The Strength of a High and Noble Hill (An Outlander Story)

Chapter 51: Caught With Your Pants Down

May 1771

The time had come for a moment they all dread, having to face the Regulators or, more specifically, Murtagh. Lizzie, Jemmy, and Ellen are staying in Hillsborough at the Sherstons' while Brian, Roger, Da and Mama join the militia, Fraser's company, where they camp with the rest of the regiment at Alamance.

They'd been a bit lost on the outcome of this event. Brian and Ellen have no recollection of this event from any of the history books on the revolution despite Ellen's uncompleted degree in History. They had read about the Boston Massacre but never this. Not a word about Governor Tryon, or North Carolina, or a place called Alamance. Ellen had been arguing that it can only mean that there will not be a battle as if there is a big battle, someone would have written something about it and nobody has.

Brian hopes that she is right. They are no more than four years from the outbreak of the Revolution; even the minor skirmishes preceding that conflict are well-known. The Boston Massacre had happened a little more than a year before. It had been reported, with a good deal of fierce editorialising, in one of the Boston newspapers. He had seen it, in Jocasta's parlour; one of her friends had sent her a copy. And two hundred years later, that brief incident is immortalised in children's textbooks, evidence of the rising disaffection of the Colonists.

Everyone's tense, not knowing when it'll all happen. That is the question, all right. Rumours have flown around them like a tornado, all the way from Fraser's Ridge. The Regulators have ten thousand men, who are marching in a body upon New Bern. General Gage is sailing from New York with a regiment of official troops, cannons and guns to subdue the Colony. The Orange County militia have rioted and killed their officers. Half the Wake County men have deserted. Hermon Husband has been arrested and spirited onto a ship, to be taken to London for trial on charges of treason. Hillsborough has been taken by the Regulators, who are preparing to fire the town and put Edmund Fanning and all his associates to the sword. Brian hopes that one isn't true—or if it is, that Hubert Sherston was not one of Fanning's allies for Lizzie, Jemmy, and Ellen's sake. Sorting through the mass of hearsay, supposition, and sheer wild invention, the only fact of which they can be sure appears to be that Governor Tryon is preparing them all for a fight and does not appear ready to back down.

It doesn't help that Isaiah Morton then returns to the militia, much to the dismay of the Browns who still want Alicia back. Mama had tried to insist Alicia made her own choice, but that didn't go over well with 18th century patriarchy. Morton wanted to repay Brian for helping him and Alicia, so they tried to convince the Browns to accept another man willing to lay down his life. Da tells them they can go if they won't fight alongside them – so they begrudgingly agree to let the unpleasantness go.

As Brian watches his Da talk to the young Findlay boys, teaching them the differences between hunting and war and to focus on killing as the only way to defend themselves. The boys soak up his advice like sponges.

He knows his Da is worried and anxious. They had seen the weapons that the regiment has and the comparison to the fact that the Regulators are not as well equipped as the English army is terrifying. Colonel Chadwick has also been a nightmare. The man seems to counterpoint Da at every turn as they advise Governor Tryon. Every time Da tries to get Tryon to proceed with caution, or even stop the fight, Chadwick is aggressive and stimulates him.

Surely, if there is to be a major battle here, a Royal Governor putting down what is essentially a taxpayer rebellion, that will be worth noting. Still, that is theory. And Brian is uneasily aware that neither warfare nor history take much account of what should happen. He's never been in a war before; he'd spent his time protesting against one happening. But here he is, Captain Fraser, son of Colonel Fraser, reporting to Governor Tryon, an English colonist. Brian knows Roger is in a similar boat, but for him, he's recalling the loss of his father to war and not wanting the same for his own son.

As the thought passes through Brian's mind, he freezes when he spots a familiar tall man with a thin, wiry build and black hair lurking at the edge of camp. It is only when the face turns and Brian's blue eyes meet a familiar blue, does he realise it's Brynmor Jones complete with the high cheekbones.

Brian strides over to him and gawps at him like a fish. "W–what are you doing here?"

Brynmor shrugs with a smirk. "What? You didn't think I'd miss a fight, did you?"

"More that you're in this camp and not in the opposing one." Brian retorts lightly blushing.

"A man can be versatile." Is said with a pointed raised eyebrow.

Brian blushes a deeper red, looking down. Doesn't he know it. "Really, why are you here?"

Brynmor sighs reluctantly before asking, "Why do you think?"

"Information." Brian realises, eyes flickering over his shoulder in panic and worry for the man in front of him. "You want to get information on the regiment."

Brynmor, for the first time, looks hesitant and worried. "You won't give me away, would you? You can't seriously support what our supposed Governor is doing?"

"Of course not," Brian assures him vehemently. "To both."

Brynmor smiles, relaxing. "So... I didn't come here just for information."

Brian's heart skips. "No?"

"No." Brynmor replies. "I came to see you."

Brian looks around, Da's with the Findlay boys and Mama is in another tent set up as an infirmary. Realising everyone is occupied, Brian grabs Brynmor's arm and drags him into his tent. The man chuckles behind him.

——

"Brian? The troops begin' te move. Yer mother is—"

Brian freezes as he hears his father's voice suddenly cut off behind him. Brynmor sits on the table, Brian pressing into his front with his undone pants slung low on his waist or Brynmor's hand gripping his shoulder. Brian feels Brynmor tense against him, going completely, lifelessly still. His hands are clutched in Brian's shirt, tight enough to hurt and his breathing had picked up to desperate. He is blocking most of Brynmor from sight but Da must see how the legs, wrapped around his waist, are distinctly male.

Brian can feel his throat closing up, his chest pounding. Please, he internally begs, please just leave. Please just pretend you didn't see anything. But Da doesn't move and neither do they and the light spilling in from the outside is begging for more witnesses. Brynmor shifts his body and slowly unclench his hands. The table groans underneath him and snaps everyone out of their stand off.

"Wha' the– cac, Brian? Wha' in the devils name are ye doin'?"

His father's face is one of complete befuddlement as he stares at them, mostly Brian who – he realises – hasn't stepped away from Brynmor, hasn't tried to run, just frozen. Brynmor has kept his hand on Brian's shoulder. It certainly doesn't seem like anything other than a passionate tryst.

"Wha' are ye two doin'?" Da speaks in a way that makes it sound like he knows the answer but can't believe it. Or doesn't want to. He is faced with his son and an acquaintance in a tent and he has zero idea how to handle it. Da takes a step back, ready to flee.

"Da, please, wait." Brian pleads, turning his body slightly toward his father.

Da turns tail and flees.

——

A/N: cac = shit

Literally