Pride of the King, The (50 page)

Julien returned to the table helping Jean-Baptiste roll up the maps and documents. Lauren frowned and Jean-Baptiste said, “Why do you need to see them? You wouldn’t understand them anyway.”

“If these are false, St. Clare will be obliged to remain.”

Julien handed her the documents and said, “Everything is in order. Now get out.”

Lauren could feel the perspiration roll down her back as she started for the door. Her hand was on her knife in case either of them attempted to jump her. Her thoughts raced.
Where are Dubois’ men? Has he betrayed me?

Just as she lifted the latch on the door four guards burst in the room grabbing Lauren and yanking Jean-Baptiste and Julien to their feet, lashing their hands.

Julien screamed, “No!” and struggled violently.

Jean-Baptiste roared at Lauren, “You filthy slut. You-” but he was cut short by Claude strutting into the room with a portly man in uniform wearing a powdered wig. Lauren knew this must be Sebastian Dubois. 

“Father, I am so disappointed in you,” said Claude clucking his tongue. He pouted his lips mockingly. “How could you betray the Crown?” Then turning to Julian, he said, “Sadly, Cousin no one will be surprised by
your
involvement in this affair.”

Jean-Baptiste and Julien were too stunned to speak. Lauren realized then that Claude had seen his opportunity to usurp ownership of the lead mine and seize his cousin’s trade venture by informing on them all and deal with St. Clare himself. Dubois chose to betray Lauren and save himself.

Sebastian Dubois stepped forward and stated, “Gentlemen, you are under arrest for treason.” and jerking his head said to the guards, “Take them away.”

The guards pushed them out of the room leaving Lauren with her hands tied behind her back, her firearm and knife confiscated.

Claude smiled, cocked his head at Lauren and said, “And you my dear are a spy. Don’t be alarmed though. We won’t kill you because I want you to take this message to St. Clare. I have sent a party down to the Hudson River to clean up that family of freaks that sail
The Pride of the King
. They will be dead by the time you reach St. Clare, but I want him to know that this is just a little sample of things to come. He deals with
me
now.”

The blood drained from Lauren’s face as she tried in vain to find the right words to injure Claude. She instead took a deep breath and spit in his face. His smirk dropped and his eyes bulged with anger as he lunged at her with his long nails. He was caught instantly by Dubois.

“Outside,” he ordered.

The guard dragged Lauren down the stairs and through the tap room where the men roared with laughter and hurled obscenities at her. The crowd followed her outside where she realized she was to become the next form of entertainment at the rendezvous. Two soldiers rushed up to her pushing her face down on the ground while a circle formed.

The roar was deafening with cheers and applause as one soldier straddled her, the other held her arms and third gathered her hair. In three strokes he had slashed her hair off, narrowly missing her scalp. Lauren sobbed from fear and humiliation, her heart drumming in her chest, but she did not move as the soldier took a straight razor and began to shave her head. He started at the base of her neck, moved around her ears where he slipped several times drawing blood. He ended at her forehead. The crowd was cheering and laughing uproariously. When he finished, he stood up with her auburn hair in his hand, and they roared.

They pulled Lauren to her feet for everyone to see. She was completely bald with only a few tufts of hair remaining, blood running down her scalp and neck.

They grabbed her chin as tears ran down her cheeks and announced, “Behold! She wears the brand of a spy. Everywhere she ventures, they will know she is not to be trusted!”

The crowd cheered. The soldiers began to disperse the spectators, informing them that the show was over and demanding they find entertainment elsewhere. Lauren dropped to her knees sobbing, burying her head in her hands filled with shame and fear. Stunned and battered, she cried for James.

Suddenly, she was yanked to her feet, and she felt an arm go around her waist. It was a large trapper with greasy red hair and a beard. Lauren was pressed against his bare chest as he dragged her into the woods. She struggled wildly, but it was useless against his strength. He was followed closely by a group of men roaring, “I’m next!”

