After another eternity he found another room he sought, and here discovered the trampled remains of an elderly white woman, and what must have been two children. The sight brought his heart and his stomach welling to his throat. But these were not his. Of that he was sure.
He found himself once again on the main staircase, his stomach rolling, his mind whirling. Where Robert still stood, and stared.
'You'd free these things,' he said.
Matt looked at his cousin, and at Georgiana. 'Why have you not buried her?'
'Buried her? That would be blasphemy, where I cannot bury them all.' At last he raised his head. 'Sue?'
'Not there. Neither are Tony or Richard, I'm sure.'
'By God,' Robert said. 'By God.'
For if death had been so terrible, in the hands of rebels who had so much and so long to avenge, it was impossible to consider life.
'Neither is Monsieur Corbeau.' Ledon stood in the doorway. 'They would have wished him to die even more slowly than madame. He should be here.'
Robert turned and went outside. Here, the air which their lungs had all but rejected an hour ago was now sweet and clean, by comparison. And as it was approaching noon, the clouds were sweeping lower, occasionally obliterating the sun, bringing a suggestion of damp.
They went down the drive, and through the great iron gates. Here the air was clean, and they could even bear to look at each other. Beyond the trees, the overseers' village had been burned to the ground. But the slave village was unharmed, and so, amazingly, was the factory. And above the factory there circled other crows.
Matt ran, heart bouncing around his chest, saliva mixing with threatening vomit, groin feeling weak and empty. The two older men followed more slowly. Perhaps they feared to be present when he discovered what he sought.
He burst into the shade of the great chimney and the huge vats, and was guided by his nostrils. And perhaps by instinct. For what was the most terrible death a slave, who had spent his life on a sugar plantation, could wish on his master? He climbed the ladder to the first of the rollers, and paused, and lost his balance for a moment, in sheer horror. Only Corbeau's head remained, the chin resting on the drum of the upper roller. The rest of his body had been fed through the rotating iron drums. From the expression on the tortured face, he had been alive when the torment had commenced. And across the twisted features there lay a thin golden chain, ending in a golden charm representing a hawk's beak.
Matt climbed down the ladder, slowly, gained the ground. Robert and Ledon waited for him. And the rain began to fall, a gentle patter on the factory roof, a gentle thudding on the dry ground outside.
'We have been here two hours,' Ledon said, and crossed himself. 'It is too long messieurs. And what can we do?'
'I will not leave until I have at least found Suzanne's body,' Matt said.
'Monsieur,' Ledon begged, and turned to Robert. 'Monsieur. She could have fled from the chateau, and been slain in the trees. This plantation covers several square miles. We could search for days. Or she may have been carried off by the rebels, for... for some purpose of their own.'
Robert sighed, and scratched the back of his head. 'The fellow is right, Matt We do no good by standing here. We but risk our own lives.'
'And our lives are of value?' Matt demanded. 'Both your sisters, all your nephews, all your hopes, indeed, lying here rotting?'
'Aye. Well, you are yet young, Matt. It is remarkable how a wheel can turn a circle. You'll yet marry, and have children.'
'Is that all you can think about?' Matt demanded. 'An heir for your wealth?'
'It makes more sense than standing here, aimlessly remembering,' Robert said. 'My grief is not less than yours, boy. But grief were best combated by activity. We'll regain the ship.'
He turned, and limped for the river. Ledon hesitated for a moment, and then turned and followed. Matt watched them go for some seconds. Of course every word Robert had spoken was true. He accomplished nothing by standing here. He could only attempt to live again.
He left the factory, felt the rain splashing on his hat, dampening his shoulders. In time the rain would wash all these bones clean. In time the rain might even clean Rio Blanco.
He checked, because Robert, fifty yards in front of him, and just approaching the trees which lined the river, had also checked, as had Ledon, equidistant between them. He felt a sudden lurch of his own heart, a constriction of his own belly. He had seen enough this morning to understand that capture by the insurgents was a totally unthinkable fate. But there, beyond his cousin, stood the fluttering red gown of the mamaloi.
'By God,' Robert said. 'By God.' He plucked the pistol from his belt.
'Would you die, Robert Hilton, slowly?' Gislane asked.
'By God,' Robert said. The pistol barrel remained lodged.
Matt ran forward, feet scuffing the damp earth, stopped beside Robert, stared at the woman as she pulled the red turban from her head, allowed her midnight hair to uncoil on to her shoulders.
'Christ in Heaven,' he whispered.
'Do you not recognize me, Matt? I recognized you, the moment you landed from your ship.'
