This Triumphant Fire, page 41
The man reached for Carlotta’s breasts and she forced herself to stand still while Austin smirked at them both. The cool words broke across his beginning laughter which he did not seem able to still. Carlotta saw only the green gaze mingling with the honeysuckle vines, and the drifting fragrance of the flowers wound around her as the sense of what Simon said came to her.
“Did you think that the likes of you and Burr and all those who stand to benefit from your treasonous schemes could go unwatched? Do you not know that the American government is aware and that your activities have been reported? Why have I so consistently appeared where you go, Austin Lenoir? Think on it and know that I am one of several agents of President Thomas Jefferson in this Mississippi Territory. What you do to me will be avenged, and you will go down in destruction.”
* * *
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
* * *
“Let Us Unite With One Heart
and One Mind”
—Thomas Jefferson, Inaugural Address,
1801
AUSTIN faced Simon, his attention wholly caught by the bold words. Carlotta took that opportunity to edge away from the tall man with the dead eyes, who did not attempt to follow. He simply stood there, hands at his sides, as did his fellow.
“You think to save your live with a grandiose lie, my Lord Morancon. Do you actually think you can distract me from my purpose of revenge?”
Simon’s teeth flashed white in the half gloom of the cave as a faint shadow fell over the sunlit place where Carlotta was. She glanced up, then back to the drama in front of her.
Simon said, “Did you truly think that the addition of all the territory gained from Napoleon would go unevaluated, that assessors of all types would not be sent out, that plots would go unseen? I have been in the service of Jefferson since before he took office and, you must admit, my pose has been good. You thought I sought my mother’s revenues in Haiti? Not so. I was sent there to consider a situation which might prove dangerous to my country. A report has gone to Washington City on that and on you. Do you think we do not know that you sought English support for your schemes even as Burr has done? You are power-drunk and rich but you are not original.”
“Whatever you are, whatever pose you maintain, I shall not be cheated. Both of you shall die. You, Simon Morancon, were the amusement of the many who knew your history and predilections; am I to believe that a womanizer, a gambler, a hot-tempered cheat, can be such as you say? As well to believe that this woman before us is a spy herself.”
The veiled laughter in Simon’s voice touched Austin’s nerves. “I said you weren’t original, didn’t I?”
It was a mistake. Austin’s white face went red and his eyes bulged in their sockets. His voice rose to a faint scream, and he lifted the pistol. “Who cares what you are? I have carefully laid plans and the money to implement them. Mexico, the West, I have the names of those who will help. The outlaws took you. It happens all the time.” He leveled the pistol at Carlotta. “Her face is fair, her body lush. I shall shoot her there but so that she does not die rapidly. Her cries will be the last you hear as my men castrate you.”
As he spoke, the two men moved closer to Simon and one began to finger the blade of his broad knife.
“Perhaps we can strike a bargain for her life.” Simon tried to wrestle free of the rock to which he was bound. Carlotta heard the agonized note in his words and knew that Austin would rejoice in it.
“No bargains. Only pleasure! Are you ready, killer of my dear Jeremy?” Austin raised the pistol and fired straight at Carlotta’s bosom. She threw herself down on the floor in a last minute attempt at safety as the sound of the shot and the smell of burnt powder mingled together with shouts and curses.
“It is the sentence of Damballah! Die! Die! You who have misused his powers.” Joshua stood in the entrance, torn vines at his feet, a smoking pistol on the ground where he had thrown it, two others in his hands, and a great black snake coiled around his neck. Austin’s man lay silent and dead before him, the other knelt with upraised arms before Joshua as mumbles came from his shaking lips. Austin’s own shot had gone awry and he stood staring at the useless pistol in his hand.
“The sentence of Damballah!” The long hissing cry rose from Joshua’s lips as he and the great snake seemed to move together.
“I gave him what he wanted! I gave him much and would have given more!” Austin’s cry was that of the supplicant before his angry god, a god of blood and savagery.
Carlotta saw that his attention was focused totally on Joshua. She slipped out of the light, around him, along the wall, and up behind Simon, who was very still. Her slippery fingers began to work at the knots that held him but it was of little use until she looked down at the rocks scattered about. Several had sharp edges and she jerked them up and down on the ropes until the strands began to part. It was no more than several minutes but it seemed an eternity. She dared not say anything to Simon, but the urgency in his eyes warned her.
While she struggled, Carlotta saw the remorseless movement of Joshua and the way the slick black body of the huge snake reached out ahead of the man who carried it. Austin retreated before it, pride forgotten.
“I will build you a new temple here. Aye, and you shall have sacrifices of blood. Have I not worshipped you long? Have I not given sacrifices in New Orleans and honored your name? I was preparing the woman for you and you have Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy...”
