osc.am2.redprophet- 第64节

　　
　　On　the　eve　of　such　momentous　events；　my　dear　Freddie；　I　think　you　should　wear　this　amulet。　It　was　given　me　by　a　holy　man　to　fend　the　lies　and　deceptions　of　Satan。　Wear　it　at　all　times；　my　friend；　for　I　think　your　need　for　it　is　greater　far　than　mine。
　　
　　Freddie　need　not　know　that　the　〃holy　man〃　was　Robespierre　　de　Maurepas　would　certainly　never　wear　it　then。　Gilbert　drew　the　amulet　from　the　bosom　of　his　shirt；　where　it　dangled　on　a　golden　chain。　What　will　de　Maurepas　do　when　Napoleon　has　no　power　over　him？　Why；　he　will　act　his　true　self　again；　that　is　what　he　will　do。
　　Gilbert　had　sat　thus　for　half　an　hour；　knowing　that　the　time　of　decision　had　arrived。　The　amulet　would　not　be　sent　yet　　only　at　the　cusp　of　events　would　Napoleon　suddenly　lose　his　influence　over　Freddie。　But　the　letter　to　the　King　must　be　sent　now；　if　there　was　to　be　time　for　it　to　reach　Versailles；　and　the　inevitable　response　to　return　to　Canada　before　the　springtime　battle　with　the　Americans。
　　Am　I　a　traitor；　to　work　for　the　defeat　of　my　King　and　country？　No；　I　am　not；　most　certainly　I　am　not。　For　if　I　thought　it　would　do　my　beloved　France　even　an　ounce　of　good；　I　would　help　Napoleon　win　his　victory　over　the　Americans；　even　if　it　meant　crippling　the　cause　of　liberty　in　this　new　land。　For　though　I　am　a　Feuillant；　a　democrat；　even　a　Jacobin　in　my　darkest　heart；　and　even　though　my　love　for　America　is　greater　than　that　of　any　man　save　perhaps　Franklin　or　Washington；　who　are　dead；　or　Jefferson　among　the　living　　despite　all　that；　I　am　a　Frenchman　first；　and　what　care　I　for　liberty　in　any　corner　of　God's　world；　if　there　is　none　in　France？
　　No；　I　do　this　because　a　terrible；　humiliating　defeat　in　Canada　is　exactly　what　France　needs；　especially　if　it　can　be　seen　that　the　defeat　is　caused　by　King　Charles's　direct　intervention。　Such　a　direct　intervention　as　removing　popular　and　brilliant　Bonaparte　from　mand　on　the　eve　of　battle；　and　replacing　him　with　an　ass　like　de　Maurepas；　all　for　the　sake　of　Charlie's　own　vanity。
　　For　there　was　one　last　letter；　this　one　in　code；　seemingly　innocuous　in　its　babbling　about　hunting　and　the　tedium　of　life　in　Niagara。　But　hidden　within　it　was　the　entire　text　of　both　Napoleon's　and　Frederic's　letters；　to　be　published　to　withering　effect　as　soon　as　the　news　of　French　defeat　reached　Paris。　Almost　as　quickly　as　Napoleon's　original　letter　reached　the　King；　Robespierre　would　have　this　ciphered　letter　in　his　hands。
　　But　what　of　my　oath　to　the　king？　What　sort　of　plotting　is　this？　I　was　meant　to　be　a　general；　to　lead　armies　in　battle；　or　a　Governor；　to　move　the　machinery　of　state　for　the　good　of　the　people。　Instead　I　am　reduced　to　plotting；　backstabbing；　deception；　betrayal。　I　am　a　Brutus；　willing　to　betray　all　for　the　sake　of　a　loyalty　to　the　people。　And　yet　I　pray　that　history　will　be　kind　to　me；　and　let　it　be　known　that　but　for　me　King　Charles　would　have　called　himself　Charlemagne　Second　and　used　Napoleon　to　subjugate　Europe　in　a　new　French　Empire。　Instead；　with　God's　help；　because　of　me　France　will　set　an　example　of　peacefulness　and　liberty　to　all　the　world。
　　He　lit　his　wax　candle；　let　it　drip　to　fasten　closed　the　letter　to　the　King　and　the　letter　to　his　trusted　neighbor；　and　then　pressed　his　seal　into　both。　He　called　in　his　aide；　who　put　them　in　the　mail　pouch；　then　left　to　carry　them　to　the　ship　　the　last　ship　that　was　sure　to　make　it　down　the　river　and　on　to　France　before　winter。
　　Only　the　letter　to　de　Maurepas　remained；　that　and　the　amulet。　How　I　regret　having　you；　be　said　to　the　amulet。　If　only　I；　too；　could　have　been　deceived　by　Napoleon；　and　rejoiced　as　he　made　his　inevitable　way　into　history。　Instead　I　am　thwarting　him；　for　how　can　a　general；　be　he　as　brilliant　as　Caesar；　possibly　thrive　in　the　democracy　Robespierre　and　I　will　create　in　France？
　　All　seeds　are　planted；　all　traps　are　set。
