Chapter 83 A Reckoning
August 1783…..
Melanie Tavington stood on the veranda of her home, shaded from the midday sun. And although she was cool in the refuge from the summer heat, she still simmered. She bit down hard on her tongue and tried not to appear hostile as she crossed her arms. She watched as the servants loaded the goat cart on the lane with picnic items and her children, something she would have ordinarily helped with.
Her hand dropped to her middle, absently rubbing her hand over her rounded belly, now well into the sixth month of her pregnancy. For the last three months, ever since she had informed William, she had barely been let to do anything, save for occasionally lifting the twins when they cried. Melanie was sure that her husband had conspired with the plantation's servants to keep her as idle as possible, not letting her exert her person at all during this time. The young wife missed her long walks and vigorous horseback rides around the plantation. She longed to help out in the orchards and fields as she did when she was young but found herself conspiratorially and suspiciously "confined" to an easy life in the coolness of the mansion.
Mrs. Tavington heaved an audible sigh. Not today—they weren't going to stop her today. She had promised William that she and the children would bring a picnic lunch down to him today and nothing was going to detour this. Besides, she thought that her husband already worked hard enough for the family business as it was and some days he was so busy that it wasn't much that they got to spend time with the man. A meal with him was the perfect excuse to spend time and give him a bit of a break.
"Oomph," she exclaimed with a gasp as a hard kick from the baby within her drew her from her musings. It was by another randy kick, leaving Melanie with a funny, yet wondrous look on her face for all to see.
"Something wrong, Mrs. Tavington?" asked Mrs. Sloane.
Melanie shook her head with a light chuckle. "The baby is kicking hard."
"And you want to take a long walk out to the mill in this blazing sun?" the head of the servants asked in a scolding and clearly disapproving tone.
"Nonsense," the plantation mistress retorted. "I appreciate the concern, Mrs. Sloane, but I'll be fine. The walk will do me well. I promised the General that we'd bring a picnic to him today."
"I can easily have a meal sent down to the master," Mrs. Sloane reminded.
"Yes, I know," answered Melanie, "But if you do, he'll just work through it. He works hard enough as it is. This is a good way to get him to stop for a bit and spend time with us."
"But Ma'am," Sloane protested, "The heat today, and you're condition."
"We'll be in the shade," Mrs. Tavington tried to allay the servant's fears. "I'll be fine, really."
Within minutes, they were ready to go. Melanie took the long reins of the goat and clicked her tongue for the beast to walk forward. As they strolled along, the children babbled on until their mother recognized some of their words.
"Lamb, Mommy?"
"Lammie?"
A new lamb had been born recently and the children loved holding and playing with it. The baby sheep was penned in the barn with its mother, the building not on the path they were currently walking. Melanie knew, though, what the twins wanted.
"Yes darlings," she answered, "We can visit the lamb later. Mama will take you after we have lunch with papa."
As they walked along toward the mill, Mrs. Tavington's thoughts carried her away momentarily. She recalled this morning and how sick she was. It awoke her at five, and she ran to the chamber pot to puke. The commotion had awoken William, and concerned, he stayed awake until she was done. He didn't have to be up until seven. Once back in bed, he'd wrapped her back in his arms, holding her close. His hand caressed her belly, feeling how active the baby was this morning. She closed her eyes and smiled as she remembered the sweetness and safety of being in his arms.
Then she recollected the evening before, when they'd gone to bed. Her smile turned to a blush. The couple had gone to bed exhausted, only to arise refreshed a couple of hours later, and ready to make love. She grinned as she remembered William taking her from behind with her on her hands and knees. Their lovemaking had soon become so amorous and rowdy that she had to hold onto the foot board of the bed lest he send her off the other side of it with his thrusting. She chuckled to herself, blushing furiously again as she recalled how they came together, collapsing on one another onto the bed.
The twins calling her brought her from her reverie. "Mommy. Go!"
