‘I am Father Gerard.’
He indicated that I should sit opposite him. I knew now the cause of the pain etched in his face. He was missing all the fingers on his left hand. What I had taken to be a fist was a knuckle covered in puckered pink skin. I had seen this mutilation before, a result of torture employed by the Iroquois. Each finger had been sawn off using the sharpened edge of a piece of shell. It took a very brave man to endure this ordeal without screaming or crying out. I looked at the Jesuit with new respect. He must have remained silent or he would not be with us now.
‘I have been waiting for you, Mary.’ He pronounced my name the French way. ‘If you had not come to us, we would have come for you.’
‘How do you know my name?’
‘Father Luc Duval. His field notes alerted us to your presence in the territory.’ He held up a small, stained notebook that had been resting on his knee. ‘At first he was concerned for your welfare. For a white woman to be living among savages is not, ah ... ’ He searched for the correct word. ‘Satisfactory.’
‘I live with them by choice,’ I said simply. ‘I do not want to be rescued. Where is Father Luc?’ I looked round expecting to see him, fresh-faced and clean shaven.
‘He is not here. He has gone on another mission. This time to the Iroquois.’ A look passed between the two Frenchmen. ‘I fear that he seeks martyrdom. Before he went, however, he wanted me to look out for you. He was most insistent upon it.’ The Jesuit’s black eyes flickered over me. ‘He fears for your immortal soul, you see. Certain, certain events described here –’ he thumbed through the buckled water-stained pages – ‘have to be taken very seriously. If, if they were true, or were proved to be true ... ’
I looked from him to Le Grand.
‘I’m sorry, I do not understand.’
The priest looked at me, his eyes bright, beady as a raven’s in his ravaged face.
‘Let me put it more plainly. They say that you are a sorceress. That you killed a man. A man called Frenais.’
‘Le Frenais,’ I corrected.
‘You know him, then?’ the priest asked.
‘Of course.’
‘So? Is this true? Did you have a hand in his death?’
‘I did not touch him. Life here is dangerous, in the winter even more so. A mistake, any mistake, can be fatal. Le Frenais drank. Drink makes men stupid and careless of themselves, their lives and much else besides.’
‘Hmm.’ The Jesuit regarded me steadily. ‘They say there is more to his death than that. The Indians say that he was seen running over the ice at the height of a storm, shrieking as if the Devil himself were after him, fleeing from some dark pursuing thing.’
‘Why wouldn’t they? It is a good story to tell round a winter fire. The Indians like a good tale. They do not differ from us in that.’
The Jesuit snapped the book shut. ‘I am not here to try you, Mary. I hope it won’t come to that. The native people are credulous and superstitious. Your fame has spread among them. To have a white woman among them revered as a sorceress? It will not do. We have enough trouble converting them as it is. There are some –’ he glanced at Le Grand – ‘who would hand you back to the English, but I am not sure any more how that will serve. I am arranging for you to stay with the holy sisters while I decide what is to be done. I know the sisters will do their best to bring you to the Church. Listen well to their teaching, for your life may depend on it.’
He stood up, leaning heavily on his stick, using his good hand for leverage. He hobbled towards the door, shrugging off any help from Le Grand. The Jesuit’s gait was grotesquely skewed. From the way he walked I judged he had been born with one foot clubbed and that leg much shorter than the other. To come to this place in that state, to live the life, bear the hardship! These Jesuits were tough, as tough as the natives they sought to convert.
‘What did he mean?’ I asked Le Grand. ‘Why will my life depend on it?’
I knew well what was meant, but in order to decide what to do, I needed his confirmation.
‘To convert such a one as you would bring others flocking to the fold. Otherwise ... ’
‘Otherwise what?’
He did not answer directly. Instead, he picked up the notebook Gerard had left and waved it in my face.
‘They call you Loup Garou.’
I recognised the words. I had heard them before at Missisquoi.
‘A werewolf? That is a creature of mere superstition.’ I felt beset by great weariness. How little they know of such things. ‘I do not walk the night and wake naked in some ditch, my jaws slathered with blood.’
