Dangerous Weakness (21 page)

“What else?”

“Slave. Dealer.”

Lily’s heart sank.
Yes, it might be good to watch for that.

“More.”

“Rescue, navy, ship—” Soon they had a list of a dozen words that worried Richard most. Lily began to consider ways she might introduce ideas with the women that would elicit the vocabulary she needed.

“Now, let me teach you the words I do know. They will help us ask for food if nothing else.”

He grinned finally. “That may prove useful. But let’s carry our lesson back to our hut.”

He stepped down the rocky path in front of her, holding one hand to steady her steps. He dropped his voice so it couldn’t be heard above the wind by anyone but Lily.

“One thing, though. Don’t teach any of the boys.”

She glanced up at the watcher on the hill and nodded.

Partway down, he hesitated again. He turned to her but did not meet her eyes. “Lily,” he began, “You—” He stopped and looked up. “That is, thank you. I can’t do this without you.” He turned on his heel, stepping quickly, and leaving Lily to trip and right herself.

What did that admission cost him?
She wondered. His retreating back looked stiff as a wooden plank. A bubble of joy rose inside her, carrying one thought:
he needs me
. It hummed through her as she strode down the hill after him until at last she stumbled down into the village. The cluster of mud-brown hovels sobered her quickly.
First things first, Lily. You have to get off this island—and not into the markets in Tunis.

Chapter 34

Days slip quickly when you want them to last. Seven more passed with little progress, and Lily’s time moved inexorably closer. No rescue appeared on the horizon. No word came from Gibraltar. No prayers saw answer.

Lily tried to walk serenely through each day. Every morning she sat with the women, grinding grain and exchanging languages as if they were family friends and not strangers who would sell her and her baby into bondage as easily as they would converse with her. Every night she clung to Richard and accepted the comfort he tried to pour into her with his gentle touch.

Every day she smiled. Every day she felt shadows shroud her soul. Every day her hand slipped more often to protect her growing belly. Every afternoon she climbed the cliffs to hope for rescue.

Weeks into their imprisonment Richard climbed with her as he often did. The steps had become more difficult, and he put an arm to her waist to help her.

“You shouldn’t do this,” he said.

“Exercise is good for me,” she replied, breathing heavily.

“That may have been true last week. No longer.”

“Will you forbid it?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he said wryly. “I only advise.”

Lily tried to ignore the worry lines she watched grow deeper on his face daily. She put one foot in front of the other. A few steps later she wondered if he might be right. The climb grew more difficult.

At the top, he sat her on a mossy rock to catch her breath. Hamidou’s lookout gave an embarrassed nod and looked away as the boys always did. This one looked particularly young; Lily guessed him to be nine or ten.

Richard stepped up onto the rock above her. Lily craned her neck to look and saw that he scanned the wide Mediterranean, looking northward as he always did toward Gibraltar. She relaxed back down and turned her own eyes toward the coast.

Blue fog clung to the coast late this day. Lily watched while it began to thin and scatter. While she watched, a flicker of movement caught her attention. At first she thought she imagined it; she didn’t. She rose to her feet in excitement.

“Richard! There—what’s happening?” she called, pointing toward the moving object.

The lookout leapt to his feet and followed her pointed finger. He ran to the edge and shouted down to men in the village and then pelted down the hill.

“It certainly excited our little friend.” Richard had climbed down and stood next to her. “It’s a ship, but what kind?”

“It looks likes four masts.”

“Whose do you think it is?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Too far to tell.” Hamidou’s frigate had returned several days before and sat at anchor in the cove.

“It is coming from the south. Could it be English?”

“Possible, but I wouldn’t count on it. It is sailing directly at us, though.”

They stood and watched the ship draw nearer.

“Dutch,” Richard said, “From the looks. I don’t see the flag.”

The ship neared the island and moved away from the shoals on the East, turning toward the cove on the north side.

“Not the Union flag, not one of ours,” Lily sighed. “What do you think is happening?”

“At a guess, it looks like the pennant of the Bey of Tunis.”

Tunis. The slave market.
Lily gripped Richard’s hand fiercely. “It has only been twenty-seven days!”
Hamidou cannot be trusted
.

Richard put an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. He leaned to kiss the top of her head. “Don’t leap to assumptions, Lily. It may be a friendly visit.”

When they made their slow and plodding way down the path, hindered by Lily’s girth and Richard’s determination to protect, they found the village alive with excitement.
Friendly visit indeed.

She could see the visitors, obviously Berbers, appear over the rise and march toward the square. Richard steered her in that direction when she would have fled to their hut.

“Better to know soonest,” he said.

Hamidou and his uncle stood in front of the house in welcome. Scarface stood at Hamidou’s right. The sight made Lily’s heart race. Scarface’s mouth twisted into a mockery of a smile.

Just as the men from Tunis entered the square, a ripple of talk erupted at Scarface’s right shoulder and drew her attention. Before she could wonder about the cause, two men dragged Volkov into the square and dropped him in front of Hamidou. He looked painfully thin but no worse than they had seen him before.

