Prologue: A Looming Change Of Scenery

New Jersey May 1776…..

William Tavington took a couple of coins from the dressing table and gave them to the pretty little bawd in his tent. She clasped the silver in her hand and smiled up at the tall officer.

"Thank you, sir." She moved toward the doorway of the tent just as Tavington stepped back to the small dresser. He had already dipped the linen into the cold, clean water and was rubbing the cloth over his bare torso when he heard the whore, whom he thought had left already, speak up.

"Again tonight, Colonel?" The girl was hoping to set up another meeting with him. The officer paid well and was a good lover.

William, wet rag in hand and still washing up, answered hesitantly. "Maybe." The man wasn't sure if he'd be in camp tonight or not; he never knew.

The doxy bobbed her head of raven curls slightly then dipped into a curtsey. Then equally as fast, she disappeared from the tent.

The colonel finished washing in a few moments, dipped his hands into the water to wet them then ran his fingers through his long hair. He combed through his damp tresses then walked to his desk.

The officer sat down and pulled his dark mane over one shoulder and began to braid it. As he did, his eyes fell on the dispatch he'd received yesterday afternoon, still open on his desk. He re-read the thing as his fingers worked his hair into a tight queue.

You are to split your regiment into two units, and as per your advice, Major Tarleton will command the second legion.

He has been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel for this.

You are to take your legion into the Carolinas and make your new home base at

Fort Carolina, near the border between the two colonies. Tarleton's legion will

stay in New Jersey and the vicinity.

Resume all usual duties once there. Form an intelligence network when you

arrive and please recruit some locals!

William chuckled to himself for his suspicion had been correct. The British were having success in securing and subduing the northern colonies. General Howe and the army had the situation firm in hand there, winning most of the battles and keeping the rebels under some kind of control.

And, they had a firm foothold in the Northwest Territory, which while still part of Canada, had formerly been French. The English controlled this since the war ended back in the 1760's, and enforced the treaty making it the King's territory. The forts in the area were under the auspices of Governor Henry Hamilton, sitting secure in his fortress at Detroit. The savages were terrorizing the settlers already there, scaring others from moving there, and the French in the region were allied to the British lest they lose their scalps.

Tavington and his officers had suspected that the next move was probably into the southern colonies, securing the deep water sea ports and rich plantations. And now here they were, getting ready to move to that area.

William rose from his seat and walked the small chest of drawers and pulled out a clean white shirt. He pulled it over his head and was beginning to button it when there was a knock at the tent door.

"A dispatch for you, sir," the young private said.

Tavington took the message in his hand and quickly unfolded it. His eyes read the few lines quickly. "Damn," he swore under his breath as he walked to the doorway.

Sticking his head out of the tent, he saw Lieutenant Wentworth talking to the blacksmith as he stood near his horse, pointing to one of the beast's front feet. The young officer turned his head slightly and caught sight of his commander motioning for him to come to his tent.

As he trotted over, Tavington had grabbed one of the other men nearby. "Private Kinney, please ask Captain Bordon to report to me at once."

"Yes sir," the young man said, leaving just as Wentworth arrived.

"Good morning, commander."

"Good morning, Lieutenant. I need you to get the men into shape now. Seems that General O'Hara is arriving today for inspection," he announced, holding up the dispatch for the young officer to see.

"Right away, sir," he complied. As he turned to leave the tent, he nearly bowled over Private Kinney, who had returned.

"Uh….sir….Captain Bordon is indisposed right now and unable to report—"

"Indisposed?" the colonel asked indignantly. How dare one of his officers not answer a command. William took the private's comment to mean that the young soldier was hesitant to disturb an officer that was probably in the arms of a whore.

"By God, he is not going to tarry the morning away with a doxy," Tavington swore as he tore out of his tent in only his breeches and shirt hanging loose still. Lieutenant Wentworth and Private Kinney were on his heels as their commander blazed a path straight to Bordon's tent.

"I'll throw the strumpet out of there myself if I have to!" he seethed as he arrived at the front of the officer's tent. He tore back the flap expecting to see a trollop on top of his subaltern, but was surprised to see the man lying still on the ground of the tent.

All three men looked down at Captain Hugh Bordon, his tent a mess with things strewn about him. A bottle of whiskey and a glass lay toppled onto the ground beside him. The man had obviously had either a hard night or one Hell of a good time, Tavington thought.

"Private, what is my aide de camp doing down there?"

"Passed out cold, sir."

"And why is he out cold?" Tavington asked somewhat sarcastically, wanting to know if there had been some trouble.

"Too much whiskey, colonel."

"You're dismissed, private. Thank you."

William and his lieutenant stepped into the tent, careful not to step on any of the mess or the captain. Tavington heaved a hard sigh. "Good Lord, is my third officer a drunkard?"

"Uh….no sir," Wentworth answered. "I think he had a bad time of it yesterday."

