9 August
As they had when they set out from Schuylerville, Uncas and Chingachgook carried everything three Mohicans needed to begin again; all that was missing was the third Mohican. When this was over, Uncas would make Nathaniel lug both their packs and see how he liked it.
He shifted his weight, rolled back his shoulders, and stared up at the early morning sky.
"Këlamikapi!" Stand still!
Uncas leaned forward onto his musket, hands gripped around the barrel. He had long been accustomed to hunting all day without a skin to show for it; his father's order brought him back to boyhood again, fidgeting in the brush as they waited for their quarry to appear. His current agitation must be obvious.
He nodded his head towards the stockade and likewise responded in Mohican. "They chain my brother even now. If we do not speak with Munro soon, this will be of no use."
"Ayema." Even so.
Chingachgook was always able to accept what he could not control with grim determination. Uncas saw the wisdom in it, but found himself unequal to the task. Perhaps it was simply a facet of age he had yet to achieve.
He stared at the door to Munro's quarters, willing the officers' meeting to finish so they could get this over with and be gone. A clearing of his father's throat reminded him once more of patience, so he looked away. The entirety of the fort's inhabitants were milling about in loose groups around the ordered blocks of troopers, waiting to be told where to assemble in preparation for leaving.
Once, perhaps days ago, Uncas believed himself capable of keeping his emotions in check, of achieving the outward stoicism that granted his father wary respect wherever they went. Now he wondered if there was anything in this world that he did know.
Alice emerged from the kitchen, her hair pinned up into elaborate braids as they had been in the days before the fort, though her ribbons were missing, her earrings too.
Alice's paced slowed when she caught sight of him, but she did not falter. As she curtsied in greeting, he caught a light herbal fragrance, as though she had bathed in scented water.
"Chingachgook, Uncas."
Uncas found that he could barely meet her eyes as he warred between gut-wrenching hurt and desire. His father responded instead.
"Miss."
"Do call me Alice." Her voice was quiet, distracted as she continued to glance at Uncas. "Are you here to speak with my father?"
Chingachgook grunted in affirmation.
"I'll be sure you do, and wish you luck." She did not sound confident. "If all else fails, Cora and I shall look into retaining the services of a lawyer for Nathaniel as soon as possible."
Chingachgook glanced from his son to Alice. "No need."
"Please, after all you and your family have done for us, it is nothing."
He paused then inclined his head. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." She glanced down at her feet.
His father silently stepped away, giving them a semblance of privacy.
"All right, then." As Alice was about to make her leave, she looked up to see that Chingachgook had already done so. "Have I done something to offend?"
"No. Never." As he saw the distress in her eyes, Uncas realized how she had interpreted his father's sudden disappearance as well as his own foolish silence. He did not wish to punish her. Could he blame her for putting an end to something that was already impossible? Maybe it was even for the best that she no longer wanted him. In that way, only one of them would part unhappily.
He studied her face in the silence that followed, committing it to memory. Still, she seemed troubled. Without thinking, he reached for her hand, fingers grazing across her wrist before he remembered himself and pulled away with a muttered, "Sorry."
Behind him, the door to the colonel's quarters opened and shut. Lt. Ashton's unwelcome voice had him clenching his jaw.
"Come to beg Colonel Munro for clemency I suppose? Could you not find it beneath his daughters' skirts?"
Alice's face flushed. Likely, she had never been spoken of in that way—nor would she had Ashton realized she was there, obscured as she was with Uncas between them. He turned to eye Ashton, fighting to remain calm as the action revealed Alice's presence.
Ashton gave pause before recovering, feigning a bored countenance as though he couldn't give a damn what Alice heard. "Perhaps I spoke in haste."
It could almost be an apology, but more likely it was another insult. The dual meaning was not lost on Uncas, but he and his father did nothing in retaliation—nor could they without facing a harsh punishment.
He did not consider that Alice could.
"Are you this miserable because you're drunk, or merely that you wish to be?"
Uncas shook his head in an attempt to quell her. This could only end poorly.
"I'll admit, my patience is tried a little further each day I'm spent cooped up with savages." Uncas could not help but notice the way Ashton glanced at Chingachgook's war club as he edged between them. For all his derision, fear lay at the heart of it. "You ought to have more care, Miss Munro. I have seen what this sort are capable of without proper oversight. Vicious lot."
"I find that their humanity is far more to my liking than yours, Lieutenant."
