"I have no quarrel with Kersauzon. No one here does," Edward said. "He was the one who showed us the way to this land. We owe him a debt, if anything." Several people standing close by him nodded.
That wasn't what the men from Freetown wanted to hear. "Atlantis should be English! Atlantis must be English!" howled the one who liked to hear himself talk. "We ought to chase those French scuts back across the sea with their tails between their legs!"
"Do you think they'd stay chased?" Edward inquired. "Would you?"
"I'd kill the French dog who tried to make me leave!" the Freetown man blustered. "And if I did go, I'd come back with a fighting tail and make the knaves sorry they ever troubled me to begin with."
Radcliffe sighed. Some men were impressively blind. "Why d'you think Kersauzon's one pin different? If you tell him to go, he'll spit in your eye. If you somehow make him leave, he'll come back with soldiers himself. Do you want to farm and fish here, or do you want to fight?"
The question sounded sardonic, but he meant it. Some men did fight for the sport of it. He'd never understood that himself, but he knew it was so. To him, life was hard enough without making it harder still. Others, though, used brawls to spice up their days the way cooks used cinnamon and cloves and pepper to spice meats.
"I ought to let the king know he has such spineless subjects here," the Freetown man grumbled.
"If you do, I will hunt you down and kill you," Edward said matter-of-factly, as if he'd remarked, The sun will come up tomorrow. "And now you have quite worn out your welcome. Get out. If you fight Kersauzon, who is my friend, you may expect to fight me, too. I tell you that now, so you cannot say I will have taken you by surprise, and I aim to tell him the same as soon as may be."
"You won't get away with this, Radcliffe," the man from the new settlement said.
With a shrug, Edward answered, "I'm not trying to get away with anything. Only a blind idiot would think any different. Since you do, you have named yourself."
Muttering, their fists clenched, the Dovermen got into their boat and went south toward Freetown. "What do we do now?" Henry asked. "They won't let it lie-they aren't the sort who could."
"I know." Edward sighed. "We always find a serpent in Paradise, even if we have to bring it with us. We'll need a watch, to see that the Freetown men don't seek to serve us and the Bretons the same way. We'll need to hold the St. George between here and Freetown for a while-I am glad I got those guns. And we really will need to warn Francois Kersauzon."
"Which may provoke the Freetown men enough to make them complain of us back in England," Henry said.
"Let them bellow and bawl like branded calves, for all I care," Edward answered. "Will King Henry send knights here to make us behave when civil war's aflame back home? Give me leave to doubt, son-give me leave to doubt."
"What would you do if he should send knights?" Henry asked.
"Well, it depends on how many," Edward said. "A few? Our longbowmen can deal with a few knights, beshrew me if they can't. An army of 'em? An army of 'em would tell me he's gone quite mad. But if he does send so many-if he can send so many-why then going up the Brede with Richard looks better and better. We can live off the land. Can knights newly come here do the same? I would rejoice to see them try."
"Something to that, I shouldn't wonder," his son said. "I will thank the Lord, though, if we don't have to put it to the test."
"So will I." Edward nodded. "Yes, by God, so will I."
Edward Radcliffe took an unarmed cog well out to sea before sailing south. He didn't want any of the Dovermen's fishing boats spotting him. His ploy worked: the first boat he saw was the Breton Amzer Gaer-the Fairweather, she would have been in English. When he hailed her, her skipper thought he was a Freetown man and made ready to fight.
"No, God butter you and the Devil futter you!" Edward shouted in Breton. "I'm Kersauzon's friend-can't you get that through your bloody thick head? Take me to him. I have news he must hear."
"Why should we believe a lying Saoz?" the Breton yelled back.
"If you don't know who Edward Radcliffe is, you son of a dog, I'll board your scow myself and pound some sense through your hard skull."
The Breton fisherman was bigger and younger than he was, but backed down before his fierce temper. "Why didn't you say you were Radcliffe? That's not your St. George. Yes, I'll listen to you-for a while, anyway."
"Thank you so much," Edward said with a mocking bow. "But I don't want to talk to you. I want to talk to Kersauzon-I know he doesn't keep his brains in his backside. Where have you hidden this new town of yours?"
"Cosquer lies south-southwest of here. You'll know it by the big rock offshore," the Breton answered.
The name made Radcliffe smile: it meant Old Village. Only the Bretons would use that kind of name for a place on a barely explored shore. "Obliged to you. God give you a good catch." He could be polite enough-after he got what he wanted.
"And you the same, Saoz gast," the other man shouted. Edward laughed as he swung his cog on the new course. How many times had the Bretons called him an English whore? Not enough to make him believe he was one, anyhow.
The rock in front of Cosquer was almost big enough to make a small island. Several of the strange Atlantean almost-trees with barrel trunks and leaves sprouting from the tops of them clung to its side. As for the village itself…Edward laughed again when it came into sight. Here was a bit of Brittany transplanted to a far land, all right. The thatched roofs had a steeper pitch than they would have in Hastings. The windows were different, too, even if the houses were built from wood rather than stone.
Henry was thinking along with him. "Only thing missing is a circle of standing stones in a meadow by the town," he said.
"By God, you're right," Edward said. "Damned if I'd be surprised if the stubborn buggers didn't put some up to remind 'em of home." He pointed. "Isn't that the Morzen lying right offshore?"
"Sure looks like her." Henry eyed Francois Kersauzon's cog. "She didn't carry those swivel guns last time we saw her."
"You're right-she didn't." Edward frowned. Those guns were longer and would probably shoot farther than the ones aboard the St. George. "If Kersauzon wasn't thinking along those lines before he saw us last, maybe we gave him the idea."
Half a dozen men pushed a boat into the Atlantic and rowed out toward the cog. "Ahoy, Englishmen!" Yes, that was Kersauzon's bellow, made louder by the hands he cupped in front of his mouth. "Is it you, Radcliffe?"
"No. It's your mother-in-law, come from Brittany to nag you," Edward answered.
"Anything but that!" Francois Kersauzon cried in mock terror. "Come ashore if you care to, and see what you have to nag about."
"I'll do that, and gladly, but first let me say my say-the Freetown men are not your friends."
Kersauzon clapped a hand over his heart. "I am shocked to hear it," he said, which made Edward and Henry both chuckle. More seriously, the Breton continued, "And you say you are?"
"Against them? Yes, by God!" Edward said. "I told them the same, too."
"You had better come ashore, then!" the Breton fishing captain said. Even across a broad gap of ocean, Edward could see how wide his eyes got. "Yes, you had better come ashore, because we have much to talk about."
"Let's get our boat in the water," Edward called to his crew. To his son, he said, "Would you rather come and dicker with me or stay here and do whatever you have to do in case there's trouble?"