Chapter Fourteen

French and Indian War 1755-1763

The middle-aged man didn’t notice the British officer enter the Blue Anchor Inn. Deep in thought, he dipped his quill into the ink bottle and wrote into a notebook. He frowned, ripped the sheet from the notebook, crumpled it, and threw it into the nearby fireplace. A serving girl brought him a plate of cod and eggs, his preferred breakfast. He tapped his empty tankard of beer, which the serving girl scooped up with a curtsy, soon returning with a fresh tankard. Dust mites from the bright cold sunlight swirled around the room, parting as the British officer approached the patron.

“Do I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Franklin, the inventor?” asked the officer.

Franklin gazed up from his breakfast. “You have.” Benjamin’s head was bald, with the exception of a light brown ring of hair, which hung unkempt to his neckline. His brown waist jacket and a plain white shirt appeared as if the inventor slept in. He wore brown knee trousers, white leggings, and black shoes with silver buckles. The scuffed shoes needed a good polish. “And whom do I have the honor of addressing?” he asked, as he spooned a generous portion of eggs into his mouth.

“Lieutenant Colin Harcourt, attaché to Major General Edward Braddock at your service, sir,” Colin said with a slight bow.

“My, that is a mouthful. Please have a seat Lieutenant Harcourt attaché to Major General Edward Braddock,” Ben said and pointed to a vacant chair across from him. “Would you care for a tankard of beer?”

Colin thought for a moment. “No thank you, sir. It’s too early…” then he noticed a half-empty tankard in front of Franklin and cut his sentence short.

“Too early?” Ben finished the sentence with a laugh.

“I apologize. No insult was intended,” Colin, said. He noticed the odd breakfast.

“And none was taken. Pardon me if I indulge in one of my many passions. Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. We all know there cannot be healthy living without good drinking. I see you are questioning my choice of breakfast?”

“No, sir,” Colin picked at a loose piece of dirt from his jacket with a fingernail.

“Ah, but there is a story behind my breakfast, and as I love telling a good yarn, please permit me. But first, let me buy you a beer and some breakfast.” Franklin waved the waitress over. “Please bring my friend here a tankard of beer and some breakfast. What suits your fancy?”

“I’ll have that beer after and a couple of apples if you have any.”

“Apples?” Franklin took a deep gulp from his tankard.

“Yes, we all have our stories, Mr. Franklin, and that is one of mine. I eat an apple every day I can. Now, I’d love to hear your story.”

“When I was a lad of sixteen, I came upon a book written by a Mr. Tyron. The book told of the benefits of a vegetable diet. I became a vegetarian and became staunch in my diet. On one occasion, I was on Block Island near Boston just as the fishermen brought in a massive haul of cod. They came on shore and cooked the cod at once. The smell was divine. I thought to myself that perhaps Mr. Tyron might have been slightly wrong on his assumption that partaking of any animal meat to be tantamount to murder. I reasoned that eating fish could be assumed to be justified slaughter. I have enjoyed a good plate of cod since, and I return to my strict diet of vegetables whenever the need arises. Now tell me the story of your apples.” Franklin took another drink of beer and slammed the tankard down too hard.

“No story. I like apples.”

“Well, you seem to be a strong, healthy young man, so the apples appear to treat you right. Maybe an apple a day keeps the doctor away. Suppose you tell me why you have searched me out?” Franklin pointed at Colin.

“I am here on Major General Braddock’s orders. We got a dispatch from a certain George Washington on your behalf. The letter states that you have a few wagons and horses that are required to defeat the French.” Colin lifted his tankard and sat it on the table again without tasting the ale.

Ben, who had returned to his journal again said, “That is correct,” without looking at Colin.

“I have been ordered to claim the horses and wagons in the name of the Crown.” Colin reached for the tankard once more but didn’t grasp it.

“Excellent, where is your regiment camped? You may claim for your Crown at once.” Ben placed his quill on the rough-hewn table. “Is there something wrong with your ale?”

“I am sorry, but Major General Braddock could not provide you with a regiment.” Colin polished a red apple on his sleeve but placed it near his tankard.

“Could not or would not?” Ben asked in disgust.

“It is not my place to judge. I follow orders, sir.”

“I understand. How many men are at our disposal?” Ben stopped the apple with a swift, firm hand. “Damn it, either eat the apple or don’t, it is no concern of mine. However, stop toying with it.”

Colin removed his hand from the apple and studied it briefly as if mentally counting his fingers, “Sir, there are five, not including myself.”

“FIVE! Your Major General is a fool. How are the five of you going to get twenty wagons and two hundred head of horses to the Ohio Territory in time for Washington to put them to good use? Is there one teamster among the five? Is there a wrangler in the midst? I hardly doubt it. Your Braddock has wasted precious time. Once time is lost, it can never be found,” Franklin slammed his tankard down, sloshing beer all over the table, his face red with anger.

“I, apologize. I was following orders.” Colin reached for his tankard and drained it with one gulp. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he let the tankard drop to the table with a loud clang.

“Yes, yes, I do not hold you to blame. I am afraid many a good man loses a limb, or a fool gave life following orders. Let me think. It will take weeks to hire enough Teamsters and wranglers to suit our needs. Then there is the challenge of traversing the Appalachians during winter, but the right men can get it done.”  Ben jotted notes in his notebook as he spoke.

“Sir, I have direct orders to have the horses and wagons in Ohio by April,” Colin said. He didn’t mention how he had once missed an April deadline and had paid dearly for that mistake.

“We shall do our best, Lieutenant. Now if you will excuse me, I have my work cut out for me. Poor Richard’s Almanac can wait for a few weeks.” Ben hurriedly gathered his belongings and placed them in a small carrying case.

“Might I add I have enjoyed your Almanac for some time?” Colin stopped short of telling Ben he had read every Almanac since they had first started publication over twenty years ago.

