AUDEAMUS
Chapter 23
In the Swan gardens, few eyes would be able to scrutinize Major Collins as he strolled the walkway with Miss Isabella Swan. It was good weather; the rains had all but ceased and spring was bursting at the seams. The gardens had, little by little, regained their color after the brush of winter, and Bella soon knew that she'd be able to once more venture into Raven's Grove.
"James," Bella said, blushing at the familiarity they treated one another with. She held onto his arm as they walked in relative silence, taking in the birdsong and stillness of the morning, escaping the frowns of the servants and her father. The only one who had been civil to Collins had been Renée Swan.
"Hmm?" he mumbled, deep in thought.
Bella stopped him, both standing on the gravel, the bushes sharp and stark with small buds of green made up the canopy. "I am not blind to…to how people treat you in Hayes since I returned from Zafra."
The tall soldier turned her way, the set of his mouth firm, his blond hair pulled away from his sharp and defined features. Icy blue eyes regarded her for a moment as if in deep thought.
"It is my duty to command the garrison and the Royal Guard before anything. I must sometimes sacrifice my relationship with the people for that endeavor, can you understand that?"
"They say…" she began, uncomfortable at having to even mention it. But a part of her needed to know what Collins' agenda was. "That Captain Forster has apprehended several men."
"They are people suspected of making up a part of Cullen's band," Collins defended.
Bella frowned. "Five men have been taken into the garrison and gallows are being built in the square, James. Yet, I do not hear that a trial is in place…not even a hearing."
"It is easy to see the world in black and white. These men have been discovered with placing frightening and threatening messages for Forster and me in the garrison and even for the mayor. They have also been giving food to the rebels in Raven's Grove."
Bella turned to watch the weeping willow, brought back to that fateful encounter almost a year ago. Reminded that it had, in fact, been Edward Masen all the time, irked her further.
"If you send those men to the gallows, Hayes will not stand for it," she warned. "James, the situation is escalating. Already some northern towns have revolted and been subdued violently by their local militia. If things don't get better here, Hayes could end up the same."
In northern Angloa, some towns, backed by a rogue general named Harvey Adams, had gone against their local government in protest, especially against the Royal Guard who took advantage of their position of power. Alas, those same towns had been subdued by the militia sent by the king and his advisors, effectively silencing any protests and incarcerating almost a third of the people who had been caught protesting. The situation in Hayes looked to be heading in the same direction.
Collins stepped in and took her hands in his. "Will you trust me? Those men will not die, that I can promise you," he vowed.
Bella grew secure in his promise and felt that Collins proved himself. He was caught in a dangerous situation. She suspected Forster had some hold over him, which was why he had not been able to speak out or even stop him before.
"I believe we must head back," she said, noting her father standing by the end of the gardens, watching them with a frown upon his face.
"Do you have another engagement?" Collins asked.
"I am taking a carriage promenade with Mr. and Mrs. Hale and Mr. Masen," she said beaming. "The first of the season!"
They started moving toward her father. "Mr. Masen?" Collins mumbled. "And, pray, do you find his company to be agreeable?"
Bella turned with her eyebrows reaching her hairline and a smile etching its way onto her lips. "You cannot seriously be jealous of Mr. Masen!" she laughed, making Collins blush.
"I merely wished to inquire—"
"Nonsense, you consider Mr. Masen a rival," she laughed. Yet, deep inside, Bella thought her heart might stop. What if Collins suspected Edward Masen somehow had ties with Cullen? That would not do at all. He had done a great job in building up the fop, but she realized a slip was all it took for someone to realize he was Cullen. Yes, Bella had spent much more time in both Cullen's and Masen's presence, she had a keen mind for details and piecing things together. But if she could figure out who hid behind the mask, she suspected others could as well, unless Edward took care.
"Isabella, I have the firmest belief that Edward Masen would not steal you away from me. Indeed, if such a thing were to happen, I'd leave the army and the Royal Guard," he blinked, joining in on her laugh.
