Willow Oak

WILLOW OAK

By K.M. del Mara

Copyright © 2018 by K.M. del Mara

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the express prior written permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

Characters, establishments, and events related herein exist solely in the mind of the author.

ISBN 978-0-9883967-7-7 Willow Oak paperback

ISBN 978-0-9883967-8-4 Willow Oak e-book

Contact K.M. del Mara at

kmdelmara@hotmail.com

www.kmdelmara.com

Front cover photo by Henry Zielinski, used with permission

Cover design by K.M. del Mara

K.M. del Mara lives in the wilds of New Jersey.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

A few locations in this book are referred to by their old place names. Skenesborough, N.Y. is now known as Whitehall, and Wings Falls is Glens Falls, N.Y.. The North River is, of course, New York State's majestic Hudson River.

Other books by K.M. del Mara

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Beautiful as the Sky

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Other books in the 'Silent Grove' series

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Whitebeam

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Passage Oak

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To my sisters

Marg, Heidi, Nancy, Maria, Joanna,

and in memory of Ellen

The willow knows what the oak does not.

The Tree of Great Peace

I am Dekanawidah, and with the Five Nations Confederate Lords, I plant the Tree of Great Peace.

…Roots have spread out from the Tree of Great Peace, one to the north, one to the east, one to the south, and one to the west. The name of these roots is The Great White Roots and their nature is Peace and Strength.

– excerpt from Gayanashagowa, The Great Binding Law of the Iroquois, believed to have been framed around 1450 C.E.

An Ancient Prophecy

It is nearly impossible to tell where a story begins, really, because its roots spread as far and deep as Time itself. But still, if a tale is to be told, we must step into it somewhere and perhaps the old prophecy is as good a place to begin as any.

The elders of our clans tell that this prophecy was made back in the time of turmoil, when tribes of our People were fighting constantly with one another, long before the white man came to North America. Violent feuds and wars for revenge were bringing so much death and misery that victory provided no satisfaction. So it was extraordinary that, in the midst of this brutal chaos, a miracle happened: we chose peace.

A lone man of the Onondaga People had been traveling from tribe to tribe, teaching that our Creator desired us, because we were all one People, to find a way to live together in peace. He was so persuasive that, little by little, we began to give heed to his words. Slowly we came to realize that, though we thought that the purpose of our wars was to destroy our enemies, in truth we had been destroying ourselves. This man of the Onondaga eventually convinced the leaders of five warring tribes to meet near a place we name Ganondagan. There, under a huge tree, our leaders buried their weapons and made a pact for peace. He helped us record, on strings of wampum, the decisions we reached. These became the laws that established our democracy, far in advance of any known on earth at the time.

Our newly united tribes became the Haudenosaunee, the great Iroquois Nation. The Onondaga man we named The Peacemaker.

We chose, as a symbol of our confederacy, a tree. The Peacemaker taught us that the lives of all our People were intertwined with this symbolic tree. But he warned that if we failed to protect it, to protect all that it stood for, terrible sorrow would fall upon us. Many of our People would become sick at heart. We would no longer be able to dream dreams or deal honestly with one another. Our lives would become filled with anger and gloom. We would not even be able to remember how to survive in our own land. And in the depths of this despair, everything, all that our people touched, would be poisoned.

Yet one small hope would always remain. The Great Tree would continue to live, its roots deep in the Unseen World, a doorway to the world of the spirit. And it was foretold that one day our People would awaken. We would arise, as from a long sleep, and begin once again a search for the Sacred Tree.

Our elders reminded us of this ancient prophecy when the white men first came to our shores. They feared that the white people, feuding amongst themselves, were bringing great sickness of heart from their old world. They warned that this sickness was spreading across our land like a fever. We, the Haudenosaunee, once proud that our many tribes were united in one longhouse, fell prey to anger and gloom. We could no longer dream dreams. All that we touched was poisoned.

And now so few remain who even remember the Sacred Tree.

The Prophecy Unfolds

By the year 1772 the great Haudenosaunee nation was slowly disintegrating. Tragically, the old prophecy seemed to be coming true at last.

Nor was the rest of the world spared its dire predictions. Take, for instance, the town of Boston on one particular night, on a snowy street where, upstairs, a candle burned behind an ice-frosted window. All seemed quiet, so quiet that hardly anyone at the time was aware of what actually happened that night. Indeed, it was several years before any of this came to light.

