Behind the Raven Mask

by Cherime MacFarlane

  Snatches of memory drifted through her mind. She rubbed her forehead as she tried to recall what had happened. She must have been sick. At any rate, she was now hungry. Reluctant to wake Dmitri, Camille slipped from the bed on the other side. A sudden attack of dizziness forced her to cling to the bedpost.

  When she regained a small measure of strength, Camille worked her way through the dressing room to Dmitri's bedroom. She closed the connecting door and feeling somewhat stronger, tugged on the bell cord. On the edge of the unmade bed, she sat and waited for a response.

  Tatiana was the first one in the room. She mumbled something in Russian before smiling at Camille. "Madame Camille, it is good to see you again, we were all so concerned. Where is Dmitri?"

  "He is asleep in my room. I am starved. Would you have Nita make me a big breakfast?"

  "At once, Madame." Tatiana left the room in a flurry.

  Other faces peered at Camille from the door. With a smile, she invited everyone in. Anya sat beside her. The child gave her a hug and a kiss. Helena seemed content to lay a hand on her forehead. Tatiana returned with a tray which she put on the nightstand. Karin came with fresh bedding before Helena shooed everyone out.

  As Camille ate, Helena told her what had happened to Alexis at the mill and Dmitri's part in the rescue. Camille was glad she had missed it. She would have been frightened to death.

  "And the worst of it was, he would let none of us in to help care for you. He is a stubborn man!" Helena grumbled.

  Camille finished her breakfast, then lay down in the bed. Why had Dmitri done that? She recalled their fight, but little else. The letter from his Juneau woman had vanished. Camille had no idea what had happened to it.

  Then an ache in her lower back made it difficult to rest. Uncomfortable in the bed, Camille rose and paced the floor. Nothing eased the cramps that came with startling regularity. With a sigh, she returned to bed with a book.

  The book did not interest Camille. She shut it, then tried to rest. For a short while, she slept. A strong pain jolted her out of her nap and a gush of moisture dampened the sheet between her legs.

  Her voice quavered when she called to Helena. "I think I have done something dreadful. Will you please help me?" Camille stared at Helena. "What is happening to me?"

  The woman rushed over with a towel from the washstand in hand. "The baby has decided to be born in its father's bed."

  Helena mopped up the worst of the fluid. Then pushed Camille back against the pillows. "Rest while you can, child. I will bring a fresh towel to place under you. Then Tatiana and I will make ready."

  Helena left the room, the dirty towel in hand. Camille heard her shouting orders as she hurried down the stairs.

  The day became one long blur as Camille lay in the bed while her body prepared for the birth with no conscious thought on her part. The cramps gave way to pain. Camille learned how to drift with the tide. During the lulls, she rested.

  By late afternoon, one long wave of pain had her locked in its grip. The women tied a sheet to each of the lower bedposts, then glanced at each other. The girl was doing well. So far, it was an easy birth.

  "Listen now, Camille." Tatiana smoothed the damp hair away from her forehead. "Soon the pain will be greater, and you will want to push hard. That will mean it is almost over. When that time comes, you must sit up and grab the sheet with both hands. I will help you up. When we tell you to push, do it. Push with all your strength. You understand?"

  Camille nodded.

  None of the women saw the man who stood transfixed for a moment in the connecting door to his bedroom. Camille sat on the bed, gripping a sheet tied to the bedposts with both hands. Her dark head thrown back, she screamed again. Veins stood out on her neck as Tatiana supported her shoulders.

  Dmitri rushed over to the bed and pulled Tatiana out of the way. He positioned himself behind Camille, so that she might lean against him. Tatiana opened her mouth to say something to him, but Dmitri glared at her. The old woman turned away.

  "That's right, love. Push harder! Push!" Helena knelt at the foot of the bed, as she encouraged Camille.

  Dmitri wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Camille leaned into his strength and was glad of his support. She did as Helena asked, her body could do nothing else. With what Camille knew must be her last ounce of strength, she pushed. And suddenly, the pain left.

  Camille stared at the baby in Helena's arms. Streaked with blood, the child wailed. Tatiana took the infant from Helena and held the child as Helena cut the cord. Dmitri lowered Camille back to the bed.

