Dark Eagle: Six Crucial Years in the Life of Benedict Arnold

By Gene Ligotti

What caused Major General Benedict Arnold to become a traitor? ;s a question that only a few have labored over. Many aren't aware that he was ever a hero and a great patriot, but he was ... perhaps our greatest. If he had died at the battle of Saratoga, his exploits on the behalf of this country would have deemed a day of recognition; a national holiday that would have been celebrated to this day. Now some two hundred and nineteen years after the West Point incident, few other than historians, remember the man, but all know that he was a traitor. Many do not know the circumstances of his sedition, but nevertheless his name is synonymous with treason. His heroic exploits have been forgotten and all we remember is the treason. On the battlefield at Saratoga, a lone monument stands in memorial of this man, but there is no mention of his name on the engraving. This book by no means condones his treason, but explains the reason why this great man became a traitor to the country he loved.
Fighting for our country's independence started longer before July 4, 1776 and Benedict Arnold was there at the very beginning where our story also begins. The seaport of New Haven Connecticut is his home and he is a prosperous young man with a family. He is loved dearly by the townspeople, adored by his children and sister. His relationship with his wife is somewhat strained as she is an extremely cold individual who seems to have drawn away from family and friends to live a secluded life within her own mind.
This is the time of Lexington and Concord and Arnold, leader of the New Haven Militia and the Sons of Liberty, calls his militia to arms to aid the patriots in driving the British back to Boston. This is the beginning for Benedict's valiant career, followed by his heroics at: Ticonderoga, St. Jean, Crown Point, Kennecbec, Quebec, Montreal, Skennesboro, Valcour Bay, Ridgefield, Oriskany, and Saratoga. The leaders, both American and British, praised his military genius. The public worshiped this charismatic man, but he had many enemies. Others were jealous of his achievements and sought to discredit him at every turn.
During these early years his wife dies of an unknown aliment. At the battle of Saratoga, he suffered a musket shot to his left hip shattering his bone. The leg should have been amputated, but Arnold refused, knowing he could never sit a horse again with one leg and therefore would be of no use to his beloved country. It took almost a year for the leg to heal and even so, he was in constant pain for which he took tincture of laudanum. His left leg was two inches shorter than the right.
In Philadelphia, which has been taken by the British, the Loyalists are deriving joy from the British occupation. Lavish parties are enjoyed by all, but especially by Peggy Schippen, daughter of Judge Schippen. Her dream, which she feels is her destiny in life, is to marry the titled heir to British wealth. She and her lover Captain John Andre attend all the parties, but soon this will soon end as the British leave Philadelphia. Due to his unyielding leg problem, Benedict is still unable to enter into battle, as leader of Washington's left flank, a position of honor. Washington places Benedict Arnold as military governor of Philadelphia, a hot bed of Loyalist intrigue. The Americans have parties as well, and at the Second Annual Fourth of July celebration, Benedict Arnold meets Peggy Schippen and falls in love with this Loyalist beauty, once called the most beautiful woman on two continents. While Peggy is seen on the arm of General Arnold, she is secretly seeing John Andre who is now a Major and the head of British espionage in New York.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 8, 2000
• ISBN: 9781462827633

Gene Ligotti

Gene Ligotti was educated at Adelphi University on Long Island and received his doctorate from New York University. After coming down with Rheumatoid Arthritis, he had to give up his successful thirty year practice of dentistry in Huntington, New York. After he retired, Ligotti began writing as just something to do, but it soon became a driving force. He is an American Revolutionary history buff, has given lectures about the impact the Revolution had on Long Island and he has written three novels of interesting characters of the American Revolution. Ligotti is also the author of the much acclaimed, Time Never Heals; the biography of the first battalion surgeon in Vietnam. He soon began writing suspense thrillers which has become his special passion. Each suspense thriller has a love story as a sub-plot, but Twisted Deception, the sequel to the much applauded, Incredible Deception, continues as a love story with the suspense thriller element as the sub-plot. As a freelance writer he wrote a monthly column for the Guide Magazine about the history of villages in the Catskill Mountains and of the romantic Hudson River. His widely praised articles on dentistry have been printed in various Dental Journals. Gene Ligotti lives in Smithtown, New York with his wife Corbina, where they can be near their family, Gina, Lisa, Nick, and their grandchildren: grandson, Gino and twin granddaughters, Gabrielle and Juliette.

