Chapter 1
Colonel William Tavington was a cold hearted and utterly nasty man. He lived for the army and the army was his entire life, nothing stood in the way of his goals and right now his goal was to crush the militia uprising in the Americas. He would do whatever it took to succeed and he would ruthlessly destroy anything and anyone who stood in his way.
His own men feared him and his commanding officers were wary of his temper.
Word had spread and back in England the morals of this man raised an eyebrow and caused concern.
His tactics were often felt to be heavy-handed at best, despicable at worst.
Tavington was restless, he stood at the flap of his tent and looked out over the field, his field, his men, but these brought him no solace. He had been rudely awoken again by a dream.
Rumours amongst the local people were running rife, about a witch who lived in the woods, apparently this witch could pretend to be a man, she could ride and shoot like a man and had even been sighted dressed as one. The stories swung between fear and awe of this old woman but also they delighted in tales of her sneaking into the British camps and killing soldiers whilst they slept.
Of course Tavington knew this to be supposition and rumour, he knew the stories just made the locals feel better and that they were utterly untrue. But since the arriving in this area he had been plagued by dreams and a feeling in his gut that something was coming.
Rebecca was feared by most of the locals and she liked it that way, she kept herself to herself and they kept their distance from her. For generations the women of her line had been unmarried women, all of whom had just one child, a daughter, all of whom were conceived and born out of wedlock.
Each of the women grew up in the wild, away from the nearby villages and away from the traditional schooling and moralistic teachings pushed upon their peers. They instead learned to live from the land, to respect the land and how to give back more than you ever need take. Learning to use herbs for cookery and medicines, learning to tell the signals of coming seasonal changes.
These were by no means uneducated women, they could all read and write. They were all beautiful and compassionate but preferred to keep their own company rather than listening to the prattling women from the villages.
Although fearing Rebecca and her family before her, the villagers and later townsfolk would call for Rebecca when they were sick or when babies were due and the local women could not deliver the child safely. From these ministrations Rebecca made a little money or swapped her services for items she needed like flour or lumber.
These women also took lovers; they were discreet but would not worry about little things like marriage. Many times a married man would be a better prospect as it was easier to get rid of them once no longer required.
Each woman in her time would know when she would be most fertile and would seek out a man to father her daughter, and it always would be a daughter…
For Rebecca she knew her time was coming, she herself had never taken a lover but like her grandmother and mother before her she had been dreaming of a man who would cross her path. A man who would be strong in nature and ultimately masculine; a man who would be the total opposite of her, the only man who could be the god to father a goddess.