They would no longer be able to deal honestly with one another.

1772

Boston, Massachusetts

It was a bitter night. He was ignoring the blustery wind that rattled the window casements, but a light, urgent tapping on his door roused him from his books. He was surprised to see two women on his threshold.

Suzette! he exclaimed, when one of them pulled back her hood.

I’m sorry. I know it’s late, but I need to speak to you at once. She stepped toward him.

He hesitated.

Is anything wrong? he asked. Has something happened to Marcus?

I’m afraid something is very wrong and, yes, this is about Marcus.

Has he been hurt?

Oh no, he is in fine health. May we come in?

He looked at her uneasily, concerned. Had she had been crying?

But he stepped back and said Of course. By all means, come in.

She spoke as soon as she came through the door. Gesturing to her maid, she said I’ve brought Lianna with me. So, obviously, this is not a social call. I apologize, I don’t mean to be rude.

No, please, make yourselves comfortable. Let me offer you something to drink.

We haven’t time. We’re on our way to New York and I’m here to beg you to come with us.

He looked from one to the other. Come with you?

First I should tell you that I … I am going to break my engagement to Marcus Laycock.

What? he said, stunned. He said nothing about that to me.

I have yet to tell him. But I never want to see him again. I am leaving Boston immediately and will sail back to England as soon as possible in the spring.

Suzette! He smiled and shook his head. She was still young, seventeen or eighteen at the most, he guessed. You are over-hasty, surely. This is all a bit rash, is it not?

No, I am not being rash, not in the least. It must be done. When I tell you what has happened, I’m sure you will understand. I pray that you will, anyway.

What are you saying?

I’m trying to tell you that you must come with me to New York. Tonight. Right now. You have family there, do you not?

You know about my family?

Forgive me. I don’t mean to pry, but you must trust me. Please, I beg you. If you don’t, you will end up in prison surely, and possibly worse.

Prison?

It could even mean your life. I’m very serious.

I think you’d better explain.

It’s Marcus. He is evil, I swear to you. A horribly evil man.

He tilted his head, questioning, though a prickle of dread ran down his spine. Someone had given him a similar warning a few years ago. He had refused to believe it then and could ill afford to believe it now.

You’re upset, Suzette. You’re not thinking clearly.

Her eyes filled with tears.

I assure you, I am perfectly clear about this. Or, let us say that I have finally come to my senses.

Did you have an argument with Marcus? Perhaps you’ve misjudged. I’m sure if you talk to him, he could explain whatever little ….

Just a moment. Let me ask you this. You had a falling out with your last business partner, isn’t that right?

You know about this as well?

Marcus told me, or told me some of the story anyway. I know there was once a third partner.

Yes, all right. It’s true. What does that have to do with your engagement?

Marcus was plotting against you even then. He arranged it so there would be disagreements between you and your former partner. He provoked him on purpose and he goaded you into distrusting him. He stirred up all kinds of trouble.

How do you know all this? His hands raked through his hair. Old uncertainties sprang to life in an instant.

Marcus confessed it to me. But it was almost—you might say he was actually bragging about it! He was certain I would be impressed. He was trying to convince me of his cleverness, of how shrewd it would be to steal your business.

Steal the business? But why should he steal anything? He is my business partner now. We split all the profits. There is no reason for him to push me aside.

She leaned urgently forward. But he wants it all, don’t you see? The entire business. He doesn’t want you telling him what he can and can’t do. And he doesn’t want to deal only in silver and furniture anymore. He thinks he can make huge profits selling slaves and weapons. He cut your last partner out of the picture, and he has been trying for two years to find some way to get rid of you.

I’m sorry, but I find that difficult to believe. Still, he tugged nervously at his shirt collar.

Well, consider this. Your business has had unexpected problems from time to time, is that not true? Difficulties with clients, problems with customs officials, things that you couldn’t explain?

Well, yes, but that can happen in any business.

Of course, but take a look at this. She unfolded a sheet of paper. I slipped this out of a pile of documents that Marc has already shown to the British authorities.

Suzette! You must know that Marc would never have anything to do with the British. He hates them. He looked the document up and down briefly and handed it back. We filled this order two months ago. I don’t see any problem.

