Riverbreeze: Part 2 (52 page)

“Thank you, Roger,” Robert said, reaching for the bottle. “I could use a bit of fortification right about now. What is it?” But he didn’t wait for an answer; he put the bottle to his lips just as Davis said, “Sparshott’s corn whiskey.”

Robert nearly spit the stuff out, but then decided to savor it. He thought he would never get to sample this liquor again considering his relationship with Sparshott. He took another swallow, letting the warmth spread throughout his body. “Ahh…” He sighed appreciatively.

“Jamie?” Davis next offered the drink to Jamie, but Jamie shook his head. “No, thanks.” He said.

“He doesn’t need fortifying this morning. Only me.” Robert said matter-of-factly, and he took a third swallow. But then he stopped, knowing he would need to be somewhat clearheaded for his trial and the duel.

“Yes, we heard that you’re going to provide us with some entertainment after court today.” Davis continued, a huge grin on his ruddy face.

Robert grimaced. “By Jesus! News travels fast around here! Who wants this next?” He asked, holding the bottle out.

“I’ll take it.” Nick, the blacksmith said. Robert handed it over.

“Hey, we’re on your side!” Joseph Bolton said. “Sparshott is such an arrogant ass.”

“You accepted his whiskey easily enough.” Robert grumbled. “I suppose he’s already here strutting about like a peacock.” He looked around the churchyard. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

“Oh yes, he’s here.” Osbourne said, pointing to another tight group of men in the shade of the large Locust tree. “See him? Wearing the black hat with the white ostrich feather?”

Just at that precise moment, Sparshott turned and stared right back at Robert. He smiled arrogantly, removed his hat and bowed his head mockingly. It was clear that he and the men in his circle were also enjoying a bottle of Sparshott’s whiskey. Robert returned the gesture, tipping his hat, but he didn’t smile. What he really wanted to do was tell the old son-of-a-whore to kiss his arse!

Sparshott said something to his companions and they all laughed, setting Rob’s teeth on edge.

“Mind them not.” Jamie said.

“Aye, you’ll beat him in a heartbeat.” John Bolton said.

Robert let out a sarcastic laugh. “Most likely he’ll stop my heart from beating.”

“He wouldn’t dare, Rob.” Paulette said in a serious tone. “There will be rules, strict rules. We’ll go over them right before the contest.”

Robert stared at Paulette. “Have you done this before? Either fought or moderated?”

Paulette nodded gravely. “Once. Back in London, when I was young and foolish I moderated a duel between a good friend of mine and a…” He hesitated before smiling wryly, “Well, an adversary. Let’s leave it at that.”

“I take it your friend won?”

“Yes.” He said simply, “but it was a brutal contest, as I imagine yours will be.”

Robert’s eyes widened. He exchanged a concerned look with his brother.

“But you said there will be rules.” Jamie said.

“Not to fight unfairly. Not to kill outright. No stabbing in the back or when the other’s back is turned. Rules like that.”

Robert exchanged another grim look with Jamie. Paulette continued, seeing the exchange. “Listen, we’ll go over everything before the contest. You’ll be fine, Rob. You’re twice as strong as Sparshott and twice as quick, I’m sure.”

Robert smiled sarcastically. “Thanks for your confidence, Thom. Where is this bloody contest going to take place?”

“At my place.” Paulette continued. “’Twouldn’t be appropriate to hold it in the churchyard. Sparshott has already come to me to discuss the time and the location.”

“Has he now?” Robert muttered. He couldn’t help taking another look at Sparshott. The man was so full of himself it was sickening. All of a sudden Robert wanted to charge through the churchyard and face the man right now. Thrust his sword right through the man’s soft belly and get it over with!

“Enough of this gloom and doom talk!” Roger Davis interrupted. “Have you seen this issue of the ‘
Nocturnall
’?” He showed it to Robert and Jamie.

