1820 - Firebell in the Night

[Calder]

Main Street Livery, Suffolk, Virginia 1820

"You did WHAT!"

The liveryman took a half pace backward at the blast, flinching almost in anticipation of a blow. One that he was very close to receiving. The man in front of him was staring with a cold intensity that was far more terrifying than outright anger. "Well, sir, it wasn't me see. It was Jim. He'd propped the side up only hadn't done it too well see and the blocks fell over. And the axle just broke. We'll fix it, sir, no charge." The liveryman flinched again.

Stuyvesant stared at him, incredulity at the man's stupidity mixed with anger at the disruption to his plans. The man had been close enough for him to smell the whiskey on his breath and that had been the key to what had happened. The carriage being used by Stuyvesant's party had developed a loose rim and he'd pulled into the livery and blacksmith shop here in Suffolk to have it fixed. A simple job, take off the wheel, tighten the rim on the forge, and put it back. Only the liveryman had been drinking and had either been too drunk to block the carriage properly or left it to an unqualified assistant. The blocks had been unequal to the weight and collapsed, dropping the carriage onto its axle – which had broken under the impact. A minor piece of maintenance had suddenly turned into a major repair. One that would take hours. Possibly days.

"We won't get to Sunbury today, not if we have to wait for this to be fixed." Lillith's voice was neutral, while she mentally computed time and distance. "It’s twenty miles, the road's not bad but it goes through Dismal Swamp. We won't get there by dusk and there's nowhere to stay on the way. I saw an inn down the street that looked tolerable. We can stay there overnight and move on in the morning."

"Dido's waiting for us in Sunbury, I don’t like the idea of her staying there on her own any longer than necessary." Stuyvesant was also computing time and distance, the various options laid out in his mind.

"Dido's not on her own, she's got an escort we hired in Wilmington to look out for her. The detective agency vouched for him, they're reliable, and we've used them in the past. If you're worried though, there are horses here, why not go on ahead? I'm sure the Livery will lend us some since they're the ones who are responsible for this mess."

"I'm not sure I'm keen on leaving you and Naamah here either."

"Oh, we'll be all right, Achillea and Gusoyn are here as well. Take a horse and go on ahead."

"Now see here…." The livery manager bridled at the casual way commandeering his horseflesh was being discussed. His words faded away as Stuyvesant and the red-headed woman stared at him. The man had authority, a cold ruthless authority that, although the liveryman had no way of knowing it, had once driven Alexander the Great's armies all the way to the Indus. The liveryman preferred that though to the stare of the woman standing beside him, the one he called Naamah. Her dead, muddy green eyes had all the venom of a poisonous snake. Again, he had no way of knowing how accurate this impression was, the woman's skills with poison had sent that same Alexander to an early grave.

"Is there a problem here gentlemen?" The new arrival's voice was friendly but brisk. His eyes scanned around, taking in the damaged axle on the carriage, the fallen blocks, and the smell of whiskey. He didn't need an explanation to see what had happened. "Colvin, you been drinking again, told you once, told you hundred times. No drinking in this town during work. Sorry, mister……"

"Stuyvesant. Came in to get a rim fixed and " Stuyvesant gestured. "We're meeting a family member in Sunbury before dusk. This won’t be fixed by them."

"No, it won't, Mister Stuyvesant. I'm Newman, Sheriff of this town. We got a rule for public drunks here. Drunk in public, spend the rest of the day in the stocks. You want to make a complaint, in Colvin here goes."

"I'd rather he fixed the carriage Sheriff, but damn it…."

"I'll thank you not to blaspheme in my town, Mister Stuyvesant. You got a cause, won't argue that, but this is a God-fearing town. Would appreciate your help keeping it that way. Sunbury you say? By dusk?"

"Sorry, no offense meant. My cousin's coming up from Wilmington. She's got a bonded escort with her, but I'd rather meet her without any extra delay."

"Can understand that. Don't want to speak ill of a man but, well, the Sheriff in Sunbury isn't what I would call a lawman. Wouldn't want to ride alone through Dismal Swamp either though. Your party five?"

"That's right Sheriff, this is my wife Lillith, her cousin Naamah, and our people Gusoyn and Achillea."

"Pleased to meet you, ladies." Sheriff Newman touched his hat to the three women and nodded briefly at Gusoyn. "Look, if you want to stay here while your carriage is fixed, Colvin will be paying your way at Widow Tubman's Inn. Best rooms and the special meals." The liveryman looked as if he wanted to say something then hurriedly changed his mind. "Becky Tubman's a good cook too. Does a fine peach and blueberry pie. Or, if you want, Colvin will lend you his best horses, long as you need them. Or any mix of the two."

