The Shadows of God - J. Gregory Keyes [20]
The Russian sank to his knees. He shook a finger at Oglethorpe, as if in accusation.
“Damn!” Unoka, darker than a shadow, stepped up and wrenched his throwing ax from the warlock's head, and the man finally fell prone. The ax chopped a half-dozen more times as Unoka cursed in his own tongue and then finally straightened, holding something vaguely pumpkin shaped.
“I t'ink he dead, now,” the Maroon observed.
“Very good,” Oglethorpe managed, massaging his throat. “Let's rejoin the rest, see if they managed to leave any of the Tories alive that we might question them.”
They hadn't, but the women were all right. Jenny Musgrove leapt right into Oglethorpe's bloody arms.
“Margrave!” she gasped.
“There, miss,” he soothed. “Are you well?”
“Well enough.”
“Did they …?” He didn't know how to complete the sentence.
She looked down, her eyes a little dull, and he took that for an affirmative.
“Poor Jenny,” Oglethorpe said, stroking her hair. “I've betrayed you.” By leading the doomed Continental Army. He should have been here, with his people, not off on Franklin's errands.
“You're here now,” Jenny murmured. “You'll set things to rights, won't you?”
“By God, yes,” he said. “Can you tell me how many more men there are on the plantation? In the house?”
“A few more in the house, but most of ‘em went to Fort Montgomery. They say to fight Mr. Nairne, who brought the army down from Fort Moore.”
“How many is a few, Jenny?”
“Ten, I think.”
“Ten.” He almost laughed. Who was this general who had taken his house for a command center? Not the best or the brightest the Pretender had to field, Oglethorpe guessed. He turned to MacKay. “Go. Tell Captain Parmenter to cross the river by the hour before dawn and join us at my house. I'll have it back, I think.”
“We took most in their beds, sir,” Captain Parmenter told Oglethorpe a few hours later. “Van der Mann was wounded, but he'll live. Otherwise, no casualties.”
“Good. And who did we catch napping in my bed?”
“I think you'll like this, sir.”
“Will I?”
“Yes, sir.”
Oglethorpe followed him into the house. It was a two-story building, not logs, by damn, but good split timbers over a stone foundation. It would never compare with his family's estates in England, but then those were destroyed, and this still stood, and he had built it from nothing. There was something good in that.
“Sir!”
He turned at the familiar voice and saw Joseph, his valet.
“Good God, man, are you well?” Oglethorpe asked.
“Well enough, sir, now that you've returned.”
“You remained here? I expected you should have fled.”
The old black man shrugged. “Where to, sir?”
“Well, I'm glad you stayed. And I'm glad you're well. Do you have any complaints I should take up with our guest?”
“Not so much for me, sir, but the women had some rough treatment.”
“I'm aware of that. Did this general, whoever he is, take part in that obscene business?”
“No, sir. I don't think he knew.”
“We will sort out who did what—and who knew what. You will help me with that, Joseph?”
“Quite right, sir.”
“Good. Well—show me to my guest, will you?”
“With pleasure, sir.”
He followed Joseph to the library, where the leader of the occupying force awaited. When Oglethorpe saw who it was, he uttered a sharp laugh.
“Well, I'll be damned. Bobbing John.”
The ruddy-faced old man in the armchair blushed a darker shade of crimson. “Young Oglethorpe,” the Earl of Mar muttered.
“Not so young anymore, my good Mar, but I'm flattered that you place me.”
“You disgust me. You're a traitor to the cause and a warrior without honor. You studied with Eugène of Savoy, man! How is it you conduct yourself this way, attacking a gentleman in his headquarters, in the wee hours of dawn. It isn't right!”
Oglethorpe grinned coldly. “My lord, this is my home you are squatting in. Those are