7.

By the time Tavington left Esther and Jason by their door, it was growing dark. He thought long and hard about everything she told him and everything he told her. He wished now there was some way to take it all back. Esther had brought a face to everything. Someone he now cared about deeply had suffered at the hands of men that were just like him. All the pain and misery he once caused was now pressing on him. Now it was his pain and misery and he had no idea how to handle the onslaught on conflicting emotions he felt.

As he continued down the path towards the creek, visions flashed through his head, troubling him. Pictures of the Martin boys, the expressions on their faces as they died by his hand played out along with the expression on Ben Martin's face when he held his son in his arms after Tavington shot him.

Tavington mocked him, telling Martin that the boy was stupid. But in truth he had been the one that was stupid. He shot the boy out of reflex when Thomas threw himself into a struggle for his brother's freedom. He knew it was a mistake the instant his pistol fired. However, instead of showing remorse, he showed apathy and indifference. That was who Jason had reminded him of...Thomas Martin.

The burning of the church at Pembroke came back to him. The look of fear on the faces of the villagers assaulted his memory. Wilkins was right to question his authority that day. There was no honor in what he'd ordered the Dragoon to do and he knew it. There was no justification in it either. He had done it to draw out Ben Martin and there was no justification for the deaths of so many people. He had done it out of greed for the things Cornwallis held over his head. It was as simple as that.

Those actions in turn caused Martin's men to seek him out within hours. And when the militia found him and his men camped out by a creek, they came with a vengeance. Although they were all killed, most of his men were killed in the attack as well, including his second in command Captain Marcus Bordon.

Bordon fought hard to defend himself as well as Tavington when Gabriel Martin stabbed the officer in the chest, killing him instantly. Tavington's mind ran through a lifetime of military training. Training that taught such losses were common, acceptable, and sometimes necessary. But his heart now wept at the pain he had caused those people. Knowing that his order to burn the church had spawned the attack only left Tavington feeling guilty for Bordon's death.

Tavington had been responsible for all of it. He understood that soon he would have to make a decision on the direction of his life. For so long he had been selfish and arrogant, putting his own needs and his duty to The Crown above all else. It had gotten him nowhere. He could no longer continue with such attitudes.

Tavington never noticed himself slogging through the creek- not even bothering to use the log bridge or step over the rocks- until he came to the other side. He looked up to find himself on a dusty road and wondered if he had gotten himself lost for a moment. The strange thing was, it was now daylight and he could have sworn it was well past sunset when he entered the woods.

The road seemed to call him on until he came to a strange village. Confused, Tavington trudged on, wondering exactly where he was. He thought everything looked strangely familiar but he couldn't pinpoint when or if he had ever been there before. He knew of no village near his land. Never mind the fact that he should have been home by now.

The village was oddly quiet with no sign of anyone around. There were taverns and inns but the normal businesses that occupied most of the villages and towns he'd frequented were absent.

Tavington made his way down the street past the edge of town to where the road forked off to a smaller path. At first, he thought to stay on the main road but something inside him drew him to the path. He continued walking and soon found himself on the edge of a great bluff that looked over a vast ocean.

There was no sound from the great waves that crashed on the rocks below. No birds chirping or even an ocean breeze. Just sun and the smell of salty sea air.

Tavington felt a presence behind him and turned to find a burly looking man standing a few yards away. He was smiling and at first glance Tavington hardly recognized him. And then it hit him….

"Bordon?" He questioned in a horse rasp. The man's smile widened into a grin.

"Hello, Colonel," Bordon said. "I've been waiting for you."

Tavington hesitantly walked towards his old friend, hardly believing who it was he was seeing. Captain Bordon waited patiently as Tavington looked him over in disbelief. Tavington was almost awestruck. He hadn't seen Bordon since the day he died. That had been over two years ago. But what was he doing here? And where the hell were they?

"I thought you were dead, Bordon," Tavington said.

"No one is really dead here, sir," Bordon replied in the rich voice that Tavington was so familiar with.

He reached out and touched Bordon on the shoulder as if he needed some type of confirmation that he was not imagining things. When his hand made contact with the sleeve of his friend's shirt, a strange chilling sensation crept its way up Tavington's arm, making his hair feel as though it stood on end. He jerked his hand away and Bordon chuckled.

"Am…I dead?" He asked.

Bordon laughed now. "Hardly," he answered.

"Am I dreaming?"

Bordon shrugged, "Are you?" Then Bordon turned and began to walk down the path Tavington had just come from. He glanced back over his shoulder and asked, "You coming or not?"

Tavington jogged to catch up to his friend calling after him, "What is this place?"

When he reached Bordon and the two were side by side, Bordon answered, "You're in Fiddler's Green, Tav old boy."

Tavington had once heard an old legend about a place called Fiddler's Green and he now racked his brain trying to remember what the legend said.

