Emperor of Gondwanaland (13 page)

Finally Kane chose to register my Ardent Eyebeams and motioned me to his Side. Tremulously I approached. Once within his Orbit, I made so bold as to ask a Boon, most especially now, whilst my Father was Absent. “Mr. Kane, I want to come with you when you strike out after the heathen prince.”

Kane’s Smile resembled a Hawk’s Beakish Grin. “The little scholar desires to experience the warrior’s lot? Not so wise a wish, young Cotton. Should your face be flecked but once with your foe’s blood, you may well find yourself casting aside your primers in favor of the gun and the sword. And that is not a fate I would wish on anyone.” Kane’s eyes clouded over momentarily, as if he were watching a Parade of Phantasms from a Softer, more Luxurious Period in his own Career. “Had I heeded my own earliest inclinations, I might have become a simple schoolmaster, and never known the pains and tragedies I have endured. A wife, a fixed abode, children of my loins—all foreclosed to me now. But forsooth, absent also would have been the harsh glories of righteous conquest and retribution against sinners. And I surely would not be here speaking with you now, but long ago moldered to dust in my humble grave.”

At this Juncture Kane negligently fondled the Cat-headed Stave at his waist, arid my Eyes widened as I bethought to detect a Faint Glow emanating from the Fetiche.

There came a stir at the Door of the Room, and Kane summarily ended my short Interview. “I will not trammel thy spirit, Cotton. Every man must learn for himself which path he will tread. Let us see what eventuates. Stay alert, and take whate’er chance Dame Fortune presents.”

Flanked by the returning Crowd, Mary Rowlandson entered the room. A short, pretty, chaste Woman of no great years, who yet evinced upon her Lineaments the Marks of her Travails as captive of the Indians, she came timorously into the presence of our Guest.

“Mary Rowlandson,” said Kane decorously, “you received an audience from the Wampanoag sachem Metacomet during your captivity?”

“Yes, Sir, that I did. At first I was greatly afear’d of him, for he presented a fierce-some sight. He stood outside his rude wigwom, exceedingly tall, with mighty thews. He was girded with wampom, the Indian currency, and his stern face was bedizened with garish daubs of paint. But once he began to speak, in a calm and respectful manner, I someways lost my fright. He inquired as to my treatment, and I made complaint about the poor food afforded us, recounting how we slaves subsisted most days on naught but ground-nuts and hirtle-berries. Hearing this, Philip issued orders that we be given meat, bear or venison. Likewise, he ordered replacements for our tattered stokkins and shoos. When my audience was concluded, I retired with a fonder impression of him than I had expected to retain.”

Kane seemed to come to some sudden decision. “Mary, you and I must now adjourn to a private chamber, where I intend to make use of your prior proximity to our enemy. For I have a method of ascertaining his current whereabouts thro’ the spiritual bond established ’twixt you and the salvage. Mr. Arnold, where may we obtain the requisite privacy?”

Benedict Arnold hastened to say, “Pray employ the bedchamber my daughters use.”

Kane stood, and escorted Mary Rowlandson to the designated Chamber.

Immediately I made for the Outer Door, but reckoned not with my Father’s intervention.

“Cotton! Whither are you bound?”

“Ah, Sir, I—to the privy! ’Tis urgent!”

“Very well then. But stray not!”

Clutching my Privates as if to contain the Impulse to Micturate, I hastened outside.

Reader, I will confess to being no Plaster Saint in my Youth. As the Case was with Holy Augustine, the Tugs and Lures of the Flesh exerted their Devilish Sway over the immature Lad I once was. I oftssstimes sweated blood over my Sins of impurity, in the Wake of their Fulfillment, but could not find it in myself to firmly Excommunicate the Urges, so that I would, after some Days’ piety, fall once again into the Slough of Onan. But at the Moment when I dash’d forth from the Arnold Household, I had cause to bless the Muddier Wellsprings of my Constitution, for it was these selfsame Peccant Ways which now afforded me a chance to spy upon Kane at his Conjurings.

I had removed from Boston to Newport many a Time before this day, accompanying Father on business matters concerning his Investments in the Carib Trade, viz., Molasses, Rum, and Slaves. And we were often hosted by Benedict Arnold, one of Father’s partners. In my aimless lonely Rambles about the Yard whilst boring Mercantile Affairs were conducted, I had discovered a small Chink or Slit in the outer wall of the House, a Gap which fortuitously gave upon the bedroom of the Arnold girls. Shielded by a dense stand of Pipeplants, whose lilac blooms would oft perfume my Vernal Peeping, this Spyhole had granted me many a Sweet Moment of Carnal Delight, as I witnessed the girls Making Water in their Chamberpots, or adjusting their Petty Coates and Stays.

