Chapter 54 - Rest Stop by the Creek

A detachment from the Green Dragoons thundered through the woods on a direct course to the main British camp, to retrieve the remaining units of the British Legion for the strike against Black Swamp.

After conferring with his Captain's, Tavington had sent the troops that had accompanied him to Pembroke, to Black Swamp under the command of Captain Joseph Simms. The forced march would be hard on the infantry, the Colonel knew, but they would be in place ready to attack by nightfall.

An hour or so from the British camp, Tavington held his arm up high to signal his score of twenty to slow. The horses needed constant rests, they could not sustain riding for hours without stop.

"Twenty minutes," Tavington commanded when the unit dismounted. "Enough time for a quick bite and to rest the horses."

The men nodded and immediately began setting up their cook pots. A fire was lit in record time.

"I will stand watch," Bordon offered. The Captain needed to be alone with his thoughts, needed to be away from the other men. Most importantly, he needed to be away from Tavington, just for the moment. Without waiting for a response, he stalked away to stand by himself near a large oak, while Tavington disappeared to the edge of the creek.

What had taken place at Pembroke earlier that day had been a massacre, pure and simple, and Bordon had to come to grips with it.

He understood why Tavington had made Wilkins throw the first firebrand. The Colonel had confided to Bordon that he doubted the Colonial Captain's resolve, since Wilkins had married "that Patriot woman". Tavington had forced Wilkins to show his Loyalty in the most gruesome way possible.

And there were more implications for Wilkins than throwing the first fire brand, Bordon reflected. In following his orders, Wilkins had consigned his wife's niece to death. Of course, theirs was a connection made from marriage, not of blood. But still, what would Mrs. Wilkins say when she learned of Anne Howard's death and her husband's role in it?

Bordon sighed heavily, he knew that the reason he was dwelling over Wilkins dilemma, was because he did not want to face the larger issue.

The massacre itself.

And it had been a massacre, of major proportions. At least thirty civilian's dead - some of them children. The Captain closed his eyes, breathing heavily now. He had heard their terrified screaming. Even as he followed Tavington further from the church, he had heard the screams become fever pitched and desperate.

Wilkins had stayed, staring at the church with horror. When the Captain finally joined Bordon and Tavington, Wilkins had been distraught and broken.

Tavington however...

Bordon's eyes snapped open and he looked around the tree at Tavington, now shaving in the creek. By his relaxed stance, by the way he groomed himself with such an air of nonchalance, Bordon knew that Tavington felt no remorse over his actions at Pembroke, and probably never would. He understood somewhat - if Margaret and his own daughter had been taken and their lives threatened, he would be in a state of blood lust too! But to kill innocents... Not the men - men were never innocent in times of war. But the women and the children...

No, Bordon did not think he could ever stoop to such degradations. He turned to face forward again, his eyes scanning the small, wooded valley.

"Tea's ready!" One of the men called. Bordon ignored it, not leaving his sentry duty. One of the Dragoons would bring him a cup of tea and some stew shortly. They would eat quickly then be on their way to the British encampment. Their stop their would be short also, long enough to make their report and gather up the rest of the Legion before they were off to Black Swamp.

It was going to be a long and bloody night, but time was of an essence now. They needed to get Lyra from the camp before the rebels learned of the massacre, for they would surely kill her.

His thoughts turned to the massacre again, he found himself wondering what the hell Joseph Simms thought of it all, for the boy seemed to damned near worship the ground Tavington walked on. A good Captain, a good man, and yet he had not seemed any where near as affected by the genocide as some of the other troops. Then again, Lyra was his cousin and the two were very close.

A movement caught Bordon's eye and before his mind even registered what he was seeing, he began to shout.

"To arms! To arms!"

Bordon pulled his own pistol as the the men behind him looked up, momentarily startled. They swung into action as well, as the rebels Bordon had caught sight of crested the hill and began riding hard down into their midst. Bordon fired once, then pulled his saber and entered the fray.

::::::::::::::::

The swaying of the horse drew Lyra fully awake. She could not understand it, hadn't she just coupled with Benjamin? Christ, why did it hurt so much? Her head was on fire, her face, her back, her arms, her backside. So much pain and the swaying of the horse was not helping. Where the devil was she? She shifted in the saddle, became aware that she was bent over the horses neck with her arms tied around its neck. She began to panic.

"Nah, nah, nah - relax," Curly's voice came to her, he slowed the horse and stopped. "The ropes were necessary, Miss Mathan," he explained as he unbound her wrists. "I did not want you to fall off."

"Curly?" She whispered, her head pounded like a drum, it hurt so very much.

