Prelude to Glory, Vol. 4
Page 84
“Oh, Ben, you brought me a gift. You couldn’t have done better.” She looked at Eli.
The men did the evening chores. Supper was a time of unending chatter. Lydia insisted she wash the dishes alone, Ben shook his head, and while she washed, he dried, with her telling him the whole time it was woman’s work. In the late evening, Ben opened the family Bible and gathered them all around the dining table. Ben turned the pages to Proverbs, chapter 31, and began to read:
“Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life. She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands. . . . she bringeth her food from afar. . . . with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard. . . . she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.”
Lydia was still, holding Samuel while she stared quietly at the tabletop. Eli never took his eyes from his sister as he listened. In his mind, Billy was seeing the hazel eyes and the face of Brigitte. Ben read on:
“She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; . . . She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. . . . beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.”
Ben quietly closed the book. For a time they sat in silence, aware that they were sharing something rare and powerful and good. Samuel moved, and Lydia kissed his hair. Ben looked at her, and when he did, Eli saw something in his eyes akin to worship. Eli glanced again, then looked away.
Ben spoke quietly. “It’s late.” He looked at Eli and Billy. “We have prayer at night. Would you join us?”
They knelt beside their chairs, and Ben bowed his head. “Almighty God, for thy great goodness we thank thee. For all thy blessings on this household we acknowledge thy hand . . .”
Billy and Eli took their blankets to the bedding straw inside the small barn. In the quiet darkness, Eli turned to him.
“I never dared to hope my sister could have what she’s got.”
Billy thought for a time. “I wish I knew why men can’t spend their lives that way. Family. Home. Building something.” A deep sadness crept into his voice. “How many men have you and I seen crippled and killed? Five thousand? Ten? And for what? Sometimes it seems like all they really want is what Ben and Lydia have right here. Why can’t they see it?”
“I wish I knew. One thing I do know, Ben and Lydia understand what peace means, and where it comes from.”
They laid back on their blankets and drifted into a weary, dreamless sleep.
The piercing crow of the bantam rooster woke them. They washed and took their places at the dining table for hot oatmeal, fried eggs, fresh white bread, honey, and buttermilk, and the men ate in reverent silence while Lydia watched them, glowing.
They finished, each of them paid their respects to Lydia, and they moved out to do the morning chores. At noon they gathered back at the cabin for the midday meal.
Billy turned to Ben and Eli. “I think I had better go on back to find General Washington. Eli, you should stay for a while. “
Eli reflected for a moment. “I think I will, if it’s all right with Ben and Lydia.”
Ben brightened. “Of course!”
Lydia spoke from the stove. “As long as you will.”
“Winter’s coming on. I can help get the rest of the grain in, and the potatoes and squash. Maybe we can finish the extra room. The trenches are dug. All we have to do is cut and notch the logs. There’s pigs to get ready for winter meat. Maybe I can help with that. Earn my keep.”
Ben bobbed his head. “It’s settled.”
With the noon meal finished, Billy rolled his blanket, gathered his bullet pouch and powder horn, shouldered his musket, and walked back to the house. They met him at the door. He shook Ben’s hand.
“It’s been special here with your family. I won’t forget.”
He turned to Lydia, and she spoke. “You’ll come back, won’t you? Sometime?”
“I promise I’ll try.”
He turned to Eli. What lay between the two men required no handshake, no embrace.
“I will see you later.”
“I’ll come when we finish getting ready for winter. Tell Mary if you see her.”
“I will. Be careful.”
“Follow the lake on south, then the Hudson.”
Billy smiled. “I know. I can live in the forest.”
“I know you can. Watch yourself.”
Billy nodded his head once, then turned and strode across the clearing. He turned at the far end to look back, and they were there. Eli was beside Lydia, who held Samuel in her arms. Ben was on her other side, holding Hannah. For just a moment Billy stood still, memorizing the clearing, the cabin, the people.
Then he turned and walked into the splendor of the autumn forest, musket in his right hand, the sun warm on his shoulders.
Notes
Billy and Eli and Eli’s sister and her husband and family are fictional.
Acknowledgments
* * *
Richard B. Bernstein, Esq., noted Revolutionary War authority, continued his excellent guidance of the historical accuracy of this work, for which the writer remains most grateful. The staff of the publisher, most notably Richard Peterson, associate editor, and Richard Erickson, art director, and Jana Erickson spent many hours in the detail of preparing the manuscript, jacket, composition, and artwork. Harriette Abels, long-time consultant, mentor, and good friend, again shared her wisdom and encouragement. The author depended in large part on the monumental work of Richard M. Ketchum, Saratoga, for much of the detail in this volume. Mr. Ketchum has blessed this country greatly with his outstanding research and his writing about our beginnings.
Without question, the most powerful contributors to this work are those heroes of so long ago, whose spirit continues to reach across time to touch the words as they take shape on the page. The author knows he is but the scribe.
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