Eliot Pattison - Blood of the Oak

Duncan inched forward. Sarah took a step around the table, out of Kincaid’s reach. The lieutenant ignored her and raised the pistol toward Duncan’s head. “You need to be alive,” he declared in an amused tone, “but Lord Ramsey will understand if I have to put a ball in your knee or elbow. Or perhaps both?”

“The Iroquois kept saying it was a demon god who butchered those men in the north,” Duncan said. “I never believed it was a spirit, just a man with a demon in his soul, a man like Ramsey but not Ramsey. You played the officer when convenient, even the circuit rider. But it’s the role of the demon that best suits you. Now I wonder, with all the false papers here, do you even have a commission, Kincaid?”

The lieutenant gave an amused nod. “Bought and paid for by my father, the rich shoe merchant in Manchester. And the Kraken in the Admiralty will make me a captain by the time I’m through.”

“You peeled the skin from living men. Cut off limbs.”

Kincaid shrugged. “Teague said we should practice if we wanted to play the part of Blooddancer. So we tried our tools on the drunken Iroquois who stole the mask for us. What a mess. He had already been stabbed by that damned pest of a boy, who clung to his back all the way to the river. We drowned that irritating boy then scattered that drunkard’s parts for the crows. Teague had worked in a butcher shop so he had an unfair advantage in taking off limbs. But I tried. Don’t go straight for the joints, do the tendons first, he taught me.”

“You sliced away the skin of a man just to spell a warning to us. You killed him for no reason other than to frighten us.”

“That African? Squealed like a pig.”

Sarah’s face drained of color. She backed away to the window and cracked it open as if needing fresh air to revive.

Duncan inched forward. “Is that what Ramsey plans to do in Lancaster, leave the mutilated bodies of the committeemen?”

“Of course not. A missing man on the frontier is one thing. But some might consider killing members of the legislatures of Pennsylvania and Massachusetts a bit reckless.”

Kincaid failed not only to notice the opening of the window but also the slow movement of Sarah’s hand to the little pewter porringer where red sealing wax had recently been melted. “Surely McCallum, you should give us some credit. Ramsey will show them his forged letters. Mr. Bowen is a most remarkable man. It will be a shame to kill him, but such a witness cannot be allowed to live. The handwriting on the new letters is indistinguishable from their real handwriting on the committee letters. Now that we have all the runners’ marks we can authenticate each one. Did you know those terrible gentlemen of the committees have been planning to build private arsenals against the government, to organize smuggling against the tax, even to conspire with our enemies in Paris? What entertainment we had, deciding what crimes to create! Hobart wanted to construct some intrigue between the governor’s wife and Patrick Henry, but I said mere acts of treason would suffice. With those letters Lord Ramsey could throw them all in chains, ship them to London for trial and hanging.” Kincaid paused and cocked his head at Sarah. She had made red lines on both her cheeks. He turned back to Duncan. “But of course Lord Ramsey will show his mercy. He will just keep the letters and have new puppets, new slaves in key positions in each colony. It will mean new charters for companies owned by Ramsey, new judges selected by Ramsey-”

Kincaid hesitated, looking again at Sarah, who now was whispering something toward the ceiling. Duncan took a step closer to the officer.

“ Jiyathondek! Jiyathondek! ” Sarah’s words came more loudly now. It was an invocation, a request for the spirits to come to witness. “ Shatyykerarta! ” she declared. “ Enjeyeweyendane! ”

Duncan’s spine went cold. They are in their graves , she had said. They will be comforted. It was a vow of retribution. He dared not rush Kincaid, for fear the pistol would discharge and hit Sarah.

“Dear God, woman, did I not tell you your father wanted you beaten if you played the savage again?”

“My claws are long,” she continued in the Iroquois tongue. “Feel my strength.”

Kincaid smiled as she stepped forward, extending her arms as if she wanted to embrace him. “What a wildcat! What a voyage we will have!”

“ Enjeyeweyendane! ” Sarah cried again and, stepping closer, flung her arms at him.

The thin smile on Kincaid’s face froze for a moment, then he looked down in confusion at the bone-handled knife in his abdomen. Duncan recognized the blade as Tanaqua’s. An instant later the Mohawk lifted the window and stepped in from the roof.

“You silly bitch!” Kincaid gasped, and swung the pistol toward Sarah. Duncan grabbed the barrel, resting his hand over the hammer, and pulled it from the lieutenant’s weakening grip. Kincaid stepped backward, leaning against the wall, and with great effort reached for his sword. Tanaqua pulled the knife out of his belly then helped him pull his sword from the scabbard. He made sure Kincaid had a firm grip, then took a step back to give the officer room to swing the blade.

“Stupid heathen bastard!” With surprising swiftness Kincaid sliced his blade at the Mohawk.

Tanaqua brushed the sword aside with his war ax and plunged his knife into Kincaid’s heart.

Sarah watched as the lieutenant’s body slid down the wall to settle into a sitting position, his face locked in a puzzled expression, then stepped to the cabinet built into the corner and opened its door. The Blooddancer’s crooked smile greeted them.

They worked quickly, collecting all the correspondence and records they could find and dispatching the men back to Crabtown in the wide flatbottomed ferry that plied between the town and the floating sheds. Duncan and Woolford found the frightened soldiers huddled in the barn, where they explained that Lieutenant Kincaid, whose body had been taken by the rangers to be weighted and dumped in the river, had fled and they should not expect him back. They introduced the remaining Virginia rangers and stated that the marines had to stay in Chestertown for ten days, under the guard of the rangers. After ten days they would all return to Virginia, where the rangers would attest that they had all been attacked by bay pirates and that Kincaid had valiantly died in the struggle.

Analie was in the kitchen with Prindle and Bowen, who had nodded off in a chair. In her hand she studied a little piece of jewelry, which she held out for Duncan to see. It was a watch fob, made of a little disc of polished oyster shell chased in silver. Something about it nudged at Duncan’s memory.

“Mr. Prindle says they make them here in town, the only jeweler anywhere who does so.” Analie looked up, searching Duncan’s eyes. “I told you. Francis Johnson had one just like this when he visited Johnson Hall.”

By midnight they had all reached the floating docks OF Crabtown, from which skiffs were shuttling men out to the Penelope , still hidden in the little cove beyond the point where she lay anchored.

As Duncan, Sarah, and Woolford watched one of the last of the skiffs shove off, Ononyot, at the stern, cried out in warning. They turned to see a massive figure standing in a punt coasting toward them out of the darkness, holding a treacherous pointed fishing gaff in each hand. With a roar Teague launched one of the gaffs at Duncan.

Duncan had no time to avoid the spear. With an explosion of pain it ripped into his thigh, embedding in the muscle. He staggered then collapsed halfway off the dock, one arm and the wounded leg in the water, the weight of the heavy spear dragging him down. Sarah screamed and grabbed him, jerking out the spear and pulling him onto the dock. He clutched at his wound with one hand and tried to push her away with the other.