Legs planted wide, the colonel said, “He has seen you going in and out of General Horatio Gates’ tent at Saratoga. Guards, put him in irons.”
As the guards fell on him, Joshua roared an awful warrior’s cry, hoping to alert Two Eagles. He punched one guard in the nose, heard bones crunch, soaking him in a shower of blood. Joshua broke free and swerved his elbow into another guard’s windpipe. The guard convulsed and fell back. The rest backed off. Not surprising. These were not seasoned frontiersmen.
The opened door was ten feet behind. Ten steps to freedom. Out the window, over the roof, a leap to the parapet and over. Once in the woods, they’d never find him.
Two guards down, six to go. Just as their bodies crashed together, Joshua grasped one flailing arm and broke it in two. He stopped and hit the next guard with a colossal right that came all the way up from his planted feet, and felt his fist drive right through and beyond. From his sinking body weight, he whipped his head from under his moving hand, allowing the momentum to carry him onward, shoulder first into the man behind him.
He booted a guard between the legs, and the man’s head wrenched downward at the same time Joshua’s elbow sailed upward, doubling the power of the blow. He targeted another savage blow at the head of another soldier, shattering his jaw with a high cracking sound.
He glanced at Snapes and Faulkner cowering together. Joshua danced, too shrewd to allow more to get behind him. He jerked his elbow, fracturing a man’s ribs, the hammering force hurtling his assailant through a glass bookcase. Leaping to one side and then to another, Joshua outpaced them, owing his supremacy to his hard-bitten experience as a boxer.
“Guards!” Faulkner screamed out, and from nowhere, more guards piled in the office and fell on Joshua.
Before he could wrench free again, ten men seized him and wrestled him to the floor, one of them giving him a short, hard jab in the stomach, and as he doubled over, another brought his fist down on the back of his neck. Joshua crumpled to the floor, his breath coming in short, painful gasps while the guards handcuffed, and then shackled to his legs, a two-foot metal bar to which a thirty-pound weight was attached. They stood him up, eye level with Faulkner who watched with a deep gratifying smile.
“There is a mistake. It must have been someone else,” protested Joshua.
Joshua did not flinch when the colonel struck him.
“The main mistake was allowing an infiltrator under my nose performing firsthand exploration for days. Are you shallow of mind to forget your resistance speaks volumes?”
The colonel dropped in his chair behind his desk and steepled his fingers, examining Joshua like a rare insect. “You used my cousin, didn’t you?”
A chill touched the base of his spine. His question implicated Juliet by association. She would be taken prisoner or hanged.
“I’m waiting, Mr. Hansford.”
By acknowledging her innocence, he signed his own death sentence. “Yes. She was easy prey. She had told me she was related to you. When I saw her taken prisoner by Onontio, I used her desperate circumstances as an opportunity to gain entry to the fort to scrutinize your defenses.”
Faulkner slammed his hand down with such force that it sounded like a gunshot and startled his aide so badly, he pinched his fingers in the desk drawer. “Get the Indian he came here with.”
Joshua swore beneath his breath. Now Two Eagles was incriminated. Had his friend heard his warning?
Snapes chuckled and Joshua whipped his head to the captain who smirked. Nerves rattled down his spine. Had he met the pompous bastard before? No. He’d remember the closely spaced eyes—chips of glass, cold and lacking human quality. Was the captain’s enmity more personal than the issue of spying?
“You cannot trust Snapes’ word. He incited the Indian attack on Horace Hayes, a loyal subject to the King.”
“He is a liar,” sneered Snapes. “Rumors abound, it was you who led the attack with the Oneidas.”
The colonel uncorked a bottle of ink.
“How crafty your manipulations, Mr. Hansford. I’ve found liars always the hottest to defend their veracity.” He sharpened a fresh quill, took an empty page from his drawer. Slowly, he dipped his quill pen and in a furious but clear hand began to write.
Joshua hated using his only recourse, shaming his family. Damn his pride, he’d do anything to outmaneuver the orders signing his and Two Eagles’ deaths. He had to do something to stall for time in the hopes of escape.