Melanie smiled as she looked at Mary, pointing at the goat. "Yes angel. That's a goat."
She and William marveled everyday at the children's growing vocabulary and recognition of everyday objects and the ability to name them.
"Mama. Backet!" Will said, pointing at the whicker hamper full of food in the cart.
"Yes, darling," she assured. "That's a basket."
Mrs. Tavington looked ahead and saw that they were nearing the glade by the mill in which the family could have a semi-secluded picnic. She led the goat along a few more yards until they entered the clearing.
"We're here, children," Melanie announced. She quickly picked out a tree that was near the forest line that would afford them a good amount of shade. The woman spied another tree nearby and led the goat and cart to it, tying the beast to it. She spread a blanket out on the ground, then lifted each child out of the cart and placed them on the coverlet. Then she retrieved the twins' Noah's Ark toy from the cart, opening it and dumping the animals onto the blanket. Instantly, Mary and Will began to play with it.
As the children played, Melanie looked about the clearing and noticed the old turkey pen, ramshackle and near falling down, over to the side of the glade. She recollected how the last hurricane years ago blew over the old henhouse next to the thing, but the pen stayed standing. She had wanted to tear the thing down, but the male servants of the estate talked about how they still used the old thing sometimes to pen turkeys and other fowl. As she surveyed the old pen again, she made a mental note to speak to William again about having it torn down.
"Stay here, children, and play nice," she instructed the twins, who played away with their ark. "I'm going to get tell papa we're here."
With that, she walked along, past the copse of trees that obscured the glade from total view of the mill. She absently carried another blanket still in her arms, having forgot to put it down near the other one that the children now played on. Once inside the mill, she tapped her husband on the shoulder, knowing her wouldn't hear her above the din of the machinery. The man busily poured a bag of corn into the mill.
"We brought lunch," she said, smiling demurely up at him.
"I'm in the middle of a task," he replied, "I'll join you in a few moments."
Melanie smiled and nodded, then started toward the door. But before she could walk through it, a strong hand pulled her backwards. She soon found herself in William's embrace, his lips on hers. As he gave her a deep kiss, his hand dropped below her waist and kneaded her round bottom.
She pulled away from him reluctantly. "Will," she protested half heartedly, "the children."
"They should see how much I love their mother," he said, his mouth trailing kisses on her neck.
"Yes, William," she agreed, pushing away from him. "But I need to get back to them. They're playing out there."
Tavington gave her a playful smack on her ass as he watched her exit. "I'll be there in a few minutes," he called after her.
Melanie trotted out of the mill and back toward the clearing where she'd set up the picnic and left the twins. Nearing the copse of trees, she smiled as she heard the goat bleating and the children's laughter. As she rounded the corner and the glade came into view, she suddenly stopped in her tracks, frozen and unable to move. The blanket she held in her arms fell to the ground as she unconsciously let it drop. She immediately began to tremble at the sight before her, tears wetting her eyes.
Benjamin Martin, the former militia colonel now in the throes of insanity caused by Syphilis, stood next to the old poultry pen. He had the twins lock up in the old thing, where they played happily with the lamb they loved. They didn't seem the least bit afraid of the man guarding the pen. Melanie's frantic mind could only surmise that he must have used the baby sheep to lure Mary and Will into the cage. Mrs. Tavington could only mutely wonder how long he'd been on the property and that he must have been watching them.
Her mind spun wildly out of control at the thought of just how quickly Martin had lured the twins into his trap, for she was gone but less than two minutes. She wanted to break down into tears, feeling this her fault. After all, she'd left them alone; they were out of her sight.
"Ah, Mrs. Tavington," Martin greeted in a taunting tone, "You really shouldn't leave your children alone."
Melanie, still too terrified to move, raised her hand slightly. "No…don't," she stammered, her voice breaking, "Please don't—"
"Don't hurt your children?" the colonel answered, finishing her sentence for her. "Why don't you come over here and join the picnic."
