Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (96 page)

Tayler snorted, shook his head. “Many of us disagree with you on this, Governor.”

“Disagree, you may, Master Tayler, but the policy stands . . . and that is the end of
this
discussion. And with regard to slackers, the situation is simple. We cannot and will not tolerate them, and I therefore expect all of you to inform me and Lieutenant Waters of such offenders, so we may appropriately reduce their rations.”

Tayler glanced around the room, appeared to discern little support, silently returned his persistent glower to Baylye.

Baylye nodded at Waters. “Now we shall discuss a most grave matter. Lieutenant Waters will provide the background.”

Waters stepped forward, glanced at each Assistant, then fixed an onerous gaze on Tayler. He felt simultaneous bursts of excitement and anxiety at what was to come, knew, for better or worse, it would have an abiding impact on the effectiveness of the Assistants and the colony as a whole. “As Thomas Colman lay dying, I spoke to you of unspecified but disqualifying character flaws in Hugh Tayler.”

Tayler growled, “I protest.”

“Continue, Lieutenant,” Baylye said.

Waters nodded. “I shall now specify those flaws. The night of the shipwrecks, Master Tayler murdered Robert Wilkinson . . . murdered him to save himself. He forcibly pulled him from the board to which he clung for his life, and shoved him away to drown.”

Tayler shouted, “Waters, you’re a lying knave! You’ve no evidence, only the lies of one man who hates me.” He looked at the other Assistants. “Do not believe him. He seeks only to discredit me for selfish purposes, and—”

“I speak but the truth, gentlemen—the truth provided by Sergeant Myllet, who witnessed the event.” He took a deep breath, again looked at
each man. “The next charge against Master Tayler is well known by several of our soldiers, including me.”

“Fie, Waters, you lying churl.” He clenched his fists, took a step toward Waters.

Waters gripped the pistol at his waist, dared Tayler with his eyes, hoped he’d advance so he could end it there, but Tayler stopped. Waters glared at him, again challenged with his eyes. “Before leaving England, Master Tayler abandoned his wife and two children and escaped to the colony only by evading the high sheriff who sought him with a warrant for non-support.”

Soft murmurs floated around the room like parishioners’ whispers before Mass.

“Damn you, Waters, this is a sham.” He looked at the others, shook his head repeatedly. “Do
not
believe him.”

Waters’ hand remained on his pistol. “Enough, Tayler. You’re out of order. Any more and we shall have to remove you.”

Tayler’s right cheek twitched, and he nervously shuffled his feet as he stared angrily at his followers.

“And last, as we set sail from England, another high sheriff arrived at the pier with a warrant for Master Tayler’s arrest, this time for rape and murder.”

Most Assistants shook their heads in disgust, while Willes, Sampson, and Stevens glanced skittishly at one another.

“And he’s here today because of the treachery of our ship’s pilot, Fernandez, who disregarded Governor White’s order to stay the ship’s departure and hand him over.” Waters marveled at how quickly he’d come to despise this man. Would that I could disclose the conspiracy now; but too soon, need
real
proof rather than suspicion and conjecture to hang him. Now that the men know, mayhap we’ll catch him at his game. But it must be soon. He nodded at Baylye. “Governor.”

Tayler watched Baylye, shuffled his feet, frequently glanced at his supporters.

Baylye eyed Waters, communicated something with his eyes, then looked at the other Assistants, spoke with a slight flicker in his voice. “So, now that you’ve all heard the truth about Hugh Tayler, you understand our
misgivings the night of Tayler’s election; and because that election occurred under false pretenses, or at best, misconceptions of his character, I now declare that election void and John Stilman the new Assistant.”

Tayler laughed out loud. “You can’t do this, Baylye.”

Willes, Stevens, and Sampson booed. Willes said, “You can’t overturn our vote, Governor. ’Twas done in good faith, and you’re
not
a king.”

Baylye lifted a paper from the table, held it up so all could see. “No, I’m not a king; but this document, our charter from Sir Walter Raleigh, expressly bestows upon the governor of this colony the power to remove Assistants he considers unfit to represent the best interests of the colony. And based on what you’ve just heard, Hugh Tayler is plainly unfit; I therefore declare him no longer a member of this body.” He looked squarely at Tayler. “Master Tayler, you must now leave.”

Tayler shouted over the din of cheers and protests, “I refuse, Baylye! Now what?”