"Fiddler's Green where soldiers and sailors go when they die, is it not? A type of paradise for them?"

"Yes," Bordon answered as if surprised that his old commander remembered the tale. Then he smiled again. "We end up here because Heaven won't have us and Hell is afraid we'll take over."

"If I'm not dead, Bordon, then what am I doing here?"

"I called you here, Colonel," Bordon said. He slung his arm around Tavington's shoulder in a friendly gesture. Tavington shivered at the sensation it caused and Bordon threw his head back with laughter. "We have much to discuss, you and I."

Suddenly it was night again and they were standing in a clearing where a celebration of sorts was taking place. There was a huge bonfire and soldiers and sailors- some dressed in uniform, some not- were playing instruments, dancing and singing in merriment.

Bordon passed a pretty, young looking wench and took a jug of cider from her just as another appeared in her hand. He led Tavington over to an unoccupied spot and they sat on the ground in the warmth and light of the fire, resting their backs against a fallen log.

"All those years we served together Tav and not once have I ever seen you doubt yourself so much as you do now. Why? Why are you so conflicted about this love that you feel for the boy and his mother?" Bordon boldly asked.

Tavington had never known Bordon to be so blunt and at first it shocked him. He had to remind himself that whatever this was, it could not possibly be real and he was no longer Bordon's superior. However, he didn't know what to say.

"You do love her, don't you?" Another familiar voice asked and Tavington turned his head to see Corporal Gabriel Martin sitting right next to him. He jumped in surprise. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach and his mind reeled.

"Y..Yes," he gasped.

Gabriel and Bordon laughed and Bordon looked across Tavington saying to Gabriel, "I told you he'd damn near shit himself if you showed up."

Bordon passed the cider to Gabriel who took a swig and then handed it off to Tavington who absently took a swig for himself. He blinked and took another swig before saying to both men with rushing words, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I killed you, Corporal…. and I'm sorry for your brother and wife. I'm sorry that my actions got you killed Bordon. You were the closest thing I ever had to a best friend. I never wanted you to die protecting me."

"You were fighting for your life, Colonel. I meant to see you die that day," Gabriel explained. "But what's done is done and we can't change that. I harbor no resentment towards you now. It's not like that here. Those things are all forgotten."

"What matters now, sir," Bordon broke in, "Is that you make it right. You love this woman and you love her son. You know an injustice has been done to both of them. Make it right... for us."

"Yes….yes, I'll make things right for them," Tavington agreed with a nod. He didn't know how he would accomplish that, but he felt a new determination brewing inside his very soul.

Another man then walked up. Although Tavington never knew his name, he recognized him as a Continental he had once slain in battle. He looked well- they all looked well. Looking down at Tavington he said, "There's a reason you survived Cowpens, you know? You were given a second chance to live for a reason. The card game, Ohio, all of it was for a reason. Nothing is ever left to chance."

A fifth joined them and said, "Everyone here was in your life for that reason, just as I was. Just as you are in Esther and Jason's life now. Someone has plans for you William. It's up to you to discover what that reason might be. But now…. it's time to go."

Tavington stood to follow the fifth man, but then stopped to protest. "Wait…there are so many things I want to ask….so many things I need to say…"

"Now is not the time, William. You don't belong here yet. It's time to go," the man said as he led him away.

William turned around to bid farewell to his friends. They were all friends now he supposed. Fellow soldiers, brothers in arms. It didn't matter what side they fought for anymore. But when he looked back, they were gone.

The remaining soldier led him back to the fork in the road and explained that this was where he must leave him. It dawned on Tavington now who this man was. A much younger, robust version of Clifton Mitchel.

"Mr. Mitchel?" Tavington said in astonishment. "But…you're not dead."

His guide smiled gently at him and squeezed his arm, once again sending a chill through his spine. He gave Tavington a look that almost spoke of regret and said, "It's time to go now."

Tavington flinched at those final words and found himself sitting at his own table. An uneasiness settled over him and his dark cabin possessed an eerie silence.

He pulled out his pocket watch. It was well past three in the morning. And although his heart told him something wasn't right, Tavington dropped on his bed and slept.

Half way down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green.
Are the souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old time canteen.
And this eternal resting place,
Is known as Fiddlers' Green.

Marching past straight through to Hell,
The Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by Engineers,
Artillery and Marines.
For none but shades of the Cavalrymen,
Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.

Though some go curving down the trail,
To seek a warmer scene.
No Trooper ever gets to Hell,
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so goes back to drink again,
With friends again at Fiddlers' Green.

And so when man and horse go down,
Beneath a saber keen.
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee,
You stop a bullet clean.
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head,
And go to Fiddlers' Green.

So there you go...And I'm sorry if it seems as though I've left you with a cliffie. You all know you love me and the wait will be worth it!