'She is no better than she should be. And that is true enough. Yet did she volunteer to testify for me.'
'And changed her mind,' Cartarette said. 'I am not surprised she chose to ride with your brother, instead of remaining in town.'
He smiled at them. 'I am outnumbered. Yet with Tony in a savage mood, who can tell what may be happening while we dine the night away . . .' He paused to watch the Governor's secretary enter the room.
'Lomas,' said the earl. 'What news?'
Lomas wore a worried frown. 'A rider, from Captain Painter's platoon, your Excellency.'
'From Hilltop, you mean?'
'No, your Excellency. Captain Painter has not gone to Hilltop.'
'What?' Dick was on his feet.
Lomas studied the hastily written note. 'They are halted by a messenger from Plantation Golden Acre, my lord. Mr Reed says his house is being surrounded by a mob of blacks.'
'Eh?' Belmore wore an expression of complete bemusement. 'Surrounded? Blacks?’
'May we have the man in, your Excellency?' asked Colonel Barraclough.
'Oh, indeed. Indeed. As long as he does not frighten the ladies.'
Lomas snapped his fingers. He had apparently been expecting this decision. The trooper's red coat was stained with dust, his face with sweat. He stood to attention.
'At ease, man. At ease,' Barraclough said. 'What took place out there?'
'Well, sir . . .' The soldier inhaled. 'First of all there were conch shells, sir. All about us, but mostly in the north.' 'Conch shells?' Cartarette inquired.
'They use them as the people in Haiti use their drums,' Dick explained. 'For the sending of messages. What messages?'
'Well, sir, we did not know. Then. But at Eastside village, where the mountains begin, we halted, and inquired of the headman. Oh, afraid he was, sir. Afraid.'
'Of what, man?' Belmore shouted.
'Well, sir, your Excellency, it seems the conches started the moment the Reverend Strong was arrested this morning. It seems the people had been afraid this might happen, and had been already agitated. Why, sir, a dozen of the young men at Eastside had already gone north.'
'But those are free blacks,' the Governor protested.
'This man, Strong, has a large congregation there,' Barraclough said.
'My God,' said the Governor. 'My God. Well, go on, man.'
'Yes, sir, your Excellency,' the trooper said. 'Well, the captain decided to continue, but about three miles farther on we were met by this bookkeeper, sir, from Golden Acre. It seems the Reverend Strong had been allowed to preach there, your Excellency. And when the conches started this afternoon the slaves came out of the fields without being bid. Mr Reed sent one of the bookkeepers amongst them, sir, with a whip, and he was dismounted and beaten, sir.'
'My God,' Belmore said. 'My God.'
'Then they set fire to the village,' the trooper said. 'Mr Reed retreated to the Great House, with the rest of his white people, but sent this one man for help. Well, sir; your Excellency, Captain Painter decided he could nothing less than ride out there. But he sent me back to town to inform your Excellency of the situation.'
'But why Golden Acre?' Suzanne asked. 'Was not Strong sent out to Hilltop?'
'Indeed he was, Mrs Hilton,' Barraclough said. 'But he will have no congregation there. As a runaway he would not have dared return. Even had he not been a runaway, I do not suppose Tony Hilton would have given the necessary permission. No, no, Strong's people axe to be found in the north and west.' He turned to the Governor. 'Your Excellency, I would like to take a squadron out there. This thing must be nipped in the bud. Or it may very well spread.'
'If it has not already done so,' Harris remarked.
'Well, sir, your Excellency,' said the trooper. 'I saw flames when I was riding back. Far away, they was, but it could have been Plantation Rivermouth.'
'My God,' Belmore said. 'Flames? The house, you mean?'
'Well, no, sir, your Excellency. It looked more like the fields.'
'Aye.' Barraclough was on his feet. 'They'll start with the cane.'
Dick had remained standing. 'Then what of Hilltop?'
Barraclough hesitated. 'Well, sir, Mr Hilton, there is no report of violence on Hilltop, as yet. And we know the people there do not attend Strong's church . . .'
'Yet will the contagion spread to them,' Harris repeated. 'They have no cause to love Tony Hilton.'
'Oh, my God,' Suzanne said.
'He has a large force of bookkeepers, Mrs Hilton,' Belmore said.
'He also has Strong,' Dick said. 'Is not the way to end this trouble to show the blacks that their parson is not under arrest, after all?'
Barraclough hesitated. 'True, I could send some men . . .'
'And what of Kingston, sir?' Belmorc demanded. 'Kingston must be defended.'
Barraclough chewed his lip.
'And it must be done quietly, for the time,' Suzanne said. 'If these people hear there is a slave revolt on even one plantation, there will be a panic'
'Aye,' Barraclough said. 'That is true enough.'
'You must go to Golden Acre,' Cartarette said. 'With what men you can spare. There may be a massacre.'
'A massacre?' Belmore cried. 'My God. In Jamaica?'
'Aye,' Harris said. 'When you tamper with a man's religion you hurt him more than when you take a stick to his back.'