Book preview

ONE

The London sky was gray and the day exceptionally cold for mid June. Although the sun was setting, it was hidden by a heavy overcast of clouds and had not been seen throughout the dull, drab day. A single carriage rattled slowly down Gloucester Place in the district of Marylebone and stopped in front of a fashionable town house. The owner had purchased the home as his last act of reckless abandon in an already audacious and chaotic life. A tall elegantly dressed gentleman, about sixty years of age, stepped from the carriage. He wore his dark great coat open and he pulled it around himself to ward off a chill. Highly polished buckles were on his shoes and white linen ruffles graced his collar. He bore himself with the dignity of a member of the British royalty as indeed he was. The sky suddenly cleared and the sun burst forth with such an explosion of light and radiance that the man turned and stared. The sunset was magnificent, but short lived.

As quickly as the light came, it disappeared and darkness rushed in from the east as the night came to claim its own. A moment of brief life; glorious and true, and then darkness. The gentleman glanced at the town house and, with an unsmiling stern expression on his kindly face, moved briskly toward the entrance. He carried a carefully wrapped bundle under his cloak.

Before he could announce his arrival, the door was abruptly opened by a man who was about to leave. The two men acknowledged each other without smiling.

Doctor.

M’Lord.

A moment of your time, Doctor, about your patient. How is he faring today?

The doctor, a relatively young man who appeared older than his years, stepped back into the hall allowing room for the caller to enter. The doctor kept his hair cropped short and was beginning to go bald. His sharp nose and deep set eyes gave him a startling appearance, but his smile was friendly and warm. A valet took the hat and cloak of the newly arrived guest and approached the doctor offering to do the same. The doctor waved him off with a slight raising of his hand. The Lord tilted his head toward the doctor as if repeating his question.

There is no improvement. Each day he sinks further and further away. His asthma is deepening in intensity and he has heightened difficulty in breathing. The pain in his legs must be excruciatingly severe. At times he grimaces, but says nothing. The slightest movement causes distress and when he coughs,... well... as I have stated, the pain is intense.

The doctor cleared his throat and continued. He has developed an increase in salivation and a pronounced difficulty in swallowing. His wife tells me that he has no desire to eat and has begun to refuse food. He could linger like this for months, but without nourishment. ? I wish that I could ease his suffering, but he wants nothing to allay the pain. . almost as if he wants to suffer. I’m going to my apothecary now, but there is little I can do if he refuses medication. Even with medication it is only a matter of time.

A door opened at the far end of the hall and an attractive woman of about forty years of age emerged. Upon seeing the gentleman talking with the doctor, her hand instinctively went to her flaxen hair and she adjusted an errant curl. Quickly removing her apron, she placed it in the room behind her and closed the door.

Oh, here is his wife now, said the doctor. She can tell you more. I wish there was something I could do to help her. I must confess, I come here just for her. her courage in the face of these new problems is extremely commendable. She is so beautifully delicate and child-like, so very much a woman who epitomizes what every man wants in a woman, and yet has withstood miseries that I can only imagine. She still suffers, caring for him without assistance, almost as if fulfilling a willing penance without ever having sinned. This lovely creature is with him constantly. I must take my leave, but I’ll return soon.

Thank you, doctor.

M’Lord

Charles, how nice of you to come. He gets so few visitors, he’ll be so pleased to see you.

My dear Margaret, said the Lord taking her hand and pressing it to his lips with a slight bow to his head. The doctor has informed me of your husband’s progress, and of your diligent efforts in his behalf. I can see that you have been getting very little rest although, you can be assured, it has not marred your beauty nor your pleasant appeal.

Always the gentleman and always with a compliment, however untrue. I feel quite disheveled and I’m far from the youthful belle of the ball of years gone by. I thank you for your kind thoughts, but more importantly on my husband’s behalf, I thank you for being his friend. He has no one.

May I see him? Charles said, taking a step toward the door.

Yes, Charles, of course. But if I may, let me prepare you. Since taking to his bed he has hardly eaten. His condition worsens when he becomes agitated and lately... lately all he thinks about is the past. The mistakes, the hurts, the failures all seem bigger now, all seem to mask any good he had accomplished. No one remembers how he was; so gallant, so brave. But his heart remembers and it tortures him. You’ll probably only recognize him by the intensity of his radiant eyes. At times I think that they’re all that’s left of him,. his blue eyes, and. his memories. He’s lost so much weight, his face has sunken in and his skin, once so smooth and robust, is now wrinkled and so old. In February he was only 60 years of age, but to look at him now you would think him older.

The doctor mentioned he was in pain. How severe is—

He’s racked with pain, but tries to conceal it and won’t speak of it. It’s almost as if he wants to suffer. He endures simply to torture himself. His legs, you know, especially the one with the severe wounds, are swollen with gout and edema.

The doctor used the very same words, ‘almost as if he wants to suffer’. But, my dear, I feel that I’m interfering where I should not. I’ll only stay a short time.

