Chapter Thirty-Nine, The Right Man, by Corso

The tavern is filling with working men looking for a drink and a game of cards or dice before returning to their homes and wives.  There is a general murmur of conversation punctuated with a raucous laugh or shout of disbelief at a story or unlikely luck with the dice. On one side of the room at a table in a small alcove is Lucien Grimaud, Loup, quartermaster on the Aigle, and the unfortunate Ballesdens.  Close by at a separate table are two of the Aigle crew, Fou and Ver. Men are curious as to the unusual presence of Lucien Grimaud and glance furtively in the direction of the small alcove, only to have their eyes met with a malevolent look from Fou or Ver, and they quickly look away.

The serving man also keeps his eyes downcast as he delivers a fresh flask and an empty tankard. Ver pours out the wine, sets the flask down and remains standing, staring at Ballesdens.  Lucien pushes the tankard to him.

‘They remember you,’ he comments mildly as Ballesdens visibly shrinks from Ver.  Lucien chuckles, ‘I think you remember them too.  My hope, M Ballesdens, is that this time you are not a putain de menteur and there will be no need for them to punish you.’

‘I swear to you I am not a liar,’ Ballesdens’ voice is barely audible, ‘not this time.’  He picks up the tankard with two trembling hands. ‘M Grimaud, you know the man I am.  I am useful because I am of no value, no more than the mice that that scurry for safety when the hawks and ravens are near.’

‘I would add rats to that list,’ Lucien lifts his tankard, tilting it to Ballesdens, ‘is that you?  A rat with another false message for me?’   He levels a menacing glare, ‘do you know how much of my time you wasted?  Can you imagine how I value my time?’

Ballesdens eyes widen fearfully.  He had not thought of this outcome.  In his dim witted mind, he knew he could not hide successfully from the search for him.  Lucien Grimaud had sent too many men after him, lured by the reward offered, but also for the chance to prove themselves to Lucien Grimaud. That could lead somewhere for an enterprising man. He curses his bad luck.  At another time, he would have wanted that for himself.  But perhaps there is still an opportunity.

‘I swear to you M!’  A quick fearful glance at Loup who raises a corner of his lip, snarling.  ‘I swear M…I came of my own accord and might yet find myself dead.  The man who gave me the first message for you is the vengeful kind.’

‘I should be grateful you spared me the effort?’ Lucien is amused and twists around to Ver and Fou, ‘are you grateful Ballesdens saved you from going through all the trash to find him?’ Loup snorts, ‘we would be happy Captain to show him our gratitude.’

Lucien looks at the nervous man twisting his hands together and shrugs. ‘Let us hope you choose to tell the truth … this time.’

‘I swear M,’ Ballesdens starts again. He knows he could die here. There is no room for dissembling and no hope of mercy.

Lucien makes a dismissive gesture, ‘say what you know. From the beginning,’ Lucien repeats quietly and Ver returns to his seat.  Ballesdens jerks his head up and down, gulping wine from the tankard.

‘My wife, son and I were hired to work at the chateau in Saintonge.  To do everything – cook, clean, take care of the horses.’

‘How did you know the man who hired you?’

‘I got odd jobs at the port … day jobs hauling, mule driving, cleaning up after the horses, killing rats, running messages, scouring holds…’  Ballesdens tells his sad sordid life story sitting hunched in the chair, gripping his hands together, eyes darting between Lucien and Loup.  Lucien knows many men like him, beginning as boys from poor families, no learning to read or do sums, without a father’s trade to inherit. He likely started with seasonal work during salt harvesting, then lingering on muddy streets outside disreputable taverns or the docks, much like the flotsam stuck to the pilings underneath the docks, earning a few coins for a day’s labor and then drunk most of the night.  He likely was pressed into a ship’s crew, no skills as a seaman or a fighter reliable enough to put a marlin spike in his hand and board an enemy ship.  He would be consigned to heavy labor, hauling sail, scrubbing decks and holds, heaving and coiling miles of heavy rope and throwing his weight against the windlass to wind up the anchor. Brutal work, scorned and mistreated by right seamen like Loup, Ver and Fou who are now looking at him with open disgust. Not all men could stand up to it for long.  Ballesdens had not lasted at sea, but he would be the right man to have at the bottom of a long chain of ruthless men in a larger organization.  He was easily expendable, unnoticed if he disappeared, and he would know not to ask questions.  But it wouldn’t mean he didn’t see anything.

‘I was there to do the heavy work,’’ Ballesdens says, ‘my wife came later for cooking and cleaning.  My son and I took care of the horses, chopping wood and anything else they wanted.’

‘Who hired you?’  Lucien asks.

‘A man I knew as Godier, but sometimes another called Muldarc. I had done some jobs for them before,’ Ballesdens replies. 

‘How did you know them – from before,’ Lucien says in a patient tone.  He pours more wine into Ballesdens tankard and folds his arms over his chest.  Ballesdens swallows and continues.

