Black Wreath (22 page)

Twenty-Nine

Taste of Freedom

D
izzy with hunger, his body numb with cold, James stumbled out of the forest into a clearing. It was three days since he had run from Mackenzie’s farm. That first night he had run straight towards the trees at the brow of the hill beyond Mackenzie’s boundary. Once he’d entered the cover of the trees he had kept running as fast as the darkness would let him, trying to block out from his mind the terrifying noises that filled the forest. It seemed every creature on the earth must be creeping and flitting and running through the trees that night. Clammy leaves brushed his face, and several times he tripped on a tangle of undergrowth.

He tried to keep his body on a straight path and not double back on himself. His idea was to head northward until he met the Delaware river. He didn’t have a clear idea beyond that, except that he might somehow find passage on a boat, or find his way towards the relative safety of a big city
like Philadelphia, where he might lie low and recover himself. But as he ploughed through the trees, he lost his sense of direction and when the first light began to break through the trees he realised that he had no clear idea of where he was. He ate a little of the bread he’d brought and rested a little. He pushed on until he came to a small clearing. The day was clear, with good sunlight, so James took a twig and placed it in the ground, then moved it towards the sun until the shadow disappeared. Then he waited a while until the shadow grew from the stick on the other side. He reckoned that shadow gave him an east-west line and he bisected it with another twig to find north. Had he remembered it right? It was a trick Connolly had shown him one day in the woods when there was no sign of Mackenzie.

James followed that line through the trees again and kept going as long as he could. As the afternoon wore on, he felt the chill in his body and knew he couldn’t spend another night without shelter. They wouldn’t try to look for him once darkness fell, he thought. He stopped and considered his surroundings. In the distance he saw a tree that had been torn from the ground and lay propped precariously against the trunk of another, its roots exposed. He made for it without delay. It was perfect: the root system protruded out of the ground to form a natural roof, with a deep and comfortable-looking space underneath, which James began to fill quickly with fallen leaves and clumps of earth and grass. Then he stepped down into the bed-shaped space and covered himself with some of the leaves. He thought about lighting a fire, but
wouldn’t allow himself to take the chance. He remembered Connolly brought back with his tail between his legs after two days and tied to the apple tree. It was better to be a little chilly than suffer that.

James was woken by barking, faint but distinct. He leapt from his shelter and hastily disassembled it, scattering the branches and debris in all directions even though he knew if the dogs came this far they would surely know where he had slept. He felt his stomach tighten with fear as he thought of them. But they were not near yet. He must be calm. He leant his forehead against a tree and forced his exhausted mind to clear itself and think. James had known he would be pursued of course; there was no surprise in that. And he was still a good way ahead, to judge by the sound of the barking. He resisted the urge to flee and forced himself to stay still for a moment. He cocked his ear to the sound of the barking and listened intently. It did not seem to be getting any nearer. James tried to put himself in the shoes of the pursuers. They would expect him to go northward towards the Delaware; this had, in fact, been his intention. But maybe he had strayed, and maybe if he kept on straying he would avoid his trackers.

He began now to move through the trees away from the barking, in what might be a westward direction. He kept on going at a slow-running pace, wishing the endless avenues of trees were streets that he might easily navigate. James never thought nature could be so endless, that you could pass through it for days and days without encountering a human habitation or any sign of human life. The day wore on, and still he kept
moving. By now he had exhausted his meagre rations, but he knew he couldn’t afford to think about food. He remembered Amelia telling him that somewhere to the west the peoples of the Five Nations lived. He hoped he had not strayed into their territory. His brain filled with all kinds of dark imaginings of what he might suffer if captured by Iroquois warriors. He felt sure he saw faces flitting between the trees. He stopped suddenly, plagued by hunger and thirst. An Iroquois brave would know how to fend for himself in a forest, James thought, but all I have is street craft. When evening came, he drew some moisture from leaves and imagined he was sitting down to a great dish of mutton in Red Molly’s. Darkness fell quickly and he had neglected to make a shelter. He gathered leaves and brushwood and piled them at the foot of a tree and huddled as best he could.

And here he was now, on the third day. He came out into the clearing and saw that he had reached the end of the forest. The land sloped down to a track and, beyond it, a great river. He looked around cautiously and, seeing nobody, ran to the river and leaned over the bank to scoop his fill of water. What river was this? It surely couldn’t be the Delaware, or he’d hear the barking of dogs and the shouts of men. There was only a great silence all around. As he looked into the distance, he could make out the blurry outlines of ships, and the sight filled him with hope. If he followed the course of the river
he might be able to get himself onto a vessel to the north or even to a port where he might embark for Europe. He sat down under a tree a little way from the bank and fell into a deep sleep. Several hours later, he was woken by loud voices. He opened his eyes and saw two men on horseback, one of whom had a woman behind him. The second man carried a large portmanteau and several bundles. Not recognising any of them, James sighed with relief. He stood up, pressed himself against the trunk and peered out through the lower branches.