“Thank you. I suppose I should change the name to Poor Ben’s Almanac. I used the pseudonym Richard Saunders in the beginning to avoid fame, but everybody knows Richard Saunders and Ben Franklin are the same.” He swallowed his last piece of cod, standing.

“Sir, what can my men and I do to help?” Colin stood, shoving the second apple into his pocket.

Ben patted his pockets looking for something. “You may invite your men in for a tankard of beer. Rest for the night and depart in the morning for Ohio.”

“But sir, I have yet to claim the wagons or the horses, and I don’t have a clue as to how to get to Ohio.” He pointed to the top of Ben’s forehead. 

“Awe there they are,” Ben said as he retrieved his glasses from on top of his head. “Claiming for the Crown is a mere formality. Allow me to claim in your stead. I have a few maps of Western Pennsylvania gathering dust in my printing office. I will have my associate drop them off later this evening. Have you a place to stay for the night?”

“I have found the people of Philadelphia less than hospitable. We dropped by the Man Full of Trouble Tavern last night and were treated rather rudely.”

“I would not doubt that for an instant,” Ben grinned. “The proprietor is French. I will talk to Master Guest, the owner, and great-grandson of the original owner of the Blue Anchor; he will provide you and your companions a room for the night and breakfast in the morning. You need not worry; they do not serve only cod for breakfast.” Ben unpicked his quill and wrote again. Colin excused himself and turned to go. “Lieutenant, I hope we meet again. I can tell by your eyes and countenance that you have a story of your own to tell. I look forward to hearing it.”

 

“It is so beautiful,” Private Dawson said as the group enjoyed a panoramic view of the Appalachian Mountains. The soldiers were two days west of Philadelphia. The snow packed peaks, and the evergreens were indeed beautiful. Drifts of high snow made the journey difficult and occasionally near impossible. The soldiers were in a barren valley. A tree lined ridge lay behind them. A large forest of trees lay to the west, the direction they were traveling. Mountain peaks rose dramatically beyond the trees.

“Yes, private, the beauty is breathtaking. However, they aren’t much of a mountain range,” Colin said scanning to the horizon before them.

“It looks like mountains sir. Have you seen better mountains?”

“I have been lucky enough to see the Alps,” Colin said, leaving out that he had seen most of the mountain ranges in Europe, Asia, and Africa. The Appalachian Mountains were puny to him.

“I was born and raised in East London. These are mountains in my mind,” the baby-faced private said dismounting, leaving a trail of yellow snow.

Corporal Jacobs, who had been riding in the rear, galloped up to Colin through drifts of snow. “Sir, I believe we are being followed.”

“I have observed them, too, Corporal. They have been following us for the last half-hour.”

“Do you think they might be friendly natives?”

“I have no idea Corporal, but I am about to find out. Spread out, men. On my command, ride to yonder line of trees on the double.” Colin stood in his stirrups, scanning the horizon to his rear flanks. An arrow whizzed by his ear, falling harmlessly. “Double time, to the trees now.”  The five soldiers burst through the snow covered ground and headed for the shelter of the line of trees. Arrows followed. Colin heard an arrow brush close and lodge itself in the back of the soldier next to him; the soldier groaned in pain and tumbled off the horse.

“Dismount and stand your ground,” commanded Colin once they reached the trees. The fallen soldier, still alive, writhed in pain where he fell. One attacker leaped from his horse and with one swift move, drew his knife, and ran it against the soldier’s forehead, and then sliced his throat. The soldier’s limbs twitched for a moment and then his body lay limp in the snow. The killer waved his trophy to taunt the other troops in the trees.

The Corporal gagged, swallowing the rising bile. “Can you tell what tribe those savages come from?”

Colin rubbed the Scarab beneath his shirt, willing it to protect them. “One savage looks the same to me as any. I know the uniform of the man in the rear. That is the uniform of a French captain.”

“We are outnumbered.”

Countless arrows soared toward them, countered with a volley of musket fire killing a half a dozen attackers on the first volley and a couple of more on the second, but it wasn’t enough. The second to die was Corporal Jacobs. An arrow pierced his heart, and he fell backward, a look of shock on his face. The baby-faced private next to Colin gallantly fired one last shot before he slumped back after taking a ball in his gut. The last soldier dropped his musket and stepped out from behind the trees, his arms in the air to surrender. The French captain smiled and motioned the soldier to come forward. Relieved, the soldier stumbled closer to his captor.

“I give up. Mercy. Mercy. Have mercy on me,” the soldier dropped to his knees.

 “Oui,” the captain said, just before he leveled his pistol and shot the soldier between the eyes.

Savages had already swarmed over the bodies of his fallen soldiers, stripping them of anything worthwhile, and yelling and shouting as they scalped them. The peaceful snow stained an angry red.

The savages surrounded Colin, and he waited for them to move in for the kill, but they parted as the French captain stepped forward. “Leave him. We do not kill officers. We will let the elements do our job for us,” the captain said in French. In English, he spoke to Colin, “I will, however, require your horses, muskets, and your saber. General Washington’s camp is seven days walk to the west, my friend. I hope we do not meet again in the field of battle. I will show no mercy in combat.”

The captain yelled an order, and the savages rushed to their horses and galloped away to the south. Leading Colin’s horses with them and leaving him alone with his dead companions.

Colin tumbled to the ground, his body completely exhausted. He closed his eyes, fresh snow landing on his face.

He awoke to the sound of boots crunching in the snow.

“It looks like a party of Delaware ambushed this group. Sergeant, look for survivors.”

The crunching grew closer. “This one is alive.”

“Amazing. Simply amazing,” James said, “With all of those arrows flying around you, it’s amazing that you were not struck by one.”

“That’s just it. I seem to have an uncanny sense of my danger. I know in which direction to duck or weave. It has been this way in all the battles I have fought.”

“Other battles?” Sally’s mother asked.

“Yes, I previously said that I searched for any adventure or danger.” Colin thought of all the brave men he fought next to over the years. “That included too many wars.”

“I’m glad those savage Indians didn’t kill you.” Sally smiled.