Mrs. Tavington hesitated a moment. The girl wasn't sure what to do, afraid that anything she did would jeopardize her children. Her head swayed and she suddenly felt faint. But she willed herself to stay upright, afraid to pass out with Martin so close to her children. Her hand dropped to her belly, rubbing it, as if protecting the child living within it. She took a deep breath in an attempt to stave off the vertigo.
"Come here, Mrs. Tavington," Martin growled in an insistent and intimidating voice. Then he trained his pistol on the children and cocked it. This drew the woman immediately from her stupor.
She finally broke down and began to cry. The girl hurried toward the pen, her hand out to Benjamin Martin. "No! Please! Don't!" she begged. As she neared the pen, the twins looked up at her and she was suddenly aware that they weren't afraid, not understanding what was going on. She wanted them to stay calm, at least in an effort to keep Colonel Martin at ease, lest he shoot immediately any fussy children.
Melanie Tavington forced a smile as she looked down at her beloved twins. "Mama," they chirped happily, grinning up at their mama. "Lammie!"
"Yes darlings!", their mother replied, trying to steady her own voice. "Will, Mary, mommy's here. You're fine."
In one fluid move not even noticed by the twins, Martin reached for Melanie, taking her elbow securely in his hand. He led her down the side of the ramshackle pen, about ten feet away from where the twins played. She didn't fight him, and her gaze stayed on the children even as he pulled her away from them. The young woman was not about to risk herself, the unborn child within, or the twins by resisting the militia colonel's demands.
At the other end of the old pen, the former militia man lashed her wrists together in front of her, then tied her bound hands to the wires of the pen, carefully fishing it through the openings and anchoring securely so that the woman couldn't run. He then took his knife and placed the blade just under Mrs. Tavington's chin against the skin, teasing her again.
"Looks like the butcher is going to have another child," he drawled. Melanie shivered, then held her breath as he put a bit more pressure on the weapon. The poor woman let her breath out when Martin took the blade away from her throat.
After another tense moment, Melanie looked up to see her husband rounding the corner of the small grove of trees. She shot him a horrified look that silently pleaded for help. But tears of guilt ran down her cheeks, conveying that she was sorry—she felt that this was her fault for leaving the children.
When Benjamin saw General Tavington, he roughly grabbed Melanie's hair and pulled her head backwards. He brought the knife back up to the girl's throat, never taking his eyes off the Carolina Butcher.
William stopped in his tracks, taken aback at the unexpected sight of Benjamin Martin holding his family. The brave Tavington, who had been afraid of little in his life, was now deathly frightened inside that the insane militia man would harm his family. Yet his blood boiled that the man dared to do this.
The former redcoat officer cursed himself, realizing he'd left his coat and pistol in the mill's office. All he had was a small knife concealed in his boot.
Martin, still holding Melanie in a precarious position, looked pleased that he had the entire Tavington family at bay now.
"Tavington! I finally have you and your whole family together!"
"What do you want, Martin?"
"You and your family dead!" Martin declared.
"Your quarrel is with me," Tavington growled.
"Yes," answered Ben, "But your family must be used to get to you."
"I'll trade myself for them," William offered, "I'm unarmed. You would have the advantage over me. Let them go."
"No!" Benjamin Martin spat. "You're going to see them die first before you go."
"No," Melanie sobbed.
"Don't you hurt my family!" Tavington screamed, not caring if his rage showed now.
"I'm going to kill your children first," Martin announced as he took the blade from Mrs. Tavington's throat, yet still held a fistful of her hair. He brought the dagger down to Melanie's rounded belly and dragged the blade across it, dangerously close to cutting through her clothes.
"Then I'm going to cut the child from your wife's womb and kill it," snarled Martin ominously. "If Mrs. Tavington lives through that, then I'll finish her off. You're last! You get to watch them all die."
William had seen enough. He risked making a move now. He had to get to his family. The general took a cautious yet insistent step toward them.
