"You slaughtered my sons!" Benjamin yelled suddenly; Tavington picked boredly at his fingernails, taking care to maintain his balance.
"Very astute observation," he answered, curling his mouth in bemusement. "You do forget, sir, your younger son rushed my men in foolish, passionate desperation. Of course, I might have been a bit…hard handed in my admonition, but I will stand by my assessment of his behavior." Tavington was positively leering, enjoying the moment all too much as his foe seethed, and all the more, for being unable to retaliate.
"He was just a boy-"
"And old enough to know what happens when you throw yourself in front of a loaded gun!" Tavington shot back. "Stupid from the offing, and your older son was hardly brighter. He may have impressed me with his sheer longevity through that haphazard ambush, but just like the rest of you, he left practicality for impulse and traded a musket for a bootknife." William snorted disdainfully. "What a green little mistake…And whilst attacking a superior officer, no less."
"I see…" Martin was choking on his anger, his mouth and mind working furiously not to mutter any understanding toward Tavington's blunt observation. "And the church?"
"Well it did the job, did it not? If I couldn't find you in the woods, surely you'd come running if I burned up your safe-holdings."
"They were innocent people!"
"They were traitors." Tavington replied disparagingly. "Each one deserved a noose, but we only had torches… and time was running short," he grinned wickedly, the full red of his jacket now visible to the rebel colonel.
"No, you butchered women and children!"
"And you bludgeoned and massacred an entire regiment of men who had nothing to do with my actions on your pathetic little farm; these men were possibly husbands, sons and fathers, just as you are, yes?"
Benjamin grew quiet, and Tavington continued gleefully on.
"Perhaps, then, as I said before, we are not so dissimilar."
"No, I am not like you!" Benjamin answered tightly, balling his fists.
"Make your case then," Tavington shrugged, "After that crazed bloodbath and then just watching how you fight like a wild savage, hacking away with the brutality a drunk axeman, I really think your rebuttal has little chance of changing my mind."
"But have you no shame for what you've done?" Martin asked, trying vainly to ask a sensible question instead of letting his enemy dangle him for his own pleasure.
"Why?" The Dragoon colonel shrugged.
"Because to have any pride in it is nothing short of the worst, damnable acts."
William responded with silence, eying the Colonial with a hidden, icy stare, looking him over as if he were sizing up the best angle at which to strike wary prey. Finally, seeing an opening, he ambushed, with a slow, deliberate, methodic tone.
"I would think, sir, that it would be much worse to cower behind your acts, hide in the trees and assail like a common thief."
"It was a new tactic, and the only way we could be efficient-"
"Precisely!" Tavington cut in, gloating, "My case stands. New tactics, even those that prove brutal, are necessary. My methods may be unorthodox and frightful to some, but you, a fellow soldier, and officer, would surely understand that war breeds ingenuity, even at the cost and collateral of the innocent. Do you not agree?"
"Such a need for inventive methods does not prove them any less shameful." Benjamin answered. "One still has to answer for their sins."
"Yes," Tavington agreed, "And have you answered for yours?"
"I should ask you." Benjamin spoke. "I am here, alive, and you are here, but only as a shade, a leftover.
"But are you alive?" Tavington pressed. "Or do you merely walk while your soul rots with the others? You see, I may be physically dead, but I've not been sent one way or the other, which makes me wonder, which one of us is truly forgiven?"
