phantom knights 04 - deceit in delaware (53 page)

She chose a new name, deciding upon Helen. I thought my own name over, but William was such a common name that I chose to keep it.

Upon our arrival in America in the fall of eighteen hundred and four, we kept away from the port authorities, and the questions they would ask. Sailing along the coast for a few weeks, we finally decided upon a land called North Carolina. We arrived in the middle of the night.

My wife and I had spoken at length about what to do with the ship, as Karl and the other men were anxious to explore America, not stay tied to a ship. I had wanted to sell it, but my wife thought it best to keep it. She said that we could turn it into a privateer, and have an income from the transporting of goods. She had been reading many books while in England, and she said that books about sea life had always fascinated her.

She never ceased to impress me, my Nell. That was what I had taken to calling her.

As I carried a sleeping Jack, and Nell assisted a tired Elizabeth down a deserted road toward the nearest town, we spoke of what we would do here. I told her that once I had them settled, I would see to making the ship a privateer. We found a public house that had a room for us for the night. Once my family was settled, I sat up to protect them as they slept. Listening to their breathing, and the occasional snore from my son, I was aware of a feeling of nostalgia. These people belonged to me, and I would do all within my power to deserve their faith in me.

CHAPTER 13

September 1805

A year had passed since we arrived in America and in that time I had not accomplished nearly as much as I desired. It did not take us long after arrival to discover that there was little of worth to be found in North Carolina. I had bought us a cabin and some forty acres of land upon our second day in the country, and when we saw it, I knew that I had been swindled. The cabin was in disrepair and only twenty out of the forty acres could be used for farming land. The rest was forest and rocky inclines.

It was my earnest will to leave the place at once and find a better situation, one where I could thrive, but Nell had fallen in love with the land upon first sight. She loved the hills and the green pastures. She even admired the hovel that had been described to me as a cabin. She did not want to move again, claiming that it was not good for the children, and if we did not begin setting up for the winter soon, we would find ourselves in dire circumstances.

Finding men in the village to assist me in the repairs to the hovel cost the remainder of gold that Queen Elisabeth had given us when we left Lutania. I had not known that there had been any remaining, and Nell blushingly confessed to having hid it. She said that she was saving it for our children’s futures. Providing a house for them without holes for the wind to creep through was good enough for her to surrender the money.

It was during that month of fixing the cabin that I met my first savage. As it happened, he was not savage at all. He spoke English, wore more than a loincloth, and traded honestly. With his assistance, I was able to trade wood for a bull, a cow, a goat, and a dozen chickens. The bull was lazy, the goat a nuisance, but the cow provided milk and the chickens kept us in eggs.

He lived not far from our farm and had agreed to keep us in wood during the winter months.

At the first sign of spring, I found Karl and made him sail me and my family to Charleston in South Carolina where I had heard that it was warmer.

There we were able to locate a captain and crew to become privateers. After that, Nell wanted to return to the cabin instead of staying in Charleston, and so we had, but not before we picked up a passenger.

One evening while we were in Charleston, I was surprised by a visitor. Pierre had found me. He was going by Pierre Travoy, and had found situations for himself and Arnaud, but they were not best pleased. Arnaud had become a butler in one of well-to-do homes that sprinkled Charleston. It was a feather in the mistress’s cap to have a French butler, placing her above her friends.

Pierre had found work in a smithy, but when my family and I were leaving he decided to come with me. I did not introduce him to my family until several days had passed after our return to the cabin.

Not even Nell knew who he was. One day I brought him home and told my family that not only was he going to help us with the planting, but he was also going to take over training the children. I had discovered Pierre’s talents, and I did not want to waste my opportunity to learn from him. Not only was Pierre a master with a sword, but he was also master at disguise. Having apprenticed under his wife’s father in the theater, he had discovered some interesting tricks. He knew how to make pastes, use powders and paint upon ones face and the end result was a masterpiece. Pierre could change his appearance with a few well-placed moles, powder, and paint. We began experimenting with changing someone’s entire appearance, not just the face and hair. How to move, walk, speak, and where to look. He taught me about bodily movements and what they meant, for there was a meaning behind every movement of the human body.

Jack took to Pierre’s training with fervor, but Elizabeth, or Bess, as Jack called her, was hesitant and calculating in her movements.

When she would catch me frowning after Jack had bested her during a fencing bout, or having missed three out of four targets, she changed her methods of study. I quickly learned that while Jack would succeed without any prompting, Bess would only try to succeed if my disapproval followed her losses. Instead of praising her skills, I began saying nothing when she succeeded, but rewarding her with the brunt of my disapproval if she were to lose. She would rather have my silence than my disapproval, and so she began succeeding in every training that Pierre put her way.

A few evenings during the week, Pierre and I would travel to the town tavern. We discussed what was on many minds and lips. The war between England and France. Pierre assured me that Arnaud was no longer sending messages to France, but also that Arnaud was certain that the war would eventually travel back to American shores. If that were to happen, my family would be no safer in America than they had been in England.

There was surely something that I could do to assist against the looming battle, but the way had not yet come into my path.

Unwilling to spend another winter at the cabin, I told Nell that I wanted to do some traveling and that I wanted her and the children to accompany me. She refused. It was the first show of her will since our arrival in America, but it reminded me of the woman that I had met in Lutania.

She did not want to uproot the children again, for they had made some friends with the neighboring farm’s children. I could not stay, and she knew that, so she told me to go so long as I returned to her in the end. Pierre agreed to remain behind to protect my family and assist Nell in the running of the farm.

Riding the trails toward South Carolina on my horse, I was nearly overtaken by Indians and attacked by a bear. The bear had scared my horse into bolting, and I held on for the ride. The Indians had turned their attention upon the bear instead of me.