"Stop there," Ben warned, "Don't take another step."
"I'm not going to stand here and let you hurt my family!" William shot back.
After another tense moment of trading intent stares with Martin, Tavington suddenly lunged forward. At that, Martin grabbed Melanie's elbow and jerked her back hard. Then his hand covered her mouth as his other hand drove the knife hard into her thigh.
Melanie screamed behind his hand, her eyes and face betraying the horrible pain she felt though the sound was muffled. The young woman saw stars and immediately felt her legs give out, as if she would faint. Martin held her limp body up for a moment, then stepped back from the girl.
Mrs. Tavington whimpered through gritted teeth, her knuckles turning white as her fingers held tightly to the fence. She willed herself to stay conscious.
Seeing his wife get stabbed had stopped Tavington dead in his tracks again, not wanting to cause any of his family members any more pain. He shot Melanie a sincere look of sorrow, regretting that he'd been the cause of Martin hurting her. Though she had pain on her face, she returned the look with a gaze of longing and love for him, thinking it may be her last.
William was desperate now, unsure of what to do. He had taken the chance of trying to run at Martin and the man had hurt his wife. Again he wished for his weapons, sure enough of his shot that he could kill or maim the militia colonel enough to be able to get to his family.
Tavington's eyes darted to his children, playing happily away in the locked pen with the lamb, oblivious to the danger they were in. This his eyes locked again with his wife's tear filled eyes, giving him the most desperate look he had ever seen.
Then, out of the side of the general's eye, he thought he saw a flash of white in the tree line across the lane. He knew that Martin was watching his every move from muscle to eyes, so William knew he would not be able to gaze long in that direction without it looking obvious.
Tavington moved his eyes naturally, but quickly to his right, enough to focus but not long enough to linger.
The white flash that William had seen was of Jim Wilkins' shirt sleeve. Tavington felt momentarily relieved as he remembered that his former fellow dragoon officer was coming by this afternoon on business. He'd received the message that morning.
Tavington glanced again that direction, long enough to see Wilkins darting and sneaking through the trees and brush. By his moves, William could tell that James had seen what was going on and jumped into action to help. The general prayed silently that his friend and neighbor would hurry and make a move.
"Well, Tavington," said Martin as he stepped back a little from Melanie, "It's time for you to have a share of the pain that you visited on my family." With that, Benjamin pulled his pistol, raised it slowly to make a show of it, then aimed it at little Mary Tavington, still in the pen.
Melanie shook her head and wept hard. "No! God no! Mary!"
BANG!
A loud shot rang out, startling all that were near. A small cloud of blood hung for an instant in the air as blood sprayed from Benjamin Martin's hand as the bullet tore through it. As it did it knocked the gun from his hand, the weapon landing on the ground a few feet from him. The militia colonel grabbed his hand and fell to the ground, yelping in pain.
Instantly Jim and William sprang into action. William ran a few steps then dove onto the ground quickly grabbing up the pistol that had been knocked from Martin's hand. Equally as fast, Wilkins dashed from the woods and into the glade, pulling his saber as he ran. William aimed the gun at Martin, who was struggling back to his feet.
James, now at the fence, sliced through Melanie's bonds, freeing her. "Take the children and run!" he yelled at Mrs. Tavington.
And though her thigh was bleeding profusely and burning in pain, Melanie limped as best as she could to the gate of the pen. She opened it, grabbed the lamb up from the ground, knowing that taking the animal would entice the twins to chase her to safety.
"Come! Will! Mary! Chase mama and lammie!" she shouted. And so they fled, not stopping until they made it into the mill office. Once in there, she released the baby sheep onto the floor where the twins seated themselves and played with it. Then she promptly collapsed in pain onto the floor, pulling herself by her arms over to the wall. The young wife and mother pushed herself up to sitting, propping her body up against the wall, watching her children. Again she fought to stay conscious.
Outside in the clearing, Martin was trying to get back to his feet. Now outnumbered, the militia colonel wanted to flee for now hoping to fight another day.
