"If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace." -- Tom Paine, 1776
Rumbles of Restlessness
Gwynedd, Wales
November 1, 1756
Dead before morning, the poor things. Too young and so small and the baby came so early. Mary will bleed out before the dawn. Old Bess watched as the midwife placed clean linen's under Mary Dunne. Shaking her head, the midwife slipped from the room. Bess sadly stroked the baby's dark hair as she cradled him close against her massive bosom.
"Here's yer son Mary." Bess moved over to the bed and frowned as the girl drew back from the bundle.
"I hate him." Mary turned her head away.
"Ach girl, no fault of his or yours, his being gotten. As beautiful a babe as I've e'er seen he is," Bess coaxed.
"It's his son," Mary hissed.
Bess tightened her hold protectively. "Just a babe, he's done naught wrong. If it's your wanting, I'll send him to the orphanage, the poor wee mite. At least send him off with his mother's blessing, lass," Bess sighed. The old cook gently opened the blanket, exposing the baby to view.
Mary raised a weak hand to bless this child before sending him away. The tiny legs kicked and little arms flailed the air. A small hand made contact and the fingers locked tightly about his mother's finger. Dark eyes seemed to try and focus on Mary's face.
"He doesn't look like him at all," Mary sobbed softly.
"No lass, this is your son," Bess soothed, a rough, work-hardened hand stroked the girl's limp hair.
"What will become of him?" Mary asked shakily.
"If he lives, they will indenture him off when he's five years or so," Bess answered calmly.
"The master promised he'd be a freeman, even be schooled. He could be a learned man, a clerk or even a Vicar," Mary whispered.
"Aye, he did. I've never known of the master going back on his word," Bess answered. "You have a loving heart, Mary. You could teach him to be a good man."
"Not the babe's fault how he came to be," Mary said sadly.
"No, of that he's innocent," Bess responded. Pray God I'm not making a tragic mistake. Neither will live if they're separated. The orphanage will not provide the care this babe needs to survive and Mary needs something to live for.
"There will be no more babes will there?" Mary asked shakily.
"No lass, this will be thy only bairn," Bess answered softly.
"Johnie." Mary examined the tiny hand holding so tightly.
"What?" Bess let out a sigh of relief.
"His name. He's John Daniel. John for the apostle whom Jesus loved. Daniel . . . may God protect him in this lions' den as he did his prophet." Mary smiled weakly.
"A good name," Bess said approvingly. "Now rest, lass."
"I want to hold my son. Just for a little while." Mary tugged weakly on the blanket.
"Alright lass, you rest, I'll settle the babe for you." Bess carefully placed little John Daniel in his mother's arms. No harm in his trying to nurse. If by chance he gets a bit a milk, it will strengthen him. I don't see it making things worse for the lass, and it may comfort them both.
"My Johnie." Mary stroked the tiny head at her breast.
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"How are they?" A voice from the shadows startled Bess as she entered the kitchen.
"Don't be scaring this old woman like that," Bess chided.
"Here, I thought you'd need this. Mary and the babe? It's too early for the birthing." A man stepped out of the shadows holding an elegant glass snifter.
"They're sleeping now. It's not good. Mary will likely bleed out before the dawning and the babe is so small," Bess sighed and settled into a chair by the fire. "Oh, you're a darling boy, Hank. This is the good stuff." She sipped the brandy.
"Damn," Hank cursed softly. "She's only a baby."
"Why are you here, Hank my boy?" Bess gently asked.
"I couldn't sleep knowing the babe was coming," he sighed, sinking to the floor and laying his head on Bess' lap. "The babe?"
"A boy, it was a very difficult birth. Mary has no milk for him." Bess ran gentle fingers through Hank's thinning hair. "I'll make up a sugar tit, but I don't have much hope."
"Would one of the village women act as wet nurse?" He sat up.
"There's fever in the village, it wouldn't be safe," Bess sighed.
"He's going to die then," Hank sighed. "Could I hold him? Just for a little while?"
"Don't go breaking your heart, son," Bess warned.
"I thought I had her safely out of Henry's path," Hank sighed.
"No protecting her once he saw her," Bess huffed. "He hunted her like a cat after a wee bird."
