Raised By Wolves 2 - Matelots (41 page)

“Dieppe, my boy, do you wish to die?” I asked with a grin. “Or is your mental ability truly of such deficiency? If you wish to duel with me, say so; do not waste words attempting to disparage my judgment or my matelot’s vanity. Do as the three men I killed yesterday morning did, and threaten my man’s life.”

This gave him pause, and set Rizzo and Cudro to snickering again.

“Come now,” I goaded further. “We can easily have two duels this morn. The Brethren will already be assembled. We can bury the both of you in the same shallow grave. And I would be on with it quickly. I would like to break the fast, as I do not know what the day will bring and who might attempt to kill us, much of which is due to your …

friend, I might add.”

“You are a liar, and he is not my matelot.” He spat the word.

“That is a shame, as you have so very much in common,” I sighed.

“You are both arrogant fools. And now, as you are a well-traveled man, purportedly experienced with the ways of men in the world, and thus surely know that calling another man a liar has been the start of many a duel, what say you? Will you grant me satisfaction, or will you gracefully apologize and allow good Rizzo here to preside over what we must discuss?”

Dieppe glared at him, and then back at me. “Though I do not doubt my ability to best you, I do not wish to duel with you at this time,” he said with a less than humble tilt of his head.

“He’s not jesting about the apology,” Cudro rumbled before I could speak.

I smiled. “Non, I am not. I will have satisfaction one way or the other.”

His gaze did not leave mine. “I am sorry I named you a liar, my Lord.”

A number of men had risen near the place where we stood, and we now had an audience. I weighed the matter in my mind. I did not think I would gain much by killing him this morning, but I was not satisfied.

“Are you sorry for naming me one, or were you in error in doing so?”

I asked.

Dieppe hissed very quietly, but his voice was level when he spoke. “I only know that what we hear of your version of events varies from what my friend says occurred on Île de la Tortue.”

I spoke with vigor, so that our audience missed none of it. “I will accept your apology then, as you are merely speaking from loyalty to your friend. I would caution you, though. I was once his friend, and he betrayed me on Île de la Tortue. And we stand here now to discuss the terms of his dueling with a friend of his since boyhood, a man he goaded into a duel yesterday by casting aspersions against the man’s matelot, much as you just attempted with me. So I will add this: if you do not approve of matelotage, perhaps you should return to Christendom.”

As I expected, a number of our growing audience cheered at this.

Dieppe looked about as if just realizing how many listened.

I smiled and returned my attention to Rizzo. “The terms I have heard are pistols.”

“First blood?” Rizzo asked.

“In a manner of speaking.” I shrugged. “I am not aware of either party stipulating the matter go until death, though death will most likely result.”

Dieppe shrugged. “First blood is acceptable.”

“If both men should wound the other and still be standing?” Rizzo asked.

“As they are former friends,” I said, “I would not want them constrained by decisions we might make if that were to occur. Let us agree to parlay if there is no clear winner after the first round.”

“I agree: as there will not be a second.” Dieppe shrugged.

“As for form,” I said, “we have thought it will be back-to-back, ten paces, and then turn upon a signal to fire.”

‘That is our thought on the matter,” Dieppe concurred.

Rizzo shrugged. “I care not. Get your men. We will have the duel here.” He indicated a corridor of level sand running so that neither man would have the sun behind him. “Bring their pieces to me before you load them.”

“That is acceptable,” I said.

Dieppe nodded his assent and picked his way through the assembling men toward Tom.

I was about to turn away when I saw Chat Noir regarding me. I raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged and gave me a respectful nod before he too turned away. I knew not what to make of it, but at least his gaze was no longer disdainful.

Cudro and I returned to our friends. Discussion of my words with Dieppe leaped from one clump of men to the next before us, until by the time we reached our cabal, they were all listening to Liam’s version of events.

Gaston confronted me with folded arms and a teasing smile. “I cannot let you out of my sight.”

I grinned. “You could see me well enough; it is your hearing you must keep me within.”

“Why did you not duel with him?” Striker joined us to ask.