The repetition of the name seemed to bring him back from some netherland of terror and his eyes flickered toward Carlotta, then widened as he saw that Simon was nearly free. “You shall not escape!” He sought the other pistol in his belt and started toward them.
Simon stood up with a tearing of the cords that bound him. He swept Carlotta down to the floor and stepped in front of her. Austin aimed at his face but in that instant the great snake’s head flashed toward him and the long flickering tongue darted out.
“Damballah! No!” The scream burst from his throat, rose, flattened out, and strangled as he fell to the floor as though knocked there. He thrashed about, his eyes rolled back in their sockets, his hands beat at each other. Another scream began and stopped. He whispered, “Madeleine, only you. Only you.” Then the booted feet drummed one final time and the breath left him.
Joshua stood where he had been as he unwound the snake from his shoulders and looked at Simon, who had pulled Carlotta to her feet. “He was not touched. The snake was at least three feet away. He died of fright and his own evil.”
“He is truly dead?” Carlotta heard the fierce joy in her voice and knew that she was free.
“Joshua is right. There is no mark.” Simon bent to look at the crumpled body, then turned to the henchman who still sat gaping. He lifted a puzzled gaze to Joshua. “What is this?”
“It is the trance. I have seen it often in those who have taken much of a potion such as has been given to him. It will wear off and he will have no memory of his enslavement. He is harmless.”
Carlotta caught at the jewels she wore and sent them scattering as delicate catches broke. Then she ran out into the fresh air of the hot afternoon. Thunder clouds built in the north and the honeysuckle scent was sweet to overpowering. All that mattered was that she lived, that the ground was hard under her bare feet, and that the sun beat on her unprotected skin. She had come from certain death into life, and nothing would ever be so fearful again.
Suddenly strong arms caught her to the wide chest she knew and a hard voice, roughened by emotion, said, “Carlotta, Carlotta. Thanks be to all the gods of man that you are unharmed. The swine meant to kill you and more.” Simon’s lips sought hers in the familiar drowning sweetness.
Carlotta pulled back. She would not be enslaved again, no matter how dear the chains. He stared at her in surprise, the lines on his brow deeper for all that he had undergone. He started to speak but just then Joshua came out. He walked with the suggestion of a limp, and the snake was nowhere in sight.
“Damballah—or his servant—has gone into the recesses of the cave. His will has been done.”
Simon went out to him and clasped his hands. “You saved our lives and the mission, Joshua. What happened to you on the Trace and how did you find this place?”
“No others came after you left though I waited several hours.
I decided then that Lenoir must have hired or obtained trackers, so I started out in the general direction that I knew you would take. I was never far behind you but I lost you when one of the zombie-men attacked me and I killed him. Apparently he had been left to watch. From then on it was a matter of caution.
I was almost too late.”
“Where did the snake come from?” Carlotta’s teeth had begun to chatter in spite of the intense, muggy heat.
“There’s a swamp down there.” Joshua waved his hand. “Damballah was sunning himself and he came to me. Justice is done. He was an evil man who enslaved many of my people and killed others for his sacrifices that he thought kept him young and potent.”
“We must bury them and make sure that poor wretch is safe.” Simon turned to Carlotta. “I will get your clothes for you. You can wash in the residuals of the stream yonder.” He pointed beyond the bluff where bushes glowed richly.
“Aye, my Lord.” She had laid herself bare before him in the cave and now could not speak civilly to him. She took refuge in courtesy to Joshua. “There is no way that I can express my gratitude to you, but please accept my everlasting gratitude.”
He smiled. “I, too, serve the American President, lady. I have done only my duty.”
It was later than Carlotta had thought; many of the daylight hours had been spent in the struggle with Austin. His body and that of his man would lie in the cave, she supposed, but it did not matter, his evil would be purged from the earth. She sat in the tiny pool of fresh water and let it cool her body as she thought of Simon and all that she had learned of him from Austin. Much was explained—his reticence, his distrust of women, the look of brooding sorrow he sometimes wore. But the love she had sworn when they faced death and which he had reciprocated? How could she face him now that her heart was bare to him? But had it not always been? She was Carlotta and she could face the future, for it would be in freedom.
In the end the choice was hers to make. Simon came toward her, his face freshly washed, the livid bruise fading somewhat, his hand held out. She was wearing the shirt and breeches, her hair loose on her shoulders, her feet bare, as she rose to meet him.
“Walk with me, Carlotta.” It was a command spoken in level tones.
She fell in beside him and they walked around the bluff, onto a winding path, and into the fading light of early evening. The silence was strained, something had to be said.
