Raised By Wolves 2 - Matelots (30 page)

Pierrot chuckled at my supposed hubris. I wished it were arrogance on my part.

“So we have a scapegoat to be killed,” Gaston said. “What is the lie?”

“Hold, let me mutter a moment,” I said.

Thoughts had been flopping about in my mind like landed fish.

There was always a crux. I kept thinking Pierrot had spoken of it, but I could not recall precisely what had made me think that. I did indeed begin to mutter to myself. “The truth does not matter. The truth is that Doucette got what he deserved. But no one believes he deserved anything. They all feel he was a saint and they wonder… why… That is it.” I looked at them each in turn. “We must give Doucette an evil, yet plausible, motivation. We must give him a reason for harming Gaston, one that will make your average buccaneer believe it was necessary for Gaston and me to fight him.”

“Will, Doucette believed he was trying to help Gaston,” Striker said.

“And I know, that does not matter, but I can think of…”

“The money,” Gaston said. “Because it is truth in part. I arrived on Île de la Tortue with a matelot and asked for what was mine. Doucette disapproved of matelotage, and did not wish to surrender my money, or me. And though it was not a matter of the loins in that regard, it can be said he was jealous.”

I grinned. It was perfect, as there was so very much truth in it.

Pierrot nodded. “Oui, all know he did not approve of matelotage, but, many spoke of his affection for Gaston and assumed they were lovers.”

He spread his hands wide and shrugged eloquently. “But what money?”

“Over twenty thousand pounds,” I said.

Pierrot blinked in surprise.

“Gaston’s father had been sending Doucette money to care for him for years,” I said. “In addition to money he sent here with Gaston.

Doucette lived very well.” A thing occurred to me and I smiled. “And I would wager he is considered so saintly because he never charged for his services.”

“Exactly,” Gaston said. “It is now apparent he lived off the money my father gave him.”

“Damn,” Striker said with bemusement. “That is so believable I feel it might actually be the truth.”

“Ya Be Mean,” Pete said, as if it reflected well upon my character.

“Thank you, in this matter I feel it is warranted. So, this tale must be spread about. It can be leavened with further truths. Such as, because Gaston is mad, Doucette seized upon the scheme to lock him away and treat him so that I could not leave with him, or the money.

And that I was stabbed in an altercation between the two of them about the matter. And that I was forced to rescue Gaston from his clutches, and in that debacle, Doucette was wounded such as he is. Additionally, all must be pointed toward the scapegoat as the source of the other information. The French must understand that he betrayed us.”

Striker frowned. “Though marriage and matelotage are separate things in the eyes of the Brethren, still, Doucette did not condone matelotage and he did have a wife. Some may question his having feelings for Gaston.”

“He is married to a scarred, former whore he took in out of pity, as she reminded him of Gaston,” I said.

“You have thought of everything.” Striker grinned. “All right, we will spread this new truth. And I suppose Gaston will duel with Tom on Cow Island.”

In truth, I still hoped I would be the one to duel Tom. “Aye, if Tom makes himself available. If not, at least we will have set the stage.”

Pierrot was smiling. “I never wish to be your enemy, my friend.”

“I do not think that likely. Thank you for your assistance in this.”

“As I said, I am to blame as well. This may not relieve my conscience, but it will clear my name.” He stood. “I would embrace you, but…”

I chuckled and grimaced at doing so. They left us.

Gaston and I sat quietly.

“I feel much better,” I said.

“You are indeed a formidable opponent. I am truly impressed.” His nod was somber.

“Thank you. It is a shame about Doucette, though,” I sighed.

He frowned. “How so? I am pleased his name will be sullied.”

I shook my head. “Not that, non, that he is an imbecile we may never get proper revenge upon. It is truly disappointing. The bastard will go to his grave thinking he was in the right.”

“And that bothers you more than his being reduced to a fool who mumbles about his house and tries to grow plants upside down, as Pierrot says he does now?” Gaston asked with amusement.

“Is he aware of all that he has lost?”

“I do not know,” he said soberly.

“Well if he is, and he rues it, then justice was served.”