Oh, no, Charles. Please stay as long as you would like. He needs you. He once told me that only another soldier, another officer, can understand his suffering. But then, you and I know that he was not speaking of his wounds.

You seem resigned to. to his inevitable destiny. Forgive my bluntness, Margaret. He reached out and touched her shoulder.

I’ve been living with that honesty for a long time now. There’s nothing to forgive, Charles. You’re a good friend. She laid her hand upon his for a moment.

May I see him now?

I’ll take you to him. You can leave your package here on the chair if you like

No, Margaret, it’s for him. It’s something that he requested a while back. Took me weeks to locate it. Charles patted the package he held and the paper crinkled at his touch.

Just then a rage of coughing began from within the bed chamber. So loud were the sounds that both Charles and Margaret moved toward the door.

Stay here. I’ll see to him, said Margaret laying a gentle hand upon his arm. Silently, with only the slight rustling of her skirts, she disappeared into the darkened bedroom. The racking continued and Margaret emerged in a state of distress calling for her man servant.

Marlowe, Marlowe.

Yes Madam, Marlowe answered as he appeared quickly in the hallway.

Marlowe, go quickly. Fetch the doctor. You’ll find him at the apothecary. Go, quickly.

Margaret, I’ll go and come back at a more convenient time, said Charles, his face lined with concern.

No, please stay. The apothecary is not far and the doctor will return soon. He’ll give him something to calm these coughing spasms. When the cough is this bad, it racks his whole body, tensing and shaking him, shattering his will to live. The doctor tells me the pain in his legs is insufferable. I don’t know how he takes it. Please stay, the doctor will return soon. Your visit may cheer him.

She returned to the bed chamber and Charles paced the small hall. The doctor returned on the run and without a word entered the bedroom. Moments later the coughing began to subside and the doctor emerged.

Is he alright? asked Charles.

"The coughing has stopped, temporarily. I’ve given him. something. his breathing will be a little easier too, but no, he’s not alright. He still refuses medication for his pain.

Strange man."

Odd that you call him strange.

I know very little about him. Only what people say, and none of it very complimentary. But what else does he expect? As I see it, he has gotten what he deserves.

As you see it? And just what is it you see, Doctor? How do you know what he does or does not deserve? said Charles in an angry tone.

I meant no offense, M’Lord. I only repeat what I’ve heard. I know nothing of the man, the doctor said and took a step backward.

That’s true. Perhaps no one knows the man. But, just to pique your appetite, if you have any desire for knowledge about the man who is your patient, it may interest you to know that at one time he was called ‘Doctor’, and he owned an apothecary. He was a pharmacist. He was also a sea captain and owner of several merchant vessels; a very wealthy and successful man.

Really? I didn’t know. That’s quite interesting.

The doctor smiled and nodded, eager for more information about his patient.

I first met him after we sailed to London from America and have known him for the last twenty years. Before we met we were adversaries. I, of course, knew about him and was greatly awed by his exploits. I’ve since become his friend, but still wish that I could say that I genuinely know the man. He has always been a very private person. I would never intrude, but I’d like to know what he thinks and feels, to find out why he did what he did. Don’t you want to know, doctor?

Well, yes, you have stimulated my interest.

It is a tantalizing question. What could alter a man so, that he would change from being a renowned hero, loved and praised by all, into a despised traitor? And, please understand, this transformation occurring when his country, the country he loved with such a high degree of passion, needed him the most. The answer lies somewhere in his past.

The door to the invalid’s bed chamber opened. Charles turned and spoke to the doctor before entering.

After my visit with him, I’ll be happy to tell you what I know of the man.

I would enjoy that immensely.

Margaret smiled as she ushered Lord Cornwallis in to see her husband. The two men followed the woman to the bedside of the dying man, who had once again chosen his own fate.

TWO

Early in the spring of the year 1775, the brigantine, Polly, plowed through the white capped waters of the Long Island Sound. This large body of water which separates Long Island from the shores of Connecticut is sometimes called ‘the devil’s belt’ by seafaring men. The ship rounded Morgan’s Point and beat its way northward with a strong wind into New Haven Harbor. Its captain had been at the wheel, but now he relinquished it to his helmsman, and moved to the bow, eager for a glimpse of the town he now called home. His vessel was heavy with a cargo of molasses from Barbados and the ship was low in the water. After spending the long winter months aboard ship on the Atlantic Ocean and Caribbean Sea, trading from Quebec up and down the colonies and Caribbean Islands to South America and back again, he was anxious to be home once again. From late autumn until early spring he sailed the high seas: to Quebec with linen and homespun for furs, timber, and cheese; to the West Indies with cattle for slaves and molasses; books for his bookstore he purchased from London; medicaments for his apothecary shop were bought in every port of call. He missed his family; his wife, his sister, and especially his three young sons. His life was full and held his interest, but still he was expressly anxious to see his wife. He had not heard from her at all since leaving New Haven before the long winter set in.