Look carefully down toward the end of the column.

He blanched. What is this? Fifty muskets? Ammunition?

Have you ever sold muskets to anyone in Boston?

No, of course not. Never. It’s highly illegal. The British have put a stop to all that. He rose from his chair, agitated.

This is what I’m trying to tell you. Marcus created false documents to make you look bad. And he is at your warehouse this very night.

It’s Sunday night. What is he doing at the warehouse?

He took some British officials with him. He is proving to them that you have boxes of muskets hidden there.

I’ll be horse-whipped if they find any!

They will find several, believe me.

You can’t be serious!

I am serious.

Marcus has stooped that low?

Absolutely.

But he is my friend!

No! Marcus is not anyone’s friend. Don’t you see?

I thought …. He would do that to me? After all that we …! That brute!

Now do you understand the trouble you are in? You must leave town immediately. The British will be coming to arrest you this very night. You’ll go to prison for certain. They could hang you for treason. You do realize that, don’t you? Suzette rose too and went to the window. She put one finger against the drapery and peered up and down the snowblown street.

I can hardly believe this, Suzette! I – I just don’t ….

Lianna and I are leaving now, right away. We must go before Marcus gets here. I have a carriage downstairs. Please believe what I am telling you. Come with us! Please?

He hesitated, pushing his hair from his forehead.

Yes. All right. It’s not as though I would need to be gone forever, he said uncertainly. There are things I’d like to set in order first, though. A few instructions I’d like to send.

No! We must go now. She turned from the window in panic. They could be here at any moment. If I’m wrong, there will be no harm done, but I am absolutely sure that Marcus is capable of the worst possible evil. Please say that you will come with us. Why don’t you go to your family in New York for a while?

Well, staying with my family is unfortunately not possible, but I will find someone to help me look into all of this. All right, let me think. I must inform my landlady that I’m leaving. She lives just downstairs. Wait for me in the carriage. I’ll be out directly.

These lost moments would, of course, seal his fate.

But looking immensely relieved, Suzette pulled her hood close over her face.

Come, Lianna, she said to her maid, then turned back to him once more. I beg you to hurry.

I won’t take but a moment.

He quickly gathered a few things, followed the women downstairs and knocked on the landlady’s door. He was surprised when she opened it immediately. He started to speak, but she pushed him aside and leaned out the door to watch Suzette climbing into the carriage.

Isn’t that Mr. Laycock’s fiancée? she asked.

Yes. It is, Mrs. Dawgboddy. Mr. Laycock’s former fiancée, I should say.

The landlady’s painted eyebrows arched. She lowered them speedily when he pulled money from a wallet.

Oh how kind of you, Sir! You’re paying your rent in advance?

Yes, I’ll be away for a time. This will cover my rent for the next month.

You will be coming back, I hope?

Yes, I will definitely be back.

Such a nice tenant as you’ve been. And will the lady be with you when you return? She gestured slyly toward the carriage.

No, she will not be with me.

Ah, I see. So! That is how things stand, she thought.

I must bid you good night, Mrs. Dawgboddy, he said abruptly, before she could ask any more questions. He tipped his hat politely and hurried down the steps. The carriage was pulling away before he had even taken his seat.

Mrs. Dawgboddy raised her eyebrows again. The carriage careened around the corner and, hawk-eyed, she watched it until it was out of sight.

She had hardly closed her door and settled another log on the fire when she heard someone running up the steps. There was a knocking on the door upstairs. She went to her window and bent to peer through a ragged hole in the drapery. British soldiers, their horses, and a horse and cart stood in the street. Clouds of warm breath froze in the air above them as they each, man and beast, shifted impatiently from foot to foot.

This is curious, thought Mrs. Dawgboddy, squinting through the drapery hole. A loud knock on her own door made her jump.

Mr. Laycock! She smiled and flung her door wide for a man with black eyes and shining black hair.

Good evening, Mrs. Dawgboddy. He bowed gallantly. I hope I don’t inconvenience you, my dear woman, at this late hour. Oh, you’re so kind. I wondered if I might inquire about my business partner? It appears he is not at home this evening. Did he mention where he was going, Mrs. Dawgboddy, or when he will be back?

Mrs. Dawgboddy raised her nose and sucked in her cheeks. This was getting interesting indeed.