The Tunisian leader greeted Hamidou and immediately began to inspect the man on the ground. His scowl deepened moment by moment. He looked up at Hamidou and let lose a torrent of words in Berber, too much and too fast for Lily to understand.

“He says this one is worthless.” Izza had slipped in next to Lily. “He offers little coin,” she said disdainfully. “He asks why Rais takes no care of the—” Izza bit her lip as if trying to recall a word.

“Merchandise?” Lily suggested.

A bright smile lit Izza’s face. “Yes, Lady.” Her lips formed the new word silently as if she wanted to store it for future use.

“Rais says this one cheated him. Says lowest dog of infidel.”

The Tunisian prodded Volkov with his foot. The Russian jerked away.
He’s alive at least.

Richard’s arm came around Lily’s shoulder when the Tunisian turned abruptly and eyed them with a thoroughness that made her knees buckle. She righted herself. “
You must not show fear,” Richard said.
She breathed in and lifted her chin. He had called her courageous; she did not want to fail him.

The Tunisian agent spoke to Hamidou without taking his eyes off Lily.

“He wishes to know how much for you, Zambak,” Izza said. “He offers much.” Izza’s eyes glowed as if a high slave price could be an honor.

“Rais said no, did he not?” Lily asked her.

“He say ‘not now.’ Says he gave his word there will be more days.” She held up ten fingers and waved them three times.

Thirty days
? “Thirty-three,” Lily corrected.

Scarface spat some words at Hamidou, who stopped him. Scarface turned in disgust and went into the house.

Izza shook her head. “Disrespect to argue with Rais in front of strangers,” she said.

More talk, which Lily took to be haggling, went on less dramatically. When they finished, Izza frowned. “Price very low. Not enough to buy grain for winter.”

The Tunisian gave an order, and his men began to drag Volkov to the cove. He turned and spoke again to Hamidou before turning on his heels to follow his men.

“He say, ‘I’ll be back,’” Izza said. She wrinkled her brown eyes and tried to remember the word, “In Thirty days!” she concluded proudly. “He will pay much,” Izza continued, a wide smile spreading across her face.

“Thirty-three,” Lily murmured, dreading what might happen. “Pray God we’re gone by then.”

“King’s knight to his bishop’s third.”

Richard stared at Hamidou’s move and attempted to focus.
Damned difficult to remember strategy while attending to the words of eight men conversing around me.
So far only one word stood out: English.
English what? Fleet? Navy? More likely poor hapless English lord. Me.
Lily could puzzle it out more quickly.

He fingered a rough-hewn piece. The squarely cut chessmen looked crude but recognizable. “Queen’s knight to her bishop’s third,” he said, mirroring his opponent.
Not terribly inspired.

Eight perfunctory moves by Richard later Hamidou slid a knight into place. “Checkmate,” he said.

Richard sat back in his seat.
I don’t remember the last time I had lost a game before coming to this God-forsaken island. I’m losing my mind.

“Not well played,” Hamidou said, shaking his head. “You may hope your bigger game plays out better.”

“Bigger game?” Richard feared he knew the answer.

“Thirty-three more days, English.” Hamidou took a sip of tea. “As I told my Tunisian friend.”

“I understand he offered you a lot of money.”

Hamidou shrugged. “We’ll see what your government offers in the end,” he said.

The offer must not have matched. Praise God for that.

Scarface looked up from a game five feet away and snarled something. Richard had no idea what.

“Our Tunisian friends do business. They do not threaten our people,” Hamidou continued as if Scarface hadn’t spoken. “If your game includes harm to this village—” He left the threat implied.

“I gave my word.”

“I gave mine. We’ll see whose carries weight. The game isn’t over, my English friend.”

Chapter 35

Izza batted Lily’s hand from the grinding pestle.

“Grandmother tells you not work today,” the girl said.

Lily pulled the blanket she carried around her shoulders. The wind grew colder as the days grew cloudier. The women wore heavier overgarments now.

The old grandmother followed Lily’s gesture with a concern that reinforced Lily’s growing unease.

Discomfort increased daily; the baby felt lower, and the pressure that caused made her legs ache. It kept her up the night before. Only Richard’s patient back rubbing made it bearable. He no longer attempted intercourse, but he never stopped holding her, caressing her, whispering sweet nonsense in her ear. She hoped he slept better than she did.
Surely this baby will make her appearance soon!

Wasila, she of the over-decorated headdress, Lily’s nemesis, barked a complaint at Izza that brought Lily out of her thoughts. The old grandmother spoke sharply to the woman.

“She say you must work, not be lazy,” Izza said. She followed it with a discreet giggle. “She never work herself. Grandmother tell her to leave you alone.”

Grain in the basket ran out. One of the younger women rose to fetch more. Lily rose with her and took one handle of the wide basket. She needed to stretch her legs and was grateful for the excuse. Izza scurried behind. Lily recognized the woman carrying the other side of the basket as a young mother with three small children.

They reached the grain storage and slid off the lid. The younger woman moaned when she looked in. Lily peered over her shoulder. Supply looked low.
It sinks quickly with so many to feed.

Izza and the other leaned in and scooped out a bucketful, the other woman’s face wrinkled with concern. It occurred to Lily for the first time that some might resent two extra mouths to feed.

