Returning—somewhat worse for wear—to the house, everyone forgathers in Jocasta’s rooms to discuss recent events, compare information, and try to make sense of things.
It’s Roger who suggests that the key to the whole affair may be the priest. It looks very much as though someone had tried to poison Duncan—or at least to render him unconscious. Duncan is himself innocuous—but if he were dead (perhaps knocked on the head, or perhaps pushed into the river, to give the appearance of an accidental drowning), someone else might seize Jocasta, force the priest to marry her to the plotter, and thus gain ownership of River Run. That supposition focuses attention on Lieutenant Wolff, who had been present at the party but was seen leaving in a boat.
What if, Claire suggests, the lieutenant went downriver to meet Stephen Bonnet, coming back secretly with him? After all, someone’s discovering the existence of the gold is one thing—disposing of it clandestinely is another, and who better to do that than a pirate and smuggler? And of the two men who attacked Jocasta and Duncan, one never spoke—presumably because Jocasta would have recognized his voice.
And why was the slave Betty (Phaedre’s mother) murdered? Because, Claire suggests, she could—and would—have told who it was that gave her the cup of punch to give to Duncan; a cup he rejected because his stomach was upset from nervousness, leaving Betty to drink it herself. Nothing simpler than for the plotter—or one of them—to steal up to the slaves’ attic and slip Betty a syllabub full of ground glass, assuming that her subsequent death from gastric hemorrhage would be put down to disease—as indeed it would have been, without Claire’s midnight autopsy.
This all hangs together as a plausible theory—but as Claire points out, there’s no way of proving it. The one thing they do know is that Stephen Bonnet will be back—a thought that makes Brianna go pale with fear.
Leaving Jocasta and Duncan to fortify the house and post guards, the Frasers and MacKenzies depart next day for the mountains. They are no more than five miles down the road, however, when Major MacDonald catches them up, delightedly brandishing a letter from the governor:
To the Commanding Officers of the Militia:
Sirs:
I Yesterday determined by Consent of His Majesty’s Council to march with a Body of Forces taken from several Militia Regiments, into the Settlements of the Insurgents to reduce them to Obedience…
“Bloody, bloody, fucking hell,” I said softly, again, with emphasis. Major MacDonald blinked. Jamie glanced at me, and the corner of his mouth twitched up.
“Aye, well,” he said. “Nearly a month. Just time to get the barley in.”
PART 6: THE WAR OF THE REGULATION
Tryon’s troops gather, and so do the Regulators, the two bodies coming together near Alamance Creek. There are a good three thousand Regulators, irregularly armed, but armed nonetheless. The governor’s troops are fewer in number and no better armed, being militia—but they have one vital thing the Regulators lack: leadership.
Roger MacKenzie has three important encounters on this momentous day: first with Hermon Husband, and then with Morag Gunn MacKenzie.
Husband, who has done his best to inflame the Regulators with his pamphleteering and public rabble-rousing, is appalled at the fruits of his labors. He has strong opinions regarding the rights of the colonists and the injustices of the Crown, but he is a Quaker; his sentiments stop well short of inciting actual violence. At the same time, he is the only thing approaching a leader that the Regulators have. If he leaves them without strong leadership, they may disperse peaceably—but if they don’t, they may well be slaughtered by Tryon’s troops.
He shuts himself in an abandoned cabin, agonized by the situation. Roger, sent by Jamie to see if Hermon will order his men to disperse before blood is shed, goes in to speak to him, and Husband asks him to pray with him. They do pray together, in the silent Quaker manner, and during the prayer Roger experiences a remarkable clarity of vision that both enlightens and shakes him. The visitation, if that’s what it is, has also clarified things for Husband; he cannot stay and engage in or encourage physical violence—he exhorts his followers from horseback to disperse, and then he leaves, hoping they will follow.
They don’t.
Making his way down the riverbank, Roger meets unexpectedly with Morag Gunn MacKenzie, the woman—his four-times great-grandmother—whom he’d met once before, aboard the Gloriana, when he saved her infant son from being thrown overboard by Stephen Bonnet. He stops to ask after her welfare, and that of her child, and experiences a sense of great tenderness and connection toward her—one that seems to be shared, although she urges him to go. He does but, in parting, kisses her.
