Outlander (2014) s08e04 Episode Script

1
- Previously
- You don't intend to live your life
in order to please other
people's expectations.
May I call you by your Christian name?
Why, yes.
It's Elspeth.
And I'm Claire.
All I'm asking is that
you contact this Claudel fellow
- and encourage him to meet with me.
- I'll consider it.
Ye think Frank is torturing you?
I just don't know
what's real or not anymore.
Rob Cameron.
He read my guide
for time travel by accident.
No one on the Ridge
kens of this gold's existence.
Canna let them find out.
Daddy's book warns of a battle
coming to the backcountry.
We're gonna need a lot more
than just a few hunting rifles,
and Savannah is the place to get them.
Lord John Grey included
a letter of safe passage
with his invitation.
You're raising a Loyalist militia
- on my land.
- I am.
You are sorely mistaken
if you think I will allow it!
I've reconsidered your plan
to get guns to arm the Ridge.
It'll still be dangerous,
but Randall's book says
the battle to end the siege of Savannah
will be on the ninth of October.
Continentals will fail.
The battle will be bloody, but
it willna reach the center of the city.
So if you wait out the fighting there,
you should be safe enough,
as will Fergus, Marsali.
And the children can stay here
with us, of course.
Take this to Lieutenant Colonel
Francis Marion.
The book says he'll be
with the Continental Army
in Savannah.
He has a great deal
of experience with militias.
Might be keen to arm men
from the backcountry.
So we're starting our own militia?
Oh, it's that,
or we join Benjamin Cleveland
and his Overmountain Men.
I'll be damned if I'll report
back to that murdering bastard.
You'd think it'd at least
have the decency to shine,
like in a film.
Um, what about bandits?
Do you want to make it into musket balls
- like you did the last time?
- No.
There's no time.
But I do have an idea.
Sing me a song ♪
Of a lass that is gone ♪
Say, could that lass ♪
Be I? ♪
Merry of soul ♪
She sailed on a day ♪
Over the sea ♪
To Skye ♪
Billow and breeze ♪
Islands and seas ♪
Mountains of rain ♪
And sun ♪
All that was good ♪
All that was fair ♪
All that was me ♪
Is gone ♪
Sing me a song ♪
Of a lass that is gone ♪
Say, could that lass ♪
Be I? ♪
Merry of soul ♪
She sailed on a day ♪
Over ♪
The sea ♪
To Skye ♪
What is that abominable smell?
It's a wee gift from Jamie and Claire.
It's sauerkraut.
Oh, ho, ho, ho.
Magnifique!
The whiskey, eh? Not the stench.
It was Da's idea. Perfect hiding place.
Mm, thank you.
Gold?
It's for muskets.
Jamie's forming a militia.
And there's an officer
in the Continental camp,
Francis Marion
who's been known to arm
backcountry patriots.
We thought it best
to leave this minor detail
out of our letter to you.
I don't imagine you intend
to traipse into an army camp
with a king's ransom in bullion?
No.
I don't want to invite any trouble,
nor do I expect Marion will have crates
of guns just lying around the camp
that he can readily part with.
Arrangements will have to be made.
- So we were hoping you could
- Aye.
Course you can leave the gold wi' us.
Fergus has got plenty of hiding places.
I wouldn't be surprised
if you found the crown jewels.
- It shouldn't be for long.
- It's no trouble.
Now, can we please seal
these barrels tightly
until I can find some Germans
who will eat this?
Let us secrete the gold
and drink to our reunion.
It's been too long since I've tasted
Milord's divine elixir.
To be safe,
do you think you should leave
for the camp now?
Oh, dinna fash.
There's plenty of time to find Marion
and be back before the battle.
A wee dram will speed me on my way.
Cunningham wasn't exaggerating.
I was collecting rents,
trying to ascertain
the loyalties of the settlers
without arousing suspicion.
Most of the families here
are loyal to the Crown,
and those who aren't would be reluctant
to join a militia that oppose it.
I canna try to recruit them
without risking it
getting back to Cunningham.
Surely the Ardsmuir men
will fight when it comes to it.
Ah, of course.
And a few others,
but it willna be enough.
I'll need to recruit men
from further afield.
I leave today with Ian and Josiah.