‘We’ll stop here,’ the man who had the woman with him said. ‘It’s as good a place as any to rest.’

He dismounted and helped the woman down, then both men tied their horses to a tree very near James. The second man, who seemed to be a servant, untied one of the bundles and spread a cloth on the grass, on which he placed wine and food.

James eyed the scene greedily; it was all he could do to keep still and not race to the table napkin at once. He didn’t keep still enough, though, and managed to brush against a branch so that the leaves rustled. The place was so quiet it might as well have been a gunshot, and the servant turned immediately in his direction, his cutlass drawn. James came out from the cover of the tree and raised his hands.

‘Who is it?’ the other man shouted, immediately moving to shield the woman.

The servant ran at James as if he meant to decapitate him.

‘Please, I mean no harm,’ James said in a clear voice. ‘I’ve
been travelling for days and I’m hungry and thirsty. You need have no fear of me.’

They all looked relieved, and the man invited him to join them and share their meal. As they ate, James learned that they were fugitives like him, though the cause was different. The man, who introduced himself as Tom Black, and the woman, Charlotte, had eloped and they feared they would be pursued by her husband, who was a powerful man in the local town. They were planning to take ship in a little town on the Delaware and make their way to Holland. Because of the danger they were in, they were travelling by night. As it was now almost dusk, they would be leaving soon. This sounded like an excellent plan to James, and when he asked if he might join them they agreed willingly enough. They quickly finished their meal and packed up. James noticed how tender the couple were towards each other and felt a pang as he wondered if he would ever see Sylvia again. There was little time to brood, however, and soon they were all mounted and riding through the woods, which, even though their progress would be slower, they felt would offer the most protection.

The night was dark and, after a couple of hours of slow passage through the forest, Tom Black called out to his servant. ‘Let’s rejoin the road, or we’ll be too long delayed. It should be safe enough now.’

The servant murmured his assent and they faced their horses towards the edge of the forest and soon gained the track that would take them to the little town near Newcastle. James was glad they were travelling by night as he realised that
he was heading back in the direction of Mackenzie’s farm and, if it had been light, he could well be seen by someone who knew him. The night air was cold, but he didn’t care; he could taste freedom in the chill. Every furlong was a stage nearer the end of the terrible prison of his recent life.

They were not more than two or three miles out of the forest when they heard the noise they most dreaded: the fierce clatter of hooves on the ground that signalled the approach of many horses at full tilt. James looked around and saw the flicker of lights in the distance. There could be no doubt that it was a party of pursuers.

‘No!’ the woman cried, and James thought he’d never heard a more desperate sound.

‘Head back to the forest,’ Black cried and, at once, they turned the horses away from the track and up the sloping ground towards the cover of the trees. But the noise of the hooves was unrelenting and louder by the second. Their change of course seemed to make no difference. The torches were clear now, clear enough to be counted. Not less than a dozen, James reckoned, as he held on to the servant urging their horse up the slope until the trees came into view. They still had a chance, if they could get in to the forest.

‘Come on!’ James said. ‘We can still do it!’

It was too late. They had barely reached the edge of the forest when their pursuers caught up with them. The servant leaped from the horse and drew his cutlass, and Black seized his lover and held her close to him as he brandished his sword.

‘It’s no use, Charlotte,’ a voice said from one of the horses.

James, who had slipped off the horse and was now standing beside the couple, ready to defend his friends with his bare hands, stared at the owner of the voice, an older man with the air of someone used to being obeyed. Several of the party had dismounted and drawn their weapons. One had a pistol aimed at Tom Black, while two others quickly overpowered the servant and another seized James roughly, knocked him down and pinioned him with a knee on his chest. James could hardly believe he’d come so close to freedom only to be caught so simply.

‘I can finish him here,’ the man with the pistol said of Tom Black.

‘No,’ said the leader, who had remained mounted. ‘He’ll die in the manner prescribed by the law. There’s no need to anticipate that now.’

‘Do what you like with me, but let Charlotte go,’ Black pleaded.

‘It’s too late for that’ came the reply. ‘There’ll be no bargaining. You shall all suffer the consequences of your actions.’

‘Run, Charlotte,’ Black said, pushing her to one side, and lunging suddenly at the man with the pistol.

The pistol fired, but Black had managed to tip the barrel upwards with his sword, and a nearby tree bore the impact of the ball. It was all Black managed to do, for, within seconds, he was attacked from all directions, and his sword fell uselessly to the ground.

‘Bind them’ came the order from above. Black and Charlotte were bound and set on their own horses. James and the
servant were tied to the horses’ tails and had to run smartly to avoid being dragged on the ground. They travelled like that for many hours until they came to a sleeping town. Their procession through the silent streets was noisy and unusual enough to cause a few window frames to be raised and heads to peer down. One or two observers called down to know what the news was, and were met with answers from some of the riders, but the commotion was quickly stopped by the wronged husband. When they came to the town gaol one of the horsemen opened up the doors. James later discovered he was the gaoler. They were all bundled into different cells and shut up for the night.