Velvet Chains (Historical Romance) (3 page)

"If you have any last requests, Tuddle, I would suggest that you voice them now." The Raven's sword swooped down slicing the brass buttons from Tuddle's coat with such art that the fabric of the coat was unharmed.

Tuddle licked his lips. "Who are you? What demon from hell lent you its power? What devil allows you to see into a man's soul? From what do you draw your strength?"

The Raven stood with his blade poised at Tuddle's throat. "I grant you your last request. It is only right that a man should look upon the face of the one who is the instrument of his death." The blade at Tuddle's throat was lowered, and with one swift motion, the leather helm was removed. Tuddle gasped at the tall figure that now stood unmasked before him.

"My God, it cannot be!" he gasped. "You are the last one I would ever have suspected!"

The Raven bowed politely. "You are among the privileged few who have seen me unmask. Not many have knowledge of my true identity."

Tuddle made a sudden dash for the door, but The Raven was too quick for him. He caught the traitor by the shoulder and spun him around.

"When I came to you today, you allowed me to tell you all about the meeting here tonight. You smiled as I named names. I thought you were pleased to learn about the nest of traitors to the Crown and all along you were laughing at me!" Tuddle cried.

"You never dreamed today when you sang your song to me that you were signing your own death warrant, did you, Tuddle?"

"What is the difference between you and me?" Tuddle asked, dropping to his knees. "You aren't what you pretend to be any more than I am." The frightened man's voice rose hysterically.

The Raven's blade slashed the front of Tuddle's coat, revealing the bare skin underneath.

"I haven't the time or the patience to point out the differences between you and me, Tuddle. What you did was done in the name of greed and personal gain. What I do is done so that the people of these United States may one day lie in freedom without answering to a foreign power. I do it so an American like your daughter can grow up in a place where she can speak her mind."

"It's easy for you to speak of freedom; you are already a wealthy man. I wonder how patriotic you would be if you had to grub for a living," Tuddle said accusingly.

"Enough! I tire of this conversation. Have you any other request?"

"I am a dead man then?"

"Yes, the deed is all but done," The Raven said, showing no sign of weakness or pity.

Tuddle arose to face his death with a surprising lack of the fear and cowardice he had displayed earlier. For some reason it had become important that The Raven should not think him a coward. "I would prefer my wife and daughter not be told about tonight's happenings."

The Raven inclined his head. "They shall be told that you were killed by the enemy which will be the truth. It will be said that you met death as a brave man. It has never been my practice to punish the innocent."

Wallace Tuddle's death cry was muffled as the rapier sliced through his heart. The Raven felt no remorse for the deed, no pity for the man who would have sacrificed his friends' lives in order to acquire a degree of wealth.

The Raven removed his cape and wrapped the dead man in it, knowing it would not go well for the tavern keeper if Tuddle's body were found anywhere near The Duck and Hound. It might raise too many unanswered questions.

Replacing the leather helm on his head, he hoisted Tuddle's body onto his shoulder. The Raven then left quietly by the back stairway and was soon lost in the dark shadows.

A thick fog swirled about The Raven as he made his way down the back street. The hooded man knew he had done the right thing in ending Tuddle's life. He had been forced to act quickly before too many innocent people had been made to suffer. Still, tonight's business left a bitter taste in his mouth. This was the kind of war that had no appeal for him. He much preferred to b aboard his ship, seeking out the enemy in a fair fight. But he couldn't allow himself to feel sympathy for a man who would betray his country and sell out his friends.

2

Silas Dunsberry refused the mulled wine his housekeeper offered him, choosing instead a liberal amount of brandy before sending her off to bed. His nerves were on edge after the incident at The Duck and Hound tonight. Even now he couldn't believe that Wallace Tuddle had turned traitor and betrayed his friends.

Silas took a large drink of the brandy and felt it burn \ path down his throat. He cursed himself for leaving the tavern before he'd made certain of Tuddle's death. Should Tuddle somehow overcome The Raven, there would be grave consequences.

"No, it's not possible," he said aloud. "Tuddle is no match for The Raven."

The clock in the hallway struck the eleventh hour, and still Silas waited. In the dim firelight, his face showed traces of his growing concern. As the door opened a sudden gust of wind fanned the flames in the fireplace, causing them to leap higher and warning Silas that he was not alone. Someone had just entered his study by way of the garden door.

Turning his head slowly, the old man saw a dark, hooded figure move out of the shadows to stand before him.

"Is the deed done then?" Silas asked.

The dark, hooded man nodded.

Silas let out a relieved sigh. "Lord, what's the world coming to, when a friend turns on you? Before tonight, I would have numbered Tuddle among my most trusted friends."

The Raven sat down opposite Silas and stared into the fire.

"His last request was that his wife and daughter be spared any hurt. I told him they would be told only that he died at the hands of the enemy, which in truth he did."