  "Is the baby well?" Camille asked as she stared at him. Tatiana was now washing the child at the basin.

  "Well?" Dmitri asked sharply, his gaze locked on his wife's face.

  Tatiana's dour face was all gentleness, as she looked over at the couple. "You have a fine son. Everything is as it should be."

  The baby continued to howl until Tatiana put the tip of her little finger into his mouth. He sucked on her finger and was silent.

  Helena was massaging Camille’s lower abdomen with the heel of her hand. When the after birth came, Helena inspected it. It appeared everything came out, she mentioned that to Tatiana as she heaved herself upright with a nod to Dmitri.

  Tatiana placed the now clean, swaddled baby on the bed in the curve of Camille's arm. "See if he will nurse. He seems hungry enough."

  Camille turned on her side and unbuttoned the bodice of her gown. The little mouth opened, then closed on her nipple. When she touched his cheek with one finger, the infant turned his head toward her touch. Camille stroked his lips with her nipple. Once again the baby turned toward her touch. With a sideways motion of his head, the infant took the nipple into his mouth and sucked.

  Helena and Tatiana left the room after gathering up the dirty linen.

  Dmitri knelt beside the bed. He stroked the fat little arm of his son, which lay on the blanket. Camille gazed at him with a slight smile on her face. Dmitri was also smiling, but Camille sensed another emotion as well.

  "I never thought to have a son."

  As he spoke, Camille heard the sorrow in his husky voice.

  "This is a poor time to speak of such a thing, I know," he continued to stroke the child, but his gaze was on her. "I must tell you this. There have been too many secrets between us and... secrets have almost destroyed us."

  Camille guessed what was bothering him. "Is this about the redheaded woman, the one on board the Laurie?"

  He nodded. Dmitri stared at her for a moment. The vein in his temple was throbbing. She could see how disturbed he was. "How long have you known?" He asked in a hoarse whisper.

  "I overheard Tatiana talking with the captain of a steamer which came directly to the island from Juneau. I have known since your first trip there."

  "You almost let it slip on the night of Pirov's party. I have not been to see her since that night. Do you know that as well?"

  The baby nuzzled her breast and Camille looked down. She guided her nipple back into his mouth and kissed his downy head. Camille looked back at her husband whose face was only inches from her own. "I know. I do love you, Dmitri."

  "After everything I have done? After reading the letter? I thought you hated me."

  His voice broke. Dmitri turned his face away from her. "I have been just as great a fool. There are things I have kept from you as well." Camille took a deep breath as if to continue.

  Dmitri turned back to her. "No." He shook his head. "I know about the so-called accidents. No one will hurt you now, golubushka. You may leave me if you must, but only after the svoloch' who has threatened you is dead."

  "How?" He saw the relief on her face. Dmitri was satisfied. It was one service he would render with the greatest of pleasure.

  "You had a high fever. I have learned many things, golubushka. There are no more dark secrets between us. We could begin again. A fresh start, free of lies. We can be a family. You, I, Anya and the baby."

  Camille smiled at him. "Find Anya,
she must share in this. We are a family now."

  He rose to do as she asked. When pulling the door open, Dmitri found Anya waiting on the other side.

  "May I come in? Please?"

  Dmitri hugged Anya. "Forgive us for not having called you sooner. Come, moy sladkiy. It is now time for you to meet your brother." With an arm around Anya, he led her to the bed.

  "He is beautiful!"

  Anya glanced at her parents, then back at the infant. "May I help care for him?"

  Camille caught Anya's hand in hers. "I will need your help. Thank you, Anya."

  A week later, Dmitri stood in the bedroom watching a north bound steamer loading at the wharf. It would reach Juneau in only two days. Rough looking, would-be miners were earning a few dollars more by helping his men load a cargo of lumber. The trip took longer in the Arctic Tern. He needed to see Vanessa. It was possible she knew about the attempts on Camille's life.

  He woke Camille and held her close for a moment. "I am taking the steamer to Juneau. Vanessa might think she has reason enough to want you out of the way. I have to speak to her."