"Bella," her father said with a frown, nearing them. "Mrs. Hale and the rest are already out in the carriage, I suggest you rush out to them," he commanded. Bella nodded and turned to Collins.
"Thank you for the promenade, it was refreshing," she smiled. Collins bowed and kissed the back of her hand. The young girl gathered the soft mint green skirts of her dress and walked past her father with a knowing smile.
The moment she was gone, Charles Swan straightened himself before Collins. "She is a lovely girl, Major Collins," he said awkwardly, with a hint of irritation to his voice.
Collins straightened out the dark green jacket of his uniform, still watching her leave. "That she is, sir."
"Sometimes, she does not know what is best for her," the father continued, placing his hands behind his back.
"Sir?" Collins furrowed his brow.
"I know what such intimate courtship eventually leads to. I want her to be happy, and while you make her smile now, I doubt it will remain that way in the future if things continue as they have with Hayes."
"With all due respect, Mr. Swan, I'd rather we not speak in riddles and be frank with each other," Collins said with a calm voice.
"You are thinking of making an offer of marriage to her," Charles stated. "That much is evident to me."
"I am, I have been for some time now."
"Then I must urge you, sir, to think again."
Collins' eyes darkened at such words, but he did not interrupt the gentleman before him.
"I do not believe a match between you and my daughter would be pertinent. She'd live removed from polite society after the scrutiny you are receiving from the townsfolk which, I must agree, I partake in. Your reign over Hayes equals more that of Forster's for each passing day—"
Collins shook his head and clenched his jaw. "I admire your daughter and believe she should make her own decision. As for the rest, you shouldn't be speaking of things you do not understand, Mr. Swan," the major urged. When Charles did not retort, Collins placed the hat atop his head and bowed. "I shall see myself out, Mr. Swan. Good morning to you."
"Those men are innocent, and you know it, Forster," Collins gritted through his teeth. He faced the desk where the captain lounged with his feet on the table, leaning back in the chair. The morning sun burrowed in through the window facing east. Forster had unbuttoned the top of his green jacket, playing with a small knife in his hand. He had great big circles under his eyes and his face was sunken-in from lack of sleep. He spent most nights looking for Cullen and going over who might be behind the mask.
What most took one in about the captain, however, was the big marking on his forehead. Ever since that fateful night at The Laughing Goose, Forster had been covering his forehead with a bandage, but it was exposed now, showing the scarring: the mark Cullen had left behind. A great big 'X' extended itself over the middle part of his forehead, still red and scarring. The slashes Cullen had delivered onto the captain's face would forever remain, constantly reminding the soldier of their encounter whenever he looked into the mirror.
"Of course they are, major." Forster looked bored, unmoved by his superior officer. "But their households have been known to provide the rebels with food during the winter and they have been caught leaving those pesky and pathetic letters here…well, that is what we will tell the townspeople. We must make an example of this."
"I cannot believe what I am hearing!" Collins growled. "You would hang five innocent young men? I will not allow—"
Forster placed his feet firmly on the ground and leaned over his desk. "Ah, but James. My good friend James; you do not get a say in this."
Collins pointed an accusing finger at him. "I do not care if you reveal who I really am," he shouted. "I will not let you do this," he said, gesturing with his finger on every word.
"I knew you'd say that," Forster sighed, his gray eyes digging into Collins'. "He thinks it's due time you met him," he said. "What a coincidence that you should bring this issue up."
"Meet who?"
"Corporal!" Forster shouted. A lancer rushed into the room.
"Captain?"
"He may come in," the captain said, moving to stand up. "He will make you see reason, Collins," Forster smiled.
Collins grew confused as to what Forster was referring to when, a few minutes later, the door opened, and he heard heavy footsteps. He turned around and was met by Mayor Wilson, standing polished as ever in fine garments and a wig atop his head with a black hat over it. His pudgy form pressed against the poor buttons of his gray coat that tried to desperately hold it together.
"Mr. Wilson?" Collins asked, astonished.