"Yes, there is no reason to cause them hurt. It will be hard enough for them to learn of his death. I feel certain they weren't privy to his deed tonight."

"So he indicated, Uncle Silas. If that's brandy you're drinking I wouldn't say no to a glass."

"You'll have to pour for yourself; my gout is paining me tonight," Silas said, waving his hand in the direction of the side table where the brandy decanter stood.

The older man watched The Raven stand up and walk across the room to pour himself a brandy. Only he knew what it had cost The Raven to go to The Duck and Hound tonight. His eyes followed The Raven as he returned to the chair and sat down, crossing his black-booted legs.

"My God, have you any notion of the thoughts that went through my mind tonight when you showed up? Are you crazed to expose yourself so?"

The Raven took a drink and turned to Silas. "I had little choice. Not one of you would have believed that Tuddle was a traitor unless I accused him openly. I had to force him to admit the deed so there would be no doubt in anyone's mind as to his guilt."

"I am at a complete loss. How is it possible that you found out about his plan? Are you convinced that he told no one else our names?"

"I can answer both your questions at once. Imagine my surprise today when Tuddle called at my lodgings, asking to speak to me in private. Once we were alone, he told me about the weekly meetings above The Duck and Hound Tavern. He called you and the others by name, and I even wrote your names down to be more convincing."

Silas could hear the amusement in The Raven's voice. "We were damned fortunate that he chose you to spill his guts to. Had he chosen another, tonight might well have turned out quite differently."

"The deed is done. It's best to put it behind us," The Raven said, removing his gloves and then his leather helm, and tossing them on the floor beside him.

"I have been getting an uneasy feeling lately that you are taking too many chances," Silas stated, staring into the unmasked man's eyes. "You seem to thrive on danger without weighing the consequences. Should you be discovered, it would be a great loss to the cause. Tonight is a clear example of that. Suppose Tuddle had come out on top tonight? You would now either be dead, or in the hands of the British. My dead sister would turn over in her grave if she could see how her son continually mocks death."

The Raven studied his uncle's face. It was a kind face, but one which was careworn and etched with sorrow. Silas had lost his wife and only daughter because of the British, and he had never recovered from the blow. The Raven thought back to the time when his aunt and cousin had been visiting a friend in the village of Fairfield, Connecticut, when it had been burned by the British. The British had used the excuse that the town harbored spies; they had left very little untouched that day. Silas' wife and daughter had lost their lives in the fire along with several other women and children That was one reason why The Raven's uncle now worked against the British in any way he could.

"I cannot credit that you worry about me, Uncle. 1 can take care of myself," The Raven stated matter-of-factly.

Silas rose, his face red with anger. "Sometimes I feel some people give too much to the cause, while others not near enough. Good lord, every day you place your life in danger! You are too foolhardy, always laughing in the face of death. One day you will make a wrong move, or trust the wrong person, and that will seal your end." Silas looked down at his nephew, who was a handsome rogue, as many a fair maiden could attest. He was the son Silas had never had, and he loved him more like a father, than an uncle.

"I don't consciously test fate, Uncle, although I will admit, I have chosen a dangerous profession in being a privateer." He smiled devilishly. "It does have its moments, however."

"You would have me believe you are risking your life for the fun of it, but I know better—you can't fool me. There isn't a better patriot in this whole country than you."

Again his nephew smiled. "There would be some who would dispute that."

"I have to admit this double life you live has lost me many nights' sleep. I fear each day to hear you have been exposed, and you know the penalty for being a spy. Already the price on your head is high. Give up this madness. Allow The Raven to disappear," his uncle argued, not for the first time.

"I cannot do as you ask, Uncle. You, more than anyone, know of the valuable British plans to which I am privy. I must continue to pass on the information I acquire to the Continental Congress. I feel it is my duty to walk the fine line between treason and honor."

Too many times Silas had tried to persuade his nephew to give up this dangerous game, now, as always, he met with stubborn resistance. Deep inside he was proud of his nephew, but he feared for his life. Silas knew from past failures, however, that it was useless to pursue the matter further, so he changed the subject.

"Where is the
Andromeda
anchored?"

"She's off the Jersey coast. I have found a way to add two more knots to her speed, thanks to a British ship I took as prize."

Silas sat down, and his eyes sparkled with interest.

The older man had only sailed on the
Andromeda
once, and on that occasion he had enjoyed himself enormously.

"How was that accomplished?"

The Raven smiled, knowing he had caught his uncle's undivided attention. "It was simple really when you stop to think about it. I had a layer of copper sheeting placed on the hull. It not only increases the
Andromeda'
s speed, but discourages marine growth on the hull as well."