The strong harbor breeze whipped at his thick rich black hair which he wore tied with a leather thong behind his neck. Handsome enough to be noticed, his naturally swarthy complexion was heightened by the Caribbean sun and seemed to make his flashing smile and blue eyes more radiant. His high forehead, distinguished nose and prominent chin along with a strong physical appearance, exuded confidence. His actions were quick yet graceful. His athletic body possessed unusual strength. He was a happy man, also quick to anger with a volcanic temper, but nevertheless, with his intelligence, good looks, and natural charm, it was easy to see why he was a favorite with the ladies. He could have easily strayed, but he remained true to his wife of eight years. As his particular wharf came in sight, he reluctantly slowed the ship’s speed by ordering the lowering of a sail. As usual, the townspeople nearest the harbor stopped what they were doing to see whose ship was coming in to port. The children flocked to the wharf and ran along shouting greetings to the vessel and its crew. The smiling exuberant captain, a young man of thirty-four, waved back at the children, calling out the names of those he knew. The handsome captain had made quite a reputation for himself in the town. Riotous and hot-headed in his youth, for the past few years he was a successful businessman who had earned their respect. A respect he now enjoyed.

But, many were jealous of his flamboyant nature, his elegant manner of dress and style, and his new and beautiful home. He was a well-read man, a pharmacist of some prestige who expanded his apothecary shop into a very profitable store featuring books and gifts of quality from all over the world. He business extended into shipping and he now had three brigs plying their wares to Europe as well as the Americas and the islands in between. As was the case with all sea captains, he found it very profitable to do a bit of smuggling, especially in molasses which his brig was now carrying.

As the heavily laden ship neared the wharf, his eyes searched the gathering crowd for some sight of his family. Then, as the brig was nearing the dock, he saw them and after giving some final orders as to the disposition of the ship and its cargo, he leaped onto the wharf from the still moving ship and pushed his way through the crowd. Some of the villagers called his name and shook his hand as he moved through the crowd toward a woman and three boys. As he drew nearer, the two older boys broke away and ran towards him. He knelt down and greeted both of them with open arms. His joy at seeing them was palpable.

Daddy, daddy, they both shouted in his ears. The captain’s smile radiated his happiness as he kissed his six and seven year old sons and held them close to him. Lifting them both he carried them to the woman who, also beaming, was holding his youngest son, just two and a half years old and screaming for attention. Putting down his older sons, he grasped his youngest son to his chest. He kissed his cheeks as the boy’s little arms held tightly to his father’s neck. After the greeting subsided, he leaned close to the woman and kissed her cheek.

Thank you, Hannah, for bringing my children to greet me. It was truly a pleasant surprise, but I can always count on my sister to do the right thing, he said as he shifted the boy to one arm.

Ben, if I didn’t take them, Ben Jr. and Richard would have gone by themselves and young Henry would have been left at home screaming for you. I thought it best to take them and besides, I was anxious to see you myself.

Hannah was a plain girl with dark straight hair. Her simple dress was of blue homespun linen.

How did you know when I’d arrive?

Well, you did write to us of approximately when you would be home. Ben Jr. has been watching for your brigantine for days now. He ran and got us.

And my wife? I’m deeply concerned. Dare I ask if she’s well? I’ve not heard one word from her since I left and she didn’t come with you today to greet me. Is she ill?

"Ben, please, don’t ask me to get between husband and wife. But if you must know, she is either in church or at home in bed. She vacillates between the two. When she’s able, she goes to church. When she’s not in church she takes to her bed. I truly believe her to be ill and have sent for a doctor on several occasions. She refused to see him, except on one occasion when she did consent to his examination, but he said he couldn’t find a thing wrong with her.

She no longer does anything around the house. As I mentioned, if she’s not in bed she’s in church. Not that I’m complaining, especially that you’ve just come home, but. I thought I was here to help her. Now she doesn’t even help me. Not that I’m complaining. I love taking care of my nephews and your home, but, I—"

Thank you, Hannah. I fully understand. I’ll talk to my wife, said Ben trying not to let anything spoil his homecoming.

Are you going to stop at the shop?

No, Hannah, I want to see Peggy. spend some time with her and the boys. There’s plenty of time to go to the shop. Everything going smoothly?

Yes, the shops are doing very well and sales are up, but please reconsider letting me do the books all the time, not just when you’re away. It takes me forever to get things back into order. Not that I’m complaining, but you don’t have the mind for keeping records. Oh, before I forget, Eleazar has come by several times to inquire when you’ll be back. Saw him yesterday, and he said to tell you that he must speak with you. It seemed important.

