., Here, the situation was far different than it was among the orderly militia lines, but even less disposed to immediate hostilities. As he pressed on ffirther, though, asking his way at each campfire he passed, he began to feel something ijifferent in the air-a sense of increasing urgency, almost of desperation. The horseplay he'd seen in the outer camps had vanished; men clustered talking in 'elose groups, their heads together, or sat by themselves, grimly loading guns ,and sharpening knives.
As he got closer, the name of Hermon Husband was recognized by every one, the pointing fingers surer of direction. The name seemed almost a magnet, pulling him farther and farther into the center of a thickening mass of men and boys, all excited-all armed. The noise grew greater all the time, voices beating on his ears like hammers on a forge
He found Husband at last, standing on a rock like a large gray wolf at bay, surrounded by a knot of some thirty or forty men, all clamoring in angry agitation. Elbows jabbed and feet trampled, without regard to impact on their fellows. Clearly they were demanding an answer, but unable to pause long .'enough to hear one were it given.
Husband, stripped to his shirtsleeves and red in the face, was shouting at one or two of those closest to him, but Roger could hear nothing of what was said, above the general hub-bub. He pushed through the outer ring of spectators, but was stopped nearer the center by the press of men. At least here, he could pick up a few words.
"We must! You know it, Hermon, there's no choice!" shouted a lanky man in a battered hat.
"There's always a choice!" Husband bellowed back. "Now is the time to .,choose, and God send we do it,,Arisely!"
"Aye, with cannon pointed at us?"
"No, no, forward, we must go forward, or all is lost!" "Lost? We have lost everything so far! We must-" "The Governor's taken choice from us, we must-" "We must-"
"We must-!"
All single words were lost in a general roar of anger and frustration. Seeing that there was nothing to be gained by waiting for an audience, Roger shoved his way ruthlessly between two farmers and seized Husband by the sleeve of his shirt.
"Mr. Husband-I must speak with you!" he shouted in the Quaker's ear. Husband gave him a Iglazed sort of look, and made to shake him off, but then stopped, blinking as he recognized him. The square face was flushed with
578 Diana Gabaldon
color above the sprouting beard, and Husband's coarse gray hair, unbound, bristled out from his head like the quills of a porcupine. He shook his head and shut his eyes, then opened them again, staring at Roger like a man seeking to dispel some impossible vision, and failing.
He grabbed Roger's arm, and with a fierce gesture at the crowd, leaped down from his rock and made off toward the shelter of a ramshackle cabin that leaned drunkenly in the shade of a maple grove. Roger followed, glaring round at those nearest to discourage pursuit.
A few followed, nonetheless, waving arms and expostulating hotly, but Roger slammed the door in their faces, and dropped the bolt, placing his back against the door for good measure. It was cooler inside, though the air was stale and smelt of wood-ash and burnt food.
Husband stood panting the middle of the floor, then picked up a dipper and drank deeply from a bucket that stood upon the hearth-the only object left in the cabin, Roger saw, Husband's coat and hat hung neatly on a hook by the door, but bits of rubbish were scattered across the packed-earth floor. Whoever owned the cabin had evidently decamped in haste, carrying their portable belongings.
Calmed by the moment's respite, Husband straightened his rumpled shirt and made shift to tidy his hair.
"What does thee here, friend MacKenzie?" he asked, with characteristic mildness. "Thee does not come to join the cause of Regulation, surely?" "Indeed I do not," Roger assured him. He cast a wary eye at the window,
lest the crowd try to gain access that way, but while the rumble of voices Outside continued their argument, there was no immediate sound of assault upon the building. "I have come to ask if you will go across the creek with me-under a flag of truce, your safety is assured-to speak with Jamie Fraser."
Husband glanced at the window, too.
"I fear the time for speaking has long passed," he said, with a wry twist of the lips. Roger was inclined to think so, too, but pressed on, determined to fulfill his commission.
"Not so far as the Governor is concerned. He has no wish to slaughter his own citizenry; if the mob could be convinced to disperse peaceably-"
"Does it seem to thee a likely prospect?" Husband waved at the window, giving him a cynical glance.
"No," Roger was forced to admit. "Still, if you would come-if they could see that there was still some possibility of-,,
"If there were possibility of reconciliation and redress, it should have been offered long since," Husband said sharply. "Is this a token of the Governor's sincerity, to come with troops and cannon, to send a letter that-"
"Not redress," Roger said bluntly. "I meant the possibility of saving all your lives."