He bowed his head mockingly as he strode past. "I'd expect no less of an Indian's whore."
Uncas hefted his rifle, giving no thought to the sounds of the door opening behind him or of his father's warning. Instead, he swung the stock into Ashton's gut, forcing the man to double over and collapse to his knees. Uncas barely had to move to hold the butt of the weapon against the officer's throat. One jab, and he could silence him for good.
His opportunity came to an end as somebody launched himself against his back. An arm clad in an officer's red coat reached around his neck and pulled. Uncas instinctively gripped it with his free hand, still holding his musket in the other. He heard Alice trying to quell his father, amongst others, and forced himself to still.
Duncan Heyward growled in his ear, "Drop it!"
He did so, releasing both his weapon and the man's arm. Ashton still knelt before him, coughing and clutching at his abdomen. After a couple breaths, Heyward removed his chokehold on Uncas, but kept a firm grip on his upper arm.
Chingachgook stood beside him, effectively looming over Ashton with his war club held casually against his shoulder. He wasn't threatening outright, but it was enough that the Lieutenant flinched and fell onto his back.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Munro's voice bellowed from the room. Uncas turned to see the man himself appear in the doorway, a coterie of officers now standing outside.
Ashton climbed to his feet. "Ravenous beasts—"
"Major, Lieutenant—inside, now."
"Papa, wait!" Alice hurried forward, but he ignored her and turned his attention to the remaining officers.
"To your duties, men!"
"Please—!"
"Hush, girl. Beams!" Munro gestured at Uncas and Chingachgook, indicating that the Captain should remain to control the situation as Heyward and Ashton returned to his quarters.
At Beams's instruction, two guards started forward. Chingachgook tensed, ready to fight.
"No!"
Alice threw herself in front of the guard headed toward Uncas and shoved at his chest. He blinked down at her and looked to Beams for advice on how to handle the Colonel's daughter.
Beams barked out a "Sir!" before Munro closed the door.
"Oh, for God's sake—Alice, come here at once."
"Lt. Ashton provoked him,"—she took a deep breath, already laboring for air—"Chingachgook wasn't even involved!"
Munro's eyes flared, clearly not used to his authority being challenged. "Now, girl."
She hesitated and turned back to Uncas. He gave a small nod of assent, bewildered that she would look to him for permission after two direct commands from her own father—not that he had been an example of filial piety just now.
"Just the younger, Beams." Munro gave Uncas a hard look before the door shut between them.
As the guards divested him of his weapons, he met Chingachgook's eyes.
"Nshielìntàm, nux." I am sorry, father.
Once the door closed behind Alice, Papa held up a hand preemptively.
"Not now."
"But—"
"Silence!"
She flinched at the command but obeyed, eyes wide, and tried to maintain her breathing instead.
"Heyward, report!"
Duncan stood tall. "There was an exchange of words; the Mohican struck the first blow."
"That's right, he attacked me!"
"Winded him, I dare say." Duncan did not miss a beat in correcting the Lieutenant.
He sighed and rubbed his chin. "Blasted Mohicans. The lot belong in chains."
Alice stepped forward. "It's not his fault!"
To her surprise, Duncan came to her aid. "Sir, you should know—Lt. Ashton insulted your daughter most grievously."
The man in question gaped. "I didn't—"
A look from Papa made him go silent before addressing Duncan. "What was said?"
Apparently conscious of Alice standing behind them, Duncan stepped forward and spoke quietly in his ear. Though Alice could not hear them, knowledge of the insult flooded her with shame.
She watched in frightened awe as her father's face turned as red as his coat. He motioned to Duncan and Alice.
"You two, out." He pointed not to the door they had entered, but to the other that led inside. Alice knew at once that he was keeping her from Uncas.
"Papa—"
Duncan gripped her arm and guided her through the door, shutting it behind them. She looked up at her new ally imploringly.
He frowned at her and lowered his voice. "You see what comes of this? This could have been prevented."
Alice bit back a whimper and threw out all propriety to press her ear to the door. Duncan began to admonish her in a whisper, but she glared at him so magnificently that he seemed to think better of it.
"Those bloody savages tried to kill me!"
"You're an officer of the Crown—get ahold of yourself. If that man wanted you dead, you would be, and I'm beginning to think it no great loss."
"Sir!"
"How dare you speak such words to my daughter?"
Alice had never heard such a quiet, deadly tone in her father's voice before. It sent shivers up her spine.
