Chapter 14
Since Kristina was sure nothing would happen in the course of a few days, she figured out that Benjamin most likely wanted her to stay with his family for awhile. She did not mind at all. The Martin children were vibrant beings full of stories and tales. They craved adventure and loved hearing Kristina talk about the outside world. She got along with Meg the most, as Kristina explained to Meg the utterly useless boarding school she attended in London.
"I was horrible at everything; pottery, knitting, etiquette. I do however miss Ms. Finch's class- dance. In the beginning I had two left feet, but by the end of my first season there I was one of the best dancers."
Meg's eyes lit up. "I wish I knew how to dance. It sounds lovely."
Kristina, with a glint of excitement escaping her smile, stood up and took Meg's hands into her own. Meg was dumbfounded a moment, then slid away. "Oh, no no no. There's not even music playing."
"Well what will happen when you see that Patrick fellow again?" Meg's cheeks turned a deep rose. "That's what I thought. Now come on, don't be a bugger. I'll be the man. Place your right hand with mine, and your left hand on my shoulder. Now, move your left foot back and your right forward a bit- no, see that's my foot your stepping on, dear- there's a girl, now I'll lead. One two three, one two three. Don't forget to look up. See? We're gliding across the ballroom. Your quite a natural!" Meg's laughter could be heard throughout the field, and her brothers and sister heard and took a look.
"Nathan!" Kristina called. He ran up to her.
"Be the man." He started dancing with his sister and awkwardly counted as they danced. Kristina laughed, and Samuel took Susan's hand the two began to try and follow their sibling's footsteps. William tugged on Kris, and she danced with him, counting along with the other children until the numbers became a song itself. "One two three, one two three, one two three, one." After more giggles and gliding, Samuel tripped over Susan's feet and the two crashed unto the floor, sending the rest into more hysteric fits of laughter.
She had now stayed at the Martin's hideout for a week, and she feared she had to return. She craved news of the war, news of Evan and Gabriel. She decided to stay one last night.
After the delicious dinner of soup and apple pie (Abigail's specialty), she broke the news to the children.
"When will you come back?" Samuel questioned. It then struck her that she may never be back, she had simply delivered a message from her superior officer. She put on a smile.
"Hard to say. These are uncertain times. But I'm sure it would please your father and brother greatly if I sent back letters from you all to them." And so the children spent the next hour helping each other write notes to their family. The sun was once more setting across the ocean, the peaceful sound of waves splashing against the sand. It was hard to believe a war raged on a few miles down. Everything here seemed so untouched, unscarred.
Charlotte approached her. "After you give the letters to Benjamin, you could come back and stay here, you know. The children adore you, and since your exposed as a spy there's nothing left for you to do."
Kris sighed. "In a way I wish I could. I pray I do return to this peaceful state. But your wrong. There is plenty still to be done, and plenty still to do even for a girl like me. The war is not over, and I still have strength left in me to see to it that the right side wins."
"I wish I had your courage," Charlotte stated, looking across the ocean.
Kristina looked up at the older woman in confusion. "Look at you! Your protecting Benjamin Martin's children, your keeping spirits alive, your making sure your family is not harmed by war. Your keeping silent about your love and fear for your sister's husband to be strong for the children." She was taken aback that this girl knew about her love.
"Your always welcome with our family, Kristina."
Kris left early the next morning, kissing the top of every child's head and hugging them. Even Susan got misty eyed. Kris stuffed the letters into her bag and galloped across the bridge and out of sight.
Already she missed it. They seemed the perfect family, loving and caring and fun. Everything a family should be. Both my parents are dead, she thought. Well, at least I'm glad father is. Six hours into her ride she heard voices and urged her horse forward. Oh no, the Continentals are moving again. When the men were in sight, she pulled back so fast on the reigns her horse reared and she fought to keep on. Redcoats! The spook of the horse had caught their attention. Calming him down quickly, she turned him around and tried to head west, away from both the Redcoats and away from the hidden Martins. A shot fired and hit the tree to her right. They must have noticed her Continental jacket. Stupid girl! She shouted at herself, urging the horse faster.
More shots rang out, but all of a sudden what was going on behind her didn't matter anymore. Ahead about 20 yards were 10 British soldiers, aiming their muskets straight at her. She slowed her horse and halted. She could not win this fight. Raising her hands in the air, they moved toward her.
"What's this now, ay? A girl in a Continental uniform?" An arm yanked her off and she fell to the ground, her face hitting the mud.
Another soldier leafed through her bag. "Letters addressed to Benjamin Martin, sir." He handed the officer who was talking the letters.
"I see. A messenger. What is your name?"
"Millicent Bowman."
Two hands lifted her to her feet, her arms being held behind her back. "Miss Bowman, you are under arrest for treason against his royal highness, King George the Third. If you tell us everything, your punishment will be less severe."
I could make up a story. Tell them I stole it from a dead soldier, she thought. Seeing the guns pointed at her, the writhing faces grinning, she cringed. That's what they expect from a girl.
"I am no traitor. I never swore allegiance with that bloody tyrant!" A hand swept across her face. Stinging in pain, she shut up, and they tied her hands to a rope and started walking her back to the rest of their troop.
***** Continental Army*****
"Ah, Gabriel, your back!" The father and son embraced, and soon business was attended to.
