So yet again he approached a hostile shore, he thought. But there surely was only his imagination loosing itself without cause. English Harbour? Where he and Lilian had walked on the sand often enough, hand in hand, acknowledging the greetings of the fishermen who were all that lived here? Certainly this place had not changed. The cottages still clung to die edge of the beach, the boats needing repair were dragged up, for the main part of the fishing fleet was out, the fluttering skirts still denoted where the fishermen's wives were gathered for an afternoon gossip. But now they were straying closer to the shore to watch the frigate and the approaching boat.

The keel grated, and the oars were backed. Kit made his way forward and jumped to the sand. The coxswain saluted and the oars were thrust down again. Kit adjusted his sword belt, felt the comforting weight of the pistols in his pockets, turned to face the houses and the clustering trees. The women stared at him. He knew most of them by sight if not by name. He walked up the beach, the sand crunching under his boots, and raised his hat. 'Good day to you, ladies. 'Tis good to be home.'

Still they stared at him, in horror it seemed to his eyes. But they could not yet have learned the result of the trial. And now other faces appeared at windows and at doors. But for their complexion he might almost have supposed himself back in the Carib village beyond the Valley of Desolation. Certainly these people seemed to regard him as a creature from another world.

He shrugged, and walked on, taking the path by the shore for Falmouth, a mile distant, and the cottage. On his left the longboat had already regained the frigate and was being taken up, even as the anchor was hoisted and the sails were loosed. So, Jean had once again triumphed, even if, as he had been quick to recognize, the honour of the victory was not his alone. But what would happen now? Would he return amongst the islands, burning and plundering? Or would he not consider it worth his while, after his earlier visits. Certainly, with the destruction of Benbow's fleet the Caribbean was his.

The trees on his right thinned, and he saw the cottage. How peaceful it looked, surrounded by its flower garden, waiting apart from the main body of houses farther down the road. And how deserted it appeared. But for the open windows on the upper floor he would have supposed it empty. No doubt they were enjoying their afternoon meal, like everyone else unaware of the disaster which had overtaken their lives. He had not properly assimilated the event himself; his sole concern since the end of the trial had been to get home.

He pushed the gate open, paused in surprise. The path, which Agrippa had ever kept neat and tidy, and smoothed, was scuffed and pitted, and already weeds were attempting to thrust their way through the disordered earth. And the flowerbeds to either side were also scattered, although farther back they seemed in good enough order, if they all needed weeding.

He reached the front door, an uneasy feeling causing his belly to roll. The door was locked. He banged on it with his first, and shouted. 'Holloa. Holloa there. Is nobody home? Agrippa?'

There were startled sounds from above him, and he stepped back to look up, gazed at Astrid Christianssen in amazement. 'Astrid? What brings you here?'

She regarded him with equal astonishment, but hers was tinged with a strange mixture of distress and relief. 'Kit? Oh, my God, Kit.'

'There is something the matter? By God. Lilian is ill? Open up, Astrid. Open up.'

Her head disappeared, and he waited, looking over his shoulder, and espying some of the children from English Harbour, lurking in the bushes on the far side of the path. They must have followed him the entire way. The rascals, and with dusk coming on too. Their parents would have sticks in their hands.

But why had they followed him the whole way?

The front door swung inwards, and Astrid stood there. Her face was lined and tired, her shoulders seemed to sag.

'Astrid?' He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, looked around the parlour. Nothing seemed to have changed. 'Where is Agrippa?'

He heard the rasp of air in her nostrils as she breathed. 'Dead.'

'Dead?' For a moment the word did not register. Then he seized her shoulders. 'Dead? Agrippa? But ...' he thrust her aside and ran for the stairs.

'Kit,' she shrieked, grasping at his arm. 'Do not go up. I beg of you, Kit. Do not go up.'

He checked and turned, slowly. 'Lilian ...'

'Is alive, and will be well. Perhaps. But do not go up, Kit. I beg of you. Do not go up.'

'Not go to Lilian? Then what has happened to her?'

Astrid licked her lips, and her knees seemed to give way. She sat on the chair by the door, a collapsed woman. 'She will be well,' she muttered.

There was a sound, and Kit peered up the stairs. Abigail stood there. Her belly had not yet started to swell, and she seemed no different to the girl he had left behind. But she no longer smiled. It was difficult to imagine that face ever smiling.

'Captin,' she said. 'You'll get them, Captin. You'll get those who killed my man.'

Kit instinctively took another step. Then halted.

He had known Lilian, always poised and dignified. And overwhelmingly healthy. Besides, he distrusted his own emotions at this moment. He could identify none of them, save a raging fury.

He went to the sideboard, poured a glass of rum, returned to stand by the white woman. 'Drink this.'

She raised her head, and frowned at him. But she took the glass in both hands, and drank.

'Now tell me what happened, and when, and how, and who was responsible.'

'Four days ago,' Astrid whispered. 'That close, Kit. That close.'

'You were here?'

She shook her head. 'I could only gather, from Abigail. From ... people.' 'And Lilian is unharmed?'

'Unharmed,' Astrid muttered. 'Aye, Kit, the surgeon says she is unharmed.'

'Then what happened?' he asked again.

'Four days ago,' Abigail came down the steps. 'But it was night. A band of horsemen appeared at the gate, Captin. They were masked, with hoods over their faces, and only slits for their eyes.'

"White men?'

'Oh, yes, they were white men, Captin. Lilian even thought she recognized one or two of their voices. But she could not be sure.'

'And what happened?'

'Three of them dismounted, and came to the door. It was late, you understand, Captin, and we had retired. But the noise of the banging awoke us and Agrippa went down, unbolted the door and opened it to see what the matter was, and Captin, without saying a word, they ran him through with their swords, again and again and again. I was at the head of the stairs, there, looking down. He died right where you is standing, Captin. If you look close you will yet see the bloodstains.'

Kit's fingers curled into fists.

'We supposed we was also to be murdered, Captin. Me, I hid under the bed. But it was Lilian they wanted. She says she was unable to move for a few seconds, but when they started towards her she ran for the bedroom and bolted the door. But Captin, they knocked it down in a single charge. She had no weapon save a single pistol, and this was struck from her hand before she could aim it. Then she was dragged down here, and taken out of the house, and set on a horse.'

'Did she not cry out for help?'

'She screamed until her voice cracked, Kit,' Astrid said. 'But Falmouth remained shuttered and dark. 'Tis certain the villagers had been warned not to interfere.'

'They raped her?'

Astrid's head moved to and fro. 'No. No, she was not violated, Kit. Far worse.'

'Worse? Worse than death or assault? By Christ, Astrid, you had best speak plain.'

'They took her away, she says, into the canefields. They rode for a good time, and she cannot be sure of the direction. But when they reached their selected place they halted their mounts and set her down. And the place had been prepared. There was a fire, and barrels, she said.'

Kit stared at the woman, his mouth dry. Abigail at last started to sob.

'They held her down and cut off her hair, Kit. They cut off every strand, and then they lathered her with soap and shaved the rest. But not yet were they satisfied, Kit. They took away her nightdress, and applied tar to her body. They coated her with hot tar, Kit, from her neck to her toes, and accompanied the deed with every act of lewdity that you can imagine, save the ultimate. Then she was rolled in the dust and covered all over with leaves and filth, and placed in a cart.'

'And taken where?'

'To St John's, Kit. By now it was close to dawn. The masked men rode her into town, and stopped in the middle of the main street, and took her out of the cart and tied her wrists and her ankles all together in the small of her back, and left her there. In the middle of the street, Kit. Then they thrust a gag into her mouth so that she could not cry out, and rode away.'

'Who found her?'

'The entire town found her, Kit. As her kidnappers intended. It was a fisherman first. And he roused the Pinneys at the store, and they roused Barnee. They knew not who it was, you see, and supposed in fact that she was some Negress. It was not until they took the gag from her mouth and she spoke that they understood.'

Slowly Kit straightened. Lilian, tarred and naked, in the midst of the St John's mob. With her head shaved. He looked down at his right hand; his nails had eaten into his palm, as Marguerite's had done on that terrible day at Green Grove.

'Dag would not have her in the house, Kit,' Astrid whispered. 'He said she had sinned most terribly, and this was but a punishment on her for that sin. I called upon Mr Barnee for help, and he gave it willingly enough. We got his own wagon, and placed her in that, and brought her back here, Kit. It was then for the first time I understood what had happened to Agrippa. Lilian would not speak, then.' Marguerite. And Green Grove.

'We got Dr Haines to come out,' Astrid said. 'And he examined her, and bathed her, and tried to get the worst of the tar off. And he gave her a salve for the burns ... tar burns, Kit. It leaves scorch-marks on the skin.'

Because who else could possibly have done it? She had virtually threatened him, the last day on the boat before they had reached Barbados. Her decision must have been taken then, and the message despatched by the mail sloop almost immediately. She had intended to avenge herself on him, without even knowing which way the trial would go. At a time, indeed, when all had prophesied Philip Warner's condemnation.

'And then we put her to bed, Kit. And there she has remained. Mr Barnee looked after the burial of Agrippa, Kit. He has been very good.'

Her voice was a distant mumble; her face was indistinct. So this, then, was what Lewis would have said, and thought better of it.

'But Dag, Kit. He won't come near her. He says she is accursed. He even condemns me for being here. But she is my daughter, Kit. How could I leave her alone, at a time like this? Why, she would have starved to death. But now you are back, Kit ... Kit?'

Her fingers closed on his, and he started.

You'll stay a while longer, Astrid. I beg of you.'

'Of course I will, if you wish. But ...'

He had already turned away, and was climbing the stairs.

'Kit, no,' Astrid screamed. 'You must not. She begged me that you would not see her. Please, Kit. Give her time, Kit. Every day she improves. Every day we get more of the tar off. Every day her complexion recovers. Every day her hair sprouts a little more, Kit. Do not go in to her now.'

Every day. He hesitated, his hand tight on the banister. 'You'll stay with her?'

'I will stay as long as you wish me to, Kit. But what will you do?'

'Do, Astrid? My first concern will be to seize the vermin who carried out this deed, and have them on their bellies before her.'

'But, Kit ...' she chewed her lip. 'It will mean violence, and anger, and perhaps even bloodshed.'

'And do you, Astrid, not feel anger, and a desire for violence, and perhaps even a demand for bloodshed?'

'It is not part of our philosophy,' she said. 'Life is there to be made the best of.'

'Aye,' he said. 'But it is not achieved by bowing your back to every lash that fate or hideous humanity would inflict upon it. You'll not stop me, Astrid.'

She hesitated, and then shook her head. 'I'll not stop you, Kit. I'll wish you good fortune, and success. And may God have mercy on my soul.'

'You bring them men, Captin,' Abigail muttered. 'You bring them men. God going smile on that.'

But once again, no God was involved here. This was an affair of the devil. And it would be rewarded with devil's work. The sun was already dropping behind the protection of St Kitts as he strode into Falmouth, to demand a horse from the innkeeper. The animal was immediately available. People gathered on street corners to look at Christopher Hilton, but to avert their eyes whenever his gaze swung in their direction. They knew well enough he was on the path to hell, this night, and that anyone who should cross him would surely accompany him on that dread journey.

He rode out of the village, his sword slapping on his thigh, his pistols heavy in his pockets. What did he intend. Murder? Only if forced to it. But confession and atonement. An atonement so abject that it would make it possible for Lilian once again to venture forth into public, with not an obscene smile or an obscene gesture to be noticed. He could settle for nothing less. The alternative was death.

