Of Wildflowers and Gunpowder

Chapter 7

I could feel the stares coming from the British soldiers as André led me towards the gallows where everything was prepared for Nathan Hale's execution. I was shaking.
A few minutes later, Hale was brought before the small crowd. Drumbeats echoed with every step he took and I blinked back tears. He calmly stepped onto the ladder, the noose tied around his neck. He caught my eye and nodded slightly, a grim but peaceful expression on his face.
     Be brave, I mouthed silently, and André noticed. Hale's blond curls blew softly in the breeze and his young, bright eyes didn't gleam like they used to.
     I thought about when I first met him in New Haven, arm in arm with his best friend Benjamin Tallmadge. He was so passionate, so excited about life, and so intelligent. So drunk, as well. Benjamin would be devastated when he heard the news.
     After the declaration of his sentence, there was silence, broken only by the chirping of birds and shuffling of leaves. Then the ladder fell, and Nathan began to hang.
     I tensed when he fell, stifled a sob and leaned on Major André who surveyed the scene unmovably but with a twinge of sadness in his eyes.
     As he struggled for his last breaths, I looked away, pulling the cloak André had given me closer. The event ended abruptly, and everyone dispersed quickly to go about their business.
I took a deep breath, wiped the tears from my eyes, and followed Major André back towards his tent, closer to the New York Harbor side of Brooklyn.
He offered his arm out for me and I took it, grateful for the support on my aching side.  
     "How well did you know Nathan Hale?" He asked absentmindedly, nodding to a soldier who saluted him as we passed.
"We spoke more through letters than in person; he was always gone on 'business,' he liked to call it. He was Benjamin Tallmadge's best friend, you know, the one I wrote to? Nathan and I were the same age and I have heard many stories of his adventures at Yale. Never have I seen a man as passionate to do something good. He longed for a legacy...."
I trailed off, thinking about Benjamin hearing the news of my death and Nathan's just days away from each other.
     The British encampment was sprawled over Brooklyn like a blanket, campfires dotting the land and the sounds of thousands of bored and pensive men echoing softly through the trees.
A few minutes later, we arrived at his tent just as the sun was beginning to set, casting a dim golden glow over everything and making me ache with homesickness.
"Ah, Miss Adams!"
     I jumped back at the sound of Simcoe's voice, and turned to see him with a smug grin on his face. The wrath of every encounter he had experienced with Benjamin was about to be poured out on me.
Instantly, I felt a pit in my stomach grow as he said, "Now that Major André has been tragically called away from camp, I have reluctantly stepped up to the task of watching over you. Major, thank you for your efforts, I can take it from here."
André glanced at me and pursed his lips, gently turning on his heel and walking away, obviously seething at Simcoe's display.
     He looked back at me with a worried expression and I nodded back, letting him know that I would be okay. I wanted to hurt Simcoe almost as much as he wanted to hurt me.
     Once inside André's tent, Simcoe set his bag down carelessly on the desk, causing papers, maps, and letters to fly everywhere.
     I cringed and bent down to pick them up, holding my side in pain. As I reached up and set them back on the organized desk in a stack, he shoved them back off and began to unpack his bag.
I sighed quietly and left them alone, not wanting to provoke Simcoe. Sitting on the edge of my cot, I watched him with my arms crossed, frustrated and terrified of what he might do to me.
My thoughts lingered on Benedict Arnold and everyone at West Point. I was quite certain that Washington wasn't there, he must be at his headquarters in New Jersey, but I knew Benjamin was scheduled to arrive at the fort sometime this evening. Perhaps he had heard of Nathan's disappearance, and the delay would spare his life.
     I was still incredulous that Arnold was a traitor. His ego was obnoxious and he had plenty of issues, but I would never have guessed that he would betray his army in this way. He was a war hero.
"Are you and Tallmadge married?" Simcoe, mused, opening a large bottle of whiskey and unwrapping his meat ration. I shook my head and hid a smile at the thought.
     "But you certainly are close with him; he convinced you to be a spy for the Rebels. I suppose that when he hears of your death he will be upset. But he will move on," he said, glancing at me to see how I would respond, "He will forget soon enough everything that has happened and find someone else. Someone he will marry and live with for the rest of his life. They will be so happy together, I am sure. Maybe he'll visit your grave once or twice in the beginning but after that, he will have no use for your memory, no use for thoughts of someone he can never have or longings for something he has lost forever. That sure is sad, isn't it?"
     I didn't even acknowledge his attempts to break down my constitution with a glance. But the thought still rang in my mind. Would Benjamin still love me, or at least the idea of me? Or would I become a distant memory, something that once was but quickly replaced with something better?
"I'll retire to sleep now," I muttered, pulling the quilt close and laying down. Only two more nights, I thought.

SHOUTOUT TO DeathbyDeathAKAMe  FOR BEING THE BEST READER/EDITOR THAT EVER EXISTED !!