Valley Forge (2 page)

"Are you looking forward to going home?" asked Friederike.

"If we ever get there."

"There is no doubt about it, surely?"

"General Burgoyne thinks that there may be," said Elizabeth, face puckered with anxiety. "Since the Americans have already broken some terms of the convention, he's afraid that they will renege on the commitment to send us back to England. If they repatriate us, all that would happen is that one army will be dispatched to replace another."

Friederike was worried. "They will keep us here?"

"It's a possibility. General Burgoyne obtained some important concessions for us, and that will not please Congress. They may feel that the terms of the convention were too benevolent, and will look for an excuse to disregard it completely."

"That's dreadful! Have they no decency?"

"They want to win this war."

Friederike was alarmed. When she brought her family to America, she was convinced that she would be accompanying a victorious army that swept all before it. Instead, she had watched a large force of professional soldiers being cruelly whittled down by death, disease, and desertion until it was a shadow of its former glory. At Bennington, over nine hundred German troops had been lost in a single engagement. In the two battles near Saratoga, some British regiments had been more or less wiped out. Friederike had been confronted by the ugly realities of warfare. They had nauseated her. All that she could think about was taking her husband and children back home.

"This is terrible news, Miss Rainham," she said.

"Let us pray that it never happens."

"They do not show us any respect. It is the same with the people at the house where we stay. They treat us as interlopers, not as guests. The wife is the worst. Whenever we sit down to eat, she combs her children's hair all over our food. It is a revolting habit."

"I told her so," said Elizabeth. "She replied that it was her home and that we were there on sufferance."

Friederike bridled. "That woman is an ogre."

"Her husband is not as bad as her."

"They are poor hosts, Miss Rainham. I cannot wait to leave them."

"We are bound to be allowed home eventually."

"But when will that be?"

Elizabeth was about to reply when she caught sight of a uniform among the trees ahead. Her heart lifted at once. Only one man would come looking for her from the town, and that was Jamie Skoyles. She quickened her step instinctively. Short and dainty, Friederike von Riedesel struggled to keep up with her.

"Wait for me," she called. "What's the hurry?"

Nights were getting colder but at least they had chosen a dry one. As he slipped out of the barracks, Jamie Skoyles looked up at the sky, glad that the moon was largely obscured by cloud. Darkness would aid his escape. He was no longer wearing his uniform. It was folded up neatly in the bag that he was carrying. He had changed into the hunting shirt and breeches that he used on scouting missions. A broad-brimmed hat helped to conceal his face. His only weapon was a long hunting knife. Skoyles moved stealthily through the camp. Guards were on duty but most of them were too busy trying to keep warm to pay any attention to the dark figure that flitted past them. The fugitive was soon clear of Prospect Hill.

His only regret was that Tom Caffrey had not gone with him, but he held no grudge. His friend had his own priorities and Skoyles respected them. They would meet again one day. He felt sure of it. He might have lost the sterling qualities that Caffrey would have brought, but he had gained precious time alone with the woman he loved. Elizabeth Rainham had not hesitated for a moment. When he had asked her to flee with him, she had agreed immediately. It added spice. Flight from imprisonment now took on the aspect of a romantic adventure. Skoyles was stirred.

He made his way to the appointed place as swiftly and furtively as he could. It was a route he had been over a number of times. As soon as arrangements were made, Skoyles had been careful to familiarize himself with the geography of the town by making nocturnal sorties. Buildings looked different
at night. Streets could easily deceive in the gloom. Stray dogs were an additional hazard, but, thankfully, the stiff breeze was keeping them under cover at that hour. Roads, lanes, and alleyways were deserted. Cambridge was fast asleep.

In order to effect her sudden departure, Elizabeth had decided to take a room at a small tavern in the town, and it was toward this that Skoyles hurried. When he reached the place, however, there was no sign of her, and the doors of the tavern were locked. He spent a fruitless ten minutes, pacing up and down outside the building. He could not believe that Elizabeth would let him down. Had she changed her mind? Been delayed in some way? Or had her intentions been discovered and frustrated? That was the most disturbing thought of all.

