will come to you from it. She needs comforting. She needs you to tell her that the man who had the use of her was more than a trickster. He forced her against her will. If she doesn't remember it that way, it just proves how powerful he is."
Doe looked studious. "That a long message, ma'am," she said.
"You remember the sense of it. Find your own words."
* * *
King Arthur and his council had been meeting for an hour before Lord Ashworth finally bothered to show up, and it was obvious he had been drinking. It was rather shocking and would have been a scandal on any other night, but all the King could think about was that finally he was here, perhaps he could break the impasse over what to do. Hotheaded John Calhoun was all for hanging one out of every three slaves as an example. "Make them think twice before they plot again!" On the other hand, as several of the older men reminded him, one didn't seize one-third of the city's most valuable property and destroy it, just to make a point.
Lord Ashworth, however, did not seem interested in the argument. "I have someone to see you," he said.
"An audience! At a time like this!"
"She claims to know about the conspiracy."
"We know about it already," said the King. "We have soldiers searching for the hideout right now. If they're wise, they'll drown themselves in the river before they let us take them."
"Your Majesty, I beg you to hear her."
The intensity of his tone, despite his drunkenness, was sobering. "All right, then," said the King. "For my dear friend."
Margaret was ushered in, and she introduced herself. Impatiently, the King got to the point at once. "We know all about the conspiracy. What can you possibly add to what we know?"
"What I know is that it wasn't a conspiracy, it was an accident."
She poured out the story, keeping it as close to the truth as possible without announcing just how powerful Calvin was before, and how helpless he had become. A young White man of her acquaintance noticed a man taking something from each slave that disembarked. It turned out that they were charms that held the slaves' true names, along with their anger and their fear. Tonight there had been an accident that destroyed the name-strings, and the slaves suddenly found themselves filled with the long-hidden rage. "But the flood frightened it out of them, and you'll have no rebellion now."
"Claptrap," said Calhoun.
Margaret looked at him coldly. "The tragedy of your life, sir, is that despite all your ambition, you'll never be king."
Calhoun turned red and started to answer, but the King raised a hand to silence him. He was quite a young man, perhaps younger than Margaret and there was an air of quiet assurance about him that she rather liked, especially since he seemed interested in what she had said. "All I want to know," he said, "is the name of the one they call the taker of names."
"But you already know it," she said to him. "Several witnesses have told you about Denmark Vesey."
"Ah, but we know about him because of excellent investigative work. How do you know?"
"I know that he's innocent of any ill intent," she said.
A man handed the King a paper. "Ah, here it is," the King said. "Your name is Margaret Smith, yes? Married to an accused slave thief. And you're here in Camelot to meddle in our ancient practice of servitude. Well, tonight we've seen where leniency takes us. Do you know how many slaves told us about plans to kill entire White families in their sleep? And now I find that there's a White woman intimately involved with the conspirators."
With sick dread, Margaret saw herself playing the leading role in some nasty futures in the King's heartfire. She hadn't bargained on this. She should have probed into her own future before coming to the King with wild-sounding stories about Blacks giving up their names voluntarily, for safekeeping, and then getting them back suddenly. "You must admit it sounds like a fable," the King explained kindly.
"Your Majesty," said Margaret, "I know that there are those who urge you to punish this revolt with brutality. You may think this is necessary to make your subjects feel secure in their homes, but Your Majesty, extravagant measures like the one Mr. Calhoun proposes will only bring greater danger down upon you."
"It's hard to imagine a more heinous danger than our servants turning