Riverbreeze: Part 2 (56 page)

Thomas and Chiffock sat proudly throughout the entire meal. They ate and drank sparingly allowing everyone else to have their fill. They could have food like this every day of their lives. Where had those women learned to cook like this? If Robert obtained a Negress when Andrais Visser came with his human cargo, would she already have the same skills in the kitchen? He didn’t want to belittle Abigail’s cooking—she did a commendable job day after day—but this food was exceptional!

Even with all the chewing going on, the conversation was lively. Of course, Robert’s ordeal at court was rehashed over and over again, the men complaining and criticizing Huett. Robert wanted them to cease their harsh comments; he didn’t blame Huett. “Everybody makes mistakes,” He said. “Ease up on the man!”

“How can you forgive him?” Wells said. “He should be whipped himself!”

“No!” Thomas snapped, banging his knife handle down on the table, making everyone jump. He agreed with Robert, as did his brother by the look on his face. Thomas and Chiffock frequently had the Sheriff over for supper. They knew what an upstanding man he was. “No, he should not be whipped.” Everyone turned to stare at him. “I agree with Robert. Yes, he allowed himself to be swayed by Sparshott’s cronies and he lost some control, but I guarantee you that he will never let that happen again. Allow him this one small mistake. I’m sure he is already berating himself enough.”

“Thank you, sir.” Robert said quietly.

Thomas nodded in return, raising his glass at Rob. The other men grumbled to themselves for a minute, displeased at being put down.

There was a lull in the conversation then; Wells was eating his portion of smothered duck, slurping the sauce with his spoon. Captain Barber was industriously chewing slices of turkey after spearing them with his knife. The Bolton brothers were stuffing their mouths with slices of rabbit pie, and Nick was savoring the eggs and apples in pastry. Jamie was enjoying everything at once, a bite of turkey, a slice of onion tart, a spoonful of chestnut stuffing. Robert just finished using his fingers to sample the sallet greens he had been so looking forward to. He found them to be delicious.

“This meal is simply splendid, Thomas.” He said after wiping his mouth. “Thank you again for inviting me and Jamie.”

“’Twas my pleasure, son. We should have done it sooner.”

“If you do not mind, I would like to ask a question?” He hesitated, not knowing if he would offend the Paulettes by asking them where they had gotten their Negresses from.

Chiffock, the old rascal, said, “You want to know whether I can still stand up to piss like a man, do you?”

Robert was mortified. His face turned beet red. “No! No!” He cried while everyone else laughed at his expense.

“He can, you know.” Joseph Bolton said with a big grin, poking an elbow into Rob’s side. “His legs may be crippled but his cock sure ain’t.”

There was more laughing at that. Robert just stared at everyone. How could they poke fun at Chiffock like that?

“Oh my dear lad…” Chiffock was still chuckling. “Relax. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Robert, but you were so serious. I couldn’t help myself. You gave me the perfect opportunity to tease you a little.”

“He’s done it to all of us at one time or another.” Nick Bannister said, giving Chiffock a reproving but affectionate look.

“You have, sir?” Robert asked Chiffock.

Chiffock just nodded, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Now Rob did smile, able to laugh at himself and with Chiffock. He inclined his head at the man, saying gravely, “I’m glad to hear that you can still stand up to piss like a man and that your cock sure ain’t crippled.” He mimicked Bolton.

Chiffock chuckled. “That’s my boy. Now, what was the question you wanted to ask?”

Rob cleared his throat, feeling slightly nervous again. “Well, the question is to both of you. As I just said, this food is simply delicious. How did your Negresses learn to cook like this and where did you get them?”

He watched the Paulette brothers exchange a sad smile. Chiffock nodded his head once at Thomas. Thomas spoke for both of them.