"Yeah, its me."

"Where are we?" She peered through the trees all around them, it was coming on to dark, that much was clear.

"Not far from a British camp. I'm glad your awake, because we'll be coming across Redcoat scouts soon, I've managed to avoid them so far. But now, we'll head right for them, I think. Then you'll have to make your own way - but I will wait to make sure you're in friendly hands, like, before I leave you. But I can't stay, because they'll hang me, for certain."

"Oh, sweet Lord above, you helped me to escape," she turned in the saddle to glance up at him.

"Yeah. I did," he said as he mounted the horse once more. He took up the reins and Lyra wound her fingers through the horses mane.

"Benjamin will kill you."

"Not if he doesn't find out and Skunk is covering for me. So don't say who bought you outta there, alright? I can make it back to camp, and they'll be none the wiser."

"Why?" She breathed.

"Because it was wrong, what they were doing to you. Gabriel beating you and Ben trying to fill your belly. But that wouldn't have worked, hey? You're already with child," he kicked the horse and they began to move again.

"You knew?" She gasped over her shoulder.

"Yeah," he scoffed. "I knew. Most women get sick, can't eat. But my wife, she was hungry, all the time. For food and for... other things."

"Oh," Lyra blushed crimson. "You never said."

"Nah. I don't care much for the Butcher, Miss Mathan, but if Benjamin had found out - or worse yet, Danvers, you would have been hurt, real bad. The babe would have been -"

"Don't say it, please!" Lyra wailed. "Oh, my baby, I can't stand the thought. Curly... I could never repay you for this."

"I did the right thing, Miss Mathan. Thats all the reward I need. Besides, Danvers was getting worse, he wanted you, he did. Wanted to hurt you, like. Real bad, I think. And the other men were out for your blood after..." He paused, not wanting to be the one who told Lyra what atrocity her fiancé had committed. "Well, suffice it to say things have gotten real dangerous for you in camp after today and I don't think you'd have survived."

"Oh..." she breathed fearfully, she remembered Gabriel's rage and a shiver of terror shot along her spine. The other rebels in camp had had no love for her, and she dwelled over what they would have done to her. Nothing good, if Gabriel's sudden violence was anything to go by.

"Thank you, Curly," she said quietly.

Curly answered by patting her shoulder in commiseration.

They rode in silence for some time under the canopy of trees, it was becoming increasingly darker by the moment. Lyra wondered how long she had been unconscious for - hours, it seemed.

"Not far to the first Redcoat, Miss Mathan. And I'll show you the way, but you must walk. Can you walk?"

"I think so." He helped her down and steadied her for several moments, to ensure she could stand.

"What did William do, Curly?" She asked him as she held his gaze. "Why was Gabriel..." She shuddered, recalling his rage, his murderous intent. "I've never seen him like that before, I didn't think he was capable of it."

"You haven't seen him in battle," Curly said gently. "As for what happened to cause his anger - I don't think I'll tell you Miss, best you remain an innocent lamb. I am sending you back to the Butcher, and I reckon its best if you just don't know what a monster Tavington is, what he's capable of. I wouldn't go asking, neither."

"Monster?" She asked in a small voice. "It was that bad?"

He held her gaze in silence.

"And then some," he finally answered in hushed tone.

::

He held her arm and led her quietly through the woods, stopping when they drew close to the first sentries.

"Right through there, you see that beacon?" Curly pointed through the foliage.

"Yes. Where will you be?"

"Within hearing distance," he whispered. "Make lots of noise as you approach so they don't think you're sneaking up on them. Oh, and tell 'em who you are, right off. You say, 'I'm Colonel Tavington's fiancé, Lyra Mathan!', real loud like, alright? Nothing else - you get Tavington's name in first, before all else."

"Oh... Alright." Lyra said nervously.

"And if it turns nasty, I'll come help you. There are only four of them."

Lyra began to laugh, a relief of pent up tension.

"Only four of them," she repeated and giggled. There was only one of Curly. "So sure of yourself!"

She sobered suddenly, searching the Patriots face. "I won't breathe a word of who helped me. But Curly... You have my gratitude. Thank you. So much."

"Nah, none of that. There's been bad done, Miss Mathan, on both sides. And good done too, on both sides. Did you know your Colonel helped a Patriot woman, took her side over a Loyalist, when a dispute arose over a bunch of dairy cows? The Loyalist thought to curry the Butcher's favour by stealing the woman's cows and giving them to the Dragoons to help supply them, but Tavington was having none of it. He sent the cows back to the Patriot woman, and drubbed the Loyalist with his sword. He's committed some atrocities too, more bad than good in my opinion. But you shouldn't have to pay for any of it."