Thank you, Hannah. My good friend Eleazar, I’ll be sure to see him today.

They walked along the waterfront side by side with Ben holding his youngest son and the other two competing for his free hand. Entering Water Street, the fashionable thoroughfare facing the harbor where prominent families of merchants and ship owners lived, they continued to his home recently completed after numerous interruptions. The house was indeed a showplace with porticos, ornamental gables, white pillars, and a fancy coach house with a sizeable stable. The inside of the home was of equal magnificence with lofty ceilings, marble fireplaces, fluted domes, two wine closets, and curved staircases. There was even a secret staircase which started in a first floor closet and ended in the basement which had its own exit. It was built, not on a whim but for a specific purpose. The covert staircase enabled Ben to enter and leave his home unobserved to attend secret political meetings involving the merchants of the town. The elaborate residence was situated on two acres and planted with one hundred fruit trees. Ben had built the home after an exceedingly prosperous business venture importing Honduras Mahogany. Ben, Hannah, and the children walked briskly up one of the many graveled walks around the home, this one leading to the main entrance. They entered the home and all was silent.

Ben called out to his wife. Margaret, where are you, my dear. I’m home at last. Margaret?

The small family group waited in the center hall for some answer. None was heard. The children scurried about, calling and looking for their mother. Ben was concerned and alarmed.

I’m sure she’s about somewhere, said Hannah.

Surely she knew I was coming home today. You and the boys knew. Perhaps something has happened to her. Or as you’ve said, perhaps she’s gone to the church.

I wouldn’t worry. She’s about—

Ben turned in the direction of his sister’s gaze and there was his wife, Margaret, standing quietly. Framed by the doorway, she appeared as immobile as a statue. She could be called a handsome woman, at times quite attractive, but she was also painfully shy and possessed a haughty aloof manner which perhaps first attracted Ben to her. Her health had never been robust but, on this day, she looked well. Ben rushed to her side and embraced the dark-haired woman. Hannah took the children into the back rooms with the promise of a treat of sweets. Ben and Margaret were alone in the center hall. He pulled her closer to him, but she did not respond.

Margaret, are you well? asked Ben.

I’ve been feeling poorly as of late, but today I’m quite well, thank you. Margaret took a step backward, away from her husband, Ben.

I’m pleased to hear that you’re well, but is this the way you greet a husband you haven’t seen in months? Come on. I missed you so. Trying to lighten her depressed mood, Ben laughed and kissed her cheek and embraced her once again. She remained cool and indifferent. Ben released her and moved into the parlor. Margaret turned and followed him. Ben’s temper was beginning to surge, but he managed to control it, as he turned to once again look at his wife.

You haven’t answered me.

How do you expect me to greet you? Your sister and the children are about. She remained unsmiling and unmoved by his presence.

You could acknowledge the fact that I’m your husband who’s been away for quite some time. You could show some sign that you missed me. I expect no more than any man would want and expect from a loving wife.

I have been a good and dutiful—

Dutiful? I speak of loving and you respond with dutiful? Does it pain you to say or think of love?

I have been both a good and dutiful wife.

"At times... only at times And I suppose that you didn’t

deem it sufficiently dutiful to answer any of my many letters."

I felt no need to respond—

I constantly wrote letters to you and mailed them at each port of call. I received no correspondence from you. None whatsoever. Damn it woman! I didn’t know if I were writing to the living or the dead!

Please, Ben, your language. the children.

Forgive my outburst, but I’m home now and I find myself more alone than when at sea, where I’d think of you and long for you, while you. you couldn’t put one word on paper with concern for me. As I’ve said, I’m home now and I expect that you. that I. No! Forget all that I’ve said, Margaret. I want. no, I expect nothing.

Margaret remained unresponsive and unmoved. She walked to the large windows and looked out. Ben paced the room and then suddenly and abruptly walked to her. Margaret did not turn to face him so he turned her toward him. He was gentle.

I’m going to the shop. I must see to business. I’ll return later and perhaps you’ll find it in your heart to remember that I am your husband. Margaret,. I do love you.

Expressionless, she turned back toward the window without uttering a word. Ben raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips as the anger mounted within him. His anger subsided as he stood silently by her side for a moment before kissing her cheek and leaving the room. The door thundered behind him as he left the house and stormed down the walk to the road.

THREE

Ben stopped for a moment to admire the sign over the door to his apothecary shop, it read: B. Arnold Druggist, Bookseller & c.

From London

Sibi Torique

He inhaled deeply and smiled with pride as he entered his shop. His motto, taken from Latin, means ‘For Himself and For All’. Although originally from Norwich Town in Connecticut, he had made many trips to London, before renting a store on Chapel Street in New Haven. His success outgrew the original quarters and now on Leather Street he had found a shop sufficient for his needs.