Gaston was regarding me with bemusement. “It is good to know that you are not as saintly as you appear to me.”

“I appear saintly to you?”

“You are an angel,” he said seriously.

“Then why would my not being one please you?” I asked with amusement.

“I have felt I could not equal you in goodness, that I am a dark and shadowed thing in comparison. But non, I think I only see your pure side. You have shadows too.”

“I am sure I have as many dark thoughts as you claim to harbor,” I said seriously.

“Do you harbor fantasies of flogging me?” he asked.

“Non,” I sighed.

“Then, non.”

I nodded. “You are correct, all that is light and goodness in my heart shines upon you.”

He shook his head slowly. “Non. You are still a better person than I.”

“Why must one of us be better than the other?” I asked with a little annoyance.

He smiled with his familiar annoyed wonderment. “Will, not even the Gods could love as you do.”

I thought the Gods did love as I did, and that made Them very human.

It was with great relief that we said our farewells to Theodore and Agnes and boarded the Virgin Queen the next day. My relief soured somewhat when I felt the questioning gazes upon us as we came over the gunwale. The deck was full of men: some I recognized; some I did not; all seemed to take great interest in us. I wished we had chosen to slip aboard that night, when darkness and revelry would have disguised my wounds, or at least concealed their stares. Thankfully, we were greeted warmly by our friends, even if they did look askance at Gaston and my bruises.

My matelot did little to assuage their fears. I knew well their curious eyes stabbed him like sticks poking at an angry boar in a cage. I expected that he would never be able to placate them in the aftermath of a bout. He could not simply throw it off and affix a happy meaningless smile to his lips to plead the case of sanity. He would always feel guilt over whatever madness-induced incident might have occurred, and it would far outweigh any curious observer’s concern-borne censure of his behavior. Thus he would ever glower and withdraw, ironically reinforcing their opinion of the poor quality of his sanity. And so, I smiled and stayed with Striker to make greeting and feign nothing was amiss, while Pete, Cudro, and Gaston took our things to the cabin.

“How are you?” the Bard asked quietly.

Dickey, Liam, Otter, Davey, and Julio were quiet, listening for my response, as were a half-dozen other men within earshot.

I grinned as I was able around my damaged lip. “Much as I look, yet I am in fine spirits now that we will be sailing.”

“Iffn ya feel up ta it,” Liam said.

At the number of nods and glances toward the cabin door, I surmised it was a common sentiment.

“We,” I said firmly, “will be better off at sea.”

“Amongst friends,” Liam added emphatically.

This brought chuckles from the rest of our cabal.

“Aye, I feel it will be safer here, for a multitude of reasons,” I said.

The Bard frowned. “Can you speak of it? We’ve been hearing a number of things.”

“Aye,” Striker interjected, and then spoke quietly to me. “You may as well now. Look at the others.”

I had seen the gazes still upon us from the men outside our cabal.

Now that I was standing on the deck and willing to meet them, I found that not all of them were merely curious; some appeared hostile. The sooner we told our friends what to tell the crew, the better. Of course, that meant I needed to explain to Dickey how I planned to kill his childhood friend.

“Aye,” I sighed. “Let us retire to the cabin, as I need to sit; and I will tell you of it, and other things you might find of interest.”

Striker remained on deck, with Pete and Cudro, who had long since departed the cabin. The rest of our cabal joined Gaston in the small room. We found my matelot under the table arranging our gear.

I gingerly lowered myself to join him. I wanted to lie on the mattress he had stuffed between the table legs, but I knew I must sit a while longer.

Gaston raised a curious eyebrow as everyone found places to sit on the room’s few chairs or the hammocks, or space to lean against the bulkhead.

“We need to tell them of the plan,” I said quietly in French.

He sighed uncomfortably.

I took his hand and turned my attention to the others.

“We have heard a number of things ourselves,” I said.

“What ’appened ta ya?” Liam asked. “We heard the pair o’ ya took on a tavern, an’ then Striker says Gaston had a bout o’ his and took on the tavern and ya got in the middle o’ it.”

“That is what happened,” Gaston said with a guilty mien before I could speak.

I looked up at the room of curious and concerned faces. These were our friends. We had to have faith in that.

