The Mark of the Golden Dragon (40 page)

"No ... wait," I manage to say, still weaving on my pins. "Jaimy...?"

"He is all right, Princess," says Allen. "Don't worry. Now, as for you..."

Just then the red-coated Private Archie MacDuff bursts into our little circle of dim moonlight, followed by the rest of the Dragoons, with a struggling Lieutenant Harry Flashby secure in the burly arms of Sergeant Bailey. He had run off only to shortly find himself locked in that firm and quite unfriendly embrace.

"We nabbed 'im roight off, Sor," announces Bailey. "He's the Highwayman, roight, Sor?"

"He is, indeed, Sergeant," says Allen, who goes up and puts his face in Flashby's. Leaning down and picking up Jaimy's wide-brimmed hat, he claps it on Flashby's head. He then pulls the little silken mask up over his nose and taps it down securely.

"Take him back, Sergeant, and parade him through the streets of London for the delight of the mob. Let them hoot and holler at him, as he's got it coming," says the grinning Lord Allen. "That'll be a bit of fun, won't it, Flashby, before the rather grim stuff to come? Yes, I hear, Mr. William Brunskill is the hangman at Newgate and he favors the short drop, don'cha know ... the one you had planned for Jacky, remember? Cheerio, now, old top. Sergeant, take him to Newgate and dump him there, on my authority. Make sure his accommodations are of the very worst."

"Aye, Sor."

Flashby, wild-eyed, is dragged away as Richard leads me, still woozy, off to the coach.

"Here, Princess, up with you. There. I shall ride behind you."

I am put up and placed within, as Lord Allen mounts up to follow.

In the coach, Tink and Davy have Jaimy between them, trying to bring him around.

"C'mon, Jaimy, we're back on the foretop o' the
Dolphin,
don'cha remember? C'mon, mate, good times then, eh?"

"Nay, lads," I say, still trying to clear my battered mind. "Don't do that. Here, let me over." And I move over to take Tink's place, such that Jaimy's head is lowered into my lap.

I take my hand and smooth his hair from his face and look down upon him.

Poor Jaimy, that you had to go through all this for me ... and I am so unworthy of it all, you know. Me, Jacky Faber, just a scrap of skin and hair and bone and that's all there is to it when all is said and done. So much better for you, lad, if you had never got on the
Dolphin
and I had stayed in the streets of London. I don't know what leads us on our paths to whatever destiny awaits ... Sometimes I think it's just a flip of the coin, a turn of the card ... I just dunno...

Jaimy gives a bit of a moan, a shudder goes through him, and then he subsides again.

That's it, Jaimy, just rest. Don't worry, things will get better, you'll see, you'll see...

I lean over and lift his head and place his face on my breast and hold it there and let the tears drip from my eyes.

Oh, Jaimy, this world was not of our making, why do we have to suffer through it so?

As we ride on through the night, I know that I should be rejoicing because we were successful in rescuing Jaimy from the gallows. Here he is, after all, in my very lap, safe for the moment from the authorities and maybe from himself, but I am not joyful, no ... I can only think of that poor, loyal, and loving heart left lying back there on the road ... back in the waning moonlight ... blood on her shattered breast, the red love knot that had been twined in her hair, now trailing in the dust...

I am again seated in the office of the First Lord of the Admiralty, the unworthy Faber bottom once more pressed into a very fine chair. The Faber ears are listening, once again, to Mr. Peel speak to matters of Naval Intelligence. Mr. Peel is standing, while Baron Mulgrave, the First Lord himself, sits with his hands clasped over his belly. He does not seem to be at all favorably disposed toward my poor self. But that's all right ... I sit with my hands demurely folded on my lap, with chin up and the Lawson Peabody Look firmly upon my face. I am dressed fairly military, as I believe befits the moment. I'm wearing the blue jacket, white skirt, and all, and I sit and listen.

"Now as to your status, Miss Faber," Mr. Peel intones. "The amount of historical treasure you have very ingeniously managed to obtain from the East has been very well received by the Crown and we are directed to act kindly toward you ... and yours..."

And you, too, Mr. Peel, should be well disposed to be kind to me and mine as I got your job back for you ... the Affair of the Misplaced Watch, you will recall...

It turns out that Mr. Peel is, indeed, well disposed toward me for all that.

"...and it has been decided that Lieutenant James Fletcher, whereabouts unknown, shall be restored to his full rank in the Royal Navy—that is, of course, if he should ever turn up again. It has been determined that his conviction at court-martial was tainted by the testimony of false witnesses."