“Oh, would have, if the French officer had allowed them. I think they thought I was some spirit. That’s why they didn’t attack me when they had me surrounded.” Colin adjusted his bothersome scarab beneath his shirt.

Grant lit another cigar. “It was fortuitous that there was a regiment in the vicinity.”

“Yes, fortunate indeed. A squad of provincial regulars was patrolling the area when they heard gunfire. I have no idea how long I was unconscious, but the captain assumed it could not have been long, the bodies of my fallen companions were still warm.”

“What happened next?”

“Well, we buried my companions best we could in the frozen ground. I was given a horse because of my rank, but that meant a private had to ride double.”

“What did you do with the dead savages?” asked Sally.

“We left them where they fell. I suppose the wolves had a feast that night.”

“The spoils of war have not changed over the last century.” Grant puffed on his cigar.

“They have not changed over the past seven hundred years,” Colin said. “Thus after a two-day ride, I entered the main encampment of Lieutenant George Washington and his Provincial Army on the last day of February 1755.”

“Was General Braddock waiting for you?”

“No, I came to find out that General Braddock remained in Maryland until the first week of June. He and his troops entered the camp the first week of July. Franklins promised horses and wagons showed up in the camp somewhere in between.”

Sally twirled a strand of hair between her fingers. “Did you meet President Washington?”

“No, Washington was sick at the time. He had a severe case of dysentery and hemorrhoids. His hemorrhoids were so painful he had to strap cushions on his saddle to buffer the pain. I did little. I had no formal orders so I could not do any official duties. An aide introduced me to Lieutenant Washington sometime later. He was courteous and conversed in small talk, but the meeting was short. I did, however, find that the rank and file Provincial Army to be congenial and kind overall. As I was not there as an official officer in His Majesty’s Army, I could fraternize with them. One, in particular, was a Private Isaiah Paige from Boston. He and I became fast and inseparable friends.”

Grant lit his cigar and said with authority, “I would have allowed none of my officers to fraternize with the enlisted men.”

“Braddock would not have allowed it either, but he was still in Maryland. When he arrived in camp, there was no time for fraternization. We were too busy making preparations for the assault on Fort Duquesne. It would take too long to go into details of the attack against the Fort. The assault began July 8th. On July 9th, we were hopelessly pinned in between the Allegany and the Monongahela Rivers, and the Fort. The enemy outsmarted and outmatched us. Five-hundred of our two-thousand one-hundred soldiers died, including Major General Braddock. Lieutenant Washington, Private Paige, one aide, and I escorted the dying General from the field. Washington saved the regiment with a fighting retreat. For the next year, I became the unofficially assigned an aide to Washington. We suffered one defeat after another. Yes, we had some victories but not enough. My end to the war came on a warm May afternoon in 1756. I was bivouacked close to the camp.”

“Lieutenant Harcourt, Captain Washington wishes a moment of your time.”

“How old are you boy?” Colin questioned the messenger.

“I am fifteen, sir.” The boy stood up straighter.

“You are too young to face the trials of war. What is your name, boy?” Colin stepped beside the boy.

“Arnold, sir. Benedict Arnold and I’m not too young.” The boy’s mouth in a straight line and his eyes were cold. Colin saw something in them that he had not seen in someone so young.  “I plan on making the military my career.”

Colin stopped, facing the boy. “A career in the military is a grand plan. However, I would pray for peace in your lifetime. Pray that there is no war in these Colonies after this war has ended.”

“Sir, my dream is to be a general and fight for the Colonies’ rights against an oppressive…” The boy’s jaw tensed, and his eyes flashed—just for a moment, Colin glimpsed fire in his soul.

“Oppressive king? Arnold, I can assure that His Majesty has the warmest regards for his colonies. Besides, any confrontation against England would be a foolish and unwise venture. We are allies and will remain allies for generations to come.” Colin watched the boy, waiting for the look in his eyes to show itself again.

Arnold stood at attention and said, “Captain Washington wishes to see you at once, sir.”

“Very well, but remember my words, young Arnold. Remember them well.”

Washington sat behind a cluttered field desk as Colin entered the command tent. “You wish to speak with me, Captain?” Colin said as he snapped to attention.

“At ease, Lieutenant,” Washington said without glancing up from the paper he was reading. “I have been removed from my post, effective immediately.”

Surprised and shocked, all Colin could mutter was. “What?”

“It’s true. My failures on the battlefield have not gone unnoticed. I am to leave for the border of Canada at once and lead an attachment of volunteers and secure our borders to the north and west.”

“I will be packed and ready to join you by the morning, sir.” Colin turned away.

“You have other orders. You are relieved of your duties and are free to return to England.” He went back to reading his paper. “The quartermaster is making a journey to Philadelphia for supplies at the end of the week. I have asked that he take you along. Dismissed.”

“But sir,” Colin pleaded.

“Orders are orders. I have eighteen months left in my enlistment after which I intend to retire and live out the rest of my days in anonymity. Martha deserves a husband removed from public life.” He threw his hands up in the air. “I believe history will remember George Washington as a military failure if history remembers me at all.”

“That was the end of my military career, temporarily. I left with the quartermaster and hopped onto the first ship back to England. I remained retired for the next few years, content to remain obscure. The Scarab, however, was not content. The scarab was determined to get me involved when troubles escalated in the colonies. I had no choice but to follow.” Colin drew the necklace from beneath his shirt and stared at the green surface.

Colin had no choice. He hated being told by the scarab what to do or what not to do. He wished he could throw the damn thing away, but knew he couldn’t. He had little choice but to follow the scarab, despite its destiny.  