“I’m Lord Joshua Rutland. My father is a very powerful duke and is cousin to the King.”
Faulkner stopped writing. “You Patriots will stop at nothing, lying to save your neck.”
“Sir!” said Joshua haughtily. With heavy chains, and aching ribs, he drew himself up stiff as well as he could, befitting the part of the gentry whose word was being impugned. “I am the third inheritor of the Duke of Rutland, Baron Manners of Haddon and the Marquess of Granby. My father serves in the House of Lords. The Duke of Bedford, of St. Albans and York can vouch for me.”
“Once a liar, always a liar. A Patriot born and bred. Do not fall victim to his contrivances,” goaded Snapes.
Faulkner’s eyes bulged. “Damn you. Have you ever heard of anything so fantastic? You will swing from the gallows as a spy.”
It was done. There was nothing he could do to reverse events. The price he paid as a spy. “We will win this war.”
The colonel blew on the paper to dry the ink. “While hanging from the gallows with the crows pecking your carcass, tell me of your Patriot successes then. Take him away.”
Pushed, Joshua tumbled to the bottom of the stairs, the thirty-pound weight cutting into his ankles.
Mary came around the corner. “Dear God.” She knelt next to him, put her hand on Joshua’s shoulder, and then gave a scathing look at the guards. “Why is he treated like this? He has saved my life.”
“Get moving, colonial swine!” said the scarecrow sergeant with the tip of his bayonet.
Another soldier kicked him. Joshua raised his fists and the rest kept their distance.
“He is the worst kind—a traitor and spy who used you to enter the fort for his nefarious deeds,” spat the sergeant.
Mary’s eyes widened. “A spy?”
Chains clinking, Joshua leaned on her to rise and in a breathless voice, whispered, “Warn Two Eagles.”
“It is too late. They have taken him prisoner.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Disaster clutched Juliet in its hideous dark claws…the icy breath of the gallows primed to inflict its gruesome vocation. She had to save him. He had saved her life and she owed him.
Her skirts swishing about her ankles, Juliet hustled into Colonel Faulkner’s office. “You must stop the hanging.”
His beady eyes glittered with the prospect of the execution. “I have been informed he is a spy and will hang for his crimes.”
“That’s ludicrous. I demand to know who would say such a thing.”
“You don’t demand anything, Juliet, but I will allow this one-time concession, and on good authority, Captain Milburn Snapes.”
“Snapes is here?” She looked behind her, and then returned her gaze to her cousin. “His word is not to be trusted. He assaulted me, and led the attack on the Hayes’ by Onontio. He is the traitor and should be hanged for his crimes.”
Faulkner pulled up, squared his shoulders. His mouth flattened. “He is a respected officer of the Crown.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Interesting your rabid defense of the traitor. Perhaps you are not as innocent as the rebel rascal said you were?”
Juliet practically laughed in his face. “After everything I’ve been through…now you accuse me of spying? Snapes is a liar and a monster. For you to believe the man is reprehensible.”
“Anymore given to female hysterics, Juliet and your character and motivation will be readdressed. You are dismissed.”
Teeth grinding, Juliet stalked to the door. “I am not one of your soldiers.”
* * *
Juliet drew a breath, fought to think of a way out of this madness. She caught up with Mary, and with a knowing nod of the head, approached Edmund who stood in the center of the parade grounds watching drills. He blinked in surprise when both women flanked him, took arm in arm and steered through the inner yards. Beneath the shadow of the scaffolds, Juliet’s stomach clenched, the macabre vision of Joshua swinging from the gallows appearing before her eyes.
Her heart hammering in her throat, Juliet peered up to her cousin, a half-formed plan spinning in her mind. “If you don’t come with me now, you will be filled with regret. You must meet Two Eagles.”
“I know what you are up to, Juliet, and I’m not going to interfere with my father’s orders. Besides, you are talking of an untamed wild Indian. Why should I care?”
“Edmund, you must listen to me. I believe Two Eagles is your brother.”
