Part 41 (1/2)
Though he didn't particularly care for Bidwell, Matthew couldn't help but feel little sad for him. ”I'm sorry.”
”Sorry?” Bidwell snapped. ”Why?” He thrust his food-streaked chin forward. ”Sorry because I'm a success? A self-made man? Sorry because I am rich, that I have built this house and this town and there is more building yet to be done? Because Fount Royal will become a center of maritime trade? Or because at long last the weather has cleared and the spirits of my citizens will rise accordingly?” He jabbed another piece of potato with his knife and pushed it into his mouth. ”I think, ” he said as he chewed, ”that the only thing you're sorry for is the impending execution of that d.a.m.ned witch, because you won't be able to get up her skirt!” A wicked thought struck him and made his eyes glint. ”Ah ha! Perhaps that's where you were all night! Were you in the gaol with her? I wouldn't doubt it! Preacher Jerusalem told me about you striking him yesterday!” He gave a dark grin. ”What, did a blow upon the preacher earn you a blow from the witch?”
Matthew slowly put down his knife and spoon. Flames were burning behind his face, but he said coldly, ”Preacher Jerusalem has his own intents toward Rachel. You may think as you please, but be aware that he has put a ring through your nose.”
”Oh yes, of course he has! And she hasn't put a ring through yours, I suppose? Or perhaps she has put her kiss of approval on your b.a.l.l.s, is that it? I can see her now, on her knees, and you up close against those bars! Oh, that's a precious sight!”
”I had a precious sight of my own last night!” Matthew said, the flames beginning to burn through his self-control. ”When I went out to the-” He stopped himself before the words could flow. He'd been on the verge of telling Bidwell about Winston's escapade and the buckets of infernal fire, but he was not going to be goaded to spill his knowledge before he was ready. He stared down at his plate, a muscle working in his jaw.
”I never met a young man so full of pepper and manure as you, ” Bidwell went on, calmer now but oblivious to what Matthew had been about to say. ”If it were up to you, my town would be a witch's haven, wouldn't it? You'd even defy your own poor, sick master to save that woman's flesh from the fire! I think you ought to get to a monastery up there in Charles Town and become a monk to save your soul. Either that, or go to a bawdy-house and f.u.c.k the doxies 'til your eyeb.a.l.l.s blow out.”
”Mr. Rawlings, ” Matthew said, his voice strained.
”Who?”
”Mr. Rawlings, ” he repeated, realizing he had set one foot into the mora.s.s. ”Do you know that name?”
”No. Why should I?”
”Mr. Danforth, ” Matthew said. ”Do you know that name?”
Bidwell scratched his chin. ”Yes, I do. Oliver Danforth is the harbormaster in Charles Town. I have had some trouble with him, in getting supplies through. What of him?”
”Someone mentioned the name, ” Matthew explained. ”I hadn't met anyone by that name, so I wondered who he might be.”
”Who mentioned him?”
Matthew saw ahead of him a maze taking shape, and he must quickly negotiate out of it. ”Mr. Paine, ” he said. ”It was before I went into the gaol.”
”Nicholas, eh?” Bidwell frowned. ”That's odd.”
”Is it?” Matthew's heart gave a thump.
”Yes. Nicholas can't stand the sight of Oliver Danforth. They've had some arguments over the supply situation, therefore I've been sending Edward to deal with him. Nicholas goes along too, to protect Edward from harm on the road, but Edward is far better a diplomat. I don't understand why Nicholas should be talking about Danforth to you.”
”It wasn't to me, exactly. It was a name I overheard.”
”Oh, you have big ears too, is that it?” Bidwell grunted and finished off his drink. ”I should have guessed!”
”Mr. Winston seems a valuable and loyal man, ” Matthew ventured. ”Has he been with you very long?”
”Eight years. Now what're all these questions about?”
”My curiosity, that's all.”