Chapter Thirteen

Philadelphia late February 1755

The masts of the warships bobbed up and down in the bay like corks in a vat of wine. Major General Edward Braddock looked every bit the part of a British general wearing his red jacket with gold epaulets, bone white trousers; black knee-high boots so shiny one could see his reflection and a white powdered wig beneath his black Tri-cornered hat. Colin, looking no different from the way he had several hundred years earlier, stood next to the general. He also bore epaulets and a powdered wig. The Major General stood grasping the railing near the starboard cannonade watching the troops disembark. Being in his usual foul mood, he turned to Colin, his aide-de-camp. “I do not see why these colonists cannot fight their wars. Why they need to get the Crown involved is beyond me.”

Colin learned after forty-five days at sea that the Major General was not expecting an answer from him nor would any response be welcome. General Braddock liked to hear the bellow of his voice and preferred the sound of silence from his underlings.

Colin could see the breath of the soldiers condense into clouds of smoke on this mid-February morning as they marched down the plank in the regimented single file. A lone rider galloped his horse down the street, dust scattering as horse hooves clapped the dusty road, and the rider skidded to a stop as he neared the boat. The man, wearing a uniform unrecognized by Colin, jumped from the horse, and ambled up the plank, jostling the soldiers heading the opposite way. The soldiers at the top of the plank stepped back and allowed the impatient man to pass them. The man rushed straight to the major general and handed him an envelope. “Courier Caesar Rodney, Sir, I came from Lieutenant Washington’s camp on the Monongahela, Sir.”

General Braddock glared at the soldier with distaste. The young man wore a wrinkled uniform, his boots were dirty, and his face was red, sweaty and streaked with dirt. “I suppose it is the custom of the colonist armies to disrespect their superiors?” asked Braddock, his mouth turned down. “Your appearance is a disgrace.”

“I am sorry sir, but I have just completed a long and tedious journey.” The man handed Braddock a crumpled, dirty envelope.

Braddock pointed to Colin. “Hand it to my aide. My eyesight is not as it was in my youth. Truth be told, at the wizened age of sixty-three, I should be in England sitting in the lap of luxury and providing much-needed advice to His Majesties Navy and not wasting my time in this God-forsaken wilderness wiping the noses of His Majesties bastard children.” The general turned to Colin and ordered, “Read the damned letter, Lieutenant.”

“Sir, it states you are to report at once to the aid of Lieutenant Washington. Mr. Rodney, the soldier you see here, is to act as your escort.”

“Is that all? This Washington expects me to subject myself to the atrocity of this message. Well, I am the major general. I do not take orders. I give orders. I cannot possibly march my soldiers in this weather. Being the expert logistician as I am, I have developed a strategy to deal with this situation and did not intend to waver from that strategy. I plan to order all provincial governors or colonial governors to visit me in this damned colony…”

“Virginia, sir,” Colin said.

“It is of little difference to me what the name of this God forsaken land is.  I will send riders as far north as New York to bring all the governors of this, this, Virginia. It is imperative that each of them understands what I expected from them. You,” he pointed at the courier, “You must go back to this Washington character and tell him I will deal with him shortly and will show him who is in charge. I expect the appearance of the troops will not be a disappointment when I arrive.”

Caesar stood his ground for an instant before turning to leave.

“There is more, sir,” Colin said. Caesar vanished into a sea of red coats. Colin felt sorry for him.

“Well, don’t stand there all day and keep me waiting. I have a strategy to execute, but first I must get off this bloody ship and into my quarters. I can only assume that appropriate quarters have been gained for my residence.” He pointed at another Lieutenant. “You there, see to it that the men are assembled immediately for my proper address to the troops.”

“Sir, yes sir, General Braddock, at once, sir.” The other lieutenant nearly tripped on a bucket left by a deckhand, and teetered, as he tried to keep his balance, Colin’s out-stretched hand prevented the officer from further humiliation.

The general turned to Colin and snapped, “You may tell me the rest of the letter while we walk.”

Once on solid ground, Colin, continued, “Sir, the letter also states that Lieutenant Washington is short on horses and wagons.”

“And how is that my concern? These filthy colonists must provide their supplies. We provide only enough horses for my officers. We will procure wagons to suit our needs. It is up to this derelict Washington to provide for his men.” Braddock stopped and glanced at his boots, disgusted, and bellowed. “Don’t these damned colonists have the common decency to keep the wharf clean? Look! My boots are dirty.”

Colin examined but saw only a minuscule speck of dust. “Begging your pardon, sir, but the letter continues to state that a Mr. Benjamin Franklin has bought the horses and wagons. Washington requests you send a regiment of your soldiers to Philadelphia and escort the wagons and horses to Lieutenant Washington’s camp at once.”

The general stopped him. “Franklin? Franklin, the inventor?”

The early morning bustle of sellers barking their wares had begun. Colin sidestepped burly men carrying large kegs or crates to shops along the wharf.  He stepped into a large pile of horse waste as he paid too much attention to the letter.  “It does not say, sir. We could assume it is another Franklin, sir,” Colin said, his voice rising above the din of the crowd. He stared at the brown spot on the sole of his boot and wiped it off as best he could on a small clump of grass.

“I cannot possibly spare a whole regiment at this time. I cannot imagine who has the audacity to give me orders.  Although, if they have already bought the supplies, I suppose I could provide a small escort.  Colin, you may take five men, go to this Philadelphia, and claim the horses, wagons, and any other supplies you deem necessary for the Crown and meet me at Lieutenant Washington’s camp no later than April. That is all, dismissed.”

“It would seem to me that your General Braddock was too full of himself,” mused Grant.

“That is putting it mildly,” Colin shook his head, “He was not a well-liked man.”

“If I recollect, a Caesar Rodney signed the Declaration of Independence.” Grant dropped an ash from his cigar into the silver ashtray. “I believe he represented Delaware.”

“Yes, the courier was the same Caesar Rodney that signed the Declaration.” Colin thought back to the time he met Rodney again, a few days before that fateful day in 1776. 

“I’ve heard of Benjamin Franklin, was it him that you saw?” asked Sally. “Did he have a kite?”