He held up Duval’s book.
‘They say you killed a man through sorcery.’
‘As I said to the priest, life here is dangerous enough. You do not need sorcery.’
‘You are a witch, then? You know what we do with them?’ I made no reply, so he supplied the information for me. ‘We burn them. That is the fate that awaits you if you do not convert. We have saints here in the making, both French and native. Perhaps Father Gerard wants you to join their company as a prized convert, or ... ’
‘Or?’
‘You will be his very own Jeanne d’Arc.’
‘So you will give me over to him?’
I divined from his face that he would not, but took small comfort from that. It seemed I would but leap like a flounder out of the frying pan into the fire.
He sat down in the chair Gerard had just vacated.
‘The Jesuits are powerful here, ’tis true, but I have other plans for you. I have a ship leaving soon, in a day, two at the most, and you will be on it.’
‘And what do you intend for me? To take me back to Peterson?’
‘I have not decided. To leave you to the sisters and the Jesuits would be a waste. I have a friend who is held captive in Boston, a privateer like myself. The authorities there would be interested in trading. That is the idea of Captain Peterson. But I might not do that.’
‘What might you do instead?’
He paused, as though considering. ‘I would be willing to trade the boy, once we catch him, and we will catch him soon enough. I have put a good price on him and the inhabitants of Montreal, French or native, would trade their grandmothers for gold. But I do not think I will give you to Peterson.’
‘What will you do with me?’
‘I have a mind to take you to France.’ He smiled, his teeth white against the black of his beard. ‘You are quite a beauty underneath all that native dirt, and with such an exotic history. La belle sauvage. The court craves diversions of all kinds. You would be a sensation.’ His tone hardened when I did not reply. ‘It is either me or the nunnery. Think on it well.’
‘What if I choose neither?’
‘You know what is left.’ He shrugged his elegant shoulders. ‘There is always the stake.’
I clutched my arms to me as though I already felt the flames licking about my feet.
He smiled. ‘But it may not come to that. You are shivering. Here.’ He rose to throw more logs on the fire and rang a bell to summon a servant. ‘I will order some heated wine for us. The nights are still chill at this time of year.
‘You interest me, Mary,’ he said when the wine arrived. He had the air of a man who had seen much and was surprised by little. ‘I have known many women in my life before, but I have never met one like you.’ He stirred the bowl that had been set before him, ladling some of the steaming liquor into a silver cup. ‘Drink this! It is made to my own recipe, I think you will like it.’
He handed me the cup and watched as I drank from it. The brew was warming, a mix of brandy and wine, heady with the scent of spices: nutmeg, clove and cinnamon. As I sipped, I thought I tasted an undertone of something else, something heavy and powerful. I looked at him, questioning.
‘It is best drunk slowly.’ He smiled again. ‘It contains a strong spirit, I trade from the Dutch for it, they call it genever. Now tell me, how did you come to be with the savages? I want to know m
ore. And do not worry. In my family we are no strangers to magic. Whatever you tell me will not pass beyond these walls.’
Whatever the drink contained, I found my tongue loosening. I found myself telling him everything. All that had befallen me. When I had finished, he leaned forward, replenishing my cup.
‘I knew you would not disappoint me. We make a pair, you and me.’ He grinned wide, showing gold teeth on either side of his jaw. This time the smile reached his dark-blue eyes. ‘They call me Loup de la Mer – Wolf of the Sea. Now it is my turn to tell you about myself.’
He came from a noble family, although he did not use his title.
‘I am what you call the black sheep. My brother is a priest, like Gerard, although he prefers to stay in France; my other brother is at court, but I find life there dull and stifling. I was destined to be a soldier, but tired of killing Dutchmen in the mud of Flanders. I wanted adventure, and found it on the sea. I have interests everywhere – here, and in the East, and in the West Indies.’ He smiled again, this time more gently, as if at some inward scene only he could see. ‘You would love it there, Mary. It is so warm, not like this cursed cold, and so green, but the green is bright and there is a different light, not like these dark, gloomy forests. The islands are full of colour. Flowers and fruit grow everywhere, both at the same time, as in Eden. Birds flit between them, blue, red, yellow, some as small as this.’ He made a walnut shape in the hollow of his fist. ‘They hover like bees, taking nectar through a beak as fine as a needle.’
