osc.am2.redprophet-第64部分
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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