“I did not think killing two men would be in our favor this day.” I shrugged. “And he provided me a better forum by his refusal. Though, we shall see what comes of it. I will give you the details after this matter is resolved.”

I looked about and spied Dickey with the Bard, well down the beach and in the surf. I was thankful he had not heard any of it. I went to join them.

“It is time,” I told Dickey. “All is as we planned.”

Dickey sighed with relief, but I noticed he was not as calm as he had been before. Fear lurked in his eyes.

I looked at the Bard. “You know I would never hurt him?”

The Bard nodded.

I slapped Dickey so that his head rocked around and I was sure he tasted blood. There was fire in his eyes when they met mine.

“What the Devil did you do that for?” he roared.

“That is better,” I said.

The Bard was chuckling.

Dickey gave his matelot one last kiss on the cheek and allowed me to tow him away. Our cabal and many of the men from the Virgin Queen had gone to stand at the side of the dueling corridor. The Bard went to join them. Cudro and Gaston followed Dickey and me. They stopped at the edge of the audience, while Dickey and I walked into the center of the dueling space to meet Rizzo.

“Do not seek your opponent,” I whispered to Dickey as we approached. “Nor should you look for the Bard. I want you to calmly watch birds wheeling overhead and think of how your body will move.”

I presented Rizzo with Dickey’s choice of pistol – one of mine – and he inspected it. Dieppe did the same, and then we watched one another load the weapons. Dieppe declined an exchange of them; and, satisfied, we handed the pieces to our respective combatants.

Only then did I spare a look at Dickey and Tom. Dickey was following my orders, his eyes on the distant horizon. Tom was glaring at me. He had taken to wearing a thin beard and a hat, but he was as handsome as ever.

“Are you satisfied?” he spat, loudly enough that I could not ignore him; though exchanging words in front of Dickey was not a thing I wanted.

“I feel I will be,” I said calmly. “I am sorry it came to this.”

“Aye,” he said with vigor and volume, “that you should divide two friends so that I should have to kill poor Dickey.”

I snorted and spoke to be heard as he had. “Tom, if Dickey does not kill you for his own reasons, you will have me to face on another morn for the injury you have done me and mine. I very much want you dead for your betrayal; it caused no end of hardship to others that might have been avoided. If you had not sided with Doucette against us, and left us at his mercy when we were injured, even Doucette’s suffering might have been avoided. But nay, you turned your back on your Brethren.”

Tom had no ready answer for that, and I did not wait for him to concoct one. There was a great deal of noise from the audience now, as unlike my exchange with Dieppe, any who wished to hear this exchange needed a translation: Tom and I had spoken in English. It was either playing well for us, or against us. I vowed not to worry on it at the moment.

I stepped in front of Dickey to whisper, “You did not start this.”

Dickey nodded with a sad smile. “I will not leave Francis alone, not for him.”

“Good.” I said with conviction, even though his words were not precisely what I wished to hear. They would have to do.

I went to join my matelot, and found him somber and trying very hard to ignore the men about him. I turned to watch the duel and stepped back so that my left shoulder pressed against his chest. I was relieved when he leaned into me, his arm stealing about my waist.

Rizzo put the two of them back to back. Tom appeared confident.

Dickey appeared to be deep in thought. If I did not know the two of them as I did, I would have been concerned. The count began and they walked ten paces. Tom walked with precision, concentrating on maintaining a straight line in the sand. Dickey wavered on a few steps and ended up standing a good foot to the right of where he should have if he had gone straight. It appeared such an honest mistake I could not say if he had done so out of nervousness as it appeared, or whether he had actually been following my instructions. I smiled.

Rizzo shouted, “Fire!”

My eyes were on Tom. It all happened very fast, so fast it would be difficult to follow unless one had watched as many duels as I have.

Tom turned smartly on his feet so that he was side on to the target as he raised his pistol. His eyes widened when Dickey was not where he expected. There was a long moment in which he had to locate and aim at Dickey. The retort from Dickey’s pistol surprised him ever so slightly, and then the ball hit under his right arm and he was knocked back on his heels. His pistol discharged, not wildly, but while the muzzle was rising. Then the piece tumbled from his grasp as he crumpled to the ground.