‘It sounds truly a wonderful place.’
‘Oh, it is. It is. The sea is as warm as blood, a clear aquamarine with sand as white as linen. I have a place that I have built, a special place down by the shore where I can be alone. I love to watch the ocean.’ He paused. ‘I had thought to take you to France, but now I think to take you there. What do you say, Mary? Is what I have described to your taste? You can live free, as free as you have lived here. Won’t you come with me?’
His thought had taken a different turn from any I had expected. I’d judged him an adventurer, ruthless and cold, his heart turned to ice by a harsh and pitiless world. Now I saw the fire within his soul and the reason for his roaming. I wanted to reply to him, but my own thoughts refused to form. I found my tongue thick in my mouth. Suddenly it was hard to move. The heat from the fire, the spiced wine had caused a creeping languor to spread through my limbs. I tried to stand and staggered.
He was there to catch me, putting his arm around me. He pushed my hair back with his other hand and touched the clan mark on my cheek.
‘Belle sauvage,’ he whispered, his wine-scented breath warm on my skin as he turned my face to his.
I had not felt the touch of a man in a long time. Perhaps it was the wine, or whatever drug he had put in it. Perhaps it was the strength of his kiss. But I did not resist as he held me, and when he took me to his chamber, I went freely enough.
g
33
Ephraim
I woke in his bed between sheets of finest linen. I was alone and I could tell by the sun that it was late. He must have left to attend to his business. I lay back against pillows of goose down and tried to make sense of what had happened, but my mind was slow and my senses dulled. The taste in my mouth told me that the heated wine had been laced with poppy.
The Huron girl came in bearing a tray, which she set down on a table near the bed. I tried to speak to her, but she did not look at me, and retired immediately. I rose and donned a silk robe that had been laid out for me. My clothes of the night before were gone, and in their place had been put much finer stuff, silk and velvet. To my mind came an old rhyme: ‘three in worsted, three in rags, three in velvet fine ... ’
The food laid out for me tasted like manna. Warm rolls of white bread as meltingly fine as cake, curls of rich yellow butter, and a bowl of some thick dark drink with a taste both rich and sweet. I had never tasted such before, but I knew this to be chocolate. The girl came again, to fill my bath and remove my tray. I spoke to her in French, then in the common tongue, but it was as if she suddenly understood neither. She hastened from the chamber, giving me a look as she left, letting her eyes speak for her.
I spent the day in deep thought. I had never known such riches before. They could be mine for ever. All I had to do was consent to his offer. I paced around the house, weighing one life against the other. If I looked for signs, one at least was clear. I had never been shown such deference, but I could not leave. The soldiers on the door would not let me pass. The snare might be silken, but it was still a trap.
Le Grand returned towards evening, announcing that we would be leaving on the morning tide. I had been alone all day and the shame brought on by the demeanour of the Huron girl had grown with each passing hour.
I was set to defy him, but I had forgotten his charm, his handsomeness, his ability to beguile. He toasted me with golden wine as we dined, and afterward he fed me sweetmeats and talked of our life together. I was caught again in his spell, even I who knew something of the skill. By the time we retired for bed, I could well believe he came from a house of magicians.
g
We were woken by a commotion coming from below. A voice called up to Le Grand. He threw on shirt and breeches and pulled on his boots, while I donned a robe and went to the window to see what was the matter.
Two soldiers stood at the great front door, between them they held a buckskin-clad figure. They had him gripped by the scruff like a struggling cat. They were nearly twice his size, but were having trouble holding him nonetheless. The big doors were opened wide and Ephraim was pitched on to the flags of the hall. I heard scuffling below and then the thud of feet on the stairs and Ephraim calling me. I went to the door of the chamber to find him in front of me. He stopped in mid-career.
