phantom knights 04 - deceit in delaware

by Amalie Vantana

  “Alas, we could not find tem,” Pierre said.

  Breathing out a sigh of such sweet relief caused Pierre to smile at me.

  His wife and daughter entered the house, carrying a bucket. When she came toward me with a wet cloth, she spoke.

  “I am to clean your wounds.”

  Raising my brows at Pierre, he nodded.

  Placing my hands on the table, I surrendered to her ministrations.

  Pierre introduced his wife as Jeanne, and his daughter was Violette. The little girl with the bright blue eyes watched her mother wrap my hands in clean bandages. Her gaze was clear, and I knew that she would be an intelligent one.

  When Jeanne was through wrapping my hands, I stuck my hand into my pocket and brought forth the little dog that I had been whittling for my own daughter’s birthday. Keeping it concealed in the palm of my hand, I brought both of my closed hands to rest upon the table.

  “May I give her a gift?” I asked Jeanne.

  She looked to Pierre, and then back to me and nodded.

  “Choose one,” I said to Violette.

  She inspected both of my hands for a moment, and then chose my right. Turning my hand over, I opened my fingers to reveal the dog.

  She smiled down at it and then at me. Placing it on the table, she picked it up tenderly.

  “Thank you, Monsieur.”

  “You are welcome, Violette.”

  Focusing upon Pierre, I told him what he needed to know. “My contact is waiting for me to come to him with either the name of the French spy or the body.”

  Jeanne and Pierre exchanged a glance.

  “What will you tell him?” Jeanne asked me.

  “That depends upon Arnaud.”

  That man, who looked to be Pierre’s elder brother, watched me closely.

  “If you leave England at once, I will give them this man here as their spy.” I pointed to the unmoving man upon the floor.

  “You would lie for us?” Jeanne asked.

  “No,” I told them, and three pairs of eyes bore into me. “For Arnaud will no longer be their spy. You will leave England, but you will not return to France. I cannot risk you giving away more of our secrets.”

  They stared at me for many long breaths, until Arnaud spoke, and then Jeanne translated.

  “He says that he is agreeable if it will keep his family safe. He is gaining in years and is tired of the life of a spy.” She turned her attention upon Pierre. “How will we pay for such a voyage?”

  “Leave that to me,” I told her. Then I focused upon Arnaud. “I am going to take this one to my contact, and if I find upon my return that you have run, your brother shall take your place as the spy.”

  Jeanne refused to translate my words, so Pierre did. Arnaud gave me a curt nod.

  Pierre assisted me to locate a wagon, tie up the French spy, and then place him in the bed of the wagon.

  I met my contact at the edge of Weymouth. He had my payment for the capture of the spy, which was a larger sum than I normally received.

  When I arrived back at Pierre’s house, they were all still there.

  Placing the money upon the table, I told Pierre to take it and leave the country. He tried to refuse, but I would not allow it. For his daughter I said.

  “Where are we to go?” Jeanne asked as she slammed a lid upon a trunk.

  “I hear that America is not particular in who they accept amongst them. Even French spies.”

  “The colonies?” Jeanne said it as if it were cursed.

  “Yes,” Pierre said.

  As I was about to take my leave, Arnaud and Pierre had a quick, heated conversation. When they were through, Pierre was looking grave.

  “Arnaud says tat he was not te only one tat knew yer name. He says it will not be long before tey find yer family.”

  Then there was only one thing for me to do. I had to get my family out of England.

  “I hear tat America is not particular in who tey accept,” Pierre told me.

  After a moment, I chuckled. “So it is said.” As I held out my hand, Pierre gripped it. “Perhaps we shall meet again one day.”

  “So we will,” Pierre said.

  ****

  When I arrived home to the farm, I had been expecting to find my family gone, but there they were to greet me. After kissing my wife, I whispered in her ear for her to pack all of our belongings into one trunk, for we were leaving at first light.

  Eleanora stared up at me, but she never questioned me about why we had to leave. Instead, she reminded me that Elisabeth’s birthday had been the week before. Having given away her gift, I had nothing of significance, except my father’s knife.

  Kneeling before her, she was my image in her tall body and brown hair and eyes, but the beauty to be found in her face belonged to her mother.

  Speaking in Danish, I said, “This belonged to my fader, and now it belongs to you. I expect you to treat it as if it were a priceless jewel.”

  “You have my word,” she said as she took the knife and balanced the weight in her hand.

  The following morning, we left at first light, traveling into the village where Eleanora directed me to the man who had been asking to buy our farm for years. The price was not as high as the land deserved but it would be enough.

  It was difficult for me to leave England behind. Leaving meant surrendering years of work. Years spent trying to build us a better life. I did not know what we would find in America, but I hoped that in a land that was known for its opportunities there would be a place for us. If not, I would create a place for us.

  Farmers and savages were how many of the English spoke of them. Both I could deal with. I had lived among farmers, had been one. Talk of savages did not bother me overmuch, for I had lived amongst a savage, and if he had not bested me, none in America would either. I was the provider for my family, and provide for them I would, even if it meant going about things in less than savory ways. I was prepared to lie, cheat, steal, and spy my way to a comfortable life. If it meant that Eleanora would finally have everything that she deserved, it would be worth the difficulty.