That stopped him. “Impossible. How could I be related to a savage? The idea is beneath me to even consider. Why are you saying such a thing?”
She placed shaky palms on the sides of his face. “No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background. People learn to hate. Ignorance and narrow-mindedness are the handmaidens of intolerance. You must rise above the scorn and use your power to stop this atrocity.”
Edmund, as tall as Two Eagles, stared down at her. “Just this one indulgence, Juliet, and then you must promise me to distance yourself from the frontiersman and the savage. There is talk—”
She grabbed his hand and dragged him to the stone house prison. Black clouds sprawled across the sky, billowing in from the north. The brassy glare drained color from the buildings, the walls and trees, tinting everything bronze in the faltering light.
Guards stood in front of the heavy oak door. Her chin held high, she postured with the haughtiness of the highborn, expecting to kindle a sense of inferiority in the sentries. “Edmund is the colonel’s son and is on business here for his father. Let us pass.”
The guards immediately stepped aside.
Edmund hissed, “If my father hears of this—”
“Worry later.”
Keys jangling, the door swept wide, her eyes adjusted to the darkened interior of a small building cordoned off into two parts that included a barred cell. Juliet lifted her nose, the cell smelled of male sweat equaling the stench of ten privies. Joshua and Two Eagles rose from the filthy straw-strewn floor, dust motes floated through the air. Her throat closed up and her heart wrenched at the sight of Joshua weighed down with heavy chains and squinting at her though swollen eyelids.
With all the ferocity of a summer squall, Joshua rasped, “Juliet, you should not have come here.”
She reached for Joshua’s hand, warm and comforting and alive, heard Mary’s gasp when she noticed Two Eagles’ condition. He had been beaten as bad as Joshua. Edmund moved beside Mary. Juliet darted glances between the two men. Who was stunned more…Two Eagles or Edmund?
“Look and see the similarities,” Juliet said, deeply moved by what was taking place. “Tell me it isn’t so.”
Edmund’s mouth hung open, apparently dumbstruck by the physical likeness. He raised his hand, held it suspended. “My whole life, I’ve felt as if something was missing in me. I felt a void…yet I knew there was something else. But I had no idea what. It was like a sixth sense that felt a part of me was missing.”
Two Eagles pushed his hand through the bars, clasped Edmund’s. “I had dreams—of someone like me. Now I know it was you.”
Edmund shook his head. “My dreams…you were there. I couldn’t touch you and I thought it was just my wishful thinking for someone to fill the void. But those dreams helped me through the difficult times—”
“I suffered your pain,” said Two Eagles. “You are home now. You can meet our mother.”
“My mother? She is an Indian?” Edmund slowly released a deep breath.
Juliet’s mouth went dry as ashes. Would his prejudice hold against his natural mother?
“Edmund,” she spoke sharply, “you have been taught to hate. If you can learn to hate, you can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”
“I know our mother will love you,” said Two Eagles.
“Love me?” Edmund’s voice choked.
Two Eagles gripped his hand tighter. “Like me, she has always somehow known you were alive even though she was told otherwise. She has always loved you.”
Edmund set his jaw, his gaze wandering over Two Eagles’ face, a face identical to his own. Finally, he said, his voice soft, “I feel you are my brother, Two Eagles. The connection is impossible to explain. I will do everything in my power to get you out of here. I don’t know how, yet, but I will succeed.” He eyes lit. Oh yes. I must meet my mother. I need to meet her.” He turned. “Juliet, come with me.” Edmund whipped open the door.
Through the bars, Joshua still held her hand, his breath warm upon her cheek. “I cannot bear being parted from you,” she said, “but I’ve so much to do to try and stop the hanging, and if not, work somehow to help you escape. I know you have been accused as a spy and by that foul Snapes. I tried to tell my cousin the truth of him. He will not listen.”
His fingers threaded through hers, and she drank in the feel of him.
She raised her head and he met her lips in a searing, demanding kiss.
“Do not get involved, Juliet,” Joshua warned her.