"Sir. I regret my harsh language. It was poorly done, and not befitting a woman of her status, nor a man of mine. Yet it behooves me to inform you of oddities I have come to witness, beginning with Miss Alice speaking with a man on duty—distracting him—precisely as the militia left the fort."
Alice's heart raced. She looked back at Duncan, who raised his eyebrows in question. He had not heard them speak, to her relief.
"Now you accuse my youngest child of abetting desertion?"
"I certainly did not think much of it at the time, however, since then she has done nothing but cavort—"
"Finish that sentence, Lieutenant, and see if I don't have you cashiered!"
Alice held her breath. Her father had just threatened to have Ashton's commission stripped from him. He'd be sent back to England in disgrace.
"How strange that you were too incapacitated to alert the guard, yet managed to recall enough to implicate my daughter in such a grave manner."
"Sir! I mean no harm! And after my service to you—"
"You have been amply rewarded for what good you have done, yet you have naught but drown in your bottle since. I granted you leniency when it seemed necessary to aid your nerves, but now it muddles your reason. Your enemies were effectively destroyed, yet you still manage to foment discontent amongst our allies. I asked you before not to abuse them, Lieutenant. You've disobeyed me."
"Mohawks, sir—these are just Mohicans."
"Are you attempting to subvert the spirit of my order with a trifling detail?"
Finally, Ashton was wise enough not to answer.
"I'd expect the grandson of a duke to have learned an ounce of diplomacy. You ought to be flogged as a common soldier for such insolence. Seeing as you've been drubbed quite soundly by an Indian in front of the entire fort, I'll consider you well served. As it is, you've earned yourself a posting to the West Indies."
A moment's pause, then Ashton made a critical error. "My father—"
"Lord Ashton can't so much as thumb his nose at me from England! While you are in his Majesty's Army you are under my command until I see fit—which I no longer do. In the mean time, if I catch a whiff of alcohol on you, your service is ended entirely. Am I clear?"
Alice barely caught a "Yes, sir."
"Good. You may walk to Edward. My daughters will relieve you of your mare."
"Sir—"
"If you find yourself unable, then you may ride in the wagon with the other wounded. Dismissed!"
Alice smiled. Not only would it be a dishonor not to travel with the officers, but for him to be seen riding along with those who lost limbs or had other near fatal injuries would be an utter humiliation.
She turned to Duncan, who had a smile playing on his lips. He must have heard the louder parts of the conversation.
"That, my dear, is the King's justice at work."
Papa barked out their names. Alice entered the room timidly, but Ashton must have gone out the front door.
"Thank you, Heyward. See to it that the 33rd is assembled, and every soul has been accounted for in this fort."
"Sir." Duncan left, and they were alone.
In the silence that followed, Alice fought not to fidget under her father's gaze, and stared down at the ground.
"Alice."
She looked up at him, eyes wide.
"Do you have anything you wish to tell me?"
She blinked, the tone of the question making her quite sure that she didn't. Still, he pressed on.
"I must know. Have you been taken advantage of in any way?"
"No, Papa." Ashton certainly had attempted to extort her for alcohol, but he had been unsuccessful. Now that he was being punished, Alice saw no need to give credence to the fact she had aided the militia, and lied easily.
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely."
More silence. "Are you involved with that Mohican?"
A hesitation this time. "No..." Because she wasn't—not anymore.
Her father was not misled. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Have you been compromised?"
"Papa!" Shocked to hear him speak so, she blushed furiously.
He only raised his eyebrows.
"No." Her response was quiet but firm, despite the startling surge of regret at that truth. She kept that tamped down.
"Has he asked anything of you? Compelled you to speak to me on Mr. Poe's behalf?"
"Certainly not." She hurried on, wanting to put an end to this interrogation. "Uncas is a good man. Please don't punish him."
"It seems I am to be the vehicle for my daughters' unhappiness these days."
"He was defending me, he did nothing wrong!"
"He assaulted an officer in front of the entire fort. Do you think I'd simply allow such a disgraceful act occur under my command? Regardless, none of this would have occurred had he not made you the talk of the fort! Alice, truly, what were you thinking?"
Alice found she was unable to answer her father. Could she say that she found Uncas breathtaking? That she would never find another such as he? Papa would wish to hear neither.
"No, you simply weren't, were you? A Mohican?"
Her face went blank, but he continued on, unseeing.
"A family of anarchists! At least with the Mohawks we have formal agreements—some hierarchy at play, some respect."