Wilson gave him a wink. "Come, come, Major Collins, be seated. No protocol on my account," he chuckled. "Forster you fiend, it looks like you've scared the major half to death!" the mayor exclaimed jovially.
He walked up to the desk and to the seat in which Forster had been sitting in previously.
Collins looked perplexed from Forster to Wilson, finally understanding that the two were in league. When he realized the mayor was the one protecting Forster, he paled as if he'd seen a ghost.
Wilson leaned forward. "I hear you have been protesting quite frequently against Captain Forster's decisions in running this garrison," he sighed. "I thought he'd spoken to you about this. You are a smart man, Collins. I was made to believe that the captain had worked out an understanding with you."
"Y-you have been the one ordering the taxations, the imprisonments—" Collins started.
Wilson put up a hand and shook his head. The mayor who had always appeared so friendly and approachable removed his mask and showed his true side. There was an emptiness and coldness in his eyes that unnerved Collins. A hunger for power and knowing that he had it all at the tip of his fingers. "Let us not get repetitive, my boy. These men need to be made an example of, my good Collins. I understand your protests, but the rebels have become a nuisance and we need to snuff them out. Making a statement is sometimes for the better good."
"I-I will not stand for this," Collins growled. "I do not care who knows about me, about what I did in Bordeaux!"
Wilson shook his head. "You are involved now, Collins. I still believe you could be an asset and partake in our operation. I know you, your type. I wouldn't have shown myself before you otherwise. You like power and wealth. That is why you cast aside that pesky past of yours and took the name of a dead officer. Collins, you chose a better life for yourself just as Forster and I have."
"I do not want power and riches, not like this," the major spat.
"Yet you did not hesitate when you changed uniforms with the real Captain Collins," Wilson remarked as he laced his fingers and rested his chin on them. Forster chuckled in the background, leaning with folded arms against the wall. "You did not exactly obtain your rank by normal means."
"I did not kill Collins for it," the major urged. "He was already dead when—" He stopped himself, reminded of that horrid day, of the cannon fire, of the smoke, of the cries of pain and fear.
"As I said, you have a taste for power, we all do," Wilson said. "Denying it would be lying to yourself. I am not asking you to kill those boys with your bare hands, let Forster do his. Collins, you will not have to lift a finger," Wilson assured him with an eerie smile. "Forster will do the dirty work, isn't that right, Forster?" Wilson chuckled, looking back at the captain.
"Very much so, sir," Forster smiled.
Collins rushed up and slammed both hands down on the desk, leaning forward to meet Wilson face to face. He had never been so disgusted with a human being as then. Maybe it was because he already had made up a picture of the mayor. Being let down thus broke him apart. "It ends here, for both of you. I care not if you drag me down in the muck and filth. But I will not bloody my hands with this!" Collins growled.
Wilson's clear eyes blackened with each second that passed. Forster's office settled into a suffocating silence and the golden sunlight that filtered into the room lost its warmth. Collins felt cold and naked under such a stare, barred before the mayor, standing before a demon from hell. There was no trace of humanity in Wilson's eyes, only death and such a frightening void that it produced a cold sweat in Collins.
"Then Miss Swan will have another unfortunate accident, and this time, she will not recover from it," the mayor spoke slowly, a cruel smile curling on his lips.
The blood in his veins froze to ice. Collins' hands curled into fists. He had no retort for what he had just heard.
"You wish to build a life here, with the woman you so publicly care for. I am very happy that you wish to stay in Hayes. But some rules need to be set and followed," Wilson started. "If you do not do as I ask, Isabella Swan will suffer for it."
Collins' eyes had glazed over with unshed tears, trapped by his conflicting emotions. "You are a monster," he stammered in a low and guttural voice, loaded with emotion, fear, and anguish.
"I am an opportunist, Major Collins," Wilson settled back. "Play your part in this affair and you will be greatly rewarded. I will, of course, not mention what would happen to both you and Miss Swan if my involvement in this were to come out. I do not believe I need to paint a clear picture of the suffering you'd both endure."
