Chapter Fifty-Three, Son of France No More, by Corso

End of the second dog watch – aboard the Belladonna …

‘Ahoy the deck!’ 

‘I see it,’ the quartermaster of the Belladonna M Jabari holds the spy glass steady. ‘Merde,’ he mutters to himself just able to see the blink of light in the early evening hour.  He counts the number of times the light is snuffed and then reappears.  ‘Three,’ he murmurs. 

‘M Jabari.’ Captain Renacer appears next to him, training his spyglass on the bluff.  They wait together for the signal to be repeated. 

‘Three,’ Captain Renacer says.

‘Agree Captain. It was easier to see this time.’

‘Three days M Jabari.  We will get the second signal in three days.   Ask the pilot to join us in my cabin.  We review the maps again.’  Captain Renacer stares at the bluff, seeing the complex formation of shoals, rocks, currents, tide and beach that combine to form a most dangerous cove, with an ominous name.  It is accurate, attested by the number of ships grounded on the shoals, boats smashed to fragments on the jagged rocks and men drowned. 

The Wrecks. 

He turns away from the rail.  There is no room for error in the Wrecks. 

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Rouen…

A moonless night, fog hovers, drifting from the river.  The shape of a building looms large.  A sliver of light as a door cracks open, just enough for several figures to slip through.  The door closes and they are enveloped into the darkness and vanish. Somewhere in the distance, a pistol shot echoes through the stillness of night.   

Inside the warehouse, the air is musty and stale, the only light is a lantern placed on a nearby crate. The light is sufficient to show the outlines of heavy canvas bundles, small casks and a tall stack of crates.  Beyond, the full dimensions of the room disappear into shadow and darkness.  On the stack of crates, the shadowy light barely illuminates the family crest, a lion’s head above a heraldic figure and two crows, the name stamped in heavy black letters – Murdoch. 

Marie Cessette checks that the door is firmly closed.  Raoul hands Henri Bernard the clothes they removed from a drugged Thomas Renard. ‘You are roughly the same size,’ Raoul says, ‘please dress quickly.  We must leave immediately.’ 

‘Am I .. him?’ Henri asks uncertainly as he pulls the shirt over his head, ‘or do I have another name?’

‘You need a new name,’ Raoul says, ‘it would be best if you chose it.  That way, you will remember it better.’ 

A new name.  Henri frowns, his mind momentarily blank.  ‘We are going to my mother first, is that still the plan?’  Henri temporizes as his mind races through names he knows. He pulls on the boots, straightens and looks at Raoul.  ‘Do we expect trouble?’

‘We always expect trouble,’ Raoul says.  ‘Then I need a sword and a pistol,’ Henri replies, noting Raoul’s slight frown.  ‘I am capable,’ Henri says firmly.

‘I know of your proficiency,’ Raoul acknowledges, ‘but you have been imprisoned for some time, and are …’

‘Diminished?’ Henri’s firm voice supplies the missing word.  He stands straight and tall, meeting Raoul’s eyes.  ‘I might agree to some degree of compromise, but this is my life, and you are my friends.  If needs be, I will do my part to protect us.’  His eyes flicker to Marie Cessette.

…he sounds like a king… flashes through Marie Cessette’s mind, as she watches her husband and her lover negotiate this decision.  Finally, Raoul hands Henri a scabbard, sword, and a pistol.  Henri buckles on the scabbard and tucks the pistol into his belt, placing small bags of shot and powder carefully into his pockets.

‘Do you have a name?’ Raoul returns to other business, ‘I know this is rushed, but we must get on the road.  It would be best if you could decide now and be thinking of it to get it in your mind.  Your mother’s surname will be the same as what you choose.’

He was once called Enzo by his friends, Dauger to hide behind in prison, and then he pretended to have many names.  Who will be become now?  He understands can no longer be Henri Bernard.  Will he even be a physician?  He is leaving everything he was and everyone he knew behind, although many of those he loved and cherished in his life are now dead, murdered by the man he had trusted as a father to him, a husband to his mother.  He bends to pull on the stockings, hiding his face for a moment as tears form at the loss of his dearest friends in Italy.  But there is no time to delay for tears or memories.  He knows the risks his new friends have taken.  He must act quickly. 