“I’m keeping that part a surprise, Sally. On a frigid day in February 1755, five handpicked British Soldiers, and I left Virginia for Philadelphia. Our mission was to claim whatever we deemed fit in the name of the Crown. I was a given blanket order to take anything we wanted with no compensation. I hoped that we were about to meet the well-known Benjamin Franklin. I also wished I could have chosen my fellow travelers, but General Braddock insisted on picking them himself. It appeared he dredged up the sludge from the bottom of the latrine. In other words, the men reminded me of the associates of my favorite Captain Luke.”

Grant chuckled. “Well, I guess, since you were the officer in charge; that would make you the new and improved Captain Luke.”

“Lieutenant Luke, if you don’t mind,” Colin corrected and laughed.

“Who is Captain Luke?” asked Sally.

“He was an atrocious man that robbed me years ago, Sally.”

Sally looked at Colin with her curious brown eyes, “He was still in the army?”

“No Sally, Colin was using him as an example,” her mother said.

“Oh, I will just never understand adults!” Sally said with a sigh.

Colin and his companions rode into Philadelphia just after nine o’clock in the evening after a two-day ride. Freshly fallen snow glimmered in the moonlight. They stopped at the Man Full of Trouble Inn on the banks of the Little Dock Creek. A soft light beckoned them from the frosted window.

Colin pointed to two soldiers on his right. “You two come with me. The rest of you locate a place where we can tend our horses for the night.” Mist from the winter chill spilled out of his mouth as he spoke.

As the soldiers entered the room, the boisterous voices ceased. All eyes turned to the door. Glares and sneers followed them as they made their way to the bar. One large man stood to stop their progress. After a staring contest, the man bowed sarcastically and motioned the soldiers to continue. An overweight, balding man with bad teeth shoved three shot glasses in front of Colin and his companions. “What’ll it be? We don’t get many lobster-back boys in here.”

Colin searched the dimly lit room. “I can’t imagine why not? We are feeling so welcomed. This establishment is so friendly to strangers.”

“We are friendly to those of the right sort.”

“Something tells me we are not the right kind. We are seeking to lodge for the night,” Colin said.

The bartender stared at the soldiers with Colin and spat on the floor. “We have a room above the stables, but we sleep four to the bed, so you will have to share,”

“The stables, is that the best you have? There are five of us.”

“It’s the best I have for the likes of you. I guess you’ll be sleeping five to bed. And we don’t have a privy so when nature calls, just find an empty corner.”

“Could you tell me if Mr. Franklin frequents this fine establishment?”

The barkeep laughed a loud guttural laugh. The patrons in the bar glanced up. “Mr. Franklin, are you in here? Soldier boy, you’re daft. This fine establishment caters to a slightly harder crowd, mostly sailors, stevedores, stew-bums, and deck hands. They come in here after months at sea. They are particular about who they share their drinking time with, and lobster-backs are not who they choose. You may stay in the stable but keep out of sight. Payment upfront and be gone by sunrise.”

Colin tossed a half a crown on the bar. The barkeep bit it and returned to his work.

A pudgy barmaid with ample cleavage wobbled to the bar next to Colin and yelled out an order to the barkeep. Under her breath, she said, “You will find Mr. Franklin most mornings at the Blue Anchor downtown,” she said, and then, bending over far enough to show Colin her wares, “If you are looking for companionship for the evening, I am free to midnight. For the right price, I can satisfy the lot of you.” Colin stifled a gag. Her breath smelled of rotten fish. He graciously thanked her for the information, declined her invitation, and stomped out the door followed by curses from the barmaid.

The stable was not as any Colin had seen in England. It was no more than a long lean-to with a trough, hay, and a rod to tie the horses. There was a rope to the loft at the top and a bed of hay. There was no protection from the cold wind as it flew in from the open side of the barn. The men unrolled their bedrolls onto the frigid planking.

“I think we should post a guard. I do not trust our safety. Those drunken buffoons would slit us in our sleep,” a baby-faced soldier said. Colin expected he was no more than eighteen.

“I would worry more about that bar witch, she might be infected,” an apparent career soldier said. The soldier’s face was marked with a pox.

Colin laughed, “You might be right. I will take the first watch. Relieve me in two hours.” Colin took his great coat from his saddlebag, grabbed his musket, and took the position in sight of the rear door of the inn.

Snow fell. At first, the snowflakes were small and fell harmlessly to the ground. Soon large wet flakes fell, covering Colin and his soldiers in an eerie white. Colin shivered as he searched for some dry wood to start a fire, but there was none. The night was miserable.

The baby-faced private relieved Colin as ordered, but sleep eluded him. Thoughts of Alison and his daughters flooded his mind. Through the evening, an entire parade of his separate lives complete with wives and children he outlived prevented his sleep. A reoccurring nightmare of the blood-filled streets of Jerusalem haunted him once sleep came to him. He awoke just as the dull sunlight arose over the Delaware River to the East. The horses had been saddled, and his soldiers stomped their feet for warmth waiting for orders.

“Mount up. Ride two abreast. I can only hope that the other citizens of Philadelphia will be more hospitable, but we are only to ask for directions if we become lost and then I will do all the talking. Are my orders clear?” Colin and his soldiers left the miserable barn just before sunrise in search of the Blue Anchor Inn. Colin hoped that Mr. Franklin would be there when they found the Inn. He wished he had a better night sleep. The cursed scarab occasionally set his future into motion, but he never knew where or when. He had learned centuries ago that his feelings in such matters were seldom right, but the scarab always had it right. He had learned not to interfere with the scarab.

Chapter Twelve

Dover, England during the reign of King Henry the First 1100-1135

A light snow fell as Colin stepped onto the wharf. The new powder whitened the dirty, dingy snow already lying on the frozen ground. Shoppers hurried along the storefronts as they rushed home to their holiday dinner. The wharf emptied except for a lone shadow in the corner, peering, and unobserved, Colin walked away from the docks.