“My father wishes for me to marry,” I said.

Gaston rubbed my fingers reassuringly and I was relieved. We had not discussed what we would say.

Curiosity among our audience was quickly replaced by frowns, and then gazes darted between Gaston and me.

“That is… Let me finish,” I added quickly. “He is sending a bride. We want none of it. We decided to choose our own. I could simply abandon my inheritance, but… there may yet be some value to it. So, I must marry to appease my father; so, we endeavored to court. Worry not, it all came to naught, but during the entirety of it we found ourselves quite vexed, and…”

“I lost my way,” Gaston said. “I quarreled with Will, and… I felt great guilt over it and wished to punish myself, so I… angered the men in the tavern. It is a thing I have done before during bouts: knowing they will beat me into a stupor. But this time, Will got in the middle of it, as the damn fool would not see me hurt.”

Gaston had kept his gaze steadfastly on the floor as he spoke. I had not, thus I had witnessed bemusement and sympathy wash over our audience.

The Bard was grinning. “Well ain’t you two the pair. You can’t even fight like normal men.”

I was appalled at that perception of events. I wished to argue that it was not as if we had fought and I had lost and Gaston had beaten me soundly in a fit of temper, but perhaps it was that way after a fashion: the end result was the same. Whenever Gaston lost his temper, I lost blood. I found the concept disturbing.

“Well ya seen ’em sparrin’,” Liam added with his own smile. “They canna’ be fightin’ one anuther proper. That would be a right mess.”

This brought amusement all around, even from Davey.

I was surprised that Liam’s words cleared the clouds that had gathered in my heart as well. The Bard was correct in another way: Gaston and I were not ordinary men. If we were, we would have killed each other months ago.

“So where da things stand o’er this wife matter?” Liam asked soberly.

I smiled. “Well, she did not wish to marry us anymore than we truly wished to marry her, so she fled. Now I do not know what we shall do if and when the bride my father has promised arrives. He very much desires that I produce an heir, especially since I am engaged in such dangerous pursuits.”

Liam and the Bard were amused, but Otter, Dickey and Julio appeared somber and thoughtful. I wondered at that.

“I have never wished for children,” I said carefully.

There were several sighs. Otter was studying the floor and not his matelot, who in turn appeared uncomfortable.

“Children would be nice,” Julio said seriously, and then glanced about as if he had admitted some terrible thing.

Davey frowned at his matelot as if poor Julio had grown two heads.

It was much as I must have looked at Gaston when first he told me of his desire for puppies.

“I want children,” Gaston said. “And I dare not sire my own. They would be as mad as I.”

This elicited even more sober contemplation of the woodwork from all present.

“It is a thing we canna’ do fur one anuther,” Liam said sadly. “We ’ad us a wife once. An Indian girl. We wanted one an’ we traded ’er father a fine musket for ’er. We left ’er in this village on the Haiti with other Brethren wives an’ children an’ some men that ’ad turned to plantin’.

The damn Spanish raided it. She’s gone. We don’ know what became o’

’er. She was with child. Don’ know whose it were. Some that were there say she died. So we didna’ go an’ look fer ’er. We didna’ ’ave the heart ta find another.”

I could see scars between them in the way that Liam rubbed his matelot’s thigh in a gesture of both placation and reassurance, and Otter stared at the floor with guilt and old anger. I wondered how long ago the loss of the woman and child had wounded them. I was honored they had spoken of it at all. I did not feel I could ask any questions.

“I am sorry,” I said.

“We may well do it again,” Otter said softly. “We are getting too old to rove.”

Liam appeared to have doubt over that, but he schooled his face before Otter looked his way.

Davey was still studying Julio with consternation, and I thought they would have much to discuss later, or perhaps they would not discuss it at all, as some men are not wont to speak of such things. The Gods knew I had spent months with this lot and this was the first time children had been mentioned.

“We can’t rove forever,” the Bard said thoughtfully. He looked up at all of us. “We’ve been… I have long thought that I waste a goodly amount of time waiting to go out and raid again and… There’s good money to be made sailing between here and the northern colonies and England. And…”