Dawn on a Distant Shore
Page 166
Contrecoeur said, "Our political aspirations are modest. We are interested only in surviving in these ungodly times."
Elizabeth let out a hoarse laugh. "You must think us very dense indeed, sir. You are asking us to join a lost cause. To allow ourselves to be used as pawns in your holy war."
"No," said Contrecoeur, leaning forward, his fervor so bright that it changed his face into a martyour's mask. "It is exactly that which we hope to avoid. The best way to keep the peace is to keep Carryck free of Campbell influence."
Nathaniel studied the priest's face. "Your name ain't Contrecoeur, is it? You're no more French than I am."
Carryck looked up in surprise. "Can ye no see the resemblance tae Angus? Before he took his vows he was called John Moncrieff."
"Brothers," said Nathaniel. And saw it then, in the line of the jaw and the set of the eyes.
"Half brothers," said Contrecoeur.
Elizabeth said, "They sent you to France to be educated by the Jesuits."
Contrecoeur looked at his half brother. "You were wrong about her, Angus. About both of them. They are not so witless after all."
Nathaniel swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat, and he looked at Contrecoeur.
The man was nothing more than a priest. A priest like all the other priests he had ever known, steadfast in his conviction that his heaven was the only worthy goal and that every creature on the earth was in the world to serve his church, and his needs. He had known anger deep and cold enough to sear, and it all pushed up now from deep in his gut. He swallowed it back down, but it took everything in him.
He said, "So what happens to an exiled priest returned in secret to his homeland, if he's found out?"
Contrecoeur inclined his head. "You wish me ill, Mr. Bonner. Your life in the endless forests has hardened your heart."
Elizabeth said, "If we are hard, sir, it is because you have put our children in danger."
He put out a mangled hand, palm up, as if to offer her something worth taking. "As are the children of the church, Mrs. Bonner. As are we all."
Nathaniel took Elizabeth's arm. "There's nothing else to be said here. You'll have to find another way out."
"You were baptized in the church," Contrecoeur said. "You are tied to this place by blood and faith."
Nathaniel laughed out loud. "I will never belong to this place. Do you hear me, Carryck? Marry the French girl and get yourself a son, or make peace with your daughter. I'm taking my family home."
The earl stared, his expression stony.
"I am sorry for your troubles," Elizabeth said to Mrs. Hope. "But we cannot help you."
Moncrieff put himself in front of Nathaniel, swaying slightly on his feet. "Ye'd turn yer back on yer blood kin?"
"Get out of my way," Nathaniel said softly.
Moncrieff did not move. "I should ha' taken the boy and killed ye when I had the chance."
Nathaniel studied him for a moment: the long face and sunken cheeks, the dark eyes bloodshot and still bright with anger.
"I was just thinking the same thing about you," he said. "I still am."
"Stand aside, Angus." Carryck's voice was hoarse, but steady. "Let them go."
"Aye, Angus," Nathaniel echoed. "Stand aside."
Hannah meant to read while she waited for her father and Elizabeth to come back from dining with Carryck, but the afternoon in Carryckton had been more tiring than she realized. She fell asleep after just a few pages, and dreamed of the bear wandering blind through the fairy wood, trailing a chain behind herself, and calling out for help.
The sound of her father's voice, hushed and urgent, woke her. Hannah righted herself so suddenly that the book in her lap slid to the floor with a muffled thump.
"What?" she asked, frightened by the expression on his face. "What's wrong?" She looked to Elizabeth and Curiosity, who stood behind him. "Is something wrong? My grandfather?"
And then she saw what her father held in his hands: the buckskin sacks, double sewn, that he had worn against his skin for so much of this journey. Empty.
She unfolded her legs and tried to stand up, suddenly as unsteady as a new colt. Her father steadied her with his free hand.
"Did you hear anything?" he asked. "Did anybody come in here while we were gone?"
Hannah shook her head. "No. Nobody."
"You see," said Curiosity. "I told you, I would have heard it if somebody came in. I don' sleep that deep, not here."
"All the coin?" Hannah asked. "All of it gone?"
"Yes," said Elizabeth. "All of it. One hundred and three gold guineas, and four pounds sixpence in silver. The sacks were undisturbed when I fetched a shawl in the late afternoon."
Hannah rubbed her eyes and tried to collect her thoughts. "I saw Mac Stoker," she said. "He was leaving."
Her father's back went very straight. "Where? When did you see him?"
"In the tunnels," said Hannah, and she saw how the grown-ups all looked at each other.
"Speak up, child," said Curiosity. "And tell us what you know about Mac Stoker."
It was quickly told--the tunnels under the castle, the staircase built into the thick wall of Forbes Tower that came out in the kitchen window casement. And Mac Stoker with a sack over his shoulder on his way to find his crew and his ship.
