introduce himself."

  The door opened and in walked Jay's brother, Robert.

  Jay leaped to his feet, astonished. "You!" he said. "When did you get here?"

  "A few days ago," Robert said.

  Jay held out his hand and Robert shook it briefly. It was almost a year since Jay had seen him last, and Robert was getting more and more like their father: beefy, scowling, curt. "So it was you who loaned me the money?" Jay said.

  "It was Father," Robert said.

  "Thank God! I was afraid I might not be able to borrow more from a stranger."

  "But Father's not your creditor anymore," Robert said. "He's dead."

  "Dead?" Jay sat down again abruptly. The shock was profound. Father was not yet fifty. "How ...?"

  "Heart failure."

  Jay felt as if a support had been pulled away from beneath him. His father had treated him badly, but he had always been there, consistent and seemingly indestructible. Suddenly the world had become a more insecure place. Although he was already sitting down Jay wanted to lean on something.

  He looked again at his brother. There was an expression of vindictive triumph on Robert's face. Why was he pleased? "There's something else," Jay said. "What are you looking so damned smug about?"

  "I'm your creditor now," Robert said.

  Jay saw what was coming. He felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. "You swine," he whispered.

  Robert nodded. "I'm foreclosing on your mortgage. The tobacco plantation is mine. I've done the same with High Glen: bought up the mortgages and foreclosed. That belongs to me now."

  Jay could hardly speak. "You must have planned this," he said with a struggle.

  Robert nodded.

  Jay fought back tears. "You and Father ..."

  "Yes."

  "I've been ruined by my own family."

  "You've been ruined by yourself. You're lazy and foolish and weak."

  Jay ignored his insults. All he could think of was that his own father had plotted his downfall. He remembered how the letter from Murchman had come just a few days after his arrival in Virginia. Father must have written in advance, ordering the lawyer to offer a mortgage. He had anticipated that the plantation would get into difficulties and he had planned to take it back from Jay. His father was dead but had sent this message of rejection from beyond the grave.

  Jay stood up slowly, with a painful effort, like an old man. Robert stood silent, looking scornful and haughty. Murchman had the grace to act guilty. With an embarrassed look on his face he hurried to the door and held it for Jay. Slowly Jay walked through the hall and out into the muddy street.

  Jay was drunk by dinnertime.

  He was so drunk that even Mandy, the barmaid who was falling in love with him, appeared to lose interest. That evening he passed out in the bar of the Raleigh. Lennox must have put him to bed, for he woke up in his room the following morning.

  He thought of killing himself. He had nothing to live for: no home, no future, no children. He would never amount to anything in Virginia now that he had gone bankrupt, and he could not bear to go back to Britain. His wife hated him and even Felia now belonged to his brother. The only question was whether to put a bullet into his head or drink himself to death.

  He was drinking brandy again at eleven o'clock in the morning when his mother walked into the bar.

  When he saw her he thought perhaps he was already going mad. He stood up and stared at her, frightened. Reading his mind, as always, she said: "No, I'm not a ghost." She kissed him and sat down.

  When he recovered his composure he said: "How did you find me?"

  "I went to Fredericksburg and they told me you were here. Prepare yourself for a shock. Your father's dead."

  "I know."

  That surprised her. "How?"

  "Robert is here."

  "Why?"

  Jay told her the story and explained that Robert was now the owner of both the plantation and High Glen.

  "I was afraid the two of them were planning something like that," she said bitterly.

  "I'm ruined," he said. "I was thinking of killing myself."

  Her eyes widened. "Then Robert didn't tell you what was in your father's will."

  Suddenly Jay saw a gleam of hope. "Did he leave me something?"

  "Not you, no. Your child."

  Jay's heart sank again. "The child was stillborn."

  "A quarter of the estate goes to any grandchildren of your father born within a year of his death. If there are no grandchildren after a year, Robert gets everything."

  "A quarter? That's a fortune!"

  "All you have to do is make Lizzie pregnant again."

  Jay managed a grin. "Well, I know how to do that, anyway."

