The Sword of the Banshee

by Amanda Hughes

  When she was done washing, she sat back in the tub, letting her arms dangle over the sides. All this talk about the Scotch Irish made her think of Ireland. It had been a long time since she had left home, and she felt a pang of homesickness. If we lost the war here in America, would I flee back to Ireland? She had never considered where she would go if they lost the war. She had, in fact, never really considered losing the war at all. Could I flee to Ireland? Would they pursue me there?

  India sat up suddenly, clutching the sides of the tub. For the first time since she started this fight in America, she truly considered the possibility of losing the war. The thought of a life without Phineas and Quinn was grueling. The thought of a life without purpose was unfathomable.

  India stood up abruptly, water sloshing onto the floor. Her heart was pounding as she dried herself off and pulled on her clothes. With shaking hands, she laced her green brocade bodice and twisted her hair into a knot.

  Lucretia was startled when she walked out of the bedroom. She knew something was wrong with India, but she knew not to ask questions.

  When they had finished helping Mrs. Lamb clean up, India mounted her mare and returned to the wagon. Reverend Lamb had arranged for another meeting at the tavern that night, and she needed to do some chores at the campsite then work on her speech. Late in the afternoon, she sat in the wagon at a small drop leaf desk with a quill in her hand. For the first time in her life, no words would come. Her mind was empty. She had been writing speeches for years, as far back as the early days with Colm, and now she could think of nothing.

  Rubbing her forehead, India tried again, but her mind was blank. She dropped back into her chair.

  Can’t you see? No words are coming because it is over. The British won in Ireland, and they have beaten you in America. This pathetic group of backwoodsmen cannot turn the tide of this war. It’s too late. It is over.

  India did not know how long she sat at the desk, but when she heard a knock at the door, she realized that it had grown dark. It was Lucretia and Algernon. “It’s time,” Algernon said solemnly.

  She nodded her head and followed him up the hill to the tavern. When they opened the door, Reverend Lamb and the Muldoons were seated at a table. No Overmountain men had come to the meeting.

  The innkeeper brought them tankards of beer, and India stood up to address the small group. By rote, she recited a speech she had delivered a hundred times to the repparees back in Ireland, but her words seemed hollow and her movements wooden. India had lost her passion.

  Suddenly the door burst open and several Overmountain men stumbled into the room. They scowled at her and sat down on the benches. More men continued to file into the tavern and sit down. Several of them tripped as they crossed the threshold as if someone was pushing them from behind.

  “Well, I’ll be damned!” someone bellowed at the door. “I saw these lads on the road, and they told me to join them.” It was Quinn Calleigh followed by Ian. Ian let go of the arm of one of the men he was forcing into the the tavern when he spotted India.

  Quinn looked at her and roared, “A female leading a meeting? This I have to see.”

  India blinked in disbelief and her lips parted. Quinn smirked and sat down. He looked as if he had been riding hard for days. He wore a dirty linen shirt, vest and breeches. His boots were spattered with mud and his hair was hanging in dirty tangles around his face. Yet, in spite of the mud and fatigue, there was a sparkle in his eye when he looked at India.

  She raised an eyebrow then continued as if there had been no interruption. The Overmountain men settled in and listened sullenly while she suggested sabotage and harassment techniques and explained the strategy of waging a war of attrition. Quinn remained quiet. When India finished, the Overmountain Men asked no questions and offered no ideas. Their surly attitude continued. They ordered drinks and talked among themselves.

  Quinn and Ian brought tankards of beer over to the table where India sat with Lucretia, Algernon, and the Muldoons. Reverend Lamb joined them as well. India noticed that Quinn still limped, but when he saw her looking at him, she looked away. Thoughts of his tawdry liaison with Emilee infuriated her, and the hurt and betrayal tortured her.

  He sat down beside her and she caught a hint of his musky scent. A thrill passed through her body and this angered her further.

  “Hello, Carrig, Arden,” Quinn said, addressing the Muldoons.

