Drum (36 page)

"No, Bernard." Dominique shook his head. "Drum won fairly." He turned to the men, now pressing close to the two fighters. "What say you men, did Drum win?"

As the majority had placed their money on Drum, they were loud in their support of Dominique, but it was most evident that Marigny did not agree with them. He had planned much and bet heavily on Babouin. Far more than the loss ol the money, he regretted the thrill of that long anticipatec moment of victory and the boasting pride he could take ic owning New Orleans' champion.

"The fight is not over." Marigny tried hard to control hi rage. "Both men are able to fight. I insist that it go on."

A chorus of "no"s silenced him.

"It seems to be agreed among those present that Drum is the victor." Dominique You placed an arm around Drum's shoulder. "Therefore, Bernard, we shall fight no more tonight but if you wish, we can make arrangements for a return engagement—say two weeks from tonight."

"Unless the fight is finished tonight, there will be no return engagement." Bernard could no longer control himself. "I had thought I was dealing with gentlemen. It seems that I am not. You're not a person I shall challenge, Dominique You. A Marigny does not soil his sword with the blood of a Lafitte pirate." He turned his back on Dominique You and called to Babouin, "Get your pants, you goddamned baboon and follow me. Fifty lashes for you tomorrow for letting yourself get choked." He did not wait to see if Babouin was behind him but turned and strode across the court to the porte-cochere. Someone handed Babouin his trousers and he slipped into them, ru nnin g after Marigny.

At the entrance to the porte-cochere, Marigny halted and turned. Babouin was immediately behind him and he brushed him aside.

"Lazare," he called, "aren't you coming with me?" Lazare and Bernard were inseparable. Where one went the other always followed.

"Not tonight, Bernard!" Lazare had no desire to leave. "I am staying to celebrate Drum's victory. Ill meet you later."

"Indeed you shall!" Marigny's voice was hot with anger. "You'll meet me later in St. Anthony's gardens, at five in the morning."

Lazare LeToscan ran across the courtyard to Marigny and laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Good God, Bernard, are you challenging me?"

"Most certainly! Tonight is a test of our friendship.'*

"As if our friendship needed to be tested, Bernard."

"Any man who is not with me is my enemy. Our seconds will attend us at five."

"Think, Bernard, think what you are doing. Do not let this momentary pique over losing a stupid fight destroy our friendship. You are acting ridiculously."

Marigny advanced one step which brought him close to LeToscan. Slowly and deliberately, without taking his eyes from LeToscan's, he reached behind, his hand searching for something in the tail pockets of his coat. He drew forth a lemon-colored kid glove, regarded it a second, then stared

again at LeToscan. Deliberately he raised his hand with the glove and slapped LeToscan across the cheek.

"Unless you are a coward, you will fight me."

"Very well, Bernard." LeToscan shook his head and sighed. "If you insist that I kill you, I regret that I must." LeToscan bowed formally. "At five?"

"At five! Pistols or rapiers, Lazare?"

"Rapiers, Bernard."

"Then do me the favor to bring the set your father sent you from Spain. You are more accustomed to them." Marigny stepped from behind Lazare LeToscan so that he could see the circle of faces in the courtyard, all of whom were aghast at what had happened. He nodded briefly.

"Messieurs, the question as to who has the better fighter, Madame de Vaux or Bernard de Marigny, has already been settled in my own mind. I am convinced that my ugly monster is the better fighter. I shall, however, honor all my bets without protest. Good night, messieurs."

At five-twenty the next morning, Lazare LeToscan died with one of his own rapiers through his heart. He was twenty-four years old, popular, supremely handsome and enormously wealthy, but he was dead. All New Orleans mourned him but nobody more than his best friend, Bernard de Marigny, who had killed him. It was said that Marigny wept as he walked away from the duel, leaving Lazare LeToscan's corpse on the groimd behind him.

chapter ix

Some two miles out of the city, in the newly developed Faubourg Marigny, Drum and Blaise passed daily, on their morning workout run, a little spring which bubbled up between two large stones to fonn a limpid cress-rimmed pool. Over it spread the wide branches of an ancient live oak, bearded with long gray streamers of Spanish moss. Behind the tree, growing in almost tropical lushness, was a thicket of palmettos, interlaced with a jungle of wild lantanier. Because of the clear water of the spring, this had become a stopping place for Drum and Blaise, marking as it did nearly the middle of their course. It had become such a well-established habit to stop there that they had filched a couple of tin cups from Alix' kitchen, which were kept hidden in a crotch of the tree, and every day they drank deeply of the cool water and threw themselves down on the patch of grass imder the shade to catch their breath for the return to town.