Marie Cessette steps closer to Henri, her voice kind, ‘a name of a friend perhaps.’ Her eyes sweep anxiously over his expression, ‘someone you may like to remember. That may be easiest.’

Henri nods slowly.  He once had two best friends, Tomaso and Niccolo.  They studied medicine together in Rome at the university, La Sapienza.  They had a beautiful sister, Lucia, who he thought he would marry. He was welcomed as Enzo into their family. For a long time now, he has feigned losing his mind, calling himself many names, instructed to include Thomas in his meandering madness.  It has tainted the name, and he cannot bear to use it, no matter if it reminds him of his dear friend Tomaso Ancilotti.

‘Nicholas,’ he says softly. Raoul nods looking sad, recognizing the name as one of two young men, their sister and father murdered by Rochefort in his attempt to expunge Henri’s past.  Many innocent lives were taken in that effort.

‘A good name,’ Raoul says. ‘And a surname? Not the last name of someone from Italy,’ Raoul thinks to add.  ‘It might be too easy to track you, should anyone have that intent. An English name would work.’

 ‘English?’   

‘You speak the language,’ Raoul reasons, ‘just not French or Italian.’   He waits with barely concealed impatience, ‘please, I wish I could be more patient, but we must leave now.’

Henri blows out an exasperated breath, raking a hand through his hair.  He looks helplessly around the warehouse, not knowing what he is looking at or why.  His eyes return to the crates.  He makes a wry chuckle and looks at Raoul.

‘Murdoch… Nicholas Murdoch.’

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They ride west and then turn south, the ocean to their right at varying distances as the road follows the coastline.  In the late night hours, they pass quiet villages, changing horses, rousing sleepy stable boys at small inns to take their weary mounts and retack fresh horses.  In these intervals, Henri insists they try to rest, sleep if they can and eat hot food. 

‘We must press on,’ Raoul says impatiently.

‘We will not keep up our strength,’ Henri reasons as a physician.  He watches Marie Cessette, worried that she will not be able to maintain the pace of their travel.  But Marie Cessette surprises both men with her implacable will and good humor. At the first station, she dismounts and hands the stable boy the reins, walks directly to Henri and holds out her hand, ‘pleased to meet you sir, may I know your name?’

She speaks to him in barely accented English, and he gapes at her.  She widens her eyes at him warily, ‘a man who cannot say his name.  Suspicious.’

He affects a bow and manages to say, ‘Nicholas Murdoch.’ and she smiles, ‘very pleased to meet you good sir.’ 

Mr. Murdoch, turns to Raoul, realizing there is more to consider than just a name, ‘Do I need to worry about where in England I am from?’  

Raoul looks thoughtful, ‘your father was Scotch, your mother French.  Your father traveled. You lived outside the bigger cities.  Keep it simple, keep it brief.’ 

Henri opens his mouth and then closes it again.  He has too many questions – what was his father’s business? Was he a nobleman, a landlord or a farmer?  How does he explain his education?  Where did he train to be a physician?  Or if he is not to be a physician in his new life, but if necessity dictates he use his skills, how does he explain his practice?

Marie Cessette sees his distress and tries to comfort him, ‘please, do not worry over all of it now. You have a name, and you are following many others who seek out a new life in the colonies.  It will come to you in time.’  She smiles encouragingly.

He smiles too but in that moment, his eyes convey a different expression.  He is going to a new life, but to do that, he must leave her.  She cannot bear the sadness she sees and turns away to blink back her own tears. 

At the end of the second day, to maintain the fiction of three cavaliers traveling together Raoul secures one room in an inn.  ‘You go first,’ he murmurs gently to Marie Cessette, ‘do not use all the hot water,’ he quips and squeezes her arm affectionately, ‘we will be up in a short while.’ 

