Treasure

by W. A. Hoffman

  “Then we shall discover that information,” Sarah said with a desperate shrillness to her voice. “I am sure the Marquis will assist us. He can surely get mail in and out of England that our father’s men would not know of.”

  The Marquis nodded as this was translated.

  I looked to the rolled document Theodore had laid on the table. “That is surely the only way that will ever be seen.” I turned back to her. “But all that will take time, possibly years.”

  “Then we shall wait years,” she said. “Not that you need worry as much: Father will surely rescind his bounty on Gaston, once he knows he is a Marquis’ son.”

  There were many surprised faces about the table.

  She flushed with embarrassment. “I am sorry.”

  Pete was shaking his head.

  “Stop that,” Sarah growled at him. “You do that every time I say you should stay. What great battle plan do you have, then?”

  He stood. “Gettin’TheChessBoard.” He sniffed with hurt: either feigned or real, I could not tell.

  Striker awarded his wife a look that said there was much he would not say, and she covered her face with her hands and gave a ragged sob. Then she pushed herself to her feet and waddled after Pete.

  “Pete has a plan?” I asked.

  Striker nodded. “He won’t tell us of it, but he’s been thinking on it for days. Sarah is sure she won’t like it. I’m pretty sure she won’t like it. I’m not sure I will.”

  I was curious, and I looked to my matelot and found him curious, too.

  Pete returned with the chess board balanced on one hand and his other about Sarah. He handed the board to Striker and helped Sarah return to her seat. Then he took the board and set it in the middle of the main table, where the most people could see it. He leaned on the wood and rested on his elbows, so he could reach it from where he stood at the head.

  “ThisBeUs.” He pointed at the chiseled white pieces on his side of the board. “ThatBeThem.” He pointed at the black. “All’EreBePieces.”

  “All right,” Striker said and stood to get a better view from where he was at his matelot’s side. “So Sarah is the queen?”

  “Nay,” Pete said with a disappointed sigh. “SarahBeTheKing. The KingNotMoveMuch. ’EOnlyMoves OneSpaceAtATime.” He demonstrated this with the white king. “TheGameBeLost When’EBe Captured.”

  At Dupree’s worried expression, Gaston and I began translating. After our first awkward mutual utterance, we began to take turns.

  Pete picked up the queen and pointed at me. “WillBeTheQueen. TheQueenCanMove InAnyDirection AsFarAsSheWants. SheBeTheMost DangerousPiece. WillBeTheOneO’Us ThatCanBeALordAn’APirate.”

  He pointed at the Marquis and Theodore. “YouBeCastles. YouCan MoveFar. ButOnlyOneWay.”

  “GastonAnMeBeBishops. WeMoveADifferentWay ButWeCanMove JustAsFar.”

  “What am I?” Striker asked.

  Pete snorted and tossed him one of the knights. “YaBeAHorse. TheOther OneBeTheBrethren. YaDon’tMoveStraightOrFar. ButYaBe Dangerous ’CauseTheOtherMan FergetsHowYaMove. ’EBe Thinkin’StraightLines. But TheBrethrenBe AboutCrookedPeople. Men WhoWouldRob TheBlindBut Na’TakeMoney TaKillTheirOwn. TheyDon’t UnderstandThat.” He pointed at the black pieces.

  Pete looked about the table to see if we understood. I grinned at him with enthusiasm, for I felt hope again.

  He nodded at what he had seen in our faces, and shrugged. “TheRest A’YaBePawns. ButThatBeGood. PawnsBeImportant.”

  “Now,” he said, and snatched the white knight from Striker. He arranged the black pieces about the board, leaving the white pieces in their starting rows. “TheyBeenMovin’. FurMaybeAYear. AllTheWhile, WeNotBeenKnowin’ WeBeenPlayin’. WeBeWayBehind.

  “TheyGotMorePawns ThanWeGotPieces. WeKnowThatBeTheEarl.” He pointed at the black king. “An’ThatBeTheDamnCousin.” He pointed at the black queen sitting next to the king, in their starting positions behind a short row of pawns. “WeKnowOneO’ TheCastlesBeThat BastardWashington. AndOneO’The HorseBeModyford. WeTookAPawnLastNight. WeNa’Know WhoTheRestBe.” He waved his hand over the other black pieces.