Everything was as he had left it. Another man may have immediately gone to the account books, but Ben was never the one for keeping ledgers and it was sufficient for him to know that the store was doing well. He trusted his employees and his sister who examined the books on a regular basis. An avid reader, he stopped at the book section and browsed as if he were a customer searching for new titles. The students at Yale frequented his shop and he provided them with an opulent variety of books, including medical books and instruments. His own training and schooling at Canterbury, along with his strong desire for increased knowledge, induced him to read most of the books which came through his store. The New Haven shop, centered in a seaport, a college town, and the political center of Connecticut, was indeed the place for people to gather and, fortunately for Ben, to spend their money.

The small bell over the door rang and Ben looked up to see his old mentor walking toward him. The man was stooped over and walked with an exaggerated limp. His gray hair protruded from under a tri-cornered hat, which he promptly removed as he greeted Ben. His face was warm and friendly.

Dr. Lathrop, my heart warms to see you once again. It has been too long since we met last.

Benedict, I was stopping here to lunch with some friends and couldn’t resist seeing you once again. Before I forget, my wife sends all her love and begs you to come back to Norwich Town to visit her. You know how she loves you. You’re the son we never had.

Tell her I think of her often and fondly, and if I ever go back to that town it would only be to see her. How I hate that place.

Place the blame where it belongs. You hate that town because you and your family were ridiculed. It’s not your fault that your father was a drunkard.

Please, I don’t want to remember it. They laughed at me each time I pulled my father, stinking from alcohol, out of the gutter. Oh, the fights I had, trying to maintain some dignity for my family, for my name. I’m glad to be away from there. And again I thank you for allowing me to apprentice under your fine care.

I just taught you to be an apothecary. You’ve a natural instinct for absorbing knowledge, but it was my wife who made you a gentleman. God, you were a wild one. You even ran with a bunch of Indians for a while.

I beg to differ with you, my friend. I did spend time with young braves in a ritual of training. I learned the Indian ways, how to stalk a deer, hunting, and fishing. I was taught by the grandson of the great Mohegan chief, Uncas. That could hardly be called running with a bunch of Indians.

Well, your mother made you stop and stay in town. I remember the crazy things you would do. Always out to prove that you were better than the next fellow.

No, no. never better, but. as good. I wanted to be just as good as the next fellow. My father drank himself out of a fine successful business. Before my father started drinking we had merchant ships, wharves, a warehouse, a shipyard, a true fortune, and a fine home. We were a respectable family. My father began to drink and we lost it all. You stepped in and saved the house after my father died. That was all we had left and it was mortgaged to the hilt. I owe you everything.

And now you have it all, but just having more possessions is not what drives you. Ever since you were first in my care,. how old were you? Thirteen?, Fourteen? I’ve known that you just wanted to be accepted. You owe me nothing. You even bought back your family’s old house in Norwich.

Which I promptly sold. I’m not speaking of money. You gave me an insight into the fine life, gave me something to strive for. You taught me the finer points of business; I owe you more than just knowledge. You and Mrs. Lathrop gave me a sense of dignity, respect, and above all, honor. Honor and duty are. well, for me they are bound together. They’re the very essence of life. But enough of me, how do you fare?

How do we all fare? said Lathrop, looking around. You’re a merchant. You know the British are picking our pockets. How do they expect us to make a living with their damn taxes? First came the Stamp Act back in 1765, and then the Townshend Acts in ‘67. The war with the French cost them more than they expected, so now they take it out of our pockets with these ridiculous taxes. By prohibiting trade between New England and the West Indies, they take away our source of income and then they tax what’s left. That’s why we all must smuggle; to make ends meet. Lathrop rubbed the stubble on his chin.

Their warships blockade the harbors. The British board our ships and confiscate our cargo as well as the ships themselves, said Ben, offering a chair to Dr. Lathrop as he sat himself down on a barrel.

We’re all facing financial ruin. We both have apothecary shops, but where do we get goods to sell if they stop merchant shipping?

It’s more than just business. Good God, are the Americans all asleep and tamely giving up their glorious liberties, or are they all turned philosophers that they don’t take immediate vengeance on such miscreants? I’m afraid it’s the latter—

Last year in Boston, they did fight against the Tea Tax. Had themselves a regular Tea Party up in—

That’s not fighting. That’s subversion. And what did it get us? More intolerable acts! What’ll we do if they kill a few more Americans as they did in the so-called Boston massacre? That was five years ago and the British still haven’t answered for the deaths of those five unarmed Americans.