  "Don't be so sure. She's run away with that coal miner."

  "What?"

  "She left, with McAsh."

  "Good God! She's left me? And gone off with a convict?" It was deeply humiliating. Jay looked away. "I'll never live this down. Good God."

  "That child is with them, Peg Knapp. They took a wagon and six of your horses and enough supplies to start several farms."

  "Damned thieves!" He felt outraged and helpless. "Couldn't you stop them?"

  "I tried the sheriff--but Lizzie had been clever. She gave out a story that she was taking gifts to a cousin in North Carolina. The neighbors told the sheriff I was just a cantankerous mother-in-law trying to stir up trouble."

  "They all hate me because I'm loyal to the king." The seesaw of hope and despair became too much for Jay and he sank into lethargy. "It's no good," he said. "Fate is against me."

  "Don't give up yet!"

  Mandy, the barmaid, interrupted to ask Alicia what she would like. She ordered tea. Mandy smiled coquettishly at Jay.

  "I could have a child with another woman," he said as Mandy went away.

  Alicia looked scornfully at the barmaid's wiggling rear and said: "No good. The grandchild has to be legitimate."

  "Could I divorce Lizzie?"

  "No. It requires an act of Parliament and a fortune in money, and anyway we don't have the time. While Lizzie is alive it has to be her."

  "I've no idea where she's gone."

  "I do."

  Jay stared at his mother. Her cleverness never ceased to amaze him. "How do you know?"

  "I followed them."

  He shook his head in incredulous admiration. "How did you do that?"

  "It wasn't difficult. I kept asking people if they had seen a four-horse wagon with a man, a woman and a child. There's not so much traffic that people forget."

  "Where did they go?"

  "They came south to Richmond. There they took a road called Three Notch Trail and headed west, toward the mountains. I turned east and came here. If you leave this morning you'll be only three days behind them."

  Jay thought about it. He hated the idea of chasing after a runaway wife: it made him look such a fool. But it was his only chance of inheriting. And a quarter of Father's estate was a huge fortune.

  What would he do when he caught up with her? "What if Lizzie won't come back?" he said.

  His mother's face set in grim lines of determination. "There is one other possibility, of course," she said. She looked at Mandy then turned her cool gaze back on Jay. "You could make another woman pregnant, and marry her, and inherit--if Lizzie suddenly died."

  He stared at his mother for a long moment.

  She went on: "They're headed for the wilderness, beyond the law. Anything can happen out there: there are no sheriffs, no coroners. Sudden death is normal and no one questions it."

  Jay swallowed dryly and reached for his drink. His mother put her hand on the glass to prevent him. "No more," she said. "You have to get started."

  Reluctantly he withdrew his hand.
/>   "Take Lennox with you," she advised. "If worse comes to worst, and you can't persuade or force Lizzie to come back with you--he will know how to manage it."

  Jay nodded. "Very well," he said. "I'll do it."

  37

  THE ANCIENT BUFFALO-HUNTING TRACK KNOWN AS Three Notch Trail went due west for mile after mile across the rolling Virginia landscape. It ran parallel to the James River, as Lizzie could see from Mack's map. The road crossed an endless series of ridges and valleys formed by the hundreds of creeks that trickled south into the James. At first they passed many large estates like the ones around Fredericksburg, but as they went farther west the houses and fields became smaller and the tracts of undeveloped woodland larger.

  Lizzie was happy. She was scared and anxious and guilty, but she could not help smiling. She was out of doors, on a horse, beside the man she loved, beginning a great adventure. In her mind she worried about what might happen, but her heart sang.

  They pushed the horses hard, for they feared they might be followed. Alicia Jamisson would not sit quietly in Fredericksburg waiting for Jay to come home. She would have sent a message to Williamsburg, or gone there herself, to warn him of what had happened. Were it not for Alicia's news about Sir George's will, Jay might have shrugged his shoulders and let them go. But now he needed his wife to provide the necessary grandchild. He would almost certainly chase after Lizzie.