The major straightened up. He knew he'd be watched as of this moment. He knew there'd be no one to trust in. Because there was no way of knowing just who Wilson had in his pockets.
"I think it will be entertaining, don't you?" Wilson mumbled. "Can the great Cullen free five men from the garrison? I think he will find this challenge the most difficult one yet. Or," he turned around to the captain. "What say you Forster?" he exclaimed.
"He should return to the grave from which he came," the captain fumed, the thirst for blood emerging as he thought about the personal vendetta he had with the man in black.
"What a lovely day, I never understand how one can forget the delights of spring!" Alice exclaimed as the horses trotted down the small road into Raven's Grove. Bella had grown mesmerized by their ride, taken in by the delightful April weather.
"How tiresome, dear sister. Spring remains the same, tis your mind that forgets it each year and paints it up better than it is," Edward Masen drawled.
"Hush, Mr. Masen, do not downplay the delights of the greenery as it returns. I am as taken by it as Mrs. Hale and shall not have you ruin this wonderful moment," Bella retorted playfully as she breathed deeply. Her beloved forest beckoned her. In a few weeks, she'd be able to take April for a ride and bask in the light that the sun offered.
Edward scoffed but kept from saying much more.
"Raven's Grove is indeed a beauty," Jasper Hale agreed.
They had all gathered for the promenade. Alice had surprised Bella with a basket. They were going for the first picknick of the season and it brought a bright smile upon the brunette's features.
She knew the perfect spot and directed Joseph to take them there, skillfully managing the horses as they trotted down the road. Bella kept herself busy, not putting much attention on the fact that Edward Masen was sitting next to her—the same Edward Masen who would occasionally dress up as a ghost and play pranks on the Royal Guard of Hayes.
It was still hard to think Masen and Cullen were the same person. At certain moments she'd doubt herself as she saw the flash of his green eyes, dulled, bored. But, at times, when he believed no one watched, she saw the intensity in them.
They all ended up in a green meadow with sprouting flowers in yellows, reds, and whites covering it. The blankets were placed out, together with the contents of the straw baskets. Soon, they were eating an array of small cakes, cheeses, charcuterie, and drinking sweet wines. They spoke and laughed leisurely together, with little care for the problems that had been going on in their country and town for the last few months. Bella felt herself relax with people she could—for the first time—truly call her friends.
Alice and Jasper got up to take a stroll under the clear blue sky. Alice held her parasol high and directed her husband to a small cluster of trees. Bella would not be nosy enough nor naïve enough to imagine what whispers of affection and kisses were taking place there. Her heart grew warm at the companionship between the two.
"You must be uncomfortable, sir, sitting so stiffly upon this blanket," Bella Swan remarked, still not taking her eyes off from the meadow. Edward sat straight up, his nose up in the air as he sipped on a glass of wine. Joseph tended to the horses in the distance. It was only them and their conversation.
"A gentleman does not lounge," he answered with a bothered air.
She faced him with a half-smile. "Words of wisdom indeed, Mr. Masen," she said with a most profound air, mesmerized by his sentence. "To think this is the domain in which Cullen roams," she sighed, turning back once more and regarded nature.
"Does it…frighten you, miss?" he asked, slowly, casually. Bella smirked with her face turned away from him.
"Frighten me?" she asked.
Edward Masen's powdered visage leaned in slightly. "I am not a gossip, Miss Swan. To be talking about thieves and bandits so casually is beneath anyone of us. But—that being said—does Cullen frighten you?" he asked again.
"He does not," she answered, turning to face him. An arched eyebrow followed her statement.
"One would think that, after everything he has done in town, he'd at least—"
"I admire him."
Edward Masen stopped speaking. For the first time, she had managed to shut down his drawling dialogue and catch him by surprise.
"Admire him? An outlaw?"
"Well, I admire his feats, I did not say I admire the person. I imagine he could be quite vexing if I ever met him…in person," she chuckled.
"In what…way?" the man next to her asked. Edward seemed genuinely curious to know her answer. Of course, she knew that he knew that Bella Swan had already met Cullen several times.