“No, we haven’t.” Robert answered absently. His mind was still on the previous conversation. He recognized the publication though. It was named ‘
Mercurius
Fumigosus
’ or the ‘
Smoking
Nocturnall
’, and any other time he would have loved to read it.

“What were you reading that was so funny?” Jamie asked, keeping the conversation going. He watched his brother though, wondering what was going through his mind.

“Oh, you’re going to love this.” Davis said, grinning. He cleared his throat dramatically and then spoke as if reciting a poem. “Four sisters of the Adamites, for want of Dipping, had this week their Maiden-heads miraculously melted within them, but whether by the ardency of Brother P_____’s Love-dart, the Spirit, or the Hott Weather, will not be known yet this three-quarter of a year.” He laughed hysterically again as did a couple of the others.

Robert laughed halfheartedly. “Clever.” He commented flatly.

“Oh come now, Bassett.” Barber complained. “Surely you can appreciate the humor more than that! Think on it! The hot weather…! If the hot weather could melt maidenheads, there wouldn’t
be
any maidens in this colony ‘tis so hot here in the summer!”

“Maidens don’t stay maidens that long here anyway!” Huett commented, finally adding to the conversation. He had been very quiet up to this point.

“True. True.” Barber said, nodding his head vigorously.

“And the spirit…! That’s a laugh.” Wells sneered. “Of course it was Brother Prick’s love-dart! What a naughty boy he was.”

“But we won’t know for nine more months.” Jamie said innocently.

Barber laughed and slapped him on the back. “Oh my dear lad, you know the heat nor the Spirit can melt a lady’s maidenhead. No, ‘twas Brother Prick’s Love-dart! And unfortunately we probably won’t ever find out if the ‘sisters’…,” He sneered again. “…reproduced. They certainly won’t report that!”

“What say you, Rob? Do you think ‘twas Brother Prick?” One of the Bolton brothers asked.

Robert didn’t answer right away. He was still thinking about the upcoming duel. “What?” He asked, realizing that everyone was looking at him, waiting for a response.

“Do you think ‘twas Brother Prick?” Bolton repeated the question.

“Umm.”

“Leave him be.” Paulette said. “’Tis obvious we’ve rattled him with talk of the duel.”

“I am not rattled!” Robert said firmly. “Here, let me see that.” He grabbed the paper from Davis’ hand and quickly read the snippet. “Brother Prick.” He declared, looking up at the men. “‘Tis obvious Brother Prick did it.” Then he turned his glare back to Sparshott and said, each word clipped and dripping with contempt, “Just as obviously as I am going to use my sword, not my love-dart, to prick that vainglorious cunt until he bleeds like a prickscoured virgin.”

There was a moment of shocked silence as the men debated in their minds whether Robert was joking or not. Nick, the blacksmith, came to his decision first. He let out a guffaw. “I never realized what a poet you are, Rob.” He said, cuffing Robert on the shoulder.

Robert looked at his smiling face, breaking into a smile of his own. And before he knew it, the rest of the men joined in, nearly laughing their heads off, except for Jamie, who only pretended to laugh.

He knew that Rob had been speaking the truth.

* * *

Once the laughter died down, Huett pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. He said, “I hate to break up this little gathering, but Roger and I need to take our places.” Then he turned to Robert and reached out to clutch his shoulder. Robert was a little surprised by the gesture. What was this all about?

With genuine respect in his voice, Huett said, “I want you to know that if I am called upon to administer corporal punishment in your case, I will do my job swiftly and efficiently as I always do, but I won’t like it. I believe in my work, but sometimes…” He hesitated and in that hesitation, Robert spoke up, stopping the man from continuing. Robert wouldn’t allow Huett to demean his work. Huett was a good sheriff and this county needed him. Robert said, “Ned, I appreciate the sentiment. I understand you have to do your job. I wouldn’t expect anything less from such an honorable man as yourself.”

“I just hope Harris doesn’t demand it and the Justices do not accommodate him.”