  They nodded a greeting in return.

  Quinn ran his eyes over India. For an entire week he had rehearsed his first words to her when he saw her again, and now his tongue was tied. All he could think about was running his lips down her neck and sliding his rough hands over her smooth breasts, yet there she sat, stiff and unyielding as ever. Well I can be angry too. Why is she so quick to believe the worst in me? Why am I forever chipping away at that frigid exterior? It is no surprise the Overmountain men will not listen to her. Her icy beauty is unapproachable. That homespun attire is no disguise. The aristocratic upbringing and patrician demeanor can not be hidden.

  In spite of himself, Quinn said to India, “All this tonight was to be expected. When I started recruiting sharpshooters up here years ago, I got the same cold reception. Take heart, these men are worth waiting for. They are the best in the Colonies.”

  “It is not you personally, Lady Allen.” Reverend Lamb said apologetically, “They are worried about spring planting now and renewed raids from the Cherokee.”

  “Thank you,” India said graciously, but she knew the truth. “Thank you for rounding them up tonight,” she said looking at Quinn and Ian.

  They shrugged.

  “Too bad we don’t have that lassie from Ireland here,” stated Carrig Muldoon.

  “Who?” asked Algernon.

  “Fitzpatrick was her name. She raised hell with the British a few years back in the old country. They’d listen to her.”

  India's eyes grew large.

  “Orangemen actually joined her fight,” Carrig continued.

  Algernon shook his head and chuckled, “Someone is telling tales.”

  “It’s true,” Arden Muldoon chimed in. “The bloody English bastards were taking their religion away too.”

  Reverend Lamb nodded his head, “That’s why a lot of them came here. They didn’t want no part of the Church of England. A few of them had relatives that stayed home and joined her rebellion instead.”

  India stared straight ahead. No one seemed to notice but Quinn. He knew what she was thinking and cold fear washed over him. He held his breath, watching her closely.

  Reverend Lamb changed the subject but neither India nor Quinn heard him. Suddenly she stood up and announced, “Gentlemen, thank you and good night.” Everyone looked up with surprise as she pushed her chair back, picked up her skirts, and walked out the door.

  “India!” Quinn called, chasing after her. “Wait!”

  India was lost in her thoughts. She walked briskly out the door and down the road in the pouring rain. Quinn raced after her. He slipped in the mud as he grabbed her arm. “Don’t do it! It is suicide!”

  The rain spattered India in the face as she looked up at Quinn. Like a sleep walker, she pulled her arm away and started walking again.

  “If the British know you are Lady Fitzpatrick, they will hunt you down and crucify you.”

  India continued to take long strides away from him. Suddenly Calleigh took her arms and turned her around to face him. The rain was soaking them both, and it was thundering. “Look at me,” he demanded.

  “I am going to tell them,” she said.

  “I forbid it!” he roared. “I have given you your way with everything,” Quinn exclaimed. “When you needed a gentle touch, I was gentle. When you needed me to move slowly, I moved slowly. When you needed to lead, I followed. God damn it, India, when it comes to your well- being, I am in charge.”

  He took her face and bent her head back, kissing her fiercely. India struggled, but Quinn’s grip was like iron. For the first time, Quinn allowed
the full measure of his passion to pass from his body into hers.

  At last, he let her go and India staggered back several steps, staring at him. She put her hands to her face astonished. She had never felt such intensity of emotion from anyone, and it startled her.

  Thunder rumbled and Quinn turned on his heel, disappearing down the road.

  Chapter 37

  The next morning, the Overmountain Men received word that the Cherokees were raiding neighboring settlements, and they left Munroville immediately. It was no surprise that once the snow melted, the warfare resumed. Quinn and Ian went with them.

  India was up all night tossing and turning. On two occasions, she left the wagon and walked the deer path by the stream. Until last night, the Revolution had been her only reason for living, but now Quinn was back. Should I risk it all for the Revolution? Would revealing my identity motivate the Overmountain Men or bring on needless danger? She rubbed her forehead and paced again. The gamble is great, and the stakes are high now that happiness is a possibility once more.