　　For　another　hour　Gilbert　de　La　Fayette　sat　trembling　in　his　chair。　Then　he　arose；　dressed　in　his　finest　clothing；　and　spent　the　evening　watching　a　wretched　farce　by　a　fifth…rate　pany；　the　finest　that　poor　Niagara　could　get　from　Mother　France。　At　the　end　he　stood　and　applauded；　which；　because　he　was　Governor；　guaranteed　the　pany　financial　success　in　Canada；　applauded　long　and　vigorously；　as　the　rest　of　the　audience　was　forced　to　keep　applauding　with　him；　clapped　his　hands　until　his　arms　were　sore；　until　the　amulet　was　slick　with　sweat　on　his　chest；　until　he　felt　the　heat　of　his　exertion　burning　through　his　shoulders　and　back；　until　he　could　clap　no　more。
　　
　　
　　Chapter　17　　Becca's　Loom
　　
　　Winter'd　been　going　on　half　Alvin's　life；　it　seemed　like。　Used　to　be　he　liked　snowy　times；　peeking　out　his　window　through　the　craze　of　frost；　looking　at　the　sun　dazzling　off　the　smooth　unbroken　sea　of　snow。　But　then；　in　those　days　he　could　always　get　inside　where　it　was　warm；　eat　Ma's　cooking；　sleep　in　a　soft　bed。　Not　that　he　was　suffering　so　much　now；　what　with　learning　Red　ways　for　doing　things；　Alvin　wasn't　bad　off。
　　It　had　just　been　going　on　for　too　many　months。　Almost　a　year　since　that　spring　morning　when　Alvin　set　out　with　Measure　for　the　trip　to　Hatrack　River。　That　had　seemed　such　a　long　journey　then；　now；　to　Alvin；　it　was　no　more　than　a　day's　jaunt　by　parison　with　the　traveling　he　had　done。　They　been　south　so　far　the　Reds　spoke　Spanish　more　than　English　when　they　talked　White　man　talk。　They　been　west　to　the　foggy　bottom　lands　near　the　Mizzipy。　They　talked　to　Cree…Ek；　Chok…Taw；　the　〃uncivilized〃　Cherriky　folk　of　the　bayou　country。　And　north　to　the　highest　reaches　of　the　Mizzipy　where　the　lakes　were　so　many　and　all　hooked　on　that　you　could　go　everywhere　by　canoe。
　　It　went　the　same　with　every　village　they　visited。　〃We　know　about　you；　Ta…Kumsaw；　you　e　to　talk　war。　We　don't　want　war。　But　if　the　White　man　es　here；　we　fight。〃
　　And　then　Ta…Kumsaw　explaining　that　by　the　time　the　White　man　es　to　their　village；　it's　too　late；　they'll　be　alone；　and　the　Whites　will　be　like　a　hailstorm；　pounding　them　into　the　dirt。　〃We　must　make　ourselves　into　one　army。　We　still　can　be　stronger　than　they　are　if　we　do。〃
　　It　was　never　enough。　A　few　young　men　would　nod；　would　wish　to　say　yes；　but　the　old　men；　they　didn't　want　war；　they　didn't　want　glory；　they　wanted　peace　and　quiet；　and　the　White　man　was　still　far　away；　still　a　rumor。
　　Then　Ta…Kumsaw　would　turn　to　Alvin；　and　say；　〃Tell　them　what　happened　at　Tippy…Canoe。〃
　　By　the　third　telling；　Alvin　knew　what　would　happen　when　he　told　the　tale　the　tenth　time；　the　hundredth　time；　every　time。　Knew　it　as　soon　as　the　Reds　seated　around　the　fire　turned　to　look　at　him；　with　distaste　because　he　was　White；　with　interest　because　he　was　the　White　boy　who　traveled　with　Ta…Kumsaw。　No　matter　how　simple　he　made　the　tale；　no　matter　how　he　included　the　fact　that　the　Whites　of　Wobbish　Territory　thought　that　Ta…Kumsaw　had　kidnapped　and　tortured　him　and　Measure；　the　Reds　still　listened　to　it　with　grief　and　grim　fury。　And　at　the　end；　the　old　men　would　be　gripping　handfuls　of　soil　in　their　hands；　tearing　at　the　ground　as　if　to　turn　loose　some　terrible　beast　inside　the　earth；　and　the　young　men　would　be　drawing　their　flint…edged　knives　gently　across　their　own　thighs；　drawing　faint　lines　of　blood；　teaching　their　knives　to　be　thirsty；　teaching　their　own　bodies　to　seek　out　pain　and　love　it。
　　〃When　the　snow　is　gone　from　the　banks　of　the　Hio；〃　said　Ta…Kumsaw。
　　〃We　will　be　there；〃　said　the　young　men；　and　the　old　men　nodded　their　consent。　The　same　in　every　village；　every　tribe。　Oh；　sometimes　a　few　spoke　of　the　Prophet　and　urged　peace；　they　were　scorned　as　〃old　women〃；　though　as　far　as　Alvin　could　see；　the　old　women　seemed　most　savage　of　all　in　their　hate。
　　Yet　Alvin　never　plained　that　Ta…Kumsaw　was　using　him　to　heat　up　anger　against　his　own　race。　After　all；　the　story　Alvin　had　to　tell　was　true；　wasn't　it？　He　couldn't　deny　to　tell　it；　not　to　anybody；　not　for　any　reason；　no　more　than　his　family　could　deny　to　speak　under　the　Prophet's　curse。　Not　that　blood　would　appear　on　Alvin's　hands　if　he　refused　to　tell。　He　just　felt　like　the　same　burden　was　on　him　like　it　was　on　all　the　Whites　who　beheld　the　massacre　at　Tippy…Canoe。　The　story　of　Tippy…Canoe　was　true；　and　if　every　Red　who　hear