  The ship, The Lutania, was awaiting us in an out of the way port. I had found it, being captained by Karl, one of the former guards who had served with me in Lutania. When I had asked what he was doing in England, he had said that he had been sent out to find us, and he was ordered not to return to Lutania until he had accomplished his goal. At first I had suspected Luther’s hand, but Karl assured me that Luther had not been in Lutania for years. No one knew where he was to be found since the last time he arrived and dumped his son upon the king. A conversation that Luther and Eric had shared before Eric sent him away had come back to me. Eric had known that Luther had a son. When Karl spoke of Luther’s wife, and her mysterious death, I understood Eric’s desire to have the boy brought to Lutania.

  Karl and his crew had been traveling as smugglers, and when I told him my destination he was agreeable to the long voyage. He said that there was nothing awaiting him in Lutania, and that the ship belonged to me. That had taken me aback, but Karl explained that it was to be a wedding gift from King Eric and Queen Elisabeth. I did not understand that, until I realized that Eric was trying to make amends for my having to flee. He could not have me return to Lutania, but he could try to provide for me.

  One night while my family and I sat in the captain’s cabin, I told them that in America we would be known as the Martins. The children did not understand why, but Elisabeth did understand when I told them that Smith had never been our true name. She had suspected that some mystery surrounded our time in England.

  I told her that we were changing the spelling to her name to the more American way. Elizabeth. John would be known as Jack, which Elizabeth called him daily.

  When I spoke with Eleanora alone about why we had to leave England, she agreed that what we had done had been for the best. Neither of us spoke the words, but we both knew that Luther would not have wanted the children should he have succeeded in capturi
ng her. He may not have had them killed. He could have sold them. Which would have been the worse fate.

  She chose a new name, deciding upon Helen. I thought my own name over, but William was such a common name that I chose to keep it.

  Upon our arrival in America in the fall of eighteen hundred and four, we kept away from the port authorities, and the questions they would ask. Sailing along the coast for a few weeks, we finally decided upon a land called North Carolina. We arrived in the middle of the night.

  My wife and I had spoken at length about what to do with the ship, as Karl and the other men were anxious to explore America, not stay tied to a ship. I had wanted to sell it, but my wife thought it best to keep it. She said that we could turn it into a privateer, and have an income from the transporting of goods. She had been reading many books while in England, and she said that books about sea life had always fascinated her.

  She never ceased to impress me, my Nell. That was what I had taken to calling her.

  As I carried a sleeping Jack, and Nell assisted a tired Elizabeth down a deserted road toward the nearest town, we spoke of what we would do here. I told her that once I had them settled, I would see to making the ship a privateer. We found a public house that had a room for us for the night. Once my family was settled, I sat up to protect them as they slept. Listening to their breathing, and the occasional snore from my son, I was aware of a feeling of nostalgia. These people belonged to me, and I would do all within my power to deserve their faith in me.

  CHAPTER 13

  September 1805

  A year had passed since we arrived in America and in that time I had not accomplished nearly as much as I desired. It did not take us long after arrival to discover that there was little of worth to be found in North Carolina. I had bought us a cabin and some forty acres of land upon our second day in the country, and when we saw it, I knew that I had been swindled. The cabin was in disrepair and only twenty out of the forty acres could be used for farming land. The rest was forest and rocky inclines.

  It was my earnest will to leave the place at once and find a better situation, one where I could thrive, but Nell had fallen in love with the land upon first sight. She loved the hills and the green pastures. She even admired the hovel that had been described to me as a cabin. She did not want to move again, claiming that it was not good for the children, and if we did not begin setting up for the winter soon, we would find ourselves in dire circumstances.

  Finding men in the village to assist me in the repairs to the hovel cost the remainder of gold that Queen Elisabeth had given us when we left Lutania. I had not known that there had been any remaining, and Nell blushingly confessed to having hid it. She said that she was saving it for our children’s futures. Providing a house for them without holes for the wind to creep through was good enough for her to surrender the money.

  It was during that month of fixing the cabin that I met my first savage. As it happened, he was not savage at all. He spoke English, wore more than a loincloth, and traded honestly. With his assistance, I was able to trade wood for a bull, a cow, a goat, and a dozen chickens. The bull was lazy, the goat a nuisance, but the cow provided milk and the chickens kept us in eggs.

  He lived not far from our farm and had agreed to keep us in wood during the winter months.

  At the first sign of spring, I found Karl and made him sail me and my family to Charleston in South Carolina where I had heard that it was warmer.

  There we were able to locate a captain and crew to become privateers. After that, Nell wanted to return to the cabin instead of staying in Charleston, and so we had, but not before we picked up a passenger.

  One evening while we were in Charleston, I was surprised by a visitor. Pierre had found me. He was going by Pierre Travoy, and had found situations for himself and Arnaud, but they were not best pleased. Arnaud had become a butler in one of well-to-do homes that sprinkled Charleston. It was a feather in the mistress’s cap to have a French butler, placing her above her friends.