‘Mary!’
‘He fights like a wild cat.’ Le Grand came panting after him. ‘My men are all cut and kicked and scratched about.’
‘Lynx, that’s what they call me,’ Ephraim announced, smiling. He turned to Le Grand. ‘I came of my own free will. Your men got no call to treat me that way.’
‘They name you well.’ Le Grand grimaced and held out his arm. The cuff of the shirt was torn, and his arm showed deep scores already welling up and dripping blood.
‘I must see to this. I will be back.’
He left then, leaving me alone with Ephraim.
‘Are you hurt?’ I asked the boy.
‘Not hardly.’ He came into the room, unable to take his eyes off me.
‘What are you staring at?’
‘You look different,’ he said in simple wonder. ‘Like a lady. I got to tell you, Mary, you scrubbed up real good.’
‘Never mind that.’ I turned on him. ‘Why did you come here and let yourself be captured like this?’
‘It was the only way to get to you. Black Fox sent me. He has a plan.’
I guessed at what it was. Sometimes warriors would allow themselves to be deliberately captured and taken to an enemy camp. Once inside, they would work with their comrades on the outside to help prisoners break out. It was a clever idea, but full of risk.
‘This is extremely foolhardy.’
‘But Mary –’
‘Listen to me. There is reason behind Le Grand’s search for you. You have walked yourself right into a trap.’
‘How is that?’
‘Why did you not tell me you still had kin in the colony?’
‘What kin?’
‘Le Grand says an uncle seeks for you.’
‘What uncle? I know of no uncle.’
‘Captain Peterson has been to Quebec. He says an uncle of yours from Rhode Island wishes to claim you.’
Ephraim’s face clouded for a moment as memory and realisation came together.
‘He became Quaker. Him and Pa came to the Colonies together. Pa didn’t hold with his new belief and there was a falling-out. Pa never spoke of him.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s all I know. It happened before ever I was born.
What does he want with me?’ Ephraim sat on the bed and looked up at me. ‘He never wanted me before.’
‘Well, he wants you now. We are to go back. Le Grand is going to trade you for some buccaneer friend of his.’
‘What about you?’
‘He has other plans for me.’
Ephraim looked round, at me, at the bed behind, at Le Grand’s jacket draped over a chair, at my clothes lying there. He stiffened like an animal suddenly alerted to some danger he had not perceived before.
‘Now I see the way of it.’
He rose to stalk the room, inspecting every corner.
‘What if you do?’
He sank down to squat on the floor, resting his head on his hands.
‘The Huron girl got word to us. That’s why we had to act so quick and desperate. She said Le Grand wanted to take you away with him, but she didn’t exactly say what as.’
He grinned at me then, his face twisting into leering contempt, an expression he’d copied from the French trappers when they spoke about women. I should have struck him for showing me such insolence, but his scorn scorched my soul. I deserved it. I felt myself flush red.
‘Black Fox,’ Ephraim went on, ‘can’t get in here. The house is too close guarded; such a thing is impossible. So he figured the time to take you was when you go down to the docks. He’s going to be waiting there. He thinks they won’t notice him, all Indians looking the same to them. He has all prepared and was going to look for a chance to get you away. But now? Seems hardly worth anybody’s effort.’ He looked up at me. ‘How could you do this to him?’
‘He is a warrior now. A man. He does not need me.’
But even as I spoke, I knew that was not true. I had no answer to Ephraim’s question. It was as if I had been walking in a dream. He said not a word further, but his blue eyes spoke most eloquently, more eloquently than he knew. I turned away, tears of my own starting, as I remembered another parting in the upstairs room of an English inn many long years ago.
‘Ain’t going back to Peterson,’ he said at last. ‘Nor no uncle I don’t know. I’d rather die. I’m going with Black Fox, or I’ll be killed getting to him. I give you warning, Mary.’