  I looked at the black spread about the board and the white in its neat rows with the pawns in front. “They are already boxing us in.”

  “Aye,” Pete crowed triumphantly.

  He began to scoot the white pieces around, forming a phalanx of pawns around the queen, a knight, and both bishops, in the middle of the board. He arranged it so each piece could move easily from behind the pawns and potentially strike all the black pieces spread about the board, except for the king and queen. Then he arranged the pawns about our king so that it could move in two directions to escape, and placed the castles and a horse to guard it.

  “ThisBeUs.” He pointed at the white phalanx in the center and then Gaston, Striker, me, and himself. Then he indicated the women, Rucker, and Theodore. “ThisBeThemThat StayInPortRoyal. OrGoTaFrance.” He moved one of the castles all the way to the white starting line, where it put the black king in check.

  The Marquis nodded approvingly as I finished translating.

  Pete pointed at the phalanx of white again and began striking out with the pieces there, capturing one black piece after another until only a few pawns, the castles, and the king and queen remained.

  “WeNeedTaTake TheirPiecesOffTheBoard. WeGottaFind ’EmFirstThough. WeGotTaFlush’EmOut. WeGotTaGuard EachOther’sBacks. LikeBoardin’AShip. WhenWeGetDone. WeSeeIffn’EStill WantsTaPlay. If’EDoes WeGoFor’Im.”

  Sarah pushed her way to her feet again and began to leave the table.

  “Sarah?” Striker queried.

  “Look at you all, grinning like ghouls,” she said with tears forming in her eyes. “You will leave me here and go roving in the name of gaining a tactical advantage?”

  “He does not want you dead,” I said. “You will be safe unless we lose. Striker is safest amongst the Brethren.”

  She shook her head with frustration, her voice becoming shrill again. “Since our damn father has apparently been misguided enough to lay edict that I not be harmed, even though my husband is to be taken from me, Striker is safest at my side.”

  “As long as he does not leave this house,” I challenged. “Do you feel he will live well with that? Will you? And it will only be until Father decides his other methods have failed and he must attend to the matter himself. Not one damn man will raise a hand to stop him if he arrives here with a small army of mercenaries on one of the king’s good men of war. Pete is correct. We stand our best chance doing what we do best and killing them first. Meanwhile, you and Theodore and the Marquis can wage a more covert battle to discover who wants our damn father dead or disparaged as much as we do.

  “And,” I continued as more aspects of the matter revealed themselves to me. “We do not lose if you are taken. We stand a better chance of rescuing you if we are not here when and if our father arrives.”

  “Aye,” Pete said with a feral smile. “WeGetCaught WithOurPants Down, WeBeDead. TheyTakeYou WhileWeBeRovin’, WeJustRoveIn EnglandNext. WeGetYaBack.”

  Sarah ignored Pete, and glared at me as if she wanted me dead as much as our father, and turned away to the stairs.

  “Sarah,” Striker called and looked to Pete and hissed, “You go. You’re better with her when she’s thus.”

  “Naw. IBeTheOneThat Made’ErAngryThisTime,” Pete whispered back with a rueful shrug.

  Striker swore quietly and followed his wife.

  Vivian tugged at my sleeve. “So you will go roving and not go to this Negril place with me?” Her concerned gaze was locked on the chess board.

  “Nay,” I sighed. “I am sorry, but if this is the plan we follow, we will not go to Negril.”

  “But…” She gazed up at me earnestly and bit her lip. “Can we not simply go to France? Without killing anyone?”

  Gaston sighed.

  “Oui,” the Marquis said with enthusiasm as Dupree finished. “You could avoid all this. You would all be welcome.”


  Dupree thankfully translated for those who did not speak French, as I was busy watching my matelot, who had become suffused with guilt. I laid a hand on his shoulder, and he shook his head sadly.

  “Naw,” Pete said. “StrikerNa’Leave TheSea, An’IDon’tSpeakFrench.”

  “You do not speak English,” Vivian said, and cringed at what she saw in Pete’s eyes.

  I laid a hand on her shoulder and looked back to my matelot. He had met his father’s earnest gaze.