They ken the outposts
that have cropped up while we were away.
Well, you can't keep
Cunningham waiting forever.
I mean, he's going to realize
that you've no intention of joining him.
Wouldn't it be simpler to just
evict him and be done with it?
If I evict him or even kill him,
someone will replace him
or come to avenge him.
No, it's better if I have him close
so I can keep an eye on him.
Ah.
He told me his commander
is Major Patrick Ferguson.
Frank wrote of the man.
He's the one that formed
the Loyalist militia
that fight at Kings Mountain.
I still am not sure of Frank's motives
in writing that book.
Aye, but what he wrote
it's happening before our eyes.
I met Cleveland,
and now Cunningham
speaks of Major Ferguson.
Well, that's not proof that you fight.
He could be lying.
The book says that
Major Ferguson is vicious,
ruthless on the battlefield and off,
burning the homes of Rebels
without warning,
forcing their allegiance.
I'm not certain I will fight, Claire,
but if Cunningham is forming a militia,
we need to be ready,
regardless of the book.
To muskets, liberty,
and sauerkraut, mes amis.
Slainte.
Mmm.
Strange for a minister and his wife
to smuggle guns, no?
That was Brianna's idea, actually.
The last people
anyone would ever suspect.
And once we get back to the Ridge,
well, our family has a doctor,
a soldier, a minister.
Thought we needed an armorer.
Ah, there's me thinking
you came all this way
to visit us and paint
a wee picture for Lord John.
It happens I recently received
a letter from His Lordship.
He suggested I meet
with one of his associates
Percival Beauchamp.
Are either of you familiar
with this man?
- No.
- Mm-mm.
He claims to have information
that will be of great interest to me.
But Lord John says
he can be a slippery fellow.
I must make up my own mind
whether what he says is trustworthy.
You know, our mother's
maiden name was Beauchamp?
I mean, obviously, the English
pronounce it "bee-cham,"
but that's quite a coincidence.
Merde. Merde!
Cowards!
Merde.
Are you two all right?
I'm-I'm fine. Are you?
Yeah, they didna bother to put
a note on it this time.
"This time?"
What, this has happened before?
Aye, we've had some horrible
threatening letters.
Filth. Bag full of dead rats.
Another with a serpent.
The bastard escaped.
Wait. What is going on?
These days, when
people dinna like the news,
they tend to blame the printer.
Has someone discovered you're Patriots?
Jamie mentioned you'd been
printing for the cause.
The culprit is as likely
to be a Patriot as not.
While, privately, we print
pamphlets for the Rebels,
publicly, we take
a more impartial approach.
Yeah, in trying to not anger one side,
you end up angering both sides.
Just the life of a news printer
in these troubled times.
Ye have any weapons?
Aye, but, uh
just the one rifle
twixt the three of us.
That willna do, not in war
nor hunting,
I wouldna think, but it doesna matter.
I'm expecting a shipment shortly.
When the time comes,
you'll each have your own
musket and shot.
We'll ride with you, Mr. Fraser.
Excellent.
Josiah will take down your names.
- What's your surname?
- Miller.
Uncle.
What is it, lad?
Maybe it's nothing.
I've recruited three more men.
There's this Scottish fellow
over yonder.
And when he heard
I was from Fraser's Ridge,
he-he mentioned
he was heading there himself,
that he kent Roger and Brianna
from Scotland.
He says he's looking for them.
- Cameron.
- Aye.
I'm James Fraser.
I understand you're acquainted
with my daughter, Brianna MacKenzie.
I am. Aye.
You're Robert Cameron, then.
Christ, no, man.
I'm no' Rob Cameron.
My name is William Buccleigh MacKenzie.
Come to tell Roger and Brianna
that Cameron won't be
botherin' them again
and to return Roger's wee book.
Don't want it to fall in
the wrong hands a second time.
Buck McKenzie.
You remind me of your father.
Perhaps when you've finished
painting Lady Grey,
you could paint a portrait
of Marsali and me.
I'd be happy to.
I'll paint the whole family.
Oh, we need to send to Philadelphia
for a canvas big enough.
Don't linger at the Continental camp.
Talk among the merchants
is that a battle is imminent.
I'll return as soon as I'm able.