Wilkins through a bag of load to Tavington, who quickly loaded the pistol from where he was on the ground. He aimed at the fleeing Martin.
BANG! Another shot rang out. Tavington shot Benjamin in the thigh, effectively dropping the man's body to the ground. But even then, the man still tried to get back to his feet to run.
As the prostrate man was struggling to get up, Wilkins stepped near him, raised his sword, and drilled the point through the colonel's shoulder, pinning him to the ground firmly like a collected and displayed insect.
William quickly got to his own feet and loaded the pistol a second time. Both Tavington and Jim, so tall, moved in to look down on their enemy, who had caused so much trouble for both of them in war time and peace. They looked on as the man lay helpless at their feet.
Tavington raised the pistol, ready to execute the man that had ended his cavalry career and threatened his family, but James reached out and stayed his wrist. A puzzled William looked at his neighbor.
"I have something to say," Jim said simply. With that, James Wilkins bent his tall frame down to where he leaned in over Martin.
Ben, grunting with pain and teeth gritted, looked up at the man.
"I have a confession," Wilkins began, looking into the prostrate colonel's eyes. "When you told Elizabeth of what you did at Fort Wilderness, and then the two of you were estranged for months, she came to me for solace. I was happy to oblige her.:
"Bastard!" Martin spat through gritted teeth.
Wilkins smiled an evil smile. "And when John Selton died, Charlotte sought comfort from me, as well."
"Damn you!" Benjamin whispered.
"It was a real pleasure to have had both of your wives in my bed," Wilkins taunted.
As he raised his body back up to its full, impressive height, Tavington was looking at his friend with stunned and rounded eyes.
"Wilkins! You scoundrel!" he jeered. Tavington had been told by Wilkins about how his family and the Putnam family were friends, and that he had liked both Charlotte and Elizabeth, local beauties, as he was growing up. However, both fathers had died young, and the two families grew apart after their deaths.
"I always hoped his wives would have told him," James said. "As a gentleman, I've been discreet about this all these years. Bridget doesn't know."
"Your secret is safe with me," William assured.
Tavington reached over and pulled the sabre out of Martin's should, eliciting a pained groan from the former militia colonel. Jim instantly put his booted foot onto Benjamin's injured shoulder to hold him steady.
William, without hesitation, plunged the sword into Martin's chest, running it through his heart. Blood oozed out quickly as there was a last gasp of air from Colonel Benjamin Martin. Then, his eyes closed.
Wilkins and Tavington stood stock still over the man, wanting to make sure he was dead, yet unable to believe it. After another moment, James broke the silence.
"I know where we can dispose of him," he said with Tavington's full attention. "There's a dark swamp between here and Camden, not well known."
"We can weight his body down," William chimed in, "No one will ever find him."
"Right! Check on your family," instructed Jim, "and I'll do something with him for the time being."
With that, Will ran toward the mill to see to Melanie and the twins. As he did, Jim to hold of the dead Martin's arms and dragged his body into a clump of bushes, hiding it there.
Once at the mill, William was relieved to see his children playing blissfully with the lamb, and unharmed. But he was worried when he saw his wife, white as a sheet, slumped against a wall. The general knelt down at her side, touching her cheek with his hand.
"Darling, it's over," he said. "I killed Benjamin Martin."
Melanie, overcome with emotion over the whole incident, fell forward into her husband's arms. She cried hard, sorrowful that William had to commit murder.
"Oh, William," she sobbed.
Tavington put his hands firmly on her shoulders and pushed her back a bit to where she could see his face. "Listen to me," William began, "You can never tell anyone of this. If you do, Wilkins and I will be hanged. You and Bridget would be widows with children. You don't want that, do you?"
"No….no," Melanie sniffled. "I'll never tell!" She threw her arms around Will's shoulders, burying her face in his shoulder once again.
Wilkins soon joined them in the mill's office. "Is everyone alright?"