‘My wife and I managed to put together enough to have a small tavern and a few whores.’

‘I thought you said you had a son.’

‘Yes M, and a daughter.  They helped out.’ 

Lucien sneers, ‘helped out? …you whored your own daughter …’

‘No M!’ Ballesdens protests, a flash of indignation that Lucien takes note of.  ‘Not that!  She worked in the kitchen and my son was in the tavern.  My wife managed the brothel. Godier and Muldarc came a few times.’  Lucien grunted but he knew it was not an unusual arrangement for a family.  Selling liquor and women was a sure way of making a living, no matter how ugly the whores or sour the wine.  Still, there was a sordid smell to Ballesdens and his family business.

‘So, what went wrong?’  Lucien asks. 

‘An unfortunate incident with a … patron…who died.  The whore who killed him ran away and we got arrested.’

‘Let me guess,’ Lucien says sarcastically, ‘Godier came to your rescue and got you out of prison.’

‘Yes, he said he had a powerful patron who could help us,’ Ballesdens sighs, ‘we were indebted to Godier and his patron.’

Have you ever meet this patron?’

‘Sometimes I saw Godier or Muldarc with another man but,’ Ballesdens makes a wry expression, ‘we were never introduced.’  

‘What did he look like?’

Ballesdens shrugs, ‘like a man in charge of Godier and Muldarc.  Bigger, uglier, meaner. I heard them talking about him, calling him Comminges.’

Comminges  … who now lay dead and rotting in a communal grave at Saintonge. A powerful patron… Comminges would appear that way to Ballesdens.  But Comminges was not powerful enough much beyond the wharf rates he hired when convenient and discarded when not.  Lucien frowns, his mind seeing Comminges, de Winter …  the lineup of men extending in an organization from Ballesdens to … not now! he counsels himself.  Finding Alessandra is his priority, punishing the guilty will follow.

‘There were others there too,’ Ballesdens continues.  My wife called the woman the Shrew, always complaining and screaming at my wife.  She argued with the two men, one was her son and the other her husband, an Englishman. They were not supposed to be in that chateau, they argued about that too.’

‘Did you learn their names?’

Ballesdens shakes his head, ‘no, and I did not ask.  I only heard what they said to each other.  The younger man was called Thomas, the Englishman Henry. Those two did not like each other, arguing constantly.’ He looks carefully at Lucien.  

‘They had a prisoner.  A woman. They did not treat her well.  The Shrew was … cruel.’   He looks away in case he is blamed for what he says next.

‘The Shrew wanted her dead. But not just murdered.’  Lucien’s eyes are fixed on him, Ballesdens swallows hard. ‘The Shrew wanted her to suffer, horribly.’  He glances quickly at Lucien.

‘Tell me about the prisoner.’

‘She was kept in a dungeon deep in the ground.  You know the kind, with the opening in the ceiling. They lowered a little water, a crust of bread.  She had no blanket, just a bucket in the corner.’

‘An oubliette.’ 

‘Yes, that is it. But they had to take her out. She did not eat or drink, only lay on the floor very still.  She was either not conscious or already dead.  I was told to carry her to a room. She was in bad shape M, feverish, moaning, bruises openly seeping.  She was like a feather to carry. The Englishman was furious at the son, roughed him up and had to go find a nurse.’

‘There was a nurse?’ Lucien prompts. ‘I thought you said they wanted her dead.’

‘Not until they were ready,’ Ballesdens explains, ‘the Shrew had a plan as to when and where she would die.  The Englishman brought a healing Sister from Sainte to care for the woman, to keep her alive until the time to kill her.’  Ballesdens shudders at morbid intention.  After the nurse saw her …’  his voice trails off… ‘after the nurse saw her …’ 

‘What!’

‘It was the nurse who told them the woman was with child.’

Mère de Dieu!  Lucien breathes out slowly.  So, they knew Alessandra carried a child and still they tormented her… Athos’ child. They would have killed her. Ballesdens is still talking…

‘The Shew did not believe the nurse, and there was huge ruckus about it.  The men did not want to kill a woman carrying a child, but the Shrew had no such considerations.  That woman … she is the devil. Then Comminges arrived and told them you and others had arrived in the area with an army.   They were sure you would discover them and the woman.’

 Ballesdens stops talking, staring dejected at the table. ‘Then I was sent to give you a message.  I was told by Godier exactly what to say, although I did not know the meaning of it. They could not leave the chateau.  They had to wait for the roads to clear and to get you out of the area. That was when my wife and son came to work for them, cooking, cleaning and other chores.’

‘The woman did suffer M, the nurse helped as best she could, but the woman was very ill. My wife felt pity for her, made broth as the nurse directed, found a decent blanket.’

‘Perhaps I should talk to your wife,’ Lucien says, ‘shall we fetch her?’