"Oh, Mr. Masen, vexing in the most profound way! I imagine he thinks himself superior in the knowledge he holds over Hayes. I imagine he fancies himself an excellent fighter when most of his clashes with the blade could no doubt be attributed to cheap tricks and the element of surprise." She kept her regard away from him but saw him out of the corner of her eye. On the outside, he did not seem affected, but Bella saw the emerald orbs faintly burn in a familiar fashion. They gleamed and glittered much like they would beneath the mask.
"And I imagine he'd be uncivil—you know—as most outlaws are," she leaned forward to say. "A general nuisance," she chuckled.
Edward Masen, who was usually so quick to answer her with a witty or dry remark, remained silent.
"Of course, were I to compare him to someone like, say, Major Collins, he'd never stand a chance," she continued.
She could feel it now, his eyes digging into her in that familiar way. Edward had to restrain himself, mentally chastising himself into the role of the fop. But the more Bella Swan said, the more maddening it became to sit by the side and not defend himself against her remarks.
"I did not know you perceived him thusly," he answered with a strangled voice.
Bella's chocolate orbs regarded him. How naked he felt under those brown eyes as they pierced into his very soul—captivated him in an enthralling prison where she was the jailor. Edward's heart stopped; he felt his breath leave his chest, the sweats running cold under the ridiculous frilly clothes and starched cravat. She did not know the power she held over him. She couldn't possibly.
"That is how I've always perceived Cullen," she stated blatantly. "And have you not made similar remarks about him?" she asked.
He had but having them coming from her lips was like diving into scalding hot water. He thought they had some sort of understanding as Cullen and Swan. It seemed not. She was as displeased with him as Cullen as she was with him as Masen. And Bella Swan kept getting looped in by Collins.
It was always Collins.
Edward could not help as he gritted his teeth. "Touché, Miss Swan."
Alice and Jasper returned, walking hand in hand. "There are so many flowers growing at the far end of this meadow!" Alice exclaimed, presenting a small bouquet of wildflowers.
Bella reached out to take it, inhaling their scent. "I believe the forest shall soon be rid of this grayness and these rains," she sighed. "Maybe the coming of spring will make Hayes joyful once more," she whispered to herself.
"Having those poor young men in Forster's prison freed could be a start," Jasper interceded.
"They are making no effort to hide the gallows that are being built," Alice shivered.
Bella did not remove her eyes from the flowers in her hands. "Maybe," she trailed off. "Maybe Cullen will save them." A pair of emerald eyes followed her sternly with their gaze. She knew it was a difficult feat—saving five men from the garrison. Cullen would have to outdo himself to manage it.
"Hayes would not stand for it, should these men be hanged." Jasper sat down next to her. "Forster must realize as much."
"Captain Forster may be many things, but I do not believe he understands the concept of consequence," Edward drawled.
"Then you disagree with him?" Alice murmured in astonishment.
Her brother arched an arrogant eyebrow her way. "Why yes, sister dear. Why on earth would I ever agree with a man who openly misuses his power to do as he pleases?"
His words caught them all by surprise for their uncharacteristic way. They showed that Edward Masen had more care than he'd let on. He did care for those poor farmers. He almost looked disgusted by what Forster was about to do. Bella's lips parted as she placed the flowers to the side. She had been teasing him without thinking how much such news had to be bearing down on him.
"I am not completely soulless," he whispered, looking off to the side. The drawl was faint, the arrogance gone.
Jasper cleared his voice to get rid of the uncomfortable air that had lowered about them. "Shall we head back?" he asked.
Bella and Edward's eyes crossed. She knew he would try his best to get those men out. An impossible feat. Now that she knew who hid beneath the mask, the young woman couldn't help but worry for his safety. His mission would be a dangerous one. Yet, she would pray for his safety. Maybe even help him, if it came to that.
Lucy spat to the side, wrinkling her nose and placing her hands firmly on her hips as she watched the gallows rise from the ground, looming over the old square. They had been completed that very morning, and many of the Hayes inhabitants had gathered to watch the threatening presence of the wooden structure.