Robert shrugged his shoulders. “I admit my guilt. I’ll accept whatever they deem appropriate.”

Huett just nodded, squeezing Robert’s shoulder again. He turned and left the group of men without saying another word. Davis also gave Robert’s shoulder a quick squeeze, then followed Huett to the church/courthouse.

The other five men, Barber, Paulette, the Bolton brothers, and Wells, said a few encouraging words to Rob also before heading for the church door. It wasn’t time to go in yet, but they wanted good seats which required them to be close to the door when the speaker called everyone in.

“That was nice of him.” Jamie said after everyone else had left.

“Yes, it was.” Robert said quietly, looking out over the crowd but not really seeing anything.

Bannister had remained behind and he and Jamie could sense that Robert was not interested in talking so they left him to his private thoughts while they returned to the horses and discussed shoeing them.

In the meantime, Robert pondered his case and then the duel. If he was to receive ten or fifteen stripes on his bare shoulders as punishment, he wouldn’t hold it against Huett, but he wondered how his back would feel and if he could ignore the pain in order to concentrate on fighting with Sparshott.

Well, he would have to. There was no question about it. Now he was truly hoping that Harris would accept his apology and be satisfied with that.

Earlier he had stated that he thought keelhauling would be the worst punishment, and that would still be very bad, but that wouldn’t happen immediately after court. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. A place would have to be prepared; a boat secured, ropes prepared…but if he were to be whipped, that would happen immediately after court and that would not help him when it came time to fight. His hands were already sore. His gloves had protected his hands from the reins and he had a light grip, but his palms were still tender.

Why did these things always happen to him? Because he had a big mouth and a bit of a temper at times and Tyler had never thought it necessary to beat that out of him. Was that why Jamie was so mellow and easy-going? Because Wesley had beaten him so often for his rebellion? No. Jamie had his moments also. They had certainly had their share of fights as they were growing up and still did from time to time. But Jamie had learned to control himself around people. Robert never had.

The speaker came out of the front door of the church and called everyone inside. It was time for Robert to control himself. He waited for Jamie and Nick to reach him and then the three of them walked unhurriedly to the church. Robert certainly wasn’t in any hurry to go inside and face his opponent. He never did see Dr. Harris in the churchyard. Harris was probably waiting gleefully in the front row of the church; waiting for his chance to humiliate Robert as he had humiliated him. Well, Robert couldn’t really blame him.

Just outside the door, Jamie put his arm around Robert’s shoulders for a few moments and Robert let him. He gave Jamie a reassuring smile, then stepped away. Jamie let his arm fall to his side. “You’ll be fine.” He said.

Robert just nodded.

“Good luck.” Nick said, and walked ahead of the brothers into the church.

* * *

Robert and Jamie were the last two into the building. The place was a madhouse; all the men jostling for seats, talking and shouting to each other. The plaintiffs and defendants sat in the first two or three benches while the spectators filled the rest of the space.

The church had been set up for court with a movable barrier to separate the Justices, the Sheriff, the Clerk and other officials from the rest of the men. The barrier was merely a railing attached to posts and placed at the head of the pews. There were no pine boughs decorating the room, and the altar was bare of its cloth, cross and communion plate. The atmosphere in the church was very different from Sundays and many in the county had been calling for a separate courthouse to be built. But that took money and wood or bricks and labor, and the county couldn’t afford that right now.

Roger sat at the clerk’s desk, looking splendid in his fanciest black velvet doublet and breeches. He almost looked out of place working at the desk covered in papers and ink pot and several quills. He was always extremely busy this day, recording the business of the court as well as registering land deeds and wills. This job kept him busy most days and didn’t leave him much time to run his plantation, which was why he had several servants, but court day he was usually swamped with work. Robert knew that he would probably not get a chance to talk with him and Roger might even miss the duel. But Robert wouldn’t forget what Roger had told him about Sparshott, how Sparshott’s eye twitched when he was about to attack.