Why, they left but moments ago, she confided. You just missed them.

Them?

Yes … mmm-hmm. Her hawk eyes gleamed.

Perhaps you would confide in me, Mrs. Dawgboddy? You don’t know any details, by chance, do you?

She looked at him as if uncertain but in truth, no, she was not at all uncertain. She was merely calculating.

I know something that will surely pique Mr. Laycock’s interest, she purred to herself. After all, wouldn’t it interest anyone to learn that his fiancée was leaving town with his business partner? Leaving at night, and in a great hurry too.

Mr. Laycock interpreted her silence as a subtle hint. To her surprise, he set a coin on her palm. Not surprisingly, her imagination took flight.

So she told him about the carriage that had just left.

She told him all she knew.

She invented a bit more, and told him that too.

His face reddened until it seemed almost to pulsate.

He left in such a rage that she was glad she had gotten his money safe in hand before she spoke.

Oh me oh my, thought she to herself. What is that old saying about the fury of a woman scorned? I daresay that jealousy seizes a man with just as mighty a grip.

Mrs. Dawgboddy snorted quietly. Such a fuss, such scheming! Far above such pettiness herself, she shivered with ghoulish satisfaction at the trials of lesser mortals.

It is lucky for my tenant, she thought, that his carriage had something of a head start. She doubted Mr. Laycock would be able to catch them.

But no, dear Mrs. Dawgboddy, actually a scorned man can ride like the wind.

All that the People touched would be poisoned.

March 1, 1775, three years later

New York, New York

Looking back, they remembered it all began on that March day when, seemingly for the first time that winter, the sun threw spangles of glittering diamonds across the indigo river. The whole world flashed glorious color where before there had been only grey. Brilliant yellow spattered the arching forsythia branches. White snowdrops trembled in bare brown gardens and tree branches whipped the sky, showing off their tight garnet buds. The town of New York had thrown open windows and doors to the sunshine. People left their dim, fusty workrooms and heavily draped drawing rooms to linger in shop doorways or at the stalls in the Fly Market. The wide blue dome of the sky offered such promise of spring that suddenly everyone wanted an excuse to be out of doors.

Mariah Rose, ten years old, was sitting in the window, looking out across the winter-brown lawn of their Cherry Street home. She was waiting for her mother and sister to come downstairs. The carriage waited in the drive, and she waited by the window, while upstairs they fussed over spring coats and winter coats. Ah me! Gloves and pocketbooks. Light boots and winter boots.

Her sister, Bronwen Rose, just turned fifteen, still wore no boots at all. She stamped her foot in vexation.

I wish our new clothes were finished! Everything is either too small for me, or too pokey looking.

Mrs. Trumbell will be back tomorrow for fittings, reasoned her mother. In the meantime, we’ll wear what we have so we can get our shopping done. Come along now, Bronwen, the carriage is waiting.

But Mother, this cape looks truly terrible on me. It’s too short! Bronwen flung it onto a chair.

Her mother sighed and rolled her eyes, but she opened her armoire and had an inspiration.

Maybe you could wear my grey wool. Look, the lining goes beautifully with your blue petticoat. I can’t believe it fits you. You have gotten so tall. There, now that looks fine. Truly it does, Bronwen. Are we ready, finally? She went to the top of the stairs. Where’s Mariah? You’re all ready, Sugar? What is wrong with your hat?

Mariah never spends a minute thinking about what she’s wearing, which is only too obvious, growled her sister, flitting down the stairs after her mother.

Here, let me button you up properly. Why didn’t you tell Eva you have lost a button?

Mariah! That hat! It looks like you sat on it. Maybe you can find a new one today. Can I choose one for her, Mother?

Mariah groaned and looked imploringly at her mother.

We’ll find her something pretty. Mrs. Rose pulled on her gloves and steered Mariah toward the door. Let’s not keep the carriage waiting any longer.

The March sunshine was like a tonic. Downtown, they mingled with carefree young New York. This spring, however, shopping was not a cheering pastime. In fact, literally everyone was grumbling.

