The Fiery Cross

by Diana Gabaldon

  "All right," I said. "And what are you intending to do while I'm about it?" "I'm going to go and f

  etch the bairns," he said, and with a quick squeeze of my hand for luck, he was off down the trail.

  I WAS STILL WONDERING exactly what he meant by that cryptic statement-which "bairns"? Why?-as I came within sight of the open tent flap, but all speculation was driven from my mind by the appearance of a gentleman therein who met Marsalis description of "a nasty, fat man" so exactly that I had no doubt of his identity. He was short and toadlike, with a receding hairline, a belly that strained the buttons of a food-stained linen vest, and small, beady

  ood eyes that watched me as though assessing my immediate prospects as a f

  item. "Good day to you, ma'am," he said. He viewed me without enthusiasm, no doubt finding me less than toothsome, but inclined his head with formal respect.

  "Good day," I replied cheerily, dropping him a brief curtsy. Never hurt to be polite-at least not to start with. "You'll be the sheriff, won't you? I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure of a formal introduction. I'm Mrs. Fraser-Mrs. James Fraser, of Fraser's Ridge."

  "David Anstruther, Sheriff of Orange County-your servant, ma'am," he said, bowing again, though with no real evidence of delight. He didn't show any surprise at hearing Jamie's name, either. Either he simply wasn't familiar with it-rather unlikely-or he had been expecting such an ambassage.

  That being so, I saw no point in beating round the bush.

  "I understand that you're entertaining Father Donahue," I said pleasantly. "I've come to see him; I'm his physician."

  Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that; his jaw dropped slightly, exposing a severe case of malocclusion, well-advanced gingivitis, and a missing bicuspid. Before he could close it, a tall gentleman in a bottle-green coat stepped out of the tent behind him.

  "Mrs. Fraser?" he said, one eyebrow raised. He bowed punctiliously. "You say you wish to speak with the clerical gentleman under arrest?"

  "Under arrest?" I affected great surprise at that. "A priest? Why, whatever can he have done?"

  The Sheriff and the magistrate exchanged glances. Then the magistrate coughed.

  "Perhaps you are unaware, madam, that it is illegal for anyone other than the

  The Fiery Cross 129

  clergy of the established Church-the Church of England, that is-to undertake his office within the colony of North Carolina?"

  I was not unaware of that, though I also knew that the law was seldom put into effect, there being relatively few of any kind of clergy in the colony to start with, and no one bothering to take any official notice of the itinerant preachers-many of them free lances in the most basic sense of the word-who did appear from time to time. best of my ability. "No, "Gracious!" I said, affecting shocked surprise to the

  I had no idea. Goodness me! How very strange!" Mr. Lillywhite blinked slightly, which I took as an indication that that would just about do, in terms of my creating an impression of well-bred shock. I cleared my throat, and brought out the silver flask and case of needles.

  "Well. I do hope any difficulties will be soon resolved. However, I should very much like to see Father Donahue for a moment. As I said, I am his physician. He has an ... indisposition"-l slid back the cover of the case, and delicately displayed the needles, letting them imagine something suitably virulent-"that requires regular treatment. Might I see him for a moment, to administer his medicine? I ... ah ... should not like to see any mischief result from a lack of care on my part, you know." I smiled, as charmingly as possible.

  The Sheriff pulled his neck down into the collar of his coat and looked malevolently amphibious, but Mr. Lillywhite seemed better affected by the smile. He hesitated, looking me over.

  "Well, I am not sure that. . . " he began, when the sound of footsteps came squelching up the path behind me. I turned, half-expecting to see Jamie, but instead beheld my recent patient, Mr. Goodwin, one cheek still puffcd from my attentions, but sling intact.

  He was quite as surprised to see me, but greeted me with great cordiality, and a cloud of alcoholic fumes. Evidently Mr. Goodwin had been taking my advice regarding disinfection very seriously.