She startled into a laugh, which in turn startled him into silence.
"You're not angry because he's an Indian?"
"If you mean: do I give a fig about the man's skin? That would make me a hypocrite indeed."
Alice hadn't even considered his first wife, but she should have. Of course her father, who had married a woman whose dark features and tight ringlet curls marked her as a mulatto to British society, would not be repulsed on that principal.
Meaning if Papa didn't care, things weren't so insurmountable between her and Uncas. "In which case... perhaps if it's of no consequence..."
"Absolutely not!"
Alice wilted.
"Now pay attention, girl. He cannot make a life for you. You cannot marry—not in God's eyes, and not by law. Furthermore, he is a trapper. He has no land, no prospects, nothing. Even were he Joseph Brandt himself, society would not accept you. Where would you live? You'd be on your own on the frontier. In these damned woods, Alice!"
"I don't know—I don't care!" But he was right; she hadn't thought of the future, only knew how good it felt when she was with Uncas. Her mind raced as he spoke, her breathing hitched, panicked at the mere thought of trying to survive in a wilderness ravaged by war. Images of the Camerons' dead bodies came to her unbidden. Of course she didn't want that—but she didn't know what else she did want besides the man who bore her anxiety with patience, who made her feel as safe as she ever could and more desired than she ever knew.
"Ha!"
With that, her father dismissed her hysteria for what it was. Belatedly, she realized her error in allowing herself to become so emotional. It was the surest way to lose an argument with her father.
"What has he promised you?"
"Nothing!" She spoke in earnest, willing Papa to believe it. But the truth of it made her heart ache. Just like that, her panic sapped away to be replaced by an aching melancholy. "He hasn't promised me anything."
Her father sighed. "Just so, my girl." He stepped forward and held her tightly in his arms. "Now, here's what you'll do. You'll get on that horse with your sister—"
She tried to pull away in protest.
"—directly. I don't want to hear any more talk. In time, we'll make the passage back home, and we'll put all this behind us. As we must."
The thought of leaving the continent sent her mind reeling. She had never felt such terror here, yet she had never felt such joy. "All three of us, back in England?"
"Scotland, I'd say. Winter at the estate, girl, how about it?"
How strange it would be for Papa to be home. Could they ever be a proper family again, or would their experience here only drive fractures between them?
"But, will you not be needed?" His career in the Army had always been a priority in his life, one that sometimes kept him away from his children for years at a time. Could he step away from his duties so easily?
"Can't say I'll be kept on after this." Alice could see how much the admission pained him. "Given Webb's penchant for self-preservation, I can't imagine I will. It's all been one bloody disgrace."
She should want this. Part of her did. And yet, there was that desire, that need to stay that made her want to kick and scream at anyone who would tear her away. How was that possible, when it was against all better judgment, including Uncas' own? It wasn't meant to be.
"But, we shall carry on. Beams!"
The captain entered. "Sir!"
"You are responsible for my daughters' conveyance to Edward. See that Alice is taken to Lt. Ashton's mare directly. Cora as well. Truss them to the saddle if you must."
"At once, sir." He proffered his arm to Alice. She stared at it hesitantly.
"Alice."
Confusion still churned within her as he gripped her arms.
"It will be all right, girl."
It was happening too fast. "Uncas?"
"Do not worry about him."
"If you hurt him..."
He nodded wearily. "Go now."
It wasn't an answer, but it was the best she would get. Uncas wouldn't be at risk for execution as his brother was, but if he suffered a physical punishment, her father would not know the end of her wrath.
Uncas tried his best to reach a state of calm as Ashton, Heyward, Alice, and Munro all disappeared inside. It wasn't until he heard Munro shouting, followed by Ashton's humiliated exit, that he began to harbor some hope for his own situation.
The Lieutenant stalked by without a word. Heyward soon followed, looking calm and collected. He gave Uncas a once-over but said nothing.
Uncas began to feel more at ease until he remembered that Alice now stood alone with her father, and that he was surely the topic of conversation.
Eventually she left on the arm of Captain Beams, who seemed determined to get her away with all haste. Uncas met her eyes for only a moment: worried and unsure. He hoped she read his silent apology for having created more chaos—yet he could not bring himself to truly regret putting Ashton in his place.
Munro emerged behind the pair. "Uncas. In here, now."
He looked to his father for permission, and was not surprised when it was he who stepped forward instead.
"I speak for my son."
