Louis Javier knew that the mob was coming for them when he saw the torches off in the rain shrouded distance. He huddled under the stone arch seeking refuge from the downpour that obscured his vision. He looked out from the gateway of a crumbling stone wall as he considered running, but he knew that his wife would not be able to run far. There was nowhere to run to. She had been vomiting that morning. She had reluctantly confirmed his suspicions that she was with child. That was to be expected after three months of an ill considered marriage and desperate, sometimes reckless lovemaking. He hefted the saber in his right hand as he contemplated their fate.
Louis felt Marie embracing him from behind as he watched the torches. He turned away from the distant, slowly approaching mob to embrace his bride. As he released her, he noticed that she was wearing the same white, lace nightgown that she had worn on their wedding night. An abiding crimson stain on the front of the gown attested to the fact that she had been a virgin when they knelt at the altar together. The plunging neckline of the gown's bodice accentuated her swelling breasts. Being with child had only enhanced her beauty. The sight of her nipples and small, pink aurolaes showing through the sheer, wet fabric provoked Louis' desire as well as his terror.
Marie wailed, "what shall we do?"
The taste of defeat was bitter in Louis' mouth. "I am the best swordsman on all of Hispaniola. I was the best swordsman on our island even before the slave revolt killed so many of us Frenchmen. If a single expert swordsman could prevail over a mob such as this, a thousand of us should have prevailed over half a million rebellious slaves. If such were possible, we would still be ruling from the comfort of our grand mansion on our plantation rather than cowering in this lowly hovel. Unfortunately; we killed to many of these savages in our futile struggle to prevail. They will never forgive us. I myself have already killed to many of these rebellious Negro slaves to harbor any hope that they might show mercy to me. However; there is still hope that they might show you mercy."
Marie was shocked. "Would you have me, your own wife, accept the amnesty?"
"That is your decision to make, not mine. However much the thought of your submission distresses me, I want you to live. I want my baby who is growing inside of you to live. Jean Jacques Dessalines himself has decreed that any white woman who submits to marriage to a Negro man will be spared. Your submission to the terms of this amnesty is your only hope to survive. Your submission is our baby's only hope to survive."
Mary looked out at the torches approaching their hovel. "What hope will our baby have to survive if I am gang raped by this Negro rabble? Can we not escape somehow?"
"We have already attempted to buy passage on a ship at Porta-au-Prince then again at Port-de-Paix. No Captain would dare take us even when we offered them your jewels as well as our Gold," Louis reminded his wife.
Marie pleaded, "can we not escape to the East end of the Island? Certainly the Spaniards would not deny sanctuary to fellow Catholics!"
Louis explained patiently, "the interior frontier is largely wild land yet heavily patrolled. You would not be strong enough to swim the rivers now during the rainy season or climb the mountains even if you were not with child. The Spaniards are cowed by the threat that the slave army will march East to take the entire island."
"What of all of those heroic battles that you have told me of? What about Thermopylae? What about King Leonidas and the Three Hundred who stood off the Persian hoards? What of Horatius, Spurius and Titus who held the bridge to Rome against the Etruscans?" Marie glared at her husband, challenging him to save her from being ravaged by the mob.
Louis appraised the gateway in the crumbling wall. He had noted earlier that the back gate was intact. The wall itself had never been an insurmountable obstacle but it was mostly intact. Louis had been inspired to briefly consider rebuilding the front gate and repairing the walls. However; the fear of drawing attention to the abandoned hovel had dissuaded Louis from attempting to fortify their refuge.
Louis made his decision. "I will make a stand here at this gate. Perhaps the mob will not be as large as I fear? The narrow passage will negate the advantage of their greater numbers. Perhaps I can kill enough of them to deter the rest from pressing an attack?"
Marie asked, "but what if you should be cut down by the rabble? What should I do then?"
Louis considered the question as he appraised the approaching mob. They were close enough that he could see the individual torches. There were to many torches to be easily counted. "This courtyard is no Bastille. It is not an impregnable fortress. Even if I prevail against their initial assault, they might simply outflank me just as the Persians outflanked Leonidas and The Three Hundred. If I have killed to many of them, the survivors will be to enraged to not ravish and kill you. Perhaps you should reconsider pleading for the amnesty?"