Stone That the Builder Refused - Madison Smartt Bell [273]
“But there are defections from him everywhere,” Arnaud said. “Maurepas has submitted, with all the Ninth Demibrigade.”
“Excellent,” said Tocquet. “Then we should be safe at Port-de-Paix, if we could get there.” He paused. “Well, Toussaint will be set back by that, no doubt, but he won’t be incapacitated. He was fighting today on the road from Marmelade. He has drawn Leclerc off, and most of his troops and his generals, to some concentration at Petite Rivière—which I’ll wager will prove to be a diversion. Meanwhile Toussaint has got around them all!—and is on his way north with who knows how many men.”
As he spoke, Tocquet sketched lines of movement over the blank tabletop; Arnaud stared as if he saw the places inscribed there.
“Between him and Christophe they may well sweep the plain, as I have no doubt is their intention,” Tocquet said. “There are not enough French troops between here and Limbé to make up a police force—you tell me yourself that Romain alone gives them more trouble than they can contain. Who commands at Le Cap, now that all Leclerc’s senior officers have marched to Petite Rivière?”
“The mulatto,” Arnaud said with some faint air of derision. “Boyer.”
“Ah.” Tocquet sat back, and touched a finger to his lower lip. “So . . . Boyer is not to be discounted. But I wonder if Leclerc may come to regret having introduced all these Rigaudins back into the field. Pétion, Villatte, Léveillé—not to mention Rigaud himself. There will be complications. And how many men can Boyer have left to his command? With so many marched off to the south? They may think they’ve drawn Toussaint tight in their bag, but you know that he is a clever old cat, and I think he has already slipped out of it.”
“If you think Boyer is so feeble, why do you insist on going to Le Cap?” Arnaud said.
“A fair question.” Tocquet laughed, rather hoarsely. Two dead stubs of his cheroots lay in a saucer by his hand. “I admit that during the recent misfortunes, Le Cap has lost much of its attraction. But it was Toussaint who suggested we go there, and I believe that he does not personally wish us harm. I think Toussaint is going to Le Cap himself, if he can, and I think he means to burn and murder his whole way there.” Again the dry laugh. “If you had a ship waiting on the Baie d’Acul, I’d suggest that we all sail for Jamaica. As it stands, Le Cap is our best resort. If Boyer holds it, well and good. If he does not, there are ships in the port. Or we may treat with Toussaint if there’s no way out.”
Nanon looked at Tocquet in some surprise, then lowered her eyes. It was strange to think that he’d allow himself to be driven from the country. Arnaud had turned his face toward his wife, who sat in the shadows, her eyes glittering from the light of the candles on the table.
“It is indifferent to me,” she said.
Arnaud’s gaze wandered over the other faces. He looked uncertain, to Nanon, and somehow diminished. He had aged in the short time since she’d last seen him, a mere matter of weeks. Or not so much that, but a shade of the old man he might live to become was hidden somewhere behind the face he presented now.
“We’ll sleep on it,” Arnaud said and lifted his glass of raw rum.
Nanon slept soundly; she was never a restless sleeper, even when troubled, and even when there was such small comfort in their lodging. The house Arnaud had raised after the burning of his plantation in ninety-one had only one bedroom, and Isabelle recovered herself enough to refuse Claudine’s offer of her bed. All the people from Thibodet slept in a couple of cases by the chapel, near the little case inhabited by Moustique and Marie-Noelle and their children. There had been such evacuation from Habitation Arnaud that it was no trouble to find room for them. Elise grumbled a little, but under her breath. Isabelle was silent,