The noose swayed eerily in the wind.
A notice had been placed on the board next to the garrison. In one week, the five men would be hung publicly at dawn. They had not had a trial and wouldn't get one either. A warning was attached to the notice, stating that if anyone—like those five men and their families had—thought it pertinent to give any form of aid or support to Cullen and his rebels in Raven's Grove, they too would see the same fate.
Forster thought it would instill fear in the town and settle it down from the civil unrest it had been seeing. But Hayes was ready to burst into full revolt, and the captain was now ready to use the harshest force possible. With Wilson's protecting and pulling of strings, Hayes would stay isolated and in their control.
But they had been wrong. They had never counted on the one thing that might make their plan fail. What characterized Hayes was also what would help save it: gossip.
Gossip at its finest.
Rumors and whispers, jumping from mouth to mouth. All it took was some information to be spread by Jacob and Jonah through Friar Nathan, and within a few days, the working classes buzzed with the recent knowledge: that Lionel Wilson was corrupt and had been misusing his position of power. The whole truth was, of course, not out. Ridge and Haste's deaths remained suicides. But the beauty of gossip was that the rumors quickly could get out of hand and it was soon that many speculated if the lawyer had truly taken his own life. Strangest of all, however, was that—even if such speculations started leaking into the finer drawing rooms and salons of the richer households—it had still not reached the ears of Forster's soldiers or Wilson's spies. They remained oblivious to the rising tension against them; unable to see the danger they found themselves in at having been unmasked by the rebels of Raven's Grove.
That same night, as the last few soldiers left the tavern, some figures in deep hoods entered. With the aid of Isabella Swan and her connection to the tavern owner, Lucy Berg, several townspeople of confidence had been gathered to The Laughing Goose. They all thought Cullen himself might show, that they would catch a glimpse of him.
Instead, hopping in with great effort yet great determination, supporting himself with his son and a cane, Billy Black entered.
As soon as he entered, all stood up and clapped with silent acceptance on their harsh lined features. Billy Black had been the first man to publicly speak out against Forster and the first to dare stand up against the oppressor.
They all rose their cups to him. "Well met, Mr. Black!" they cheered. Lucy smirked as she leaned against her bar, passing a cup of spirits to him.
"On the house, Mr. Black," she nodded.
Having returned to Raven's Grove and into the fold of the rebels, Billy noted that they were quite celebrated by the townspeople—almost as much as Cullen. When he heard of the five young men who'd been caught, he had felt an unexplainable sadness and anger toward Forster. When he heard Wilson was also involved, he had felt his heart drop in his chest. He knew it to be risky, dangerous and foolish, but he wished to return to the town, talk with some good old friends and hear from them how they perceived the situation unfold. With the support of his son and Lucy's tavern, some choice friends had been alerted that Billy wished to meet and speak with them. What he wasn't ready on, was that more people had flocked to The Laughing Goose when they heard Mr. Black and the rebels would be there. It was a chance to toast to their health, ask how they faired in the Grove and inquire about Cullen.
The dimly lit tavern was filled to the brim. Chairs scraped to let Billy and his entourage pass. Faces lit up at the presence of the old man who had defied a tyrant and lived to tell the tale. Billy Black stood in line, but he was approachable, representing them, not some idea; a shadow in the dark.
The brass chandeliers hung with filled candles, the wax dropping occasionally. The barmaids rushed around as mead was in high demand. The conversation flowed and, on the tables, men rested their mugs, making circles as the mead spilled over, leaving ring-marks in the wood.
Billy looked around himself, taking it all in. It was his Hayes, the town he had fallen in love with. The Laughing Goose represented the candor, the goodness and hard-working people which he called his friends and neighbors.
Jacob saw the glitter in his father's eyes, the emotion spreading across his features.
"Is all well, father?"
Billy kept looking at the laughter and conversation. Despite the hardships, despite what Forster put them through, the people of Hayes lived on with a smile on their lips. For him, theirs was the truest courage of all.