As always, they had stopped this morning, their shirts plastered to their backs with sweat, out of breath and dog tired. Blaise filled the cups and brought them to where Drum was sitting. Together they gulped the water greedily and then flung themselves, belly down, onto the soft grass under the big oak. For some moments they remained motionless, eyes closed, breathing hard and fast to regain their wind. Each knew that it was time to start back but he procrastinated, savoring the sweetness of relaxation a Uttle longer. Aie! it was good to do nothing; to erase all reality from one's thoughts; to be neither black nor white; to be neither slave nor free. For these few moments they had no responsibilities, no fights, no demanding mistress, no Rachel with work to be done, no white men waiting for drinks, no melee that demanded their attention. Here they were devoid of any per-isonality and became merely breathing organisms, luxuriating I in the filtered sun^iine that was drying their backs and the cool grass that was smooth against their cheeks.

Blaise stretched out his long arm across the grass to shake Drum's shoulder. Just as he was about to speak, he heard the cracking of a stick back in the tangle of shrubbery. In the stillness, the sound was magnified to a pistol shot.

"Whas-sat?" Blaise propped himself up on his elbow and gazed into the thicket of lantanier.

"Somebody's goat," Drum yawned. "Lie down, nigger, let's take five minutes more to.. .."

His words were not finished. Three men leaped out of the shrubbery and flung themselves down on Drum and Blaise. The very suddenness of the attack stunned them and their struggles were useless. Strong arms pinned them to the groimd, muscular legs straddled them.

'Turn 'em ovah." The words had a thick, Georgian accent. "Turn 'em two bah-sta'ds ovah and let 'em see who's gonna beat the livin' shit outa that theah high yello' fancy boy."

The pinioning arms relaxed just enough to flop Drum and Blaise over onto their backs but each foimd a biuly slave astride his chest with his knees pinning down their arms, his hand clutching at their throats. A pair of thick, bandy legs, like sawed-off trunks of trees, wedged their way in between the shoulders of the big blacks. Drum had no need to look] up to recognize who it was. The malformed legs told him it was Babouin and when he confirmed it, by letting his eyesi wander up the soiled, grease-blotched pantaloons to the huge: chest which showed through the imbuttoned shirt, he saw the malevolent face of Marigny's fighter.

"Ain' no white mens heah now to pertect yo' fancy boys. Jes' me, Babouin! Tha's all! An' you know what I'm a-goin to do to you? I'm a-goin' to beat hell out o' yo', yo' goddam Drum. And then,"—Babouin drew a short, stubby knife; from his belt—"I'm a-goin' to carve my name on yo' belly, so's all the world will know that Babouin whupped you.

Drum tried to wriggle out of the gra^ of the slave who; was on his chest, but he was helpless.

"Might be yo' think I'se ignor'nt," Babouin continued.! "Might be yo' think I cain't spell, might be," Babouin leeredJ "Spell my name good, I kin. Listen I B-a-b-o-u-i-n. How's 'at? Kin write it good, too. Gonna write in on your yellow belly. How you likes dat, huh?" He breathd on the knife, wiped it oi hi^ pants and tested the edge with this thumb. "Sharp's i razor, boy. Shave yo' hair right off. Sure cuts good. What yo'aU's got to say, who'house boy?"

*'I say let me up and let me fight you." The hand

Drum's windpipe relaxed enough for him to speak. "I fought you fair the other night. Now you fight me fair."

"Sho' I let you up. I let's you fight fair. Ho, hoi" Hands on hips, Babouin looked down at Drum and roared. "I fights yo' fair, fancy boy, 'cause I likes to fight but I fights yo* wid de knife and you fights me wid yo' bare hands. Tha's fairl Let 'im up!" Babouin nudged the slave who was sitting on Drum. "Let's see how he kin fight 'thout no big white mens to pertect him."

The slave slid off Drum and he jumped to his feet.

"Keep a-hold of that other fancy boy, Bouc-noir," Babouin cautioned the slave sitting on Blaise, "and yo', Michel, yo' run down to Masta Marigny's and tell him and he's frens that Babouin done caught dis heah Drum. Tell him I waits to carve my name on hirn till he's comin'."