The man’s breathing quickened as he pulled her into the brush and pulled up her shift putting his hand between her legs. Suddenly her face was sprayed with blood and the man fell back, choking and sputtering. Putting the heels of her hands to her eyes to clear her vision, Lauren saw the man writhing on the ground with his throat slit.

A trapper jumped in front of her holding a knife out. “I’ll kill all of you!” he bellowed.

“Whoa, my friend. We are leaving!” cried one of the men. They all started to back away hurling insults at him. Lauren realized this was the trapper who had been following her at the rendezvous. He reached out and she recoiled. Clamping down hard on her wrist, he said, “St. Clare sent me to watch over you.”

*           *           *

It was dark when they arrived at the sutler hut on Lake Champlain. Breathlessly she thanked the man and assured him Captain St. Clare would reward him handsomely. He nodded, lumbered off into the darkness and was gone.

Not far from the shack by the woods, Gunnar waited for Lauren staring wide eyed at her altered appearance. Asking him to wait she stumbled into the shack, poured some water into a bowl, washed her hands and face and cleansed her scalp wounds. She held a candle up and looked in the small mirror that hung over the washstand. Her amber eyes filled with tears when she saw her reflection. “Oh, merciful God in Heaven,” she sobbed, dropping onto a chair. She felt hideous and ashamed. She didn‘t want to face James. She didn’t want to see the pity and revulsion in his eyes.

Suddenly, she remembered what Claude had said about attacking the crew of
The Pride of the King,
and she jumped to her feet. After wrapping some bandages around the cuts and abrasions, she ran down to the lake to wash the stench of the soldiers and trappers off of her body. She was grateful for the lack of moonlight as she hastily soaped her skin, pulled on her shift and returned to Gunnar.

Putting her hat on, she said, “I am ready now,” and climbed onto the cart. They traveled as quickly as the donkey and cart would allow down the path toward the Hudson River, bumping and jostling until Lauren’s teeth hurt. They allowed themselves one night at the Claus residence then took turns sleeping in the back of the cart while the other drove. Lauren knew she was exhausted from worry and anxiety, but something else plagued her, a gnawing feeling in her belly, a restless driving desire to find comfort and safety as soon as possible. It was not until they reached Cavendish Tavern that she realized she was going to have a child.

Chapter 52

The sign looked worn and the hats in the window faded as James stepped into Madame Vanoss’ millinery shop on Broad Street. He stopped for a moment inside the front room and looked at the fabrics and ribbons spilling out of drawers, at the flowers and feathers heavy with dust on hats no woman would ever wear. He sighed and walked to a door at the back of the shop.

He did not like coming here. He did not like seeing Kaatje Vanoss. It brought back memories of his experiences here as a youth. He remembered her taking his hand, leading him to the back of the shop where she introduced him to a world of carnal pleasures and erotic experiences. For most of his life James had believed this was the true nature of love. He had never experienced the unconditional devotion of a parent or the bonds of a true friendship, and when he witnessed affection between couples he assumed it was merely a prelude to sexual gratification. Over time he began to see love as a trap people fell into, becoming slaves to their lusts and desires. He never understood the true spiritual awakening, until Lauren. Without question he would lay down his life for her, and now he too became a willing victim of his desire, but this time he realized that love transcended mere carnal pleasure.

When Kaatje Vanoss opened the door and smiled seductively at him, his stomach churned. She represented a tawdry past he would rather forget. Her eyes moved across his broad shoulders, lingering where his shirt was open. “It’s charming to see you again, James,” she murmured, holding out her hand.

St. Clare bent over it briefly, making a pretense at kissing it. He had to admit, by most standards, she was still a handsome woman. Her figure was still firm and her eyes a stunning blue, but he was repulsed by her presence.

“Are Heloise and Cornelius in?” he asked.”

“They certainly are,” she said sweeping her arm. “Right this way.”

