“I get bread and water.” André tried to swallow but found his throat too dry.
“Well, at least that’s as it should be.” He turned his focus back to André, his dark eyes taking in the prisoner’s squalid appearance. “My name is Dumas. General Thomas-Alexandre Dumas.”
André wondered why the man’s name sounded familiar, and then he knew; his was the name mentioned on the beach in Malta. “I’m André Valière,” he said, quietly. “Formerly a captain in the Army of the Republic.”
“I know who you are.” General Dumas rested a hand on his sword hilt, looking intently at André. “You testified at General Kellermann’s trial.”
André nodded, lowering his eyes to the grimy cell floor.
“He was a good general, and a good man. I told my wife—the day we killed him was the day our Revolution lost the side of the angels.”
André chewed on his lower lip, seasoned now at hiding his true feelings, too frightful to speak anything that might further condemn him.
Dumas continued. “Kellermann was one of the few who supported my promotion to brigadier general.” The more this man spoke, the more distinctly André noted his foreign, rolling cadence. “While many of the others, Murat especially, said there was no way someone so dark-skinned as me should be commanding Frenchmen…so much for their liberty and equality, eh?” Dumas spit in the corner of the cell. “But the past is the past. I’ve proven to them a time or two my mettle.”
André, not knowing what to say, said nothing. But the general continued.
“You look confused, Valière.” General Dumas’s hard stare unsettled André. “Never seen a Negro before?”
“No, sir, it’s not that. It’s just…well, I’ve never seen a black general before. Sir.”
“Well, that’s something we have in common then, Captain,” Dumas said, pacing the small cell. “I’m the son of a Haitian slave, my mother. Never mind the fact that my father was a French lord—most men only see the dark half.” To André’s surprise, the imposing man suddenly flashed a broad smile. “But never mind that now.”
André still did not know what to make of this strange visitor. He asked the first question that came to his mind. “If you please, General Dumas, what time is it?”
“Midnight,” the general answered, still looking around the cell in disgust. “I came down here to see what you were about. This is a waste—having an officer like you locked up. The British are chasing us like a sailor chases whores. We are going to face fire any day now. Whether it’s the Royal Navy or the Mamelukes. Murat is a fool if he thinks we don’t need every able-bodied man above, ready to fight.”
André noticed the quickening of his pulse, the fire of what he was sure had to be hope filling his chest. “Dueys agrees with me,” Dumas said. “That makes a general and a ship’s captain against a general. We outnumber him.”
André swallowed hard. What did this mean?
“Valière, I wasn’t sure about it, but now it’s decided. I’m setting you free.”
André nearly doubled over in shock. “Free? You mean…” André’s voice caught in his throat. He hadn’t dared use the word for so long he had almost forgotten its meaning.
“I mean you are free. Come now, I’ve seen what it means to be a slave, and these conditions rival even that. We’re less than a week’s sail from Egypt. We keep you down here another week and you’re likely to be dead by the time we make land. And then what? No, no, no, this won’t do. We need all the men we can get.”
“But…General Murat—?”
“You let me deal with Murat.” Dumas waved a large hand, frowning. “In fact, I look forward to the chance to tell Nicolai Murat what I really think.”
André could not suppress a short, guttural laugh. He was free—free to leave this dark cell that smelled of piss and filth and what would surely be his death. He could have hugged this man, this strange yet gracious General Dumas. “Thank you, General. Truly, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me now. Perhaps once we’ve gone ashore you’ll prove to me that it was worth it, saving your sorry skin.”
André nodded, managing a smile in spite of all of his recent misery. “Gladly.”
The man paused in the doorway, leaving the door ajar behind him. Now, in the full light for the first time, André noticed just how tall and imposing this half-noble, half-Haitian general really was.