"Why is that?" asked the colonel, always wanting to know if trouble was rearing its head in his unit.

"His wife and young son died recently."

"When?" Tavington asked in surprise. He hadn't been apprised that the captain was widowed or even married, for that matter.

"In this last year, before he left England to come here," replied the lieutenant. "I believe she was with child as well, when she became ill."

William noticed Bordon's diary laying on the ground, askew and obviously thrown or fallen from his desk. Tavington bent his tall body down and picked the book up. He flipped through it quickly, finding yesterday's date, hoping it would yield a clue as to what had caused one of his officers to drink himself into oblivion last evening. He read the short passage silently:

"My darling, I can scarce believe you and little Robbie have been gone a year now.

Oh why? I miss you both so much. The rigors of duty can't even subdue the pain in

my heart for you both. Why? I don't understand. Why? Why were you taken from

me? Why did you have to die? My God, I love you so much."

Colonel Tavington closed the diary and threw it onto the cot that Wentworth had just set upright, speaking as he did. "Well, there you have it," he disclosed to the lieutenant. "Hmm. It was the first anniversary of their death yesterday."

"No wonder he's passed out," Wentworth commented.

"Yes, well we've got to sober him up before General O'Hara arrives," Tavington advised.

The colonel looked out of the tent and spotted Private Kinney, who hadn't gone too far since being dismissed. "Private," he called. The soldier hopped back over to his commander.

"Sir?"

"Please brew some coffee. Make it strong."

"Yes colonel." The man then dashed away to begin his task. Tavington ducked back into the tent.

The commander knelt down and turned Bordon over onto his back, then cupped his hands under the unconscious officer's armpits.

"Help me, Wentworth," he directed. "Get his legs."

"Yes sir," the junior officer answered. "What are we going to do with him?"

The two officers soon had the captain lifted off the ground and began carting him from the tent. "Toss him into the creek," Tavington answered as they moved toward the stream. "The cold water should wake his arse up."

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Virginia May 1776….

Colonel Harry Burwell, a serious man that didn't smile or laugh much, sighed as he looked at the map spread out across the desk in his tent. His second in command, Lieutenant Colonel Artemus and his third officer Major Zeller stood a few steps away, watching their commander silently, his back to them.

Their leader soon turned back to them and continued on with the briefing. Looking at Artemus he announced, "While I'm away, you will be in charge. I will send word to the Generals regarding this. In turn, if you have questions or need assistance, do not hesitate to call on them."

"Yes, sir," Colonel Artemus assured.

Harry looked at the younger of the two officers before him. "Major, you will accompany me. It is my plan to have us back here before August. The primary stop will be the South Carolina Assembly in May, however the Generals would like us to visit a few other towns as well. Their request was to stop at anyplace we felt may be strategic."

The commander turned back to his adjutant. "Artemus, see if Colonel White will grant us a small detachment of his dragoons to escort us into the Carolinas. As many men as he can spare."

"Yes, sir." With that, Colonel Artemus bowed his head to his superior and ducked out of the tent. He left young Major Zeller behind, respectfully quiet as he received his orders.

"Zeller," Burwell said, "We'll plan on leaving in a day or two, as soon as a detachment is assembled."

"Certainly, sir," answered Zeller with a nod of his head. In an instant, he disappeared from the tent, leaving the colonel alone.

With that, Harry sat down at his desk and carefully pushed aside the map that lay before him. He placed a blank sheet of parchment in front of him and dipped his quill into the inkwell.

The man hesitated before writing, a smile finally breaking out across his face. Though there had been no warning, he was glad to have received the assignment to temporarily leave his command to go into South Carolina to make speeches, visit towns, and generally try to sway the locals into the worthiness of this war. Burwell was perfect for the job since he was a wealthy farmer from that colony with his family's roots deep into the local class of society. And though the colonel may not be able to spend an extended amount of time at his beloved plantation, he would be able to make at least a brief stop there. But he would be able to spend a week or two at his home in Charles Towne. Better yet: his family could join him along the way and spend some time with him.

Harry closed his eyes as he tried to remember the last time he saw his wife pregnant, and how she had looked. It had been a few years. She was nearly six and a half months along now, and he had felt badly that he'd had not been with her during this time, having left for command just days after she'd conceived. He smiled again as he opened his eyes, anticipating seeing his wife and family again, and the birth of another child. The colonel began to write.

Dearest Katy,

My God, how I miss you and our two children. I think of all of you every day.

I have good news. I have been temporarily reassigned from command here in

Virginia. I am coming home to South Carolina for a working furlough for the

next few weeks. My first stop is to be the Assembly meeting in Charles Towne

in May. Please leave the farm in the capable hands of Mr. Waldron and hasten

to our home in Charles Towne. Bring Steven and Betsy.

And, my dear, I believe Betsy is old enough now to start attending society events,

and Charles Towne will be a splendid place for her introduction to the

proper people…..