“We have a trading partner, Avery Bond, who travels to Barbados and St. Kitts on his regular route. Let’s just say he has a
particular
taste for certain types of women, and he had an eye for them, you might say, and he has money to spare for rare purchases…” He said this with a wry smile. “Anyway, he bought them around two years ago from an Englishman who owns and operates a cotton and sugar plantation on Barbados. That Englishman, I won’t reveal his name, deemed them past their usefulness. He had used them as kitchen staff—that is where they learned to cook—and as breeders and they were at the end of their breeding years.” Robert eyes widened at this. “They were slaves and therefore the children were born into slavery too.”

“So, the children are still in Barbados.” Jamie said, swallowing hard in distaste.

“Oh yes, learning to work in the sugar fields, the boys that is. The oldest girls, around twelve or thirteen, have taken their mothers’ places in the kitchen and in the master’s bed.”

“I can see the practicality in that.” Osbourne Wells said matter-of-factly.

“It does make good business sense.” Thomas agreed. “But let me finish my story. Avery found that the women were not to his liking after all. He thought they would be…” He stopped suddenly, waved his hand in dismissal. “Well, I won’t go into that. He thought of Chiffock and me, widowers and doddering old men…” He let out a laugh. “He told us this in good humor…” He added as an aside. Chiffock just grunted. “He thought we might have use of them, either in the kitchen or in
our
beds.” He exchanged a quick look with Chiffock. Chiffock nodded again, barely perceptible. “We’ve enjoyed them for the past year…as cooks, as nursemaids…” His voice lowered to almost a whisper. “…as companions.”

Everyone was so quiet they could clearly hear the soft ticking of the wall clock. Thomas Paulette had just revealed a very private fact about his brother and himself, a fact that could get them in trouble with the law. Now, he hadn’t said exactly that he and Chiffock shared their beds with the women, but he sure as hell had implied it.

Robert didn’t know what to say. Thank you? We’ll keep your secret? He hadn’t realized his question would bring out personal facts about the men. He felt honored that they had trusted him and the other men with this information. Robert had only told three people about his intimate relations with Makki: his brother and Roger Wentworth, and most recently Elizabeth. He would have never divulged that secret about himself to a group of men like this. There wasn’t the same taboo in bedding a native as there was in bedding a Negro, but it was still frowned upon by many, unless that native had converted to Christianity like Pocahontas had. But Makki hadn’t. She was still viewed as a heathen.

Finally Joseph Bolton broke the silence with a loud bark of laughter. “I told you his cock ain’t broke! Damn, Chiffock! I hope I have your spunk when I’m your age.”

“You can’t even get yourself a woman at
your
age, with those hairy knuckles of yours!” Chiffock teased him good-naturedly. The Bolton brothers both were very hairy men with thick black hair and heavy black beards. At least they had come well-groomed today, their hair combed and pulled back into a tail, their beards and mustaches neatly trimmed. Most days they didn’t bother with grooming; they were like Nick in that they paid more attention to their craft than to their hygiene.

Joseph reflexively spread his hands and frowned at his knuckles. Everyone laughed.

“You should see his hairy arse!” John Bolton exclaimed.

Joseph’s mouth opened and closed and opened again like a fish out of water. In the end he just punched his brother.

Everyone laughed again.

“I would rather not!” Nick Bannister said. “I might go blind!”

They all hooted with laughter again.

“You knooooow…” Robert said suggestively, a devilish grin on his face.

“I do
not
have a hairy arse!” Jamie declared indignantly before Robert could finish his thought.

Everyone laughed again!

“What made you think I was going to say that you did?” Robert said innocently.

Jamie glared at him. “I know you.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Too well.”

Robert impulsively put his arm around Jamie’s shoulders and bussed him on the cheek. “I love you too, brother.” He said, which made everyone laugh again!

Finally Thomas said, “Now that we’ve had some fun, shall we have our brandy?”

But, just when the men were taking their first sips of Paulette’s smooth French brandy, a firm knock on the front door interrupted them. Thomas looked up at the brass clock. “Damn!” He said. “Sparshott’s right on time.”

Robert choked.

