Acadia Song 04 - The Distant Beacon (28 page)

“Steady there, my lady,” the general said, his grip now firm on her arm. “Remember, you are among friends here.”

The general’s words were muffled by Nicole’s rising fury. This man had not only lied about his identity, he had stolen her father’s good name and taken money in return for the casual destruction of her beloved. Nicole’s body shook with rage.

The squad leader saluted General Mitchell. “Lieutenant Rightly, sir. I’ve brought him straight here as ordered.”

“Well done, Lieutenant. You and your men remain as you are.” The general then raised his voice and barked, “You there, whoever you are, remove your hat!”

With an arrogant sweep, the rider flipped his hat back so it hung from his neck by a leather braid. The dark gaze slid across Nicole’s face. He drawled in French, “Still wearing castoffs and hand-me-downs, I see.”

“Enough!” The general’s face had gone brilliant red. “Do you know this man, my lady?”

“
My lady
,” mocked the man, his English heavily accented. “My lady, indeed! She is nothing more than an ignorant village lass, who will sing any tune you wish so long as it earns her a meal and a bed!”

“Hold hard there!” Gordon stepped to the forefront, his eyes blazing.

The Frenchman rocked back in his saddle. “You!”

“That is right, traitor, it’s Gordon Goodwind. And if you have a mind to see tomorrow, you will address the lady as such!”

The Frenchman made an obvious attempt to recover. “General, you cannot possibly accept the word of a spy and a trollop against my—”

“Enough of that!” General Mitchell rapped out again. “My lady, do you recognize this man?”

“Yes I do, sir.”

“His name, if you please.”

Nicole swallowed, her eyes steady on the man. “His name is Jean Dupree.”

Chapter 39

Major Harries offered a gloved hand and said, “I will be happy to hold the reins, Miss Nicole.”

“Thank you, sir.” She waited for Gordon to dismount and come around. She needed no assistance, but it felt good to draw from his strength at this time. “It is most kind of you to see us out here.”

“General’s orders, ma’am. And my pleasure.” The major lifted his voice and called up to the stockade’s parapet, “Ho there! Official visitors from General Mitchell to see the prisoner Jean Dupree!”

Soon the tall prison gates swung open, and she and Gordon started forward. Gordon commented shortly, “Never did I think I would willingly pass through these portals again.”

The stench of overcrowded men wafted out. “I could never do this without you,” she said weakly. “Never.”

“You need not do this at all.”

“Yes,” she replied, walking through the gates and nodding to the waiting chief jailer. “I must.”

“Very well, then.” Gordon addressed the startled jailer, “Gordon Goodwind and the Lady Nicole Harrow to see Jean Dupree.”

“He’s back in the cage with the others doomed as traitors.” The jailer gave Gordon a wary look, but when

Gordon said nothing, he merely pointed them toward the guard hut. “I’ll ask you to wait in there while I bring the prisoner out.”

The wait seemed to last forever, though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before Jean Dupree towered in the doorway. “Come to gloat over me?” he demanded.

Nicole debated whether she should order him to speak in English, then decided it didn’t matter. She could translate for Gordon later. “I have come to say that I have begged the general for your release,” she said in French, “and Gordon has aided me in this.” She motioned him to the seat across from them. “Sit down, please.”

Reluctantly Jean lowered himself down, while three armed guards stood careful watch nearby. His chains clinked when he leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. His next words were in English and directed at Gordon. “You know what she has just told me?”

“I don’t know much French, but from your expression I imagine she has said how she has asked the general for your pardon. And I have added what weight I could to the request. But he’s having none of it, I’m sorry to say.”

A hint of Nicole’s former ire remained with her still. The taste of ashes was bitter in her mouth, not only from the anger she had felt before, but also because of the love she’d wasted on this man. All night she had prayed, and once again God had seemed silent. Yet this time the stillness had been answer enough. For through this nighttime vigil had come a sense of rightness. She carried it with her even here. “We will do all we can to have your sentence lessened. For the moment, they are remaining very severe.”

“Then there is little hope of success,” Jean Dupree responded with a smirk. He seemed altogether unfazed by what she’d just said. “Seeing as how I am to hang in four days’ time.”

Nicole studied the man who had first stolen her heart, then robbed her nights, her mind, of peace. “What brought you to such a grievous betrayal?”

“Your father had me banished.” Although his speech held to a casual tone, there was fire in his eyes. “In revenge I took his name and besmirched it everywhere I possibly could.”

“Besides his faith, his good name is what my father prizes most,” she reproached him.

“Well do I know it.” The smile was tainted with bitterness, anger. “I cannot tell you what pleasure I have had in building him a new reputation that stretches now from Louisiana to Boston.”

She nodded slowly, praying inwardly that Henri would never learn of this. But all she said was, “I forgive you. And if it comes to it, I know Father will also.”

The calm way she expressed this left Jean clearly stunned.

“The real reason why I came to you this day,” she replied, “why both of us are here, is to share with you the message of God’s love for you.”

Gordon said, “We, who have every reason to hate you, come now with a message of peace. As one who was placed in the hangman’s cage by your very hand, I urge you to think on where you are headed.”

Beneath the table Nicole reached over and gripped Gordon’s hand. It felt as though her heart were about to burst, but she forced herself to stay composed. “See this as a moment when you can still choose your final destiny,” she said. “Choose wisely, while you still have the time.”

Chapter 40

Nicole reached up to push back a tendril of hair that had tumbled across her forehead. Her Bible lay open in her lap, but her eyes were closed. She’d read the Scripture passage often enough over the past days to know it by heart. It spoke to her in a new way each time she recited it to herself. It was Gordon who had drawn her attention to these verses in the Gospel of Matthew. She smiled at the thought. Strange that she had felt she must lead him into spiritual truths, and now it was he who was leading her.

