to his bed.'
'But you didn't sell it?' Matthew asked.
'Oh, I sold it all right. To the highest bidder. I had no choice, the records being as they were. My father raged like a tiger. He called me a fool and a weakling, and vowed he would hate me to his grave and beyond for destroying his business.' Bidwell paused to swig from the tankard. 'But I paid off the debtors and settled all accounts. I put food on our table and bought medicine for my sister, and I found I had a small amount of money left. There was a small marine carpentry shop that advertised for investors, as they were expanding their workplace. I decided to put every last shilling I had into it, so I might have some influence over the decisions. My family name was already known, of course. The greatest problem I first faced was in raising more money to put into the business, which I did by laboring at other jobs and also by some bluffing at the gaming tables. Then there were the small-thinkers to be gotten rid of, those men who let caution be their rulers and so never dared to win for fear of losing.'
Bidwell chewed on bone marrow, his eyes hooded. 'One of those men, unfortunately, had his name above the workplace door. He was too concerned with inches, while I thought in terms of leagues. He saw marine carpentry, while I saw shipbuilding.
Thus—though he was thirty years older than me, and had built the shop from its beginnings—I knew the pasture belonged to him, but the future was mine. I set out to procure business that I knew he would not condone. I prepared profit statements and cost predictions, down to the last timber and nail, which I then presented to a meeting of the craftsmen. My question to them was: did they wish to take a risk of a great future under my guidance, or did they wish to continue their current plodding path under Mr. Kellingsworth? Two of them voted to throw me out the door. The other four—including the master draftsman— voted to take on the new work.'
'And Mr. Kellingsworth?' Matthew raised his eyebrows. 'I'm sure he had something to say?'
'At first he was mute with anger. Then... I think he was relieved, because he didn't want the mantle of responsibility. He wanted a quiet life far removed from the specter of failure that haunted his successes.' Bidwell nodded. 'Yes, I think he'd been searching for a way to that pasture for a long time, but he needed a push. I gave it to him, along with a very decent buyout settlement and a percentage of future income... to decrease with the passage of time, of course. But my name was on the placard above the door. My name and my name only. That was the starting of it.'
'I expect your father was proud of you.'
Bidwell was silent, staring at nothing though his eyes were fierce. 'One of the first things I purchased with my profits was a pair of wooden legs, ' he said. 'The finest wooden legs that could be made in all of England. I took them to him. He looked at them. I said I would help him learn to walk. I said I would hire a specialist to teach him.' Bidwell's tongue emerged, and he slowly licked his upper lip. 'He said... he would not wear them if I had bought him a pair of real legs and could bind them solid again. He said I could take them to the Devil, because that is where a traitor was destined to burn.' Bidwell pulled in a long breath and let it go. 'And those were the final words he ever spoke to me.'
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 damned 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 balls, 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 fuck the doxies 'til your eyeballs blow out.'
'Mr. Rawlings, ' Matthew said, his voice strained.
'Who?'
'Mr. Rawlings, ' he repeated, realizing he had set one foot into the morass. '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 God 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