A frigid wind blew right through him, and he gathered his coat around him for warmth, the icy gust piercing the thin threads of his scruffy coat. More importantly, the coat hid the red flared cross of a Crusader, Robert insisted he bear the cross, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be associated with the horrible massacres. He picked his knapsack up and rushed away from the wharf. He knew where he was going. He only hoped he wasn’t too late. His thoughts raced. He mouthed the words he intended to say and daydreamed of his sweet, beautiful Amelia running into his arms. However, when he opened his eyes in the dream, the woman in his arms was not Amelia, but Alison. He whispered Alison’s name. Amelia, not Alison.

A passer-by on the street glanced at him, looked him up and down, and then hurried on their way. Colin never noticed the lone figure stalking him. The blustery weather blew a wisp of blond hair from the hood of the cloak. As he neared the inn, a lump came to his throat, his mouth became dry, and beads of sweat appeared on his brow. His hands were shaking so much that by the time he reached the inn’s door, he could scarcely turn the latch.

He took a deep breath, crossed himself, and stepped inside the door. There were a few drunken sailors  sitting by the fireplace singing bawdy songs.  While a table in a corner sheltered Robert’s spies. And a woman Colin did not recognize fluttered between the two tables.  A young blond-haired girl stood at the hearth without turning to see who entered. Colin closed his eyes and remembered the smell of fresh bread that wafted through the room. He breathed in, but the smell from before was gone.

You can never actually go home.

He almost turned around, but just as he was leaving, the man behind the bar bellowed, “Merry Christ… Saints preserve us, whom do they choose to drag into my inn on Christmas Day? My dear friend Colin Harcourt, I can scarce believe my eyes. Come in, come in,” Alexander said wiping his hands on his apron. “You look well, hell you look as if you haven’t aged more than a few days. Life must have been good to you. Enter. We have so much to talk about. Look, Adela, Colin has returned. Your sister was right all along.”

A young blonde-haired girl dropped her ladle, ran from the hearth to Colin, and hugged him, “It is good to see you, Colin.” Adela was as beautiful as ever even though the years added a few pounds to her figure. “I am sorry, but I must tend to the soup. We can talk tomorrow. You are staying?”

Alexander took over the questions. “Take off your coat. Let’s sit by the fire. I must know all about your adventures. Did you find the Earl? Rumor has it he died in Spain a few years back.” Alexander made the boisterous, drunken sailors move to another table and sat Colin in front of the fire. “I must know everything,” he told Colin. “Take off your jacket. You’re among friends.”

“I think I’d rather keep the jacket on.”

“Nonsense, the fire will warm your bones.” Alexander opened the front of Colin’s coat, saw the tunic, and stopped.

“I fear my clothing might cause a stir.”

Awe-struck, Alexander was speechless for the moment. “A stir? You would be treated like a returning hero.”  He stood, patted Colin on the back and bellowed, “Guests, I would like to make an announcement. My good friend and cousin have just returned from…”

Colin interrupted Alexander and said, “Has just returned from Canterbury after an extended visit with friends.”

Colin spent the next hour telling Alexander about his exploits during the Crusades. He left little out. Alexander was empathetic at Rango’s death. He wasn’t surprised when told the Earl took an instant dislike for him, and he was emotionally and physically devastated when he heard about the abhorrent siege of Jerusalem and the needless death of so many innocent men, women, and children. He hung his head in shame at the savage attack leaving rivers of blood in the streets of the holy city. Colin purposely did not mention the part where Robert was getting ready to retake his father’s kingdom from William. He said that Robert was more than upset at William. Colin also omitted the mysterious scarab necklace hidden beneath his shirt.

“Haven’t you heard? William died last April. William was hunting with his brother, Henry, and Sir Tyrell. I believe you have met him. He left a foul aftertaste in your craw as I recollect. They ruled the king’s death an accident. I have my doubts. The fact that Henry rode straight away to William’s castle and claimed his brother’s treasure and the kingdom is questionable. The act did not bode well for him. I’ll admit that Henry is doing much more for England in his eight months on the throne than William’s entire thirteen years wearing the crown. Most people are happy with King Henry and couldn't care less how he came to the throne.”

“My knowledge of English monarchs is limited. How did history record the reign of Henry?” asked Grant.

“With the exception of fighting with my friend, Robert, for the first six years of his reign, Henry was a great king. He outlawed slavery and passed a law stating those barons and those of royal blood needed to treat their vassals better. He set up a judicial system that removed any of those same barons from handing out too harsh of a punishment. We still have severe penalties, but at least the people were given the right to a court hearing. He also reunited Normandy and Britain. Overall, there was peace and economic growth throughout King Henry’s reign.” Colin smiled at Sally before continuing. “The only problem has he left no heir to the throne. His only son died tragically.”

“How tragic?”

“Henry’s son  was called William. When William was seven-years-old, Henry took the child to Germany to betroth him to the German king’s daughter. Henry and Prince William stopped in Calais on their way home. There was a young man with a brand new boat, and he pleaded with the king to use his boat for his return. The king could not change his plans. Thus, he offered his son as the royal guest. The ship, White Star, came to inclement weather on the crossing and sank. Sailors placed the young prince onto a lifeboat and rowed him to safety. When the Prince heard that women were left on a board of the sinking vessel, he insisted that they return to rescue them. The boat sunk after the women on board the lifeboat and there were no survivors.”

“How sad,” Sally brows knitted together.

“Yes, it was, and England mourned the loss. I think he would have been a good king.” Colin continued. “Yes, but the gloomy part of the story comes up next. Well, at least at first I thought it was miserable, but now I am grateful for the turn of events. It was at that moment I told Alexander of my intentions for Amelia.”

“Amelia?” Alexander stoked the fireplace.

“No, Alexander, I intend to ask Amelia to be my wife,” Colin said as he warmed his backside with the roaring fire

“I didn’t think Amelia ever gave you any idea that she would have inclinations of that sort.” Alexander fidgeted with an empty glass left by the sailors.

“No, but I figured she was waiting for a hero, and I thought she might take my hand now. I’m not the same scallywag I was when I came here first.”