Husband stood quite still. The ruddy color faded from his cheeks, though he looked still composed.
"Has it come to that?" he asked quietly, his eyes on Roger's face. Roger took a deep breath and nodded.
"There is not much time. Mr. Fraser bid me tell you-if you could not come to speak with him yourself-there are two companies of artillery arrayed against
The Fiery Cross 579
you, and eight of militia, ail well-armed. All ties in readiness-and the Governor
4 will not wait past dawn of tomorrow, at the latest."
He was aware that it was treason to give such information to the enemybut it was what Jamie Fraser would have said, could he have come himself. "There are near two thousand men of the Regulation here," Husband said,
as though to himself "Two thousand! Would thee not think the sight of it would sway him? That so many would leave home and hearth and come in protest-"
"It is the Governor's opinion that they come in rebellion, therefore in a state of war," Roger interrupted. He glanced at the window, where the ofled parchment covering hung in tatters. "And having seen them, I must say that I think 'he has reasonable grounds for that opinion."
"it is no rebellion," Husband said stubbornly. He drew himself up, and pulled a worn black silk ribbon from his pocket, with which to tie back his hair. "But our legitimate complaints have been ignored, disregarded! We have no choice but to come as a physical body, to lay our grievances before Mr. Tryon and thus impress him with the rightness of our objection."
"I thought I heard you speak of choice a few moments past," Roger said dryly. "And if now is the time to choose, as you say, it would seem to me that most of the Regulators have chosen violence-judging from such remarks as I heard on my way here."
"Perhaps," Husband said reluctantly. "Yet we-they-are not an avenging army, not a mob. . 21 And yet his unwilling glance toward the window suggested his awareness that a mob was indeed what was forming on the banks of the Alamance.
"Do they have a chosen leader, anyone who can speak officially for them?" Roger interrupted again, impatient to deliver his message and be gone. "Yourself, or perhaps Mr. Hunter?"
, Husband paused for a long moment, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth as though to expunge some lingering rancid taste. He shook his head. "They have no real leader," he said softly. "Jim Hunter is bold enough, but
he has no gift of commanding men. I asked him-he said that each man must act for himself "
"You have the gift. You can lead them."
Husband looked scandalized, as though Roger had accused him of a talent for card-sharping.
"Not L"
"You have led them here-"
"They have come here! I asked none to-" "You are here. They followed you."
Husband flinched slightly at this, his lips compressed. Seeing that his words had some effect, Roger pressed his case.
"You spoke for them before, and they listened. They came with you, after you. They'll still listen, surely
!"
He could' hear the noise outside the cabin growing; the crowd was impatient. If it wasn't yet a mob, it was damn close. And what would they do if they knew who he was, and what he had come to do? His palms were sweating; he pressed them down across the fabric of his coat, feeling the small lump of his
580 Diana Gabaldon
militia badge in the pocket, and wished he had paqsed to bury it somewhere when he crossed the creek.
Husband looked at him a moment, then reached out and seized him by both hands.
"Pray with me, friend," he said quietly.
441-95
"Thee need say nothing," Husband said.
"I know thee is Papist, but it is not our way to pray aloud. If thee would but remain still with me, and ask in your heart that wisdom be granted-not only to me, but to all here . .
Roger bit his tongue to keep from correcting Husband; his own religious affiliation was scarcely important at the moment, though evidently Husband's was. Instead he nodded, suppressing his impatience, and squeezed the older man's hands, offering what support he might.
Husband stood quite still, his head slightly lowered. A fist hammered on the flimsy door of the cabin, voices calling out.
"Hermon! You all right in there?"
"Come on, Hermon! There's no time for this! Caldwell's come back from the Governor-"
"An hour, Hermon! He's given us an hour, no more!"
A trickle of sweat ran down Roger's back between his shoulder blades, but he ignored the tickle, unable to reach it.
He glanced from Husband's weathered fingers to his face, and found the other man's eyes seemingly fixed on his own-and yet distant, as though he listened to some far-off voice, disregarding the urgent shouts that came through the walls. Even Husband's eyes were Quaker gray, Roger thought-like pools of rainwater, shivering into stillness after a storm.
Surely they would break down the door. But no; the blows diminished to an impatient knocking, and then to random thumps. He could feel the beating of his own heart, slowing gradually to a quiet, even throb in his chest, anxiety fading in his blood.
