We climbed the stairs and I felt the stunning blow of his silence as if he had slapped my face. I undressed for bed, unsure what to say or do. When he removed the packet from his coat, he slipped it underneath the top drawer of the tall chest by the door, where it would rest below the drawer and above the dust cover. I watched, rapt, but he blew out the candle before he turned toward the bed. We lay side by side. Still he spoke nothing, and touched me not at all. At last, I could bear it no longer and I said, “Cullah, I do not know why you are so—”
“I have never been so angry with you in all these years, wife. Never once have I had to still my hand from throttling the stubbornness out of you.”
“It seemed a good plan.”
“Speak no more of it. Bad enough that you raise your voice in Meeting.”
I wept openly, sobbing, my elbow above my eyes like a child.
“You made me a fool before the whole town,” he said. “Or do they think I am the coward who put you up to it? At the least, I am now a man whose wife must outthink him in public at the cost of her hearth and home. Is that what you think of me, Resolute? Am I but a fatheaded gob to be outdone? You made me a henpecked gamock before the church by your scorn for my offer.”
“Scorn? I meant no scorn.” I had felt enthusiasm. I had thought it called on my courage. I turned away from him and faced the wall. Between my sobs I gasped out, “I have never thought of you with scorn. What I said makes sense to me, still.”
“You could be captured and taken and beaten, in the name of God. Flogged naked in a pillory with none to protect you this time. Or worse. You could be a-abused!”
“I have been beaten before, Eadan. I have been beaten until it tore the clothes from me and I could not stand.”
He went silent again, and I felt his anger rekindling, for his whole body trembled. When at last he spoke, it was in a whisper. “Abused, too?”
I turned to him, my own anger showing now. “You were with me on our wedding night, husband. You answer that question, was I virgin or not? When I said beaten I meant beaten until not one inch of my body was without bruises.”
After a long silence, he asked, “How old were you?”
“Ten or so. Eleven. No one cared when my birthday was, so I lost track sometimes.”
“A babe. No older than our Dolly.”
“A slave.”
He sighed. “The thought of you in the hands of British soldiers makes me weak, as if I could die from the image alone.”
“If I made you feel foolish, my dearest husband, I am sorry. I thought only of a plan to get the message through, not meaning to step on your pride. You were not angry that other men offered the same.”
His great hand lay upon my shoulder. “Men die for their causes. I was feeling proud and brave, then, to offer to carry the message. And yes, my pride was big enough you could not move without stepping on it.” He laughed softly. He kissed the top of my shoulder and put his hand over the place he had kissed. “Would you have me believe you were feeling proud and brave, as well?”
I rolled over to face him. “And why not? You asked me not long ago what I believe in, what was there in life that I would keep so close as to die for. The more I heard tonight, the more I knew what it was. I have been a slave, Cullah MacLammond. A caged captive. I believe in liberty.”
“They call it treason.”
“You have joined the rebellion. You came here to this shore as a rebel Scot. Do you think freedom is a cry that exists only in men’s hearts? Do you think women know nothing of slavery and bondage? It is worse, for we are subject to the whim of any master, be he a lord or a husband. A woman must abide as she can. You are a kind and loving husband, but it is not always so. Even a pious man may be a tyrant of a husband and a ripping bad father. Do you think I could sit there these many weeks, and listen to those words, hear you speak of your worries and of war, and not be moved?”
“I thought women cared for nothing but children and home. And sometimes—”
“What?”
“Sometimes finery. I did not say it because I know you are not vain.”
“Simply because a woman cannot swing a sword that is taller than a man does not mean she cannot feel those same stirrings that you feel in a battle. She must fight with cleverness instead of muscle.”
“Unless she’s Saint Joan.”
I stopped my tears and said, “Saint Joan the lunatic.” I sighed. The moon was bright and I could see his face outlined in faint blue light coming through the window. “I am no lunatic, though I know I can be brash. I, too, shudder in terror at the thought of you carrying messages through the forest at night. Do not roll your eyes at me, Cullah MacLammond. I do. It is not your courage I doubt, but courage will not stop a ball. We must be united. We must trust each other, just like our bairnies giving each other signs and signals that all is well. Never think I would do aught to shame you. If I can help you, you have but to call upon me. That is what I meant tonight.”
“Then never put yourself in danger from soldiers. Never do it, Resolute. I would be undone. Our children would be orphans, cast out, for I would meet the headsman for what I should do if you were taken from me.”