“I tell her not to worry, Zambak. Soon we have much coin to buy grain,” Izza said cheerfully. She pulled out another bucketful.

“Yes, my government will send ransom,” Lily agreed. She hoped it was so. She helped dump the grain into their basket.

“I don’t know this ransom, Zambak, but the Tunisians promised much coin,” Izza chirped. Lily’s hands froze in their work.

Izza did not seem to notice. She picked up one handle of the basket. The other young woman took the other and they walked back toward the women’s circle.

Lily leaned against the brick storage bin, one hand around her middle, and swallowed convulsively. She had thought Izza a friend, Izza who cheered at the thought of selling Lily, Richard, and the baby.

Do not show fear
, she reminded herself.
Move about as if all is well. Believe it.

She followed the other two women. The young mother appeared to be complaining about the grain supply when Lily joined them. She gestured at the basket and pointed back to the bin in animated description.

Wasila took up the conversation, pointing at Lily and carrying on in rapid Berber. Izza’s answer seemed to mollify her.

“What did she say?” Lily asked Izza.

“She say we will starve if Hamidou goes soft. I tell her not to worry. Much money will come. It has been offered.” Izza went about the business of grinding grain.

One other woman held up an object and looked at Lily inquiringly.

“Hammer,” Lily told her. Teaching continued. One could go through the motion, Lily found, even when one’s heart died a little.

Lily, proud and defiant, challenged Richard. Lily, wan and listless, crushed him. Hamidou’s messengers had returned from Gibraltar weeks before, empty handed. As near as Lily could tell him, the governor said he would do his best, but he needed time.
What little time we had disappears daily
.

Lily acted as if she ignored it all. She withdrew inside herself, spent long hours in bed, and refused to eat.

“You must eat,” he urged in spite of three previous refusals. He knelt next to their bed, holding a bowl of the ever-present porridge. Lily sat with her legs over the side and shook her head.

“No more. Please. I can’t.”

He held the spoon a moment longer.

“It makes me gag.”

He dropped the spoon to the bowl.

“You eat it. One of us should be strong,” she said with a weak smile.

He sat back on his heels and did as she asked. The food had gotten bland and monotonous as though their keepers had grown tired of feeding them.

Lily winced and grabbed her belly; he put the bowl down hard in his hurry to reach out to her.

She relaxed as suddenly as she had tensed and leaned her head onto his. “Nothing,” she said.

“False like the last?” he asked.

She nodded. “The old grandmother said false pains are normal. I must be patient.”

“Isn’t it too soon?” he asked. He slipped an arm behind her and lay her down on her side. He pulled off the Berber headdress and ran a hand down her hair to caress her cheek.

“For the baby? Not much, I think. It is time, or near enough. She won’t wait for rescue.”

“Lily, I wish—”

“Hush. You do what you can. What woman could ask for more?”

“If we were in London—” he began again.

“If we were in London, women would close ranks, a midwife would order me about, and you would hide at your club safe in the knowledge that you were not needed,” she smiled. “I rather like having you close by.”

Her words warmed him but did little to calm his fears. Women died in childbirth even with expert help.

“Then I will stay here, wife.” He pulled a blanket up around her shoulders and rested his hand there.

“I don’t mean you must be in my pocket all day,” she said on a yawn. “Go, prowl the village. I will be well for a short while.” She yawned again. “Let me sleep. I need to save my strength.”

He pulled his hand away and rose. He stood and watched her for a long moment before turning to the door.

He paced the short length of the village lost in thought; he reviewed His Majesty’s fleet in his head.
What is the fastest vessel? How fast can it get here from London?
He considered how long it would take the Foreign Office to gather the ransom. There would be discussion and debate. Castlereagh had declared that England must not pay ransom.
Will he make an exception? He might if he found it in England’s interest. His Grace would take steps to rescue his heir, but he might not hurry, and he was not likely to raise dust over Lily.

Any way Richard calculated it, he hated the answer. Help might reach them in the full sixty days, but even that seemed unlikely.
Now? Much too soon. The baby will not wait for rescue
.

Without a conscious decision, his steps turned to the path up the cliff.
How far from here does the coast lay? Perhaps I can spy a landmark to help me calculate it.
His persistent logical mind reminded him that shoals and currents could not be so easily calculated. He had rejected escape once before, and he ought to do so again.

Too late
, echoed in his mind as he climbed the path.
Too late to try. Too late to leave Lily alone.

He knew with sudden insight that even in London no women would pry him from her side, at least until the event itself. However unfashionable, however déclassé, even in London he would see Lily through the birth of his son. Nor would he leave her now even for a well-intended effort to seek help.

He stopped his climb, numb with the realization that events moved relentlessly forward and he could do nothing to stop, delay, or prevent what would come. The ragged blue robe whipped around him while he stood suspended halfway up, unable to go forward, unwilling to climb back down. He knew only one thing with clarity.
Lily matters more to me than anything else ever did, more than duty, more than the damned House of Sudbury, more than England. I would die for her.

Before he could turn, a shout drew his intention upward on time to see the boy on duty pelt down the hill and brush past him shouting alarm.