The slave called Michel started off on a run. Drum knew that the Marigny pavilion was about a quarter of a mile away. Allowing perhaps ten minutes for the slave to run there and another ten minutes for Marigny and his friends to return on their horses, he had about twenty minutes. But it made little difference if Marigny were there, for Marigny's [>resence would not necessarily guarantee a fair fight. Marigny was out to get him. He shifted his eyes long enough Erom Babouin to glance down at Blaise, still struggling but ield on the ground. Drum was tempted to run, for he knew hat Babouin's short legs would never catch him, but he X)uldn't leave Blaise behind for he knew that Babouin would weak his vengeance on him. After all, Blaise was his own nig-jer. He couldn't desert him.

Warily Drum circled around, keeping his distance from Sabouin who crouched with arms outspread to gather Drum nto his gorilla embrace. The sunlight glinted on the short )lade of the knife, and its reflection seemed to be an evil tye which followed Drum wherever he went. The space in vhich they fought, however, was limited—only the little )atch of greensward imder the tree, and as Drum retreated, le found himself up against the tangle of shrubs ind vines. Carefully he circled, hoping to get out into the >pen space of the road, but before he could maneuver it, Jabouin made a grab for him and caught him. For a few noments, Drum struggled and managed to get in a few elling blows, but, although he could see Babouin wince from he force with which the blows struck him, they were as in-sSective as the sting of a mosquito. The big arms closed

around him. Drum filled his chest with air, knowing that when he expelled it, he would achieve a tiny shrinkage which might allow him to slip out, for the residue of oil and the; recent sweat on his body made him slippery as an eel. Yet, although he forced out every breath of air in his chest and wriggled as much as he could, he could not loosen the other's hold.

"Fifty lashes I took on my back 'cause of yo', fancy boy," Babouin muttered. "Fifty lashes, and I'd of tooken fifty more if n Masta Marigny hadn't made me promise to carve yo' up.'

Drum tried for the hold that had been successful in hi; previous fight with Babouin, struggling to extricate his arn and reach the other's throat but Babouin had learned the trick.

"No, you don', who'house boy. And don't think you kii knee me neither. Got 'em weU wrapped up today so's yoi can't hurt 'em. Come prepared I did. Think I'll put my nami on yo' back too. Look pretty there."

Drum felt the pressure of one of the huge arms rela: slightly and the warmth of a hand creeping up under hi shirt. A sting of pain slashed at his shoulder. The paij caused him to cry out and he redoubled his efforts to fr© himself. Suddenly, much to his surprise, he saw Blaise* face over Babouin's shoulder. He saw Blaise raise his arm! saw a huge branch of wood in his hands. Swiftly the cudg^ descended,- and he heard the dull thud as it came in cob tact with Babouin's head, and felt the immense arms slowl relax. As he stood, free, straining to fill his lungs with ai he saw Blaise reach down to the recumbent Babouin, take tl knife from the inert fingers and plunge it in the man's throa The blood gushed out and Blaise laughed, raising his foe to kick the carmined face.

Blaise brought his heel down once more, then stopped.

"Hurry," he pushed Drum ahead of him to the roai "Marignyll be here any minute. Don' want him to Sud i here with his two dead slaves. No tellin' what he'd do to usi

Drum came to his senses. He hurried along beside Blaisi As he passed the slave who had been sitting on Blaise' chest, he noticed him stretched out on the ground, a splotc of blood on liis dirty pants. Where his face had been thei was only a yawning, bloody mass on which the flies wei already settling.

"Better hide." Blaise had suddenly taken command of tl situation. "Marigny'll follow us if we keep to the road. Can

get back to the city now. They have horses and they'll ride us down."

"Over there," Drum pointed as he ran. "Ditch!"

They ran faster now, keeping off the road and taking advantage of any cover they could find- Once Blaise became entangled in a web of ground-spreading bindweed that snared his feet and caused him to stumble. He still had Babouin's knife in his hand, and he reached down and slashed at the vines to extricate himself.

Drum pointed to a straight line of green shrubs and when they reached it, they plunged down the steep bank into the water. The tall reeds that grew in the muddy ditch provided a good covering and they sank their bodies into the water, keeping only their heads free.

Drum broke off one of the reeds and handed the hollow section to Blaise. "If they come, put this in your mouth and keep your head under water. You can breathe through it. I don't think Marigny'U chase us. He'd have let Babouin kill the both of us sure 'nough but now he's got two dead niggers on his hands and it won't look too good for him to have two more."