It rained, a steady patter which suggested the onset of the storm season. A suitable night for such a venture. The rain was not heavy enough to penetrate his coat and dampen his powder, and the distant lightning suited his mood. He expected nothing more; Antigua was seldom troubled with hurricanes, and in any event it was too early in the season.

He was aware of being hungry. He had deliberately eaten a light lunch, looking forward to his dinner with Lilian, after their separation. But his belly would not stomach food now, in any event.

At the crossroads he hesitated, for the first time uncertain. The ship carrying the Warners might have been ahead of the frigate, but it could have docked only hours before. And he had already estimated the scope of the celebrations which would be enjoyed in St John's. There was no possibility of Marguerite already having returned to Green Grove.

On the other hand, she would return there, soon enough. And on Green Grove he had no doubt he would find the actual perpetrators of the assault and the murder.

He turned his horse to the right, through the lanes and between the fields he knew so well, topped the hill and looked down on the glimmering lights of the village, the glowing windows of the Great House. It was close to midnight.

He walked the horse down the hill, travelling with deliberate slowness, determined to alert no one on the plantation, enjoying the seething anger which bubbled in his belly. He entered the compound as quietly as he had come the whole way, for the gate was open, and guided his horse towards the Great House. To his left the slave compound lay in silence; above it the white village was also dark, and beyond even that the huge bulk of the boiling house loomed through the night. But a lantern hung above the main steps to the Great House verandah, and now the mastiffs barked, and a moment later they came bounding from the kennels beneath the steps, for they were always unchained at night, perpetual watchdogs to restrain marauders, be they white burglars or vengeful slaves.

And these were fresh dogs. They did not know the master of Green Grove. They charged down the slope with high-pitched venom baying from their throats, and the hired horse whinnied nervously.

Hastily Kit dismounted. He let the bridle go and walked in front of the animal, up to the house. The dogs roared at him, and checked to bark, and to ascertain his nature before loosing themselves at his throat. They panted and dripped saliva, and inhaled some more, and smelt only the anger standing out on his face and shoulders. Their growls turned to whines and they formed a circle around him, ever parting as he strode towards the steps.

'But what is that?' Maurice Peter demanded from the night. He stood on the steps, a blunderbuss in his hands, and peered at the dark figure in front of him. 'And the dogs done bite you, man? Ow me God, is a jumbie.'

'No ghost, Maurice Peter,' Kit said. 'Not yet, at any rate.'

'Ow, me God,' Maurice Peter said again. 'The Captin? But we ain't expecting you this night, Captin.'

Kit went up the steps. 'Is the mistress home?'

'No, suh, Captin. Not yet. But she arrive back in St John's this afternoon, and she send word that she coming this night. So I waiting for she.' Maurice Peter peered more closely at the white man. 'You did hear that the Colonel done been set free, Captin?'

'I was there,' Kit said.

'Ow, me God,' Maurice Peter said. 'But you there. Yes, you there.'

'And now I wish to have a word with my wife, so I'll do the waiting up, Maurice Peter. Fetch me a jug of sangaree. I have ridden long and hard. And then you may retire.'

Maurice Peter hesitated, then thought better of arguing. 'Yes, Captin.'

'Where are the children?'

'Oh, they in bed, Captin. Mistress Johnson done been sleeping in since the mistress gone to Barbados, and she does put them to bed too early.'

Kit nodded. 'Sangaree, Maurice Peter.'

He tiptoed up the stairs, pausing only when a board creaked beneath his weight. But the whole upper part of the house was silent; the only sound the faint patter of the drizzling rain on the skylights.

He reached the gallery, opened Tony's room, stood above the bed to look down on the boy. Tony slept deeply, and quietly, half turned on his side. What did he think of it all, Kit wondered? Because surely he was old enough to understand that his mother and father were enemies. But after this night his father would be gone for ever.

He closed the door, softly, and went to Rebecca's room. She slept violently, tossing and turning, although fast asleep. But she was too young to understand what was happening, yet she was aware enough to know that something was happening, and was disturbed by it.

He resisted the temptation to kiss the child, for fear she would awake, and closed her door in turn. No doubt they would grow up looking on Miss Johnson as a parent more than either their mother or their father. But then, no doubt, that was how Marguerite intended it.

He went back down the stairs, stopped at the foot to listen to the drumming hooves, ran on to the verandah. The lantern still hung above his head, its light attracting swarms of insects. But the blunderbuss was gone. In its place a jug of iced sangaree and a glass waited by the door. Maurice Peter was on his way to warn his mistress.

Kit sat down with a sigh. How tired he was. He seemed to have been tired for a very long time. He wanted to rest, with Lilian, in some quiet place. He wanted to recapture the delight of Falmouth as they had first known it. But they could never find pleasure or contentment in Falmouth again. In all of Antigua again. Perhaps in all of the Leewards, or all of the West Indies. Unless he guarded her honour and her reputation with his sword and his pistols. Well, he would be prepared to do that. Once he had had a rest.

His head jerked, and he discovered himself awake. After how long? The rain still drizzled downwards, and the night was still dark, but now increasingly chill. It could not want so many hours to dawn. And the carriage was rumbling through the gate below him and starting to mount the slope. It was driven by two slaves, and Maurice Peter rode alongside, carrying his blunderbuss.

Kit got up. The carriage came to a halt and one of the drivers got down to fix the step. Patience Jane came out, casting her master a fearful glance. She held the door for her mistress.

Marguerite wore a light brown cloak over her gown, with a hood to protect her hair from the rain. She came up the steps, slowly, smiling at him. But it was an arranged smile. Her face was tired, with dark shadows beneath her eyes. At least the cold seemed to have cleared up; she no longer held a kerchief to her nose.

'Kit,' she said. 'What a pleasant surprise. But the frigate did not make St John's. Or we would have invited you to the celebration.'

'Captain Holgate set me ashore at English Harbour,' Kit said. 'He was in haste to make Sandy Point. You'll have heard that Benbow has been defeated?'

'There is a rumour to that effect, certainly. Fetch me a glass. Patience Jane. I will have some sangaree. By God, but I am weary.' She sat down. 'So your friend Monsieur DuCasse is once again triumphant. What a pity you did not drown him in your water butt, all those years ago. You may put the carriage away, Henry Kenneth.'

The vehicle rumbled towards the stable. Maurice Peter dismounted and led his horse behind it.

Patience Jane returned with the glass, and Marguerite drank, with great satisfaction.

'You may retire also, Patience Jane,' Kit said.

The girl hesitated, looking at her mistress.

'Do as the master says, child.' Marguerite watched her go into the house. 'What brings you to Green Grove in the middle of the night, Kit, sweetheart? There is surely no more harm you can wish to do to my family?'

Kit leaned against the upright of the verandah. 'I came to learn the names of the men who assaulted Lilian Christianssen, and who murdered Agrippa.'

She gazed at him, once again sipping her drink. 'Agrippa. murdered? Then indeed there must have been an army. Lilian, assaulted? She wasn't harmed, I hope?'

'That depends on your interpretation of the word. We'll have no dissembling here, Marguerite. I came for those names, as I came for you. The men I will arrest for murder. You are going to make a public apology in the centre of St John's tomorrow morning at noon.'

She frowned at him. 'You have lost your senses, Kit. The disappointment of the court case, the exertions of travelling ... who knows. It may even be some deep-seated ailment which afflicts you. Why not come to bed, my darling, and tomorrow you will look on the world in a different light.'

Kit reached across the verandah. She saw him coming and tried to rise, and he caught her arm as she would have stepped round the chair. She struck at him with her other hand, which still held the glass. He leaned away from her fist and the glass flew against the wall, to smash. She panted, and spat at him. Here was the girl crawling out of the water butt in Tortuga all over again.

But this time her beauty could no longer affect him. The force of her attempted blow had carried her against him, and he seized her shoulder and twisted her round so that her back was to him, then he pulled the hood from her head and buried his fingers deep in that luxuriant brown hair, closing his fist to put all the pressure he could on the roots. It was, he remembered with a start of surprise, how Indian Tom Warner had held her. And as before, she gasped for breath, and her mouth sagged open.

'You ...' she inhaled, slowly. 'You are hurting me.'

'I shall hurt you more,' he promised. 'You know full well what was done to Lilian, Meg. Count yourself fortunate that I do not tie you up and inflict the same humiliation upon you. But I will have a public acknowledgment of your guilt, and a public apology.'

She tried to turn, and to kick him in the same instant. But her cloak was wet and tied itself round her legs, and she fell to her knees, her face twisted with anger and pain as he retained his grip on her hair. Her hands snaked out to catch his thighs, and he threw her away from him, releasing his hold. She fell across the verandah and through the doorway into the hall at the foot of the great staircase, lay there for a moment, then scrambled to her hands and knees, and checked as he placed his foot on her gown.

'You will have to kill me,' she said.

'I doubt that, sweetheart. I suspect, having always inflicted pain and disgrace upon others, you will be unused to enduring any yourself.'

'You ...' she dragged on her skirt with both hands, and the material split. But when she reached her feet he had again seized her hair. 'Aye,' she panted. 'You'll do well at beating a defenceless woman. 'Tis the first lesson on becoming a buccaneer, is it not?'

He shook her; as usual she wore her strand of pearls, and he could hear them clicking beneath her gown. Her eyes rolled, and her teeth clattered together.

'Bastard,' she shouted. 'Help,' she screamed. 'Help me. For God's sake, help me.'

'Hush,' he said, and shook her some more. 'You'll awaken the children. You have but to do as I ask you, my darling. Give me the names of the men. I believe there were perhaps half a dozen of them. And then signify your own agreement to my request, and you may retire to bed, and tomorrow we shall ride into town and put an end to this business.'

'You ...' vainly her fists swung, but she was held too far away from him. 'Bitch's litter,' she yelled. 'Hellspawn.'

'Why, Mama, whatever are you doing?' Tony asked from the top of the stairs.

'Mama, Mama, Mama,' Rebecca shouted, jumping up and down. 'And Papa. You've come home.'

'Children, children.' Miss Johnson bustled along the verandah in her undressing-robe, her hair in plaits. 'Why, Mrs Hilton. And Captain Hilton?'

'Help me,' Marguerite screamed. 'He's gone mad. He's lost his wits. He means to kill me. Help me.'

'Papa?' Tony asked.

'Go back to bed,' Kit said. 'Your mother and I are having a discussion on a matter that need not concern you.' 'But Papa ...'

'You'll take the children back to bed, Miss Johnson,' Kit said.

'Yes, sir, Captain Hilton. Come along, children.' She put an arm round each of their shoulders. 'You're sure there is nothing I can do?' She did not specify whom she was addressing.

'Get help,' Marguerite shouted, once again attempting to kick her tormentor and once again falling over, to sit down heavily. Kit had to go with her to avoid tearing her hair out by the roots. 'Fetch help.'

He knelt beside her. Her perfume rose from her hair and out of the bodice of her gown to shroud him in that magical scent; her teeth gleamed only inches from his face, and her pink tongue darted at no greater distance. Her breasts heaved against his thigh. Oh, God, he thought, that nothing should ever have come between this tremendous creature and me.

But yet he loved her too dearly to harm her. Having come this far, and stretched her on the floor, he had to do no more than slap his hand to and fro to bring blood gushing from her cheeks and mouth; with his powerful fingers he could squeeze agony from her belly and her breasts; he had to do nothing more than increase the pressure in his fist to have her head seething with agony. But he could do none of those things. She was now, as she had always been, the victor in their relationship. Because she never doubted her own superiority.

She frowned at him. She could see the sudden fading of decision, perhaps even of anger, in his eyes. And she could not believe it. This time she had counted herself lost.

