Stone That the Builder Refused - Madison Smartt Bell [18]
“There’s rumor of an expedition,” the doctor said. In the back of his mind he was recalling the disappearance of Riau and Guiaou. Toussaint was famous for his sudden, secret, rapid journeys, escorted only by a couple of his finest riders, whose horses could keep pace with his own extraordinary mount.
“Of course there are always such rumors,” Pascal said.
“I wonder,” said the doctor, “if you may have seen that letter from the First Consul which figures in the latest gossip.”
“You will recall that the last time the First Consul announced an expedition to Saint Domingue, it was only a ruse to outwit the English,” Pascal said. “The fleet was actually dispatched to Egypt, then.”
“But now there is peace with the English,” Maillart put in. “No risk of a naval blockade here.”
Silence, and the wind rushed through the leaves. The flask was making another round when a lean figure wearing a broad-brimmed hat walked in at the lower gate. The doctor choked on his liquor.
“Xavier,” he coughed. “Is it you? You’re back.”
“So I am,” said Xavier Tocquet, removing his hat as he came up the steps and embraced the doctor. He was still sticky with salt from the sea. For a moment he and the doctor held each other at arm’s length. Tocquet flashed his crooked, toothy grin. His long, salt-stiffened hair hung down his back, gathered in a leather thong.
“Well, the old pirate.” Maillart held out the flask. “Was it a profitable voyage?”
“Isabelle is most anxious for her children,” the doctor said.
“They are safe and well,” said Tocquet and drank, his Adam’s apple pulsing. “Along with a hold full of muskets warm from the Pennsylvania foundries. Is the Governor at home?”
“You’ve missed him by half an hour,” Pascal said. “He has just ridden out of town.”
“Then he must wait for the good news of his shipment.” Tocquet looked again at the doctor. “The children are installed chez Cigny, and as I found no one but the servants at either house, I came here to bring their news.” He smiled again. “And also, of course, to embrace my wife.”
“They are both inside.” The doctor turned his face to the shadow, meaning to hide his qualms.
Tocquet climbed past him; the doctor followed him into the great hall. There had been a pause in the music, so the babble of talk seemed louder. Isabelle was first to spot the newcomer. She rushed toward him, then checked herself, to give the wife her precedence.
By great good luck, the doctor noted with an inward sigh, Elise had separated from Sans-Souci, who stood at the opposite end of the room from her, chatting with his brother officers by the refreshment table and the punch bowls. His back was toward her, even though he turned his head a moment to observe. Elise was still flushed, a movement visible on her bosom, her blond hair slightly loosened from its coiffure by her dancing. She walked toward her husband with a measured step, her arms just slightly raised to join his. Her face still shone with passion, the doctor saw, but in these circumstances, Tocquet might well assume it was all for him.
2
At evening the clouds were scraped in thin mare’s tails around the setting sun, and the sea, flowing smoothly from the west beneath the hulls of the French ships, was burnished copper. Placide Louverture stood in the bow of La Sirène, rocking with the easy swells, watching the red sky in the west toward which they sailed, watching for birds. There were no birds. They were three weeks out from Brest, somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. Sixty ships of the great fleet strung out as far as the eye could see, as far as the curved knife-edge of the horizon.
Placide’s hands just grazed the railing; knees slightly flexed, he held himself balanced on the smoothly shifting deck. Now and then he tasted a burst of spray as the ship plowed forward. The army captain, Cyprien, stood a few yards back of him, propped against a mast; Placide was aware of his presence but paid it no heed. Presently his younger brother, Isaac, came out to join him, walking a little unsteadily and clutching the rail as he went. On their first voyage, from