Now I planted myself firmly before this Coign of vantage and was rewarded with the following Spectacle.

Mary Rowlandson sat on a sturdy straight-backed Chair, whilst Kane stood behind her. Their Speech, if any, I could not discern. But what Unfolded next made mere Words superfluous.

Kane laid his Left Hand upon Mary’s collarbone, his Fingertips trailing tantalizing close to the Slope of her Bosom. I experienced a momentary Twinge of Suspicion. Was our Unassailable Puritan going to give way to his own Base Lusts and Molest his Subject? How could I follow him with Honor then? But no, Kane’s Right Hand rose into view, clutching his Feline-Top’t stave. That Instrument began to emit a Verdigrised Phosphorescence, a Lambent Glow that cloaked the actors in a veritable Corpselight. Kane uttered Something then, forcefully invoking Assistance or commanding Materialization.

Slowly, slowly, a third figure began to Cohere out of Thin Air. Surrounded by an Identifiable Landscape of Marshy Aspect, the Wraith gradually assumed its Wonted Lineaments, and I suddenly knew I was looking at none other than King Philip Himself.

Reader, you may rest assured that I felt at that Pivotal Moment like King David viewing Bathsheba nude at her Ablutions, all atingle with Mindless Exaltation. But as the Horrible Figure of Metacomet acquired more and more Solidity, my feelings transform’d to those which Actaeon must have felt, stumbling upon Artemis at her Sylvan Bath: a sense of Trespassing on the Cosmically Shrouded.

And when the Moment arrived that King Philip’s puzzled, roving Eyes seemed to fasten on my Spyhole and engage my own Orbs in Spiteful Recognition, I nearly Fainted from fear.

Kane, howsomever, was nowise Discommoded by the Ghost. The Puritan’s next actions were easy to interpret: he adjured the Ghost to speak. But this Astral Semblance of Metacomet, I soon saw, was no Obedient Smoak, but rather a Spectre of some Volition and Malignance. Philip’s only response to Kane’s Adjuration was to Glower most Fearsomely and fasten his hands around Kane’s throat!

Then ensued a brief but violent Tumult, as the two Warriors Contested against each other. Freed of Kane’s steadying grip, Mary Rowlandson, drain’d of life, fell insensible to the Floorboards. My Heart was in my Gullet as Metacomet bent my Hero backwards, as if to crack his very Spine. But then Kane swung his Pagan Stave against the Skull of the Salvage King, and the Unnatural Apparition exploded in a Blaze of Light.

After spending just a moment longer at the Chink, to Ascertain that Kane yet Breathed and was making a Full Recovery, I hastily returned to the Gathering inside, making a Shew of buttoning my Trews.

Evidently, sounds of Kane’s Struggle had penetrated to the Assembly, for much Consternation was abrew. Majors Pynchon and Gookin stood poised to burst in upon Kane. But just then the bedroom door opened, and a weary Kane emerged, half supporting his stun’d Female Accomplice.

Kane held up one hand in a Gesture of Reassurance. “All is well. I contended with the spirit of our enemy, and altho’ he escaped me, I won the knowledge of his location, leaving him all unwitting of the theft, and, consequently, complacent of his own security. Philip is ensconced in the miry depths of a certain swamp at the foot of Mount Hope. We will set out under cover of darkness to bring the rogue down. But till then, let us all rest and prepare. I myself am sore fatigued.”

Master Arnold conducted Kane to his own Bed. A General Exultancy reigned, albeit tinged with Sobriety at the Assault yet to come, as men slap’d each other upon their Backs and assured one another that at long last the Days of Terror were at an end.

Never prior to this Fateful Night had I ever considered myself to be one of the Sinners assailed by Paul in his
Second Letter to the Romans
. A Preacher’s son, ever alert to maintaining Public Probity and a Cleanly Conscience, I had so long trodden the Path of Righteousness that by now such behavior was Second Nature to me, even as my Rectitude earned me Cuffings and Taunts from my Rowdy Errant Peers. Yet assuredly my actions of but a scant hour pass’t had caused me to Plummet into the ranks of those Sinners castigated by the Apostle, for Paul numbers among such Fiends as murderers, gossips, slanderers and inventors of evil, those who are “disobedient to their parents.”