But now there were feet on the verandah outside, hurrying, summoned by her shouts.

'Seize him,' Marguerite shouted. 'Seize him and bind him. He is not fit to be loose.'

Kit released her and jumped away from her, drawing his sword as he did so. There were half a dozen overseers on the verandah, most of them men he did not know; Marguerite had dismissed her old staff following their failure to defend the Great House against the Caribs. But these men were the sweepings of St John's. Those of them he did recognize were sufficient evidence of that.

Marguerite was on her knees, straightening her gown, smoothing her hair. 'Well?' she demanded, her voice harsh. 'What, a half dozen afraid of one man? He is only one man, and his sword has grown rusty with lack of use. As has his mind. He is naught but half a man, now. Advance on him, and he will be yours.'

Kit smiled at them. He had no doubt that these scoundrels who had so eagerly responded to their mistress's screams were the same men who had, with equal eagerness, carried out her instructions regarding Lilian. 'Well, gentlemen?' he inquired.

Still they hesitated, their swords in their hands, unable to make up their minds who would be the first to step forward

'Cowards,' Marguerite shouted. 'Lily-livered eunuchs. Afraid of him are you? Give me a sword and I will show you the way.'

She forced herself into their midst, and checked at the sound of hooves. And turned, to face her husband. 'Ah,' she said. 'Here are men. You see, dear Kit, when Maurice Peter warned me that you were waiting, I thought it best to send back to St John's for a file of soldiers, just in case they were needed. As indeed they are.'

'Then I must make haste.' Kit leapt forward before they understood his meaning, swung his sword round his head to send them tumbling back, and had plucked Marguerite out of their midst before a hand could be raised against him. 'We will continue this discussion, gentlemen, I do promise you that,' he said to the discomforted overseers, and ran for the steps.

'Then have at you,' one of the white men yelled, regaining his courage when he was presented with Kit's back.

Kit turned on the instant, Marguerite still held under his left arm; she was just regaining her breath and commencing to wriggle and scratch at his face, but his attention was held by the sword-point snaking towards him. His own weapon came up, and the blades clanged, for just an instant, before his own swept along his opponent's, with a screech of tortured steel, and his point thrust deeply into the overseer's chest.

The man stared down at the blood which suddenly welled from the front of his white shirt, while his sword-point drooped and struck the floor, and a moment later he followed it, his knees striking first before his entire body slumped.

'Murderer,' Marguerite shrieked, digging her nails into his groin.

Kit faced the remaining men. 'One down,' he said. 'You'll not let him go alone, gentlemen?'

But now the hooves were close, and the horsemen were bringing their mounts to a stop. 'Hold there,' shouted the officer.

Kit glanced at them, still backing towards the steps. But there were six of them, as well as the officer, and they carried muskets. And now they all dismounted, and presented their fire-pieces.

'Hold there,' the officer called again. 'You'll put down your swords, sirs, I beg of you.'

The overseers were obviously willing enough for that. Their blades clattered to the floor.

'Yet one is dead,' Marguerite shouted, at last freeing herself and landing on her hands and knees. 'Run through by this ... this brigand.'

'Captain Hilton?' inquired the officer.

'You'll see he held a sword in his hand when he died,' Kit pointed out.

'Yet was it murder,' Marguerite insisted. 'He made no play with it. But sought to bar Captain Hilton's departure, as he was bent on kidnapping me against my will.'

'You'll stand aside,' Kit said. 'How may a man kidnap his own wife? I would speak with Mrs Hilton, and as this place is crowded, I intend to remove her to a more private situation.'

'Stop him,' Marguerite shouted. 'Stop him. Shoot him down if you have to. Only endeavour not to kill him. Yet.'

Kit faced them, his sword at the ready. The officer looked truly distressed.

'I do beg of you, sir, not to commit violence upon my men. Be sure that they will defend themselves, and you are grievously outnumbered.'

'Then why try to stop me?' Kit asked. 'I have committed no crime.'

'Indeed he has,' Marguerite shouted. 'He has murdered that man. So shall I swear. So shall everyone present swear.'

'And did you not promise me, my sweet,' Kit said, 'that as master of Green Grove I am above the law in such matters?'

'When you were master of Green Grove,' she said, her voice at last regaining its more usual timbre, but as filled with venom as ever he had heard before. 'But you are no longer master of Green Grove, Kit. I disown you, as my husband, as my lover, as the father of my children, as the manager of my plantation. Get out of here with these men, and hope and pray that your bald-headed Dane will be able to bring you some solace.'

'My bald-headed Dane,' he whispered. 'Now you have condemned yourself out of your own mouth, Meg. I did not tell you what happened to Lilian. But you knew, as you yourself commanded it.'

'Take him,' she shouted, her voice again shrill. 'Take him.'

The soldiers were close. He had no wish to kill any innocent man. Kit reversed his sword, held it out to the officer.

'You'll inform me of the charge,' he said. 'It is murder,' Marguerite said. 'Before witnesses. We shall so attest.'

The cell was to all intents and purposes his alone. The five other inmates crowded down at the far end, and eyed him fearfully. They were drunks and brawlers, shut up for the night. And into their midst had been thrust a tiger, or so they had supposed. Even without his weapons, there was no man would oppose Christopher Hilton. Only a woman would dare do that.

He sat on the pallet-bed, close by the bars, and stared into the office, where the gaoler sat at a table and ate his breakfast. He had sat here the night, and stared, and waited. They could not leave him here for ever. And if they did, word would still spread, to his friends, if he had any. And if he lacked that commodity in Antigua, then word would in time spread to Sandy Point. Sir William Stapleton might have departed, but Holgate would be there, and in due course he would come to St John's to demand Kit's release.

He could but hope that much. Yet it had been a long and lonely night.

But now it was ending. There were booted-feet outside, and voices, and the door to the office was opening. Kit stood up, as did the gaoler, and the other inmates hastily left the far wall to join him at the bars.

Five men came in. Kit frowned as he recognized the red hair of Edward Chester, and then the short, stout figure of Philip Warner. A word with the gaoler and they came towards him.

'Well, Edward,' Philip said. 'Would you not say he is at last where he belongs, behind bars?'

'Oh, indeed, Philip,' Chester agreed. 'The whole island seems a safer place.'

But Kit was determined to keep his temper this day. 'Good morning to you, Philip,' he said. 'I never had an opportunity to congratulate you on your fortunate verdict.'

'By God, sir,' Philip declared. 'But you are a cool rogue. Nevertheless, we shall see how long your humour survives this gaol.'

'I have no doubt it will survive my release,' Kit said. 'I have already despatched a message to Mr Walker, requesting him to take out a writ of habeas corpus.'

'Indeed you have,' Philip agreed. 'He showed me it not an hour gone.'

'Showed it to you?' Kit asked, frowning as a sudden alarm gripped at his belly.

'And should he not?' Philip inquired. 'Alas, I doubt it will be possible for him immediately to act on your behalf, Kit. Mr Walker, being the only attorney on the island, is most uncommonly busy. Oh, yes, indeed, he has not a moment to call his own. Of course he has no intention of abandoning so valuable a client as yourself. He has placed your name on his list, and hopes to be able to attend to you just as soon as he is able; certainly within a twelvemonth.'

'Within a twelvemonth?' Kit asked, slowly.

'But then, you see, Kit,' Philip explained. 'It will be at least a twelvemonth before the case against you is prepared and ready. There are witnesses to be interrogated, and briefs to be prepared, and I do not see how it is possible for a mere magistrate to hear a charge of murder against so illustrious a personage as yourself. But alas, you see, Kit, we lack a governor at this moment. For which sad state of affairs you have no one but yourself to hold responsible. Worse, it seems we even lack a governor in St Kitts. So you will have to wait. But let me give you a word of advice, from the depths of my experience, lad. Do not despair. Eat sparingly, take regular exercise, and all will be well. Why, man, I spent all but a year in prison, awaiting trial. And near two months of that time was upon the sea, coming and going. I doubt there can be a worse fate than that, sir. And look at me. I have survived, and am as hale and hearty as ever before in my life, and believe me, sir, to my regret, I lack the sustenance of your youth.'

'By God,' Kit said. 'You but seek to avenge yourself upon me for your own misfortunes.'

'Indeed not, sir. You did kill a man.'

'In self-defence.'

'Your story, Kit. And if I may say so, it is no more than natural that you should insist upon it. But there are witnesses, including your own wife, against you. Now she may not testify, but the overseers were there, full half a dozen of them. And their tale is sadly different.'

'By God, sir,' Kit said. 'You have it all decided to your satisfaction, no doubt. Yet there is still justice in this world. The Queen's Majesty is still represented here in Antigua, and I will seek my freedom at that door. I will set my case before Mr Trumbull in his capacity as Speaker of the House.'

Philip Warner continued to smile. 'You are indeed entitled to set your case before the Speaker, Kit, as he is charged with preserving the Queen's authority in this island pending the arrival of a new governor. But you would waste your time to approach Mr Trumbull. Had you attended the Chamber more often you would be aware that he has long desired to lay down his burden, and has in fact now done so, a suitable replacement having been discovered.'

'A suitable replacement?' Kit demanded. But now the weights in his belly were more than he could bear.

'Indeed, sir,' Chester put in, 'by unanimous vote of the Assembly, we have elected Colonel Warner to the vacant speakership, there surely being no gentleman more deserving of the honour, both on account of his past services to the community, and the past suffering he has undergone on behalf of the community.'

'So, now, Kit,' Philip said. 'You may put your case before me. Or have you, indeed, just done so?'

12

The Challenge

'A visitor to see you,' said Jacks the gaoler.

Kit scrambled to his feet, and the drunk retreated to the far end of the cell.

Jacks grinned at him, safe on the outside of the bars. 'Oh, you've not been forgotten, Captain Hilton. Not a man like you.'

Desperately Kit straightened his clothes; they would have stood up by themselves, he had no doubt, so soaked were they with sweat and dirt. And with equal desperation he thrust his fingers through his hair, and even scraped at the fortnight old beard. Because it surely had to be ... Barnee?

'Captain Hilton,' the tailor said. 'By Christ, what have they done to you?'

'Why, they have done nothing to me,' Kit said. 'Save confine me in this filthy hole. I am allowed into the yard for half an hour every morning. And I am fed twice a day. I suppose you would call it food. And for the rest, I am ignored. But I have constantly changing company, so I am never bored.'

Barnee glanced at the drunk. 'Nobody could blame you for being bitter, Captain. I'd have come sooner, had I supposed it wise. But now, why, the tumult has all but died away.'

'Then they will bring me to trial?'

Barnee sighed. 'Somehow, sir, I doubt that is their purpose.' He frowned at Kit's clothes. 'Such a tragedy. Why, do you know I spent three weeks on those breeches?'

Kit grasped the bars. 'What do you mean, Barnee? Have no papers been prepared against me?'

Barnee shook his head. 'Not to my knowledge, sir.'

'By God,' Kit said. 'But my wife, has she not been after the matter?'

'Mrs Hilton has not been seen in St John's, sir, since the night she and the Colonel returned in triumph.' 'Not seen? The devil. Two weeks?'

'Indeed, sir. Nor has there been any entertainment in Green Grove in that time. There are rumours, certainly. To the effect that she regrets her quarrel with you, and is ashamed of the outcome, or even that she regrets what happened to Miss Christianssen. And then her overseers say she is unwell, and spends much time in her room, visits the canefields but occasionally, and then heavily veiled as if she had been weeping.'

'I doubt that, somehow,' Kit said. 'But Lilian, Barnee. You spoke of Lilian. What news of her?'

'Now that is why I came, Captain.'