The sound of footsteps made Skoyles step into a doorway, and his hand went to his knife. Having gone to such trouble to set up the escape, he was not going to be caught now. As the footsteps got closer, he readied himself for attack. When the body was inches away from him, he reached out to pull it into the doorway. One hand was clapped over the newcomer's mouth, the other held a knife to the throat. Elizabeth's cry of fear was muffled. Overcome with relief, Skoyles released her and sheathed his weapon before enfolding her in his arms and hugging her reassuringly. Then he kissed her on her lips to seal their love. Holding her tight, he spoke in whispers.

"Where have you been?"

"I could not stay here," she told him. "The landlord began to pester me. When he tried to come into my room the third time, I went off and found another place to stay. I'm sorry if I kept you waiting, Jamie."

"You're here now. That's the main thing. How do you feel?"

"I'm shaking like a leaf."

"You've come well wrapped up, I see."

"And I've brought very little with me."

"We must travel light."

Elizabeth was wearing a dark cloak over her dress, and the hood was pulled up. As well as clothing and money, her leather satchel contained a few items of food that she had managed to save. Eager to accompany Skoyles, she had been sad to leave her maid behind.

"Nan sends her regards," she said.

"I offered to take her with us, Elizabeth."

"She's terrified of horses and even more frightened of wild animals that we might meet on the way. I hope that you've got something other than that knife to keep them at bay."

"Otis will see to that."

"Otis?"

"Otis Tapper," he explained. "The man from whom I bought the horses. For an additional sum, he agreed to provide me with a musket, a pistol, and ammunition for both." Arm around her shoulders, he eased her forward. "Let's go and find him."

Keeping to the shadows, they headed toward the outskirts of the town, conscious that this was the first time in their lives that they had been truly alone. The only intimate moments they had shared before had been in the middle of an army encampment, and those had, of necessity, been rather snatched. Now they were together, unhampered by the presence of others or by the strict social rules they were obliged to follow. It gave them both a thrill of excitement, but Skoyles made sure that it did not affect his concentration. They had some way to go yet and needed to stay alert. At the slightest sound, they took instant cover. Only when they were sure that it was safe did they move on.

"How did you find this Otis Tapper?" she asked.

"I was given his name by one of the guards."

Elizabeth was surprised. "A guard helped you to escape?"

"No," he replied, "and he'd not have spoken to me if he'd known what was on my mind. I simply asked where I could buy extra food and blankets and a new pair of boots. He said that Otis Tapper could get me anything I wanted—at a price. I went to the tavern where he drinks and sounded him out. Tapper is no loyalist, but he was more than ready to defy his countrymen and give me what I wanted. Horses and guns."

"Did you pay him?"

"Only half of what we agreed. The other half comes on delivery."

"Can you trust him, Jamie?"

"I believe so."

"Which way will we ride?"

"Southwest."

Most women would have blenched at the notion of a daring escape on horseback, but Elizabeth Rainham was not among them. An excellent rider,
she had complete faith in Skoyles and was prepared to take any risk to be with him. He issued a warning.

"There'll be problems," he told her, "and not only from packs of wolves. The countryside is crawling with militia. We'll have to dodge and weave all the way. And we must keep our wits about us, Elizabeth."

"I'll not let you down."

"I know. But we can't sleep rough in this weather."

"We'll need a roof over our heads."

He turned to her. "That means we may have to pose as man and wife," he said softly. "How would you feel about that?"

Her blush went unseen. "Content."

He squeezed her shoulder and they turned down a narrow street.

Otis Tapper had agreed to meet them near a derelict house on the very edge of town. When they got within thirty yards of it, Skoyles halted and moved Elizabeth behind a tree that had shed all of its leaves and was left with a tangle of spectral branches.

"Why have we stopped? she asked.

"We have to wait for the signal."

"What is it?"

"Tapper will wave a lantern twice."

"I hope I haven't delayed you."

