The Constable's Tale (31 page)

Harry’s new way of life was a source of unending mirth among his friends and past confederates in Craven County waggery. But as time went by he embraced the fresh start he was being offered, if for no other reason than to satisfy Talitha. She regarded the program as a gift from God, an astonishing opportunity, something that could lead, over time, to the elevation of the Woodyard name into the highest
places of Pamlico society. Harry was not convinced this was a realistic expectation, but he was infected by Talitha’s enthusiasm, her constant harping on what she called the family’s rightful destiny.

Harry came to suspect the judge took some dark satisfaction in having such power over his granddaughter’s despoiler. In any case, McLeod’s apparent willingness to let go of the unfortunate past and take on the remaking of Harry Woodyard seemed only to raise the judge’s already lofty standing in the community. The verdict on the streets of New Bern was that McLeod had handled his predicament with wisdom and grace.

But Harry never lost his fear that this forbearance someday would run its course.

*

Maddie picked up her blanket and pulled it around her shoulders again.

“In the days after we were found out, Grandfather hardly would let me out of his sight. When he did, he made his housekeeper keep her eyes on me and the manservant to watch the both of us. They kept me from slipping off, finding you, asking if you wanted to run away together.”

“I would have gone. It’s all I ever thought about.”

“Me too. But Grandfather made me a promise.”

Harry nodded, anticipating. “He said he would make you return to Scotland.”

“He did, but first he promised that if we tried to run away, he would send men to chase us down. No matter where we went, even into the swamps, they would find us. They would kill you on the spot and bring me back to New Bern. He stated that quite matter-of-factly. The choice was between staying here, maddeningly close to you but with no possibility of our ever being together, or going back to Scotland and finishing my education. It was no choice at all, really.”

In the gray light of the barred window, he caught a look at her eyes. They were red rimmed, but dry.

“It’s a cold, ugly world out there, my love. At least it can be. And I am not as beautiful or as rich or as brilliant as I once thought.”

“But you wrote poems. And a play. I can’t imagine writing a play.”

“It was never produced on the stage. Despite endless promises. I’ve come to understand that people led me on for their own selfish purposes. Especially men. They are unreliable, Harry. Changeable. With the exception of a certain gentleman from North Carolina, of course.”

*

He woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of cannon fire. It was faint. Somewhere beyond the city walls. Maybe more harassment from the British in preparation for an assault in the morning. Or maybe the battle had begun.

For the first time, Harry felt sharply uneasy about being in a locked room. He disliked the idea of dying in an enclosed place. He tried to think about something else. Someplace outdoors. Roanoke Island would do. Digging into the wet sand with Comet Elijah, picking through the past.

CHAPTER 30

22: Shew not yourself glad at the Misfortune of another though he were your enemy.

—R
ULES OF
C
IVILITY

AN HOUR AND A HALF AFTER SUNRISE, A CLAMOR ERUPTED OUTSIDE
their cell. Rushing footsteps and excited voices. After a short spell all became quiet again except for a patter of rain on the street outside.

“I couldn’t make out all of what they were saying, but it seems the British have made their move,” said Maddie. “Our guards are going to help fight them off.”

Harry said he guessed that meant there would be no biscuits this morning. Maddie acknowledged his go at humor with a half-smile. She seemed nervous.

A few minutes later there was a rattle at the door. Two men entered. One was an Abnaki Indian dressed in buckskins and carrying a pistol. The entire lower half of his face was painted a ferocious shade of red, the upper half black with white stripes. The other man wore unremarkable civilian clothes and was armed with a hanger.

“Hello, Richard,” said Maddie.

“Good morning, my dear.” To Harry he said, “Welcome to our little
auberge
, Constable Woodyard.”

The Indian’s eyes darted back and forth between the two prisoners. He looked ready to shoot without much provocation. Ayerdale had a demeanor of forced calm.

“What’s happening?” Harry said.

“A miracle. Last night the redcoats somehow figured out a way to get up a cliff and onto the plain behind Quebec.”

“Where did this happen?”

“It seems that there is a poor excuse for a pathway next to a nearly vertical stream somewhere upriver between here and Cap-Rouge. If that makes any difference to you.”

