Fellowship & Fairydust

I have long feared that my sins would come back to haunt me, and the cost is more than I can bear.

God does not let the evil go unpunished; He is a God of justice, and justice He will have.

My fears became reality on that day, nay, in that one hour. That precious hour which marked my judgment and left me scarred.

In Charles Towne, I had said that our children would learn of the war with their own eyes. Mine were the first to learn, I felt. When those words of seeming prophecy, the foreshadowing of the near future of the Colonies left my lips, I realized that no matter what I did, there was no turning back.

I had raised my children as best as I could after their mother died, praying that they would grow up unlike me. I reared them, trained them, and disciplined them without wavering. They were obedient and steadfast, with a strong belief in God’s sovereignty over all things. Still, no amount of discipline could withhold my stubbornness from seeping through their childish spirits. I thought that I had control, but in that hour, my perfect world was thrown to the wind and I could not save myself.

Forgive me, O Lord.

I assisted both the Redcoats and the Continentals after the skirmish near my house, praying for leniency from the commander in charge. All were tended to, cared for, and treated for all wounds. I had control. When that man, Colonel Tavington, took Gabriel captive, I prayed. The colonel might have released him, had Gabriel not made a grave mistake. He called me father.

Father.

It was barely audible, spoken through pursed lips, scarcely a whisper, but the colonel’s ears snatched the word up like a fox. Father.

Smiling a sickly, serpentine smile, the colonel turned to me. “Oh. He’s your son.”

My hands began to shake. My insides were boiling, my mind running a marathon faster than anyone ever could as I turned my eyes to the colonel, the snake. I reminded him of the rules, praying that he had a sense of decency. When morals did not work, I was reduced to mere pleading. None of this swayed Colonel Tavington. I stepped back in defeat.

Then Thomas, brave, foolish Thomas, bolted forward in a courageous but doomed attempt to free his brother. In a moment, though it is forever branded upon my memory, the colonel lifted his hand, cocked his pistol, and fired into Thomas’s back.

The boy’s hands went up as he keeled over, frozen from the pain. His scream I shall never forget. I rushed forward, cradling him in my arms. My family huddled around the two of us, crying, sobbing, distraught. Thomas’s face was ashen against my fingers, his eyes slowly losing the light of life.

The colonel pushed his horse forward two paces to look down upon our little scene.

“Stupid boy.”

I glanced down at Thomas, now growing cold in my hands. The Dragoons were shooting the wounded enemies, killing them in cold blood. Rage welled up inside of me as I clutched my son to my chest.

The toxic perfume of smoke blew all around us; the house was on fire, the barns ablaze. Screams filled the air, mixing with the crackling of the fire and the diminishing hoof beats of the soldiers who were taking Gabriel away.

I could control myself no longer. The rage, the sheer anger inside of me burned my heart more than the fire around me. Instructing the children to stay put, I sprinted into the house, up the stairs, and into the Room. I had always used the Room to punish myself, to remind myself of what I had done. Now, the only thought on my mind was what I was about to do. Grabbing the guns and pistol, I retrieved the tomahawk from the chest. Slinging all over my shoulder, I rushed out of the wreckage of my once controlled world.

What a fright I must have given my children as I emerged from the flames, smudged, unkempt, and carrying more weapons than they had ever seen on my person before. The thought did not cross my mind then. I barked for Samuel and Nathan to rise, handed them each a rifle, and gave instructions to Sarah with short, urgent breaths.

With that, my two sons and I raced into the forest, overtaking the logs and trunks with ease as we had done so many times before. Only this time, we had a purpose other than fishing. We stopped by a fallen log near the dirt road.

“Boys, what did I tell you about shooting?”

I was thankful that I had taught them how to handle a rifle and that they were both good marksmen. Nathan looked at me and answered the affirmative; Samuel only whimpered. I whispered a few last minute instructions and ran off again, looking for a good spot to open fire.

All that took place after the first shot is a blur to me. I remember feeling at one with the forest, fluidly jumping from one tree to the next. I remember the rush that hit me as I shot each one of the soldiers dead. I remember running into their midst screaming like a wild banshee, wielding my tomahawk. The world slowed down as I caught the last one running away. My tomahawk flew through the air with perfect accuracy, embedding itself deep in the soldier’s back. He fell into the creek. Somehow his instantaneous death was not enough; it was not painful enough to satisfy me. I leapt to his side, pulled my weapon out and let it fall again and again into his skull, taking out all my anger, frustration, and fury on this one soldier. His blood mixed with that of the river, splashing my face, covering my entire body. Still, I kept on until my strength gave out.

I saw what I had done; his head was a pulp, the water turning to blood and flowing downstream as it passed us. I lifted my face heavenward as the sun filtered through the trees, warming my blood-covered head. My eyes alighted on my children. Gabriel, Nathan, and Samuel; they were all staring, terrified as if they had never seen me before. In that moment, the tears began to fall and I looked skyward once again.

O, Lord, forgive me.

That night, I was saying goodnight to Nathan, trying to justify bringing him into my act of vengeance.

“You did nothing wrong; you did what I told you.”

His response shook my inner being. “I’m glad I killed those men. I’m glad.”

I kissed his forehead and left the room, turning to Samuel’s doorway. I murmured his name, but he whimpered and faced away.

What had I done? I had tried so hard to avoid the cost of my acts at Fort Wilderness, I was repaid, and I wreaked vengeance once more. The price of my second revenge had cost me the trust that Samuel had in me; he now lived in fear. And what would Nathan do? He had savored the taste of revenge. What would he do when he was older; who would he become because of my recklessness, leading him into the paths of my own sins? I could only pray.

O, Lord, forgive me.