He closed his own eyes, trying to fix his thoughts, to do as Husband asked. He groped in his mind for some suitable prayer, but nothing save confused fragments of the Book of Common Worship came to hand.
Help us, 0 Lord ... Hear us ...
Help us, 0 Lord, his father's voice whispered. His other father, the Reverend, speaking somewhere in the back of his mind. Help us, 0 Lord, to remember bow often men do wrong through want of thought, rather than from lack of love; and how cunning are the snares that trip ourftet.
Each word flickered briefly in his mind like a burning leaf, rising from a bonfire's wind, and then disappeared away into ash before he could grasp it. He gave it up then and simply stood, clasping Husband's hands in his own, listening to the man's breathing, a low rasping note.
Please, he thought silently, though with no idea what he was asking for. That word too evaporated, leaving nothing in its place.
Nothing happened. The voices still called outside, but they seemed of no more importance now than the calling of birds. The air in the room was still, but cool and lively, as though a draft played somewhere in the corners, not
The Fiery Cross 581
elt his own touching them where they stood in the center of the floor. Roger f
breath ease, his heart slow its beat still more.
He didn't remember opening his eyes, and yet they were open. Husband's Aoft gray eyes had flecks of blue in them, and tiny splinters of black. His lashes ,,were thick, and there was a small swelling at the base of one, a healing sty. The k1liny dome was smooth and red, fading from a ruby dot at the center throu h
41uch successions of crimson, pink and rose red 9 sky on the day of Creation. as might have graced the dawn
The face before him was sculpted with lines that drew rough arcs from nose to mouth, that curved above the heavy, grizzled brows whose every hair was bong and arched with the grace of a bird's wing. The lips were broad and ,rnooth, a dusky rose; the white edge of a tooth glistened, strangely hard by f
contrast with the pliable flesh that sheltered it.
Roger stood without moving, wondering at the beauty of what he saw. The aotion of Husband as a stocky man of middle age and indeterminate feature ad no meaning; what he saw now was a heartbreaking singularity, a thing unique and wonderful; irreplaceable. ing with which he had studied his infant It struck him that this was same feel
son, marveling at the perfection of each small toe, the curve of cheek and ear tliat squeezed his heart, the radiance of the newborn skin that let the innocence within shine through. And here was the same creation, no longer new, perhaps less innocent, but no less marvelous. 11 gripping Husband's He looked down and saw his own hands then, sti
sinaller ones. A sense of awe came on him, with the realization of the beauty of and knuckle, the ravishing loveliness bis own fingers, the curving bones of wrist hi thumb.
of a thin red scar that ran across the joint of s
p sigh, and he pulled his hands away. Husband's breath left him in a dee
eft, but then felt the peace of the room settle upon koger felt momentarily ber
ty succeeded by a sense of deep calm. him once more, the astonishment of beau
'I had not hoped to re"I thank thee, Friend Roger," Husband said softly.
geive such grace-but it is welcome."
Roger nodded, wordless. He watched as Husband took down his coat and of calm determination. Without hesitaput it on, his face settled now in lines
tion the Quaker lifted the bolt from the door and pushed it open-
ide fell back, the surprise on their faces giving way at The crowd of men outs
once to eagerness and irritation. Husband ignored the storm of questions and directly to a horse that stood tethered to a sapling beexhortations, and walked
g up into the saddle, and only then hind the cabin. He untied it and swun
looked down into the faces of his fellow Regulators.
"Go home!" he said, in a loud voice. "We must leave this place; each man must return to his own home!"
This announcement was met with a moment of stunned silence, and then by cries of puzzlement and outrage.
"What home?" called a young man with a scraggly ginger beard. "Maybe you got a home to go to-I ain't!"
Husband sat solid in his saddle, unmoved by the outcry.
-Go home!" he shouted again. "I exhort you-nothing but Violeticc remains to be done here!"
582 Diana Gabaldon
"Aye, and we'll bloody do it! " bellowed one ihickset man, thrusting his musket overhead, to a ragged chorus of cheers.
Roger had followed Husband, and was largely ignored by the Regulators. He stood at a little distance, watching as the Quaker began slowly to ride away, bending down from his saddle as he did so, to shout and gesture to the men who ran and shoved beside him. One man grabbed Husband by the sleeve, and the Quaker drew up his rein, leaning down to listen to what was obviously an impassioned speech.