In a town that usually got first choice of all the goods from England, there was precious little merchandise to be had. English ships sitting in the harbor were full of silks from China, fine linen from Holland, shoes made in London. But the rebels in New York, those so-called patriots, were refusing to allow the ships to unload. There was pathetically little merchandise to offer in any of the shops. Entire shelves remained empty. The patriots were hoping to force people to buy goods made here in the colonies, but everyone knew it was the English merchants who brought the finest things from the world over. A few store keepers managed to smuggle some items, whatever they could get their hands on, from pocketbooks to perfume lockets, but always at the risk of ugly reprisals from the patriots.

Lucy Rose and her daughters combed through most every shop in town, but when the afternoon began to wane Mrs. Rose looked about for their carriage.

I’m afraid Mariah is getting tired. Are you, Sugar? So am I. I’m ready for a cup of tea, anyway.

Hello, Rose family! a saucy voice interrupted. Anne Montgomery was a friend of Bronwen’s, two years older but far more worldly wise. You’re not heading for home, are you? Can you stay for a moment? I want to tell you my father’s news! Don’t go until you hear!

Anne’s father worked closely with the British officers in New York. Because he had lost his wife to the fever two years before, he often asked his daughter to help with his many social obligations. So Anne always had a ready supply of gossip and never failed to share it, well laced with her own hilarious embellishments. Her lively spirits were infectious and she soon had them all laughing. Then she drew them all in close.

Listen to our news! she whispered. It has just been made official. My father has been promoted! He is now in charge of all the prisons in New York.

He was promoted again? That is wonderful! cried Bronwen, impressed as always by the remarkable Montgomery family.

Mrs. Rose was trying to think of something complimentary to say. That is quite a distinction. I shouldn’t imagine it will be an easy job. Is your father pleased, Anne?

Oh yes! It’s a very important job! And, wouldn’t you know? Just today a prisoner has escaped.

Oh no! A rebel? asked Mrs. Rose.

Yes. He escaped just this morning and the British still haven’t found him. Of course, Daddy is beside himself.

Will these problems never end? sighed Mrs. Rose.

Don’t worry. Daddy is taking over the search and he knows exactly where to go for help. He has lots of connections in low places. She laughed at her own joke. Very low places!

So we have heard, thought Mrs. Rose. Aloud she only said, If there is a dangerous criminal on the loose, I’m glad we are not walking home. You’re welcome to ride with us if you like, Anne.

Well, I was wondering, since you are going home, Mrs. Rose, if you would permit Bronwen to stay downtown with me for a while?

By yourselves? With prisoners running around loose? I don’t think that sounds like a very good idea. Lucy Rose shuddered. But the hunt for the prisoner was not her only concern. Of all Bronwen’s friends, Anne Montgomery was perhaps Lucy’s least favorite.

But, Mother, Anne goes out by herself all the time. We’ll just go round the shops for a bit.

Anne interrupted. I’ll take responsibility for Bronwen, Mrs. Rose, she declared in her most self-possessed voice. Bronwen looked away, rolling her eyes, while Anne coaxed her mother into agreeing. We’ll just do a little shopping and take my carriage home.

You have a carriage waiting?

Yes. I do, Anne lied.

Lucy Rose never found it easy to make up her mind. She studied Anne’s eyes, china blue and not a hint of deceit. Will you promise to be home by teatime? I’d rather you girls were not wandering around alone after four o’clock.

We’ll surely be back home by four. I have to be home by then as well, Mrs. Rose.

All right, if you promise to be careful. Please, girls, be sure to keep to yourselves. Will you, both of you? Don’t talk to strangers. Have your carriage stay on Queen Street on your way home, Anne. And I’ll worry if you don’t get home on time, Bronwen. You know how you’re expected to behave, don’t you?

Yes, Mother. We’ll be careful.

Please congratulate your father on his new position, Anne.

Thank you. I will, Mrs. Rose.

As soon as Mrs. Rose and Mariah had gone, Anne took Bronwen’s arm.

Let’s walk up to the Fields. Maybe some of the officers will be out on patrol.

I thought we were going into the shops.

Anne steered Bronwen around the corner. The shops are dismal. No, I want to introduce you to a couple of very nice soldiers I met at our ball the other night. You must meet one in particular. I insist.

You had another ball, Anne? You didn’t invite us!

I wanted to, Bronwen, so you can meet some of these men, but you’re never allowed to come. I don’t quite understand why. I’m just a little hurt about that.