Silas remembered the summer he had sailed to France with his nephew. It was an experience he had never forgotten; even now it stirred his sense of adventure. In a way he envied his nephew for having the courage and ability to strike at the enemy. He had a crew that had been handpicked; to a man they were loyal to The Raven.

The Andromeda was as legendary as the dark master who sailed her. She was a privately owned vessel that had once belonged to an English merchant. Before the war, Silas' nephew had purchased her, never dreaming she would be used in battle. She was a sharp and rakish ship with long clean lines. She had been built for speed, with a sharp bow and an undercut stern, and she had then been modified by his nephew who had made her one of the fastest vessels afloat. What Silas didn't like was the bounty the British had placed on her captain's head—a reward of five thousand pounds to anyone who would provide information leading to the capture of The Raven.

"I would have thought copper sheeting would slow her down by adding to her weight," Silas said reflectively.

"No, not at all. In fact, the opposite is true," his nephew answered.

Both men lapsed into silence as they stared into the crackling fire, each lost in his own thoughts. At last Silas spoke. "I have a letter for you. It was hand delivered a week ago. Although it has no return address, I suspect it's from Captain John Paul Jones."

Silas stood up, moved to his desk, and removed the letter from the top drawer where he had placed it. He handed it to his nephew and sat down in front of the fire once more.

The Raven broke the seal and began to read.

"Yes, it's from John Paul," he said, scanning the letter and then tossing it into the fire. He knew it would be dangerous to leave such a letter lying around. Both men watched the hungry flames lick at the parchment. “Jones is in France waiting to be outfitted with a ship."

Silas snorted. "He will do better getting a ship from France than from our own country. He has powerful enemies in Congress who are too blind to see Captain Jones is the best damned sea captain they have."

The Raven nodded. "He wrote of hardships, mutiny, and petty jealousy."

“What else does he say?"

“He hints that if I come across someone who is of great importance to the British Crown . . . someone who could be captured and later held for ransom, it would be in our country's best interest."

Silas leaned forward. "Good lord, in what respect would that be of any help to the United States?"

"It seems that when our ships are captured by the enemy, the crew are imprisoned as traitors, under the most deplorable conditions. Some are even pressed into the British Navy and forced to work aboard their ships."

"Yes, I have heard that also," Silas admitted. "But I don't see what can be gained by capturing some high English official."

"John Paul wrote that the navy is abominably short-handed. He has been obliged to take on Spanish, French, and even Russians to man his ships. It's not being short-handed that he minds so much, but rather the cruel and inhuman treatment our sailors are receiving at the hands of the British."

"Is he asking you to do this deed then?"

"I believe he is . . . although he states that if he's ever asked if it was his idea, he will deny any knowledge of it."

Silas raised his eyebrow. "Will he now, by damn. It would seem he is willing to place your head on the block and hand the enemy an ax to lob it off with!"

The Raven laughed deeply. "It's not as bad as you may suppose, Uncle. John Paul himself tried to take the Earl of Selkirk as hostage. But on arriving at St. Mary's Isle, he found the earl to be away from home and had to abandon his plan. He says it was the most embarrassing situation he has yet had to endure."

Silas looked at his nephew suspiciously. "Are you planning to do as the good captain suggested?" Silas asked, fearing his nephew might be considering Jones's foolish notion.

"I don't think so, Uncle Silas. I believe John Paul's plan has merit; however, I have no stomach for kidnapping. I wouldn't be surprised if John Paul tried again to take some highborn Englishman and then demand the release of our sailors for the man's return. I would imagine all he needs is another likely candidate!"

Silas' face eased into a smile. Can you imagine John Paul sailing all the way to St. Mary's Isle to take the earl prisoner, only to find the man away from home? Dammit, if that's what our navy has come to, I'm glad you aren't a part of it. I'd sooner see you scuttle the Andromeda and retire her from the sea than use her in such a harebrained scheme."

The Raven merely looked at his uncle through lowered lashes. "When America is free and we no longer have to worry about that tyrant who sits upon his throne in England, perhaps then I can retire from the sea," he stated lazily. "Until that time, we all do things that are distasteful to us."

"You are a fool if you think this war hinges on anything you do. The war will be won or lost without your help or interference."

The Raven nodded his head and laughed, amused by his uncle's blunt observation. "I suppose you are right, but I do what I can, however small the contribution."

Silas looked into dancing eyes and couldn't help smiling himself. "You are a devil and you seem to thrive on causing me worry. I will no longer belittle the effort you are making on this country's behalf. Just be careful, that's all I ask of you."

The Raven drained the brandy glass, then he stood. "I must take my leave now. I don't know when I will see you again. Watch your own health, Uncle."

Before Silas had time to reply, The Raven had gone through the door as silently as he had entered earlier. The old man walked to the doorway and stared out into the darkened night. He wondered what new and daring adventure his nephew would attempt next, and secretly he wished he could go with him.