- Be safe.
- You too.
See you soon.
With any luck, I'll see you both soon.
Good luck.
Do you think houses are alive?
That was the wind.
But, yes.
I think places
that people live in for a time
absorb a little bit of them.
I often think that houses affect
the people living in them,
so why wouldn't it work both ways?
So do you think Amy Lindsay's
still in her cabin,
haunting it?
I don't know about her cabin exactly.
When people die
naturally, the people
they leave behind sense them,
you know, sense
that a part of them is still
with them in a way.
I don't know that I would
call that haunting, though.
It's more like
a memory.
A longing.
I wish Jane would haunt me.
Fanny.
You won't forget her.
And she won't forget you either.
You know, talking about
the people we've lost
can make it seem as though
they're still with us.
Janey used to whisper
"Good night, ma chérie"
before we went to sleep.
She spoke French?
A little.
She said that's what
our mother used to call me,
"ma chérie."
Janey used to tell me
about our parents before bed.
She was trying to help you
keep their memory alive.
She would tell me good things
or funny things,
but we would never talk
about anything serious.
She talked to the other girls
at the brothel.
I know she was trying to protect me.
Sometimes I wish she hadn't.
I better go close that window.
And your little dog too.
What did you say?
Mrs. Cunningham's coming.
Could you show her into the parlor?
I'll be right there.
She's probably come
for the slippery elm powder
I promised her.
Good evening, Mrs. Cunningham.
Do you want to wait
in the parlor, please?
I most certainly will not wait!
I need help!
Frances, chair.
Go get some whiskey, please.
Oh.
What happened?
Fell.
Tripped over the scuttle like a fool
and fell on my shoulder.
Well, don't worry. I can fix it.
I wouldn't have staggered two miles
through buggering brambles
if I didn't think you could!
And where is your son?
Mm.
He's away.
As I thought dislocated.
Fanny
hold her tight here.
That's it.
Elspeth
this is going to hurt.
Mm.
Mm.
All right.
Ready?
Aah!
Grass-combing son of a buggering sod!
What, child?
It's been a long time since
I heard language like that.
Well, if you have to do
with soldiers, young woman,
you acquire their vices
as well as their virtues.
Where, may I ask, did you
hear language like that?
I lived in a brothel.
Indeed.
Well, I suppose whores
also have their virtues
as well as their vices.
I don't know about the virtues,
unless you count being able
to satisfy a man in two minutes
by the clock.
Oh, I-I think that would be
classed as a skill,
rather than a virtue.
Though a useful one, I dare say.
I'm sure everyone has
their strong points.
Fanny, would you go to the kitchen
and make up a plate for Mrs. Cunningham?
You know, I have always wondered
about the term "grass-combing."
Is it actual bad language,
or is it just descriptive?
Well, it usually applies
to someone who is either idle
or incompetent.
Well, why combing grass
should invoke either attribute
is unclear,
but it isn't actually bad language
unless the term "bugger" is applied.
But I've never actually
heard it without "bugger."
You must have heard much more
if you were traveling with the army.
Oh, it's worse than you think.
My first husband was a sailor.
Well, I believe you shocked Fanny,
not with the actual language, but
that it came from a respectable
woman such as you.
Oh, well
women tend to be freer in their speech
when there aren't any men present.
She's a remarkable child.
But you must try
to persuade her not to
She knows not to talk
like that in public,
as I'm sure do you.
But you're free to say
anything you like here tonight,
as I'm not letting you go
back to your cabin
in your condition.
By my condition, whether you
mean injured or inebriated,
I'm not sure,
but in either case, thank you.
William.
Bloody hell, it's you.
Oh, W-William, would you like
to invite our guest in?
She's had quite a long journey.
Forgive me, Mrs. MacKenzie.
The unexpected pleasure
of seeing you again
has caused me to forget myself.
I was delighted when you accepted
my invitation, my dear.
I was beginning to fear
I'd never see you again.
Feels like a lifetime
since we all met.
Allow me to introduce
Amaranthus, Viscountess Grey,
my late nephew's widow.
Pleasure.
I'm sorry for your loss.
Lord John mentioned he'd sent
for a portrait painter.
Didn't realize it would be a woman.
You must be very skilled
for him to ask you to come.