Stuyvesant looked at the Sheriff and the horses. Then he made his decision. As he did so, he felt strangely dizzy for a second. A quick glance at Lillith showed she'd felt the same. Then it was gone. "You got a nice town here, Sheriff. Lillith, you and Naamah stay with Gusoyn and enjoy the pie. The three of you can come down to Sunbury tomorrow. Achillea and I will ride on ahead. Meet up with Dido and stay with her overnight."

Sheriff Newman's eyes widened slightly at the realization Stuyvesant had decided to take one of the women with him on the ride through Dismal Swamp. Then, he locked eyes with the woman he'd previously assumed was a maid and realized that whatever her other skills were, proficiency with weapons was at the top of the list. Sheriff and gladiator grinned at each other in an age-old mutual recognition of fellow professionals. "Sounds good solution you got there. I'll take Colvin out back and make sure he gives you two the best horses he has. Then I'll take your people over to Becky Tubman's. You'll want to be on your way."

Spinner's Inn, Sunbury, North Carolina

"You have a room for me, please? And one for Mister Peddy?" The hotel clerk looked up. The woman standing in front of the counter was smiling politely, a mass of tightly curled black hair surrounding an olive-skinned face. "My name is Dido Carthagina."

"I've got two rooms up on the second floor. Adjoining." The clerk leered at the woman, then took a second glance. Her skin really was quite dark. And the man standing behind her was white, young, earnest-looking, in a city-slickers suit. Looked just like one of them abolitionists. The clerk suddenly got suspicious. "Sign in please."

The woman took the pen from its holder and signed in for her room. The man with her did the same. "George, I'm going up to my room, could you go to the livery please, and make sure our horses are well cared for? It’s been a long trip from Wilmington."

"Certainly, Miss Dido." As the two guests split up and went their ways, the clerk got out a pile of papers from under the counter. One of them was a reward notice for a runaway. A female slave belonging to Mister Chartraine from down by Charleston. Wilmington was on the way up from Charleston, wasn't it? Name of Dido too. There was a drawing. The lips looked fuller than the new guest's and the nose thicker but who knew what the subject of a cheap pen sketch really looked like? The important thing was at the top, a thousand-dollar reward. The catchers would get most of that but he'd still be entitled to his share. A hundred dollars wasn't to be sneezed at. The catchers who'd brought the notice were still in town, almost certainly in the saloon. Time to see them.

By the time the clerk got back from his talk with the trio of catchers, two more strangers had arrived. They'd tied their horses to the rail outside the inn and were just entering the building. "Can I help you?"

"Name's Stuyvesant. I believe my cousin is staying here. Name is Dido Carthagina. She's traveling with a bonded escort, a George Peddy."

The clerk's stomach did a double flip. If the woman was this man's cousin, then she couldn't be the escaped slave. And that meant he'd given the wrong information to the catchers. No money and probably a really bad beating. "Her room's number three Sir. Second floor. Stuyvesant nodded and went up the stairway, his companion following close behind. He watched the man reach the door and knock lightly.

"Who's there?"

"The Seer, Dido. Achillea's with me." The door opened and Dido looked out, then hugged Stuyvesant. "Seer, it’s good to see you. I've missed everybody. Achillea, you too. Come on in." She closed the door behind them.

"How's the trip, Dido?"

"Wonderful. I got all the agreements signed and our cargo should be going straight to the factors from now on. Look, Seer, the bonded escort you hired for me? He's such a nice young man. Polite, efficient, always around when needed, friendly without being pushy. He looked after me very well. He deserves a good bonus – and a letter of recommendation. Could you, please?"

Stuyvesant grinned. At a guess, the young man had a crush on the lady he was escorting and had gone out of his way to make a favorable impression. He hadn't the slightest idea of the age differential of course, not that it mattered very much. But Stuyvesant was of the opinion that good service should always be well-rewarded. George Peddy would get his bonus and reference, with a quiet word of praise to the agency thrown in.

Downstairs, the clerk watched the party go in, then made for the door to head off the catchers before they caused trouble. Even as he reached the entrance to the inn, he knew it was too late. The three catchers were already going into the livery stable.

Hoskins Livery, Sunbury, North Carolina

George Peddy gave the carriage a quick inspection. It was in one corner of the stables, drying after one of the hands had washed the mud from the wheels. Hadn't been brushed out yet but that would be better done tomorrow. The two horses had been fed and watered and seemed content in their pens. He was so intent on checking their hooves for stones and loose shoes that he never heard the steps behind them.