  "Mrs. Fraser! You have not come to minister to my friend Lillywhite, I trus0 I expect Mr. Anstruther would benefit from a good purge, though-clear the bilious humors, eh, David? Haha!" He clapped the Sheriff on the back in affectionate camaraderie; a gesture Anstruther suffered with no more than a small grimace, giving me some idea of Mr. Goodwin's importance in the social scheme of Orange County.

  "George, my dear," Mr. Lillywhite greeted him warmly. "You are acquainted with this charming lady, then?"

  "Oh, indeed, indeed I am, sir!" Mr. Goodwin turned a beaming countenance upon me. "Why, Mrs. Fraser did me great service this morning, great service indeed! See here!" He brandished his bound and splinted arm, which, I was pleased to see, was evidently giving him no pain whatever at the moment, though that probably had more to do with his self-administered anesthesia than with my workmanship.

  "She quite' cured my arm, with no more than a touch here, a touch thereand drew a broken tooth so clean that I scarce felt a thing! 'Ook!" He stuck a finger into the side of his mouth and pulled back his check, exposing a tuft of

  130 Diana Gabaldon

  bloodstained wadding protruding from the tooth socket and a neat line of black stitching on the gum.

  "Really, I am most impressed, Mrs. Fraser." Lillywhite sniffed at the waft of cloves and whisky from Mr. Goodwin's mouth, looking interested, and I saw the bulge of his cheek as his own tongue tenderly probed a back tooth.

  "But what brings you up here, Mrs. Fraser?" Mr. Goodwin turned the beam "So late in the day-pcrhaps you will do me the honor of of his joviality on me.

  taking a bit of supper at my fire?"

  "Oh, thank you, but I can't, really," I said, smiling as charmingly as possible. "I've just come to see another patient-that is-"

  "She wants to see the priest," Anstruther interrupted. Goodwin blinked at that, taken only slightly aback. "Priest. There is a priest here?"

  rom the unclean "A Papist." Mr. Lillywhite amplified, lips curling back a bit f

  word. "It came to my attention that there was a Catholic priest concealed in the assembly, who proposed to celebrate a Mass during the festivities this evening. I sent Mr. Anstruther to arrest him, of course."

  "Father Donahue is a friend of mine," I put in, as forcefully as possible. "And he was not concealed; he was invited quite openly, as the guest of Mrs. Cameron. He is also a patient, and requires treatment. I've come to see that he gets it."

  "A friend of yours? Are you Catholic, Mrs. Fraser?" Mr. Goodwin looked startled; it obviously hadn't occurred to him that he was being treated by a Popish dentist, and his hand went to his swollen cheek in bemusement.

  "I am," I said, hoping that Merely being a Catholic wasn3t also against Mr. Lillywhite's conception of the law.

  Evidently not. Mr. Goodwin gave Mr. Lillywhite a nudge.

  "Oh, come, Randall. Let Mrs. Fraser see the fellow, what harm can it do? And if he's truly Jocasta Cameron's guest. . . "

  Mr. Lillywhite pursed his lips in thought for a moment, then stood aside, holding back the flap of canvas for me.

  "I suppose there can be no harm in your seeing your ... friend," he said slowly. "Come in, then, madam."

  Sundown was at hand, and the tent was dark inside, though one canvas wall still glowed brightly with the sinking sun behind it. I shut my eyes for a moment, to accustom them to the change of light, then blinked and looked about to get my bearings.

  The tent seemed cluttered but relatively luxurious, being equipped with a camp bed and other furniture, the air within scented not only by damp canvas and wool but with the perfiime of Ceylon tea, expensive wine, and almond biscuits.

  Father Donahue was silhouetted in front of the glowing canvas, sitting on a stool behind a small folding table, on which were arrayed a few sheets of paper, an inkstand, and a quill.
They might as well have been thumbscrews, pincers, and a red-hot poker, judging from his militantly upright attitude, evocative of expectant martyrdom.

  The clinking of flint and tinderbox came from behind me, and then the faint

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  glow of a light. This swelled, and a black boyMr. Lillywhite's servant, I supposed-came forward and silently set a small oil lamp on the table.