"Not today, sir. But I do intend to speak with you shortly." To Uncas he said, "Come."
Chingachgook nodded to him reluctantly, a warning in his eye telling Uncas to be wary.
The guards were told to wait outside. They were hesitant to leave their leader with a violent Mohican, but Munro did not share their fear. A good sign. Once the two were alone, the Colonel walked briskly to a cabinet, then pulled out a bottle and two glasses.
"Brandy?"
Uncas hesitated as he glanced at the beams of light that filtered in from the early morning sun. He wondered what trick this was, wanted to keep his mind clear.
"No? It's all going to the French anyway." Munro poured a glass and stared off into the distance with a glower.
Deciding it may be best not to refuse the man's hospitality, Uncas acquiesced, if only to wet his lips with it. He was glad he kept to that, or else he would be choking after Munro's next words.
"Explain yourself."
"Sir?"
"You come into my fort, challenge my authority, damage the reputation of my youngest daughter, and assault my Lieutenant."
Uncas did not want to rehash the Camerons' deaths with this man. Instead, he latched onto one answer he was confident in giving him. "He insulted Alice."
Munro leveled a stare at him until he realized his mistake.
"Miss Munro... sir."
"And you thought it your duty to defend her honor?"
"I was there."
"And I was behind this door if you cared to inform me—the commanding officer of this fort, her father—instead. That is not how we do things here, young man. We keep order—though that seems to be a foreign concept to your family."
"He deserved worse."
"And he shall get it! What concerns me now is the cause of such rumors."
Clearly, Munro meant Uncas himself.
"My girl is taken with you."
Absurdly, Uncas wanted to argue this point as well. Alice wouldn't have run off last night if she truly cared; if she could see any worth in him beyond what others thought. He managed to hold his tongue.
"As her father, I would ask your intentions, but we both know this road does not lead to matrimony. So what then are you trying to accomplish?"
To be for her, what she is to me.
The last time Uncas had been in this room, Alice had been vulnerable and afraid, but captivating and at moments, even happy. And Uncas—he had been needed. He willed himself not to glance at the bed they had shared during the final bombardment, lest her father get the wrong idea—or at least, not one he wanted to convey.
"I mean her no harm."
"This has nothing to do with Nathaniel Poe?"
"No, sir." He sensed now was not the time to plead his brother's case.
"And when you came across my daughters, nearly defenseless on the George Road, am I to believe you had only their wellbeing at heart?"
"Yes, sir." He bit out his words, anger resurfacing despite himself. He wondered if Heyward, in his jealousy towards Nathaniel, had lied about that too.
"Hmm." The sound managed to be both contemplative and dismissive. "My daughters are very important to me, young man. I have no sons. When I'm dead and gone it is they who will carry my legacy, as well as that of their mothers. As such, I have given them only the best. They attended one of the finest schools the empire has to offer and socialize with some of the most influential people in London.
"Alice is young. She has many options available to her. I do not take kindly to any impediment that will bar her from future happiness, whether it be rumor or no."
Uncas was silent, the fight drained from him. On this, Munro was right. The Colonel seemed to notice this, because he lost the hostility in his voice.
"I recognize what you and your family have done for me. You have restored my daughters to me unharmed, and asked for little in return. You have cared enough to defend Alice's honor, however misguided the attempt. But that does not change what you are." Munro shook his head. "I couldn't care less what color my grandchildren will be. You will never be able to give my daughter the life she deserves. So, I ask of you, not to approach Alice again—nor to engage with her further should she do the same."
Uncas was silent, perplexed by Munro's change in demeanor. It did not last.
"You seem to be under the impression that this is a request. It is not. I shall rephrase: should I hear of anymore involvement between the two of you, I'll have the Highlanders use you for target practice. Are we understood?"
"Yes, sir." He understood.
Munro scrutinized him, but seemed to think his point was made, and strode to the door. Uncas took the opportunity to fling the brandy from his glass into a corner of the room. Not would discover it but the French, if they cared.
"You, sir! Chingachgook."
His father stepped inside and looked Uncas over. Satisfied at his condition, he stood by him.
"I'll get to the point. I believe Uncas ought to be tied to the cart's tail and whipped from here to Edward. Fortunately for him, I know that would only result in more speculation involving my daughter. Consider him pardoned, with a very strong warning."
Uncas and Chingachgook relaxed.
"Should you remain with us to accompany Mr. Poe, you will not find me so accommodating in the future."