Amazing, Harry thought.

“They’ve planted themselves on the field about a mile away, a long red line stretching from the Saint Lawrence side of the peninsula to the Saint Charles. They’re just standing there, waiting to see what Montcalm will do, I suppose.”

“What will he do?” said Harry.

“He is rushing his army out to try to chase them away before they can entrench. Once Wolfe gets cannon into place, Quebec will be doomed. But that is no concern of yours. I am afraid it is time for you and your sweetheart to leave these prison walls. But not the way you came in.”

Maddie caught her breath.

Thinking to put down his last card, Harry said, “Look, Ayerdale, I know you’ve been spying for the French. I also know that now you’re working for our side. Your secret is safe with us. I’ve already given my word to your man deSavoy, who has taken me into his confidence.”

A grin divided Ayerdale’s face, giving Harry a good look at his teeth. Harry had guessed right. At least half were rotted.

“You lie so prettily, Mister Woodyard. I wish I could rely on your word, but I have the rest of my life to consider. I will not let it be overshadowed by the threat of exposure that I once betrayed my country. Your miserable lives are simply not worth the risk. For all anyone will know when they discover your bodies, you will have been killed by your French captors.”

“But surely you are already suspected of something,” said Maddie. Her eyes were wide, but if she was frightened she was hiding it well. She seemed more angry. “How to explain your sudden disappearance from Wolfe’s camp?”

“Thank you, my dear, for your concern on that score. The question of my whereabouts for the past several days will be of little interest to anyone in light of what is happening now, no matter how it comes out. If anyone is curious enough to ask, I left camp to make my own survey of the French lines. With Colonel deSavoy to vouch for me, I have nothing to fear on that score. As for you, I will be heartsore, and completely bewildered, over how you managed to get yourself killed inside a French jail.”

“I guess you intend to follow your usual practice of skipping away just before the fight,” said Harry.

“Not at all. I will simply appear on the battlefield and fall onto the ground as soon as the firing begins, as if to reload. It will take me a very long time to perform that task. When the firing stops, I shall get back up and join whichever side has won. I will be welcomed as a hero in either case. A solvent one too, thanks to the generosity of both parties, now and into the foreseeable future. Who knows how much longer this tiresome war will last? Or how many more occasions for profit may arise? The truth is, I have begun to like this game of spying.”

Ayerdale seemed to enjoy taunting them with his view of his own cheerful future. Or maybe he was just indulging himself. How many others were there with whom he could share his happiness?

Maddie said, “Did you love me once?”

“In fact, I rather fancy I did. I have long yearned for a partner, someone to share my life, help me bear my trials. Love me for myself, despite my shortcomings. Which are many, I’ll admit.”

“Richard, for the sake of what we had, don’t do something you can’t undo.”

Ayerdale walked over and put both hands on Maddie’s loosely covered shoulders.

“Milady, I could have chosen any of a number of beauties to marry, either here or in Europe. Wealthy ones. Some with titles. Unfortunately, I chose you. A liar. But such a damned pretty one.”

One hand crept down toward her bodice, as if no longer obliged to follow any rules.

She knocked it away.

“Bitch.”

He grasped the top edge of her gown and yanked downward. The cloth was surprisingly strong. It stretched but did not tear. Half exposing her front.

Harry lunged. But before he could cause any damage, the Indian clubbed him with his pistol butt. Harry’s legs gave out and he felt himself going down.

“We should have played like this more often,” he heard Ayerdale say through the ringing in his ears. “Alas, now we have no time.”

“We can do it when you get back,” Maddie said. Her voice was ragged and breathy, as if in a passion.

Harry lifted his head enough to see that Ayerdale was now holding her from behind, gripping her partially uncovered breasts with both hands. All but lifting her off her feet, and giving the Indian a good show. On his face a twisting together of anger and desire. And maybe surprise over what he had just heard from Maddie.

“A damned nice thought. And a way of extending your life for a few more hours, I suppose. But if our side wins this thing, the British, I mean, I’m afraid it would not do for them to discover you here. Hear your story.”

He let her go with a shove that nearly knocked her down.