"Never better, son," Billy whispered. "Despite what they've heard about Wilson, they are not crushed by such news."
One of the nearby men, Robert, who worked as stablemaster in the Swan household, turned to Billy and his small entourage. "What do you plan to do about Wilson?" he asked in a loud voice for all to hear. The buzzing conversation died down as more turned to Billy with similar questions.
"Are the rumors about him really true?"
"Did he really kill Ridge and Haste?"
Jacob, Jonah, and Billy shared looks. They knew they might get such questions and were ready to answer them. "You speak, father," Jacob nodded. "You were always good at that," he blinked.
"They'd not wish to hear an old man—"
"Aye, we would!" said some nearby young men. "We'd hear you speak, Mr. Black!"
Billy sighed and rolled his eyes, emptying the last of the mead into his thirsty mouth. He felt the adrenaline mix with the endorphins in his system. He guessed part of it was due to the anticipation felt in the large dining room, part was due to his own intoxication.
He stood up. All eyes rested on the man in a shabby and wrinkly white shirt with a dirtied dark blue coat thrown over it. Billy had seen better days, but the sparkle in his eyes and the pleasant line of his features told the men there that he had something in store for them.
"I know you have questions," Billy began, looking at the expectant faces. He knew to be careful in what he said; not to make too difficult promises. He knew that his words would circulate through the entirety of Hayes up until the supposed execution and he had a mind to measure his speech.
"Let me just begin by saying that I admire each and every one of you who has come here tonight. It takes courage to live as you have, under a man such as Forster!" He pointed at them, leaning forward, looking at the expecting smiles, the gleaming faces. "We face hardships, and we will face many more before this nightmare is over," he admitted. Billy nodded pensively. "Yes, Forster has taken five of those who would help us residing in Raven's Grove. But he will not get away with such acts."
"Hear, hear!" they all exclaimed.
"We are proud Cadherrans, proud citizens of this beautiful province, this beautiful town. We know the turbulence that takes place on the continent. But we are not France, we shall not let fear and seething hatred send us down the same path," he warned. Billy kept the calm and collected presence as he spoke.
"Men like Forster will always come and go, and we must learn to deal with them, not by unnecessary violence, lest we end up with the army at our doorsteps and half of Hayes behind bars. That is not what we in Raven's Grove wish, or what Cullen wishes. What you have heard of Lionel Wilson is indeed true."
The interior of the tavern dimmed further as they savored the final name he had spoken. Billy continued. "Yes, Lionel Wilson," he affirmed. "The man who has been getting rich by overtaxing us all. For, my good friends, wherever he is; getting drunk in Wessport, visiting the royal court in Safeira or traveling the world, Lord Newton has not been taking our livelihood, our daily bread. It has been taken by a corrupt administration, run by two men. Two men that think they are above us. Two men that we must prove are not gods, but mere mortals and deserving of punishment!"
His words instilled a silence so severe in the tavern that it could be cut with a butter knife.
"I stand here before you to confirm who has been souring your lives these past few years. I stand here because you are believed to be true men of Hayes and Cadherra. We must not rebel and revolt as they did in the north, we must not go to the streets as a mob and topple our local government. We must use sense and reason. Mr. Ridge was a good man, a man of the law, a man of justice. Mr. Ridge was killed for standing up to a bully and Mr. Ridge shall be avenged as he would have liked, by using the law, my friends!" Billy Black said to them.
The tavern widened its eyes, processing his words and what he had just confirmed. Mr. Ridge had indeed been killed.
"We cannot take down Wilson or Forster unless it is by force," Robert said, a sinking feeling of being trapped settled in the bottom of his belly.
Billy Black pierced him with his black orbs. "How do you know that?"
"I…it is the most common knowledge to all that the mayor of each provincial town is elected by the provincial council made up by the most powerful men of that province. They will not accept a petition from us common folks to remove Wilson without proof. And even if we remove him, someone like him will take his place, unless we take him down with force and make those pesky lords keep away from us and leave with their tail between their legs!" Robert shouted.
