“Wot?”
She pulled her hair away from her right ear. It was puffed and black, and the inside was caked with dried blood. “It still hurt something terrible.” She undid her blouse. Her chest was hideously bruised. “He did this. Yor son. He be a right devil and thee knowed it.”
“By God Liza. If he . . . if I knowed . . . it be best he be dead. But not by assassins and not without honor, by God.” His face terrible, he drew a mug of ale from the barrel and Liza thanked God that she’d had the foresight to have a fresh keg ready.
“The doctor be sure about the pox? That young bugger?”
“He has no pox and he baint a bugger. He’s thy son-in-law!”
“I knowed that. God curse him!”
“Tyler, forgive they two. I be beggin’ thee. He be a good boy and he be terrible in love with Tess and she be happy and—”
“Hold thy tongue!” Brock gulped the beer and slammed the tankard down. “Dirk be planning all this’n. I knowed it. T’spite me! First he be out to destroy my eldest son— and then takes away me marrying my girl proper. God curse Struan! He even tooked that from me!” He hurled the tankard against the bulkhead. “We be burying Gorth at sea today.”
“Tyler, luv,” Liza began. She touched his arm. “Tyler, luv, there be somethin’ else. It must be sayed. Thee’s got to forgive—thee’s a lot to forgive. About Nagrek.”
“Eh?”
“Gorth tol’ me what thee and him did to Nagrek. That be terrible—but he be deserving it. ’Cause he laid with Tess. He did. But Culum doan know, it seem. So thy girl be saved from a terrible fate.”
The muscles around Brock’s eye socket began twitching fiercely. “Wot be thee sayin’?”
“It be true, Tyler,” Liza said, and then her torment broke. “At least give they a chance. It were thy oath, afore God. And God helped us’n with Tess, lad. Forgive they.” She buried her head in her arms and sobbed convulsively. Brock’s lips moved but no sound came out. He lumbered to his feet, crossed the corridor, and then he was standing before Culum and Tess.
He saw the terror in Tess’s eyes. This hurt him and made him cruel. “Thee choosed to go again’ my wish. Three month, I sayed. But thee—”
“Oh, Da’—oh, Da’—”
“Mr. Brock. Can I—“
“Shut thy face. Thee’ll get thy say soon enough! And thee, Tess, thee choosed to run off like a cheap doxy. Very well. Go say goodbye to thy ma. Then thee’s out of our life and ashore with thy man.”
“Oh, Da’, please listen—”
“Go on! I wan’ t’talk to him.”
“I baint leaving!” Tess shouted hysterically. She picked up the belaying pin. “Thee’ll not touch ‘im. I’ll kill thee!” He snatched the belaying pin out of her hands before she knew he had moved. “Out you go and ashore.” Brock was watching himself as though in a nightmare; he wanted to forgive and he wanted her arms around him, but some depraved other self was driving him and he could not resist. “Out, by God!”
“It’s all right, darling,” Culum said. “Go along and pack your bags.”
She backed out of the cabin, then scurried away.
Brock kicked the door to. “I swore to give thee berth and safe harbor. But that were when you be wedding proper.”
“Listen, Mr. Brock—”
“You listen, by God, or I’ll crush thee like bedbug.” A thread of saliva trickled from a corner of his mouth. “I sayed to thee fair, man t’man, if three month were agreeable. Thee sayed yes. But thee broke thy word. I sayed, ‘Be honest, lad.’ ”
Culum said nothing. He prayed for strength and knew that he was beaten. But he would try, by God.
“Did thee or didn’t thee?”
“Yes.”
“Then I be thinkin’ I be absolved from oath.”
“Can I speak now?”
“I baint finished. But even though thee cheated, thee’s wed. Will thee answer question? Afore God? Then we be even.”
“Of course.” Culum wanted to tell Brock about the pox and the whorehouse and the why of it.
“Afore God?”
“Yes. I’ve nothing to hide and—”
Brock cut him short. “Did thy father plan all this’n? Put elopement into thy head? Knowing it be making Gorth mad? Knowing this’n’d make Gorth so mad he be challenging him in public so thy Da’ be able to fight him fair and square? Did thee go t’whorehouse drunken, not knowing where thee be, with whom thee be? Thee doan have to answer. It’s writ in thy face.”
“Yes—but you must listen. There’s a lot—”
“Thee’s got thy safe harbor from me. But I’ll tell thee square, I’m after thy Da’. I’m after Noble House. I be never resting till they’s broke. Now thy only harbor be in Brock and Sons. Only there, Culum godrotting Struan! And till that day thee’s dead afore my face. Thee and Tess.”
He hurled the door open.
“You haven’t heard my side!” Culum shouted. “That’s not fair!”
“Doan thee talk about ‘fair,’ ” Brock said. “I asked thee to thy face. Three month! I sayed ‘Be honest, lad.’ But thee still broke thy word. Thee’s no honor afore me, by God!”
He strode away and Culum stared after him, his anguish and relief and shame and hate wrenching him. “You’re not fair,” he said, his voice hurting him.
Brock came on deck and the crew kept their distance.
“Pennyworth!”
The second mate turned away from supervising the sorting out of spars and broken rigging and clambered warily over toward Brock.
“Find Struan,” Brock said. “Tell him I be waiting for he at Happy Valley. Twixt his wharf and mine.” He stopped, and his face twisted into a mirthless smile. “No. At knoll in Happy Valley. Yus. His knoll wot were. Tell him I be waiting for he at the knoll in Happy Valley—like he wanted to go again’ Gorth. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Pennyworth bit his lip. “Yes, sir.”
“And if you whisper this to any man but he, by the Lord God, I’ll cut thy balls off.” Brock started down the gangway.
“Who’s to get the ship squared away, sir?”
“Thee. Yo’re cap’n o’ the
White Witch. After thee delivers message.”
Struan was contemplating Yin-hsi. She was still asleep beside him. He compared her with May-may. And May-may with his Chinese mistress of years ago. And the three of them with Ronalda, his only wife. So different. Yet so much the same in so many ways. And he wondered why the three Orientals excited him more than Ronalda who was his love—until he knew May-may. And he asked himself what love was.
He knew that the three Chinese had much in common: an unbelievable silkiness of skin and a humor and a belongingness and a worldliness beyond anything that he had experienced. But May-may far excelled the other two. She was perfect.
He touched Yin-hsi affectionately. She stirred but did not awaken. He carefully slid out of bed and looked out the portholes to check the sky. The overcast was heavier. He dressed and went below.
“So,” May-may said. She was sitting up in bed, exquisite.
“So,” he said.
“Where’s my sister?”
“ ‘Sup-reem Lady sen’ me.’ ”