Waters walked slowly to the door, admitted Sergeant Smith and two other soldiers. They walked to Tayler, seized him by the arms, and pulled him toward the door.

Tayler shook loose; his cronies surrounded him, held the soldiers away from him.

Waters pulled his pistol, cocked the hammer, aimed at Tayler’s head. “Now, Tayler! Now!”

Stevens grabbed Tayler’s arm, looked him in the eyes, shook his head.

Tayler thought for a moment then nodded at his men before looking at Waters and Baylye and flipping his middle finger at them as he walked out the door.

Sampson said. “Governor Baylye, we’ll not be party to this treachery.” He turned toward the door, beckoned Willes and Stevens to follow.

Almost to the door, Willes stopped, turned, glared threateningly at those who had voted for Tayler in the election. All had ashy, milksop faces, shuffled their feet, but held fast. Willes nodded three times, turned, started out the door.

As he exited, Baylye said, “You men depart of your own free will, and I remind you that any measures passed by those who remain will be binding.
I further remind you that if you willfully miss another meeting of this council, you will be permanently removed.”

When they had left, Baylye turned to those who remained. “Men, I am obliged to tell you there is more at play here than meets the eye—things that must, for now, remain undisclosed. But I beseech you to resist any approach or threat from those who just departed, or their surrogates. Please be vigilant for seditious behavior and be prepared to protect yourselves. I fear perilous times lie ahead.”

Ananias Dare beseeched Baylye and Waters with a pleading expression. “Verily, Roger, can you not disclose what begets your fears?”

“I cannot, Ananias, not yet, but I believe the time will soon arrive. And I promise you—all of you—that when it does, I shall do so immediately.”

All but Baylye and Waters then slowly and silently filed out the door, each carrying with him a look of baleful apprehension. Waters closed the door, faced Baylye. “Governor, I fear things deteriorate faster than expected. We must be clever and thorough in determining the loyalty of every person in this colony. Tayler and his men mean to destroy it, and they’ll buy or intimidate the weak and malleable among us to do so.”

Baylye nodded, pondered for a moment. “I wonder if Walsingham’s promised to rescue them.” He shook his head, pounded his fist on the tabletop. “My God, does it not anger you what men do for power?”

“Aye, it does, Sir, and I have the same question about Walsingham. I also fear we’re dealing with something far bigger than we thought.” The two stared quietly at one another, absorbed their words, contemplated their implications. “Perhaps we should build a jail—a sound jail—several stocks, as well. ’Tis true there is nowhere to escape to here, but I sense the time has come to remove conspirators and other criminals from contact with the populace—isolate them, limit their influence, and reduce the damage they can do. What say you, Sir?”

“I say that’s a splendid idea—one whose necessity saddens me, but a necessity nonetheless. Have you—”

Someone knocked on the door.

Baylye said, “Who is it?”

“Ananias.”

“Come in.”

Ananias wore an anxious look as he entered the cottage; he glanced behind to see if anyone watched, then looked at Baylye. “Roger, I must inform you of something Elyoner told me. It may be pertinent to your concerns.”

Waters and Baylye eyed each other quickly. “What is it?”

After Ananias related what Elyoner had told him of her father’s suspicions about Walsingham and Tayler, Baylye said, “William, I think we have a new confidant.”

“Indeed, we do. Ananias, have a seat while we tell you what’s amiss.”

Emme Merrimoth and Emily held their capes and hoods tightly around them, panting as they trudged through six-inch-deep snow toward the Chesapeake village. Each step produced a squeaky crunch in the dry snow, like a creaky old rocking chair in motion; while each breath blew a white cloud, like a fire-eater’s flame, in front of them. Emily squinted, shielded her eyes with rag-wrapped hands as the sun suddenly slipped from behind a cloud, elegantly decorated the snow with dazzling sparkles of red, green, yellow, and blue. Beautiful, she thought, as if God crushed a handful of gemstones into thousands of grains of sparkling sand and sprinkled them over the snow. Oh, look at that . . . ’tis like a crystal . . . colors change when you move your head. She shifted her head sideways then back again, giggled with delight.

Emme laughed. “Emily Colman, pray tell, what are you doing?”

Emily giggled again. “Being a little girl. That’s what. Look at that, Emme. Move your head back and forth . . . see how the sparkles change colors?”