  Now that I got a clear look at the priest, the impression of martyrdom grew more pronounced. He looked like Saint Stephen after the first volley of stones, with a bruise on his chin and a first-rate black eye, empurpled from browridge to cheekbone and swollen quite shut.

  he started up with an exThe nonblackened eye widened at sight of me, and

  clamation of surprise.

  "Father Kenneth." I gripped him by the hand and squeezed, smiling broadly for the benefit of whatever audience might be peeking through the flap. "I've brought your medicine. How are you feeling?" I raised my eyebrows and waggled them, indicating that he should play along with the deception. He stared at me in fascination for a moment, but then appeared to catch on. He coughed, then, encouraged by my nod

  ,it's ... very kind of ye t. coughed again, with more enthusiasm.

  o ... think of me, Mrs. Fraser," he wheezed, between hacks.

  I pulled off the top of the flask, and poured out a generous measure of whisky.

  "Are you quite all right, Father?" I asked, low-voiced, as I leaned across to hand it to him. "Your face . . .'

  "Oh, it's nothing, Mrs. Fraser dear, not at all," he assured me, his faint Irish accent coming out under the stress of the occasion. " 'Twas only that I made the mistake of resistin' when the Sheriff arrested me. Not but what in the shock of it all, I didn't do a small bit of damage to the poor man's ballocks, and him only doing of his duty, may God forgive me." Father Kenneth rolled his undamaged eye upward in a pious exprcssion--quite spoiled by the unregenerate grin underneath.

  Father Kenneth was no more than middle height7 and looked older than his years by virtue of the hard wear imposed by long seasons spent in the saddle. Still, he was no more than thirty-five, and lean and tough as whipcord under his worn black coat and frayed linen- I began to understand the Sheriff's belligerence.

  "Besides," he added, touching his black eye gingerly, "Mr. Lillywhite did tender me a most gracious apology for the hurt." He nodded toward the table, and I saw that an opened bottle of wine and a pewter cup stood among the writing materiaIS-thC cup still full, and the level of wine in the bottle not down by much.

  The priest picked up the whisky I had poured and drained it, closing his eyes in dreamy benediction.

  ,And a finer medicine I hope never to benefit from," he said, opening them. "I do thank ye, Mistress Fraser. I'm that restored, I might walk on water meself." He remembered to cough, this one a delicate hack, fist held over his mouth.

  "What's wrong with the wine?' I asked, with a glance toward the door. "Oh, not a thing," he said, taking his hand away. "Only that I did not think it quite right to accept the magistrate's refreshments, under the circumstances. Call it conscience." He smiled at me again, but this time with a note of wryness in the grin.

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  "Why have they arrested you?" I asked, my voice low. I looked again at the tent's door, but it was empty, and I caught the murmur of voices outside. Evidently, Jamie had been right; they weren't suspicious of me.

  "For sayin' of the Holy Mass," he replied, lowering his voice to match mine. "Or so they said. It's a wicked he, though. I've not said Mass since last Sunday, and that was in Virginia." He was looking wistfully at the flask. I picked it up and poured another generous tot.

  I frowned a bit, thinking, while he drank it, more slowly this time. Whatever were Mr. Lillywhite and company up to? They couldn't, surely, be meaning to bring the priest to trial on the charge of saying Mass. It would be no great matter to find false witnesses to say he had, of course-but what would be the point of it?

  While Catholicism was certainly not popular in North Carolina, I could see no great purpose in the arrest of a priest who would be leaving in the morning in any case. Father Kenneth came from Baltimore and meant to return there; he had come to the Gathering only as a favor to Jocasta Cameron.

  "Oh!" I said, and Father Kenneth looked at me inquiringly over the rim of his cup.

  "Just a thought," I said, gesturing to him to continue. "Do you happen to know whether Mr. Lillywhite is personally acquainted with Mrs. Cameron?" Jocasta Cameron was a prominent and wealthy woman-and one of strong character, therefore notiArithout enemies. I couldn't see why Mr. Lillywhite would go out of his way to disoblige her in such a peculiar fashion, even so, but ...