They rise before dawn, their horses fresh and are soon back on the road.  The road winds past thickets of scrubby shrubs and thick gorse, stands of sturdy trees that thrive in strong salty winds, and inhospitable rocky soil – upright pines and twisted oaks.  By the end of the fourth day, they cross the Orne River on a ferry at Bénouville outside Caen.  Late that night, they stop at an inn, to change horses and rest for a few hours.  A room is available, as is food, assembled from what is left from a busy day.  They do not care, only that it is hot and there is plenty of bread.

‘We are more than halfway,’ Raoul explains as they eat, ‘we leave the coast road and ride straight across the Cotentin Peninsula.  It will save us time.  We will be with your mother by the day after.’

Cotentin …from the Roman name Constantia… Henri thinks of his medical studies in Rome where life is surrounded by remnants of a long dead empire and the men who traveled across their known world.  Learned facts seem of little use now … will he ever need any of it?  He realizes that this is his first long journey across the country of his birth whose history belongs to him, and yet he will never be part of its future.  His  journey through these lands will be his last.  He flexes his hands. Despite the relentless pace of their travel or perhaps because of it he has regained most of his physical strength.  He thinks of the trees they have passed clinging to cliffs, standing tall against winds and storms.  He hopes he has also regained his fortitude.

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They stop one more time to change horses.  Henri approaches Raoul hesitantly. ‘May we get a room?  I have not seen my mother in a very long time,’ he says, ‘I would like to at least be able to make myself more presentable for her.  She will have been very worried for me.  I would not like to unduly alarm her.’

‘We could all use a little hot water,’ Marie Cessette adds her support in a practical tone.  Raoul would soon ride on and get this part of the journey over. They must all get to the beach at the Wrecks where the longboats wait for them.  He hopes the boats will be there.   But he agrees, ‘yes, of course.’

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The manoir is set back from the road, behind a low fence.  Flowering shrubs border a grassy area leading to the front door and to one side is a stable with a small yard in front of it.  Raoul opens the low gate, and they lead their horses through to the stable.  A man and a boy step out, the boy who takes the reins, leading the horses away.

‘Glad to see you Monsieur le marquis,’ Lieutenant Maillard bows to Raoul and to Marie Cessette, ‘Madame.’  He nods to Henri.  ‘Your mother…’ before he can continue, the door to house is flung open, Agnes stands in the doorway gripping the door frame, her expression a stream of emotions.  

 ‘Henri.’  She forms his name but there is no sound. In a few strides he is before her, taking her into his embrace, ‘Mother.’

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The second signal light flickers once.  M Jabari feels the restless ocean rollers rocking the ship and looks at the sky, noting the darkening clouds on the horizon.  The signal light repeats – once.

‘One day,’ M Jabari says, lowering the spyglass.  ‘Your orders Captain?’

Captain Renacer is also looking at the clouds as is the Galician pilot, Manoel who comments, ‘that storm is also one day away.’ 

‘Hmm,’ Captain Renacer murmurs.  He can do nothing about the timetable for either the storm or when his longboats are needed on the beach.  ‘M Jabari, muster the men and lower the boats.  M Artur,’ the captain addresses the first mate and sailing master.  ‘Stand out and prepare for the storm and be ready for our return. Pilot, you and M Jabari take the second boat.’

‘Captain,’ M Jabari starts to reason for a different command, but the captain holds up a restraining hand.  ‘M Jabari, M Manoel and I have been through the Wrecks and lived to try our luck again,’ he quips as Manoel chuckles.  ‘Not that the Wrecks did not make the effort.’ 

The captain claps a hand on M Jabari, ‘we cannot both go in the same boat.  We do not know how the storm affects our task.  We go now and if the storm breaks, we wait it out on the beach. When we get there, you are to command the loading of the passengers.  Then there can be no debate or alteration of my orders on how to proceed.’

‘I understand captain,’ M Jabari says.

They lower two longboats, although only one is needed. It is a precaution against the Wrecks claiming one of the boats.  The captain climbs swiftly down the ladder into one, the pilot Manoel into the second boat. 