'And you have dawdled these last ten minutes? Speak up, man.'

'She is well, sir. At least, she is much better.' 'Her mother is still with her?'

'Better than that, sir. She is with her mother and father.' 'Here in town?'

'Indeed, sir. It was my fortune to play the part of mediator between them, and now she is in good hands, and indeed, asks of you continuously.'

'But ... what of her condition? The shame of it?'

'Oh, well, sir, we brought her into St John's privily, and she remains indoors of a day, only occasionally venturing out after dark to enjoy the breeze. Her hair is not yet grown, you understand, nor is her complexion clear. Indeed, I fear it may be some time before she will again be the girl you remember, Captain. But it will be.'

'You have seen her?'

'In a manner of speaking, sir. She wears a hooded cloak, and a veil, when in company.'

'But what of her manner? Her spirits?'

'Ah, well, sir, there is more of a problem for those who love her. You will know that she was always a solemn girl, sir, given to quiet thought. That side of her character now entirely dominates. She does not smile, and she speaks seldom. Indeed, she gives the impression of a woman wrestling with some deep, and possibly irremediable, problem.'

'And would you not be similarly downcast, had you suffered but a tithe of what she suffered?' Kit demanded. 'That I should be here, behind bars, while she is in such despair ... I sometimes feel like taking that gaoler by the neck and choking the life from his body. It were an easy thing.'

'And then would you truly be hanged, Captain,' Barnee pointed out. 'No, no, sir. Patience is the key to your problem. I have said, I do not believe they mean to bring matters to a trial. For one thing it could set a dangerous precedent, should a planter be tried for the death of an employee; God knows that is not such an uncommon occurrence. And for another, I believe the answer rests with your wife, and I cannot believe, despite all that has passed between you, that she hates you to that extent. It is she who is paying for your keep here.'

'And for that I must be grateful?' Kit asked. 'She will know better than ever to let me come near her again. For, by God, I will finish what I began.'

'No doubt, sir,' Barnee said soothingly. 'But I would again beg of you, be patient. The gossips have it that a new governor has been appointed for the Leewards, and he could already be on his way here. There is an end to your problem, surely, as he will bring the approbation of Her Majesty, and 'tis well known that she is displeased with the attitude of the planters in favour of Colonel Warner.'

'Aye,' Kit agreed. 'Yet much will depend on the character of the man himself. It will take no little resolution to oppose so unitedly stiff-necked a body. Have you no word of his name?'

'None, sir,' Barnee said. 'Yet am I convinced that his arrival cannot but mean a speedy end to your imprisonment. Now I must be away.'

'You'll take a message for Lilian,' Kit said. 'Tell her that I love her, now and always. Tell her that she shall be avenged, this I swear. Convince her, Barnee, that this is but a brief episode in our lives. She must be sure of that.'

'She is, Captain. Of that I am certain. Yet will I give her your words, of course.'

'And you'll come again, Barnee? This place is almighty tedious.'

'I will come again, Captain. And until then, take care.'

Take care. Of what, he wondered. Of his safety? That was well looked after. The other inmates, all transients, feared him and shunned him as if he suffered from the plague. Of his appearance? There was an impossible task. He possessed no mirror, and could only judge on feel, and smell. Thus his hair and his beard both grew, untidily and dirtily, and the dirt accumulated beneath his fingernails as the sweat accumulated throughout his body to give him an extra skin, he thought. As for his clothing, that surely was beyond recall, as he slept in his suit, lived in it, took his scanty exercise in it. Of his health, then? Oh, he would take care of his health, in so far as it was possible. The first meal after Barnee's departure he had almost rejected. Marguerite's money? But then it had occurred to him that if she meant to keep him alive it would be foolish of him to reject that. She fought in her way, and he must fight in his, counting upon the ultimate victory.

Of his mind? Here was the true nub of the matter. To sit in a noisome, over-heated cell, minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, week after week, and even month after month was surely more than man had been intended to suffer. Certainly a man like Kit Hilton, to whom the sea and the sky and the breeze on his face were a large part of what was worth possessing. Not to know what was happening, what Marguerite was doing and planning, tucked away behind the protection of her cane-filled acres and her scent-filled house, what Philip Warner was saying and doing, in the House of Assembly, and what Lilian was suffering and feeling. To know that she was just down the street, in fact, and yet as distant as if she had been on another planet, was the bitterest thought of all.

Perhaps, then, his sanity depended on Barnee. For the tailor came every week with what news he could glean, of John Benbow's death, but strangely of no new depredations by DuCasse, of the execution of two of Benbow's captains for cowardice in the battle of Santa Marta, of the successes of the Anglo-Dutch army in Europe, where the Duke of Marlborough was making his reputation, of the soaring price of sugar, and of more domestic matters, too.

Philip Warner had resigned the Speakership. He had, in fact, but taken the post in acknowledgment of the planters' wish, and to complete his triumph. But age and infirmity were making it less easy for him to get about, and impossible for him to sustain the burden of hours of debate in the Chamber.

'Now there is good news, at the least,' Kit said. 'Surely his successor can hardly be so opposed to my interest.'

'You think so, Captain?' Barnee asked sorrowfully.

'It cannot be John Harding?'

'No, indeed, Captain. From your point of view it is worse. The new Speaker is Colonel Warner's nominee, as you may suppose; Edward Chester.'

Chester, by God. Dear Edward. Possibly the one man in Antigua who hated Kit more than the Colonel himself.

But the change in the speakership had no effect upon his imprisonment. Because he was here on the orders of the mistress of Green Grove, and he would stay here, no matter what the men might say or wish or do, until the mistress of Green Grove chose to hang him or release him. What had she boasted when first they had met and loved? That she was at once the wealthiest, the most beautiful, and the most powerful woman in the Leewards. Easy words to say. And yet how true.

But Barnee was also able to reassure him about Lilian. Her health improved every day, and her hair was grown. She looked as she had always done, apparently. But what of her mind? There was a cause for concern. She seldom spoke and never laughed. She sent her love by every message, but would not venture into the street. How deep must be the degradation of what had happened bitten into that delicate, reserved mind.

It was time to draw on the past. For what indeed, was the value of the past, if not to bolster the future. Time then to remember the endless horror of Hispaniola. He had never doubted then that he would survive. Untrue. He had doubted. After Bart Le Grand's matelot had been stuck like a pig, and had died squealing like a pig, then he had despaired. And been rescued, by Jean and by Bart himself.

Well, then, what of the march across Panama, spurred on always by that heroic villain Morgan? But always then an early end had been in sight. This was more akin to that long year on the beach at Port Royal, when he had been sustained only by the energy of Agrippa. Another who had suffered on his behalf, and died, on his behalf.

Agrippa. So much had happened since that dreadful night of his return from Barbados, the fact of his friend's death had scarcely penetrated his understanding. And he could offer nothing more than revenge, if that were ever possible. But he had never been very effective at vengeance. He had always looked to the future rather than the past. Even in Jamaica, he had never doubted that he would eventually be lifted from his despair.

As he had been, by Daniel Parke. A blessing, or a curse? Oh, surely, no matter what had happened since, a blessing, which had brought him Marguerite, and more of life than he had ever dreamed to be possible, for ten splendid years before their world had fallen apart, and which had eventually brought him Lilian, still there, could she but be reached.

Daniel Parke. He listened to the salute of guns from the fort, billowing forth noise to welcome the new governor, and to the name which suddenly seemed to spread on the wind. He clung to the bars, and gazed at the corridor and the distant office, unable to see the door to the street, unable to hear distinctly, aware only that his heart was pounding fit to burst. It was incredible, but it was true. Because there he was, wearing a gold satin coat over a silver waistcoat, face heavy with good living, and yet lacking none of its old arrogance and contempt, lips pouted a trifle petulantly, but eyes brilliantly embracing as ever, speech and manner unchangingly peremptory. He stood in the office and gazed at the prisoner, and his colour seemed to darken.

'By God,' he said. 'By God, sir. I could not credit my ears. By God, sirs, but there will be atonement for this.'

So then, what can be the greatest pleasure known to man? To sit in a hot bath, after so very long, having been shaved and knowing that the best in food and drink awaits only a decision to leave the embracing warmth. And to be in the company of a friend. And what a friend.

'My head swings,' he said. 'I doubt not that I am dreaming.'

Parke sat in a chair, and sipped a glass of wine. He had removed his coat and his wig, and vet looked hot. He had indeed put on a great deal of weight in fifteen years.

'Then awake,' he commanded. 'For be sure that I have need of you, Kit.'

'And be sure, Dan, that you will have but to look in my direction, starting from now, and my body, my sword, my pistols and my brains will be at your service. What, raise a man from the dungheap once in a life time? There was a reason for undying gratitude, to be sure. But raise him twice ... why, that puts you beyond the attainment of any service I might perform.'

Parke frowned at him for several seconds. And then smiled. And there, at the least, nothing had changed. The flash of white teeth was as winning as ever in the past. 'Now take care what you promise, Kit. For be sure I shall call upon you. There is much we must do.'

'Indeed there is,' Kit said. 'If I could but understand how you come to be here, and in such splendour, and blessed with such power ... I tell you, it must be a dream.'

'Dreams are not very different to nightmares.' Parke got up, paced the room, arming himself with his cane and flashing at imaginary foes as he talked. 'I doubt my life has been less chequered than yours, Kit, since last we met. And believe me, I am fully aware of the ups and downs of your own career. So you married the fabulous Mistress Templeton. My congratulations, sir. Although had you asked my opinion I should have advised against it, even so long ago. And would I not have been right?'

Kit sighed. 'She is perhaps, too much for any one man. Yet is she the mother of my children.'

'All. I too have a wife, and children. At least, a daughter. The most beautiful creature you could ever see, Kit. But I have not seen her in five years.'

'There is some tragedy here,' Kit said.

'In a manner of speaking, only. You know my pleasure in cards and dice. Believe me when I say, Kit, I understand that to be a curse. Look at me, and see a man who had all Virginia at his feet. When my father died, and I inherited his plantations, there was no buck to stand beside me. And so, like you, dear friend, I married the best woman going. And I fathered her daughter, and I lived, and loved, out as well as in, for what gentleman will not, and I played, as my fancy took me. And you know full well, friend, that I cared not whether I won or lost, for the stake. I would as soon take my winnings and throw them to the poor. But the winning of it. The triumph. The looks of dismay on the losers' faces.'

He paused in his perambulation, and his fingers curled into a fist, held in front of his face, as if he was crushing the very air. 'There was my pleasure, Kit. There was my joy.'

'And so you cheated,' Kit said.

Parke glanced at him, and the fingers slowly relaxed. 'I do not enjoy losing. I have never enjoyed losing. I have no intention of ever losing. What, are my opponents not equally capable of cheating? A man must be prepared for all things. I am ready to back my fancies with my sword or my pistols. But the devil was highly placed, a friend of my wife's family, and influential.'

'You killed a man over cards?'

'And have you never killed a man in anger? They wished to bring me to trial. And who knows what would have happened, Kit. I might have been hanged, for it turned out that the fool, as he challenged me, and made some sort of movement for his pockets, carried no weapon. Yet he was drunk, as indeed was I, and how could I wait to be murdered myself? He might have had a knife, a pistol, anything.'

'Good God,' Kit said. 'And you stand before me, Governor of the Leewards?'

'I am not so easily brought low. When I learned what they were about, as if every gentleman who picks up a pack of cards does not equally pick up his life at the same time ... 'tis understood by all. 'Tis only the priesthood and the little men who seek to snipe at us. Well. I'd not risk myself in their power, as you did and to your cost. There was a ship in the harbour, bound that night for England. I boarded her.'