'Take your men, Colonel,' Dick said. 'Ride to Golden Acre. I'll get out to Hilltop, and bring Strong into town.' He glanced down at his mother. 'It is the only way, Mama. Strong is the only way we can stop tins business before it becomes a full scale revolution. Even Tony must see that.'
Barraclough looked doubtful. 'I can spare no men, Mr Hilton.'
'I don't need men,' Dick said. 'We have just established that there is no riot at Hilltop, as yet. Nor will there be if I get there in time.'
'Well . . .' Barraclough stroked his chin. 'Of course you are right, Dick,' Suzanne decided. 'I will come with you.'
'You, Mama? But. . .'
'But nothing. It is thirty years since I have visited Hilltop. Too long.'
'A ride in the dark?'
'We will take a carriage. You can provide one, my lord?' 'Of course. But really, Mrs Hilton . . .' 'I must be there, don't you see, or my sons will merely fight.' 'Your mother is right, Dick,' Cartarette said. 'And I will come too.'
'You?' he cried. 'But. . .'
'For ten years you have regaled me with tales of the splendour of your home. Do you not suppose I am anxious to see it?'
'But what of the children?'
Cartarette looked at John Mortlake.
'Oh, indeed, Mrs Hilton. They will be taken care of.'
'And we shall be back tomorrow,' Cartarette said. 'Will we not, Mr Hilton?'
'Of course, but. . .' Dick looked at the Governor.
'Ladies, riding out into the country, after dark,' the earl said. 'When there is riot about. Oh, no, no. We cannot tell how far the contagion may have spread . . .'
'My lord,' Suzanne said, getting up. 'We are discussing my plantation and my family. The contagion has not spread this far, that is plain. If Colonel Barraclough is taking his men to the west, and we are riding north, he will be between us and any rioters. And I do assure you, we are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves.'
'Yet may you need support,' Harris said. 'I will accompany you.' He glanced at his wife. 'There will be no danger, as Mrs Hilton says. But even less if we are sufficiently strong.'
'He's right, Mr Hilton,' Barker agreed. 'I'll come too, if you'll have me.'
'Why, you are more than welcome,' Dick said. 'But I do not see why you should be involved . . .'
Harris grinned at him. 'Man, Mr Hilton, Hilltop is my principal client.'
'Settled, then,' Suzanne said. 'If you'll provide a carriage, my lord, my daughter-in-law and I will change our clothes.'
'And we'll get some weapons,' Harris said.
'Aye.' Barraclough was already at the door. 'I'll turn out my m
en and ride for Golden Acre.'
'Bless my soul,' said the earl, still sitting at the head of the table. 'Bless my soul. Who'd have thought it, in Jamaica.'
Dick caught up with Cartarette at the door. 'Are you sure you know what you do? I had supposed we had done with fighting.'
She smiled at him, kissed him on the chin. 'You, finish with fighting? Besides, we are not going to fight, Dick. We are going to stop a fight. And we are going to claim our home. I'll not have it burned before I even see it.'
'You'll take no chances.' Barraclough sat on his horse beside the carriage, his troopers waiting at his back. The air was chill, and the first cock had already begun to crow; it had taken an interminable time to prepare the carriage. 'There are half a dozen muskets and an ample supply of powder. And you have your pistols.'
'We'll take care,' Dick agreed.
'Aye, well, supposing the trouble at Golden Acre is less serious than we suppose, or that we manage to put a stop to it soon enough, we'll come over to Hilltop to see how things are progressing.' He leaned from the saddle to look into the interior of the coach. 'God speed you, ladies.'
'He will, Colonel, as our cause is just,' Suzanne said. She was in a state of high excitement, Dick realized. Partly no doubt from being back in Jamaica at all. But equally because she was adventuring, recapturing some of her youth. Cartarette on the other hand was perfectly composed. She had wrapped herself in a pelisse, and wore a bonnet tied tightly under her chin. She had not awakened the children, but merely kissed each one before leaving them in the care of John Mortlake, and the servants at the hotel. As she had said, she would be back tomorrow.
So why did his stomach seem so filled with lead? Because he was not galloping at the head of his dragoons? Because it was so many years since there had been a slave revolt on Jamaica, and he could not help but feel that his court case had precipitated it?
Or because his entire being was out at Hilltop, and not only with Josh. Ellen was out there as well, and Judith Gale. He had no cause to love either of them now, but they were white women, in danger. Perhaps.
Then was he not a fool, and a criminal, to place two more white women in danger? But they would not abandon him now. He would have to use force. Well, he could do that, no doubt. But the truth of the matter was he wanted them to come. He wanted them at his side when he saw Hilltop again, for the first time in sixteen years. And he wanted Suzanne there when he confronted Tony. Because he did not wish to fight his brother? Or because, when it came down to it, he was still afraid of him?
He had not known doubts such as these for sixteen years.
'Ready, Mr Hilton.' Harris was already up on the top of the coach, with Barker.
'Aye, ready.' Dick closed the door. 'I anticipate no trouble, Mama, Cartarette. But should there be, you'll remain close.'