- Where is it you traveled from?
- North Carolina.
Oh, surely you did not
undertake the journey alone?
I was under the impression
that your husband
would be accompanying you.
Ah, he did, but he's currently, uh,
attending to an errand outside the city.
It-it's time for Trevor's bedtime feed.
It was a pleasure, Mrs. MacKenzie.
Yes, well, uh, various important matters
require my attention,
so I will leave you two
to become reacquainted.
You came from North Carolina?
Last we met, you were
on your way to Boston.
These are dangerous times.
We thought it best to be with family,
so we returned to Fraser's Ridge.
You must have met Fanny, then.
Is she well?
Yes, she is.
My mother has taken
quite a liking to her.
So has my father.
Well, I mean, our father.
Did you know?
The day we met in Wilmington,
did you know what we were to each other?
I did.
I wanted to tell you.
Roger, my husband, was with me.
He was just around the corner
at the inn
and my children, Jem and Mandy.
I
really wanted you to meet them
even if you didn't know we were
well
yours.
Mine?
I should probably say something polite,
like, only if you want us, but thats
A bit late for that
to lie about the truth, I mean.
I do apologize for not telling you.
But Lord John and Da felt so strongly
It wasn't my place.
I accept your apology.
Though, in all honesty,
I'm glad you didn't tell me.
I- I wouldn't have known how to respond
to such a revelation at the time.
Hmm.
And you do now?
No, I bloody don't.
But I haven't blown my brains out.
When I was eighteen, I might have.
I apologize.
I- I didn't mean that
with any derogatory reference
to you or your family.
Your family, you mean.
Thank you for coming, Monsieur Fraser.
Allow me to send for wine.
Ooh, no, thank you.
I came to hear what you have to say,
but I must get back to my work.
Very well then, sir.
I'll get right to it.
I wish to acquaint you
with the facts of your birth
facts I think you do not know.
Have you heard of a man by the name
of le Comte St. Germain?
Why?
You are his son.
I'm sure you have an explanation
as to how you came to this
preposterous conclusion.
As you may have surmised,
I am not French myself.
I have, however, married into
a prestigious French family.
My wife is the sister
of the Baron Amandine.
And as with any old dynasty,
there is a sordid family secret.
Many years ago, my wife's older sister
began a torrid affair with the Comte
and, not long after, disappeared,
fled into the night with her jewels
and, they supposed,
into the arms of another lover.
I take it you wish me to believe
I'm the result of this tryst?
Perhaps the name
of the woman in question
will convince you.
Amélie LeVigne Beauchamp.
Yes.
Yes, she is dead.
You may continue.
A few years ago, I uncovered the truth
from one of the Comte's servants.
Amélie did not run away with a lover.
The Comte simply grew weary of her
and, learning she was pregnant,
lured her away from home,
drugged her with opium,
and sold her to a brothel.
Maison Elise.
That is where she gave birth to a child.
You.
And Monsieur le Comte?
He was last seen
more than thirty years ago.
And while no body was found,
the circumstances of his disappearance
were so mysterious
that a magistrate declared him deceased.
His estate is currently held in trust
by his solicitor in Paris,
but it would undoubtedly be released
should a petition be filed by his heir.
Unless the law in France
has changed of late,
a bastard cannot inherit property, so
Claudel.
If I may use your original name.
You may not, sir.
Very well.
I found this
hidden in the pages
of a dusty family Bible.
I'm quite certain
I'm the only one living
who knows of its existence.
It is a contract of marriage.
It appears
Amélie relinquished her virtue
at a high price
by demanding
the Comte marry her in secret
before welcoming him to her bed.
Allow me to congratulate you, sir.
You are not a bastard.
Assuming the document isn't forged,
plainly, you have something
you want out of this.
Something Monsieur le Comte's
heir might accomplish for you?
Le Comte St. Germain owned
his estate still does own
a majority of the stock of a syndicate
investing in land in the New World,
the main asset of which
is a large parcel
in what is known as the Old Northwest.
Some
interests of mine in Paris
believe that while
Britain is preoccupied
with this rebellion,
there is an opportunity
to establish a French colony
on the land with French settlers.
Unfortunately, le Comte's solicitor
refuses to sell the stock at any price.