And so I had been.

But now, as I rode Unseeing thro’ the Stifling August Night, bundled beneath the very Cloak of my Hero as the Mighty Steed lent to Kane carried us north to Tripp’s Ferry, in Pursuit of the Greatest Villain and Conqueror these Arcadian Shores of the English Zion had yet known, I could not by any Dint of Conscience Regret my sins. For had I obeyed my Father’s commands to remain behind in Newport, I would have missed all that Violent Glory that was to come, and thereafter Reviled my Overpunctiliousness for all Eternity.

At least such were my sanguine Feelings as I clutched the taut-muscled midriff of Solomon Kane whilst we gallop’d to our Destiny. Hang the Consequences till the Morrow! Tonight I was my own Man!

Kane had not Stirred from his Needful Sleep until well past eleven of the clock that eve, and the assembled Soldiers, Farmers, and Tradesmen had grown restless as Hens before a Storm, despite busying themselves with the preparations of their Weaponry and the Stoking of their Guts. But when the Grim Cavalier finally emerged with his Surly Magnificence Restored, and commanded, “Let us be off!” all Impatience and Incertitude vanish’t, and a Lusty Huzzah spontaneously shook the very Rafters of the Arnold homestead.

As the men marshaled outside in the starlit Yard amidst the snorting Horses, Father approached me.

“Cotton, I have arranged for Faith and Charity to attend thee while we elders finish this dangerous and sordid matter. Thee need not go to bed at all on such a momentous night, for I know thy curiosity as to our success would certainly keep the awake. But I do trust that thee will make the most of thy time with the Arnold girls, perhaps by regaling ’em with some of thy lessons in natural history. Share with ’em the exciting news of the fossil record of God’s abortive creations, those uncouth beasts which Noah spurned, and which perished afterwards in the Flood.”

At any other time the Enticing Prospect of being alone with the Arnold Daughters would have commanded my whole attention. But tonight I was not to be Fobbed off so easily. Yet I made no Objection to my Father, but merely nodded mutely. Insofar as I kept Silent, so I chopped my logic, I could not be afterwards deemed a Liar.

As soon as Father exited, I made my same Privy-Desirous Excuse to the Arnolds, and was outside amidst the restlessly tromping Troop.

Spotting Kane, I acted unhesitantly. Racing to the side of his Horse, I thrust up my hand.

“Take me with you!” I whispered in a husky fashion.

Wordlessly Kane complied, hauling me off the ground with One-Handed ease. As I swung up into the saddle, he adjusted his long Mantle to Enshroud me, and the Deed was Done, with no one the Wiser.

Beneath my Woolly Concealment, bereft of any Actual Sense of the passing Terrain, I mentally rehearsed our Progress northward thro’ Middle Town and Port’s Mouth, along the sizable island whereof Newport occupied the Southern Portion. Our Terminus would be Tripp’s Ferry, the Connexion to Mount Hope and Bristol on the Mainland. How I would avoid Father there, I could not say, and simply Entrusted my Survival as a member of the War Party to Luck and to Kane’s Patronage.

After nearly an hour’s hard Riding, we made the Slip wherefrom the Ferry wontedly departed. A messenger had been dispatched while Kane yet slumbered, and the Ferrymen awaited us, eager to do their part to end the Depradations of the Wampanoags and their kindred. The flickering light of Cressets and Torches filtered thro’ the Weave of Kane’s cloak, and I anticipated being Caught out upon perhaps some necessary Dismounting. But Kane simply trotted us onboard the rocking Ferry, taking up a Station at the Prow, and after another ten or so Horsemen followed, we poled off, leaving the rest of our party ashore until the craft returned.

I could hear the Oarlocks Engaged as we reached deeper Waters, and the Chaunts of the Laboring Scullers as they drew us across the half-mile of salty channel. The devilish August heat had hardly Abated with the fall of night, and the Closeness of my Little Tent made my eyes droop. But what Chanced next pulled me out of my drowse as surely as a Fisherman yanks a Cod from its Wat’ry Parlor.

“Mr. Rane,” Major Pynchon said in a trembling voice, “what make you of those fast-moving clouds?”

When we had left Newport the begemmed nocturnal Skies had been clear as Ice. But obviously not so now.

“I like them not, major. They recall to me the boiling storm- heads which I saw accrue when an Ethiope sorcerer of my acquaintance named N’Longa sought to dishearten his foes by magical means. Plainly these stormheads too are of supernatural origin.”