  "Very well, love." For a moment, she clung to him. Camille's mouth brushed his as they lay in the warmth of the bedding. Dmitri loved the sweetness of her lips. He was reluctant to leave but knew he needed to speak with Vanessa. After a kiss on one warm cheek, he removed his wife’s arms from around his neck and got out of bed.

  In the dressing room, he found an old flannel shirt and faded work pants. Time was short so he dressed quickly. Back in the bedroom, he unlatched the gun cabinet, removed a pistol and slipped it into the waistband of his pants.

  Dmitri turned to go back into the dressing room. When he walked out Camille shook her head. With an old mackinaw and worn felt hat jammed down on his head it was hard to see his face. With a gasp, she realized Dmitri had removed his eye patch.

  Camille ran to him and slipped her arms around his waist. "Promise me you will not hurt her. Promise Dmitri!"

  For an instant, he glared at her. Camille laid her head on his chest. As he wrapped an arm around her waist, he turned Camille's face up with his hand. "As a favor to you, I promise. I swear I will not hurt her unless I must."

  Camille walked downstairs with him. At the back of the house, he opened the door. She placed a hand on his arm.

  "Dieu vous garde." Dmitri's kiss left her breathless.

  "And may God keep you, moy dorogoy."

  Camille shut the door behind him, then hurried back up to watch as the loading went on. She recognized Dmitri when he came around from the back of the house carrying a box on his shoulder. With the shabby jacket and old hat, he blended in with the other men on the wharf.

  Her husband walked up the gangplank behind several other rough-looking men and vanished down a hatch. She scanned the crowd but did not catch sight of him again before the steamer sounded its whistle and cast off from their dock.

  ***

  After two days of sleeping with the mob on deck, Dmitri looked like one of the spring contingent of miners from the states. He had slipped unseen into the throng as the ship was loading at his dock. If this went to hell, he did not need to be recognized.

  On reaching Juneau, it was just as easy to slip into Vanessa's rooms without being seen. When she entered the room, Dmitri moved from the shadows.

  The woman spun around in a flurry of cloth when she felt strong hands on her shoulders. For a moment, his mistress stood searching the face of her lover.

  With a husky laugh, she kissed him. "Welcome back. I am glad to see you. I’ve not had any fun since you have been gone."

  HIs temper on a short leash, one hand dug into her shoulder as the other wrapped around Vanessa's throat. "Are you? How nice." Dmitri's thumb stroked the warm flesh.

  "Is there a reason I should not be... be happy to see you?" Vanessa stuttered and her muscles tensed under his hand.

  "There is the matter of the letter you sent to my wife." He felt the throb of her pulse beneath his fingers. It sped up somewhat when he mentioned his wife.

  Vanessa reached up, removed her hat then tossed it toward a table. "I am sorry if it caused you any difficulty, but you hurt my feelings. You have been ignoring me. Besides, you should have told her yourself long ago."

  "True." He bent his head to kiss her throat. When Dmitri raised his head, there was a large red welt where his lips had been.

  Vanessa's voice quavered when she spoke. "Why are you here, Dmitri?"

  "I have questions I want answers to, honest answers." He pulled the pins from her hair. With one hand wrapped in the thick red hair, Dmitri jerked her head back. He pulled her tight against him.

  "Someone is trying to kill my wife. Would you have any idea who the bastard might be?" Dmitri's voice was low. He almost crooned the words. Vanessa tried to move her head, but he held her immobile.

  "Why would I know anything about it? You are an interesting bed partner, I grant. But I would never want to be married to you. Being buried in Juneau is enough for me, I could never live on your island. I could never begin to guess who wants your child bride dead. I swear Dmitri, I am not guilty of that."

  "Can I believe you? I wonder. But let me warn you, if he succeeds, I will find you, Vanessa. When I do, I will leave my mark on you for everyone to see."

  "You are wrong, Dmitri." Vanessa's gaze did not waver. "And I will not stand for this kind of treatment from you."