* * *

The time was half past five. The place was the front yard. Robert and Sparshott stood facing each other about five feet apart. A crowd of men, doubled in size from the original eight, surrounded them from a distance of about twenty feet, giving them plenty of room to maneuver. Chiffock’s two grandsons had joined the group along with Sparshott’s cronies and latecomers, Roger Wentworth, Sheriff Huett, and Justices Palmer and Giles.

Thomas was addressing the combatants, but loud enough for all to hear. “This contest is meant as a means of settling a challenge by Master Edward Sparshott against Master Robert Bassett. You are gentlemen of honor and therefore will follow unwritten rules. No attacking of the face, neck, groin or while the other man’s back is turned. No backstabbing. No deliberate killing. You will fight until first blood is drawn and the first who draws blood will be declared the winner. If Master Sparshott is declared the winner, honor will have been restored and he will leave this property immediately. If Master Bassett is declared the winner, Master Sparshott will accept defeat with grace and humility and promise not to retaliate. Is this clear, gentlemen?”

They both nodded, but Rob didn’t really believe that Sparshott would follow the rules. And that meant that if
he
followed the rules, Sparshott would kill him. Like Paulette had said earlier, he believed this contest was going to be brutal.

“Begin!”

There was no formal greeting between them. No bowing, no inclining of their heads, no words said. Robert took his stance, planting his feet hip-width apart and bending at the knees, lowering his center of balance. His rapier was in his right hand, the parrying dagger in his left. His hands felt fine, no pain yet in his palms. However, he was nervous and tense and he had to remind himself to keep breathing and to loosen up. His stomach was in knots and he wished he had had more than a half hour to digest his supper.

Sparshott was as arrogant as ever. His stance was the same as Robert’s but whereas Robert was watching Sparshott with eagle eyes, Sparshott was smirking and his eyes were mocking.

They made eye contact. Sparshott didn’t waste any time. His eye twitched and he advanced quickly, surprisingly light on his feet, thrusting his rapier directly at Rob’s heart. Rob parried, a cross body block, stopping the thrust with the strongest point of his sword. The swords rasped apart as Rob beat the blade away, then aimed at Sparshott’s arm with his dagger. Sparshott easily blocked the stab and the blades clanged loudly in the dead silence.

They broke apart; retreated.

Rob was already breathing heavily; Sparshott was chuckling, the bastard.

Easy, easy. Stay loose. Stay calm, but alert
. Robert released the tension in his shoulders before going at Sparshott. He charged, thrust, aimed for his ribs; Sparshott parried; they slashed at each other, their rapiers ringing with each quick contact.

Sparshott attacked, one, two, three, four, five times; thrust to the ribs, parry with the sword, stab to the shoulder, parry with the dagger, thrust to the heart, parry with the sword, stab to the neck, parry with dagger, thrust to thigh, parry with sword and beat away.

They retreated, panting. Sparshott wasn’t chuckling anymore.

Robert’s hands started to hurt, but he ignored the pain. His wrists hurt; his back hurt; he ignored that pain too. He quickly wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.

He charged this time, minding his feet, keeping his balance. Sparshott easily blocked his thrust and his attack with the dagger. Their blades caught as they pushed against each other, snarling. Sparshott leaned in close; he kicked Robert’s knee and the knee buckled, putting him off balance. He fell, but quickly rolled away from Sparshott’s slashing weapon and jumped back up to his feet in a move that saved his life.

There was no time to take a breath. Sparshott came at him again, slashing across his stomach. Rob sucked it in, jumping back, parrying cross body. Sparshott’s rapier rasped off Rob’s and he finished the movement swinging his rapier in a wide arc, thrusting at Rob’s side. Rob parried that and mirrored Sparshott’s movement, the both of them stepping around, almost in a complete circle.

Sparshott was good, very good for someone his age. No wonder he was known as the best in the county.

Sparshott advanced again, his face red with anger, his rapier going high; Rob parried, crossing his rapier and his dagger at eye level to block the attack. The sword rang loudly as it hit the crossed weapons and screeched away. Rob had a clear shot to slash at Sparshott’s stomach, but the man jumped back in time.