Stone That the Builder Refused - Madison Smartt Bell [330]
“And Leclerc accepted this tale with no inquiry?”
“Judge by the result,” said Boyer. He hesitated. “The style of this action is as distressing as the substance. The Captain-General told Rigaud that they were going together to the Grande Anse by sea. Rigaud boarded La Cornélie in all confidence, in the harbor of Saint Marc, and only then was notified that he was a prisoner. Leclerc had gone aboard another ship—he has never faced the man he accuses.”
“Ah,” said Tocquet. “These developments must be encouraging for Pétion, and yourself, and the others who sailed on La Vertu.”
“The proverb says that virtue is its own reward.” Boyer colored slightly. His brocade coat collar seemed to make his neck more stiff. “I have carried out the order punctiliously—a soldier has no private thoughts. Madame Rigaud and her children are being sent aboard La Cornélie even as we speak.”
“Of course,” Tocquet said. “No one would think of questioning your loyalty.” He leaned forward to light Boyer’s cheroot. “I have no part in this military, and I want none.”
Boyer puffed. “You remind me of another matter,” he said. “There is rebellion on La Tortue—a rising in favor of Toussaint. The garrison at Port-de-Paix is . . . for the moment it is not well placed to subdue this trouble, since there is also unrest at Trois Rivières.”
“And so?”
“They say you are very familiar with La Tortue,” Boyer said. “If you would, perhaps, accept a commission . . .”
“Is the French corps thinned so badly as that?” Tocquet made a sound between a laugh and a cough. “We’ve heard it was disastrous at La Crête à Pierrot but—in any case, I have just told you I want no part of the military. My thoughts are my own. I am no soldier.”
Boyer smiled. His sidewhiskers rustled against his collar. “There are those who say you are a bandit, Monsieur.”
Paul grew tense in his shoulders and his scalp. One did not safely trifle with Xavier Tocquet; everyone knew this. But from the corner of his eye he could see that Tocquet only returned the smile.
“I think you mean a pirate, General. I may fairly be called a pirate, for I descend from the flibustiers of La Tortue, without whom all Saint Domingue would still attach to the crown of Spain.”
“I meant no offense.”
“You certainly meant to prickle me, General. But I am not offended.” Tocquet produced a flask from an inner pocket and, at Boyer’s nod, dropped a little rum into the general’s coffee and then into his own.
“Martial Besse will command the expedition to La Tortue,” Boyer said. “Perhaps you know him. He also sailed on La Vertu.”
“Not well, but . . .” Tocquet’s eyes grew distant. “I may help you in this affair—as a guide, but no commission. It is a long time since I have been on La Tortue.”
“Oh, do, do help us.” Madame Leclerc switched in her seat at the adjacent table and draped a languid arm in Tocquet’s direction. “I have heard that La Tortue is the most charming island, and I do very much desire to see it.” She put a long trill in the r of desire, and fixed on Tocquet her most vivid smile. Paul was impressed, in a way unfamiliar to him, by the smile and the rolling r and the softly rounded alabaster arm. But Tocquet’s eyes remained detached.
“Madame, I will render what service I am able,” he said, still without looking directly at Madame Leclerc. His regard seemed to pass between her and Tante Elise, away above the turtle tank and the high wall beyond it. Paul felt that his aunt was pleased with Tocquet’s unresponsiveness, but Madame Leclerc was not at all pleased.
“You were speaking of General Rigaud, I think?” she said. “I heard that he was so very piqued at the surprise of his arrest that he flung his sword overboard from the ship, rather than surrender it. Can it be true?”
She tossed her head and intensified her smile. Boyer twitched. A spot of color appeared below his cheekbone. “I am not informed of any such detail,” he said. Tocquet made