It’s my father. He doesn’t accept many invitations from people in the army. I don’t know why, either. You are so fortunate. Your father is wonderful, giving parties all the time, taking you out in the evening. We never get to go out anymore!

That’s too bad. Your father should be letting you socialize more. Daddy has often told him he should. Besides, meeting these officers would be advantageous for him, too. The army can do your father all sorts of favors, and I don’t mind telling you that it is a good place to find a husband.

I wish you would have at least sent us an invitation, Anne.

Don’t get angry with me. It isn’t my decision to keep you penned up at home! I am sorry, too, because there was one lieutenant that you would have really liked. He’s not the most handsome, but I think you would find him very charming.

Oh, I see, Bronwen fumed. You keep all the handsome ones for yourself.

Now don’t be snippy! Anne poked her in the shoulder. I’m just telling you what you missed out on, Bronwen. These men were all so amusing. And their stories! They have such funny stories. You should hear them tell about the play they saw in one of the prisons last week. I never laughed so hard in my life.

They went to a prison to see a play?

What? You’re joking! Surely you have at least heard of these? I haven’t been to any myself, though I hear they are quite entertaining! But Daddy won’t let me go. He thinks it is not a wholesome evening for an unmarried woman. He says the prisons are pretty disgusting places. Someday I would like to see one of their plays, though, if they are as funny as people say.

It doesn’t sound very appealing to me.

Oh, merciful heavens, Bronwen, must you be so very proper? Here, this is the corner where we turn. Aha! Anne pulled Bronwen close and lowered her voice. Don’t I always say I can sense the presence of men a mile away? What did I tell you? Let’s go.

Anne, I just promised my mother we would not talk to strangers.

Since when do you have such high and mighty principles? Come along! You’re just in a bad mood. Besides, my friends are not strangers.

I don’t know why I should bother. You’ll monopolize all of the nice ones.

Oh dear! You are feeling sorry for yourself today. Anne took Bronwen’s arm again and pulled her along. Listen, I want to tell you about this one lieutenant.

As it turned out, events forced them to comply with Mrs. Rose’s wishes after all. The girls had no sooner turned onto Broadway, when a group of soldiers in brilliant red approached them. Anne Montgomery put on her flirtiest smile.

See, I told you they’d be patrolling, she whispered.

But the soldiers, under the stern eyes of their officers, were all business.

We must ask you to return to your homes, ladies, if you please. We have had to cordon off several blocks.

We aren’t in any danger, are we? demanded Anne, widening her eyes. Is that prisoner still loose?

The answer was brusque.

Miss, the British army is trying to apprehend a criminal and we are requesting that everyone clear the area. Please be good enough to leave immediately.

Even Anne, who was well-used to getting her way, had no choice but to obey.

Oh for heaven’s sake, she whined.

I guess we won’t be meeting anybody after all, pouted Bronwen. Why are they keeping us away?

They probably don’t want anyone to get shot accidentally.

They’re not going to kill the man?

The prisoner? Well of course if they have to, they will. Though I can’t imagine he could be dangerous. Daddy said the prisoners are practically walking skeletons.

Why is that?

Obviously they don’t get enough to eat.

I don’t believe it. In a British prison? That is so uncivilized!

Well, what can be done? It’s the same in every prison. Food is expensive!

Anne dismissed Bronwen’s dark glare with a wave of her hand because they saw soldiers everywhere now, questioning, watching, blocking certain streets from the curious. But none of the men could take time for conversation. Anne finally gave up and she and Bronwen turned at Cherry Street. Even though Anne promised to introduce her flock of gentlemen another day, it did little to lift Bronwen’s gloomy mood. She said good-by and went on up the street alone.