Emme copied her movements. “Oh, I see what you mean—so many colors. Aw! Come back, sun! Pity . . . brief but beautiful, eh?”

“Indeed, like so many things in life.” Like George . . . and Isna . . . and Father. But at least it put a smile on my face for a moment, and . . . fie, today is the fifth day, the day I must go to him. Don’t think about it. But, Em, you
must
think about it, must think of Virginia and decide what to do. She
shivered as she imagined his hands on her naked body, touching, probing. No! Not now. Lord, let me have a moment of peace.

“and Johnny says Tayler’s an unsavory sort, and he worries about you whenever he sees you with him. He’s quite convinced you don’t see him by choice, but—”

“What does he say, Emme?”

“Says he can’t tell me . . . but he’s certain Tayler somehow compels you, and he’s quite concerned.”

“I like Johnny very much—a good, honest man, he is—and I’ve noticed
you
like him, as well.” Her smile invited a response.

Emme grinned coyly. “I do indeed, Em. We’ve grown quite close . . . don’t have much time together because of his duties, but we savor what we have . . . even talked about—”

“About what?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course.” Her own dreadful secrets flashed through her mind.

“I’m not supposed to say anything, but . . . we’ve talked about marriage . . . he doesn’t want anyone to know, says he has enemies who would hurt
me
to hurt
him
. So please don’t tell anyone, Em, especially—” She looked suddenly frightened.

“Especially Tayler?”

“Yes.”

Emily nodded. “Be certain. I won’t.”

Emme stopped, held Emily’s hands. “Emily, Johnny’s desperately afraid for you. He thinks Tayler has . . . has used you in an improper way . . . by force . . . like he did Johnny’s sister, but—”

“You know about Johnny’s sister?”

“Aye, I do. He’s told me about her many times—still grieves, mind you—and seems frightened when he talks about Tayler. Says he’s a coward and extortionist who will do
anything
or hurt
anyone
to gain what he wants, as long as he can do so without risking himself.” Emme’s misty green eyes saddened but then sparkled in a sudden burst of sunlight. “Emily, I fear for Johnny . . . and for you . . . but I pray every day those fears are unfounded.”

Emily shook her head. “I fear they are not, Emme.”

After a few silent steps, Emme said, “Emily, you’ve . . . you’ve seemed to be carrying a weighty burden these last weeks. I know you would tell me of it if you could; so know that when you’re able, I . . . I will share it with you and help you in any way I can.”

Emily smiled, hugged her. “Thank you, Emme. You’re a good friend . . . and a patient one.”

Emme kissed her on the cheek. “We’d better move along before we freeze, eh?”

“Aye. My toes are already numb . . . fingers, too. Would that the ungracious sun would share its warmth with us and—ahhhh! Snow keeps packing into my shoes, and . . . and my legs are frozen. Why are we out here in skirts?”

“Because we’re women, I suppose. I’ve never worn a pair of breeches, have you?”

“Certainly not, though at this moment, I wish I could.”

As they proceeded toward the village, Emily heard Emme speaking but didn’t hear her words. Her mind dwelt instead on the chilling implications of Tayler’s kerchief in Virginia’s crib, her dearth of choices, and the inevitability of the most repugnant among them. Yet ’tis true. It must come to pass . . .
’twill
come to pass . . . though I dread it more than death itself. But how can I give myself to a rapist and murderer, a man who deserted his wife and children? Adultery is a grave sin, and ’twill condemn me to hell for eternity. God help me, what shall I do? No choice before me is without grave sin. Mayhap I can delay him again, make him believe I
will
take my own life if his demands are too great. Perhaps I should do more than threaten . . . perhaps I should end this horrible dream now . . . hang myself . . . or cut my own throat. Yet if I take my life, I shall also take my child’s life, and I cannot do that. So I must now live for my child and no other—not me, not even Isna . . . nothing else matters. But what will God think of me, and Father, and Mother, and George . . . and Isna when he sees me with child . . . Tayler’s whore? Perchance he’ll return to his people before then. A cloud of sorrow drifted through her mind like a downy feather floating on a soft breeze. I shall never see him again . . . my Isna. What if I should see him today in the village? What will I do? Oh, my soul. She
reached into her apron pocket, touched her mother’s letter. Would that I had my locket, as well. Mother, forgive me.