When I reached the borders of South Carolina, I rode until I found a town that had a public house where I could find a room and a decent meal.

It was during my stay in that place that my first glimpse of what I could do for the country came to me. While seated at my table, partaking of my roasted chicken, a fight broke out at a table behind me. Fights were common in the wilds of America so I paid it no heed until one of the men fell against my back. My chest had struck my plate and sent my chicken sliding to the dirty floor.

Slamming down my fork, I rose and turned toward the fight. The barkeep was trying to break up the men who were calling each other cheats. Their table had been tipped over and there were cards and spilled tankards upon the floor. I was stepping forward to intervene when a knife appeared. I opened my mouth to shout out a warning, but the man lunged, stabbing his blade into the gut of the man being held back by the barkeep.

The barkeep dropped the stabbed man to grab at the other, and I moved forward to assess the damage. As I dropped to my knees beside him and got a look at how the knife was lodged, I knew that there was no hope for him.

One of the patrons stood beside me, staring down at the gasping man.

“Arnold ain’t no cheat. He’s military.”

Pulling the knife from the man’s gut, he groaned out a cry. He used what strength he had to clasp my hand.

“My son. Please. Take my son.”

“Fetch me some brandy and cloth at once,” I ordered the man standing beside me. He bustled off and I focused my attention upon the dying man. His grip was slackening, but he fought to keep his eyes open.

“My son. My son.”

“You have a son,” I said, and he nodded. “Is he here?” I had not noticed a younger man about the place.

“Home…”

“Your son is at home. You want me to tell him what has happened to you.”

“Take … c-care of … my boy.”

That took me aback for a moment.

“He’s … got … none … else.” His clasp tightened again as he rose up a little. “He’s … four.”

My chest tightened at that information. Placing my free hand over his, I nodded. “What is the boy’s name?”

“L-L-Levi…”

That was the last word that the man spoke. When the man returned with the brandy and cloth, he noticed Arnold’s closed eyes and released a huff.

Pushing myself to my feet, I turned to the man. “Do you know Arnold’s location?” The man did not, claiming that Arnold was not from these parts, and had only arrived a few days before, looking for work.

The serving maid could offer me more information, for she had spent more time with him than any of the others. She said that he lived in a cabin some twenty miles away from where we were. She gave me the best directions that she could, but she could not give me his surname for he had never spoken it. As it was late, I waited until the following morning to set out for Arnold’s cabin.

A few days passed before I reached the location that the woman had given me. It was nothing but forest. As I rode further, I came upon a fence. Following the fence, it led to a dirt horse track, and finally to a small cabin and barn beyond. There were no lights inside the cabin or smoke coming from the chimney.

Tying my horse to the single hitching post, I stepped up to the cabin and knocked upon the door. It rattled and opened against the tapping of my hand. Looking about me, there was no answering call, so I stepped into the cabin. It was cold, smelled musty, and looked as if it had not been lived in for months. Noticing an apple core on the small table, I picked it up. Inspection proved that it could be no older than a day.

Which meant that someone had been there.

As the sky was turning gray, I decided to bed down in the barn for the night, hoping to find some hay for my horse and a pump for some water.

Reaching the barn as the sky opened up and released its explosion of rain and lightning, I pushed open the door and led my horse inside. The barn, unlike the house, had been kept in good order. It was warmer and had fresh hay as well as a stabled gray mare. Considering the horse, there was a moment when I thought that whoever had eaten that apple was still around. How else could the horse be explained? Arnold had not appeared to me as a man with the means to provide for two horses.

Touching my belt, my hand rested upon the butt of my pistol.

“AAHHHHHHH!” shrieked a high voice a second before a tiny body came charging toward me, with a knife raised over the head filled with black hair.

For a stunned moment I did not react. As the little sprite slashed the knife toward my leg, I leapt backward a second before the blade would have stabbed my leg.

“What the devil!”

The little sprite swung the knife before him in slashing movements as he charged me. Slapping his arm away as he tried to stab me only caused him to shout louder.

“Die ewil spiwit!” He raised his arm above his head and then threw it down, trying to stab my stomach.

Slapping my hand against his head, I held him back. He swung the knife and wriggled against my hand like a little devil. Snatching him up by the back of his britches, I wrested the knife from his hand and then carried him to where a tack was hanging on one of the wooden posts. Hanging him on the tack by his britches, I stepped back to survey him. Even though he was hanging in the air he struggled to be free.

Moving to my saddle, I removed some flint from my saddle bag, as well as the remainder of the dried beef, stale bread, and berries I had for food.

Using the flint, I was able to light one of the lanterns. Holding it up before the little sprite, the first thought that struck me was how much he resembled my son Jack. The same black hair and narrow face, but this little wild boy had green eyes.

As thunder boomed outside the barn and lightning struck across the sky, I paced before the little one, my mind asking a plethora of questions. What could I do with the child now that his father was gone? If there had been a mother surely she would have been there with the child.

“Where is your mother?” I voiced.

“Dead,” the little boy replied with a defiant tone in his voice.

That shot my first idea. Surely there had to be relatives somewhere, or I could turn him over to the nearest constable.

As I surveyed him from his face to his wriggling body, a completely different thought struck me. As fire filled as this little boy was, I knew that he would be a fierce fighter, if given the proper training. He could learn much with proper instruction. Nell could do wonders with such a little sprite, but I could not force him upon her. Such a thing was unthinkable.

Or was it…

It would take some deeper thought, and I would have to speak with Pierre about the idea, but this boy, this Levi, could be the first of many such children. No one would ever expect a child of being a spy.