Suzanne stroked her pistol. 'Oh, aye, Dick. My God, I feel a girl again. Indeed I do.'
It occurred to him that she would welcome trouble. He sighed, and climbed on to the box beside Melchior, the Governor's coachman. 'Let's go.'
The whip cracked, and the equipage rolled out of the courtyard. Colonel Barraclough raised his arm, and the troop of cavalry followed. The town remained quiet, and asleep; there were no lights in any of the houses. Although at least one began to glimmer as the cavalcade rumbled up Harbour Street. Whatever Belmore elected to do, Dick realized the news would be widespread by breakfast. But perhaps by then the business would have been settled, one way or the other.
The houses thinned, the road divided. The carriage turned right, along that so well remembered route. The cavalry rode left, for the sea coast and the plantations to the west. Now the darkness was turning to grey. They should be at Hilltop by noon. How memory clouded back. The first time he had ridden this way had been with Josh. Twenty years ago. How excited he had been. How uncertain he had been. And how confused he had been.
Now? He found it difficult to decide on his emotions. His heart pounded pleasantly at the thought of seeing Hilltop again. Remarkably, he felt no elation at having won his court case. He had never supposed he would lose it, even when it had seemed that he would not be able to secure a witness, of any description. Even more remarkably, he once again felt no animosity towards Tony, who had only tried to be a Hilton. Save for Josh. Were Josh harmed . . ., but Tony would not dare harm him.
The sun rose, with West Indian suddenness. Wisps of mist still clung to the hillside, and the grass remained damp. But not for long. The heat became instant, and Cartarette was banging on the roof. 'Will you take breakfast?'
Melchior pulled the horses to a halt, and they got down to stretch their legs. The road had already risen by over a hundred feet; the hills climbed to their right, the land sloped away in thick woods to their left. Kingston had disappeared, although they would see it from time to time as they climbed the hills, he remembered. The morning was quiet, now the drumming of the hooves had ceased.
'My God, how long it seems.' Suzanne also stepped down. 'How long it is.'
Cartarette spread her cloth on the folding table Melchior had erected. Harris was opening the wine. A picnic, on a Jamaican morning.
'We have a pie here,' Cartarette said. 'And some good bread. At least, they say it is good bread.' She sniffed a slice. 'Why cannot the English make bread, Mother?'
'The French make good bread,' Suzanne explained, 'because they lack the potato.'
Dick sipped a glass of wine. Incredible, that perhaps only thirty miles away a plantation was in flames. He saw Cartarette's frown, and hastily smiled.
'You anticipate,' she said. 'Pie, Mr Harris? If it comes to blows you'll do better on a full stomach.'
'Blows, Mistress Hilton?' Harris held out his plate. 'Why, I do not think that will happen.' But then he frowned, and gazed at Dick.
Who slowly lowered his glass. The sound of the conches was unmistakable, eerily wailing through the valleys.
Suzanne was filling her plate, calmly. 'How far away is that noise?'
'I have no idea,' Dick confessed.
‘Not far, sir,' Melchior said. 'Maybe five miles. Is the hills make it echo.'
'Five miles. You'll take some wine, Melchior.'
'That is kind of you, sir.' He held up his glass. 'But what is that?'
They faced the path, listening to the drumming hooves.
'Can't be slaves,' Barker said. 'They'd never ride.'
Dust clouded into the morning air, rising almost like smoke, and the riders pulled their horses back. Three white men, armed and anxious.
'A picnic, by God,' cried their leader.
'James Hardy.' Dick stepped forward right, hand resting on the butt of the pistol in his belt. 'Why have you left the plantation?'
Hardy peered at him, and some of the colour faded from his cheeks. He had filled out with age, but still wore his moustaches, and still neglected to shave with any regularity. 'The monster.'
Dick merely smiled at him. 'I asked you a question.'
'They say the country is in arms,' said one of the men behind.
'There is your reason to stay with the estate, not desert it,' Suzanne said. 'Where is my son?'
'Your son?' Hardy frowned at her. 'Well, well, he spoke of you, to be sure. Your son has gone to Orange Lodge.'
'Orange Lodge?'
'Tony has abandoned Hilltop?' Dick demanded. 'What, stay and fight for a plantation which is no longer his?' Hardy inquired. 'There is no sense.' 'But what of my slaves?'
'I know nothing of them,' Hardy said. 'They have not yet joined the revolt, if that is what you mean. But we held no field conference this morning. They are still in their village so far as I know.'
'My God,' Suzanne said. 'Just to ride away, and leave them ... is that not an invitation to violence?'
Hardy shrugged. 'You must ask your son that, Mrs Hilton.'
'What of the firearm store?' Dick asked.
'We took sufficient for our own defence.'
'And left the rest? Muskets, with powder and ball?'
'The military are already out,' Dick said. 'And we are now on our way to Hilltop. You'll accompany us.'
'Us?' Hardy cried.
'It is your plantation.'
'Are you offering us employment, Mr Hilton?' asked a voice behind.
‘I am giving you a chance to prove that you are worthy of employment,' Dick said.
'Supposing you still have a plantation,' the third man muttered.
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