  "I am acquainted with Mrs. Cameron," said Mr. Lillywhite, speaking behind me. "Though alas, I can claim no intimate friendship with the lady." I whirled to find him standing just within the tent's entrance, followed by Sheriff Anstruther and Mr. Goodwin, with Jamie bringing up the rear. The latter flicked an eyebrow at me, but otherwise maintained an expression of solemn interest.

  Mr. Lillywhite bowed to me in acknowledgment.

  "I have just been explaining to your husband, madame, that it is my regard for Mrs. Cameron's interests that led me to attempt to regularize Mr. Donahue's position, so as to allow his continued presence in the colony." Mr. Lillywhite nodded coldly at the priest. "However, I am afraid my suggestion was summarily rejected."

  Father Kenneth put down his cup and straightened up, his working eye bright in the lamplight.

  "They wish me to sign an oath, sir," he said to Jamie, with a gesture at the paper and quill on the table before him. "To the effect that I do not subscribe to a belief in transubstantiation."

  "Do they, indeed." Jamie's voice betrayed no more than polite interest, but I understood at once what the priest had meant by his remark regarding conscience.

  "Well, he can't do that, can he?" I said, looking round the circle of men. "Catholics-I mean-we'--I spoke with some emphasis, looking at Mr. Goodwin-"do believe in transubstantiation. Don't we?" I asked, turning to the priest, who smiled slightly in response, and nodded.

  Mr. Goodwin looked unhappy, but resigned, his alcoholic joviality substantially reduced by the social awkwardness.

  The Fiery Cross 133

  ,I,m sorry, Mrs. Fraser, but that is the law. The only circumstance under which a clergyman who does not belong to the established Church may remain in the colonylegallyis upon the signing of such an oath. many do sign it. You know the Reverend Urmstone, the Methodist circuit rider? He has signed the oath, as has Mr. Calvert, the New Light minister who lives near Wadesboro."

  The Sheriff looked smug. Repressing an urge to stamp on his foot, I turned to Mr. Lillywhite.

  "Well, but Father Donahue can't sign it. So what do you propose to do with him? Throw the poor man in gaol? You can't do that-he's ill!" On cue, Father Kenneth coughed obligingly.

  Mr. Lillywhite eyed me dubiously, but chose instead to address Jamie.

  ,I could by rights imprison the man, but out of regard for you, Mr. Fraser, and for your aunt, I shall not do so. He must, however, leave the colony tomorrow. I shall have him escorted into Virginia, where he will be released from custody. You may rest assured that all care will be taken to assure his welfare on the journey." He turned a cold gray eye on the Sheriff, who straightened up and tried to look reliable, with indifferent results.

  "I see." Jamie spoke lightly, looking from one man to another, his eyes coming to rest on the Sheriff ,I trust that is true, sir-for if I should hear of any harm coming to the good Father, I should be ... most distressed."

  The Sheriff met his gaze, stone-faced, and held it until Mr. Lillywhite cleared his throat, frowning at the Sheriff.

  "You have my word upon it, Mr. Fraser." Jamie turned to him, bowing slightly.

  "I could ask no more, sir. And yet if I may presume-might the Father not spend tonight in comfort among his friends, that they might take their leave of him? And that
my wife might attend his injuries? I would stand surety for his safe delivery into your hand come morning."

  Mr. Lillywhite pursed his lips and affected to consider this suggestion, but the magistrate was a poor actor. I realized with some interest that he had foreseen this request, and had his mind made up already to deny it-

  "No, sir," he said, trying for a tone of reluctance. "I regret that I cannot grant your request. Though if the priest wishes to write letters to various of his acquaintance"-he gestured at the sheaf of papers-"I will undertake to see them promptly delivered."

  Jamie cleared his own throat and drew himself up a bit.

  -Well, then," he said. "I wonder whether I might make so bold as to ask. . . " He paused, seeming slightly embarrassed.

  "Yes, sir?" Lillywhite looked at him curiously.

  "I wonder whether the good Father might be allowed to hear my confession." Jamie's eyes were fixed on the tent pole, sedulously avoiding mine. "Your confession?"