At the end of it, though, he straightened up, shaking his head, and clapped his hat on.
"I cannot stay and let blood be shed by my staying. If thee remain here, friends, there will be murder done. Leave! Thee can still go-I pray thee do so!"
He was no longer shouting, but the noise around him had ceased long enough for his words to carry. He raised a face creased with worry, and saw Roger standing in the shadow of a dogwood. The stillness of peace had left him, but Roger saw that the look of determination was still there in his eyes.
"I am going!" he called. "I beg thee all-go home!" He reined his horse round with sudden decision, and kicked it into a trot. A few men ran after him, but soon stopped. They turned back, looking puzzled and resenfful, muttering in small groups and shaking their heads in confusion.
The noise was rising again, as everyone talked at once, arguing, insisting, denying. Roger turned away, walking quietly toward the cover of the ma
ple grove. It seemed Kaiser to be gone as soon as possible, now that Husband had departed.
A hand seized him by the shoulder, and spun him round.
"Who the hell are you? What did you say to Hermon to make him go?" A ronted him, fists clenched. The man grimy fellow in a ragged leather vest conf
looked angry, ready to take out his frustration on the nearest available object. "I told him that the Governor doesn't want anyone to be harmed, if it can be avoided," Roger said, in what he hoped was a calming tone.
"Do you come from the Governor?" a black-bearded man asked skeptically, eyeing Roger's grubby homespun. "D'ye come to offer different terms than Caldwell has?"
"No." Roger had been still under the effects of the meeting with Husband, feeling sheltered from the currents of anger and incipient hysteria that swirled about the cabin, but the peace of it was fading fast. Others were coming to join his interrogators, attracted by the sound of confrontation.
"No," he said again, louder. "I came to warn Husband-to warn all of you. The Governor wants-"
He was interrupted by a chorus of rude shouts, indicating that what Tryon wanted was a matter of no concern to those present. He glanced around the circle of faces, but saw none that offered any expression of forbearance, let alone friendliness. He shrugged then, and stepped back. "Mr. Husband "You'll suit yourselves, then," he said, as coolly as possible.
gave you his best advice-I second it." He turned to leave, but was gripped by
The Fiery Cross 583
a pair of hands that descended on his shoulders, pulling him forcibly around to face the ring of questioners once more.
I ,,"Not so fast, chuck," said the man in the leather vest. He was still flushed 'with angry excitement, but his fists were no longer clenched. "You've spoke with Tryon, have you?"
"No," Roger admitted. "I was sent-" he hesitated; ought he to use Jamie Yraser's name? No, better not; it was as likely to cause trouble as to save it. "I came to ask Hermon Husband to come across the creek and discover for himoe ers stand. He chose instead to accept my account of the situation. If how matt
Tou saw what his response was."
"So you say"' A burly man with ginger sidewhiskers raised his chin pugna, ciously. "And why should anyone accept your account of the situation?" he mimicked Roger's clipped Scots in a burlesque that brought laughter from his '00
mrades. from the cabin had not altogether left him; Roger
1 iThe calm he had carried
gathered its remnants about him and spoke quietly.
, "I cannot compel you to listen, sir. But for those who have ears-hear this."
44e looked from one face to another, and reluctantly, one by one, they left off making noise, until he stood as the center of a ring of unwilling attention.
"The Governor's troops stand ready and well-armed." His voice sounded Iodd to his own ears, calm but somehow muffled, as though someone else were ,,speaking, some distance away. "I have not seen the Governor myself, but I have heard his stated purpose: he does not wish to see blood shed, but he is determined to take such actions as he perceives necessary to disperse this assembly. Yet if you will return peaceably to your homes, he is disposed to leniency."
A moment of silence greeted this, to be broken by a hawking noise. A glob of mucus, streaked brown with tobacco juice, landed with a splat in the mud near Roger's boot.
t " observed the spitter concisely, "for the Governor's leniency." "Tha ,
"And that for you, fuckwit! " said one of his companions, swinging an open palm toward Roger's face.
ed the man, who stagHe ducked the blow, and lowering his shoulder, charg
gered off-balance and gave way. There were more beyond him, though; Roger stopped, fists balled, ready to defend himself if need be.
)ys " called the man in the leather vest. "Not yet, any"Don't hurt him, bc
ways." He sidled round Roger, keeping well out of range of his fists, and eyed him warily.
The Fiery Cross Page 80