"Not at all," he said. "I allowed extra time in case we got held up along the way. We've a little while to wait before he shows up. Cold?" She nodded and he pulled her closer. "We have to escape now. If we held on until winter really sets in, we'd have no chance of getting away."

"The weather was so beautiful when we set out from Canada."

"Things have changed a lot since then, Elizabeth."

"I know. So much loss, so much suffering."

"It will be better when we get to New York. The British army holds sway there. You'll be given proper accommodations at last."

"What about you?"

"I'm a soldier. They'll find plenty of work for me."

Before he could tell her about his ambitions, he heard the clack of hooves in the distance. Horses were approaching, and it was not long before their shapes were conjured out of the darkness. A lantern was waved twice in their direction.

"Tapper is early," he said. "Come and meet him."

Carrying their baggage, they trotted toward the derelict house and saw that two riders awaited them. Each had another horse on a lead rein. Skoyles and Elizabeth were pleased. Their hopes rose. When they reached the waiting men, however, Skoyles did not recognize either of them. It made him wary.

"Where's Otis Tapper?" he asked.

"Waiting for you," replied one of the men. "Follow us."

Skoyles held his ground. "He promised to meet us here."

"Well, he's not able to fulfil that promise right now."

"Who are you?"

"We're the people that own these horses."

"Then hand them over."

"There's no hurry. Come and see Otis first."

The men wheeled their horses and trotted toward a copse nearby. Skoyles and Elizabeth had no option but to follow. They felt at a distinct disadvantage. Skoyles only had his knife, whereas both men were armed with muskets. When the four horses vanished into the trees, the fugitives went slowly after them. They met up again in a clearing. One of the men used his musket to point toward a hazy figure that seemed to be moving to and fro in the wind. It was only when Skoyles and Elizabeth got closer that they realized someone was dangling from the bough of a tree.

"This is Otis Tapper," the man continued with a grim chuckle. "It's where he belongs. We always hang horse thieves."

Elizabeth let out a cry of horror and turned away. Skoyles pulled her to him. There would be no escape that night. The man paid to assist their flight had been summarily killed. When the two riders leveled their muskets, it looked as if Skoyles and Elizabeth were fated to join Otis Tapper in the grave. The bigger of the two men cleared his throat and spat on the ground before speaking.

"Stealing horses is a crime," he said, "and you were party to it. So let's start by having the rest of the money you were going to pay for our animals." His voice hardened. "Hand it over." Skoyles hesitated. "Do I have to shoot you to get what's owed to us?"

"Give it to him," Elizabeth begged, clinging to Skoyles's arm.

"I will," he said.

Skoyles pretended to comply with the order. Stepping forward, he reached
inside his bag as if about to extract money. Without warning, he then swung the bag hard to knock the bigger man's musket from his grasp, then he reached up to haul him from the saddle. The other man fired at Skoyles but the musket ball missed him. The sudden noise made the three riderless horses bolt. Skoyles, meanwhile, grabbed the fallen weapon and used its butt to pound the man on the ground until he was senseless. Elizabeth could not bear to watch. Having disposed of one man, Skoyles turned to deal with the other and pointed his loaded weapon. It was enough to frighten him away. Pulling his mount in a half circle, the man used his heels to kick the horse into a canter. He was out of sight in seconds. Skoyles discarded the musket, picked up his bag, then glanced up sadly at the body of Otis Tapper, still swinging in the breeze. The captain had made a bargain with the wrong man.

"Run!" he said, taking Elizabeth's arm. "Run!"

CHAPTER TWO

T
hough they spent St. Andrew's Day in captivity, the tattered remnants of the defeated British army were determined to celebrate the occasion. A quarter of the common soldiers who bore arms for King and Country in the American war hailed from Scotland, and while many served in such quintessentially Scottish regiments as the Black Watch or Fraser's Highlanders, several were scattered throughout other regiments. The 24th Foot had its fair share of them, and they desperately needed something to relieve the boredom and discomfort of their imprisonment. When they gathered in Morland's Tavern to toast their patron saint, therefore, they were in high spirits.