TWINS
Annabelle's face when Aaron walked into the tent was worth anything Harold could give. They were twins; and they had been apart far too long. He embraced his sister, a wide grin on his face. Annabelle was too shocked to say much for a moment, but when she finally did, she gave him a little push.
“I should have known,” she grinned. “This is exactly like you.”
“Look, I just wanted to see the colonies,” Aaron said with a grin. “It is not my fault you two decided to follow me. But this is brilliant, isn't it? We'll have an adventure.”
Annabelle quirked an eyebrow. “If that is what you want to call it, yes, brother, we can have an adventure. Not quite the kind of adventure we planned on having as children, is it?”
“I do not know,” he shrugged. “We did play pirates a lot. And now I am one, so really, it is exactly the kind of adventure.”
“Should I leave you two to catch up?” Harold piped up. “One of us should tell the colonel that his brilliant plan isn't going to work. And I have a feeling that it is going to be me.”
“Of course, my Lord, that is your duty,” Aaron's eyes twinkled. “If you so wish it.”
“Thank you, Aaron,” Harold rolled his eyes as he left the tent. Aaron was right, of course. As the Lord, it was his duty. He supposed he had not quite realized how much was attached to the title until he married Annabelle. He was happy to do his duty; duty was half the reason he breathed. However, having Aaron at his side was surreal, reminding him of the sacrifice that had been made.
He was half hoping that Wesley would be around to do the dirty work, but the Irish first mate had stormed off to somewhere unknown. All that was to be found was the young Captain Jacob, bent over the map. He looked frazzled when Harold entered, and the Lord regretted the next few words out of his mouth. Nevertheless, Jacob did not seem surprised at all.
“I know,” he said. “I knew as soon as he presented it that it was risky. And if I am honest with you, the chances of Enola convincing her people are slim to none. She is...different from the rest of them, even if she is a princess.”
“Should that not give her command of her people?” Harold asked and Jacob sighed.
“Maybe. I do not know. We need to try, at least.”
“I understand your position, Captain,” Harold said. “But our strategist...the first mate...he was the best in the industry when he sailed with the Navy.”
He could not believe that had come tumbling up. Jacob looked up in puzzlement, but to his credit, did not comment on the fact that this pirate was likely a traitor to King and Country.
“Let me talk to her,” he said. “She may have some ideas. She is angry at me at the moment, but she will come around.”
“Of course,” Harold said. “My men will march with yours, have no fear of that. I just need to be confident we are making the best plan for their success.”
“That is good of you,” Jacob answered. “For it seems no matter what plan we make, they will be in danger of losing their lives.”
“Well, of course,” Harold replied. “It is war, after all.”
“Of course,” Jacob said, although he did not sound convinced. “Thank you.”
“Our pleasure,” Harold said, as he ducked out of the tent. It occurred to him that he should probably speak to Holde about this, to make sure they were in agreement. As he scanned the camp, he found Holde at the main camp fire, his sergeant at his side. To Harold's surprise, he also found Enola, stirring a pot on the fire and speaking casually.
Enola could see Harold glancing at them, his body language debating whether to attend to them. She decided it was best to keep her head turned away, wondering if the Lord had harsh words over her outburst. Instead, she turned back to the conversation that Holde and Horner were having about their journey the previous day.
“Rain for a good part of the day and night,” Holde was saying. “I never wished for any kind of magic, but somewhere around three this afternoon, I hoped for just a lick of it, to bring out the sun. It was miserable.”
“There is something to be done for that,” she said, turning to him and catching his eye. “I could teach you.”
“How to make it a sunny day?” he asked, with a smile. “That I would like to learn.”
“What would be a more useful skill, sir,” Horner said, with a smile. “Is if there was a prayer to make the men stop complaining.”
“Ah, that would be useful,” Holde snorted, as Harold approached. Enola turned then, the only one brave enough to look the Lord in the eye. The others cast their gaze downward, as was traditional in society when there was a Lord present.
“Gentlemen,” Harold said. “A moment of your time, Major Holde?”
“Of course,” Holde replied, leaving the two of them. It was only once he was gone that Horner spoke up.
“Thank you,” he said and Enola was confused.
“For what?”
“I have not seen him smile in quite awhile. I thought all hope was lost, and then we get here, and things seem to be...different.”
“Because of his wife?” she asked and Horner looked surprised.
“Yes. He told you.”
“I guessed,” she replied. “I have seen grief before, on men, and he wears it on his sleeve. It was a love match then?”
“Yes,” Horner answered. “Very much so.”
“A luxury, then,” she replied and he cocked his head.