“What now, Simon? Do you still continue on with the documents? What will happen in Natchez when Austin does not return?” She was proud of her voice. It was very calm and did not shake at all.
“They will think the outlaws took him. The Natchez Trace is the most dangerous of roads. And, yes, the documents must be presented to the President. I doubt not that this will affect much of his policy toward these western territories.”
She looked straight ahead. “What about Joshua? Did you tell his true story?”
“Certainly. He is a very fine actor in addition to all his other accomplishments, and I recruited him several years ago in New Orleans.” He paused on the trail and turned to her. “It is true, you know, all that Austin said. I was all those things and more. Then, almost seven years ago, I came to America and, by virtue of some wild drinking parties, fell in with some men who were from Richmond in the state of Virginia. They invited me to their homes, and at one of them I met a man who changed my life. A tall, raw-boned fellow with an odd liking for a man, without thought of his background or antecedents. We talked about the French Revolution and ideals and practicalities. He had proposals and asked if I’d like to try. I laughed but agreed. I obtained information for him, made several journeys, absorbed philosophy, and somehow came to believe in this country and what it might one day be. I am Jefferson’s man and now my own man. I do not apologize for the past, Carlotta; you deserve the truth.” The dark brows came together as he put one hand on her shoulder and watched her face.
“Why I should care about the truth and you is surely immaterial.” She gave him look for look.
“You will exact full penalty then? You will make me say it, those words I have said so many times and never meant? I see that you will. Very well.” He put his other hand on her shoulder and held her back from him. A slight red rose in his brown face and the green eyes shimmered at her. “Carlotta, will you be my wife? I love you and now I think I have from the first, though I fought it all the while for reasons that you know. I cannot offer you a noble name or wealth. The King of England has seen to that. My dear mother, dead of the fever one of her young lovers gave her, tarnished all honor. But here, in this land, anything is possible. I offer you love; I offer you Simon Mitchell, citizen.”
Carlotta stood very still as the words she had never thought to hear from proud Simon rang in her ears and penetrated her mind. He had rebuffed her and rejected her enough so that she might still be dreaming. But this was no time for haughty pride. He was the man she loved, and for her there could be no other.
“‘It was no dream. I lay broad awaking.’” The words of the Tudor poet rose to her lips as she remembered how she had spoken them on seeing Simon in Haiti. “Simon, I have ever loved you. Right gladly will I wed you.” Chills went up and down her arms at the wonder of it.
His eyes flamed with green fire and he took her in his arms. Their lips joined in a kiss so tender, so gentle, that it might have been an act of mutual worship. He touched his mouth to her ears and hair, then brought it back to hers. Their arms went around each other and they clung for a long moment, lost in the glory of life restored and love found.
“Come.” Simon put his arm around Carlotta and led her the few remaining yards of the trail. She drew in her breath at the panorama before them, then lifted her face up to smile at him.
“It is a gift, Simon.”
“Aye, love.”
Banks of sycamore, spruce, and oak tumbled away in layers down to the mud flats and willows that gave onto the broad swath of the river men called the Mississippi. The evening was very still with sky the color of smoke and pewter. The sun hung on the edge of the horizon, a rounded red ball about to sink. A lone bird drifted on the soft air and through the faintly pink clouds. The hush of peace was everywhere.
Carlotta stirred in her lover’s arms. This blessing had come only after great travail and pain. She could not yet wholly believe or trust it. She said, “Simon, the voodoo ceremonies, the things we both saw, the way Austin died... do you think there really is something to all that?”
His silver-gilt hair blew back before an erratic breeze. His mobile mouth softened as he gazed into her amber eyes. “Dear love, Carlotta, we are done with fear. People see as they are meant to see and as they will it. We are taught to think rationally and will yet admit to more than can be seen. So it must be with those who believe in any faith or cult or ideal. In the end, must it not all come down to the goodness of God and belief in ourselves and others?”
“We are done with fear.” She repeated his words and felt the fires of her nightmare leave her in the warmth of this love that would now be free to grow.
He looked out at the great river and mused, “When all is quiet in Europe and the President no longer has need of me, would you like to journey to France and Spain and try to trace your parents? It is highly likely that the story the old man in New Orleans told you and that Austin believed is true. It is just unlikely enough.”
Carlotta shook her head. “No, Simon. I do not want the falsity of it. Let it be. I want to live here, in this Mississippi land, beside the river there, and raise the children we will have in freedom with you. That is enough.”
“That is everything.” Simon bent his head to hers and took her in his arms as the sun sank slowly into the Mississippi.
Anne Carsley, This Triumphant Fire