Cestus looked down at the young man sprawled on the ground. "Damned abolitionists." He spat once, then took a firmer grip on the heavy metal bar he'd picked up, braced himself, and took a full swing at his victim's head. There was a dull, dead, thud, then he dropped the bar and went back to join the other pair of catchers. They'd inspected the hotel and planned to go in through the back. No reason to make this more public than they had to. Fewer witnesses the better.

Spinner's Inn, Sunbury, North Carolina

Dido's laughter froze. She'd been telling Stuyvesant and Achillea about the Governor's ball in Wilmington when their faces had suddenly gone blank. She hadn't heard anything amiss, but they had. Sets of steps coming up the stairs, trying to keep quiet but moving too fast. Stuyvesant reached under his coat, drawing two .54 Kentucky percussion cap pistols. Achillea moved swiftly and silently to the other side of the room, so they had the door bracketed between them. As always Dido was amazed by just how fast the short, stocky Achillea could move when she had to. It shouldn't have been surprising of course, the child of a gladiator and a slave girl, Achillea had started to learn how to fight literally before she could walk. Dido's train of thought was interrupted by a crash as three men burst through the door. Without meaning to, she screamed but the sound was drowned out by a rapid staccato of shots.

Cestus had gone through the door first and been hit twice. Stuvvesant's shot had hit him full in the face while Achillea's had gone low, ripping into his stomach. As he went down, his brother Cletus, so close behind they seemed almost to be a single person, tripped over him. That caused Stuyvesant's second shot to miss, splintering the wood on the door frame just over his head. It didn't matter, Achillea's second shot took him full in the chest. He fell on top of his brother, bleeding out as his ruptured heart pumped the blood from his body. The third man caught the splinters from Stuyvesant's shot in the side of his face. That, and the cloud of smoke in the room from the shots disorientated him and he staggered before a hand caught him by the back of the neck and hurled him forward. He fell over the bodies on the floor, rolled, then felt an explosion of pain as a foot slammed into his groin. Then one hand grabbed his chin, another the back of his head and he felt the bones in his neck separate before the pain stopped.

"Seer, how many times have I told you? Aim at the body, not the head. Head's a small target, it moves a bit, and you miss." Achillea wasn't even breathing quickly, killing the third man through the door had been about as much a challenge for her as lifting an empty cup.

"Sorry, forgot. Everybody safe and sound?" There was a quick exchange of nods. The smoke cloud in the room was too thick to be tolerated so Stuyvesant opened the window. It stuck a little but after a quick tug, the flow of fresh air was a blessed relief from the acrid stench of black powder. It was just about breathable in the room when there was another pounding on the stairs. Four clicks as the reloaded pistols were cocked, then they relaxed as they saw the star of a Sheriff.

"What the blazes happened here?"

"They tried to burst in on the lady here. Guess they didn't know we were here."

"And who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Name's Stuyvesant. Lady here is Dido Carthagina, my cousin. This here's Achillea, one of my people. Hey, Dido, where's the detective looking after you.?"

"I sent him to check on our carriage. Oh my. Please…." Stuyvesant pushed past the spluttering Sheriff and went down to the livery stable. Peddy was on the floor, blood spreading around his head. Achillea knelt by him, feeling for a pulse, then gently touching his blood-matted hair.

"He's alive, only just. Let's get him inside." As she passed Stuyvesant her voice dropped to a whisper "Lord knows why he's alive, skull's crushed like an eggshell. He's got a few minutes, an hour or so at most. Better to die in a bed than in the dirt here."

As George Peddy was placed on the bed in his room, the Sheriff of Sunbury tried to take control of the situation back. "What happened to him?"

"He's been murdered. Still breathing now but he won't live. They hit him twice. First blow hit him above the ear here. Cracked the skull but he might have survived that. Second one was square on the back of the head. Heavy iron rod, probably a blacksmithing tool. That's a deliberate killing of a defenseless man Sheriff, want to know who? There'll be blood splatter on the pants of the one who did this. They killed the detective, and it seems they wanted to abduct my cousin. Why we can only guess." Stuyvesant saw the hotel clerk looking shifty. "Or perhaps not. What do you know about this?"

The clerk tried to shuffle away but found Achillea's stocky shape blocking him. "Got an alert about a runaway and thought it was her. So passed the word. Just doing my duty."

The Sheriff relaxed. No need to do anything about this. "So, there we are then. Fred here was just doing his civic duty and the boys back there went way over the top. No right to kill your detective or barge in like that so you're in the clear. Just a real bad misunderstanding." He was uncomfortably aware that the three strangers were staring at him with what came perilously close to loathing. His exit was very hurried.

