Since Ustis’s passing, Xander felt a bit melancholy coming here. Ustis had been a trusted friend, a wise counselor. He would have made a treasured father-in-law. His business acumen was second to none. Though a new supplier was neededfor the upriver plantations, nothing had been done, the want left unfulfilled. Mayhap at the next general assembly he’d make a motion. In time, Shay could assume the position, if he was willing.
A few boats bobbed at their moorings along the waterfront, mostly upriver visitors, a few vessels familiar. A small, unknown shallop at wharf’s end drew Xander’s notice, but he gave it no more than a passing glance as he took out a key and opened the warehouse. His indentures filed in, intent on the empty barrels. They weighed a thousand pounds each when prized with tobacco but were easily hefted when empty.
“Now is the time to fetch your belongings,” Xander told Shay. “And see how the house fares idle.”
Shay’s expression turned pensive as they took the path leading to the Hopewells’. He’d not been home since his return from the Powhatans. He’d only heard secondhand how his father had fallen. Did he blame McCaskey? The factor, Xander had noticed, gave Shay wide berth as if guilt dug a chasm not easily bridged.
No sooner had they disappeared into the shoreline’s leafy shade than a commotion made them look back over their shoulders. Into the clearing near the warehouse came a procession nearly silent but for the rattle of chains and the clang of bells. Xander summed it up in a glance. Laurent and Nurse Lineboro on horseback. Six men in the coarse garb of indentures on foot. And one fettered slave.
“’Tis the African.” Shay sucked in a breath. “The one who came to Rose-n-Vale and told us of Watseka.”
The starving smokehouse thief.
Xander said nothing, taking in the bloodied man from head to foot. The scars. The terrible iron collar with prongedhorns that tore at the skin of his neck and shoulders. The leg iron that clinked loudly with every agonized move. An added humiliation was bells. Their music was anything but merry. The spectacle caused a fierce churning in Xander’s gut.
“Stay here out of sight.” He laid a heavy hand on Shay’s shoulder. “Say nothing.”
Laurent dismounted and strode down the dock ahead of his indentures, intent on the small shallop at wharf’s end. Were they taking the African to James Towne for more punishment? Handing him over to the authorities and gaol? Now chary, Rose-n-Vale’s own indentures paused in their loading of the wagons. McCaskey stared at Nurse Lineboro as she dismounted. The humid air ripened with hostility.
Xander stepped into the open, beyond the concealing shade. A murmur passed through the indentures. Laurent swung round, gaze sweeping the onlookers before settling on Xander. For the briefest second he seemed caught off guard. His hand went to his sword’s hilt and stayed there.
Slowly, Xander walked toward the African, whose head was bowed as much as the iron prongs would let it be. “What charge do you bring against this man to have him bound so?”
“What cause have you to ask?” Laurent retraced his steps down the dock, past the African, to stand a stone’s throw from Xander. “This is my lawful property to be used—or abused—as I please.”
“The charge?”
Laurent’s features tightened further. “All here know the punishment for a runaway slave is death. I intend to make him a public spectacle before all James Towne as a warning to future offenders.”
“And I stand here and testify he did not run away butreturned to you after leading us to the Indian girl caged on your land,” Xander replied, loud enough for all to hear. “If not for the African’s aid, she may well have perished, bringing the Powhatans’ wrath down on us all.”
Cursing, eyes never leaving Xander, Laurent threw off his doublet. “You speak at your own peril, Renick, of matters you know not.”
“I ken enough to defend a defenseless man. ’Tis you, Helion Laurent, who should wear the irons instead.”
With a seamless sweep of his hand, Laurent drew his sword. “I am out of patience.”
The ring of steel as it left the scabbard caused Xander to reach for his own weapon.Forgive me, Selah. I didnot mean for it to come to this.
They began circling on open ground near shore as indentures fanned out in a wide arc around them. Laurent’s weakness was his vanity. He would make a fine dance before so rapt an audience, displaying all the elegance of the art. But neither would he fight honorably. When his booted foot kicked sand in Xander’s face, stinging and for a moment blinding him, Xander was prepared and escaped his quick thrust.
Lord, grant me a step and a mind sharp as steel.
The ground was unmercifully uneven. Still, they exchanged several thrusts, the rise and fall of Laurent’s chest more pronounced as Xander lunged and sliced off his sleeve button. The rage in Laurent’s gaze built with every parry and riposte, giving Xander a sliver of confidence.
An angry man was oft a losing man. And a dead one.
They were on the wharf now, men scrambling to get out of their way. A cry went up from the nurse as Xander losthis footing and Laurent aimed for his sword arm. The blow was glancing but drew blood, a warm, crimson swath against his shirt sleeve. Atop the wooden boards, the clash of their blades carried crisp over the water.
Laurent lunged and Xander parried, barely dodging the tip of his blade. They were now moving at a speed too fast for the eye, and Xander’s head spun traitorously. He feinted, fooling Laurent, who stepped too close to the wharf’s edge. Recovering, he found his balance and thrust again yet fell short. Strength ebbing, Xander struck him hard across his sword arm and put his point at Laurent’s throat.
Xander forced one winded word through clenched teeth. “Yield.”
“To the death!” Laurent spat as his sword lashed out, striking Xander’s thigh.
They fought on, down the length of the wharf now cleared of all men. Color was leeching from Laurent’s face. His wounded sword arm trailed blood. Still, his shoulders tensed and gave a warning, and he lunged again. Breathless, Xander leapt back, deflecting his blade. Next came a final, irreversible thrust, Xander’s sword arm driving home. With a final cry of outrage, Laurent fell back into clear blue water with an ominous splash.
Xander stood at the wharf’s end and looked down at him, chest so tight every breath was a battle. One of Laurent’s indentures dove off the dock and swam to retrieve him.