'You fled Virginia?'

'At the time it was best. I have not finished with them yet. by God. They have not seen the last of Daniel Parke.'

'But how did you make your way in England?' Kit wondered. 'Had you friends there? Influence?'

'None, sir,' Parke cried triumphantly. 'Not a soul knew of my very existence. Yet am I not a man, sir? With blood in my

veins and temper in my steel? I took service with the great Duke.’

'Marlborough?'

'Who else? One should serve only the best. I offered him my sword and my brains, and I am not bereft of military experience. There are savage Indians on the borders of Virginia no less than in Dominica, I'll have you know. I have conducted a campaign against them, and successfully. And with no smell of treachery about it either. Churchill was sufficiently glad to have my prowess at his side. I rode with him on the march down the Rhine. I was at his shoulder at Blenheim. Now there, Kit, did I witness warfare on a scale I had not supposed possible. I forget, you were at Panama. But even Panama can have been nothing, compared with a European battle, especially one as fought by Marlborough. More than a hundred thousand men opposed to each other, red coats and blue, green coats and white, rolling clouds of black smoke from the cannon, the unceasing fusillades, the cries of the victor and the screams of the vanquished. I tell you, that day I felt I stood on Olympus.'

'For you were the victors.' Kit got out of his tub and towelled himself.

'Aye. And more. When my lord of Marlborough surveyed the scene, and knew his triumph, he resolved that the news of it must be got back to London with the earliest possible despatch. And he called me for that deed, as he possessed no better horseman on his staff. I rode like the wind, Kit, bearing two letters, one to the Duchess, and the other to Her Majesty herself. I was admitted to her own privy chamber, Kit. There was the sum of my triumph.'

'By God,' Kit said. 'You have spoken with the Queen?'

'I have kissed her hand, Kit, and been bidden to rise. And do you know what she asked of the Duchess? "Why, madam," she said, "can all your husband's officers be as handsome as this gentleman? Indeed I understand now why no one can stand before him." And then she laughed, and talked with me some more, and told me, as I bore the gladdest tidings ever to enter London since the bells rang upon the defeat of the Spanish Armada, why, I had but to ask of her, and it would be granted to me.'

'And you wished the Governorship of the Leewards?' Kit asked in amazement.

Once again Parke checked his perambulation, and turned to face his friend. And now the humour, the excitement, had gone from his face. 'No,' he said. 'No, I did not wish for the Governorship of the Leewards. These are magnificent islands, Kit. And I would have given much, even then, to see your face again, and enjoy a glass of punch in your company. But they are not yet my home. Nor did I ever suppose they would be. I meant to return to my home, in triumph. Then would I have taken those ruffians by the ears. And it was granted to me, Kit. By Her Majesty herself. It was there, and mine.'

'Virginia?'

'Nothing less. But this woman who rules our destinies, she is naught but a cipher. She does what she is told, by her women, by the Duchess most of all, by her ministers. Ask, she had said, and you shall have. I asked, and was given. And yet recalled to her presence before I had properly finished celebrating, to be told the Governorship of Virginia was already in the possession of someone else, and could not presently be removed from his care. Oh, those courtiers, clamouring about her ears, whispering that I was not to be trusted with such a post, with such a past.'

'But ...'

'But they knew my worth, Kit. Her Majesty sought to soften the blow. "Yet," she said, "you shall have your colonial governorship, Colonel Parke, and one where your own special talents can best be put to my service. What of the Leewards?" she asked. "I have been told you know them, and their people. Then you will know," she said, "that they are an independent-minded lot of rascals, who pay small attention to our wishes here in London, and who have recently had the effrontery to choose a Speaker of their Assembly in a man of whom I hear nothing but ill-repute. There is defiance," she said. "And I know more, that they have a long history of smuggling and piracy and downright criminal activities. There is a position more fitted to your temper, Colonel Parke," she said.'

'It could be that she was right, Dan. 'Tis certain these islands need a strong hand. Even Stapleton was perhaps not sufficiently capable of dealing with the plantocracy. They know their wealth, and the power it bestows. They conceive Antigua, at the least, no less a place than England itself, save in size.'

'Oh, she was right,' Parke said. 'There can be no doubt about that. And more, you are now right. Which is why I am here, in St John's, and not setting up my standard in Sandy Point. The centre of the Leewards is in Antigua, and the centre of the intransigent spirits is right here as well. I shall show them the quality of my blood, you may be sure of that. But I shall need men I can trust about me, Kit. Men like you. And you, like me, have a score to settle.'

'Indeed I have,' Kit agreed, frowning. 'Yet I doubt that a spirit of vengeance is the best in which to undertake to rule a people.'

'Ah, you were always nine-tenths of a Quaker, which is why your true interest always lay in the direction of that Danish beauty. She waits to see you now.'

'Lilian? Here?' Kit dragged at his clothes.

'Easy, Kit. Easy.'

'You do not understand. It has been all but a year, and in that time I have not seen her. More, she has not left her father's house, except privily, and at night. I do believe that you are jesting.'

Parke smiled. 'I never jest, about women, Kit. She has obeyed the summons of her Governor, and gladly. But before you go rushing off to her soft arms, we must finish our discussion. I need you, Kit. Will you serve me?'

'I am distressed you find it necessary to ask again, old friend.' Kit buttoned his shirt.

'Then understand what you do. I have commanded a fast revenue cutter to be built, and the work is already in hand. There is an old saw, is there not, set a thief to catch a thief? I remember how well you commanded the Bonaventure, and how with your skill and speed and a few sharp teeth you evaded all attempts at capture by that clumsy frigate. I shall put a stop to the smuggling, Kit, by using a similar sort of vessel. All I need is a man who will sail her, and fight her, if need be, as ruthlessly as I would myself. Do I possess such a man?'

A ship, at last. And to be used for striking at Chester. 'Aye, Dan,' Kit said. 'You have such a man.'

'Then am I content. But listen to me carefully, Kit. You and I, we shall bring these proud planters to heel. But it must be done by the strictest adherence to legality and the wishes of the Queen. This point I must make before you offer Lilian any promises you will not be able to honour. You hate these petty upstarts, and perhaps one or two in particular. But you will fight no duels, and you will make no visits to Green Grove, sword in hand.'

'You cannot have heard the full story of that affair.'

'Believe me, Kit. I have heard the full story of that affair. Marguerite is your wife, and a wife's jealousy commands respect everywhere. And you did kill a man. Oh, I have no doubt he died with a sword in his hand, yet where Kit Hilton is concerned that is too close to murder. And should we reduce matters to a straight choice, these people may become desperate. No, no. You know, and I know, that these creatures are sufficiently criminal for us to bring them down without resort to personalities. They smuggle, and that is against the law. I put that in your charge. Hale me a planter to court on a proven charge of smuggling, and by God I will fine him all of next year's crop. I know, and you know, that they habitually talk treason. That will be my charge. And the answer there, once proven, is the gallows. Let those be our two objectives, undertaken with the consent, nay, with the blessing—why, what rubbish do I speak—undertaken at the express command of Her Majesty. "Bring them to heel, Mr Parke," she said. And smiled.' Parke smiled.

And Kit stared at him. There could be no doubting his intention. For where Kit's hatred was all anger, to be expiated in a blow, he understood that he was here witnessing a cold and deep-seated venom, not to be alleviated either by success or pleas for mercy, supposing any planter would ever bring himself to that. And inspired entirely because he could not at this moment reach those he really hated. There was a terrifying thought.

'I will let the matter drop, for the time,' he said.

'Spoken like my old friend. Then I have one last charge for you. As I intend to make St John's my headquarters, and I cannot spend the rest of my term of office in these scurvy rented quarters, I mean to build a new residence for the Governor, on that hill outside the town, overlooking it and the harbour and the sea beyond. An eyrie for an eagle, Kit. That will be your first responsibility, as you know the people here, and your ship is not yet commissioned. Build it high, and build it strong. You know the planters' houses. Eclipse them. Fear not the expense; they will be paying for it in their taxes. And build yourself a wing. Your best protection against careless challenges is the certainty that you and I walk shoulder to shoulder all the while.'

There was a knock on the door. Parke glanced at Kit to make sure he was dressed, and then called, 'Enter.'

The Negro servant bowed. 'Begging your pardon, Your Excellency, but there is a lady to see you.'

'A lady?' Parke frowned.

'Lilian,' Kit said, making for the door.

'Easy, Kit. She has been here this past hour, and patiently awaits your presence. Who is this lady, Jonathan?'

'Mistress Chester, Your Excellency. She is the wife of the Speaker of the House, and calls to bid Your Excellency welcome to Antigua.'

'By God,' Parke said. 'Mary Chester. Why, when last I was here she was just wed, a child of sixteen.'

'She scarcely seems more than that now,' Kit said. 'Despite the high office her husband has attained.'

'Indeed?' Parke demanded. 'Well, well. And she has come to call. As indeed she must, as her husband is Speaker. I must greet the lady, obviously. You'll excuse me, Kit. Jonathan, you will return here immediately, and show Captain Hilton to the chamber where Miss Christianssen waits for him.' He went to the door, looked over his shoulder, and raised his glass. 'To our mutual success, dearest Kit.'

'Tread carefully, I beg of you, sir,' said Wolff the engineer. 'The seed is but freshly laid. But in a month there will be a lawn, stretching from the patio, here, right across to that bluff. Is that not splendid?' He had short legs, and scurried in front of Kit as they crossed the freshly smoothed ground.

Fifty yards from the patio the rocks and earth had been hewn sheer, to make a drop of some twelve feet to the land below, thus creating a glacis on this side. Truly was Daniel building a fortress, Kit thought. The only breach in these defences was the great tree-lined drive running up the side of the hill, and mounting the man-made terrace through a sloped escarpment.

He turned, looked back at the house, already roofed and gleaming with paint. And Lilian, waiting for them in the trap beneath the shade of the great trees which fringed the drive, while the horses plucked foliage from the bushes at the side of the road.

'A splendid sight, is it not?' Wolff was still looking down at the town. 'A commanding eminence, fit for the ruler. Oh, yes, 'twas well chosen.' He discovered Kit already on his way back, panted as he caught up. 'It has been said the verandahs are too deep, Captain. But a house needs deep verandahs, in these climes, to trap the breeze. And what think you of my doors, eh? Three inches thick, Captain. They'll catch a cannonball. You'll see that I have left a good twenty feet between the kitchens and the house itself, although my covered passageway will make sure the Governor's food does not get rained upon. No house of mine will ever be destroyed by fire from within.'

'An admirable concept,' Kit agreed. 'Perhaps you should also build a covered passageway from the barracks, to keep the guard dry into the bargain.'

'Now there is a plan, sir. I will see to it immediately.'

'Then I shall leave you to your duties.' Kit walked beneath the trees, got into the trap. 'What do you think of it, sweetheart?'

'It is a beautiful spot, Kit,' Lilian answered. 'I remember when I was a girl, how I used to walk up this hill, and lie on the grass over there, and look down on the town, and the harbour.'

'And think, about what?'

She glanced at him, and then away again. 'I do not remember thinking at all, Kit. It was just sufficient to lie on the warm glass, and feel at peace.'

And do you think, now, he wanted to ask her? There were so many things he wanted to say, and to do, and ask. Looking at her, seated in the trap, wearing a light muslin gown in pale green, and her favourite broad-brimmed hat, with her fine hair loose and floating in the faint breeze, with every last blemish gone from her complexion, it was impossible to suppose that anything so tragic, so disgusting, as that night had ever happened to her. Yet it lay between them like a brick wall. She was the same woman he had always known, and always loved. With but a solitary difference. For whereas before, when not talking, or smiling, or loving, she had revealed a continual interest in what was going on around her, now, when he left her to herself for but a moment, her gaze and clearly her mind returned into some private sanctuary of its own.