But if a legitimate heir were to appear,
the land would become his.
And my associates would pay
said heir a significant sum
for said land.
A significant sum.
Have I done something to offend you?
I'm simply trying to enjoy
my literature in solitude.
Should you require company,
perhaps Mrs. MacKenzie will oblige you.
Lady Grey, are you jealous?
Don't be absurd.
Though anyone with eyes can see
that there's a history
between the two of you.
I suppose you're right.
She is a person of some
significance in my life.
Please. I thought we
It doesn't matter.
I was foolish.
Ms. MacKenzie, Brianna, is my sister.
You told me you didn't have
any siblings.
I'm a bastard.
Well, I'm not legally a bastard,
since the Eighth Earl of Ellesmere
and my mother were married
when I was born.
But the Eighth Earl was not my father.
The man who sired me was
is Brianna's father.
Well
whoever he was, he must have been a-
a very striking gentleman.
He is.
Has he acknowledged you?
Not publicly, no.
Nor do I want him to.
He, uh-he owes me nothing.
I'm only telling you this
because you asked.
Because I enjoy your company.
May I be so bold
as to presume you enjoy mine?
That is bold
though perhaps not incorrect.
Well
I think it's only fair
one comprehends the person
whose company one is enjoying.
I am not the Ninth Earl of Ellesmere
not really.
I never was.
Of late, I've found myself
wishing I could renounce
the damn title altogether
though English law makes that
all but impossible.
Well, you may not be
able to renounce it,
but you could hand it on
abdicate in favor of your heir, I mean.
I don't have an heir.
Well, you could marry me
and give it to our firstborn.
I'm a widow, after all.
We could retire into private life
and breed dachshunds.
I can't imagine anything more tiresome.
Surely you don't mean to imply
that being married to me
would be tiresome, William.
You might just possibly enjoy it.
Thank you, Amaranthus,
for not thinking less of me.
As I've told you,
I'm the daughter
of F. Cowden, bookseller.
That's all my father is to the world.
I thought I would be a merchant's wife.
But now I am Viscountess Grey.
And my son will be the Duke of Pardloe.
While you may disagree,
I believe a title is
something you simply have,
not something you are.
By law, you are the Earl of Ellesmere.
That's all the world needs to know.
But you're not only that, William,
not to me.
How's the pain?
In my shoulder or my head?
Both, I suppose.
Bearable.
Though I wish the girl would
refrain from slamming doors.
Oh, that's not Fanny.
She's taking milk
over to Evan Lindsay's.
Then who?
Houses make sounds, Elspeth.
And all I know is that
when the wind is in the east,
ours makes that particular
noise from the attic.
Why build an attic in the first place?
Because my husband is
the Fraser of Fraser's Ridge.
If there should ever be
any kind of emergency
that causes our tenants
to have to leave their home,
well, then they can
take refuge here with us.
And what kind of an emergency
might that be?
Your son
do you believe what he says about
My grandson's death?
Yes, I do believe him.
It is a comfort.
I was thinking specifically about
what he said to him,
that he, your grandson,
would see Charles again
in seven years' time.
Do you believe that?
I only know that he believes it.
Good day, Mrs. Fraser.
I'm here to collect my mother.
I'll help her get her things.
No need. I'll do it myself.
You'll find her through here.
Mother, are you well?
I heard that you were injured.
Yes, my shoulder,
but Mrs. Fraser was able to heal it
quite satisfactorily.
She's been most hospitable.
I've enjoyed the company.
Her husband's away
at the moment on business.
Is he?
I had wondered.
He's a hard man to pin down,
your husband.
We had been meaning to talk
or so I thought.
Well, he's anxious
to speak with you too.
But this business couldn't wait.
Well
I thank you, ma'am, for the care
you've shown my mother.
She should be fully recovered
within a week or so.
But, uh, here are some herbs
that should ease her discomfort.
You have a very fine home.
It must feel very empty
with him away and you here all alone.
I'm fine.
I can assure you.
I expect him home at any moment.
I'll let him know you stopped by.
Charles, did you bring the cart?
Of course, Mother.
Until next time, Mrs. Fraser.
Do you think he's telling you the truth?
He very well may be.
Amèlie, I knew her, but I
I didn't know she was my mother.