The late afternoon sun had disappeared. Low-hanging grey clouds inched across the sky like great ships. Spring and all its charms had been swept away, blown by an east wind that thrashed the young trees along her street and promised rain. Bronwen tucked her hands into her muff and hurried the few steps to her own gate. Just before she turned in, the first icy drops fell.

~~~

Tea was being served and Lucy Rose was fretting. Bronwen promised she would be home by now. What is keeping her?

She’ll be along soon, Mariah assured her.

She’d better be. Mariah, is that our dog barking? Would you let him in? It looks like it’s going to rain and if it thunders, he will be in a panic.

Mariah went to the front door and called. Figaro!

The dog had cornered some animal in the yew bushes and was not about to obey her. He yapped frantically at the shrubbery and paid Mariah no mind.

Get in here, you little scamp! It had gotten cold outside. Mariah rubbed her arms and called again. Groaning under her breath, she finally ran across the lawn to catch him. When she bent to scoop the dog into her arms, she froze in alarm.

She was looking straight into the eyes of a terrifyingly repulsive man, hiding crouched in the bushes. She jumped back and clutched the dog to her chest.

What a pitiful creature! He was the most haggard person she had ever seen. His clothes were rags. His skin was a very peculiar shade of grey and he was covered, head to foot as far as Mariah could tell, with bruises of every color. Long strands of filthy hair fell over his face. Pathetically thin, he gave off such a smell that even from a distance she wrinkled her nose.

A quaking began in the pit of her stomach. The rebel! Was this the rebel who had escaped from prison? Anne Montgomery had just told them about him. She’d better call her father. That would be the intelligent thing to do. She had enough sense to know that. But curiosity! Curiosity was a hungry creature. It got the better of her. She hugged her dog closer because she was trembling.

What are you doing here? She could hardly form her words.

When the man spoke, she had to strain to hear him. Please, I need your help, he begged hoarsely.

She could only stare stupidly at him. Why was he here, a rebel in a neighborhood where everyone was loyal to the king?

Can you help me find someone named William Rose?

Her mouth dropped open in shock. William Rose! Why? What for?

Is this his house? The man could barely whisper.

Why do you want to know? She started to back away. The squirming dog tried desperately to wriggle from her arms and began barking wildly again.

I beg you. Just tell me where he lives. I mean him no harm of any kind.

I … I don’t know ….

Please, can’t you help me? He seemed desperate. Indeed, she was sure he must be very frightened, but she pulled back when the thin claw of his hand reached toward her. William Rose. Please! I think he lives near here somewhere. He will want to talk to me, he whispered. He … he knows me.

He knows you?

He hesitated, catching his breath.

Can you at least get a message to him for me? Tell him Charles needs to see him. It’s very important. Tell him it’s Charles … Charles Boyd.

Mariah bit her lip. Her parents would be dreadfully upset if she helped this man. He was obviously the escaped prisoner. She had no doubt of that. Her heart was thumping so she could hardly think. They would be so angry! Still, she wavered. Was helping someone so foolish? She knew she should try to be sensible. Yet some instinct from deep inside struggled, like a grubby old tomcat in a bubble bath, against her good sense.

I’m not sure, she quavered.

Perhaps Lucy .… He stopped to clutch his chest. He seemed very ill. Perhaps Lucy Rose could help me, if her husband is away.

He knew their mother as well? Mariah looked around, desperate to decide the right thing to do. Soldiers! Anne Montgomery had said there were soldiers chasing the prisoner. How terrifying! Mariah stretched to look up and down the street. She could see no soldiers, but she did spot her sister Bronwen, coming back from shopping. Mariah most definitely did not want to hear Bronwen’s opinion of how to handle this dilemma.

Big drops of freezing rain began pelting her shoulders. Suddenly the great dark clouds burst open. It began to pour.

Quick! she said to the man. Back there!

The man looked doubtfully at her. Where?

There is a summerhouse in the garden that you can hide in. That way. She motioned for him to keep close to the shrubbery. Go ahead! It’s back there! I’ll get my father.

The only person I want to speak to.…

My father is William Rose.

He stopped to look at her. His grey eyes lightened a shade.

Mariah pointed the way to the summerhouse and the man began to limp painfully across the lawn toward the corner of the house.

Figaro the dog still felt no sympathy for him whatsoever. Seeing the man hobbling along the shrubbery, he leapt from Mariah’s arms and took up the chase again.

Fig, get back here! she shouted. The three of them, the man, the dog and the girl, ran across the lawn in the pouring rain.

~~~

Bronwen turned in at their gate and stopped abruptly. What was this? A hideously ragged man had just staggered around the corner of their house! Her eyes widened in horror. She saw her sister bend to capture the dog and turn to run back through the rain, toward the front door. Bronwen ran to meet her.

Mariah! That awful man! What is he doing here? She gripped Mariah’s arm.

Mariah pulled from her grasp. I have to get Father!

Who was that man?

Mariah ignored her and barged through the front door. Father! Father, come quickly.