We have the militia. All the colonies have formed militia. Each town has—

Yes, dear friend I know. I’m Captain of the militia here in New Haven and I’d not hesitate to use my power when called upon. My boys are ready and well disciplined. We’re armed and uniformed. I saw to that myself. That’s the only way things get done; you must do it yourself. You see, Doctor, I’ve worked too hard for everything I have. I’ll not have my liberties taken away. They’re too precious to me, as is this sweet land of ours.

The door bell sounded and two customers came in. Both Benedict and the doctor decided to end their conversation. Almost immediately the bell rang again and this time Eleazar Oswald, Benedict’s old friend, trusted aide, and second in command of the New Haven Militia, entered the shop. He called out to Benedict and moved quickly through the store. Ben embraced his friend and introduced him to the doctor. Younger and taller than Ben, they had been friends for many years. Lean and lanky, Eleazar had curly light-brown hair and large deep blue eyes. After a short conversation lasting a few moments, Dr. Lathrop made his apologies and left.

Ben, I must speak with you, but not here, said Eleazar, using his hand to brush his hair from his eyes.

Walk with me, we can talk. I’m on my way home.

They left the shop and walked quietly with Eleazar cautiously glancing over his shoulder.

Ben there’s a meeting tonight of the Sons of Liberty. As you know, things have become intolerable throughout the colonies, especially here in New England. We must be prepared for any eventuality. There’s some talk that changes will be made in England’s attitude toward the colonies. Eleazar twisted his mouth and scratched his cheek with his fingers.

Ben waved to a merchant who was tipping his hat to him from across the street. He continued his conversation with Eleazar.

What do you mean by changes? More taxes? More of their Acts? Or will they just cut our freedom and liberties more than they have already?

No. It’s more like a change in individual treatment. We knew you were due to come home so we waited for you. Now that you’re here we must have a meeting. I hope you don’t have other plans. I know you’ve been away for many months, and it’s understandable that you’d want to spend some time with your wife and your family. Eleazar stopped just outside of Ben’s home. Ben looked up the walk to his home. He stared at it for a moment and turned and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

The meeting’s important. I’ll be there. What time? said Benedict, with a little laugh.

Good! We need you. Nine o’clock. at the tavern. I’ll meet you. Better still, I’ll meet you here a little earlier and we’ll go together.

FOUR

The Arnolds had an early dinner from which Margaret excused herself. She went into the bedroom she shared with her husband only six months of the year. After a few moments, Benedict followed and noiselessly entered the room where he found her resting on their bed. The room was austere. Although there were curtains on the windows and a rug on the floor, the bedroom lacked the usual warmth associated with the private quarters of a home. The tops of furniture were devoid of the casual personal touches such as pictures, ribbons, or even a hairbrush. There were no paintings on the walls and no flowers in the lone vase on the table. Benedict quietly closed the door and went to her side. Clearing his throat so as not to alarm her, he sat on the bed.

How are you feeling? he inquired.

I’m well.

If you’re well, then why did you excuse yourself and leave the table?

I no longer had any appetite and I felt a moment of weakness.

I understand that the doctor can find nothing wrong with you. Do you have a fever? said Ben putting his hand against her forehead. She moved away from his touch. Benedict looked at her a moment and then stood. He went to his closet and chose his clothing for the evening. Removing his shirt, he prepared to wash and dress for the evening. Ben poured water from a large pitcher into a basin on the wash stand and spoke to his wife as he washed.

We’ve been married for over eight years and still you shy away from my touch. I must tell you, Margaret, that our lack of closeness upsets me. When I’m away you never write and when I’m home you show no sign of love, nor compassion, or even simple understanding. I ask you, is this the way a wife,. a loving wife should act? I don’t ask for much, but your indifference is. is incomprehensible.

I’m a good wife.

Don’t trouble yourself with an interpretation of what you believe constitutes a good wife. I’ve sailed with men who at this very minute I’m sure. are locked in the arms of their loving wives. to use a phrase suitable for your delicate virginal ears. If you’re truly ill, this I can understand, but your lack of love. well. Did you think that my love for you would be enough for both of us? Peggy, why in hell did you ever marry me? Benedict could not hide the sarcasm and anger in his voice.

Don’t raise your voice at me, Benedict. Don’t be coarse and don’t curse. It doesn’t suit you. And don’t call me ‘Peggy’, Margaret said impassively.

How do you know what suits me? How my blood boils with the need for you, for your love! Do you feel nothing of what I speak? He quickly dried himself with a large towel.

I’ve been a dutiful wife.

There you are. There’s that word again. I speak of passion and you talk of duty. Even in your sleep, if I accidentally touch, you repel from me as if you were touched by a serpent. Let me be honest, at times the contact was deliberate in the hope that in your unconscious state I could raise you to a level of passion. Earlier today I spoke of my feelings when I wrote to you. that I didn’t know if I were writing to the living or the dead. Well, I’ve that same feeling when we make love.