Bess stood up and slipped from the kitchen into her room where Mary rested. Checking on the new mother, Bess returned cradling John Daniel in her arms. "Sit you down in my chair and hold this young gentleman while I make up the sugar tit."
Brushing aside the blanket, Hank examined the baby. "He looks like Maeve. She trusted me to protect her daughter and I failed her."
"She should have been safe. Her own bed, in amongst the other maids and still he hunted her down," Bess growled angrily.
"I should have drowned Henry at birth. He finds pleasure in hurting things. Something is wrong in him, twisted some way. His mother refuses to see it," Hank muttered softly as he cuddled the baby close.
"What he did to that poor puppy when he was barely seven years." Bess shuddered at the memory.
"I can't prove it, but I'm certain he killed Benjamin," Hank admitted.
"Hank, the boy was only four when his brother died," Bess reminded shakily. Her hands paused in their work as her mind raced back in time.
"Bess, he killed him. It was his pillow in the cradle and Benjamin lay smothered," Hank snarled.
"There's no proving one way or the other," Bess reminded.
"I loved Maeve you know," he admitted, looking down at Maeve's grandson.
"Aye son, that you did," Bess sighed.
"Father suggested I keep her as a light skirt. I couldn't dishonor her in such a manner. Dead now. Perhaps she'd still be alive if I had." Hank rocked the babe gently.
"You did the right thing by your Maeve, letting her go," Bess comforted the grieving man.
"Now I'll lose what remains of her." He held John Daniel tightly as tears ran down his face.
"Let the babe suck on this whilst I check on his mam." Bess patted Hank's shoulder as she offered the sugar tit.
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"God have mercy!" Bess bustled back into the kitchen. "The bleeding is all but stopped. Mary might yet live. Now, I wonder if it was something to do with nursing the babe that helped? Only God knows."
"Bess?" Hank asked faintly.
"Too soon to tell, but she's got a chance now," Bess said firmly.
"Well babe, your mam is a fighter. Just like your Gran was." Hank lifted the baby up and smiled faintly as the little eyes tried to focus. An angry wail filled the air as the baby voiced his displeasure.
"John Daniel she named him," Bess said.
"John Daniel, you'll grow to be a fine man, a good man. Bess and your Mam will see to it. I'll help as much as I can without endangering the three of you," Augustus Henry FitzRoy the second, Lord Euston promised his grandson.
Irish Brigade Winter Quarters
France
Jan. 1, 1757
"If ye'll be sharing yon blanket this bitter night, friend, it's this bit of chicken soup I'll be sharing wit' ye. Still hot it is," The dark haired youngster smiled hopefully.
"Hot soup? Where by all that is blessed did ye find HOT soup on this night?" The blonde haired boy demanded in amazement.
"Hairy Hannah," the dark haired boy smiled widely.
"Now how is it that bit o' muslin found a chicken I'm wondering?" The other boy huffed.
"A heart of gold has Hannah. A light skirt she may be, but she's a fine woman," the dark boy answered firmly. "I'll be takin' my soup and findin' another bed this night, friend."
"No wait, I was rude. How is it that ye know . . . her?" The other boy coughed softly and curled into his blanket tighter.
"Why did you say naught? It's ill you are." The dark haired lad dropped to his knees by the other boy and rested a hand on his forehead.
"No help for it," the blonde whispered hoarsely.
"Here now, let's be sittin' you up. Where might be your cup? Ah, here it is. Now then, drink up. I'll not have my chicken stealing go to waste." The Scottish burr evident despite his French words.
"Thank you," the other boy offered, his French laced with a soft Irish brogue.
"Buck Wilmington, fresh come from Aberdeen in Scotland."
"Chris Larabee, of nowhere now," the other boy coughed faintly.
"Another lad driven out of his home I'll be thinkin," Buck answered, watching carefully as Chris sipped the soup. "Get some of that behind your belt, and we'll be seeing how yer doing."
"Buck? What kind of name is that?" Chris asked curiously.
"Some'at the lasses took to callin' me long ago. Mam is the only one that used my Christian name," Wilmington answered softly.
"Gone yer mam?" Chris asked hoarsely.