  Pierre had found work in a smithy, but when my family and I were leaving he decided to come with me. I did not introduce him to my family until several days had passed after our return to the cabin.

  Not even Nell knew who he was. One day I brought him home and told my family that not only was he going to help us with the planting, but he was also going to take over training the children. I had discovered Pierre’s talents, and I did not want to waste my opportunity to learn from him. Not only was Pierre a master with a sword, but he was also master at disguise. Having apprenticed under his wife’s father in the theater, he had discovered some interesting tricks. He knew how to make pastes, use powders and paint upon ones face and the end result was a masterpiece. Pierre could change his appearance with a few well-placed moles, powder, and paint. We began experimenting with changing someone’s entire appearance, not just the face and hair. How to move, walk, speak, and where to look. He taught me about bodily movements and what they meant, for there was a meaning behind every movement of the human body.

  Jack took to Pierre’s training with fervor, but Elizabeth, or Bess, as Jack called her, was hesitant and calculating in her movements.

  When she would catch me frowning after Jack had bested her during a fencing bout, or having missed three out of four targets, she changed her methods of study. I quickly learned that while Jack would succeed without any prompting, Bess would only try to succeed if my disapproval followed her losses. Instead of praising her skills, I began saying nothing when she succeeded, but rewarding her with the brunt of my disapproval if she were to lose. She would rather have my silence than my disapproval, and so she began succeeding in every training that Pierre put her way.

  A few evenings during the week, Pierre and I would travel to the town tavern. We discussed what was on many minds and lips. The war between England and France. Pierre assured me that Arnaud was no longer sending messages to France, but also that Arnaud was certain that the war would eventually travel back to American shores. If that were to happen, my family would be no safer in America than they had been in England.

  There was surely something that I could do to assist against the looming battle, but the way had not yet come into my path.

  Unwilling to spend another winter at the cabin, I told Nell that I wanted to do some traveling and that I wanted her and the children to accompany me. She refused. It was the first show of her will since our arrival in America, but it reminded me of the woman that I had met in Lutania.

  She did not want to uproot the children again, for they had made some friends with the neighboring farm’s children. I could not stay, and she knew that, so she told me to go so long as I returned to her in the end. Pierre agreed to remain behind to protect my family and assist Nell in the running of the farm.

  Riding the trails toward South Carolina on my horse, I was nearly overtaken by Indians and attacked by a bear. The bear had scared my horse into bolting, and I held on for the ride. The Indians had turned their attention upon the bear instead of me.

  When I reached the borders of South Carolina, I rode until I found a town that had a public house where I could find a room and a decent meal.

  It was during my stay in that place that my first glimpse of what I could do for the country came to me. While seated at my table, partaking of my roasted chicken, a fight broke out at a table behind me. Fights were common in the wilds of America so I paid it no heed until one of the men fell against my back. My chest had struck my plate and sent my chicken sliding to the dirty floor.

  Slamming down my fork, I rose and turned toward the fight. The barkeep was trying to break up the men who were calling each other cheats. Their table had been tipped over and there were cards and spilled tankards upon the floor. I was stepping forward to intervene when a knife appeared. I opened my mouth to shout out a warning, but the man lunged, stabbing his blade into the gut of the man being held back by the barkeep.

  The barkeep dropped the stabbed man to grab at the other, and I
moved forward to assess the damage. As I dropped to my knees beside him and got a look at how the knife was lodged, I knew that there was no hope for him.

  One of the patrons stood beside me, staring down at the gasping man.

  “Arnold ain’t no cheat. He’s military.”

  Pulling the knife from the man’s gut, he groaned out a cry. He used what strength he had to clasp my hand.

  “My son. Please. Take my son.”

  “Fetch me some brandy and cloth at once,” I ordered the man standing beside me. He bustled off and I focused my attention upon the dying man. His grip was slackening, but he fought to keep his eyes open.

  “My son. My son.”

  “You have a son,” I said, and he nodded. “Is he here?” I had not noticed a younger man about the place.

  “Home…”

  “Your son is at home. You want me to tell him what has happened to you.”

  “Take … c-care of … my boy.”

  That took me aback for a moment.

  “He’s … got … none … else.” His clasp tightened again as he rose up a little. “He’s … four.”

  My chest tightened at that information. Placing my free hand over his, I nodded. “What is the boy’s name?”

  “L-L-Levi…”

  That was the last word that the man spoke. When the man returned with the brandy and cloth, he noticed Arnold’s closed eyes and released a huff.

  Pushing myself to my feet, I turned to the man. “Do you know Arnold’s location?” The man did not, claiming that Arnold was not from these parts, and had only arrived a few days before, looking for work.

  The serving maid could offer me more information, for she had spent more time with him than any of the others. She said that he lived in a cabin some twenty miles away from where we were. She gave me the best directions that she could, but she could not give me his surname for he had never spoken it. As it was late, I waited until the following morning to set out for Arnold’s cabin.