Uncas exchanged a look with his father. Nathaniel would still be taken.
"Now, I assume you wish me to similarly grant Mr. Poe a reprieve. Allow me to correct you. There is nothing that will induce me to forego my duty to the Crown and release a seditionist. What's more, I now have two broken-hearted daughters who are of the opinion that they would trade lace for buckskins. No, sir, you shall curry no favors from me."
"There will be trouble. Indians will want what they were promised from the French. I will not have my white son defenseless."
"I do know how to keep order, sir." Munro drew himself up, a dangerous glint in his eye. "The French as well, for all their faults."
Chingachgook was unfazed. "Magua is a strong chief among them. He will not stop until Munro blood is spilled."
"That scout could be dead or miles from here for all we know."
"Miss Cora saw him herself, yesterday."
Munro paused at this. It was clearly news to him. However, he shook his head. "No matter. If he dares show his face, we will deal with him.
"Nathaniel Poe will remain in manacles for the duration of the journey. He will be surrounded by a guard for his protection." He leveled a stare at Chingachgook, an unspoken threat: do not try it. "As for your other son. The two of you may leave fully armed, and with the agreed upon powder—but I expect you'll keep your distance from my girls from now on, lest we come to any more misunderstandings."
Munro dismissed them, remaining behind to peer into his brandy. As they left to join the Mohawks, Uncas heard the sound of glass shattering on stone.
Alice sat atop the mare by the front gates. She felt like a pretender, held aloft above all others. Instead of swinging her right leg over, she kept it bent before her as though riding side saddle, wishing to preserve what modesty she had left.
"You'll have to ride astride to make room for your sister, miss."
"Thank you, Captain."
They would look a sight, crammed onto that horse, but Alice knew better than to complain. It was a small matter when almost all were forced to walk with some, like Nathaniel, in chains.
She turned towards her father's quarters, but still saw only Chingachgook waiting outside with the guards. What must he think of her—some sort of harpy to lure Uncas to his doom?
Perhaps she was. Alice could not deny the flare of desire that raced from the brief touch at her wrist before they were so rudely interrupted. At once, she had relived that need which had been stoked a little more each time they touched, that had plagued her sleepless night.
When Uncas told her they weren't to see one another again, her despair had given way to a strange clarity. Alice needed him to show her exactly what it was that she craved—because if they did not do something to quench that desire, she might burn for him always.
She knew she didn't have the courage to proposition him outright, despite her confidence regarding his attraction. She hoped when they were alone he would take the lead, and she could allow her passions to run unchecked. It would be simple, then. Whatever was asked of her, she would not say no. In the end they would part, as they must, but with minds clear and bodies sated.
Now, she would not feel him ever again. She would only be consumed.
Alice was still staring at the door; she forced herself to look away. Turning to see where Capt. Beams went off to, she found him trying to cajole her sister into leaving Nathaniel behind. Cora's arms were wrapped around him, though he could not return the gesture, as his were in manacles. Still, he seemed to be speaking words of comfort to her.
Alice glanced at her father's quarters again. No Chingachgook. He must be inside now, hearing what was to befall his son.
It was then she noticed the curious faces pointed her way. Lt. Ashton was among them, scowling, and she recalled that it was his mare she sat upon. Feeling heat rise to her cheeks, she quickly faced forward, silently chiding herself for her weak constitution. If anyone should feel embarrassment, surely it was him.
Yet she could not stop feeling the pressure of his eyes on her back, nor those of the others who looked upon her in speculation. She wished she could hide behind the accoutrements a woman of her standing should have—gloves, a cap, a hat to disappear beneath. No one would spread such rumors, if only she looked the part.
She stared at the mare's ears, twitching back and forth as it waited with more patience than she could manage. Once Cora joined her, Alice shifted back on the saddle and lowered her right leg down at last, carefully arranging her skirts. Her sister scrambled up and craned her neck to look back the moment she was seated.
Caught up in her own mind, it took Alice a moment to realize her sister was wiping tears from her eyes.
"Cora?"
She sniffed and responded in a miserable whisper. "He speaks as though we'll never see each other again."
Alice lowered her voice to the same whisper. "Uncas and Chingachgook are speaking with Papa at this very moment."
Cora whipped her head around and stared at their father's quarters.
"But... I do not think it will do much good, because Uncas struck Lt. Ashton down in front of everyone."
Cora's laugh startled Alice, who reluctantly smiled. She supposed it would be a more enjoyable notion in the future.