He could gain no inkling of what thoughts she sought in that privacy. Did she give way to hatred of Marguerite, to thinking of the wildest and most hideous ways of revenge? Or did she surrender to a memory of the brutality and obscenity to which she had been subjected? Or did she remember her feelings when she had lain, naked and debased, in the centre of St John's, waiting to be discovered?

These were bad. But there were possibilities which were worse. For did she, in that privacy, blame him for his failure? He had failed so very often, by setting off in anger and haste, bent on doing only what seemed to him to be necessary at the moment. Or then again, did she merely retreat into a world of despair, a world of which she could not help but be continually conscious, for if there was no man dare offer her an insult or even a smile, while she walked by Kit Hilton's side or was so clearly under the Governor's protection, yet was there not a man who did not turn to stare after her, imagining, or worse, remembering. And the women, who feared no physical interference with their pleasures, were more openly interested in her survival, the brazenness, as they regarded it, of her existence, the effrontery of her apparent triumph.

And yet she accepted his embraces, with the same shy reserve which so suddenly blossomed into passion. Whenever he could find an opportunity to embrace her. By tacit agreement she had remained these two months in her father's house. But now the Governor's new residence was all but completed ...

'You have inspected our apartments?' he asked.

'Indeed I have. And I congratulate Mr Wolff.'

'I have already done so. What I meant was, will you be pleased to take your place in them?'

'I will be pleased, Kit, if that is what you wish.' 'Believe me,' he said. 'I wish it could be different." She continued to gaze at him.

'But as it cannot,' he went on, 'and as I must leave you from time to time, if I am to give my support to Daniel, I could not contemplate abandoning you anywhere else but under his protection.'

'And I shall be safe, under his protection,' she said, half to herself.

Kit flicked the whip. The horse turned and the trap made its way slowly down the hill. It was the middle of the afternoon, and the heat was intense. 'I suspect that you do not much care for our Governor,' he suggested. To have her speaking, about anything, would be a blessing.

'I am sure my feelings are irrelevant,' she said.

'They are most relevant to me, sweetheart.'

'Well, then, I will say that he is a good friend, Kit. I think he must be about the best friend that a man could have.'

'The best friend that ever this man could have, certainly,' Kit agreed.

'And yet, he is not a good man,' she said.

Kit frowned. 'I do not understand you. So he killed a man over a card game. I have killed at least a dozen. Am I then a very bad man?'

'You, I would describe as a good man, Kit,' she said. 'The crime is surely not so relevant as the thought, the emotion, the ambition which inspired it. Mr Parke is a man who seeks to kill, in some form or other, whether it be by sword or by word. He seeks the contest, continually, like some wild bull, galloping round and round his herd, daring another male to look him in the eye, daring any female not to beckon him with hers. Life without contest, without challenge, and without victory, is for him stale and uninteresting.'

'Now that is remarkable,' Kit said. 'Marguerite used similar words of him, oh, a very long time ago.' He bit his lip in anger. How easily words slipped out.

'Like me, I think, your wife is a good judge of character,' Lilian said.

'My wife,' he shouted, dragging on the reins. 'My God, what meaning you put into that. Lilian ...' 'I would not speak of her, yet, Kit.' 'But it must be done.'

'Please,' she said softly. 'I made a mistake, once. All of my life, I think. I wished only to yield, as a young girl, to a man of whom I dreamed, a formless creature, yet one I never doubted would appear. And then I met you and my dream became reality. Yet still the decision was only to yield. I sought to escape the brunt of life, by belonging. I had not realized that no human being can, or dare, escape the brunt of life. Hear me out, please. In this business you are but the bridge between two spirits, Kit. Even you are no more than that. Yielding, as I thought, I yet put out a mortal challenge to your wife. I thought no more of it, then. I said to myself, it is between Kit and Marguerite, and if he now loves me and not her, then I am content, no matter what sin we commit. Yet how wrong I was. It was never between you and Marguerite. It was ever between Marguerite and me. So she reacted, with the passion and violence which is the part of her character, and, I suspect, first made you fall in love with her. Can I quarrel with her for revealing her true self in such a situation? Would I have acted differently, granted her wealth and position and upbringing? Do you know, I encourage myself with the thought that I would have been more straight with my rival. I would not have had the deed done by stealth, at night, when I was a thousand miles distant. I would have faced her, even had I ordered others to do the deed. But there is flattery, if you like, of myself. I lack her wealth and position, and thus I do not know for sure how I would truly have acted.'

She took his hand between hers. 'And then you returned, and rode forth to avenge me, like the man you are. I did not wish to stop you, then. I did not know what I wished, then. I wished only to lie down beneath the weight which oppressed me. Sometimes I wished for death itself. Yet would I not take my own life. Perhaps because of my beliefs. Perhaps because I am a coward. And when I would again flatter myself. I say perhaps because I have more strength than that. But when you failed, and were incarcerated in that dreadful prison, then

I perforce had to consider the matter in a more sober light, and I realized that even had you succeeded, had you dragged Marguerite into town and forced her to scream an apology at the top of her lungs, and had you arraigned the murderers of Agrippa and had them hanged, yet would I still be an object of contempt and pity. No one could blame Marguerite for crumbling before the assault of Kit Hilton. But who would ever take the side of a husband-stealer?'

'Then are we doubly damned,' Kit said. 'As I failed in my mission.'

'I doubt that anyone blames you for that, either, for there cannot be a man in Antigua but knows that you acted as he would have done in similar circumstances.'

'Faith, I wish I understood more of human nature.'

'It is not so very difficult to understand,' she said. 'We had best be getting home.'

He flicked the whip, and the trap rolled into town. 'Then where is your solution to our problem, as you have thought so deeply on the matter?'

She sighed. 'I wish I knew. I only know that the solution must be mine, Kit, not yours. So I beg of you, do nothing rash.'

'I have already promised Daniel that, and felt heartily ashamed for it.' He drew rein before the General Store. 'May I come in with you?'

She shook her head. 'It would be better not.'

'Another thing I can hardly understand. Tell me, does your father speak with you in his own home?'

'Seldom. He is as bewildered by events as I.'

'Bewildered. By God, there is an odd emotion.'

'Do you think so? He is a man of great discipline, over himself, and over those who would work with him or live with him. He brought me up in that mould, as he has ever lived with Mama in that mould. Now he no longer recognizes me, and he cannot understand how Mama will care for such an outcast.' She smiled, a sufficiently rare sight nowadays. 'But then, I scarce recognize myself. Can you imagine, Kit, how many pairs of eyes are at this moment watching us, hidden behind their shutters? Antigua has had no such source of scandal since Edward Warner's wife was kidnapped by the Indians, with all that must have entailed, and yet returned here to rule over them. So must I be less of a woman than she?' She leaned forward, kissed him on the lips. 'That will keep their dinner conversation flowing agreeably.' She squeezed his hand as she stepped down.

'Tomorrow at one,' he said.

'Tomorrow at one, Kit.' She went inside.

He flicked the whip and the trap covered the few yards to the Governor's temporary residence. How strange indeed were the patterns life took up. He had wooed her in a fit of drunken passion, and taken her off to be his mistress with heroic violence. And now he was back to courting her like any timid young man, barred from her door by her father's disapproval.

But this time he would do it her way, because he must. And because he wanted to. This time there was no need to fear any sudden cessation in their affairs.

And indeed he had thought of nothing else since his release from prison. Yet so many other things clamoured for his consideration. Marguerite remained an overwhelming factor. Lilian spoke of her own humiliation, and of her inability to deal with it. But he had also been brought low, by the determined animosity of that remarkable woman. And even had he been able to erase her entirely from his mind and his memory, there remained always Tony and Rebecca. He had not seen them for more than a year. What had been told them of their father, he wondered. What did they think of their father? Or did they think of him at all? And did he have any rights, where they were concerned?

And, looking at the larger canvas, there was the certainty of troubled times ahead, which also he was reluctant to consider. For Daniel had wasted no time in letting the planters know where they stood. In his speech to the Assembly, which tradition demanded of a new Governor, he had all but called them rogues and traitors to their faces, had declared his firm intention of governing the colony as a colony, had used the phrase, 'I will bring the malcontents to heel,' and had left them gaping in impotent indignation. Edward Chester's face had gone as red as his hair, and he had stared around the room, making sure of his support, and then up at the gallery, identifying his enemies. And flushing to a yet darker hue on discovering Kit. So, what would be the planters' remedy for the predicament in which they now found themselves? Why, a simple one. They had refused to vote any money, not only for the necessary purposes of government, but also for the building of Government House.

Yet was the island governed, and the house all but built. The captains of the ships which brought mahogany from the Mosquito Coast, no less than those which brought fine cloths and fine wines from Europe, no less than Wolff himself, with every slave he possessed working on the site, accepted Daniel Parke's notes without question. They could, in fact, do nothing less, but obviously they also had no doubt that when there eventually was a reckoning, they would have to receive their money; the planters' crops were sold in England, and their London agents handled all deductions, for goods or taxes. No City merchant was going to quarrel with Whitehall on account of a few angry Antiguans. As for the very few civil servants required—amongst whom, Kit realized, he must now number himself—or the soldiers of the garrison, they were well used to their pay being a year and more in arrears.

He trotted the horses beneath the archway, and threw the reins to one of the Negro servants waiting there. He took off his hat and entered by the side door, mounting the inside staircase to the shaded gallery which ran round the seaward side of the house, pausing to marvel at the quiet. St John's in mid-afternoon was like a town of the dead.

He climbed the great staircase to the upper gallery, unbuttoning his coat, and heard a giggle of laughter. He stopped, his heart seeming to climb very slowly into his throat, for he was sure he could recognize the voice. He approached the door, it led to one of the guest bedrooms, and stopped again. Now all was silent once more. Yet had he heard the sound, and he could not believe his ears. He rested his hand on the door knob, hesitated for a moment, and then twisted it and threw the door inwards in the same instant.

Daniel Parke gave a startled exclamation as he sat up, instinctively reaching for the pistol which waited by his bed. The woman beside him gave a shriek, and reached for the rumpled sheet to cover her nakedness, while Kit stared at her in total horror.

For he had indeed recognized that high-pitched giggle. The woman was Mary Chester.

'By God, Kit, but you are liable to die long before your allotted moment, if you persist in behaviour like that.' Daniel Parke slouched in his chair, his wig askew, his coat and vest unbuttoned. He had drunk better than two bottles of wine with his dinner.

'I doubt I will apologize again,' Kit said. 'For the deed, yes. For the motivation, hardly. The act was downright suicidal.'

'Bah.' Parke snapped his fingers, and the butler hastened forward with another bottle. 'Drink up.' He leaned his elbows on the table. 'I represent the Queen. True or false?'

'Oh, true, but ...'

'Therefore I am the Crown by proxy. True or false?' 'True, but

'Therefore it behoves me to act like a king. Name me a king who has lacked a mistress. One? What am I saying. Name me a king who has lacked a harem.'

'Charles I,' Kit said.

'And he got his head chopped off. In any event, as his father's harem consisted of boys, he was doubtless confused. Besides, Mary is what a man like me needs. God, how I need her. Oh, I understand other tastes. I recognize yours, for slender legs and waists which are nothing more than rib covers, and tits which can scarce tickle the palm of your hand. Mary, sweet Mary, is what I desire, Kit. There is nothing but flesh. Christ, man, to sink my face in those bubbies is to lose my awareness of the world beyond. To discover my whereabouts below that belly is to travel to unknown planes of delight.'