George Peddy died just before midnight.

Main Street, Sunbury, North Carolina

There were two carriages now, Lillith, Naamah, and Gusoyn had arrived mid-morning and been brought up to speed on the events of the night. George Peddy's body was in the larger carriage with Lillith and Dido. Gusoyn and Naamah were in the smaller one, the one that Dido and Peddy had used in the journey up from Wilmington. Stuyvesant and Achillea had mounted their horses and were preparing to get the sad procession moved out when a voice cut across the street.

"Stop that! Sheriff, arrest that woman, She's a runaway slave. Anyone can see she's a ni......." The man was pointing at Dido.

"She's Greek you bloody fool. And she’s my cousin." Stuyvesant had had enough. His voice was larded with anger and searing contempt.

"Retract that Sir. My name is Ducheneaux. Three of my men were killed here yesterday. I demand satisfaction for their deaths and your insult to my honor."

"You? Honor? You don't know the meaning of the word." Ducheneaux saw Stuyvesant sneering openly at him. His rage at the open contempt increased to boiling point and he started to move forward, He saw Stuyvesant make a dismissive gesture with his hand, and then the lights went out.

The Sheriff gazed appalled as Ducheneaux 's lifeless body rolled from his horse, the blood staining the back of his coat. "My God, your women shot him in the….." he became painfully aware of six pairs of very hostile eyes focused on him. "……the clearest case of self-defense I've ever seen. Just get out of my town."

Main Street, Suffolk, Virginia 1820

"Hear you'll have some trouble down there." Sheriff Newman didn't sound particularly concerned.

"Rumor travels fast Sheriff. There were some problems, but they’re sorted now. Need a favor from you though."

"They surely do, and I hear sorted means nobody's going to be troubled by that crew again. What favor?"

"Young man here, died defending my cousin. This is a good, God-fearing town and this was a good, God-fearing man. Reckon he would be at ease if he was laid to rest here. Not in that pit down there."

Sheriff Newman nodded. "That ain't a favor Mister Stuyvesant. The way I see it, that's just doing right by a man."

"Appreciate it, Sheriff. You and your lady care to join us for dinner tonight? Least we can do."

"Martha and I'll sure appreciate that. You all excuse me now, I'll find the preacher, and get the arrangements made for you."

Dido was watching as the body was unloaded from the carriage. "It’s the best we can do honey. We'll check into him, and find out if there is a family that depended on him. If there were we'll look after them."

"It’s not that Seer. I keep thinking, somewhere out there is a girl about my age, who looks a bit like me, and is named after me. And she's hiding in the woods somewhere, running for her life. Men chase her with dogs and guns. What did the man do to her that made her take a chance like that?"

"You've never been a slave Dido. I have and I can tell you why she's running." Achillea had quietly walked up to stand behind Dido. "You've no idea what it’s like to have somebody own you. Somebody who can do whatever they want, whenever they want with you. To be just a thing to be used and abused any way somebody else wants. I know what that woman's thinking right now. Even running and being hunted down by dogs and guns is better than spending another day living like that. I'll tell you this Seer, this country's got a problem with its 'peculiar institution'. We should do something about it."

The Seer thought briefly and shook his head, reluctantly but still shook it. "We can’t. It’s not our problem for a start. It’s their country, they have to run it, and they have to sort their own problems out. We try and do it for them, it'll end up with us running the place and we all know where that'll lead. Remember Loki and his effort to put an end to the 30 Years’ War? All he did was make it worse and cripple what was evolving into a nice little country. Not to mention getting the only enlightened monarch in Europe killed. Slavery isn't our problem, we just live here. In fifty-odd years, this is the first real threat we've had. They aren't doing so badly, for all their faults, the short lifers here are bright, they'll solve this eventually. By themselves, their way. We shouldn't and can't get involved."

Achillea disagreed but couldn't really argue. Not logically. "I'll tell you something else about being a slave, Seer. You hate the people who own you. Doesn't matter if they're angels or monsters, you hate them. With the blackest hate, you can imagine. Sometimes, we got people put in the arena, with a death sentence. Give the man a sword, put him in the arena, and make him try and fight with a professional. If that man was a slaveowner, and most were, we made sure they died really slowly. This country's going to be like that. Slavery will tear it apart and the hatred it causes will last for generations afterward."

"I know honey, I know. And I'll say it again. It’s their problem, not ours. We just live here but it's their country. We try and interfere, there's no way we can know how it will end. Let them sort this one out. They'll learn. We killed the people who offended us. If we run into that girl, we'll help get her out. Only, that's as far as we should go. Now, did somebody mention peach and blueberry pie?"