  They had several days' start on him, but he would travel faster, for he had no need of a wagonload of supplies. How would he follow the fugitives' trail? He would have to ask at houses and taverns along the way, and hope that people noticed who went by. There were few travelers on the road and the wagon might well be remembered.

  On the third day the countryside became more hilly. Cultivated fields gave way to grazing, and a blue mountain range appeared in the distant haze. As the miles went by the horses became overtired, stumbling on the rough road and stubbornly slowing down. On uphill stretches Mack, Lizzie and Peg got off the wagon and walked to lighten the load, but it was not enough. The beasts' heads drooped, their pace slowed further, and they became unresponsive to the whip.

  "What's the matter with them?" Mack asked anxiously.

  "We have to give them better food," she replied. "They're existing on what they can graze at night. For work like this, pulling a wagon all day, horses need oats."

  "I should have brought some," Mack said regretfully. "I never thought of it--I don't know much about horses."

  That afternoon they reached Charlottesville, a new settlement growing up where Three Notch Trail crossed the north-south Seminole Trail, an old Indian route. The town was laid out in parallel streets rising up the hill from the road, but most of the lots were undeveloped and there were only a dozen or so houses. Lizzie saw a courthouse with a whipping post outside and a tavern identified by an inn sign with a crude painting of a swan. "We could get oats here," she said.

  "Let's not stop," Mack said. "I don't want people to remember us."

  Lizzie understood his thinking. The crossroads would present Jay with a problem. He would have to find out whether the runaways had turned south or continued west. If they called attention to themselves by stopping at the tavern for supplies they would make his task easier. The horses would just have to suffer a little longer.

  A few miles beyond Charlottesville they stopped where the road was crossed by a barely visible track. Mack built a fire and Peg cooked hominy. There were undoubtedly fish in the streams and deer in the woods, but the fugitives had no time for hunting and fishing, so they ate mush. There was no taste to it, Lizzie found, and the glutinous texture was disgusting. She forced herself to eat a few spoonfuls, but she was nauseated and threw the rest away. She felt ashamed that her field hands had eaten this every day.

  While Mack washed their bowls in a stream Lizzie hobbled the horses so that they could graze at night but not run away. Then the three of them wrapped themselves in blankets and lay under the wagon, side by side. Lizzie winced as she lay down, and Mack said: "What's the matter?"

  "My back hurts," she said.

  "You're used to a feather bed."

  "I'd rather lie on the cold ground with you than sleep alone in a feather bed."

  They did not make love, with Peg beside them, but when they thought she was asleep they talked, in low murmurs, of all the things they had been through together.

  "When I pulled you out of that river, and rubbed you dry with my petticoat," Lizzie said. "You remember."

  "Of course. How could I forget?"

  "I dried your back, and then when you turned around ..." She hesitated, suddenly shy. "You had got ... excited."

  "Very. I was so exhausted I could hardly stand, but even then I wanted to make love to you."

  "I'd never seen a man like that before. I found it so thrilling. I dreamed about it afterward. I'm embarrassed to remember how much I liked it."

  "You've changed so much. You used to be so arrogant."

  Lizzie laughed softly. "I think the same about you!"

  "I was arrogant?"

  "Of course! Standing up in church and reading a letter out to the laird!"

  "I suppose I was."

  "Perhaps we've both changed."

  "I'm glad we have." Mack touched her cheek. "I think that was when I fell in love with you--outside the church, when you told me off."

  "I loved you for a long time without knowing it. I remember the prizefight. Every blow that landed on you hurt me. I hated to see your beautiful body being damaged. Afterward, when you were still unconscious, I caressed you. I touched your chest. I must have wanted you even then, before I got married. But I didn't admit it to myself."

  "I'll tell you when it started for me, Down the pit, when you fell into my arms, and I accidentally felt your breast and realized who you were."

  She chuckled. "Did you hold me a bit longer than you really needed to?"

  He looked bashful in the firelight. "No. But afterward I wished I had."

  "Now you can hold me as much as you like."