‘You were here, then?' Robert asked.
'My people have watched your ship, sailing along the coast. We knew whose ship it was, Mr. Hilton. We knew you would come to Rio Blanco.'
'You were at Cap Francois,' Matt said.
‘Yes, Matt. I must lead my people.'
'And you let us just walk into your trap,' Ledon muttered. 'My God ...' he turned, looked at the black men, who stood all around them. 'My God, messieurs.'
Gislane came forward, her gown darkening as the rain splashed on it, her hair glistening. It occurred to Matt that she had not changed at all, in twelve terrible years. But, oh, yes, she had changed. He found it impossible to gaze into those eyes.
'I do not understand,' he said.
Gislane stood immediately before them. 'It is very simple, Matt. Corbeau heard of me, sought me, and brought me here. I have lived on Rio Blanco for six years, as his mistress, as Georgiana's personal attendant. As her lover, indeed. It was Corbeau's conception of amusement, and he did enjoy being amused. But it was more than that. He explained it to me, that I was his weapon, to destroy you, as and when he chose. He was a man who planned very completely.' The lips widened into what might have been a smile. 'He called my name as he died, as I dangled my chain, his present, his badge of ownership, into his mouth.'
'By God,' Robert said. 'And what would you do with us?'
Gislane turned her eyes towards him. 'Aye, Mr. Hilton, you should ask that question. You left me once; ded to a triangle, at the mercy of Janet Hodge. And with an even grimmer prospect facing me - that of being sold to a Dutchman. Tell me why I should not tie you to a triangle and apply red pepper to your body, and then flog you to death. I have dreamed of doing that, to you, Mr. Hilton.'
'By God,' Robert muttered.
'Or even you, Matt,' she said. 'If Corbeau could find me, then so could you. Had you wished.'
'I ...' Matt bit his lip. 'And so you reserved Sue for some special torture.'
Gislane's nostrils dilated. 'Yes, Matt,' she said, suddenly fierce. 'I reserved her for that, in my mind, as I reserved Georgiana, as I reserved Corbeau himself. But I am a poor, weak creature, after all. I could do no more than turn away, and leave them to my people.'
'Which was sufficient,' Matt said. 'But I would see her body, before I die. And the bodies of my children.'
'Her body.' Gislane said. 'Then come.'
She walked through the trees, and the three white men followed. With them went their black captors. They walked, following the river, through the canefields and beyond. It was difficult to estimate how long they walked, but their muscles ached and their feet were sore when at last they again came to trees, and the Negro encampment.
'By God,' Robert said. 'But this is an army.'
For here were sentries, and then stacks of arms, with exhausted men, and women, lying beside them. Here
were rows of hobbled horses, restless under their new ownership. Here were women baking and men slaughtering cattle and smoking the meat. And here were children playing, and dogs barking, and chickens scratching in the dirt.
'Did they wear uniforms, and have white skins,' Gislane said, 'would you sound so surprised? But you are wrong in describing us as an army, Mr. Hilton. We are a people. And this is your woman, Matt.' For Sue had scrambled to her feet at their approach, the dough she had been kneading still in her hands, her sons at her side. Their clothes were torn and dirty, Sue's hair straggled in knots on her back, but she stood erect, and the only suffering was in her eyes.
'Sue.' Matt ran forward, stopped in front of her.
'They said you would come,' she said.
'Tony. Dick.'
'Papa.'
They leapt into his arms, and he held them close, stared at the woman. 'And you?'
Her shoulders rose and fell. 'I am unharmed, Matt. Believe that.'
Gislane stood at his shoulder. 'Would you take her back, Matt, had she been raped?'
'I would take her back, had you cut off her head,' he said.
Gislane sighed. 'So there, madame, you have a man who loves. I would not have saved her for you, Matt. I would have hanged her beside her sister, and taken the same burning brand to them both. In my mind. I would certainly have left her to my people. But no doubt she is blessed, by being Matt Hilton's wife.'
Matt gazed at Sue, and watched her eyes move. He followed her glance, and looked at the huge young Negro, his cocked hat set at a jaunty angle, his sabre incongruous against the cotton of his pants.
‘I saw you, also, at Cap Francois.'
‘I was there, Mr. Hilton,' Christophe said, in English.
'And you saved Mistress Huys?'
‘I saved Suzanne,' Christophe said, carefully. 'For my bed? No, no, Mr. Hilton. I saved her because she looked at me, as a man, and not a thing. And I saved her again, because she told me she was your woman, and that you were the white man who brought a planter to the gallows. Are you that man, Mr. Hilton?' 'Aye,' Matt said.
