A Simple Deception

VII

"The white man's happiness cannot be purchased by the black man's misery." Frederick Douglass

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VII.

Alex walked back into the tent at Hyde Park alone to put Argent away before he retired to the inn for the night. He ran his hand soothingly along her white coat, which looked as silver as her name in the clear moonlight.

Argent whinnied happily at his touch, and Alex smiled. He smiled because this horse was no longer the only one who didn't cower at or avoid his touch. As much as he was numb to the looks, the comments, the aggression and the flinching of people who he came near, he wasn't completely oblivious.

Alex was a very long way from anyone who cared about him and being so far away made it quite easy for the loneliness to creep in, and for memories of poor interactions to fill his mind. While they had been a pair, his horse had been the only creature who treated him decently.

Susanna was a rare woman. Alex wondered if she truly realised just how rare she was. She did not deserve to be duped by him, and Alex sincerely hoped that the man lucky enough to win her hand truly knew what a diamond he would possess.

Alex safely stowed Argent before leaving the camp and heading back toward the inn where Len would be. Alex took a deep breath as he walked down the street, focussing his thoughts so that he might come up with a plausible story, something convincing enough to steer Len away from any idea of Susanna. They needed to leave London and find someplace else, someone new.

As Alex walked down the street where the inn was, he noticed that the public buildings were livelier than the ones on Susanna's street. He could hear the jovial music from the taverns and the drunken laughter coming from the patrons.

Alex kept his head down.

"Look, lads!" cried a slurred voice from behind Alex. "Look, it's a negro!"

Alex kept walking, upping his pace, though not running to incite a chase. He would never usually be out at night, as this had been Len's idea.

Alex wouldn't have been afraid. If he was allowed to defend himself under the law, then a man of his strength and size could protect himself quite nicely. But he wasn't. If he struck a white man and was charged, he could be hanged.

He wouldn't be any good to anyone dangling from a noose.

"Hey, hey wog!" cried the voices from behind Alex. Alex could hear that the man, or men, were following him. "

Alex didn't know that word. Or at least he did not know the French translation for it, though he could infer from the man's tone that it was some sort of slur meant to harm him.

"We're talking to you, blackie!"

Alex kept walking, knowing the inn was only a few blocks away. He kept a keen eye on the footsteps behind him as his heart thundered in his chest. And then the footsteps quickened, and the men began to run. As soon as they did, then so did he.

Alex's long legs allowed him to take powerful strides as he ran towards the inn, but just as he came to run across the last street before he would reach safety, two men rounded the corner, their clouded, drunken eyes trained on him. He practically skidded to a stop as he looked over his shoulder. Three more men had quickly closed in on him, and Alex was surrounded.

He breathed heavily, knowing that these five would be no match for him if he could fight, but he needed to protect himself, needed to ensure that when they were finished doing whatever they would, that he would be alright.

He could remember his mother telling him to protect his head and his neck. Whenever you took a beating, the head and neck needed to be safe.

Then men were all dressed quite impressively. They looked to be dressed quite like that pompous fool that Susanna's mother was trying to marry her off to ... in fact ...