However, the conversation soon turned to a certain woman. "Where is Miss Warwick anyway? Usually I could hear her nagging voice miles away."
"I sent her to the family for a few days, she should be back any day now." Gabriel's eyes lit at the notion of his siblings.
"God it would be nice to see them all again."
"Yes, well, I figure she's our safest bet to send news. Plus, I hate to say it, but she was running our camp ragged from her boredom. I had to do something."
To this Gabriel laughed. "I'm glad I missed that. Probably would have driven me insane."
Suddenly Benjamin's eyes became serious, and he drank from his canteen. "Tis a good thing for a woman to have that ability over a man sometimes. Charlotte says it keeps the man in check."
Gabriel followed his father in drinking the water. "Yes well, it's annoying all the same."
Benjamin put the canteen down and folded his hands. "You know, after your mother died it took me a long time to get over it. A long time. But once I fond that peace, life went on. I know you don't like to talk about it, but sometimes talking is a very good medicine."
Gabriel nodded, his head looking at the dirt on the ground. "I have buried my thoughts for some time now. It's been a year you know, yet still my first thought is of her when I wake up, and she's the last thing I think of when I sleep. Will it always be this way?"
The elder Martin could only nod his head.
Gabriel continued. "Father….how do you know, when its right to move on? For…for Anne's sake."
His eyebrow lifts, and a smirk soon follows. "Your not talking about that insane spy girl now are you?"
Gabriel shared in his father's smile. "Whether it be Miss Warwick or anyone. The question was actually quite broad."
"Indeed. Well, my boy, there is no clear answer to that. You'll always have Anne in your heart, but there is room for others. When the right time arrives, you'll know."
Gabriel sighed heavily. "I'll know," he repeated to himself in a whisper.
*************
The walk was long and terrible. Her feet ached, her wrists burned from twisting at the ropes, and they never once stopped to give her water.
"I should at least be treated like a lady!" she shouted at one point. That idea was erased the moment an unknown hand crept its way across her body. Perverts, she screamed inside. Hours rolled by and still they did not stop. She licked her cracked lips and gulped her dry throat as she watched them drink their water. She hadn't tried talking for awhile, perhaps she'd try again. No doubt it would give her another beating, but her mouth was rarely silenced.
"I believe if you want me alive before your court I will require some sort of sustenance." No beating came. Instead, the captain rolled his eyes and unlatched a canteen from his horse's saddle.
"That's all ye git, so I'd drink slowly, Miss Bowman." The flat warm water tasted heavenly against her lips, and she struggled to take small sips. Her stomach growled, and she heard one of the soldiers smirk.
"Are we far from the rest of your troop?"
"Bloody hell you think we'd tell you! That's enough from your purtty trap for one day." He tugged on her rope harder. I highly doubt this is how all colonial prisoners are treated, she contemplated. With the exception of Colonel Tavington, her father, and obviously this brute. "If this kind of conduct is true of all prisoners of war I think I shall write your General a very nasty letter." The only reply she got was a harder tug of the ropes, her wrists now dripping blood.
By the time night had once more twisted its way into the sky, Kristina looked a sight. Her hair unraveled, her clothes dirty as the dickens, her face bruised and swelling, her wrists scarring, her cracked lips bleeding. Well, guess I can't use my charming looks to get me out of this one.
They had arrived at a British outpost. Her ropes were untied as they put her in some sort of large cage. A few other men shared it, none she recognized, all looking scared and undernourished. She tried twisting her wrists but found it too painful.
"When is my trial? I have a right to one" she boldly asked.
"Trial…o yes, that. You will be hanged one week from tomorrow, along with these other treasonous vermin. That is your trial. Have a nice one, love." With that, the fat officer walked away, his minions laughing.
It hurt so much to try and sit, but once she accomplished that, she leaned against the wooden bars and sighed.
"Now what's a lass like yerself mixed up in this business?" A clear Irishman spoke.
Afraid it would cause to much pain in her neck to turn, she simply looked on to world beyond the outpost. "You'd think I'd remember right now, wouldn't you?"
He guffawed quietly. "A British lass, even more interesting. A tale such as yours must be quite long."
Intrigued, she turned to face him. The Irishman looked to be in his 60's, frail with long gray hair waving down to his shoulders. His Continental uniform was faded and torn. Yet something sparkled in his eyes. The same foolish spark of hope that lived in many of these colonists' eyes.
"I could say the same for you. What part of Ireland do you hail from?"
"The great city of Dublin, my dear. Fine country."
"All I remember is fog and green." To this he laughed, this time a little louder. Luckily the guard did not come by.
"That it is, lass, that it is. I miss my country. Came here in '73, I did. Bad luck for me, I guesses. I figures I might as well join this army rather than face the consequences of being called a Tory. Plus, we hated that tyrant back in my land anyway. What's your story, eh?"
Two guards stood nearby. A prisoner across from her raised his eyebrow. No, it was not safe to tell the truth. Too many ears were close. If word leaked that she was Kristina Doyle, the spy who's father they had served, the consequences would be harsher. They would know she was close with the Martins, and they could leak larger information from her. As Millicent Bowman, she could pretend to be a one time messenger delivering to Mr. Martin letters from his kids. After all, she missed lying.
"I was only carrying letters from children to some officer in the Continentals….."