Elizabeth let out a hoarse laugh. "You must think us very dense indeed, sir. You are asking us to join a lost cause. To allow ourselves to be used as pawns in your holy war."
"No," said Contrecoeur, leaning forward, his fervor so bright that it changed his face into a martyour's mask. "It is exactly that which we hope to avoid. The best way to keep the peace is to keep Carryck free of Campbell influence."
Nathaniel studied the priest's face. "Your name ain't Contrecoeur, is it? You're no more French than I am."
Carryck looked up in surprise. "Can ye no see the resemblance tae Angus? Before he took his vows he was called John Moncrieff."
"Brothers," said Nathaniel. And saw it then, in the line of the jaw and the set of the eyes.
"Half brothers," said Contrecoeur.
Elizabeth said, "They sent you to France to be educated by the Jesuits."
Contrecoeur looked at his half brother. "You were wrong about her, Angus. About both of them. They are not so witless after all."
Nathaniel swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat, and he looked at Contrecoeur.
The man was nothing more than a priest. A priest like all the other priests he had ever known, steadfast in his conviction that his heaven was the only worthy goal and that every creature on the earth was in the world to serve his church, and his needs. He had known anger deep and cold enough to sear, and it all pushed up now from deep in his gut. He swallowed it back down, but it took everything in him.
He said, "So what happens to an exiled priest returned in secret to his homeland, if he's found out?"
Contrecoeur inclined his head. "You wish me ill, Mr. Bonner. Your life in the endless forests has hardened your heart."
Elizabeth said, "If we are hard, sir, it is because you have put our children in danger."
He put out a mangled hand, palm up, as if to offer her something worth taking. "As are the children of the church, Mrs. Bonner. As are we all."
Nathaniel took Elizabeth's arm. "There's nothing else to be said here. You'll have to find another way out."
"You were baptized in the church," Contrecoeur said. "You are tied to this place by blood and faith."
Nathaniel laughed out loud. "I will never belong to this place. Do you hear me, Carryck? Marry the French girl and get yourself a son, or make peace with your daughter. I'm taking my family home."
The earl stared, his expression stony.
"I am sorry for your troubles," Elizabeth said to Mrs. Hope. "But we cannot help you."
Moncrieff put himself in front of Nathaniel, swaying slightly on his feet. "Ye'd turn yer back on yer blood kin?"
"Get out of my way," Nathaniel said softly.
Moncrieff did not move. "I should ha' taken the boy and killed ye when I had the chance."
Nathaniel studied him for a moment: the long face and sunken cheeks, the dark eyes bloodshot and still bright with anger.
"I was just thinking the same thing about you," he said. "I still am."
"Stand aside, Angus." Carryck's voice was hoarse, but steady. "Let them go."
"Aye, Angus," Nathaniel echoed. "Stand aside."
Hannah meant to read while she waited for her father and Elizabeth to come back from dining with Carryck, but the afternoon in Carryckton had been more tiring than she realized. She fell asleep after just a few pages, and dreamed of the bear wandering blind through the fairy wood, trailing a chain behind herself, and calling out for help.
The sound of her father's voice, hushed and urgent, woke her. Hannah righted herself so suddenly that the book in her lap slid to the floor with a muffled thump.
"What?" she asked, frightened by the expression on his face. "What's wrong?" She looked to Elizabeth and Curiosity, who stood behind him. "Is something wrong? My grandfather?"
And then she saw what her father held in his hands: the buckskin sacks, double sewn, that he had worn against his skin for so much of this journey. Empty.
She unfolded her legs and tried to stand up, suddenly as unsteady as a new colt. Her father steadied her with his free hand.
"Did you hear anything?" he asked. "Did anybody come in here while we were gone?"
Hannah shook her head. "No. Nobody."
"You see," said Curiosity. "I told you, I would have heard it if somebody came in. I don' sleep that deep, not here."
"All the coin?" Hannah asked. "All of it gone?"
"Yes," said Elizabeth. "All of it. One hundred and three gold guineas, and four pounds sixpence in silver. The sacks were undisturbed when I fetched a shawl in the late afternoon."
Hannah rubbed her eyes and tried to collect her thoughts. "I saw Mac Stoker," she said. "He was leaving."
Her father's back went very straight. "Where? When did you see him?"
"In the tunnels," said Hannah, and she saw how the grown-ups all looked at each other.
"Speak up, child," said Curiosity. "And tell us what you know about Mac Stoker."
It was quickly told--the tunnels under the castle, the staircase built into the thick wall of Forbes Tower that came out in the kitchen window casement. And Mac Stoker with a sack over his shoulder on his way to find his crew and his ship.