Raising his head from this tender but chaste gesture, he has the third significant encounter of the day—with William Buccleigh MacKenzie, Morag’s husband (and Roger’s four-times great-grandfather).
Roger resisted his original impulse, which had been to say, “It’s not what you think.” It wasn’t, but there weren’t any plausible alternatives to suggest.
William Buccleigh launches himself at Roger, chasing him into the water. As he readies himself to lunge, there is a deep boom of cannon—the battle has begun.
Jamie and his militia are compelled to fight—reluctant as many of them are to fire on friends or neighbors. Jamie himself fires deliberately to miss, though he does run down and capture a man. Joe Hobson, one of the original Hillsborough rioters, is killed, mostly by mistake, and Claire, helped by Brianna, is busy treating the wounded in the aftermath of the short, chaotic battle.
Meanwhile, Roger is overpowered by William Buccleigh MacKenzie and one of Buccleigh’s friends, who tie and gag him. They give him up to the governor, claiming that he is one James MacQuiston, a known Regulator.
Tryon, intending to quash the Regulation once and for all, makes a stern example, pardoning some of the apparent leaders but hanging another dozen outright. Claire is working with the wounded when Morag Gunn arrives, missing one shoe and breathless, and blurts out Roger’s name, followed by, “Hang…they…they are…hanging him! Gov-ner!”
They are.
He dangled, kicking, and heard a far-off rumble from the crowd. He kicked and bucked, feet pawing empty air, hands clawing at his throat. Chest strained, back arched, and his sight had gone black, small lightnings flickering in the corners of his eyes. He reached for God and heard no plea for mercy deep within himself but only the shriek of no! that echoed in his bones.
And then the stubborn impulse left him and he felt his body stretch and loosen, reaching, reaching for the earth. A cool wind embraced him and he felt the soothing warmth of his body’s voidings. A brilliant light blazed up behind his eyes, and he heard nothing more but the bursting of his heart and the distant cries of an orphaned child.
Jamie and the others arrive at the site of the hanging—too late. Bodies hang from the tree, all apparently lifeless. Jamie goes at once to take Roger’s body, uncaring what the governor may do about it, and, seizing Roger, orders Brianna to cut him down. As Bree does so, though, Jamie realizes with shock that Roger is still alive—though his throat is so mangled by the rope that he won’t be for more than a few moments longer.
Claire leaps into action and, by performing an emergency cricothrotomy with her scalpel, succeeds in saving Roger’s life.
I must not stab too deeply. I felt the fibrous parting of skin and fascia, resistance, then the soft pop as the blade went in. There was a sudden loud gurgle, and a wet kind of whistling noise; the sound of air being sucked through blood. Roger’s chest moved. I felt it, and it was only then that I realized my eyes were still shut.
Roger has survived being hanged and, very slowly, begins to recover. His voice, however, has been destroyed, and for months he is unable to talk. Brianna and Roger are houseguests of a prominent couple called the Sherstons, who engage Brianna to do a painting for them and go out of their way to give aid to Roger, who is famous as a result of his survival. Looking after him with fierce protectiveness min
gled with fear, Brianna can only hope that her love, and the presence of Jemmy, will be enough to pull him out of his silent depression.
PART 7: ALARMS OF STRUGGLE AND FLIGHT
It is in fact Jemmy who causes Roger to speak—to save the little boy from being burned by a hot coffeepot.
“STOKH!” he roared.
It was a terrible cry, loud and harsh, but with a ghastly strangled quality to it, like a shout forced out around a fist shoved down his throat. It froze everyone in earshot—including Jemmy, who had abandoned the fireflies and stealthily returned to an investigation of the coffeepot. He stared up at his father, his hand six inches from the hot metal. Then his face crumpled, and he began to wail in fright.
