Ramsey’s head sank into his hands. Ravencatcher and Conawago disappeared from sight. Duncan nodded to Woolford, who rose and quietly spoke to Pike’s sergeant. Duncan found himself gazing at Sarah, who stared at the floor, a single tear on her cheek. Duncan became aware of movement around him, of a growl of protest abruptly cut off. When he turned back to the table, Ramsey was finally raising his head. Pike was standing to one side, a ranger holding each of his arms, a gag in his mouth. Conawago stood beside Duncan. Lister was standing, leaning on his crutch, rubbing his wrists where the manacles had been.
Duncan motioned to Woolford, and the ranger pushed Pike’s leather belt box in front of Ramsey. “Open it,” Duncan instructed, “there was more than a map in the case.” Ramsey glared at him, then lifted a small, cloth-wrapped object from the box and, with an impatient sigh, flung the cloth open.
As the glittering object inside was revealed, all color left the patron’s face. A choking moan escaped his throat. “Impossible!”
It was a small, elegant cross, worked in gold and rubies. Duncan had seen it once before, in the portrait of Lady Ramsey.
Ramsey looked as if he had seen the ghost of his wife. “She took it with her,” he declared in a hoarse whisper. “It went down with her.”
“No,” Duncan corrected. “Arnold stole it when she left, knowing you would think Lady Ramsey had taken it on her travels, then gave it to Pike to seal their bargain.”
“Bargain?”
Duncan nodded to the sergeant, who pried off Pike’s gag for a moment. “How many acres of land, Major? How many did Arnold pledge to you?”
Pike looked up defiantly. “Five thousand. And you haven’t authority to lift a finger against me, McCallum. You will pay, you all will pay,” he said, with a malevolent glance at Woolford.
“Five out of how many promised to Arnold, Lord Ramsey?” Duncan asked.
“Fifty,” Ramsey whispered, his gaze still locked on the cross. “Fifty thousand.”
“You and Arnold used the grenadier cap against Major Pike,” Duncan said to Ramsey. “You kept it because it could implicate him in the massacre. But you also needed a way to clear out the settlers from your new land. The homesteads were too haphazard, too random, to suit your plans, and most of all, they weren’t yours. All the clouds on your title had to be removed. This was Arnold’s one chance at greatness, a chance to own his own estate. Everything depended on meeting the terms of your bargain with the king. You had to clear the land of the Iroquois, and you would destroy them by destroying their chiefs. But Arnold knew you would need the settlers cleared, too.”
“It was where he had chosen his acreage, the tract between here and the mission along the river,” Ramsey said, still in a whisper.
“Once Arnold realized why Pike had massacred everyone at Stony Run, it would not be difficult for him to connect Pike to the French. A bargain between Arnold and Pike was the obvious next step. Pike worked for the French for money, for Arnold for land. They would help each other accomplish their goals. Pike would use the Hurons to finish the work he started last year at Stony Run, and to help you exact vengeance on Tashgua for taking your daughter, to help the Ramseys take the land offered by the king. But Pike needed some security. So Arnold gave him the cross.”
Duncan lifted the map taken from Pike and turned to the major. “Arnold needed help clearing out the homesteads. You had Hurons at your beck and call. Arnold had men in the south, you had the Hurons in the north.” The phantom raiders under Hawkins had attacked Duncan, he knew now, which was why Conawago had found his medallion on a dead raider at the burnt cabin, and why Hawkins had been so frightened by its sudden appearance in Ravencatcher’s hand.
No one spoke. The assembly in the barn was like a tinderbox. And the fire in the eyes of the Iroquois and the settlers was enough to ignite it.
Ramsey seemed to slowly sense the baleful stares directed at him. “I didn’t. . You have no proof that I. . How could I have known?” he sputtered. “Arnold was responsible for details. He just had to get the land ready, that was all.”
Duncan lifted the ledger book and turned to the back pages. “But the entries in the ledger, before Cameron and Arnold arrived. They are all in your hand.”
Ramsey had no reply. He shifted in his seat, seeming to grow smaller, then stared at the cross again.
Duncan moved to the place where Sarah had sat and chanted the month before, facing the storeroom. He opened the storeroom door as the spectators shifted to watch him. “Codes and secrets, bounties and bribes. The lifeblood of the Ramsey Company.”
“Let us move to the schoolhouse,” Ramsey suddenly blurted out, standing, gesturing toward the great house. “Refreshments. We should have refreshments in the garden before we continue. Rum. Rum for everyone!”
“What would your wife think, Ramsey,” Woolford asked, “if she knew how many deaths were built upon her cross?”
The words seemed to stab Ramsey. He sagged, dropping back onto the stool, gazing once more at the cross in his hand.
As Duncan began pulling away the barrels that lined the back wall of the room, he recalled another day, on the ship, removing barrels to find Evering’s body trailing in the sea. He felt a strange closeness to the gentle professor, as if now he were taking Evering home.
More men, Iroquois, Company men, and rangers alike, joined the effort. When the wall was cleared, Duncan called for lanterns and began to examine it, began to study each joint, each plank and peg. After a long moment, he surveyed the objects in the room, settling on an open barrel in which spare shovel and ax handles had been stored. He explored the contents of the barrel and then the shadow behind the barrel, pulling out a short pole, beveled at one end like a three-foot-long wooden chisel. It took only a few moments to find the board on the wall it fit under, at a narrow gap by the floor that could easily have escaped notice. He pried the pole under it, levered it upward, and a three-foot section of the wall swung out on hidden hinges.
A rank, fetid odor wafted out of the sealed room. On a small table by the door sat several writing leads, a candle in an iron holder, and a candle box. Duncan slid back the lid of a small candle box. Inside were several more pieces of jewelry. Brooches and necklaces, most of gold, some with Dutch-worked diamonds.
“The treasure room!” someone in the rear called out as Duncan lifted a necklace into the light. “Bring out the rest of the treasure!”
Duncan stepped into the darkened doorway. “This is what Arnold stole. There is no more treasure,” he said, a new sort of fear tightening his throat, “only the seeds of the Ramsey empire.”
But the men, having seen the gold and jewels, would not be stopped. Duncan found he had no strength to resist as they pushed forward, grabbing the lanterns. The tide pushed him toward Sarah, who leaned against a barrel, her head down, one hand wrapped around the leather pouch at her neck. All color had left her face. He gently pulled her head against his shoulder.
Within seconds the men were fleeing, pale as ghosts, two of them emptying their stomachs on the barn floor. Woolford and Jamie soon stood alone in the doorway, their faces as old and gray as stone.
Here was the essence of the Ramsey Company, here was the warehouse of Ramsey’s and Arnold’s ambitions. They hung from slats like drying tobacco, row after row of patches of skin and long black hair.
“Over a hundred at least,” Woolford announced. “They weren’t particular. Young and old. Men and women.” Some of the braids still held small feathers; some had beads and ribbons woven into them. Along the wall were other trophies-elaborately carved drums and war axes, and Indian clothing, enough to meet the needs of any troupe seeking to masquerade as Hurons.