  When she heard the news that Quinn was gone, she left the tavern feeling sick to her stomach. After the heavy rain last night the road was muddy, and she picked up her skirts walking out onto the bridge. Even though Quinn’s words and actions confused her, the intensity of his passion last night on the road told her he was sincere.

  India looked at the stream and her throat tightened. She thought of their idyllic days on the Brandywine River. She could see Phineas fishing and feel Quinn pull on her apron strings as she passed by him. She remembered the scent of fresh cut timber that lingered at the mill and felt the cool breeze on her face by the river. Was all that possible again? The agony of losing her bid for happiness was great.

  Thoughts about her future were pushed aside when the women of the community asked Lucretia and India for help guarding and maintaining their homes. Several men, including Algernon, were left to insure the safety of Munroville, but the absence of the majority of males during spring planting presented a problem. Over the next month, India and Lucretia would roll up their sleeves and travel from cabin to cabin helping with childcare and housekeeping while the women of the settlement worked in the fields plowing and planting. It was demanding work and everyone was on edge watching the woods for Cherokee. India fell into bed each night too exhausted to worry or even consider her future.

  When the men finally returned, the Calleigh brothers were not among them. The Overmountain men said they had business at Sycamore Shoals and did not know when they would return. They also brought word that there had been a bloodbath at a settlement called Waxhaw. The British butcher Tarleton had been victorious over the patriots there in battle and had given little quarter to the men, slaughtering most of those captured.

  India’s breathing quickened.

  “Was anyone taken prisoner?” she asked her hands in fists.

  “Not many,” was the reply.

  She bit her lip and tried to control her breathing. Perhaps Phineas wasn’t there, or if he was, he had escaped. The Overmountain men looked at her strangely. They had never seen this Irishwoman show any kind of emotion. India left the tavern, slamming the door behind her.

  That evening, Reverend Lamb told her that the Hennessey twins were in a town on the North Carolina coast called Bath and requested a meeting with her. India jumped at the idea. They may have news of Phineas.

  The next morning, Algernon and Lucretia climbed onto the wagon, and India mounted her horse. They were headed once more for the Carolina coast. India was happy to be leaving Munroville. The antipathy of the Overmountain men was starting to wear on her, and she looked forward to seeing her old friends again, Prudence and Penelope. Lucretia was relieved to be leaving as well. Her time for confinement was drawing near, and she wanted to be near familiar faces.

  It was approaching midsummer by the time they arrived in Bath, North Carolina. It was a quiet port on the Ocracoke Inlet near the Pamlico River surrounded by tobacco plantations. The town was small but thriving with a grist mill, shipyard and a school.

  The Hennessey twins were staying right in town at the home of a friend. He was an officer in the Continental Army and currently in the field. It was the largest home in Bath, a dark, imposing residence built more in the style of New England dwellings, a stark oblong structure with clapboard siding, shutters and two stone fireplaces. The rooms were small with dusty faded carpets and aging Chippendale furnishings.

  The gloomy surroundings appealed to the eccentric twins. “We positively love it here,” gushed Prudence when they arrived. She had not changed. She was still cloaked in her Diviner’s robe. After the dogs settled down and quit barking, she added, “It is absolutely crawling with spirit life.”

  Algernon put the bags down and looked around. Lucretia looked out the window at a circle of stones and a fire pit near the tree line. “May we have a Diviner’s meeting tonight?” she asked.

  “Of course. That would be delightful,” Prudence said, and she looked at Lucretia’s belly. “We have to prepare for your little one as well.”

  Penelope stepped up and put her hand on India’s cheek. “You look tired, dear.”

  “I have some things to discuss with you,” India said, nodding. Penelope had been right. She had lost weight, and there were dark rings under her eyes.