Kit sighed. 'I have no wish to discuss the lady's charms, Dan. Neither hers nor those of any woman. I but wish to remind you that she is Chester's wife.'

'And damned unhappy with her lot. I'll wager you did not know that.'

'Chester and I have not been particularly close these past two years.'

'Aye. Well, you can take it from me that he only seeks her bed to torment her. That often enough he uses his belt on those marvellous hams. By Christ, one day I will take his ugly face and thrust it down his throat.'

'Yet will you be in the wrong, before the law, and I had supposed that was your main concern.'

Parke glanced at him, frowned, and drank some more wine. 'Who's to know, may I ask? Or do you propose to print a broadsheet?'

'Do you suppose for an instant an affair of that nature can be kept privy, in St John's?'

'And why not, sir? We meet three times a week, in the middle of the afternoon. Had you not so unreasonably returned early you would have suspected nothing.'

'And her husband?'

'Like all husbands, suspects least of all. It is his custom to visit the Ice House every day before noon, as you are well aware, his plantation being so close to town, and there to drink himself nearly insensible. Add four glasses of port with his luncheon, and he is retired by one of the clock, in an absolute stupor from which he does not arise before five. Sweet Mary is always back in bed beside him by four, which allows us two hours of delicious tumbling.'

'With the wife of the man who must in any event lead the opposition to your measures. 'Tis utterly indefensible. For find out he will, Dan. I'll wager you that.'

'Then let him step forth as a cuckold. What, Chester challenge me? I'd pin his ears back for him.' Parke set down his glass and struggled to his feet. 'I must be away.'

'What now?' Kit demanded. 'Another lady? It is all but midnight.'

Parke grinned at him. 'Come.' He led the way, a trifle uncertainly, down the corridor to a downstairs sitting-room, and carefully locked the door. From a chest in the corner he pulled out a long black cloak, and a mask, made to look exactly like a human face, with a moustache and somewhat long nose, but not otherwise grotesque. 'I shall go for a walk.'

Kit scratched his head. 'Wearing that clown's garb?'

'This clown's garb is very suitable, Kit.' Parke stood before the mirror to adjust the mask and carry the cords behind his head. 'It needs a roomful of candles, such as we have here, and a close inspection, to tell that it is not flesh, and I will supply candles his face was seen to be ashen, and he panted. 'Dan?' Kit cried. 'Are you hurt?'

Parke shook his head, still gasping, and pulled himself up the stairs. 'Blinded, more like. Fetch me a drink.' He blinked at the crowd of servants. 'And get back to bed, God damn you. A drink. Rum.'

Fie reached the gallery, sat in a chair. Jonathan hurried forward with a glass.

'A shot, was it?' Kit said. 'I'll turn out the guard.'

'They are there already.' Parke drank deeply, and sighed. 'And I have sent them back again. We'll have no publicity.'

'But someone tried to kill you.'

'Aye,' Parke said. 'Someone. Lurking in the street, to aim at me as I emerged.'

'Knowing that you would emerge,' Kit said. 'I did not suppose your subterfuge would survive. This island is a quarter of the size of an English county, Dan. Can you suppose English Harbour does not know everything that happens in St John's, within the hour?'

'Aye,' Parke said. 'Maybe you were right. By God, assassinate me, would they?'

'Yet you'd not have the guard chase the fellow?'

'No.' Parke finished his drink and stood up. 'I know now where I stand. Where I had supposed I would always stand, Kit, eventually. Four-square to the devils. You'll be at my shoulder?'

'You have my word. My only concern is that you give them less opportunity, and I do not only now speak of bullets.'

'Words will cause me no harm,' Parke said. 'But by God, I will harm them. May the devil come for my soul, if I do not bring them down. Make no mistake about that.'

'Strange words, for a Governor,' Kit said, and stood, hands on hips, gazing at the house, into which furniture was being carried by gangs of Negro slaves. 'And look, he means what he says.' He pointed to where more Negroes were dragging a cannon into place beneath the flagstaff from which floated the cross of St George. 'He declares war on his own people. I hope he does not set more substance by the Queen's support than really exists.'

Lilian made no reply. This afternoon, even for her, she had been unusually silent.

'But still,' Kit said, 'it is a splendid house. You must admit that, sweetheart.'

'Have I ever denied it?' She mounted the steps to the verandah, her hand loose in his. The workmen smiled at them and touched their hats. 'And what of your ship?'

'She will be launched in a week, by all reports. Then ...'

'Then will you once again be absent from my side, too often.'

'Sweetheart ...'

'A man must be active. He must do. While a woman must wait. Is that not what you were going to say?'

'Well ... perhaps I would have chosen my words a trifle differently.'

'The substance would have been the same. But tell me this, Kit.' She freed her hand, and turned to gaze at the lawn, already sprouting grass, and the drive, and the labourers, and the engineer, and the red-coated sentry, patrolling the boundaries. 'Did not a great part of your love for Marguerite spring from admiration of her as a woman who stepped beyond the limits placed on our sex by history and convention?'

'Well ... she is unusual. I will grant you that.'

'She is breathtaking,' Lilian said. 'In the sweep of her personality. Because she refuses merely to confess, I am a woman, and therefore weak, and thereby hindered. She does what a man would do, whenever it becomes necessary or profitable.'

'There is no denying that,' Kit admitted. 'I suppose in many ways she is unique.'

'No human being is unique,' Lilian said quietly. 'They may only think in unique ways. But we all possess the same attributes, and most of us possess very similar feelings. Were you a general, what would you count the stratagem most likely to give you success in battle?'

'Why ... surprise, I would suppose.'

'And what has Marguerite done all her life, but surprise her friends and her enemies, her creditors and her debtors, by the force and unexpectedness of her action, of her decisions. And thereby she has achieved all her position and her power, and the admiration with which both men and women regard her.'

'I had not really expected to discover you in the role of Marguerite's defender,' Kit remarked.

'I but seek to point out the strengths on which she trades. Because you see, Kit, if I am ever to hold my head up high again, as Lilian Christianssen, and not merely as Christopher Hilton's mistress, then I must match her on her own ground.'

'But that is ...'

'Impossible? You diink too little of me, Kit. Not that you can be blamed for that. I have ever thought far too little of myself. But this last year I have thought a great deal, as I have had little else to do but think. I have tried to understand the point of view of my enemy, for she is my enemy and there is no point in arguing against that. She has reduced me to a contemptible nothing, a fool of a woman. I must either die, for I cannot live in that guise, or I must force her to admit that I am as good a woman as herself. It so happens that I have at last hit upon a way which provides me very simply with one or other of those alternatives.'

'Sweetheart ...' Kit began uneasily.

'Hear me out, please,' Lilian said, continuing to speak in the same quiet and composed tone. 'I yesterday wrote her a letter, reminding her of my grievance against her, and challenging her to meet me, at a place of her choosing, and with weapons of her choosing, and at a time of her choosing, that we might settle our quarrel once and for all.'

Kit gaped at her. 'You challenged her to a duel? But that is preposterous.'

'On the contrary.' Lilian unfolded a slip of paper she had hitherto kept in her hand. 'Here is her reply. "Mrs Christopher Hilton will be happy to meet Miss Lilian Christianssen, on the beach outside St John's, at dawn tomorrow morning, for the mutual settlement of their quarrel. The weapons she has chosen are pistols.'

13

The Revolution

'You cannot mean to go through with this madness?' Kit protested.

Lilian's frown had an almost Marguerite-like quality of imperiousness. 'Why should you call it madness?'

'Why, because ... because ... women do not fight with weapons.'

'It is not customary for them to do so, certainly,' she agreed. 'But I fail to see why they should not. In all the essentials required for the usage of arms we are not different to men.'

'Except in the mind,' he said. 'There you have it. Women have not the cast of mind to wish to harm or kill.'

'Then will we do each other no harm,' she pointed out, with maddening logic. 'But I am sure your remark can hardly apply to your wife. I would have said, there is a woman with sufficient presence of mind to harm, and to kill, if she chooses.'

'By God,' he said. 'You are right.' He seized her hands. 'Not only will Marguerite have the mind to maim you, at the very least, but she has the skill. She has challenged you to fight with pistols. Have you ever fired a pistol in your life?'

Lilian flushed. 'It is not my father's custom to have weapons in the house. But it is a simple matter, is it not?'

'God give me patience,' Kit cried. 'Oh, indeed, it is a simple matter. All things in life are simple enough, to those who understand them. Did you know that Marguerite practises with a pistol at least once a week, and has done so since childhood? She has always conceived it possible that the slaves might rise against their tormentors. She shoots with a deadly and heartless accuracy. Why, this will be no duel, Lilian. It will be, it must be, nothing less than murder.'

'Have you no faith in justice?'

'Ah,' he said. 'Trial by battle. Does the God of the Quakers admit to that?'

She glanced at him; her cheeks continued to glow, but she was no longer embarrassed. 'Is it not time we should be returning?'

He flicked the whip and the trap moved down the hill. 'The house is finished. I have no doubt that Dan will wish to move in as soon as possible.'

'My plans will scarcely interfere with his, Kit.'

'But you will move in with me, will you not?'

She gazed ahead of them at the road. 'Oh, indeed I shall, Kit. I am Kit Hilton's woman. Come next week, I shall be Kit Hilton's only woman, or I shall be dead. It seems to me to be a simple solution to everyone's problem. For be sure that with me gone, Marguerite would welcome you back. And I imagine that even you would welcome that situation. But I will at least have died with the knowledge that I am as good a woman as she.' Once again the quick glance. 'Or should I not even consider the possibility of death, before the duel? You could at least give me that much benefit of your experience.'

'My experience?' he cried. 'For God's sake, Lilian, what experience do I have? Would you believe that I have never fought a duel in my life?'

'You?' Her surprise was genuine.

'You have been listening to too many of your father's strictures. I have come to the point, often enough, but never have I actually had a challenge accepted.'

'Because of your known prowess. That must be a most comforting feeling. Yet you have killed often enough. So what do you feel immediately before battle? Do you doubt your own survival?'

'No,' he said. 'I have never doubted my own survival.' They entered the sleeping town, clattered gently down the street. Curtains moved at the windows, as usual. Captain Hilton and his woman. How they would stir when they heard of this.

'Well, then,' Lilian said. 'I must not consider my own death, either.' She rested her hand on his as the trap came to a halt. 'I am looking forward to moving in with you, Kit. But I could not do so under the present circumstances. When I bring my clothes up that hill I must be able to look any man, and more important, any woman, straight in the eye. I would hope that you could understand that.'

'I understand the sentiment,' Kit said.

'But you still feel it is unnatural. Well, it is unnatural, of course. But then, is not my entire position unnatural?' She smiled at him. 'I have not yet asked you to second me. Is that not the proper thing to do?'

'Lilian ...'

'Will you second me, Kit? Or must I go elsewhere?'

How steady her gaze. How little he knew, of what he had commenced when he had offered this girl his love. For how selfish is the human mind, how one-sided the human gaze. What had he seen, when first he had looked on Lilian Christianssen? A certain beauty, a certain charm, a certain quiet contentment with life? Or merely a woman eager to respond? He had seen no character, no depths of determination, no deep-seated knowledge of herself. Because had he seen those qualities, admirable in a man with whom one will fight a war, but daunting in a woman with whom one would share a bed, he would doubtless have turned and run.

And proved himself a fool. For is not all life a war? Against age, and poverty, and disease ... and other people who are also seeking their share? And would a woman, lacking those qualities, be worth having?