  Lillywhite looked astonished at this, though the Sheriff made a noise that might charitably be called a snigger.

  "Got something pressing on your conscience?" Anstruther asked rudely, "Or pYaps you have some premonition of impending death, eh?" He gave an evil smile at this, and Mr. Goodwin, looking shocked, rumbled a protest at him. Jamie ignored both of them, focusing his regard on Mr. Lillywhite.

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  "Yes, sir. It has been some time since I last had the opportunity of being shriven, ye see, and it may well be some time before such a chance occurs again. As it is-" At this point, he caught my eye, and made a slight but emphatic motion with his head toward the tent flap. "If ye A411 excuse us for a moment, gentlemen?"

  Not waiting for a response, he seized me by the elbow and propelled me swiftly outside.

  "Brianna and Marsali are up the path wi' the weans," he hissed in my ear, the moment we were clear of the tent. "Make sure Lillywhite and yon bastard of a sheriff are well away, then fetch them in."

  Leaving me standing on the path, astonished, he ducked back into the tent. "Your pardon, gentlemen," I heard him say. "I thought perhaps ... there are some things a man shouldna quite like to be saying before his wife ... you understand?

  There were male murmurs of understanding, and I caught the word "confession" repeated in dubious tones by Mr. Lillywhite. Jamie lowered his voice to a confidential rumble in response, interrupted by a rather loud, "You what?" from the Sheriff, and a peremptory shushing by Mr. Goodwin.

  There was a bit of confiised conversation, then a shuffle of movement, and I barely made it off the path and into the shelter of the pines before the tent flap lifted and the three Protestants emerged ftom the tent. The day had A but faded now, leaving burning embers of sunlit cloud in the sky, but close as they were, there was enough light for me to see the air of vague embarrassment that beset them.

  They moved a few steps down the path, stopping no more than a few feet from my own hiding place. They stood in a cluster to confer, looking back at the tent, from which I could now hear Father Kenneth's voice, raised in a formal Latin blessing. The lamp in the tent went out, and the forms of Jamie and the priest, dim shadows on the canvas, disappeared into a confessional darkness. Anstruther's bulk sidled closer to Mr. Goodwin.

  "What in fiick's name is transubstantiation?" he muttered.

  I saw Mr. Goodi4in's shoulders straighten as he drew himself up, then hunch toward his ears in a shrug.

  "In all honesty, sir, I am not positive of the meaning of the term," he said, rather primly, "though I perceive it to be some form of pernicious Papist doctrine. Perhaps Mr. Lillywhite could supply you with a more complete definition-Randall?"

  "Indeed," the magistrate said. "It is the notion that by the priest's speaking particular words in the course of offering his Mass, bread and wine are transformed into the very substance of Our Savior's body and blood."

  "What?" Anstruther sounded confused. "How can anyone do that?" "Change bread and wine into flesh and blood?" Mr. Goodwin sounded quite taken aback. "But that is witchcraft, surely!"

  "Well, it would be, if it happened," Mr. Lillywhite said, sounding a bit more human. "The Church very rightly holds that it does not."

  "Are we sure of that?" Anstruther sounded suspicious. "Have you seen them do it?"

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  "Have I attended a Catholic Mass? Assuredly not!" Lillywhite's tall form drew up, austere in the gathering dusk. "What do you take me for, sir!"

  "Now, Randall, I am sure the Sheriff means no offense." Goodwin put a plaill 'catory hand on his friend's arm. "His office deals with more earthly matters, after all."

  "No, no, no offense meant, sir, none at all," Anstruther said hurriedly. "I w," meaning more, like, has anybody seen this kind of goings-on, so as to be a decent witness, for the prosecution of it, I mean."

  Mr, Lillywhite appeared still to be somewhat offended; his voice was cold in reply.

  "It is scarcely necessary to have witnesses to the heresy, Sheriff, as the priests themselves willingly admit to it,"

  "No, no. Of course not." The Sheriff's squat form seemed to flatten obsequiously. "But if I'm right, sit, Papists do ... er ... partake of this-this tranWbwhatnot, aye?"