There are many children
born in a brothel.
The little ones, they would
call any whore "maman,"
anyone who would feed them.
And if a whore had to attend a customer
and her child was hungry,
she'd just hand him
to another jeune fille.
Amélie, they called her "The Baroness"
for her haughty manner.
Even then, I knew the name was cruel,
but until today,
I didn't realize how cruel.
Was she kind to ye?
She detested all of the children
of the brothel, but
me most of all.
I understand now.
I was the spawn of the man
who took everything from her.
Her love,
her freedom
even her family.
I think I was maybe
six years old when she died.
She contracted the morbid sore throat.
I remember she summoned me
to her chamber.
What did she say?
Sois un bon garçon.
"Be a good boy."
It wasna fair for her
to blame you for what happened to her.
I wouldn't expect fairness
from one whose life
was filled with so much cruelty
at the hands of such a villain.
Le Comte St. Germain
in France, he tried to kill milady.
And now to learn that he sired me
You are not him.
I know that better than anyone, my love.
But if you are truly his heir,
then you can use
what he's left you for good.
If you take this Beauchamp
up on his offer
That man is a whore. I should know.
He's likely been one all his life.
Monsieur Beauchamp is too old
to sell his ass, of course,
but he would sell himself
from necessity.
All he's asking, though,
is that you sell him some land, no?
Land that you have a right to by birth.
Yes, but why?
What effect will that have,
selling it to these interests in Paris?
They want to install a French colony
on American soil, but
we've devoted ourselves
to the Patriot cause.
We're not fighting to be free
of a British king
just to become servants of a French one.
You dinna ken it'll come to that.
You don't know that it won't.
That isn't everything.
I ken you, Fergus Fraser.
Why is this offer
so difficult to consider?
To claim this inheritance, this land
I must publicly acknowledge
that Le Comte St. Germain was my father.
Monsieur Beauchamp told me what
every orphan wants to hear,
that I'm the son of a great man.
But I'm already the son of a great man.
Do not worry, my dear.
Um, a French warship, the Truite,
has taken to firing her cannon
on occasion.
Dreadful nuisance.
She's anchored on the far end
of Hutchinson Island,
out of range to do any damage
here in town.
I assure you,
you're perfectly safe.
Oh, glad to hear it.
So
why didn't you tell William
I was coming?
B-because, um
because I didn't know
how he would react.
It seems William has been, um lost
since he learned the truth
of his parentage.
But, um, you and he share
a rather unique experience,
discovering that
James Fraser is your father.
So that's why you invited me here.
Not to paint a portrait of Amaranthus.
You think I can help William.
No, I-I-I do think that
a portrait of his grandchild
and daughter-in-law will do
my brother the world of good,
but yes.
If there's anyone who can talk
some sense into William
about his present difficulties,
it's you.
You could have just told me
the truth, you know.
I would have come anyway.
I don't believe
you've been entirely truthful
with me either.
Or should I ask precisely
what, um, errands
your husband has outside the city?
Does it perhaps have something to do
with the Continental Army
encampment there?
I-I-I could have been
more direct about my intentions
for this visit,
but
I couldn't take the chance
you'd rebuff me now.
I-if there's one trait that James Fraser
has successfully passed
to all his children,
it's stubbornness.
It's exceedingly difficult
to get you to do anything
you don't want to do.
William
William is the same.
My late wife, Isobel, told me
that William was lost once
on his estate in Helwater.
He was, um
three or so.
He was wandering alone
in a fog on the fells.
Sometimes I see that.
Sometimes
other things.
You see those things
when you're a parent.
Yes.
I can't make any promises
but I will see what I can do.
Thank you.
Thank you, my dear.
Shh.
Jem and Mandy were a delight.
Rodney and wee Claire
can't wait for their next
what do they call it a sleepover?
Well, I'm glad they weren't a nuisance.
Never.
Every child's a miracle.
You all right, Rachel?
Yes.
Thee is right, of course, Lizzie
every child is a miracle.
Though in Oggy's case, the miracle is
how long he can scream
without drawing breath.
Sometimes he sounds
just like a catamount.
Well, we've all been there.
- Mandy, look!
- Grandda!
Grandda!
Come on.