"Probably deserved it."
"Yes." At Cora's questioning look, Alice repeated the insult as quietly as she could.
"He said what?!" With that, Cora tensed to throw herself out of the saddle.
"No!" Alice squeezed Cora around her waist, pinning her down. "Please! No more trouble, not at my expense. Besides, Papa's punishing him most severely. And he's even given us his mare to ride."
"Oh?" Cora turned to face Capt. Beams. "What's this charming mount's name, Captain?"
"Royal Aster, I believe."
"I'll keep her. I think Nell suits rather better for a hack, don't you agree?"
Sounds of protest emanated behind them. Ashton must have paid a pretty penny for such a well bred horse, and may have had plans to continue the line. As Cora had surely predicted, he had heard and taken offense.
"Calm down, Lieutenant." Capt. Beams then turned forward and muttered. "I doubt you'll need her where you're going."
Alice squeezed Cora in gratitude before they both turned to watch the door again. Soon Uncas and Chingachgook strode out of her father's quarters, fully armed. Uncas's weapons had been returned to him. She brightened immediately and allowed sweet relief to wash over her. There would be no punishment; Uncas was free to go.
"Surely my eyes deceive me!"
She ignored Ashton, but her contentment ebbed away as she realized hat she was waiting for Uncas to turn and acknowledge her, to share in this one small victory. There would be none of that. What was she expecting? That he would pine for the rest of his days? He was the one who told her they couldn't be together. There was no future for them. She hadn't listened.
This was nothing, meant nothing. Everything they shared: nothing.
"They're going to stand with the Mohawks." Cora sounded heartbroken. "And Nathaniel's still in manacles."
Alice wished she could bring comfort to her sister, but found she wasn't up to the task. At least Cora could still find him at Edward, it wasn't as if he were going anywhere for now. But then Nathaniel himself believed that this was their final parting, as Uncas had implied the night before. How could that be? Nathaniel's trial would be in Albany, and the whole lot of them were going to Ft. Edward first—weren't they?
She recalled how a company of soldiers had so easily been slaughtered on the George Road by a war party, and how they had been overwhelmed in turn by three Mohicans. It may be possible for them to try something to liberate Nathaniel.
Alice leaned forward with a whisper. "You don't think they would..." she hesitated to say it aloud, with Capt. Beams astride his own horse nearby.
Cora shrugged helplessly as the call to attention sounded.
Alice twisted in the saddle, ignoring all onlookers as she glimpsed two Mohicans amongst the Mohawks. Uncas did not see her. Instead, he spoke to a laughing Sharitarish with a small smile of his own. She was struck by the difference in them, aside from appearance. Uncas was obviously more reserved, took matters more seriously. It was her own fear, perhaps, at the heart of the matter when she secretly questioned his intentions. She had never asked, and would never know.
It pained her to see such a beautiful soul and know his path may be diverging from hers forever.
She stared at Uncas so intently that it took realizing his father looked back at her to recall her concerns. Chingachgook met her frown with a firm resolution that told her there would be no veering from this course. Alice shrank from him.
She turned back to Cora and whispered, "But they could be shot."
"Better than being hanged, I suppose."
"Have you no care for—for his family?"
"Of course! Oh, but if it gives him a chance..."
They were soon interrupted. "Heads high, girls. For England."
Papa had trotted up to them on his horse, his final inspection of the fort complete. They gave him blank looks in turn.
The gates opened, the call to march sounded. Alice looked beyond Cora's shoulder as their horse started obediently forward after the standard bearers. She sucked in a breath. A hundred yards ahead of them, French soldiers, Indians, and Canadiens lined the road on both sides.
As Chingachgook made their farewells to Ongewesgone, Uncas and Sharitarish stood by waiting. Sharitarish seemed eager to talk but remained respectful of their elders, even if Ongewesgone was not his own chief.
"Mohawks know of your son's plight, but will not make trouble for our English fathers."
"I do not ask you to."
"We have no part in keeping their prisoners for them, should they escape."
"It is good." They clasped wrists.
"It is good. Go with speed, old friend."
Uncas soon found himself speaking Delaware to a grinning Sharitarish.
"Is it true? Did you force that officer to his knees?"
Uncas smiled grimly.
"Yet you walk free!"
"Munro wanted to punish him more than me." He still could have had Uncas flogged in his quarters, but had been lenient. Uncas wondered why, supposed he always would.