"Aye," Buck answered sadly.
"Mine as well, sisters too," Chris coughed. "Slide over close and use tha blanket, and perhaps I'll finally be warm. What is it I'll be owing ye for the broth?"
"Naught, you have need of it." Buck scooted close and pulled the blanket over himself.
"I'm no beggar to be takin' charity," Chris snarled.
He'll freeze by morning if he lays here in the cold alone. Stubborn pride is naught but trouble. I know Mam, ye told me many the time. Ach Mam, it's my own pride now. It's askin' I'll be.
"Chris Larabee, is it knowing ta scribe and read ye do?" Buck asked faintly.
"Aye, I know how to read and write. Why is it you're asking?" Chris coughed deeply.
"Think ye could be learning me the way of it? I promised me mam that I'd learn." Buck carefully avoided eye contact.
"I'll be teaching ye to write and read. Can't be disappointing yer Mam." Chris offered his hand.
"It's more than one bowl of thin soup that will be worth, I'm thinking." Buck smiled warmly. "First, to get us both warm." Wilmington wrapped his arms around the other boy and urged him to his feet. "Now, be keeping yer mouth closed whilst I sweet talk Hannah into lettin' us sleep by her fire. Cough a bit, but not too much else she takes it into mind to boil up some foul concoction to heal thee."
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"Sleeping now he is." Buck rose from the nest of blanket and his warm plaid, carefully tucking Larabee in. Checking the warming stones, he switched them out for some heating in the fire.
"Thank you, Buck. He'd never have let me take care of him without your aid," Hannah sighed.
"I'll be teaching him better manners," Buck promised.
"I'm not but a camp whore and well we both know it, Buck," Hannah smiled sadly.
"You're a beautiful lady, Mistress Hannah, both within and without and it is my pleasure to have made your acquaintance." Buck bowed low, kissing her stained and calloused hand.
"A gentleman you are, Buck Wilmington. You bring a smile to all the ladies. That is a kindness that we'll not be forgetting. Now lie down and go to sleep. I'll charge you to keep your friend quiet if it's company that comes calling." Hannah ruffled his hair and patted his behind. "A few years older lad and it's my blankets you'd be sharing."
Somewhere along the Missouri River
Early Summer 1758
Tiaret straightened up from her washing on the river bank and laughed softly as she watched the frustrated Nathari attempt to slip away from Trevin to no avail. The little guardian tracked him easily through the underbrush despite his efforts to hide his trail.
"Trevin, come to me," Tiaret called softly.
"Yes Momma?" Trevin's head popped up from a small clump of grass, seemingly too small to hide anything larger than a mouse and hurried over.
"Leave your brother alone. He wants to spend time with his year mates." Tiaret stroked the boy's soft curls.
"Doesn't Nathari like me anymore?" Trevin asked faintly, chewing on his lip.
"Nathari loves you. Sometimes he wants to just be Nathari and not the companion. Now, help me gather these clean clothes," Tiaret ordered. Look at those long legs, the baby is no more.
"Tad comes." Vin turned his head, looking up the river bank.
"He does, does he?" Tiaret snorted.
"He's got mushrooms." Trevin licked his lips.
"Go raid for me, else he'll keep them all for himself," Tiaret ordered.
"He'll yell," Trevin reminded with a grin.
"I know," Tiaret nodded, a smile on her face.
"He's going to threaten to spank me," Trevin pointed out.
"I'll remind him that raiding is good training for a young warrior," Tiaret answered with a snigger.
Vin grinned impishly and disappeared into the underbrush.
Tiaret smiled and shook her head. Doubtful I'll get him in clothes again until cold weather. Well, it saves on the washing.
Bellowed curses soon filled the air. The naked boy flew down the river bank, clutching a bark basket with Ebin in hot pursuit. Skidding to a stop, Vin offered the basket to Tiaret.
"Don't be cursing little man," Tiaret scowled playfully at her husband.
"He bit me," Ebin protested.
"Trevin?" Tiaret demanded.
"Wouldn't let go of the basket. It was barely a pinch," Vin defended himself.
"Let me see," Tiaret demanded. "Humph, such a great injury I can't even find a mark," she snorted after examining Ebin's wrist.