”Well for Christ's sake, rein it in! I've had enough of it!” He pushed himself up from his seat in preparation to leave.
”Please indulge me just a minute longer, ” Matthew said, also standing up. ”I swear before G.o.d I won't bother you with any further questions if you'll just answer a few more.”
”Why? What is you wish to know about Edward?”
”Not about Mr. Winston. About the spring.”
Bidwell looked as if he wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. ”The spring? Have you lost your senses altogether?”
”The spring, ” Matthew repeated firmly. ”I'd like to know how it came to be found, and when.”
”You're serious, aren't you? Lord, you really are!” Bidwell started to blast at Matthew, but all the air seemed to leave him before he could gather himself. ”You have worn me out, ” he admitted. ”You have absolutely tattered my rag.”
”Humor me, as it is such a beautiful morning, ” Matthew said steadfastly. ”I repeat my promise not to plague you again, if you'll tell me how you came to find the spring.”
Bidwell laughed quietly and shook his head. ”All right, then. You must know that, in addition to royally funded explorers, there are men for hire who will carry out private explorations for individuals or companies. It was one of these that I contracted to find a settlement area with a fresh water source at least forty miles south of Charles Town. I stressed the fact that access to the sea was needed, yet a direct seafront was not necessary. I could drain a marsh, therefore the presence of such was tolerable. I also needed an abundance of hardwood and an area defensible from pirates and Indian raiders. When the proper place was found- this place-I presented the findings and my plans to the royal court, whereupon I waited two months for a grant to purchase the land.”
”It was given readily?” Matthew asked. ”Or did anyone attempt to block the grant?”
”Word had gotten to Charles Town. A coalition of their paid magpies swooped in and tried to dissuade the transaction, but I was already ahead of them. I had greased so many palms I could be called an oil pot, and I even added free giltwork to the yacht of the colonial administrator so he might turn heads on his jaunts up and down the Thames.”
”But you hadn't visited this area before you made the purchase?”
”No, I trusted Aronzel Hearn. The man I'd hired.” Bidwell took his snuffbox from his coat pocket, opened it, and noisily sniffed a pinch. ”I saw a map, of course. It suited my needs, that's all I had to know.”
”What of the spring?”
”What of it, boy?” Bidwell's patience was fraying like a rope rubbing splintered wood.
”I know the land was mapped, ” Matthew said, ”but what of the spring? Did Hearn take a sounding of it? How deep is it, and from where does the water come?”
”It comes from... I don't know. Somewhere.” Bidwell took another sniff. ”I do know there are other smaller springs out in the wilderness. Solomon Stiles has seen them, and drunk from them, on his hunting trips. I suppose they're all connected underground. As far as the depth is concerned...” He stopped, with his snuff-pinched fingers poised near his nostrils. ”Now that's strange, ” he said.
”What is?”
”Speaking of the spring like this. I remember someone else asking me similar questions.”
At once Matthew's bloodhound sense came to full alert. ”Who was it?”
”It was... a surveyor who came to town. Perhaps a year or so after we began building. He was mapping the road between Charles Town and here, and wished to map Fount Royal as well. I recall he was interested in the depth of the spring.”
”So he took a sounding?”
”Yes, he did. He'd been set upon by Indians several miles from our gate. The savages had stolen all his instruments, therefore I had Hazelton fas.h.i.+on him a rope with a sounding weight tied at the end. I also had a raft built for him, that he might take his measurements from various areas of the fount.”
”Ah, ” Matthew said quietly, his mouth dry. ”A surveyor without instruments. Do you know if he discovered the spring's depth?”
”As I remember, the deepest point was found to be some forty feet.”
”Was this surveyor travelling alone?”
”He was alone. On horseback. I recall he told me he had left the savages playing with his bag, and he felt lucky to escape with his hair. He had a full beard too, so I expect they might have sheared his face off to get it.”
”A beard, ” Matthew said. ”Was he young or old? Tall or short? Fat or thin?”