The Fiery Cross - Diana Gabaldon [402]
“May I ask you, sir—may I beg of you—if Husband will come, will you not speak with him yourself?”
Tryon stood silent, oblivious of the dusty tricorne he turned around and around in his hands. The echoes of the recent commotion had faded; a vireo sang from the branches of the elm above us.
“They are citizens of this colony,” he said at last, with a nod in the direction of the creek. “I should regret that harm should come to them. Their grievances are not without merit; I have acknowledged as much—publicly!—and taken steps toward redress.” He glanced toward Jamie, as though to see whether this statement was accepted. Jamie stood silent, waiting.
Tryon took a deep breath, and slapped the hat against his leg.
“Yet I am Governor of this colony. I cannot see the peace disturbed, the law flouted, riot and bloodshed run rampant and unpunished!” He glanced bleakly at me. “I will not.”
He turned his attention back to Jamie.
“I think he will not come, sir. Their course is set”—he nodded once more toward the trees that edged Alamance Creek—“and so is mine. Still . . .” He hesitated for a moment, then made up his mind, and shook his head.
“No. If he does come, then by all means reason with him, and if he will agree to send his men home peaceably—at that point, bring him to me and we shall arrange terms. But I cannot wait upon the possibility.”
Mr. Vickers had retrieved the Governor’s mount. The boy stood a little way apart, holding both horses by their reins, and I saw him nod slightly at this, as though affirming the Governor’s words. His own hat shaded him from the sun, yet his face was flushed, and his eyes bright; he was eager for the fight.
Tryon was not; yet he was ready. Neither was Jamie—but he was ready, too. He held the Governor’s gaze for a moment, and then nodded, accepting inevitability.
“How long?” he asked quietly.
Tryon glanced upward at the sun, which stood a little short of mid-morning. Roger had been gone for nearly two hours; how long might it take him to find Hermon Husband and return?
“The companies are in battle order,” Tryon said. He glanced at the copse, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Then he returned a dark gaze to Jamie’s face. “Not long. Stand ready, Mr. Fraser.”
He turned away, and clapping his hat on his head, seized the reins of his horse and swung into the saddle. He rode away without looking back, followed by his aides.
Jamie watched him go, expressionless.
I moved beside him, touching his hand. I didn’t need to say that I hoped Roger would hurry.
62
“STRAGLERS AND SUSPECTED PERSONS”
Item #12 - No Officer or Soldier to go beyond the Limits of the Camp which is within the distance of the Grand Guard.
Item #63 - Commanding Officers of Corps are to examine all Straglers and suspected Persons, and those who cannot give a good account of themselves to be confined and Report thereof made to Head Quarters.
“Camp Duties and Regulations”: Orders Given Out by His Excellency Governor Tryon to the Provincials of North Carolina.
ROGER TOUCHED THE POCKET of his breeches, where he had tucked away his pewter militia badge. An inch-and-a-half-wide button of metal, pierced round the edges, stamped with a crude “FC” for “Fraser’s Company” and meant to be sewn onto coat or hat, such badges—and the cloth cockades—were the sole items of uniform for most of the Governor’s foot-troops, and the only means of distinguishing a member of the militia from one of the Regulators.
“And exactly how d’ye know whom to shoot?” he had inquired ironically, when Jamie had handed him the badge at supper, two days before. “If you get close enough to see the badge before ye fire, won’t the other bugger get you first?”
Jamie had given him a glance of equal irony,