‘I will see you on the beach,’ the captain shouts.   

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‘Take my hand Mother,’ Henri is one step below Agnes, the wind whipping around them, her skirts billowing up.  The path is steep, wet and slippery.  Lieutenant Maillard is behind her, holding her other hand, ‘slow as you wish Madame and small steps.’   Marie Cessette is already on the beach, holding onto her hat firmly, watching their progress. 

Raoul is also on the beach, looking up at the clouds.  In the distance, out to sea a sheet of rain is falling.  It has yet to reach the beach.  At one end of the beach are two longboats rocking with the waves surging onto the beach.  Men are in the boats and on the beach holding ropes to keep the boats fast. Two men stand together watching the progress on the path.  One man detaches himself and walks to meet Raoul.

‘Captain?’ Raoul asks the man, wearing a foul weather jacket, a cap pulled down low.  He shakes his head, ‘I am M Jabari, quartermaster on the Belladonna.  Captain Renacer has a storm to manage.’  He tilts his chin at the cluster of darker clouds out to sea.

‘Can the boats launch?’ Raoul asks concerned.

‘Yes, ‘M Jabari replies, ‘the wind is strong, it will be bumpy, but we can navigate through it.  Are you ready?  We should go soon and not give the storm any more time to get here.’

‘Give me a few minutes,’ Raoul says, glancing again at the boats.  He walks back to where the others wait.  Agnes has safely reached the beach and is waiting with Lieutenant Maillard in the shelter of a rocky overhang.  He takes Marie Cessette aside, holding both of her hands in his.

‘We must get them into the boats quickly,’ he says softly.  Her eyes flutter, but she firms her lips and nods.  ‘There is time to say your farewells to him my dear,’ he is sympathetic to the agony she suffers.  He knows for himself the pain of parting from the one he loves.  He smiles at Marie Cessette and takes the hat from her head, her blond curls tumbling down her back, curling around her cheeks.  ‘Let him say goodbye to his beautiful woman and not a cavalier,’ he jokes.  She laughs and holds her hair away from her face.  He touches her cheek, wishing he could do more.

‘Go,’ he whispers.’  He tilts his head at Henri who speaks quietly to his mother and strides to take Marie Cessette’s hand and walk down the beach to a small alcove cut into the rock.  He pulls her into his embrace.

‘I do not know how to do this,’ Henri’s deep voice is thick with emotion, he strokes her cheek, looks into her eyes, pushing her hair back and then bends to kiss her deeply.  She responds, arching her back, pressing herself against him, arms tight around him. ‘Henri…’ she is breathless, ‘neither do I. They remain locked in a strong embrace, Henri kissing her, nuzzling her neck, aching at her soft moans of desire. ‘I cannot accept that I will leave you..’

‘I do not know if I can even write to you,’ she chokes back tears, ‘Henri…’

‘Yes! Write to me,’ he insists, ‘I have letters of introduction to people, send your letters to those people and I will get them.  I must know how you fare … my love…please.’  His eyes bore into hers…

‘Yes, I promise … just hold me.’  His strong arms tighten, his strength encompassing. She rests her cheek against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart and breathes in his scent closing her eyes to commit him into her…‘I will always love you…

Under gray skies, the long boats are pulling away from the beach, rising and falling in wind driven white tipped waves.  Raoul, Lieutenant Maillard and Marie Cessette watch until the boats disappear into the first channel.  Raoul glances at Marie Cessette still watching the cove.  He looks down and sighs, then indicates to Lieutenant Maillard it is time to leave.  They walk a few paces before Raoul turns his head to see if Marie Cessette is following.

She stands alone.  The boats are gone, and the beach is empty.  She raises a hand as though to touch him once more, knowing his smile, the way he trembles with desire under her fingers, the feel of his skin on hers, his voice, the warmth of his lips against hers.  Her hand drops to her side.  She allows her tears to fall, turns to leave and stops.

Raoul is there. He holds out his hand, his eyes soft with understanding.  She reaches for him, and they walk together from the beach.