Only then did I look at Dickey. My smile broadened. He was nearly in a fencing stance. He had dropped his right foot back and pivoted low as we had drilled. His pistol was tautly held at the end of its arm, where it had swung like a weight. I was sure he had stopped the swing and depressed the trigger the exact moment the muzzle crossed Tom. His opponent’s shot had gone well over his head, while Dickey’s had most probably been mortal.

Dickey’s face was very sad to behold, though. It was frozen somewhere between triumph and guilt. I knew that look well, as I had felt it on my own face many times before.

Tom was not dead yet, but the ball was well up in his chest. Dieppe was already with him, and I was heartened that the man did appear to care for Tom. Rizzo declared the match, and two of the surgeons rushed to Tom as well.

The Bard and the rest of our cabal toppled Dickey with their elation.

And then they were occluded from our view by other men surging into the area. To my dismay, some of those men were more interested in Gaston and me than the fate of the combatants. We were soon surrounded by angry Frenchmen, and I silently cursed our stupidity.

I felt Gaston behind me at my left hip. I remembered Cudro being on my other side, and I was relieved when a glance over my right shoulder found him looming over us protectively.

The mood was angry all about us, and we were too tightly hemmed to draw swords. It was with great effort I did not pull my pistols. Though instinct dictated we must defend ourselves, I knew the act would merely provide them an excuse to bear us down, and we could not battle so many. I envisioned the scene from the tavern in Port Royal, only this time the fists and feet would not stop until the blackness took us both.

I prayed. I did not know what I could offer the Gods for Their beneficence, and so first I prayed They were not on account. Then I prayed that They would deliver us from this mob. That Their love required no balance: that last night’s glory and wonder did not have to be paid for with our blood. Had we not paid enough already in our lives? If They were truly beneficial beings worthy of worship, could They not simply save us? Or barring that, deliver unto us the means to save ourselves?

And then there was no more time for it. We were being jostled all about, as if we were foxes in a cage before a pack of hounds. If I was afraid of the anger of the men about us, I was terrified of the mood of the one behind me. If he lost his temper now, we were done for. I extended a hand behind me and found Gaston’s belly. To my relief, his hand was quickly in mine, squeezing tightly. It was the only gauge I had of his demeanor: I could not spare him a glance.

A blond man with a livid scar over one eye stepped before me.

“Doucette is a fine man,” he snarled in French.

“I do not argue that,” I growled back. “Yet he tried to take my matelot from me. I care not if he was Saint Paul.”

“Your matelot is mad! He cannot be trusted!” the man before me raged.

Gaston’s right hand had stolen around my right side again, and now he clung to me, his breath fast on my back, his forehead pressed into my shoulder.

“I’ve got his back,” Cudro rumbled.

I heard Pete coming for us from off to my left. There was equal noise off to the right.

Somewhere in all the sound, I heard the tinkle of laughter, somewhat like Teresina’s only infinitely more sublime. The Gods were laughing at me – again. They had already delivered unto me love and friendship; what more could I ask? What else should I have faith in?

I felt infused with power born of hope and faith.

I smiled and yelled back at the blond man. “My matelot is mad! But at this moment he is sane enough to know he cannot take you all on as a madman would! I know many of you have seen him at his worst! He is better now that he is with me! Let us be! Let us see what the future holds!”

I saw gazes dart to Gaston, and there was still reason behind them.

A man on my left spread his arms and then elbowed another man, who jostled him toward us. The blond man who had confronted me was frowning at Gaston, but more from curiosity and disapproval than the anger that had gripped him before.

“The boy said Doucette was trying to heal him,” someone called out.

It was echoed through the crowd.

“Doucette was torturing him!” Pierrot roared from somewhere to our right. “I saw it! I beat the bastard for it! If you have issue with him being stupid, you talk to me!”

“Is it true Doucette coveted him?” a voice asked to our right and somewhat behind us.

I looked, but could not see any who would meet my gaze and own the speaking of it. “My matelot brings out the best and the worst in many men,” I told them all sincerely. “Doucette was angry my matelot arrived there with me.”