She had been familiar with the passage. Both sets of parents had at various times tried to instill the words within her, yet for some reason they had only touched her mind, not her heart. Perhaps she hadn’t needed them in such an intense way before. She needed them now. Had perhaps always needed them but had refused to recognize the fact. She opened her eyes and stared into the distance where a lone driver prodded a team of oxen pulling a cart weighed down with newly mown hay. Nicole could smell the freshness of it even from where she sat on the vinecovered veranda, sheltered from the burn of the afternoon sun.

The words were spoken by Christ himself.

“Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy.

“But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;

“That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven.”

In spite of the heaviness of her heart as she thought of the conflict in the world she knew, she smiled to herself. She felt she was finally beginning to grasp the deeper meaning of the verses before her. What a different place the world would be if people lived by the words of the blessed Book.

She sighed. Her world was again headed for war. Was already in deep conflict. There was no peace. No peace.

“Ah.” The one small sound escaped her lips. She laid her head against the high-backed rocker, again closing her eyes against the intensity of her feelings. There could be peace. There was peace. Wonderful, glorious peace within individual hearts. With God’s help and forgiveness she had discovered it for herself, once she had let go of the bitterness and pain of her past. For the first time she felt she truly understood the two sets of parents who had given and sustained her life. They knew the passage. Not just the words but the truth in the words. The God of the words. This was why they had not fallen into bitterness. What was it Pastor Collins had said about the response of different soils to the same rains? Some soil became soft and pliable, other soil hard-packed and resistant. Why had it taken her so long to see this?

Again Nicole thought of the words of the passage. The truth had been there, right before her all the time. God forgives when forgiveness is given. There can be no joy or comfort in an embittered heart. For the follower of the Christ, there was no other choice but forgiveness.

Her smile deepened. She couldn’t describe the relief to her soul to have this peace within, the bitterness now gone through which she had once viewed her world. At first she had felt almost a void. The anger had become such a part of her, to have it taken away had left a vacancy. Yet this was soon filled up as she turned to the pages of Scripture. The change had been beyond her dreams and expectation. Every day she felt the inner quickening. The sky appeared brighter, the birdsongs sounded sweeter. She felt more alive than ever. Even in the midst of the deepest of traumas her inner peace brought her a settledness, stability now. It was a
miracle
. There was that word again.

The prayer that rose from her heart was one of deepfelt gratitude to a God who understood her far better than she understood herself.

Gordon called on her that evening, a regular occurrence now among the events of the day. Each time she heard his approaching footsteps, her heart felt a tremor of anticipation.

Their greeting was warm but discreet. Within the small Cambridge inn where Nicole resided, curious eyes seemed to be everywhere.

“It has been unseasonably warm today,” Gordon observed as he placed his hat in Nicole’s outstretched hand.

“It is much cooler on the back porch,” she said. “Do you wish for shade?”

“I have no desire to discredit your name—” he began, but Nicole quickly put his uncertainties to rest.

“Two of the household servants are working in the back garden,” she explained.

Gordon nodded, relief in his eyes. “Some mercy from the sun’s blast does sound good.”

“I have drawn some fresh water from the well.”

She watched a moment as Gordon retreated to the porch, heavily screened by ivy, and lowered himself into one of the hickory twig chairs and stretched out his legs. She hurried toward the well.

“It is much cooler here, is it not?” Nicole asked as she poured out two cups of the cold water and set the pitcher on a small wicker table. She handed the cup to Gordon, and their fingers brushed slightly. Nicole dropped her eyes and felt her cheeks warm.

“It is,” Gordon said. “Very much so. I’ve never felt such heat, even when out drilling troops in the midday sun. But we did much of our training in the forested valley down below the fort. Sergeant Jackson is proving to be worth his weight in gold, I don’t mind telling you. We might easily have lost half the men to heatstroke, had John not suggested we train among the trees.”

Nicole’s heart sank at the mention of preparing for battles to come. He must have seen it, for he hurried on, “What has busied your day?”

“Very little. I feel rather useless living such as I do. I did a bit of mending of tunics. And I did go in to market with my basket. There wasn’t much to be found. It is a blessing we have the gardens and the hens.”

She lifted her cup and moved to the chair near Gordon. Both remained silent with their thoughts. At length Gordon broke the silence.

“I came this evening with a heaviness of spirit,” he said slowly, “with a very small but intense hope that will not die.”

Nicole lifted her head and looked into his face.

“You know that I have sought before to share my heart with you. You stopped me then and wisely so. It was not the proper time to speak, just as you said,” he said, his words coming faster now.

Nicole could feel her heart thumping within her chest. She prayed she would remain calm, think clearly.

“What to me was once a mystery—that a maid would turn away the suit of an honorable man simply because he did not hold to faith in the same way she herself did—I now see as justified. I admire you for placing the choice before me. Had I known then the difference between believing that there is a God and believing that I must of necessity throw myself on His mercy, I would have understood your position without question. I must thank you for your stability of faith.”

High compliments, all. But not the words Nicole most desired to hear.

Gordon cleared his throat, switched the position of his booted feet, and continued, “I fear that we have put ourselves in a very delicate position. I am unsure as to what your situation might be in regard to returning to Nova Scotia, but I expect that British shores will no longer bid you welcome. As for me, I know I dare not ever present myself to my homeland again. There is no turning back, Nicole. I have given my allegiance to this new land of America. I intend to also give my heart in loyalty. Win or lose the battle that is surely before us, I am now on the side of the colonists, whatever the cost. This will be my home.”