In the aftermath of Alamance, Jamie confronts Governor Tryon over Roger’s hanging, and in what is not quite an apology, Tryon gives Roger a land grant of five thousand acres. In hopes of giving Roger a sense of purpose—and time alone to heal—Jamie sends him out to survey both his new land and Jamie’s; a good description of the land and a legal deed will be important to retaining or recovering the land, in the wake of the Revolution that Claire and the MacKenzies know is coming.
Roger takes the astrolabe sent by Lord John and goes out into the wilderness to survey. In the process, he meets with a band of runaway slaves living deep in the wood, who attack and take him prisoner. His life is saved by Fanny Beardsley, who is living with them—her lover (and her baby’s father) being one of them. Roger returns home, sounder in mind, and with renewed appreciation for his family.
“You can talk,” she said, wiping hastily at her eyes with the back of a wrist. “I mean—better.” Once, she would have hesitated to touch his throat, fearful of his feelings, but instinct knew better than to waste the sudden intimacy of shock. The strain might come again, and they be strangers, but for a moment, for this moment in the dark, she could say anything, do anything, and she put her fingers on the warm ragged scar, touched the incision that had saved his life, a clean white line through the whiskers.
“Does it still hurt to talk?”
“It hurts,” he said, in the faint croaking rasp, and his eyes met hers, dark and soft in the moonlight. “But I can. I will—Brianna.”
She stepped back, one hand on his arm, unwilling to let go.
“Come in,” she said. “It’s cold out here.”
Brianna is happy to have Roger back—but the burden of her dreaming returns; Stephen Bonnet haunts her. Roger, taking hold of himself and his position as protector of his family, becomes sure that he has to help Jamie find Bonnet—and kill him.
“Preacher’s lad.” That’s what the other lads at school had called him, and that’s what he was, with all the ambiguity the term implied. The initial urge to prove himself manly by means of force, the later awareness of the ultimate moral weakness of violence. But that was in another country—
He choked off the rest of the quotation, grimly bending to lever a chunk of rock free of moss and dirt. Orphaned by war, raised by a man of peace—how was he to set his mind to murder? He trundled the stone down toward the field, rolling it slowly end over end.
“You’ve never killed anything but fish,” he muttered to himself. “What makes you think…” But he knew all too well what made him think.
And so, knowing that his eyesight makes him uncertain with a pistol, he asks Jamie Fraser to teach him to fight with a sword.
Jamie and Roger are agreed about the need to remove Bonnet and begin to make their preparations. Jamie teaches Roger the rudiments of sword-fighting and takes him to buy a decent weapon. Leaving the smith’s shop with the new sword, Roger encounters Dr. Fentiman, very drunk, and the doctor genially challenges him to a fight.“A test of skill, sir?” The doctor whipped his sword to and fro, so the narrow blade sang as it cut the air. “First to pink his man, first to draw blood is the victor, what say you?”
Roger has no choice but to accept and acquits himself creditably, though the fight is ended not by his skill but by the doctor’s eagerness: The doctor, sensing weakness, leapt forward, bellowing, blade pointed. Roger took a half-step sideways, and the doctor shot past, grazing the hock of the draft horse in his path.
The horse emitted an outraged scream, and promptly sent swordsman and sword flying through the air, to crash against the front of the cobbler’s shop. The doctor fell to ground like a crushed fly, surrounded by lasts and scattered shoes. Still, the fight has shown Roger something about himself and his own capabilities—and has shown the same things to Jamie. When Jamie asks Roger about the balance of the new sword, Roger replies, “It will do.”
“Good,” said Jamie. “So will you,” he added casually, turning away to pay the smith.
PART 8: A-HUNTING WE WILL GO
Life doesn’t stop for the making of war, and food is a necessity. Luckily, a small herd of buffalo (wood bison) has been spotted in the nearby mountains, and Jamie, with Roger, Fergus, and a few other men, set out hunting one bright morning.
There are buffalo, but while chasing the herd downhill, Jamie gets off a shot, then has the misfortune to step on a snake. Roger is nearby and rushes up just as Jamie kills the snake with the butt of his rifle. The other men had gone off to try to circle round the herd; Jamie and Roger are alone on the mountain, with night coming on—and Jamie has been bitten, his leg already beginning to swell.