'And now you wonder if you have done the right thing? Justice is ever right, Mr. Hilton.' 'You call this, justice?'
'Is it not. Mr. Hilton? As you indicted Hodge, must you not have investigated his crimes, and the crimes of his father and grandfather? I will tell you this, Mr. Hilton. Hodge was an entirely innocent man beside the crimes of Louis Corbeau, and his father, and grandfather. Oh, yes, Mr. Hilton. This was justice.'
'And my sister?' Robert demanded. 'What was her crime against you?'
'You mean Madame Corbeau? Her crime was against Gislane, certainly. But she was criminal in being Madame Corbeau. That is the way of life.'
Robert stared at him for some seconds, then shrugged. 'Yet are you lost, black man. My young fool of a cousin here was endeavouring to help you, all of you. He even persuaded me to assist him in that aim, or the folly of my brother planters forced me to it. It is all naught now. When the news of what has happened in St. Domingue reaches Europe, the hand of every white man will be turned against you, against every Negro in the West Indies. You have done your race no service.'
'On the contrary, sir,' Christophe said. 'I have reminded my race that we are men, like you, and not less so. We would not have our freedom from your charity. We will have it because it is a human right.'
'And when the warships come, and the armies?' Matt asked.
'We will fight them also.'
'As you fought before Cap Francois? Your hougan is dead. His head sits atop the wall you would capture. Will your people follow you now?' Robert was scornful.
Christophe smiled. 'Boukman was a symbol. Symbols are necessary, Mr. Hilton, to make a people act as one. Now the time for symbols is past. We will fight, because we dare not stop. And for that very reason, we will win. And it is because I have no doubt of that outcome, Mr. Hilton, that I give you your life, and I give you back your woman and her children, unharmed. You are my first act of charity, as a victor.'
'And Gislane?' Matt asked.
'Gislane does whatever she wishes.'
Matt turned to her. 'To stay here is to die. You must know that.'
'You would offer me a home?' she asked. 'You, Matt?'
He hesitated. "No. Not now. I would offer you transport, back to England, perhaps.'
'And what would I do there, Matt? My home is here. My people are here. My fight is here. I will die here.' She looked at Sue. 'Madame, your family wronged me. I forgive you for that. I wish you joy of your life with Matt.' She turned and walked into the crowd of blacks.
'You will leave this place,' Christophe said. 'I give you two hours of safety. When next we meet, if it should happen, it will be as enemies. Until after our victory. Then you may return, Matt Hilton, and you Madame Suzanne, and you will be my guests. I give you my word.'
He turned and followed his mamaloi.
Ledon snatched the pistol from his belt. 'At least we may settle one of them.'
Robert struck the arm down. 'Are you mad? You would die, for one thing. And he has played the man, this day at least, for another.' He took the pistol from the seaman's fingers, placed it on his own belt. 'Let us leave the place.'
'And go where?' Matt asked.
'Why, back to Hilltop. Eh, lads?' He seized Tony and Dick's hands, walked towards the canefields. ' 'Tis a strange old world. But Hilltop is your home. You'll not forget that.'
'We are for England,' Matt said.
Robert stopped. 'Eh? Now, what madness is this, by God?'
'You were right, just now, in saying that all Europe will be roused against the blacks. But Christophe was no less right, in claiming his freedom as a right. I have done all I can, here. I will join Tom, and we will continue our efforts before Parliament,'
'By God,' Robert said. 'By God. And you suppose you will be any more successful there?' 'Given time,' Matt said.
'By God,' Robert said. 'And you?' He glared at his sister.
'The pair of you have spent my life posing me that question. I will go with Matt.'
'By God,' Robert said. 'By God. That any man could be so cursed...'
'I will go with Matt,' Sue said again. 'Because I love him. In a way I never knew, before. But because too, I know he is right now. And I was never sure of that before either.'
'Right?' Robert shouted. 'Having seen your sister slaughtered by these devils? Having been their prisoner...'
'Aye,' she said. 'Having lived with them. And discovered that they are men, and women, and children, like me and mine. I will go with Matt.' She walked away from him, her hand in Matt's towards the pale-watered river.
'By God,' Robert said. 'By God.' He rubbed Tony's head. 'Cursed you are, lad. Like me. With mad people for parents. But you'll be back, lad. Aye, and your brother. You've heat in your blood, and sugar.' He looked around him. 'And you've a deal to do.'
THE END
Mistress of Darkness Page 53
