Tales of the Executioners

Chapter 9: Beldren What we Deserve, Part 1

This story opens in the late summer of 1687 in Virginia, seventy-two years after Jamie's story.

***

Matthias stood before the three men, his back to the tavern's fireplace. His Germanic accent lent a learned, steady quality to his words; an illusion Beldren didn't fall for. "I am tired of living as a vagabond with no discernable prospects, as are you, my friends. With no land, no home, no farm. On my journey I saw things you will not believe, things which would remedy our plight. Gold, lace, and riches beyond our dreams! It is time to take what we are owed; take it for our own."

Beldren massaged his temple. Matthias had recently returned from his "expedition" a journey he'd undertaken to prove whether stories of a mysterious mansion were true or myth. He'd come back last evening, full of excitement, promising to solve all their woes with "what he had discovered." They'd set a time to meet tonight, to hear his plan and this was it? To steal the riches from someone else?

Beldren spoke up, "What good would come from such a course? What will you do with the goods you steal?" He looked to their companions, Patrick and Duncan. "What say you?"

"The merchandise could be taken to the frontier," Duncan replied slowly.

"Or kept for ourselves," Patrick suggested.

"What would the frontiersman give us for them? What use have they for fine things? What use have we?" Beldren made an irritated noise. "The promises of such a life here, across the sea, were lies."

"They are only lies if one waits for good fortune to be handed out," Matthias insisted. "Those who came before us-"

"Those who came before us were given the things they were promised. Land, money. When my servitude expired I was given ten bushels of corn, a set of clothes, and a musket. I was wished good luck, and told to settle 'away.'. The land owners are unwilling to part with a parcel of their domain, and they desire the competition we might create even less."

"Yes, yes," Matthias said impatiently. "This is why Bacon led his rebellion, and it illustrates the need for us to take with our own hands those things which should have been bestowed upon us. I tell you, I have found a way; a mansion, packed full of wonders such as you have never beheld."

"You might be surprised what I have seen," Beldren muttered.

Duncan smiled. "Or what you wish us to believe you've seen. You are our imitation lord, giving one pretense that you come from good stock, but never proving the truth of such assumptions. You are as common as we, and it is this commonality that makes us brothers."

Patrick nodded enthusiastically. "As brothers we should put such matters to a vote. I want to hear more of this 'mansion of wonders'."

Duncan nodded his agreement, and Matthias visibly puffed up. "The mansion is of brick, with wide windows glass imported from England. Inside, the gilt gleams from mirrors, and silk hangs on the walls. Of the family, there are no men folk, only three women."

Beldren choked mid drink. "Three women? Now I know you are daft. There is no such place in all of Virginia! How could three women survive on their own? How could they cross the ocean unaccompanied?"

"I did not say they were alone," Matthias replied testily. "They hold n***o slaves and three white indentured, but I feel they would be no threat to us. They have a haunted look in their eyes and wounds. No slave will protect a master who treats them poorly."

Duncan rubbed his chin. "The indentured might, with the hope that they will collect the promised corn and clothes at the end of their contract."

"Aye." Patrick poured himself another cup of cider and offered the pitcher to Beldren. "If they stand idly by and allow us to take all that their masters have, then it will leave them with nothing."

"They will have nothing when their contract is done," Beldren replied. "Still, I agree. The plan is folly."

Matthias paced before the fireplace, his brows knit in aggravation. "It took two weeks for me to discover that the stories were true, to find the mistresses and their mansion, to learn the lay of the land and the arrangement of their estate, and now you say it is folly?"

"I said it was folly before you left to scout out the truth," Beldren replied. "If such a household existed, ripe for the picking, do you not think it would have already been plucked?"

"It is there," Duncan argued. "Matthias saw it, unless you cast doubt on his veracity?"

"I cast doubt on his sobriety." Beldren snickered, then grew serious. "No doubt the situation appeared as Matthias has described, but truth and perception are not always the same. There are men a'plenty there. Though not immediately discernable to the eye, mark my words they exist. Perhaps out on a hunting excursion, or managing the slaves in the field, or assisting a neighbor, or participating in any number of reasonable occupations. If we attempt this, we will arrive only to be killed."

"We will not be killed. I swear on my life, and the lives of my children and their children that no men make up the principle household. Three women only. We will meet with no resistance."

Patrick c****d an eyebrow. "You have no children."

"My future children then."

Beldren shook his head. "Once we are killed, you will have no future children."

"Have faith in me," Matthias insisted. "I have planned our adventure to the letter."

Beldren muttered and downed the last of his cider. I hope you've planned our funerals.

***

Reconnaissance had taken Matthias two weeks, but the journey took only two days on foot. "They have horses," he promised again and again. It was one more thing they could steal. One more thing they were owed.

By midafternoon on the second day, the property came into view. The brick house stood two storied with the promised glass windows. Around it stretched huts and buildings of varying sizes, barns, slave quarters, a building to house the indentureds, and all the implements needed for tobacco farming and drying. Dark skinned slaves were hard at work. Beldren noted their thick corded muscles and imagined the damage they could do.

Will do, he corrected. This was one venture he doubted he could talk his way out of.

Their plan involved cover of darkness, so Matthias led them down into a ravine. A creek snaked through the bottom, lined in pebbles, while tree roots hung down the dirt walls like vines.

They shared a late lunch of dry bread. Matthias and Duncan dreamed of the delicious foods they would eat once they had taken all from the sisters as Duncan had so termed them. Beldren looked to Patrick for sense, but it was useless. He laughed along with the pair and, though his dreams seemed more jest than real, his eyes glowed with the same hope.

Beldren turned to his musket. He cleaned the firearm and let his mind wander to days before gunpowder and the frontier. London had been crowded and noisy, thick with the smell of man and beast, then with death. Seven months after his father died in the Great Plague, his mother was taken in the Great Fire. Orphaned, he'd bounced back and forth between relatives and those willing to take him in exchange for work. It was only luck that landed him at his Uncle Sweeney's door. The lessons had been hard but, with the aid of the hornbook and his uncle's switch, he'd settled down and learned to read and write. Math followed, then etiquette. Soon he was ready to take on the world.

Or to pretend he could.

That was something else his uncle had taught him. Together they'd carried off some sizeable swindles from pretending to be royal blood, to impersonating a doctor and his assistant. That was why Beldren had needed the education; how else could Sweeney pass him off as a child of breeding? The best swindles were aimed at widow women with money and, thanks to the ravages of the plague, there were many to be had. Beldren's eighteenth summer had been spent at the country estate of just such a noble lady. That was when he'd met her.

The memory of summersweet tickled his nose, and he pushed the thoughts away. Better to rest and prepare than to idly live in fancies of the past.

No matter how sweet they were.