"My beautiful woman," Ebin smiled gently, stroking Tiaret's cheek.
"Yah gotta share!" Trevin thrust out his chin.
"Why?" Ebin demanded with a laugh.
"'Cause Momma says," Vin answered triumphantly.
"A very good reason then," Ebin agreed.
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The three settled under the branches of a tree and ate the mushrooms Ebin had found. Sleepily, Vin curled up in Tiaret's lap. Nuzzling close, he started to nurse then pulled back. Tilting his head, he seemed to fade out. Carefully, the boy eased off of his mother than laid his head down in her lap. Tiaret shrugged at Ebin's questioning look.
"What are you doing Vin?" Ebin asked as he watched the boy run his fingers across Tiaret's abdomen.
"Playin' wit' tha baby. Vin best not nurse no more, baby needs tha milk," Vin answered sleepily.
"What baby?" Ebin asked with a laugh.
"She's right here in Momma's belly." Trevin patted the spot.
Tiaret's eyes widened in surprise as Ebin sat up excitedly and looked at his wife.
"I didn't know," Tiaret whispered.
"A baby? Our baby? A little girl . . . are you sure?" Ebin rolled over and wrapped his arm around his foster son.
"Uh huh, heartbeat sounds kind of like rain drops on water. Can I go tell Tadig?"
"Yes, run tell Daffydd the good news. Trevin, stay for supper with your Tadig." Ebin pulled Tiaret over into his embrace.
"Yer gonna git all giggly?" Vin asked in disgust.
"Yes we are," Tiaret answered calmly.
"I'll stay wit' Tadig," Trevin giggled before running off.
Pennsylvania Colony, North America
July 4, 1758
"Da!" Anna squealed and leapt off the porch in complete confidence that Josiah would catch her. Sanchez swung the little girl into his arms. Smiling widely, he spun her around several times. How many times have I told her I am not her father? I couldn't love her any more if she were truly mine own.
"What is it that thee hast been doing lass? There is flour on thine nose," Josiah asked.
"Making bread," Anna giggled.
"Oh," Josiah winced and cast a desperate glance back down the path from which he had recently come.
"It's alright Da. Grandma didn't help this time," Anna whispered.
"That's wonderful!" Josiah blurted, then blushed as Amos' knowing chuckle was heard.
"Umpa," Anna held out her arms for a hug.
"I have something I'm wishing to talk with thee about Josiah," Amos said seriously.
"Yes?" Josiah looked over curiously.
"After the supper Lad, after the supper. Anna is becoming an excellent cook, let us not be wasting the Lord's bounty," Amos chided.
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"Has the war come to us? Is there Indian trouble?" Josiah asked once Martha had gone to put Anna to bed.
"No Lad, at least none local. Thee hast worked most diligently. Thee hast earned back thine and Anna's indenture price a full year sooner than I didst deem possible. The wood loves thee. Thy furniture sells most well. I will admit most humbly thou art a far better cabinet maker than ever I could be. Thee hast the gift. Here art thy indenture papers, thou art now a freeman." Amos handed the dumbfounded Josiah an oilskin covered packet. "It is a time of decision for thee, son. If thee chose to work for me another half year, I will provide thee with a full set of carpentry tools."
"That is very generous," Josiah gasped.
"Thee are most welcome to remain among us, despite thine heathen ways," Amos teased gently. "Anna will miss thee most grievously. Martha and I will miss thee as well."
"If thou wouldst have me, I would stay. I would miss thee all as well. This is the first true home I have ever known," Josiah admitted.
"Thou art most welcome, Josiah Sanchez," Amos smiled warmly.
"One thing, seeing as I'm a freeman, I'll not be eating kidney pie ever again," Josiah said firmly.
"Then thee must be telling the missus thine ownself." Amos sat back with twinkling eyes.
"Damn," Josiah whimpered.
"I'll be taking no note of thy curse at my table this time Josiah." Amos patted a broad shoulder sympathetically
London, England
July 4, 1759
The Vauxhall Gardens were rather empty this evening. The rising temperatures had driven many of the aristocracy out of the city and into their summer homes.