"That is good, Sir," I say. "Mr. Fletcher is entirely devoted to the Service, no matter what aspersions might have been cast against his good name."

"You mean the charge that he led a mutiny on an East India Company ship?" growls the First Lord, speaking up for the first time.

"That was the
East India Company,
Sir," I purr. "Not the
Royal Navy.
And, you will recall, he was serving out an unjust sentence."

"As opposed to your very just sentence to life in the penal colony at New South Wales for your own crimes against the Crown?"

"Whatever you say, my lord," I murmur, eyes cast modestly down. "If you want to dispose of me, then just do it. I have always tried to serve my country to the best of my ability."

That gets a slight cough of disbelief from Mr. Peel, but he soldiers on.

"However, for all your good work, you have done some damage to this Branch of the Service. Agents Moseley and Bliffil are now gone and Agent Flashby is ... indisposed."

Indisposed? Ha! I'll bet he is, trying to talk his way out of that one!

"You shouldn't hire such lowlifes to work for you," I say evenly. I cast an eye on the agents Carr and Boyd, who stand guard at the door. They aren't so bad, but they do follow orders from the top, and I'm not anywhere near the top ... but we'll see...

Last night, when Jaimy, all bound up, had been brought down to the wharf, he was taken not to the
Nancy B.,
but rather to the
Celestial Light,
where Chopstick Charlie Chen waited.

"
Leave him to us," said Charlie, upon my breathless arrival. He was once again clad in his Oriental garb. "We will take care of him. We have herbs, potions, curatives ... We have our ways. As a matter of fact, we have just given him a dose to calm him down. He is now very quiet and you can see him if you wish.
"

I did so wish, and went down into the cabin where Jaimy lay on a pallet, Sidrah beside him, placing a cool compress to his forehead.

I crouched beside him.

He stirred a bit, his legs thrashing about.

"
Jaimy ... dear ... Everything's all right now ... Just rest..." Tears welled up and ran down my face as I brushed the hair from his wild eyes.

"
Bess?" he said, looking about.

"
No, Jaimy ... not Bess," I said, choking, thinking of the poor soul left lying back there in the dirt. "It's Jacky.
"

"
Jacky? No ... you're dead...
"

"
No, I'm not, Jaimy, I—
"

Davy sticks his head in the door.

"
Ready to go, Jack. We'd best get moving.
"

"
Right. I'll be only a second...
"

I stand after placing a kiss upon Jaimy's brow.

"
Get well, Jaimy. I'll be back, I will. I promise.
"

I feel Charlie's arm on mine.

"
Do not worry, Little One. We will cure him and bring him back to you.
"

"
Thank you, Charlie. Please, do what you can.
"

"
Farewell, Small Round-Eyed Barbarian. We leave within the hour. I shall give your regards to Cheng Shih when next I see her. I am sure she will be full of inquiries about you and your well-being.
"

"
Please do ... Oh, Charlie ... Sidrah..." I cry, the tears streaming down my face. "I so hate to see you go!
"

A shake of the head and I am back in the First Lord's office.

"All right," continues Peel. "To sum it up, Mr. Fletcher shall be pardoned and your own life sentence has been overturned ... under the following condition."

I sit up straight and wait for it.

"You shall remain as an agent of Naval Intelligence. Lord Wellesley has been dispatched to Portugal as head of His Majesty's Army. Spain has joined our side. Apparently the Dons did not like Napoleon's installing his brother as King of Spain. It is rumored that Wellesley will soon be named Duke of Wellington for his service to the Crown. He will attack Boney's army from the south. You will be assigned to his staff as translator, your being fluent in both French and Spanish."

"And as Fly-on-the-Wall for Royal Naval Intelligence in the very heart of the Royal Army," I say, stating the obvious.

"Even so," says Peel.

"Very well," I say, rising. "I agree. May I go now?"

"Yes, you may. Prepare yourself. You leave in two days."

I leave the office to find Captain Richard Allen in the hallway, leaning against the wall, waiting.

He stands up straight, and I go over and place my hand upon his red-coated arm.

"To Portugal, Princess?" he asks, taking my hand and smiling that roguish smile of his.

"Yes, my lord, to Portugal," I say, and softly sing as we walk off toward whatever awaits us...

Over the hills and over the Main
To Flanders, Portugal, and Spain.
King George commands and we must obey,
Over the hills and far away...