“Are your people not allowed to marry for love, then?”
“We are,” she replied. “Very much so. But I know many British men are not. And I am the daughter of the chief, so...”
“I see,” Horner replied. “So things are a bit more...precarious?”
“Uh...” Enola struggled for the English translation. “I am free to do as I choose, but it does not mean my family does not have to approve.”
He laughed at that. “Well, that is the same anywhere, Miss, with all due respect. Some of us just are more bound to it than others.”
“Regardless,” Enola said. “His grief still stands out.”
“Aye,” Horner said. “That it does. When she died, I thought he would never recover from it. He certainly has no ideas to marry again, like some men.”
“Not marrying is smart for women,” Enola blurted out before she could think. Once the thought was on the ground, she could not stop herself from having the rest tumble out. “They lose their independence, they lose their control.”
To her surprise, Horner took that well. “Aye,” he said. “But are you not in the same position before you are married as well? Your father is in charge of you.”
“My father is miles away,” Enola answered.
“Then your brother.”
“Jacob does not....” She paused, realizing that was not true. He did often tell her to hold her tongue, but that was usually, if she was honest, when she deserved it. Hanging onto Jacob's side was much better than the life she had come from. “Maybe. Sometimes. He does it because he wants us both to safe though. When the war started, I knew I had to be involved, I had to help...and the way I could do it was at his side.”
“From camp to camp?”
“Battle to battle, waiting for the injured, the dying, and the dead,” she answered. “I am no stranger to grief. But this way, at least I am free.”
“Well, we appreciate your help,” Horner said. “This war needs as much help as it can receive”
“I figured that when I saw even the nobles come to assist,” Enola replied as Major Holde returned to them.
“Well?” Horner asked. “What did the Lord have to say?”
Holde sighed, glancing at Enola. “I suppose you should know since you are involved. The higher ups think that without the Native cooperation, there is no plan. We cannot take the American forces with the numbers that we are being given.”
Enola looked away. “So it all rests on my shoulders.”
“With all due respect, Miss,” Holde replied. “It does. But perhaps we should take the Americans anyway.”
“Sir, that is certain death,” Horner said and Holde shrugged.
“So it may be. But we always knew that would be a possibility.”
Enola could not help but glance at him as he said that. His heart was so heavy and her heart broke for him. “There will be a way,” she said. “I just have to think.”
“This battle should not be on your shoulders,” Holde said to her and she met his eyes with fire.
“Why not? Is it not as much my people, my land, my country, as any of yours? If not more so?”
To that, he had nothing to say and lowered his gaze. “Quite right, Princess.”
It did not infuriate her as much as when Jacob said it, but she did not exactly appreciate it.
That night, long after everyone had settled into bed, she crossed the camp, pulling aside the thick curtain to Jacob's large white tent.
He was sitting at his desk, hunched over and writing by candlelight. He did not even look up when she came in. “By all means, waltz right in,” he said and she rolled her eyes.
“Please, Jacob, if we have not stopped invading each other’s space by now, we probably will not,” she sat on his bed as he put down his quill and turned to her.
“What is it, Enola?” he asked, trying to be patient.
“This plan,” she said. “This plan depends on me.”
“I know it does,” he said. “But as you may have heard, the rumors going around the camp say that there isn't a better one. Or even another one. Not unless the pirate or the Navy, or even Major Holde's ragtag sharpshooters have about 100 friends to lend us.”
“You might lose the pirates too,” she said. “Their Captain is better now, but who’s to say that is for long. If he falls ill again, then what? Will they still follow him?”
“They will follow the first mate,” Jacob answered. “They used to be Navy.”
“What?” That made her arch an eyebrow.
“Lord Bamber told me,” Jacob replied. “He let it slip; I think they used to work together. I do not think it is sinister, but there is some deeper reason why they are not....still there.”
“Whatever the reason does not matter,” Enola said. “People can still be loyal to their roots, even if they are on a slightly different path."
“Like you,” Jacob said softly, and Enola sighed.
“You can always see right through me.”
“I can,” Jacob said. “We have been friends since we were children. Even now, I can see that you are a thousand miles away.”
“Going back to them,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Wearing British clothes, with all of you on my tail, and asking them for help when I saw your cause as more than just their choice for peace...looking my father in the eye... do you know what you ask of me?”
“Do you want us to live, Enola?” Jacob asked, softly but plainly.
“Of course,” she said.
“Then you know it must be done,” he said. “Death does not discriminate, Princess. Native, white or black, it will come for us in the form of American guns if we do not do something.”
“I know,” she said softly. Nevertheless, she did not know what she could do.