Editorial note.... This story forms part of the TBOverse; it is part of the @ timeline that continues until June 1940 when the TBO timeline splits away from @. However, there is a point in this story where the timeline splits and a new story, the FINverse, splits away from @. The FINverse is NOT part of the TBOverse and is a separate universe where the American Civil War doesn't take place. I'll post a link to that timeline when the story is posted.

[Belushi TD]

The note at the end of this story mentions the FINverse. Does anyone have any idea what this is about? This is the only place I've seen it mentioned and if there's stories set in it out there somewhere, I'd like to read them.

Belushi TD

[Johnnie Lyle]

The note at the end of this story mentions the FINverse. Does anyone have any idea what this is about? This is the only place I've seen it mentioned and if there's stories set in it out there somewhere, I'd like to read them.

Belushi TD

A project Stuart never got to.

[jemhouston]

More's the pity

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

Sneaking suspicion FITN may relate to Tunguska, especially as that coincided with peak of annual Beta Taurids shower...

Correlation does not prove causation, but...

So, the T-lump could have arrived any year, but...
https://www.cantab.net/users/davidasher ... years.html
Given Jupiter resonance seems to 'marshal' encounters to ~61 year peaks, that could put FITN fork mid-1847, June 5 to July 18...
Let's say T-lump befell North America, perhaps near Appalachians, but not as big as the Chesapeake Event, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chesapeak ... act_crater

Would have knocked US politics etc sideways, changed balance of power between N_US and S_US...
Any particular hinge-event to butterfly ??

[Craiglxviii]

The note at the end of this story mentions the FINverse. Does anyone have any idea what this is about? This is the only place I've seen it mentioned and if there's stories set in it out there somewhere, I'd like to read them.

Belushi TD

A project Stuart never got to.

Wasn’t this the one where an asteroid-comet-thing was seen, close by, something about a train <and whoever was on it> that spurred much earlier moon rocket development?

[Belushi TD]

Sneaking suspicion FITN may relate to Tunguska, especially as that coincided with peak of annual Beta Taurids shower...

Correlation does not prove causation, but...

So, the T-lump could have arrived any year, but...
https://www.cantab.net/users/davidasher ... years.html
Given Jupiter resonance seems to 'marshal' encounters to ~61 year peaks, that could put FITN fork mid-1847, June 5 to July 18...
Let's say T-lump befell North America, perhaps near Appalachians, but not as big as the Chesapeake Event, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chesapeak ... act_crater

Would have knocked US politics etc sideways, changed balance of power between N_US and S_US...
Any particular hinge-event to butterfly ??

If the Tunguska meteor had impacted in a similar manner somewhere in the Appalachians in mid 1847, it is unlikely that it would have done a whole hell of a lot to US politics. The Appalachians were fairly sparsely populated even then. Flattening 830 square miles would be unpleasant, but probably wouldn't do a whole hell of a lot to the politics. There would likely be a whole lot of religious change, because of the whole "finger of god" nature of the impact. I can see a whole lot of people getting a lot more religious due to the nature of the time.

Unless, of course, it happened to have its impact over/near a major town or a capitol. Say, Frankfort, Kentucky or Nashville, Tennessee would have repercussions, as it would mean the wiping out of an entire capitol city in a time where natural processes were understood poorly at best, and might be interpreted as the disapproval of god.

This might have an effect on the national effort in the Mexican American war, again for religious reasons. Either a "We're doing the wrong thing, pull out" or "We've been struck by the devil! Take the whole thing!"

Belushi TD

[Johnnie Lyle]

Point of order: the story’s title is Firebell in the Night, not Fireball in the Night.

Stuart’s FIN universe had nothing to do with comets or meteors, but the Circle deciding to tackle slavery.

[Calder]

Point of order: the story’s title is Firebell in the Night, not Fireball in the Night.

Stuart’s FIN universe had nothing to do with comets or meteors, but the Circle deciding to tackle slavery.

Changed the name. Also IIRC correctly the FIN universe either eliminated or had a very short civil war so that the hard feelings of slavery aren't so pronounced and the slaves had an easier transition into freedom. I don't believe this project went anywhere.

[Craiglxviii]

Point of order: the story’s title is Firebell in the Night, not Fireball in the Night.

Stuart’s FIN universe had nothing to do with comets or meteors, but the Circle deciding to tackle slavery.

THAT is what I remember it being. Thank you!

[Nik_SpeakerToCats]

Thank you.
I stand corrected...