It was midday and the house was just beginning to stir. James could hear several of the girls moving about in their rooms. Although the shop was neglected, Madame Vanoss kept the rest of the house clean and in good repair. Many of the walls were richly paneled or wainscoted. Some rooms were painted with landscapes or flowers, and all the chambers had luxurious carpets. They climbed a flight of stairs to the rooms Heloise and Cornelius’ occupied. They had insisted on the finest rooms in the home, and Madame Vanoss had indulged the two knowing that they would only stay a short time.

“Oh my God, I feel like a prisoner here!” gasped Cornelius after Madame Vanoss left the room. “When can we go?” he asked James.

St. Clare sighed. He was weary and not looking forward to a fight.

Heloise who was seated by the window fanned herself and said, “The heat is oppressive here, and the noises I hear coming from downstairs turn my stomach.”

“I came to tell you that it will be just a few weeks longer then you may return to Duke Street,” St. Clare said. “It will not be safe for you until the snows begin in the north.”

“We were just beginning to catch up with everyone in New York when word came we must go into hiding. They probably have forgotten us by now,” whined Corny.

“Don’t worry, Cornelius. You’re hard to forget,” said James feeling edgy. This confused Corny long enough for James to continue. “
Everyone
is in hiding. Not just you. The fluyt has been on the Schuylkill in Pennsylvania most of the summer, our Providence connections went inland and those from the north have dispersed to the mountains of the western interior.”

“Have the Chickasaw and Prussian mercenaries been successful with your blockade on the Mississippi?” asked Heloise.

“Yes. I received word a week ago. No convoys are coming or going from the lead mine.”

“Have you ever thought the mine owners might be behind these slaughters?”

“Of course,” said James, picking up a cupid figurine and looking at it with distaste. “Initially I thought it implausible, but now I think they may be responsible for the strikes everywhere.”

“And what of Lauren?” said Heloise noting the dark circles under his eyes and his unshaven face. James said nothing.

“Where is the girl?” she demanded.

“In the north with Cavendish, gathering refugees from the Northern communities.”

“What! How could you leave her there!” cried Heloise.

James felt his palms began to perspire. He tightened his jaw and turned toward the door. With his hand on the latch he stated, “You will receive word when it is safe to return to Duke Street,” and he left the room.

Another month passed as James monitored the safety of the members of The Pride of the King on the Hudson and through the colonies to the south. He also continued business on a limited basis while his members were in hiding trying to generate some revenue while the organization was down. The strain began to show on his face, and his brief happiness with Lauren seemed now like a distant dream.

Late one September afternoon after a meeting with one of the local patroons, Ben Groot handed St. Clare a note. “This came for you while you were inside, Captain.”

James read the message and said, “So the fluyt is here.”

“Yes sir,” was the giant’s reply.

“Any word about--”

Ben’s brown eyes sparkled, and he handed him another note, “And this came too.”

James stared at Ben a moment stunned, then tore the note open, read it and breathed a sigh of relief. “All this news in one afternoon,” James said.

“Is she safe, sir?”

“She is safe and waiting for us at Cavendish Landing.”

James put his arms back and stretched. For the first time in months, he noticed the afternoon sun streaming through the colorful autumn leaves and the sparkling water of the Hudson. He put his tricorne on and announced, “
The Pride of the King
awaits, Mr. Groot!”

*                     *                     *

Lauren watched the canoe approach Cavendish Landing in the twilight. She was told James was hiding
The
Pride
of the King
on Popple Creek and that he would look for her on shore when the sun had set. She saw him climb out of out the canoe with Ben Groot and another man who she assumed to be his new first mate.

Stepping back into the shadows, Lauren held her breath struggling to find the nerve to approach him. She watched James scan the shoreline as his companions started for the tavern. Drunken soldiers and whores loitered outside in the balmy night air laughing and shouting obscenities at one another. Patrons came and went and still he waited, his arms crossed. He began to pace. Suddenly, he shook his head and started for the inn. Lauren’s heart jumped. She knew that she should not allow him to look for her inside. It was far too dangerous. Someone would recognize him. Even Cavendish Landing was no longer a safe haven for members of The Pride of the King.