“I’m already involved. I am your wife.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Juliet followed Edmund as he burst into his father’s office, soldiers stumbling and murmuring apologies to their commander for allowing him to enter unannounced.
“Father,” Edmund said, his voice deep and edged with deadly calm. I have come from the jail. There is an Indian…a mirror image of me. I demand an explanation and I want it now.”
In an instant, Edmund loped to his father’s desk and for a moment, she though he might jump over it to reach his father. But he stopped short, his thighs touching the wood, his hands clenching. Juliet glanced from man to the other.
Faulkner raised a flaccid hand and waved off his soldiers, waiting until the door clicked shut. “You’ve not been invited into my office, Edmund,” said Faulkner, his expression passive…as uninterested in Edmund as he was in the half-eaten breakfast on his massive desk. He shoved aside the pewter plate. Studied his fingernails.
A tick vibrated in Edmund’s jaw, his body rigid, as if holding back a rage so great it might explode if he allowed it. This was a side she had not once witnessed in her cousin before.
The air grew heavy and the humidity pressed down. The wool of her gown chafed and sweated against her breasts. A stillness fell over the office, and in the silence, came a low crackle of thunder, rolling across the rooftops.
“I’m not waiting for an invite. I want an answer.”
The colonel stood, his chair scraped across the floor, smacked the wall behind him. “You are tired, and your mind is playing tricks on you.”
“He is my brother. Do not deny it.”
It was the first time Juliet had seen the colonel speechless. With his hands behind his back, Faulkner sauntered to the window, looked out, seemingly lost in thought.
The ominous clouds that had threatened crept in quickly. The atmosphere lay suffocating. The scent of rain wound dark and heady. Even the wind held its breath. A streak of hot silver split the sky and a downpour began.
Huge heavy raindrops pattered on the roof, then the wind picked up, slashing the rain against the windows and muddying the yard below, the storm spilling its wrath upon the earth.
“You are right, Edmund. I am not your real father although Emmaline and I are your parents in every sense of the word.
“Your mother was weak with the loss of several babes. I loved her. I had to bring her back from the madness taking hold of her. She delivered another stillborn and the doctor dosed her with laudanum. I dreaded her awakening
to find she had lost another babe.
“To clear my head, I took a ride in the forests. I happened to come by an Oneida Indian woman who had given birth in the woods. As was their custom, they delivered babies away from the village.
“You were born on the cold ground from a savage woman. There were twins. One was dark and the other, peculiarly light. The savage woman lay unconscious from her ordeal. I rode back to the fort, took my dead child and replaced it with the whiter baby of the Indian woman’s twins. I figured she had a son left to her, and my Emmaline would have a son.”
Edmund rubbed the back of his neck. “All my life, I’ve known. I can’t describe it…couldn’t touch it…couldn’t feel it, yet something tangible was there.”
The colonel pivoted. “Stop your theatrics at once. You are not a savage.”
Edmund stilled, a low hum of fury escaped his lips. He slammed his fist on the desk. The dishes, ink bottle and quill jumped. “You stole me from my mother?”
“It was a decision I made for you and your mother’s benefit.”
“You are confused, Father. Emmaline is not my real mother.”
“How can you say that? She gave you great love. You were educated and given every advantage of a gentleman.”
“I was denied my real mother and brother. And whatever your thoughts are of Emmaline, she was mad. The things she did to me. As a child, she locked me a dark closet for days, starving me, laughing when I begged her to let me out. How she lived to mock and ridicule me and make me cry because it was titillating for her.”
Edmund tore his shirt from his waistband, lifted his shirt. Raised white leathery scars rioted across his back. Nausea rolled in Juliet’s stomach and she turned away, her heart aching for her cousin. She thought back to when they were children. No wonder he wanted to hide in the garden with her. He was afraid of his mother.
“When the servants were not around, Mother tied me to the bed and burned me with a poker, and then threatened to kill me if I told anyone. I suffered in silence. The nanny had seen the burns and did her best to protect me from Emmaline, and wrote to you suggesting boarding school.”
Lord of the Wilderness Page 18
