Stone That the Builder Refused - Madison Smartt Bell [196]
Toussaint stood up. He passed a hand across his face, then dropped his kerchiefed forehead into his palm. Tocquet drew out one of his cheroots.
“Don’t light that.” Toussaint raised his head sharply. “You know I do not abide tobacco. It is ill news that you bring.”
“I bring news of your family also,” Tocquet said. “They are safe, but on the move from Cocherelle into the mountains.”
Toussaint’s eyes fixed on Gros-Jean. “Sé lavérité l’ap di?”
“Yes,” said Gros-Jean. “I have seen with my own eyes—everything he says is true.”
“Let them go to Pont d’Ester,” Toussaint said, speaking equally to Tocquet and Gros-Jean. “Say that I will come there afterward, when I have done my duty here.”
As he spoke, fleeing men began to break through the post, field hands and regular troops together. Toussaint turned halfway toward Placide. Labarre came staggering up and sagged his weight against the almond trunk.
“My snipers are dead,” he gasped.
“All?” said Toussaint.
Labarre nodded, wheezing for breath. Guiaou and Guerrier rode up to the tree and turned their horses tightly.
“All killed by the cannons,” Labarre said. “The blanc soldiers are coming. They are coming fast.”
Toussaint slapped his bicorne hat onto his head. “Re-form the troops on the floor of the ravine,” he told Magny, then snapped at Tocquet, “Go now, and bring my message to my wife.” At last to Placide: “Take these people down the gorge—and get the doctor behind the third entrenchment.”
Paulette splashed a little more rum against the clenched teeth of the patient, as the doctor probed in the top of his wounded thigh. Fontelle pressed the limb to stillness with both her knees. At last he straightened, the small of his back aching and clenched. Between his pincer tips was a musket ball, blunted against a bone. He passed the instrument to Paulette and held out his empty hands—Fontelle poured hot water over them. The sound of firing seemed suddenly to have come nearer, and now there were cries and confusion on the bank above them. The doctor peered toward Morne Barade. Tocquet, Placide, and Gros-Jean were just coming through the second entrenchment.
“They’ve broken through,” Tocquet said. “I think they’ve broken—” Though his visible agitation was slight, it was more than the doctor had ever seen in him. “You’d better get out of this, Antoine. The fighting has moved down to the bottom of the ravine.”
“Take Caco and Paul back to Nanon,” the doctor said.
“Yes, of course, and yourself with them,” said Tocquet. “Come along, will you? You’ll not be missed—they’re going to be routed here.”
The doctor hesitated, then shook his head. “I’m needed where I am.”
“You’re mad,” Tocquet said shortly. He looked to Fontelle and Paulette, who exchanged a brief glance.
“N’ap reté isit,” Fontelle said, wiping her hands on her apron. We’re staying here.
Tocquet shrugged. “As you like, then. Come Paul, come Caco!” He leaned forward suddenly, grasped the doctor by both shoulders, and gave him a little shake. “Save your own life, Antoine, if you can find the time.”
The doctor swung Paul up onto his donkey, squeezed his hands, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Caco had already scrambled up behind him, not waiting for assistance. The doctor watched them all ride down and around the next bend in the ravine. The moon was dropping low over the line of their departure. When they were gone, the doctor became aware that Placide was standing by him.
“The Governor-General orders that you remove the hospital behind the third entrenchment.”
“Yes,” said the doctor. “No doubt that is best.”
But Placide somehow was still expectant. “Doctor,” he said, in a lower voice. “Have you ever killed anyone?”
“Yes,” said the doctor. “More than once.” He turned and touched the back of Placide’s hand. “It’s terrible,” he said. “But better than being killed yourself.”
“W’ap goumen fò, monchè.” Toussaint