No M,’ Ballesdens immediately reacts, ‘please M, do not involve my wife or children in my … she does not know anything more than what I have told you,’ Lucien sits back, exchanging a glance with Loup who makes a small smile.  Ballesdens is protective of his wife and his family.  He can use that.

‘You are right about her,’ Lucien says, ‘she is clearly the smart one. Nothing you have said differs from her account.’

It takes a moment for Ballesdens to understand Lucien’s words.  His head comes up slowly. ‘You have spoken to my wife?’ he asks vacantly. 

‘Yes.  Did you think I would not?’

‘But…where…’ Ballesdens stammers.

 ‘She, your son and daughter, are not far from here, under the protection of my men.’

‘You will not hurt them M?’  Ballesdens straightens in the chair.  ‘M, you must not harm my family.  I insist.’

‘You insist?’  Lucien sounds perplexed.  ‘You insist.’  He waves his hand absently, ‘do you believe you have rights to insist upon? Do you feel bold here?  A decent tavern, working men, what could I really do you?’  He slams his fist hard to the table.  Ballesdens startles in the chair, Loup, Ver and Fou do not react.  ‘Do not lie to me,’ Lucien bellows. 

The tavern is quiet, men looking furtively over their shoulders at the table in the alcove, shrug and turn back, conversation resumes. Lucien leans slightly toward Ballesdens, his face hard, all pretense of civility gone.  ‘You are nothing here. You insist on nothing to me.’ 

Ballesdens is silent, licks his lips. ‘Please, I beg of you M.  I am telling you the truth.  Please do not hurt them.’

Lucien sits back, makes a dismissive gesture, ‘why would I hurt them?  You say you are honest. Is there some part of your story you wish to revise?’

‘No, M…I swear!  I have been honest.  There is a little more that I know.’

‘Good!  Go on.’

‘The Shrew sent my son to bring a magistrate she found, a M le Bret, a drunken magistrate if I may.   My wife heard the Shrew talk about his debts and that he could be paid for any verdict they wished.   Apparently it worked, as M le Bret was counting his money as my son drove him home.  The magistrate le Bret declared the woman guilty, and the Shrew insisted that even carrying a child, she could be hung by the neck until dead.  My wife hated that woman.’

‘Was the execution carried out?’  Lucien must ask this question, dreading the answer.

‘No, because another man arrived, someone who scared them all,’ there a note of satisfaction in Ballesdens voice.  ‘A foreigner, a soldier I would say of his look.’

‘A foreigner?’  Lucien’s mind is racing, ‘describe him.’

‘I only seen an eastern man in port once, but he had that look about him and his clothes were the same.  He was a soldier, of that I am sure, he had that quality about him and secure enough to travel alone.  He came with a carriage.’

Could it be Radu?  But that would mean…

“My wife was delighted at how terrified the Shrew was of this man and what he caught them doing.  He demanded to see the woman.’  Ballesdens is now smiling with grim satisfaction. 

‘Did he see her?’

‘They told him she died.  But he demanded to see her anyway and went with the nurse. He agreed she was dead, and said he would take the body to dispose of it so no one would know what they did.  My wife brought them a linen sheet to wrap around her.  He carried a shrouded body, put it over his horse and left.’

‘She was … dead?’

‘No M, she was not dead.  My wife and the nurse conspired with the soldier to get her out of the house.  She was quite ill, but very much alive.’

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Lucien paces in the small yard behind the tavern.  He should follow up with the nun, but his instinct is to ride for Athos.  What more can the nun add to the story?  She has suffered some apoplexy that has rendered her noncommunicative. If there is no improvement, it is a wasted trip.   Does he dare spend the days riding to Sainte and then back to Glenay?  If he leaves now, he may catch Athos and Marie at the cove.  Athos must have this news of Alessandra and the child as quickly as he can get to him.

He curses to himself … one man had arrived and left with Alessandra.  One man … the right man with the authority of his master to make them all cower.  He and Athos had arrived with an army, blew up walls, battered down doors, men had died.  It was true that Comminges and de Winter were dead, and Thomas…what does he know about Thomas? But they had not saved Alessandra.  It been one man … empowered with the authority of another to take Alessandra away.  The description fit Radu … but… his mind cannot make sense of it.

Because if it was Radu, then …

He shoves the thought away.  He must get to Athos.  ‘Ver, take a message to M Smal.  My apologies for not being able to dine with him tonight.  I am called back for urgent reasons.’  He turns to Loup, ‘I leave now. Take the Aigle to the Wrecks and keep an eye on the Belladona.’

‘Aye Captain.’

‘Also a look out for Spanish ships,’ Lucien advises as he swings into the saddle.

‘Spanish?’

‘Yes, discourage them if they show any interest in the Belladona.  I will send a message as soon as I can.’ 

‘What do we do with Ballesdens and his wife?

‘Free him and his family. Give them the coin I left and advise him to move far away from here immediately.  Comminges may be dead, but not all his men are with him in hell.  If they learn of Ballesdens talking to me, his life will be much shorter.’