The others cheered, but Billy shook his head. "An uncalled act of violence against either Forster or Wilson will result in grand bloodshed."
"Then we are trapped," another said.
"We are not trapped," Jacob interceded. He had stood up next to his father. "I trust in Cullen, and that he will find a way to expose Wilson for what he truly is to the rest of the world. We have started something, broken against what we supposed was normal. Men like Wilson and Forster will never again rule here in Hayes."
"Is that a promise?" Robert asked. He wished for those words to be true, they all did. But promising such a grand feat would be nearly impossible.
"Why do you think Ridge was killed?" Jacob asked, taking a step toward the stablemaster. A deathly silence befell the inn. Lucy knew the importance of those notes and ledgers in her chambers all of a sudden, she knew that she needed Cullen to take them from her as soon as possible. However, she would still only entrust them to him.
"Ridge was onto them," Billy said. "I will not reveal much more, other than that we have some substantial proof against these two."
Twinkling eyes widened with the realization of what that meant. The men before them hinted at Wilson being able to be taken down.
"We want to help," Robert said heatedly.
"You are already helping," Jacob said. "And now you must make sure there is not an uprising here in Hayes. Make sure that the townspeople are informed but do not take the matter into their own hands. Cullen has a plan to expose Wilson to Wessport and Safeira. You must trust in that."
"When the time comes, you will know, we will ask for you to join us," Billy filled in.
Chairs scraped and they all stood up in solidarity, their questions answered and their hearts expanding in their chests.
The Laughing Goose needed no more encouragement. All in there knew what their tasks were. Spreading the word would help unite the rest of Hayes. They started chanting, raising their drinks to the beamed ceiling. "Audeamus!"
"But you must do something, James or those men will die!" she cried as she hurried after him. Bella Swan had sought out James Collins at the garrison when word of the notice and the finished gallows reached her. She could still not believe he would not see reason.
She had happened upon him as he had ridden back from what appeared to be a patrol. Bella had rushed up to him with an upset look and the moment Collins realized what it was that she aimed to speak of, he had soured and rushed to the garrison to avoid disappointing her.
"It is complicated, Isabella!" he said sternly her way.
She ignored the looks they received from the pedestrians as she quarreled with him. "It is not! It is very simple! These men have not even had a trial," she cried out, trying to stop him. "H-how can you merely say that—"
"Do not get involved, Miss Swan. These men have had their hearing and enough proof has allowed Captain Forster to make a difficult decision," the major growled as he turned to her.
Bella stood stunned, her mouth open in complete disbelief. Many now stopped and whispered amongst themselves.
"James, you…you wouldn't let this happen, would you?" she asked with a shaking voice.
The blond major looked at her in defeat. A wall had come up between them and he felt trapped. Yet he wanted her in his life. He figured he loved her, he wanted to marry her, despite so many thinking it now impertinent. But from the way she stared at him, he wondered if there was any possibility left for that in her eyes.
"You must understand that the law and justice cannot follow our own personal whims—"
Bella recoiled in distress, a look of disappointment and something akin to disgust touching her features. "Then the justice and law you speak of are wrong," she growled. "You throw around that word so carelessly, to use whenever it befits you lot. It is not justice, not the same that Mr. Ridge fought for," she started. Bella wanted to shout at him, utter her disappointment. But she remained composed. Yet, her eyes were glazed over with unshed tears and his heart broke in two when he saw her let-down expression etching into her eyes.
He had lost her.
"Isabella," he tried, sighing as he neared her.
"I hope Cullen saves them all," she sneered as she recoiled. "And makes fools out of you."
Collins' demeanor darkened. "Should he come, he will be shot upon sight and killed, miss. We are not taking any more chances with that man."
She shook her head. "I do not know how I could have been so blind to you," she growled.
Bella Swan turned from him and walked away. Collins stared at that picture for a moment; the woman who turned her back to him. He thought he'd fall to the ground from the pains it provoked him. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth in defeat.
A/N: Another chapter up ;)
Cheers,
Isabelle