  "Oh, I think you will put up with whatever I choose to do too you. As I recall, the rougher it is, the more you like it. But since you assure me you are not involved in the threats to my wife’s life," Dmitri shrugged. "I will be going. But, remember, you should consider yourself warned." As he turned to leave, Dmitri picked up his jacket from the chair seat.

  Vanessa reached for the shears, which lay on top of the chest of drawers. She gripped them in one hand as she ran toward him. The clicking of her heels on the rough boards alerted him. Dmitri stepped to one side and the point of the scissors opened the skin on top of his shoulder. The back of his hand connected with her face and Vanessa fell against a chair.

  "I have done nothing to your precious child bride! And I will not live in fear for the rest of my life. I will not!" She screamed at him.

  “I gave my word to Camille I would not hurt you. But you need to pay something!” Dmitri picked her up and threw her onto the bed. With both hands on the neck of her dress, Dmitri ripped it to the waist. Vanessa threw her arms around his neck and ground her bloody lips against his.

  "Please, Dmitri don't leave. I only sent her a letter that is all! Stay."

  He pulled away from her as he spat on the floor. "Stay away from me, Vanessa. You are sick. I refuse to be a party to your kind of degradation. You want me to hurt you."

  He bent to retrieve his coat from the floor. The Count walked through the door and slammed it shut behind him.

  His mind raced as long strides carried him down to the beach. With one hand on his torn shoulder, he searched the tangle of small craft on the beach. He found a man with a loaded row boat. He was ferrying goods and passengers out to waiting steamers. For all the trade was lucrative, most captains hated coming to Juneau because so many sailors jumped ship to try their luck in the gold fields.

  Some men gave up on the pursuit of the metal in the streams and turned to fleecing the miners. Other men like the one who agreed to row him out to the vessel he hoped would take him home, were more enterprising. The oarsman said he had one more load to move, and the vessel would weigh anchor for the West Coast.

  A rope ladder hung from the side of the steamer anchored far out in the bay. After scrambling up the ladder to the deck, he found the purser and booked passage on the southbound boat.

  Once in his cabin, Dmitri requested that the steward treat his wound. The man did so, no questions asked. Grateful for the help, Dmitri tipped him well. With a dinner tray and full bottle of liquor, he ate and thought about the confrontation with Vanessa.

  She had been far too angry over his accusat
ion to be lying. The ache in his shoulder was proof enough of her temper. That one would never agree to live on the island, and Vanessa had what she wanted; a business that would turn a profit and an untarnished reputation in the gold camp.

  The violence she enjoyed seemed to be confined to the bedroom. Memories of certain things they had shared caused him to reach for the whiskey. It had been an interesting encounter but one he had no intention of repeating with anyone ever again.

  Dmitri lay back against the wall behind the bunk, sipping at the bottle of whiskey provided by the steward. Once again he went over the facts he knew.

  If not Vanessa, then who? The incidents had taken place only on the island. It had to be someone who would not be suspected. That must mean a permanent resident. But who would hate Camille enough to kill her? What reason could anyone on the island have for killing Camille?

  Even Anya loved her. Something deep in Dmitri's mind stirred, but it refused to come forward. He took another drink from the bottle. Revenge was the strongest motive he could think of for murder. Revenge for what?

  Ooskada! Dmitri sat up and spilled a little of the liquor on his pants. Revenge might as well be Ooskada's middle name. The man had a long list of claims against Dmitri, any and all of which demanded blood.

  The shaman traveled where ever he liked without hindrance over the island, and he lived there in the village. He recalled the description Camille had given him during her fever of the figure she had seen at the base of the fallen tree. He thought the incident distorted in her mind by the fever. The man with a bird on his head; it must be the shaman!

  "Dear God!" Dmitri mumbled. He had left Camille with only Stanislaus as a guard while he ran off to Juneau on a fool's errand. Dmitri ran out of the cabin, grabbed the first seaman he encountered and demanded to see the captain. Two hours later, the steamer left Juneau for Bressoff Island.

  Dmitri stood hunched in his mackinaw against the rail. It had cost him a pretty penny to charter the steamer, but he did not give a damn. He had to get home. Camille might as well be alone on the island. Alexis would be no use because of his broken leg and Stanislaus would only get himself killed.