  After they bathed and ate supper, Algernon and Lucretia excused themselves and went upstairs to prepare for the bonfire. India and the twins moved into the drawing room for coffee and cake. The Hennessey women always had to have a sweet after supper.

  The drawing room was one of the nicer and newer rooms of the house with dark green wainscoting and pumpkin colored drapes. The twins sat side by side on a leather settee eating dainties. They discussed with India the details of the expanded network that was necessary in the South now that the British had shifted their campaign.

  “Our Continental Army is faltering,” Penelope said. “It will be mainly a partisan war from now on and that is where we come in.”

  India agreed. She listened to their news from General Gates, and then they explained new and completely astonishing ideas for sabotage and harassment techniques from poison to homemade explosives. As usual, she was astounded. How did these harmless looking old ladies devise such deadly strategies? India looked up nervously at the ceiling. She wondered, for a moment, if the spirits were indeed guiding these two.

  “Now dear, if you are in agreement, we will send out runners tonight and start to employ these strategies,” Prudence said.

  “Yes, ladies, these are truly brilliant ideas,” said India.

  They smiled sweetly at her as if she had just complimented their cake.

  “Have you heard anything about Phineas? Was he at Waxhaw?” India asked, anxiously.

  The twins looked at each other and shook their heads apologetically. “We don’t know, dear but we will put a trace on him starting tonight.”

  India swallowed hard and nodded. “I would appreciate it.”

  The twins watched her closely. They knew something else was bothering her.

  “There is something else that I must discuss with you,” India said with a sigh, and she rubbed her forehead. “It is a dilemma that I am having. It is regarding my true identity and whether to reveal it or not. I am unsure whether it will help motivate followers or simply create unnecessary risk. You see back in Ireland my name was--”

  Prudence interrupted. “We know dear who you are and what you did back home.”

  India’s jaw dropped. “That I was leader of a rebellion?”

  They nodded.

  “Did Quinn tell you?”

  “Who?” Penelope asked.

  “She is referring to Mr. Calleigh, I believe,” explained Prudence, cocking her head and smiling at India.

  “Don’t try to tell me the spirits informed you,” India exclaimed.

  Their eyebrows shot up. “Why yes. That’s right,” Prudence said with pride. “They did!”

  India sighed and nodded, decid
ing to hold her tongue about the spirits. “I thought perhaps, you ladies may be able to shed some light on this for me.”

  They blinked at her innocently for a moment.

  “We are flattered that you are consulting us,” Penelope said, bending down and picking up one of the little dogs. “It is, of course, for you to decide. Is it a risk worth taking? Do you think you still have the power to inspire?”

  “Let the spirits tell you,” said Prudence. “They will know.”

  India nodded her head and sat quietly for a moment her eyes on the carpet. At last she looked up and said, “I believe the spirits have been telling me what to do all along. Friday next, I will make the announcement in Munroville.”

  * * *

  Shortly after their discussion, India retired to her bed chamber. She was tired and relieved that at last she had made the decision. She knew that she could never live with herself if she did not exhaust every possibility to win this war, even if it was a futile attempt which risked her life.

  She undressed behind an Oriental screen and put on an indigo blue silk dressing gown that she found in the mahogany wardrobe. Just as she was about to crawl into bed, she noticed the glow of a fire outside her window.

  India walked to the window seat and sat down, looking at the clearing toward the back of the house that had a fire pit. Algernon, Lucretia, Prudence, and Penelope stood by the fire holding hands. Their eyes were closed, and they appeared to be chanting something. India noticed that as they chanted, the fire would leap suddenly high into the night sky as if some unseen force fueled it and gave it energy. And then, just as fast, it would drop back to its former height. The Diviner’s did not appear to have anything to do with it. They had not unclasped their hands to add fuel or tossed salts on to it. India gazed in wonder at the phenomenon. It raised the hair on her arms, and she was reminded once more of the blaze long ago at Cragmere Ruins when she was a child. It seemed like bonfires accompanied all the great moments of her life. She let the drapes drop over the window to darken the room and crawled into bed.