  "Yes." He put his arms around her and drew her to him. They lay silent for a long while, and in that position they went to sleep.

  Next day they crossed a mountain range by a pass then dropped down into the plain beyond. Lizzie and Peg rode the wagon downhill while Mack ranged ahead on one of the spare horses. Lizzie ached from sleeping on the ground, and she was beginning to feel the lack of good food. But she would have to get used to it: they had a long way to go. She gritted her teeth and thought of the future.

  She could tell that Peg had something on her mind. Lizzie was fond of Peg. Whenever she looked at the girl she thought of the baby who had died. Peg had once been a tiny baby, loved by her mother. For the sake of that mother, Lizzie would love and care for Peg.

  "What's troubling you?" Lizzie asked her.

  "These hill farms remind me of Burgo Marler's place."

  It must be dreadful, Lizzie thought, to have murdered someone; but she felt there was something else, and before long Peg came out with it. "Why did you decide to run away with us?"

  It was hard to find a simple answer to that question. Lizzie thought about it and eventually replied: "Mainly because my husband doesn't love me anymore, I suppose." Something in Peg's expression made her add: "You seem to wish I had stayed at home."

  "Well, you can't eat our food and you don't like sleeping on the ground, and if we didn't have you we wouldn't have the wagon and we could go faster."

  "I'll get used to the conditions. And the supplies on the wagon will make it a lot easier for us to set up home in the wilderness."

  Peg still looked sulky, and Lizzie guessed there was more to come. Sure enough, after a silence Peg said: "You're in love with Mack, aren't you?"

  "Of course!"

  "But you've only just got rid of your husband--isn't it a bit soon?"

  Lizzie winced. She herself felt this was true, in moments of self-doubt; but it was galling to hear the criticism from a child. "My husband hasn
't touched me for six months--how long do you think I should wait?"

  "Mack loves me."

  This was becoming complicated. "He loves us both, I think," Lizzie said. "But in different ways."

  Peg shook her head. "He loves me. I know it."

  "He's been like a father to you. And I'll try to be like a mother, if you'll let me."

  "No!" Peg said angrily. "That's not how it's going to be!"

  Lizzie was at a loss to know what to say to her. Looking ahead, she saw a shallow river with a low wooden building beside it. Obviously the road crossed the river by a ford just here, and the building was a tavern used by travelers. Mack was tying his horse to a tree outside the building.

  She pulled up the wagon. A big, roughly dressed man came out wearing buckskin trousers, no shirt, and a battered three-cornered hat. "We need to buy oats for our horses," Mack said.

  The man replied with a question. "You folks going to rest your team and step inside and take a drink?"

  Suddenly Lizzie felt a tankard of beer was the most desirable thing on earth. She had brought money from Mockjack Hall--not much, but enough for essential purchases on the journey. "Yes," she said decisively, and she swung down from the wagon.

  "I'm Barney Tobold--they call me Baz," said the tavern keeper. He looked quizzically at Lizzie. She was wearing men's clothing, but she had not completed the disguise and her face was obviously female. However, he made no comment but led the way inside.

  When her eyes adjusted to the gloom Lizzie saw that the tavern was one bare earth-floored room with two benches and a counter, and a few wooden tankards on a shelf. Baz reached for a rum barrel, but she forestalled him, saying: "No rum--just beer, please."

  "I'll take rum," Peg said eagerly.

  "Not if I'm paying, you won't," Lizzie contradicted her. "Beer for her, too, please, Baz."

  He poured beer from a cask into wooden mugs. Mack came in with his map in his hand and said: "What river is this?"

  "We call it South River."

  "Once you cross over, where does the road lead to?"

  "A town called Staunton, about twenty miles away. After that there's not much: a few trails, some frontier forts, then real mountains, that nobody's ever crossed. Where are you people headed, anyway?"

  Mack hesitated so Lizzie answered. "I'm on my way to visit a cousin."

  "In Staunton?"

  Lizzie was flustered by the question. "Uh ... near there."

  "Is that so? What name?"