Mariah released the dog as she stormed into the house and Bronwen followed close behind her. Girls, dog—all were wet with rain. It was well after four o’clock. The family was gathered at the tea table, and their mother was just rising from her chair with a face like doom. Their father barely glanced up from his newspaper.

Father, you must come with me!

What is it, Mariah?

She would never get him to understand what she had done. He would be very angry but it was too late to worry about that now. In for a penny, in for a pound, as Passe would say.

You must come quickly! There is someone in the garden waiting for you. Please! Hurry! Mariah pulled urgently on her father’s sleeve.

What? Mariah, it’s pouring out there. No sane person would be out in the garden in this weather. William Rose did not stir.

Mariah! squealed her sister. Did you tell that horrid man he could stay here?

He’s not horrid. He’s not clean but ….

Are you daft? He is the escaped prisoner! I’m sure he must be! You heard what Anne said. Don’t go out there, Father. Send for the authorities!

Mariah panicked. No! Don’t do that! Father, this man out there, hiding in our garden, I was afraid ….

In our garden? William Rose put down his newspaper.

Don’t be a fool, Mariah! cried Bronwen. He is a rebel!

Wait, listen to what I have to tell you. He looks horrible and he’s all filthy but he says … he says he know you, Father.

Who?

He said to tell you his name is Charles Boyd.

As Mariah watched, a change spread across her father’s face, first a frown, then confused panic. He lurched from his chair.

He’s the escaped prisoner, Father, cried Bronwen. You can’t go out there. They’re going to shoot him.

Who is going to shoot him?

The army! The British army!

William Rose’s mouth fell open.

Prisoner? He gaped at them, bewildered.

Can’t you do something, please Father? He needs to talk to you, begged Mariah. Her face crinkled with worry. Her father was very upset with her. Helping a rebel was foolish. Unforgivable. Her fingers, icy cold, were knotted against her lips.

But Mariah had become invisible to her father. He turned a stunned look on their mother, who had staggered back into her chair again.

It couldn’t be, she gasped in a strangled voice. How could it? Charles, a prisoner?

Perhaps by chance, Charles was also the name given to their small brother, and that little person looked up from his scone for just a moment before going back to the business of licking jelly off the top.

Both girls looked from one parent to the other. Was it possible that their father actually knew this horrible Charles Boyd?

Alarm sped like fire through Bronwen’s veins. No one seemed able to make a sensible decision! She tried to pull her father around to face her.

When we were downtown, the soldiers were looking everywhere for a prisoner. Send for them, Father! she urged. Send for the army. He must be the one they’re searching for. He’s very dangerous.

No he’s not, Bronwen, argued Mariah. He can hardly walk.

Her father went completely white. He gripped the back of a chair to steady himself.

Where is he?

He’s hiding in the summerhouse.

William Rose ran from the room without another word.

Shocked, his daughters stared after him.

I’ll take the children upstairs, Ma’am, said Eva, their Negro housekeeper. She was nothing if not efficient, and she had no qualms about assuming control. Without waiting to be told, she scooped little Charles, jelly-face and all, into her arms. She urged Mariah from her chair and tried to bustle Bronwen toward the stairs.

Mother, demanded Bronwen, resisting Eva, who is that man? Does Father really have a friend who is a rebel?

No, not a friend. We will discuss all of this later. Do as Eva says, now.

One look at her mistress’s pinched face convinced Eva that taking charge was the right thing to do. Don’t distress yourself, Mrs. Rose. I’ll arrange to have the children take their suppers upstairs tonight. Come along! You girls must change out of those wet clothes.

Yes, thank you, Eva. Mrs. Rose flopped against the back of her chair, dazed and pale.

Mother! wailed Mariah. I don’t want to have supper up there! Please tell us what is going on. She knew she had made an enormous mistake and expected to be disciplined. But why was Bronwen also to be confined upstairs?

The bang of the brass doorknocker startled them all. They stared dumbly at each other for a moment.

I will get the door, Ma’am.

Yes, Eva, if you please. Say we are not available at present. Here, I’ll take Charles. Girls, upstairs right away, commanded their mother, finally mobilized and shooing them ahead of her.

There was no arguing this time. The two girls scuttled to the stairway as Eva pulled her apron into order and marched to the