“That is true. However, you are asking the wrong person, my friend. Amelia found another calling soon after I lost my dear Anabel and just before my daughter Ava married the baker.”

“You lost Anabel? I grieve for you, my dear friend, she was a beautiful woman She was a kind of spirit, if ever there was, one can only wish for.” Colin clapped his hand on Alexander’s back.

“Thank you, she was my reason for living, but now that she is gone, well, I still have my girls.” Alexander stared out the window, deep in thought.

“Yes, and you said Ava married the baker?”

“Yes, Anabel fell sick the winter after you left, she was too weak to fight the fever. Ava married the baker the following spring. The Baker has a face to frighten children, but he is a good man, and I get free bread daily. And Ava is now the mother of my first grandchild, a granddaughter wouldn’t you know, and another child on the way.”

“And Amelia?” asked Colin

“Amelia finally found a man worthy of her. She became a nun. She joined a cloister outside the walls of the Holy Vatican City. Praise be to God Almighty.” Alexander shut his eyes tightly as he spoke the last sentence.

Colin lowered his head. “I am too late for my dear Alison.” He sat on the bench near the fire and buried his face in his hands.

Confused, Alexander raised his hands and said, “Alison, I thought you said Amelia,”

“Yes, I meant Amelia. What became of the child, Alison?”

“Colin,” Alexander said, “You are not too late for Alison. She isn’t a child anymore. She is a grown woman and has all the boys of the town fawning over her. Like Amelia, she will not give them any notice. She has eyes for only one.”

“Don’t tell me she will also become a nun?”

“No, she is a different story. She spends most of her free time at the wharf waiting for her true love to return. It’s getting dark. She should be home soon.” Alexander glanced at the door.

“So, she forgot about me? Good, I am glad she found someone to make her happy,” Colin said disheartened. At that moment he realized why every time he thought of Amelia, he saw Alison in his mind instead.

“No, Colin,” Alexander said, “She waits for you.”

“Me… I…” Colin stopped in mid-sentence as the door opened. Alison stepped into the Inn, shaking snow from her hair.

Colin’s heart froze. She ran down the stairs, tears trickling down her cheeks. She leaped into Colin’s waiting embrace. “I knew you would return,” she said then she kissed him passionately.

Colin’s heart stirred, and all thoughts of Amelia vanished.

“I knew it would be Alison,” squealed Sally jumping for joy and clapping her hands in excitement. She ran over to Colin and gave him a hug, her eyes sparkling.

“You were right all along, Sally. It was Alison, not Amelia that became my first true love.”

“First true love?” asked Sally’s mother. “Most of us only find true love once in our lifetime.”

Colin thought of the many true loves his heart can go through in his life. He peered into her brown eyes as if he could touch her soul, “I agree, but most don’t live for hundreds of years.”

“I am sorry, Colin, I forgot for a moment about your… longevity,” she smiled. “If you don’t mind me asking, how many true loves have you had in your lifetime? Why didn’t you give the scarab to another or at the least dispose of it?”

“I have had more than my share, each one as true as the last one. Each one broke my heart when I left because of my curse. Each one left an emptiness in my heart as I outlived them. Mrs. Crawford, I know the pain you are living through. I have lived through the same pain countless times.” Colin walked over to her and touched her gently on the shoulder. “As for giving my curse to another or throwing it away, I tried. The person that I gave the necklace to died instantaneously. It isn’t only the scarab that gives you immortality; remember the damned thing bit me. I’m immortal with or without the necklace. I wear the thing because I get sick without it.

Sally interrupted the moment as she ran and placed herself between her mother and Colin. “You were telling us about Alison. I want to hear about Alison,” she said hugging her mother.

“You’re right, Sally, we were talking about Alison,” Colin said as he paced the room again. “Her father drew up the contract immediately…”

“Contracts?” asked Grant.

“It was a different time. Fathers who wished to arrange a marriage for their daughters were required to sign a contract if the father owned land that is. We were also expected to be granted a papal blessing.” Colin gripped his coffee cup, asking James for more.

“What’s a papal blessing?” asked Sally.

“We needed a blessing from the Church before we could get married. I must say that my Crusader tunic was more than beneficial. The Priest granted his consent without hesitation.”

“And the contract?” asked Grant.

“The agreement gave ownership of the Inn to me if Alexander were to die. Women did not have the right to property. I would have gladly given the Inn to Alison and Ava if it was within my power.”

“It is still an unpopular custom in most states,” Grant declared.

“It is a wrong belief, no matter the timeline,” Anne said adamantly.

“Alison, talk about Alison,” Sally demanded.

Colin smiled the memory vivid in his mind.  “Yes, Sally. Alison and I were married April 7th, 1101. She never looked so beautiful. Alexander walked her down the aisle, and Adela’s husband stood in for me. Ava was the bridesmaid.”

“Their wedding ceremonies sound much like today,” James added using a éclair to conduct the make-believe Felix Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, which he hummed.

“Where do you think the tradition originated? However, we did not have Mendelssohn’s lovely arrangement at the time. It has just recently become all the rage at weddings if I am not mistaken.”

“Alison. I want to hear about Alison,” pouted Sally

“I’m getting there dear child. Ava passed away during childbirth the summer after Allison and I were married. Alexander passed peacefully in his sleep ten years after the marriage. Alison and I lived a blissful life. I would do anything for her, and she for me. Clarice, the first of my daughters, greeted the world and us May 17th, 1106. Emma, Mary, and Anabel followed in rapid succession. I had all a man could pray or wish to have. I had a loving wife and four beautiful daughters. Sally, you remind me of my Clarice.” Sally blushed. “The Inn prospered. There was peace throughout England. It was truly a glorious time to be alive. Everything changed on the eve of our twentieth anniversary. Clarice and Alison cornered me saying we needed to talk.”

“Papa, you know we love you?” Tears filled Clarice’s eyes.