  Gaston shook his head sadly and stood. “I am sorry, I cannot.” He left us and retreated to the stable.

  I looked to the Marquis apologetically and said, “Not yet.”

  “I do not wish to…” Theodore sighed. He met my curious gaze. “There is the other matter. Gaston should not go to France.”

  I struggled to remember what he spoke of, and then I did. I looked to the Marquis. “And though we now trust you greatly, he cannot set foot on French soil until the matter of his competence is resolved.”

  The Marquis frowned with surprise as if he, too, struggled to remember what I spoke of; and then he shook his head irritably and began to protest.

  “What if something befalls you before it can be righted?” I asked. “There are presumably those who would not wish for you to have an heir.”

  He sighed and slumped back in his chair to nod with solemn understanding. “You are correct. I have put him in a sad position should he return to France without me; and there are those who were pleased when my sons died, as it meant I did not have an heir.”

  “Please make clearing his name your first order of business upon returning.” I stood to follow my matelot.

  “Of course,” the Marquis said with irritation, and then he gazed up at me and frowned with compassion. “You need not worry about that.”

  “Then can I go to Negril?” Vivian asked, oblivious to all but her own concern – though in fairness, she had not understood the French conversation.

  “Nay,” I said quickly. “Not alone.”

  “I can take Henrietta,” she said with determination.

  I could not picture that, and then I could. “Nay! It is too dangerous. The Devil with all this.” I indicated the chess board. “You could be raped, robbed, and killed by the crew of any passing ship that happened to see the smoke from your cook fire. And all the water must be hauled up from the bog. Nay. Nay.”

  She took a ragged breath, her eyes desperate. “Then can we rebuild the house I burned?” She cringed and looked away with shame. The baby was waking, probably sensing her mother’s unease. Vivian jiggled the baby to quiet her, and only succeeded in disturbing her more. I thought both of them would be wailing at any moment.

  “Nay,” Theodore said. “The property belongs to Will’s father.”

  Vivian swore and looked up at me with pleading eyes again. “But I cannot. I cannot live here. I just cannot.” The baby began to wail.

  I struggled to think of another solution. “I am sorry. I fear you will have to. We will try to come up with an alternative, but this seems best.”

  “Nay,” she sobbed. “Are you trying to drive me to drink?” She stood and hurried to the stairs.

  I watched her climb them and run down the hall to her door, which she slammed upon entering. It did little to mute the baby’s now frantic cries.

  “Does she hate us?” Agnes asked.

  “Nay,” I said. “She fears all hate her.”

  “She can come and live with us,” Rachel said, and gave Theodore a look that would brook no argument.

  He nodded pleasantly. “That will be lovely.”

  Rachel smiled at her husband with great love and kissed his forehead before following Vivian up to her room.

  “I am sorry, Theodore,” I said. “For everything.”

  He smiled. “I am not.” He turned to look at me. “I will not have any regrets no matter how I am judged in the end.”

  “Thank you,” I breathed. I looked at the others. “Thank you all.”

  I felt I had stood at a table with them and said that before. I felt I would ever be saying that, because anyone who befriended us would always be inconvenienced in some fashion.

  Rucker grinned. “Nay, thank you; after a life of reading about the battles of kings and queens…” He raised the black king piece. “I find amusement I am finally party to one.”

  I smiled. “At least we serve some purpose.”

  “We should have more pawns here who can shoot,” Agnes said as she shoved chess pieces around the board.

  “Aye, you should,” I said. I could hear the winds howling in my head again.

  My gaze fell across Christine. She was studying the table with a frown, her finger tracing the same whorl in the wood over and over again. I wondered if she heard winds howling in her head.

  “Will?” Theodore queried.

  “What?” I asked and turned to him. For a frantic moment I wondered how long I had been watching Christine’s finger.

  “Are you well?” he asked.

  I glanced around. Pete, Rucker, and the Marquis were watching me with concern.

  “Nay,” I said. “I am… I need to see to Gaston. It has been a very trying time for us. We really wished to retreat to Negril.”

  This elicited frowns, and even Christine looked up to gaze at me with concern.

  I was afraid I would say something else I should not. I nodded at them and walked away, forcing myself not to run to the stable.