"You're lucky he didn't hear about his yellow-haired daughter then. Everyone else has."
Uncas grimaced. "Munro knew. Just didn't want her involved any further."
"Not luck, then. The Mohawks will tell tales of you: the true Sly Fox, last of the Mohicans!"
"Chitkwësi." Be quiet. Uncas meant it in a light-hearted manner, but it came out harshly.
Sharitarish didn't seem to take offense. "Not your fault, says Abigail. Yellow-hair made too much of a fuss taking care of you, then Dark-hair went to Hawkeye's cell to flirt every night. People looked for it then."
Uncas recalled how quickly Alice had cleaned and repaired his shirt, how diligently she made sure he and his family were fed. He caught himself before his smiled. "What of your laundress?"
Sharitarish smiled. "She will marry a soldier soon."
"She's promised to another?" His friend may be risking more than he knew.
"No. She has offers, needs the half-rations. Told her, choose a Ranger. Good warriors I respect."
Uncas didn't understand how the Yengeese seemed so unwilling to take care of any women they weren't married to. Indians always had a tribe to belong to, even if it was one made of three.
He thought of the kind of man Munro would want Alice to marry. Probably an officer like him. The thought made his blood boil.
Ahead of them, Chingachgook stepped off the path to wait at the base of the outer walls. Seeing this is were they parted, he and Sharitarish grasped wrists.
"If the hunting is bad in Can-tuck-ee, you are welcome to join us."
Uncas shook his head. "I want no more of this fight. It's not mine."
"You have spoken." Sharitarish neither agreed nor disagreed, simply acknowledged. He smiled and continued on.
Uncas stood by his father to wait for Nathaniel. Ahead, the enemy lined their path on either side. He was glad the French officers were here; without them, it would turn into a gauntlet.
Alice was easy to spot at the head of the column, her hair glinting like gold in the early morning sun. Cora kept turning around as if she looked for Nathaniel. Like a lovesick fool, Uncas wished that Alice would do the same for him. Instead, she looked timid and withdrawn, even at two hundred yards away.
Her day was about to get worse, as they would inevitably be harassed by Indians looking for more reward than what they could loot from the fort. Eventually, she could choose to forget it all upon her return to England: fear, blood, and death. Him.
That would be best. He willed it so.
In the mean time, he would have to trust that Munro and the other officers would keep her safe. She wasn't his to protect anymore. He just wished the back of that bowed head would not be the last he ever saw of her.
As they passed by the French, Alice stared at the ground, hoping she all but disappeared behind Cora and the waving flags. She was unable to meet the eyes of those who had been responsible for turning the fort into a living hell. Were there men among them that ravaged the frontier, murdering entire families of settlers? More still, that had driven their party to find refuge amongst the dead?
Behind her, Papa graciously bequeathed the fort to Montcalm, though she knew it ate away at him to do so. How could he carry such strength, and only manage to pass it on to his eldest daughter?
Alice held onto Cora in a fruitless attempt to borrow some of her resolve, knowing she couldn't expect to find solace when her sister was too preoccupied trying to catch one more glimpse of Nathaniel. Somehow Cora caught on to her trepidation, and reached down to take her hand.
"They won't hurt you."
"I know." She bent forward, chest aching. "It's just... everything."
After a moment, Alice realized that Cora had placed her hand on her thigh, where a lump of hard metal sat in her pocket. A pistol.
It did not make Alice feel better.
Notes:
- A HUGE thank you to BlueSaffire, who very generously beta read this chapter for me, and had only wonderful suggestions.
- Thank you to MohawkWoman as well, who helped me figure out the timeline for this part of the story (and following chapters).
- I took inspiration from the book for Col. Munro for much of this chapter. In it, he is more soft-hearted (though still capable of having Magua lashed). When Duncan asks him for Alice's hand in marriage, Col. Munro waxes poetic about his family and takes great offense when he believes (rightly) that Duncan thinks poorly of Cora's heritage. I wanted to see what a similar scene would be like for Uncas, who would obviously not be successful, but might receive some sympathy from Munro that would account for some leniency. In the book, Munro was similarly rejected by Alice Graham's father and went off the join the army, and had been in an interracial relationship himself.
- I did a ridiculous amount of research on martial punishments and found that lashings in the army at this time were often sentenced in increments of 100, though not always carried out to that number. Still, yikes.
- Music inspiration:
NFWMB by Hozier
Lost by Liza Anne