When Stars Fall

No one sees what is before his feet; we all gaze at the stars.

Cicero

Chapter 1

The library fire was warmly gleaming on the paneled walls. John Murray sat alone, the snifter of brandy in his trembling hand. In his mind he could still hear the rasping voice of his father, admonishing him. The quiet ticking of the clock belied the turbulence in his heart as he thought about his duty.

To whom did his first duty lie? To himself? To his father? To his king? His Cherokee wife? His son? For a man who had spent his entire life avoiding entanglements the web seemed to be tightening around him. Decisions were soon to be made, unavoidable and irrevocable decisions. He downed the remainder of the brandy in the glass, reached for the decanter beside him and refilled the snifter. A familiar, pleasant numbness settled over him like a warm woolen blanket. Soon nothing would matter to the English major, nothing at all.

Nothing except the dark eyes of Talota, far away over the sea in Virginia. He had denied her every day for nearly three years. Denied the hold that she had on his heart. Denied the child that they created together. The Cherokee marriage ceremony held no validity for him.

But in the slow dark hours after midnight, when the alcohol seeped from his brain through his pores, she rose and walked before him. Her laughter echoed in the empty chamber, her warm body lay beside him under the down. In those lonely hours he dreamed of living with her in the distant lodge nestled in the Kentucky wilderness. She beckoned him with her silent smile.

Every dawn he arose and dressed in his fine English clothes, ate his heavy English breakfast, performed as his upper-class English position demanded. All day he listened to his father's harsh voice enumerating the duties of an English lord. In the hours after the evening meal, as the servants rustled invisibly through the big house, the elder Murray waxed forgetful and lapsed into a childhood brogue. It was then that John Murray reached for the possibilities.

William Murray, the third Earl of Dunsmore, came to England as a child. His father enlarged the English portion of their holdings and decided that the English court and English nobles were better likely to advance him still farther. To that end Lord David Murray invested heavily in English land. He also married a widow whose estate increased his wealth mightily. Her connections to the English throne gave David Murray more power and wealth.

His first son William inherited the bulk of the estate to add to the already large holdings he received from his own wife, another branch attached to the tree of Hanover. Combined with the family holdings in Scotland it was a large fortune.

But as William's age advanced and his health failed he grew nostalgic for the rivers and woods of central Scotland. Sitting in the firelit library with his father John dreamed of other rivers and woods: those of Kentucky. The two men sat and dreamed but had no interaction, no closeness. The Murrays did not demonstrate affection. It was plebian. Unbridled emotions could destroy you.

John had been groomed to succeed William his whole life. His sister was already married to strengthen the ties to King George the Second. His younger brother was a timid and shrinking boy who would not advance the family's position. John stood of age to secure his own connections and further advance his own position. The kingdom was canvassed to provide a worthy wife.

A succession of women paraded before him, always with the intention of making a match that would benefit the families of both. Though not aware of the reason, John always refused the potential wives. His father argued, his mother whined, but he was resolute.

Then, every evening in the moments before the alcohol blotted out all thought, he would think that his marriage in the wilds of Kentucky had been for exactly the same reason as his family was now urging upon him. For advancement of political goals. The British command needed Cherokee allies as a buffer. Talota accepted him to advance her own family. But this night the alcohol waited a bit longer to take his mind into the blankness and he argued with himself.

"No, John. Talota took you to protect her people. It was a totally unselfish act. Not at all what you are expected to do." This thought brought the inebriated man upright in his chair. His heart spoke the words that had taken years to form and he whispered them into the firelit room. "Talota, I want to come home to you. Home to your lodge, home to our son. Expectations here are a heavy burden. What would it be like to be free of them? Free forever? Free as we were all those years ago?"

But would she still be there? Twice she allowed herself to be married as a guarantee for her people's security. Had she done so again? Even now as he sat before the English fire was she lying in someone else's arms, feeling someone else's lips traveling down her slender arms to her small round breasts? Did she call someone else's name as the passion thrust her along?

Unexpectedly tears began to form in John Murray's blue eyes. The snifter fell from his hand as he covered his face. "Talota, wait for me. Wait, my lovely Singing Wind. I will come to you. I will bring you the love that I have denied for so long." The alcohol coursed through his strong body and he fell back in the high-backed chair and slept.

Joseph found him there an hour later and called the valet to put John to bed. Together the two men supported John's stumbling steps as he climbed the stairs. They pulled his fine clothing from his tall body and allowed him to fall limply into the soft feather bed. The down comforter was pulled over him and the two servants nodded to one another as another night's duty was completed.