"The children are fine," William said. With that, he pulled Melanie's skirt up to reveal the stab wound on her left thigh, which was bleeding horribly.
Tavington shook his head. "We can't send for a doctor," William said in despair. "He will ask too many questions."
"I'll fetch Bridget," Wilkins volunteered. With that, he rose to leave, but was stopped by Tavington.
"Jim," he said, "You have my thanks. How do I ever repay you?"
"Not necessary," Wilkins said as William shook his hand. "I'll be back with Bridget in a bit."
William knelt back down and began tearing strips from Melanie's petticoat, binding her leg wound. When he was done, he went to the glade to retrieve the goat cart and picnic items. Melanie waited quietly, resting against the wall and watching the children in the few moments her husband was gone.
Back in just a few minutes, Tavington gathered the twins into the wagon then went back to help his wife. She put her arm around his neck as he helped her up to standing.
"Darling, you're going to have to try to walk to the house," William advised, "so that no one will know you're hurt."
Melanie nodded, and began the walk to the house. She grit her teeth with each step, groaning lowly. All the way, she leaned heavily on William for support. Near the house and eyes of the servants there, she did her best not to limp.
Mrs. Sloane, who was sweeping the porch, saw the Tavington family coming back to the house. She immediately knew something was wrong. She set her broom against the wall and started down the veranda steps.
"Good Lord!" she exclaimed. "What happened?"
"Uh….the heat got to her," William lied as Melanie now hung on him, close to passing out.
"I knew it!" Mrs. Sloane swore. "I tried to talk her out of it! I knew the heat would affect her in that condition!"
With that, the head servant walked toward them. "Let me help—"
"No. I'm going to put her to bed," Tavington cleverly demurred. "Mrs. Wilkins is coming over to sit with her this afternoon."
"Oh, very well, sir," Sloane said without further thought.
"Diedre," General Tavington called as he helped Melanie into the house.
"Yes sir," she answered in the hall, curtsying to the couple.
"Could you please take care of the children the rest of the day, please," he requested calmly. "Mrs. Tavington isn't feeling well."
"Yes sir," she said, then sashayed out the door and down to the cart to retrieve the twins.
~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~
A half hour later, the Wilkins' appeared, William greeting them on the porch. As Bridget made her way into the house, Tavington turned to the head housekeeper, still out on the porch.
"Mrs. Sloane, Major Wilkins and I have business to attend to today," he announced. "We will return later this evening. Mrs. Wilkins will be here the rest of the day and her children will be joining her after their naps this afternoon."
"Very well, sir," she answered.
With that, the two men set off, walking nonchalantly toward the glade by the mill, where Martin's dead body lay hidden. Once there, they wrapped the dead man in old flour sacks, binding it with rope, then tying it to a large rock, shaped like a donut that had been used years before as an old boat anchor.
Wilkins waited nervously by the hidden body as Tavington went to fetch the covered wagon for their short trip. Jim was relieved to see it coming down the lane. He and William quickly loaded Martin's corpse into the back of the vehicle and covered it with canvas.
Within minutes they set off in a hurry, time being of the essence. Because of the intense August heat, it would be only a matter of time before the dead man began to stink. They urged the horses along the road as fast as they could toward the old swamp that Wilkins had picked out as Benjamin Martin's resting place.
~/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/#/~
For hours, the two women waited for their husbands to return. Bridget tended Melanie's wound, reminding her of taking care of the girl five years ago when they'd first met, when the officers brought her to Fort Carolina, stabbed many more times than this and near death.
The two old friends cried together today and comforted each other, swearing again that they would never breathe a word about what their husband's had done. They both had no desire to be widows raising families without husbands.
Late that evening, Jim Wilkins and William Tavington finally appeared after having deposited Benjamin Martin in a watery grave at the black water swamp. Both men hugged and held their wives tightly, happy that a syphilitic and insane Martin would never, ever bother them again.