"Thank you," she said again, feeling the words too simple, it was not enough. She kissed his cheek and embraced him warmly. "Please don't get caught, Curly." She whispered against his ear. "Don't let them know you helped me, please? Be careful."

"I will. Now go, the longer it takes for me to get back the sooner they will discover my ruse. I have to get back to Skunk, not dawdle here... Unless you want me to dandle you on my knee?"

"No," Lyra laughed. "I've had all I can take of being dandled. I want my William, now."

"Of with you then."

Lyra began to walk down the path Curly had led her to, it was almost pitch black now, the clouds above made it a moonless night. Spying the firebrand up ahead she began to make her way toward it. She turned back, but could not make anything out. Curly said he would be there somewhere however, so she waved, then turned back.

"Hello?" She called cautiously toward the circle of light ahead. He had said to make lots of noise, but it hurt too much to stomp, her head was splitting from Gabriel's punches. "Hello?"

"Who goes there? Identify yourself." A man's edgy voice snapped out. She could see them now, four Redcoats standing to attention, alert.

"Ah... I'm Colonel Tavington's fiancé, Miss Lyra Mathan. Can you have me returned to him?"

One of the men stepped forward, a firebrand in one hand. He studied her face carefully.

"Yes, Miss Mathan. I can. But keep in mind, if you are not who you say you are, the Colonel will show you no mercy."

"Surely no one would be fool enough to make a claim like this?" She asked archly. "Look here, I'm tired, hungry, pregnant, I've been beaten by my captors, tormented... I just want to go home, I just want my William. Can't you take me to him?"

"Of course, Miss," the Redcoat said, suddenly contrite, he began to lead her toward the other Redcoats. "I am sorry, there have been several attempts to infiltrate the main camp, some spies have already been discovered. But you are quite right, it would be incredibly foolhardy to make a claim like yours if it were not true. You were beaten, you say? How is your baby?"

"Fine, I think, thank you. I was able to protect my stomach -"

"Not your face, however," one of the men leaned in close. "Christ, Colonel Tavington will be furious, you're covered with bruises!"

"How did you get away?"

"And how did you get here?"

"A friend helped me escape from Benjamin Martin's camp. And I will be grateful to him until my dying day," she said, nice and loud for Curly's ears.

::

One of the British Officers escorted her to the British camp.

"I thought it would be bigger than this," Lyra frowned at the amount of tents and cook fires.

"Oh, this is not the main camp, Miss Mathan. You will need to remain here tonight, and will be escorted to Colonel Tavington tomorrow. You should be there before mid morning."

"But I want to see him now!" Lyra wailed, suddenly at the end of it. "I thought we were there, that he would be here!"

"I am sorry, Miss," the Officer repeated sympathetically. He took the weeping girl by the arm and had her settled in one of the camp tents.

::::::::::::::::

Before dusk, in severe pain and suffering bloody loss, Tavington somehow managed to stumble into the Redcoat camp. The last bit of his energy spent, he fell from the saddle and collapsed to the dirt.

The next thing he remembered was waking up to pain, so much pain, as a surgeon bent over him working on his wound by the light of the nearby lanterns. He caught sight of O'Hara and Cornwallis, both of them waiting fearfully for news of his condition. He reached out and grabbed Cornwallis' arm.

"Was shaving in... a stream... They came over... the hill like... a wave... at least... twenty rebels..." his voice was feverish and filled with agony.

"Just rest, Colonel," Cornwallis tried to sooth the man to no avail.

"Killed... the whole troop... Bordon, right before... my eyes..."

"You need to rest, Colonel," O'Hara took a turn.

"Get him some more laudanum!" Cornwallis snapped.

"Yes, my Lord," the surgeon nodded at a corpsman assisting him.

"No!" Tavington yelled. "They'll kill her... after this..! Must get.. to Black Swamp!" He gripped Cornwallis harder - or tried to, he was losing his strength. "Black Swamp! They... are in Black... Swamp!" His grip loosened, he was about to faint. "By the... Old Spanish... Mission... Tell Simms..."

In his delirious state, Tavington forgot that he had already sent Simms and Wilkins to Black Swamp.

"It will be done, Colonel," Cornwallis said sympathetically. "But not by you. We will get your fiancé out and capture the Ghost at the same time. You have fulfilled your end of the bargain, Colonel - the Ghost is as good as caught," Cornwallis' voice was reassuring but Tavington had already passed out again.

:::::::::

A/N: Thanks Smiley! :-) I'm pleased you didn't think it Gabriel's reaction was too far fetched.