  I found Gaston sitting with the puppies. He looked up at me with sadness and calm, and I dropped to sit beside him and take his hand.

  “I am afraid,” I whispered. “That we will lose. That I will lose you, and on the way to losing you, we will lose everyone.”

  He nodded solemnly and handed me a puppy. “I am afraid the Gods do not know we play chess.”

  Seventy

  Wherein We Seek Peace

  We shed our fine clothes and donned our buccaneer garb, and lay in the straw and smelled puppies and allowed Bella to clean our faces and hands. The winds receded as I concentrated on the reassuring smells of milk breath and dogs. After a time, I calmed, and then I realized my matelot had retreated even farther than the stable, into the mien of the Child. I wished to go with him, but I did not know how.

  “Can horses sit?” he asked, as he placed a puppy on my chest, and arranged my hand about it with earnest concentration: as if the little bundle being sheltered and not rolling away were the most important thing in the world.

  “Non,” I said. “Not by choice. If their arse is upon the ground and their front legs are straight, it is because they have fallen or they are ill.”

  This seemed to sadden him. “And they do not lie down to sleep?”

  “Non, very few horses lie on their sides upon the ground to sleep. A grown horse lies on the ground only if it is ill or birthing. Foals and even colts will sometimes lie on their sides to sleep, but often they will lie like a cow does, with their legs folded beneath them.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “How do centaurs sleep?”

  “How do you want them to sleep?” I asked.

  “I am very tired, Will,” he sighed, such that it made my heart ache. “I would like to lie beside you for a time. Like colts do, or goats, or bulls, I suppose, with my legs beneath me so that I can rise quickly if there is need.”

  “Then you should rest, my love,” I whispered. “Lie beside me and watch over us, but rest. I will watch too, and I swear, if danger approaches I will find my feet.”

  “I know you will,” he said with a warm smile, and moved to lie beside me with his head cradled in the hollow of my shoulder.

  I saw us as centaurs, kneeling side by side in the traces on a steep road, with dark forest all about and wind howling in our faces. But we had one another’s warmth; and though the cart creaked in the gale, it did not roll. The vision gave me strength and set me at peace.

  “I think we should geld the puppies when we return,” he said sometime later. “And Taro. I lov
e puppies, but we cannot have them all the time. There will be too many for us to feed, and I will not give them away to have them misused. I am afraid of what will happen to these if we do not return.”

  “So am I,” I breathed. I felt my peace and calm begin to crumble, but I knew he needed to speak: that it was part of his request to lie beside me. “What else are you afraid of?”

  “I am afraid of leaving children behind,” he said thoughtfully. “I do not wish to have a child born of my seed that I will not be there to grow. I should not get Christine with child before we sail. Not until all this is behind us.”

  “You should perhaps not fret on that,” I assured him. “There is no guarantee you will get her pregnant even if you do marry her before we sail. Not every seed finds fertile soil in a woman. Not all babies are conceived as Sarah’s was. It can take weeks or months, even for the diligent.”

  “I have thought that,” he sighed. “I feel my father shall be disappointed. I wish he did not need to worry, though.” He pushed himself up to one elbow to gaze at me earnestly. “How feel you of Pete’s plan?”

  I sighed and allowed myself to think on it, to recall what I had felt while Pete revealed it. “I think he is correct. I do not think we will be safe here. We must fight. And I am dismayed to admit I feel this will be but the first battle of a war. I attempted a treaty, and I feel it has failed. But… That is not true, as the enemy has not even received my offer yet: it has only been rejected by his agents, and they are, perhaps, misguided.”

  “So we will feint in order to keep his forces busy while an ambassador delivers the treaty and sues for peace,” Gaston said. With the Child’s mien about him, it seemed as if he were a precocious boy discussing the dealings of men.

  It made me feel as if I were a very old man explaining the workings of the world. And I felt other things as well, listening to my soul in this quiet place with him. “Oui, but… If I listen to my heart… I feel the treaty was the feint. I feel the war is inevitable, and that is perhaps the major source of the gravel strewn before me. I so wish to go to Negril and escape it all, but I am afraid Negril is not far enough – no place will ever be.”