“Yes Clarice, I know your mother, you, and your sisters love you and me. Now if you will excuse me, I have tasks to complete. Have you finished your chores?” Colin tried to push past them.

“Papa, this can’t wait. Mama and I are worried about you. Mama has not been able to approach you about her concerns,” she said, the tears spilling over onto her cheeks, tracing tiny paths down to her jaw.

“Don’t cry, sweetie. I’m healthy. Well, healthy for a man my age.”

“Listen to her Colin. This is hard for her. I could not approach you. I took the cowards way out and asked for help from our fourteen-year-old daughter.” Alison trembled, sniffling tears away.

“This is nonsense. I had my birthday. I feel as strong as an ox. Show me another man my age than can do the things I can do.”

Alison sobbed as Clarice gathered her composure. “That’s just it Papa. Nobody can guess your age.”

“Alison, you know my age. I turned fifty-five two weeks ago.”

Alison’s entire body shook with sobs. She was unable to speak.

“Papa. You don’t age. You have looked the same for as long as I can remember. Do you ever look in the mirror?”

Colin paused for a moment, sat in a chair and stared at the ground. “Yes, I look. I was hoping it was just me that saw it.”

“No, Papa. We all see that you don’t age. We are all worried.”

Alison draped her arms around her husband. “Dear, understand, it’s not us. We don’t care if you never age. We love you and will love you forever. Colin, the townspeople have noticed, too. They say you are a wizard. They mean that you sold your soul to the devil in the Crusades.”

“Do you believe that?” Colin searched her eyes for an answer, finding only her tears. “What shall I do?”

“No, dear, of course not. We don’t know why you don’t age and are aware you are no wizard. We are aware you haven’t sold your soul to the devil.”

“Papa, Aunt Adela overheard people talking in the town square. The council has said that you are the reincarnation of the devil. They are seeking help from the Church as we speak. There is also talk about your  soul must be absolved. And, Papa, the last time they decided a soul needed to be vindicated, they burned a man at the stake.”

“You must leave at once, Colin. I cannot bear to see you burned at stake,” cried Alison as she wrapped herself around her husband.

“I can no more leave you than I can fly…” Alison hushed her husband with her finger aside his lips, followed by a passionate kiss. Clarice ran into her father’s arms.

“Papa, you must leave at once. If you stay, the townspeople will kill you. Please for our sake, go now,” whispered Clarice.

He gathered his wife and daughter to his chest, unashamed of his tears.

Colin silently slipped out of the back door, the moon hiding behind dark clouds. He carried only a knapsack. Tears fell to his cheek as the clouds burst. He left a note at his wife’s side. I’ll try to send for you when I can. He stopped in the muddy field, taking one last look at the Inn. He wiped his tears away with his shirtsleeves. He shouldered his meager belongings and went on his way. His heart broke, even more, than he thought possible with every painful step. He wondered if his wife would ever forgive him, let alone follow him.

“I bid my family farewell just after midnight on my twentieth wedding anniversary. I wrote letter after letter to get her back. First, they went unanswered. Then I never mailed them. It seemed better that way. The curse of immortality had claimed its first victims. For several years, I drowned my sorrows in alcohol. I returned to Dover whenever possible and watched my family grow from a distance. I saw Emma once in the marketplace, she smiled and waved, but said nothing for fear of my safety. All four of my daughters grew to maturity. They were as beautiful as Alison was. The four of them married and gave me grandchildren. I outlived all four. I attended all four funerals from a distance.”

“What happened to Alison?” Sally’s mother asked, tears falling down her cheeks.

“Alison never remarried. The Baker took over ownership of the Inn; his son took over after his death. Alison passed at the age of eighty-two. I was not there to mourn her passing.”

“Why not, Colin?” asked Grant.

“Two years earlier King Henry II had a falling out with Mother Church. The reasons are too many to explain now. The King forced his friend, Thomas Becket, to accept a position of Archbishop of Canterbury, a position Thomas refused at first. He wouldn’t dance to his friend, the king’s, wishes once he accepted the position. The king tired of his friend’s antics in 1164, the year Alison died. He banished Thomas from his kingdom. I was not there when Alison died because I was escorting the archbishop to Paris. It’s ironic how the title of Archbishop of Canterbury often affects my life.”

“I drank too much. I fought too much.” Colin had made a tsking sound before he continued.  “I spent time with the wrong people and dallied with the ladies, much as I had been when I was younger.” He looked at his audience to see if they showed any animosity toward him “You would not have liked me then. I did not like me then.” His voice cracked. “After Allison had died, I met other “true loves,” and the whole vicious circle started again.” His arms hung at his sides.” The one thing we can all look forward to in this world is to love and to die in the arms of our loved ones.” Frowning he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I could never give that to any of my wives, and I knew it would never happen for me.” Shaking his head, he sighed.  “I remembered the man who gave me this curse and realized he died alone. I too would die alone.” Staring at the wall, he stood and paced a few steps before returning to his seat.” This preyed on my soul. When I was between wives, all I could think of is to find some way to end the curse.” Maybe he was telling too much. Should he stop? No, he’d gone this far he might want to continue. “I volunteered for every treacherous adventure. I have already told you I sailed with Columbus. Time will not allow me to tell the tales of my adventures.” Pointing to nowhere, in particular, he talked as if the scarab had mesmerized him. “They are all stories within themselves.” Sighing, he took a quick breath.  “War is the most dangerous of adventures if His Majesty declared war, I was there. Unfortunately, the curse seemed to bring with it an uncanny ability to avoid death.”

“How is it you came to the Americas? Did the Archbishop send you?” asked James.

Colin hesitated, tears stinging his nose. “I arrived in the Americas when they were still colonies, in the winter of 1755. Being fluent in French, and yes, I finally learned that cursed language, I was assigned as an attaché to Major General Edward Braddock.”

“That would have been around the beginning of the French and Indian War,” Gran said.

“That’s correct, general. I came to the Colonies to help defend the Crown against the French.”