You’re raising your voice again, Margaret stated dryly.

You still haven’t answered me. Why in hell did you ever marry me?

It was my father’s wish that I marry you. I never asked for your attention nor did I ever desire to be your wife. There, are you satisfied? It’s out now. Are you satisfied? Margaret spoke in a matter-of-fact manner, with no inflections or emotion.

Satisfied, not in the least, but it’s an explanation. If we’re ever together again, as man and wife, it’ll only be because you desire me. because you. you. will have a fire of passion burning in your loins. Until then, you continue to be the dutiful wife and I’ll be the dutiful husband. Let’s see how long we can live a lie!

Benedict continued to dress and as he did so his demeanor changed, at least on the surface. He put on his jacket and turned to his wife who had been silent. Good evening my dear, I’ll be out this evening. There’s a meeting of town merchants that I must attend. I do hope that you will have a peaceful evening, said Ben, his voice tinged with sarcasm. He approached the bed as if to kiss his wife, but then stopped and bowed at the waist. He appeared about to speak when he heard a knock at the front door. He pulled his watch fob from his vest and checked the time.

That couldn’t be Eleazar unless he’s extremely early.

Eleazar Oswald exploded into Benedict’s home. He was agitated and out of breath as he had been running from the town.

Ben, the meeting has been pushed up an hour, said Eleazar breathlessly.

We’re still very early for the meeting, calm down and tell me why you’re excited.

Ben, we only have sketchy reports, but it seems that the British have fired on Americans.

Where? Was anybody killed? Were the Americans armed? Did we return the fire? Tell me, Eleazar, tell me. Ben’s eyes flashed with excitement.

Nobody knows, but we should know more by the time the meeting starts. The town elders are having a meeting at the Middle Brick Church. The select men of the town have called an emergency meeting. The whole town is upset.

I’d imagine so. We still have time. Can I offer you something.? Have you had your dinner?

I’m too upset to eat now.

Perhaps you’ll join me for a drink?

Yes. That’s just what I need. How are you able to remain so calm? said Eleazar and the two men entered Benedict’s library. This room had numerous bookcases filled with books. Several small paintings hung on the walls and a large thick rug lay centered on the floor. A massive desk stood by the two windows and numerous chairs and end tables filled the room. Benedict poured drinks for himself and his friend.

I expected this would happen eventually. The question is what will the Americans do about it. I know what we should do, said Benedict as he set the bottle of rum aside. He handed one glass to Eleazar and lifted his in a toast. Here’s to the future of our country. Pray we make the correct decision tonight.

The two sipped their drinks and Eleazar seemed to become more relaxed. Benedict motioned his friend to a chair as he moved toward one himself.

You said you know what we should do. What’s that?, said Eleazar as he stretched his legs out in front of him.

Well a lot depends on what the circumstances of the incident are, but—

The door to the study bumped open against the wall and Benedict’s young son Richard came running to his father. Daddy, Daddy, some man is bothering Aunt Hannah in her room. I think she’s crying.

Arnold’s eyes were wild with anger. He gnashed his teeth. "It must be that damn Frenchman. That bastard who’s been after Hannah. He’s a man without honor. I told him months ago never to return here again. This time I’ll catch him. Eleazar, give me a minute to get around the house to her bedroom window. My son,

Richard, will show you which room is Hannah’s. You bang on it and yell. He’ll think it’s me and leave by the window, where I’ll be waiting.

Benedict’s plan worked perfectly and when the Frenchman leaped from the window, thinking he was escaping Benedict’s wrath, Benedict was waiting with loaded pistols.

So Frenchman, we meet again.

The Frenchman stared down at the barrels of the pistols and then up into Arnold’s angry eyes. He stammered, attempting to find and give some explanation for his presence in Hannah’s room. Hannah appeared at the window, her hair and clothes disheveled, her face anxious with both concern and fear.

Benedict, what’re going to do to him? You can’t kill him. I tell you nothing happened, Benedict, nothing happened. I’m unhurt. Let him go. Please, Ben, please! Hannah sobbed and pleaded as tears streaked her face. She brushed her hair from her eyes with one hand and held the ripped bodice of her dress closed with the other.

I let him go once before and he came back. He’s a man without honor. How dare he sneak into a man’s home with intent to compromise a woman’s virtue.

It was all her idea, said the Frenchman, his thin black mustache twitching at the corners of his mouth. I met her in the village and she told me to come and see her.

"Such a man, placing the blame on a woman for his own vices. You want to court my sister? Then you come to me, ask