'I will second you, Lilian,' he said.

'Thank you. Presumably Marguerite will supply the pistols. Do you think I should practise?' She smiled at his bewilderment.

'I think not,' she said. 'An unsuccessful rehearsal might dispel what confidence I possess. I will please Papa by spending the evening in prayer.'

'Your father knows of this madness?'

She shook her head. 'No doubt he will learn of it, in due course. But he at the least will not try to stop me. He considers me nothing more than a daughter of the devil in any event, and searches his own past for the unthinking sin which could have produced me from his loins. But I would prefer not to distress him more than necessary. Do you remain at Mr Parke's house, and I will come to you at dawn.'

Kit hesitated. It cannot be, he thought. I cannot let this happen. But I cannot stop her. Even supposing I could, that would be to destroy her all over again. For this truly is the only solution she could ever have come to.

'Aye,' he said. 'I will wait for you, at dawn.'

He flicked the whip and the trap rolled away. He cantered beneath the archway and into the yard of the rented Government House, threw his reins to the waiting slave, and ran up the inner staircase. Colonel Parke was in the downstairs gallery with Mr Wolff.

'Kit,' the Governor cried. 'Great news. Wolff tells me everything is in place.'

'Why, so it is,' Kit agreed. 'I have just come from there.'

'Then we shall move up the hill on Monday. Thank you, Wolff. That is splendid news.'

I did the best I could, Your Excellency.' The engineer bowed to Kit and hurried for the door.

'And indeed he has done well.' Parke leaned over the plans. "And then, then we shall see what we shall see, Kit. I have been soft with these rapscallions. I have been too aware that while living here in the centre of their schemes I have been open to ambuscade and annoyance. But when I sit in that citadel, looking down on them, with the fort commanding the harbour at the other extreme, by God, sir, then will I call some of them to account. You'll know they have written letters to London, demanding my recall?'

'I had not heard,' Kit said. 'But how ...?'

Parke laid his finger alongside his nose. 'The captain of every ship that trades here is in my pay. Why, should they not humour their governor and principal employer? I took care of that aspect of the situation before I ever left England. So they take care that such of the letters as may be of importance to me are made available.'

'You mean you have confiscated them?'

'I am not that shallow, Kit. I but make myself acquainted with the contents, and then they may go their way. Thus forearmed, I am able to forestall their machinations. So they plead for my recall, and more, for my arrest on grounds of tyranny and misconduct. As long as I may inform the Queen that they will follow these lines, and before their letters reach their destinations, they are doomed to failure. As they deserve. Oh, make no mistake about it, soon enough they will have to come out into the open and declare their opposition to me, rather than have their people sneaking about in the dead of night attempting murder, or sending clandestine complaints home to England.'

Kit frowned at him. ‘You wish to provoke this?'

'Indeed I do. For when they oppose me, they oppose the Crown, and all the majesty of the Crown. Then may I call upon them to stand up and be counted, and then may I take overt measures against them. And then shall I need your strong right arm, Kit.'

Kit sighed. 'And no doubt you shall have it. Although I must say again I find it a strange way to set about governing a people, first to set them at your throat.'

'I will set them at their own throats,' Parke explained, and smiled. 'Nor is the concept as sinister as you would make it sound. For how may a surgeon set about curing a man shot through with ball? Why, first of all by causing the patient yet more pain while cutting away the diseased flesh and removing the afflicting lead. This is no more than I seek to do with these people.'

'Aye,' Kit said. 'No doubt politics of this nature are a shade too deep for me. I would speak to you on another matter, one which is a great deal closer to my heart. Lilian ...'

'Is pregnant. Say no more. I have expected the news almost daily. And you are distressed, for mother and child. So he will be a bastard. There can be no criticism of that, Kit. Where or how a man is born is of no account whatsoever. It is what he inherits from his parents that matters, in the way of character and personality, and your son will ever possess the best of both. Why, should you ask me to stand godfather, I would be flattered, and I accept, here and now.'

Kit sometimes felt that talking with Daniel Parke was like trying to walk a lane with his arms round a wild horse. 'Lilian's not pregnant. At least, not to my knowledge. She has found a way, she supposes, to resolve her difficulties, to expiate her humiliation.'

Parke's turn to frown.

'She has challenged Marguerite to a duel,' Kit said. 'And her challenge has been accepted. They meet with pistols on the beach, at dawn tomorrow.'

Parke's frown slowly cleared; it was replaced with a look of blank amazement. 'Two women, I beg your pardon, two ladies, mean to fight a duel? With pistols?'

'Exactly,' Kit said. 'A more preposterous idea has surely never been heard.'

'Preposterous,' Parke said. 'Oh, indeed, it is preposterous. Why, it is ..." he burst into a peal of laughter. 'By God, Kit, but you will have to excuse me. It is the jolliest piece of news I have received in ten years.'

'I have no doubt,' Kit said, 'that it will similarly amuse everyone who hears of it. I will not quarrel with that. I but require you to forbid it, and I will rest content.'

The frown was back, hovering in the middle of that high forehead. 'Forbid it? I?'

'You are the Governor of these islands.'

'Why, so I am. Yet must I obey the law. Is there a law against duelling?'

'Why, no. But women ...'

'There is not even a law governing the proper conduct of a duel between women. Why, had they elected to meet while stripped naked and armed only with their teeth, I would have no say in the matter.'

'Except that, no doubt, you would find it even more amusing,' Kit remarked coldly.

'Kit, Kit, must you see all life in such sombre colours? So they will exchange fire. What damage can they possibly do to each other? And it will give the gossips something to occupy their time while I mature my plans.'

'What damage?' Kit shouted. 'At twenty paces? Twenty female paces? At twenty paces, Dan, Marguerite could shoot the cigar from your mouth.'

'Oh, nonsense. Because this wife of yours has managed to obtain the advantage over you time and again, through your own carelessness, I have no doubt, you begin to give her the attributes of a goddess. I will hear no more of it, Kit. I do not believe any harm will come of this affair. Indeed, I suspect a great deal of good may result, for you at least. And I have no legal powers to interfere between two adult white ladies.'

'Oh, do not treat me as a complete fool,' Kit said angrily. 'You put your finger on the nub of the matter, from your point of view, but a moment gone. It will distract the people. By God, sir, that you should use two such women for such a purpose.' He picked up his hat and stormed from the room.

And whipped his horse over the roads to the south. That he should be riding on such a mission after all that had happened. Yet what alternative did he have? But could he honestly suppose there would be any succour to be obtained from a Warner, in this matter?

Yet must he try. The alternative was unthinkable.

It was dusk by the time he flogged his horse down the Goodwood drive. What memories came flooding back, of how many visits in the past, in the carriage, seated beside Marguerite. And of that very first visit, so long ago, now, when he had seemed to rise from disaster to scale the heights of wealth and prosperity.

'Halt, there.'

He reined, faced the blacks, armed with staves, and a white man, carrying a pistol. 'Good evening to you, Haley. I seek Colonel Warner.'

The overseer peered at him. 'Captain Hilton? It cannot be.'

Kit dismounted. 'What, will you set the dogs on me?'

Haley's head shook, slowly, from side to side. 'You'd speak with the Colonel? He is in the withdrawing-room. 'Tis no quarrel you're about, I hope.'

'Far from it.' Kit took off his hat and went up the steps, Haley at his shoulder. 'But it is a matter of importance, none the less. Aunt Celestine.'

She stood in the doorway, a slave behind her with a lantern. She was thinner than he remembered, and thus seemed taller than he remembered. A skeleton of a woman, waiting for death. Her mouth was tight, and this he also remembered. Only the presence of Marguerite and himself had ever made that mouth relax. But they had had to be together.

'You will not have the children,' she said.

'The children?' Kit frowned at her. 'My children are here?'

'Papa.' Tony ran out of the house.

'Papa. Papa.' Rebecca was at his heels. 'Mama said you would

not come. But we knew you would.'

Kit knelt between them, hugged them tight, looked over their heads at Celestine. 'Perhaps you would explain what has happened?'

'You did not know they were here?'

'I did not.'

She sighed. 'Well, then, why did you come?'

'To speak with your husband. But now I would also like to ask a few questions.'

Again the sigh. 'Tony and Becky are staying a season with us. No more than that. Off you go, now, children. Your father and Grandpapa have business to discuss.'

'But we'll see you again before you go, Papa,' Tony said.

'You will,' Kit promised.

They ran inside. Celestine Warner glanced at the overseer. 'You'd best leave us.'

Haley hesitated, and then touched his hat. 'As you wish, Mrs Warner. I'll not be far.'

'Who is it, Celcstine?' came the voice from inside. But this tone was scarce recognizable, so thin had it become.

'A guest, Philip,' she said, and lowered her voice. 'You'll understand that he is far from well, Kit. Indeed, I fear for his life. He had a seizure six months ago, and three since. 'Tis all he can do to speak, and movement is next to impossible without assistance.'

'I understand,' Kit said. 'Believe me, Aunt Celestine, I have come to cause him no hardship. I but wished to beg a favour.'

Again the long stare. 'You, wish to beg a favour of my husband?" Her mouth flattened in disbelief, but she turned and led him into the great withdrawing-room. 'You'll take a glass of punch?'

'That would be very kind of you.'

She rang a little bell which stood on the table by the withdrawing-room door, then led him into the room itself. And here he paused, in surprise and embarrassment.

Philip Warner sat in a large armchair in the far corner, close to the green baize topped table on which, in happier days, they had dealt their cards and rolled their dice. He seemed to have shrivelled, to occupy only half of the chair. Perhaps because he wore no wig, and what hair of his own he still possessed was quite white. But more, Kit thought, because his shoulders were hunched, and seemed to be drawn together.

Yet far more alarming was his face, which was mottled purple and white, with no trace of healthy colour remaining, while one side of it seemed to be contracted; when he spoke it was with great difficulty, and from die corner of his mouth.

But there was nothing the matter with his brain. 'Kit Hilton,' he said. 'By God, sir, you've impudence.'

Kit glanced at Celestine Warner. She would not speak, but she begged, with her eyes.

'Indeed, sir,' Kit said. 'You may believe that I would not have intruded upon you had the matter not been sufficiently grave. And I had no concept of how ill you are.'

'Or you would have come sooner?' Warner asked. 'Drink, man, drink.'

Kit discovered the Negro butler at his elbow, but to his dismay saw that the silver tray carried but a single glass.

'We neither of us find any pleasure in drink, these days,' Celestine said. 'But please take yours. And sit down, Kit. Philip has survived sufficient misfortunes in his life to survive a seizure as well, I have no doubt.' But she was speaking for the benefit of her husband. She understood the outcome of this illness.

Kit sat down, straight, like a schoolboy. But then he would always feel like a schoolboy, where the Warners were concerned. 'Yet am I indeed sorry to see you, or any man, Colonel Warner, brought so low.'

Philip Warner's brows drew together. 'You rode out here, at this hour to sympathize with me? Speak plain, man. Speak plain. You have come about the children.'

'Indeed, sir, I had no idea they were here until a few moments ago. I came out to speak about Marguerite.'

'Ah,' Philip said.

'You still consider her a responsibility of yours?' Celestine demanded.

Kit frowned at her. 'I doubt she would allow that, Aunt Celestine. I have not spoken with her this last year.'

'You have not?' Celestine inquired, genuinely surprised. 'Why ...'

'No more have we,' Philip muttered.

Kit's turn to stare in surprise. 'I do not understand, sir. She is your daughter, and ...' he hesitated.

'And I am dying. But I have not seen her since the day we placed you in that cell, Kit. Nor has anyone else, save her domestics.'