A rather stout, elegantly dressed gentleman made his way through the gardens, ball rooms, music chambers and finally into the gaming rooms. He promised me he would gamble no more. The older man sighed, looking at his son as he sat scowling at one of the tables. William is losing again it seems. If this continues, I'll take out an advertisement, advising that I'll not pay any of his debts. The irate father studied the other players at the Whist tables. Wastrels and ne'er do-wells the lot of them. Now what's this? A diamond among the gravel. The lad can't be more than 10 or 11 years.
After a play, William stood up, cursing that the boy was cheating.
"No, he isn't. He's simply using his intellect. Which you seem to be neglecting my boy," the father announced with a chuckle as he walked over.
"Thank you sir, but I don't believe we have met." The boy studied his benefactor closely.
"Oh we haven't, young man. My name is Benjamin Franklin." Franklin smiled warmly and extended his hand.
"Dr. Franklin from Pennsylvania Colony?" Ezra's emerald eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Yes and you are?" Franklin asked in a friendly manner.
"Ezra P. Standish," Ezra offered his hand cautiously.
"What, none of those gratuitous remarks on how it's a pleasure to meet me as half of London suggests and the other half protests?" Franklin asked mischievously.
"That depends sir, am I about to be lectured on the evils of taking other men's money?" Ezra asked with a faint smile.
"No, I'm not even going to lecture you on taking my money. That lecture will be retained for my son, which he'll be hearing later. At which point, if he has any sense in his head whatsoever, he'll retire to his chambers for the rest of this evening." Franklin scowled over at his son who promptly stomped out of the room.
"May I join you?" Franklin waved to the empty chair.
"Are you playing?" Ezra asked sweetly.
"One should always pay a fine craftsman his due," Franklin answered. "You seem to have some rather unsavory gentlemen interested in you, my boy." Franklin settled himself at the card table across from the youngster and studied the men hanging around the card room's doors.
"My mother's admirers unfortunately," the lad answered calmly. Bright emerald green eyes studied his companion. "She is elsewhere tonight."
"Then perhaps they'll grow discouraged if we sit here for a bit." The man's face relaxed into a friendly smile and his eyes twinkled.
"Why?" Ezra asked, for some reason more curious than frightened.
"You, my lad, are the only one with a brain in this room tonight. Except me of course," the genial man chuckled.
"I've been reading about your experiments with electricity. To what possible use might this . . . electricity be put?" Ezra asked.
"Oh, time will tell. The more you understand something. the better use you can make of it," Ben answered calmly.
"Such as the lightening . . . rods you are touting?" Ezra asked.
"Why yes, someday we may harness the electricity for our needs, as we have fire. For light, heat, cooking, one never knows," Franklin laughed cheerfully.
"Have you read any of the recent information on Mr. Watt and his experiments with an engine powered with steam?" Ezra asked.
"It sounds quite fascinating," Franklin smiled.
Hours later, the two were still chatting animatedly.
"Ezra, I am enjoying our conversation immensely. I would truly like to keep up an exchange of ideas. I can always be reached in Philadelphia if no where else," Dr. Franklin said.
Ezra blinked in shock at the offer. "I am neither a gentleman nor of great social position," Standish huffed.
"If you would persuade, you must appeal to interest rather than intellect. You my boy, have already learned something which most of the world never does. I will look forward to our future contact and correspondence," Franklin laughed.
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"Ezra, my darling boy," Maude swept up regally.
"Maude," Ezra rose politely, along with his companion.
"Maude, may I present Dr. Benjamin Franklin of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Colony. Dr. Franklin, may I present Maude Standish." Ezra introduced the pair.
"Ezra, my boy, where ever did you find such a lovely companion? I'm quite envious of your good fortune," Franklin flirted shamelessly as he kissed Maude's glove.
"You sir, are a most unrepentant flirt," Maude flirted back.
"At my age my dear, I'm entitled," Franklin smiled unrepentantly. "It is growing quite late. I would offer to escort you both home."
"Why, thank you ever so much, Dr. Franklin," Maude purred, placing her hand on his arm, thereby allowing him to escort her from the room.
The rough looking men in the doorway drew back, whispering intently among themselves as the trio passed.