Roger renders what first aid is possible, then settles down to build a fire, cook the snake, and lend what comfort he can, hoping that help will come in the morning. It’s a long night, during which both men are faced with the stark fact that Jamie is very likely to die as his symptoms worsen. Jamie points out that if he does die, that will prove that history can be changed—for Roger and Brianna had found a news clipping in the future, stating that Jamie, Claire, and their family were all killed in a house fire—a fire that may or may not take place in three years.
An acerbic discussion regarding the philosophy of time travel, predestination, and choice takes place, during which Roger grapples with his fear of losing Jamie, realizes the depth of his love and respect for the man—and faces the even greater fear of being left to lead the family, the militia, and the Ridge by himself if Jamie dies.
Well aware of the gap he will leave, Jamie takes pains to tell Roger everything he knows of the men on the Ridge, among the Indian villages, and the influential people of the colony. What to do, when to do it, how to manage.
“Tell Brianna I’m glad of her,” Fraser whispered. “Give my sword to the bairn….”
[Roger] waited as long as he thought he dared, the cold night creeping past in lonely minutes. Then leaned close, so Fraser could hear him.
“Claire?” he asked quietly. “Is there anything ye’d have me tell her?”
He thought he’d waited too long; Fraser lay motionless for several minutes. Then the big hand stirred, half-closing swollen fingers; the ghost of a motion, grasping after time that slipped away.
“Tell her…I meant it.”
Jamie and Roger are found early the next day, and Jamie is taken home to the Ridge, where Claire is faced with treating an advanced case of rattlesnake bite, with concomitant infection—either of which may easily kill Jamie but won’t do it quickly. While she’s hastily making what preparations she can for treating his wounds, she sends Brianna out to look for maggots—and then sits down to look over her instruments, her heart cold in the knowledge that she may have no option but to amputate Jamie’s leg, in spite of his insistence that he’d rather die.
Brianna is searching for maggots, but what shows up is somewhat larger—one of the buffalo the men were chasing days before has now wandered down the mountain and is in the yard of the house, where it looms over small Jemmy.
Swinging into mother-bear mode, Brianna rushes toward the beast and stuns it with an ax blow to the neck. This doesn’t kill it, but Marsali, right behind, seizes a dyed petticoat hung on a bush to dry and flings it over the beast’s head, blinding it. Claire, hearing the hullaballoo, rushes out of the ho
use, amputation saw in hand, and, throwing herself on the beast, cuts its throat.
Brianna, backed up by Roger and Fergus, asserts her right to the kill and very competently oversees the butchering and distribution of the meat, while Claire tends Jamie. He asks to be taken up to his bed and for the windows to be left open, so that he can hear the festivities taking place outside over the buffalo’s carcass. Then, as the night draws in, he asks Claire to come to bed with him, which she gingerly does.
She wakes in the night, alarmed by her physician’s sense, realizing that Jamie is sinking and about to die. He asks her to touch him—and she does, with every bit of her healer’s skill, and succeeds in drawing him back from the edge of death.
“You bastard,” I said, so relieved to feel the rise of his chest as he drew breath that my voice trembled. “You tried to die on me, didn’t you?”
His chest rose and fell, rose and fell, under my hand, and my own heart jerked and shuddered, as though I had been pulled back at the last moment from an unexpected precipice.
He blinked at me. His eyes were heavy, still clouded with fever.
“It didna take much effort, Sassenach,” he said, his voice soft and husky from sleep. “Not dying was harder.”
Claire, assisted by the Bugs, who bring her moldy garbage to be distilled into penicillin, and by Brianna, who devises a hypodermic syringe from a rattlesnake’s fang, injects Jamie’s leg in multiple places and succeeds against all odds in saving both his life and his leg.
The Companion to the Fiery Cross, a Breath of Snow and Ashes, an Echo in the Bone, and Written in My Own Heart's Blood Page 5