“I would like nothing better than to tarry, my dear,” he said, “but that is not possible. So, as the French say, adieu. Please convey my respects to God.”

*

The Indian took his time. Maybe waiting for Ayerdale to be far enough away that he would not have to hear the shots. As the minutes passed and the Indian continued staring at Maddie, it occurred to Harry that he might have gotten the idea of doing some of his own business with her first.

Harry made to get up. See what he could do. But a rush of dizziness interfered. The Indian walked over to him as he slumped back. Put the pistol barrel to his forehead and pulled back the hammer.

“Monsieur,” Harry heard someone say. The voice seeming to come from the far end of the world.

Harry caught a glimpse of a French uniform. The Indian twisted around to see who it was, then seemed unsure of what to do next. Before he could make a plan, the newcomer shot him.

“D’Brienne,” said Harry. “You are just a bag full of surprises.”

“I believe it is bad luck to kill a man from behind.” He stepped through the smoke and stood over the still twitching body. “I was on my way to join my commander on the field but decided to make a detour to see after your welfare. Harry, I find I cannot bear to see you die.”

Questions danced on Maddie’s face. Harry said he would explain later. Wondering how much of the story he would be willing to tell.

“When I arrived at the door I was surprised to hear Richard’s voice inside. My protégé has become quite the celebrity among Montcalm’s inner circle, you know. I paused to hear what he might say. And I’m glad I did. For shame, playing a double game like that. When the spawn of a dog came out of your cell, I hid myself. Maybe I should
have killed him then, but I felt it more prudent to deal with them one at a time.”

They followed d’Brienne outside, Harry pausing to steal some things from the deceased. His pistol, a kit containing ball and powder, his knife and tomahawk. The ax looked old and well used. The wood at the business end stained almost black.

The Frenchman mounted his horse with liquid grace.

“
Au revoir, mes amis.
The next time we meet may be in heaven.” He made a flourish toward Maddie and went away at a gallop.

CHAPTER 31

82: Undertake not what you cannot perform but be carefull to keep your promise.

—R
ULES OF
C
IVILITY

MORNING SHOWERS SEEMED ENDED BUT THE SKY WAS DENSE WITH
clouds. They could make out the sound of gunfire beyond the city wall. Sporadic musketry and an occasional boom of cannon.

Harry said, “You stay here. I’m going to find Ayerdale.” She nodded, but a minute later he looked around and she was still there as he moved down the street. Her gown more or less restored to proper fit. Looser than before but passably decent as long as she kept it pulled up.

“Maddie, there’s nothing you can do. Just find a place around here and keep yourself hidden until this is over.”

“All right,” she said. But she kept following.

The horse gate was closed. Through the pedestrian door civilians streamed into the city, seeking protection behind the walls. The guard had multiplied since Harry’s passage. No one interfered with two people struggling against the noisy incoming tide. Possibly thinking they were mad for trying to go out.

They walked at a brisk pace, feet making sucking sounds in the wet ground. There was no pathway, only patches of wild grass and scrubby underbrush. The thinning clouds exposed a hazy white disk of sun. At the crest of a hill, a broad plain stretched out below them. The same field Harry had first seen in moonlight. Swathes of knee-high grasses with stands of brush and weeds wore patchy autumnal shades of brown and tan and yellow. Amid the vegetation, standing in thick formations, hordes of French soldiers.

The closest bunches were but a stone’s throw away, oblong clusters three and four and five men deep stretching out in either direction. Thousands of men. Mostly regulars in their white-and-blue uniforms, but, interspersed throughout, gangs of men in civilian clothes. Canadian militia. Looking like bumpkins who had wandered into a dress ball.

A half-mile farther along stood men wearing coats the startling color of fresh blood. They looked like painted lead toys in the distance, extending in a thin line from one side of the plain to the other. The whole thing had a fragile look. Only two men deep instead of the usual three or four. The ranks stretched out, Harry reckoned, so as to cover the entire width of the field, discourage flanking attempts. Short intervals separated platoons, wider spaces between battalions. Harry counted seven battalions in all, though smoke from a cluster of burning houses at the right end partly obscured that section.