Daniel's vision blurred. Unwilling to meet Jon's eyes, he looked down. There was a jagged rip across the left knee of his breeches where a livid red gash split his skin. He was aware of a stabbing pain and just for a moment he wondered if he'd be fit enough to work. If he was lame, Driver Kemp would use the whip on him.
Instantly, he was disgusted by the ingrained fear. Kemp was dead. He had seen the man's mutilated body hanging by the feet from a tree at the entrance to the path. His second, Riley, eyeless and broken, creaked beside him. It had been planned for weeks. The men had gone for them first. That was the message when the drumming began in the dark, and his brother must have known.
'You passed the word to raise them.' Daniel looked up. 'You knew and you didn't tell me.' His voice was thickened by smoke and by the ball of misery rising in his throat. He knew he sounded like a petulant child. But he was not a child. He was a man, with a man's responsibilities. Wildly, he stared up at the burning house.
The Salutation had many rooms. She of all people would know where to hide. All he needed to do was find her and make her safe. 'Daniel!' Jon shook him roughly. 'Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't stop what's happening tonight. Thomas died today, last week it was Martha and her unborn child. How many others have we seen murdered by Kemp or Riley, or by hunger? Have you forgotten Father?' It was a ridiculous question. Their father's death was seared into Daniel's every fibre like the 'G' branded on his arm. The flesh had puckered and healed, but the memory of that day still burned. Late last summer a fever had swept the Garnett Plantation, but Driver Kemp and Riley gave no quarter to the sick. Slaves were expendable. It was cheaper to buy fresh stock in Kingston than waste time and expense on the weak.
At first when Adam—their father—fell ill, he had tried to hide it, but soon he became too frail to work or even stand in the rows. Riley accused him of indolence. He gave Adam thirty lashes and then, as an example to all, he had him stripped where he lay and manacled his feet and hands so that he could not crawl into the shade or even scratch at the bites of mosquitoes. For the rest of the day, Daniel and Jon were forced to work on, knowing that their father lay suffering nearby. They were powerless to help; Riley and his men had pistols as well as whips, but worst of all, Riley had a vicious mind. When the bell rang to mark the end of labour, he smeared Adam in molasses and ordered that he was to be left where he was. That night Kemp and Riley kept watch on the rows where the enslaved men, women and children of the Garnett Plantation were housed. Inside those fly-blown shacks no one slept; they all knew that the cane rats feasted in the dark. When the workers went to the fields the next day, Adam was dead. It was not the fever that took him.
'It cannot go on, brother.' Jon released Daniel from his grip. 'We brought the plans forward, that's all. It's better this way. The anger of the day makes us stronger. Besides...' he stood up, '...you lost Adanna a long time ago; we all did.'
Furious, Daniel sprang to his feet. 'They took her from us. Mistress Isabella wanted her because—'
'Because she was finer than the rest of us,' Jon interrupted. 'You have been blind to so much. You're clever, but you cannot see. Adanna was never for you. Forget her.'
Daniel's bellow of anger was ragged with smoke. He lunged at his brother and tried to force his way past, but as they struggled, a man emerged from the trees. Halting, he swung a hessian bag around his head before tossing it to the ground.
Something pale tumbled out. At first, Daniel took it for a white cat, but then the man prodded it with a foot. A head rolled on the pebbles. Daniel saw that he had mistaken a wig—still partially attached to short grey hair with silver pins—for fur. Watery eyes peered up at him. Jewels glinted at the ears; the stump of the neck was ragged and wet.
'Mistress Isabella will never cut my child again.' The man spat on the horror. 'I've taken her head to prove it to him.' There was a fierce triumph in his voice.
Daniel stared at the woman who had taken Adanna to be her maid. Isabella Garnett, mistress of the Garnett Plantation, was cruel and spiteful, worse if anything than Oliver, her fat husband. He didn't feel any pity, but his stomach churned with dread for the girl he had promised to protect, no matter what comes.
He heard Jon's question from a distance. 'What of the master? What's become of Garnett, Luke?'
Daniel tore his eyes from the grisly trophy, amazed that his brother recognised the man before them. The Luke he'd always known was mild and gentle. A loving husband, a good father, a friend. This version of him was forged into something terrifying and new by the heat of his fury. What had become of him tonight?
