Chapter 10.

“You have nothing to free him from, Mister Duke! He belongs to me!” The man argues, his voice growing impatient.

Jacob ignores the other man and fixes a steady gaze on John Allen. A small crowd has gathered, watching the scene.

Hesitating, John Allen darts a frantic glance to the other man across from them, before he shifts his eyes to Jacob.

“Duke Sir…I be asking nothing much.” John Allen wrings his hands nervously in front of him. His body quivering as he speaks.

“I be asking Master Tim Allen about ma freedom papers, which he be promised me, if I companied him to here England.” His gaze shifts briefly to a glaring Tim Allen.

“So you are not passing to Calais as he said?” Jacob asserts. His tone neutral.

John Allen shakes his head

The gesture sending a whiff of stench.

“One more question, if you please, gentleman.” Jacob presses, ignoring the stench.

Therese like every other person watches anxiously. The air tensed.

“Does this mean you are Mr Tim Allen’s slave?” Jacob questions, the words mirroring the silent dread that passed through everyone the moment the scene unfolded.

“John, beware what you do! This ye English won’t help you.” Tim Allen warns, his tone edgy.

“Ignore him. Just fix your eyes on me, when you answer.” Jacob maintains.

A quick glance to where Tim stands, John finally nods.

There is a certain boldness that suddenly creeps over him, like Jacob’s words have given him courage.

Nodding his head in understanding, Jacob lifts his gaze to his brother, a silent message passing between them.

Then shifting a brief glance to Therese, one which is unreadable, he turns to the furious Tim Allen. His face suddenly drained of all humor. All kindness vanished, Jacob speaks.

“You Sir, are despicable.” Jacob growls, his tone low but carrying all the undercurrent of disdain that courses through him.

“Turning your fellow man into a slave is reprehensible. And you have no right to do that, especially in England.” Jacob’s hard gaze bores into Tim Allen, unnerving the man for a second, before he regains his composure.

Drawing closer to Jacob, Tim Allen levels a hard gaze of his own. Joseph instantly comes to stand protectively beside his brother, staring down at Tim Allen.

Tim Allen is an inch shorter than Jacob and Joseph, but he doesn’t allow that deter him. His breath smelling of stale tobacco and alcohol, he sneers.

“You, Duke have no right to go into my matters. You don’t want me as your enemy.”

His warning would have instilled fear in another man, but not Jacob. He's used to meeting men like this in his line of business. Men who oppress other men with their ruthlessness.

“I am Lord Jacob Wilson, Duke Orford. You Sir, stand on a land I swore to protect before the crown. And here, slavery across these waters have become a crime, under the Slave Trade Felony Act of 1811. One which you are currently guilty of, my friend.” Jacob smirks, confidently.

Even though Tim Allen doesn’t have a shackle to the man’s hands or ankles, the fact that John attested to being his slave, is evidence enough.

There it is, the chink in Tim Allen’s armor, which he had expected.

Jacob can’t help but relish in the pleasure of seeing Tim Allen’s earlier confidence falter. The man shifts an anxious gaze behind Jacob, his eyes lingering on Therese, before they return to him.

“You can keep John for all I care. But this isn’t over, I promise you. Not by a long shot.” Tim Allen retorts, furiously.

“No this is over. If I see you anywhere near England again, I would have you locked up forever and you can bid good bye to your own freedom.” The words said by Jacob, though ordinary, carry a threat to them that resonate with all the venom that fills Jacob.

Raw despise for this man, who can deprive another human being of his God-given right to freedom.

Sweeping a shaky gaze around, Tim Allen gives one last look at John, before he marches out of their sights in the direction of a ship.

The others watch as Tim argues with another man on the ship, their eyes darting repeatedly to where they stand.

In a few moments, the ship pulls out of the docks. It is only then that the tension eases and the small crowd disperses.

“Joseph.” Without shifting his eyes from the retreating ship, Jacob calls to his brother in a low voice.

“I want you to find out everything about that Tim Allen.”

Joseph nods his head, his eyes equally lingering on the retreating ship.

Turning around to face the others, his eyes on Therese for a brief second before they shift to Joseph, Jacob instructs.

“Joseph, help the ladies and their belongings to the carriage and come back here.” Joseph nods and proceeds with his elder brother’s directives.

When Jacob is sure that he is alone with John, he turns to the nervous man.

“John, how would you like to have a new life, a new identity?” Jacob eyes him steadily.

He catches sight of Joseph helping the women with their belongings.

He shifts his gaze to John, sensing his hesitation.

“Don’t be nervous, John. You can speak freely.” Jacob encourages.

He places one hand on John, whose eyes grow wide in alarm.

“Please Duke Sir, don’t touch me. I be covered in dirt.” John pleads.

Jacob gives him a sympathetic look. His heart wrenching at the inhumanity inflicted upon humans by their kind.

He had seen the atrocities that the disease, slavery, had caused on men all around the world, during his travels.

And as soon as he gained power, he joined in the fight against slavery. Adding his voice in parliament to trample upon the depraved, dehumanizing practice.

Returning his mind to the situation at hand, Jacob tries again.

“You are a human, like my brother and I. Like every one here. We all bleed the same, we all have the same internal structure. The only thing that separates us is opportunities.” Jacob reassures, his eyes showing a kindness that mirrors his heart.

A shift crosses John’s eyes, his expression wistful.

“So, can we try this again? What new identity would you like?”