Come on, they're coming.
Quick, quick, quick.
They're certainly happy
to see their grandda.
Who's that with him?
I have no idea.
- Buck!
- Ah!
Children! Come here!
Mandy. Jemmy, how are ye?
Granny, look, it's our cousin.
Buck! It's Buck!
Sassenach, may I introduce to you
William Buccleigh MacKenzie?
Claire Fraser.
Your reputation precedes ye.
As does yours.
You must have had
a very long journey, indeed.
Longer than I ken how explain.
I told him he was welcome
to stay on the Ridge
- as long as he likes.
- Of course. You're family.
Come along. Come inside.
I'm sure you both must be starving.
Aye.
Ye don't happen to have
any of those, uh,
peanut butter sandwiches, do ye?
What's troubling ye, mo chridhe?
There was a massacre up north.
A Mohawk leader, Joseph Brant,
and a Loyalist captain
led a raid on a Rebel town.
I ken Joseph Brant.
The Continentals retaliated
by sending an army after him.
"The Patriot Army marched
along the Susquehanna River,
"razing every Indian village
they could find.
"Forty villages
were left in flames, and
countless scalps were"
Oh, Christ.
Is that not where Shadow Lake lies?
Where thy former wife
Wahionhaweh.
Aye.
And-and thy son.
Tehiokas neh To'Tis
Swiftest of Lizards.
Rachel
I must go north.
I need to know what happened to them.
Of course you must go.
And Oggy and I will come with thee.
I'm going to miss this little catamount.
You're going to be so much
bigger by the time you return.
Is there really nothing I can say
to convince you and Oggy to stay?
I thank thee, Claire, but, no.
Would thee let thy husband
travel alone 700 miles
to rescue his first wife?
You make a good point.
Mm.
I pray that we find Emily
and her children safe.
But when he sees them,
I want to be by his side
so he doesn't forget
the life he has here.
Does that make me wicked?
Oh.
No, Rachel.
That makes you human.
Here.
- Come.
- Mm.
Rachel says ye mean to stop
in Philadelphia
so she can go to a proper meeting.
Huh. Aye, she's missed it.
Yeah, I'd like you to go
to the brothel there,
the one Frances lived wi' her sister,
and speak wi' some of the lasses.
A brothel?
It's no' enough I'm going
to find my first wife?
It's to do wi' Frances.
Ask them about Jane, anything
she said about her family.
We'd like Frances
to ken more about them.
I'll find out what I can.
I, um
I must say one more thing
to ye before ye go.
Ye ken the book Brianna brought back,
the one written by her other father?
Aye. She told me.
Uh, Frank Randall?
It's about Scots in America
about what they
what we will do in the Revolution.
There's mention of a battle
in the backcountry
at a place called Kings Mountain.
I've heard of this place.
Frank says I fight in it.
When will it happen?
October next, so he says.
Claire thinks he's bending the truth,
but, uh
I'm more and more convinced he's not.
I'll be there with ye, Uncle.
There'll be time enough for me
to do whatever needs to be done
in the north and make it home.
Hey
dinna fash.
My da may be gone,
but I'll guard your left in his stead.
Thank ye, lad.
May ye be safe on your journey.
Private.
Good afternoon. Colonel Marion?
I'm Reverend Roger MacKenzie.
I apologize for interrupting
you, but, uh, well
you're a difficult man to find,
and my request is urgent.
Are you here to volunteer?
Continental Army isn't choosy,
though I have to say,
the occasional minister we do get
doesn't usually wear
his best clothes to fight in.
No, sir.
I've, uh, come
to request your assistance.
My father-in-law owns 10,000 acres
in North Carolina.
A British major named Patrick Ferguson
has been stirring up trouble
in the backcountry,
- raising Loyalist militias.
- Hmm.
And as we are Patriots,
we have decided to assemble
a militia of our own.
But we need weapons.
I believe you've helped arm
others like us before.
Mm-hmm.
I can pay you.
I think we could possibly
reach an agreement.
Uh, well, I have a letter
from my father-in-law
with the particulars.
Your father-in-law
is General James Fraser?
Aye.
Fellow who abandoned
his troops at Monmouth
to tend his wife?
Aye.
James Fraser is-
is an honorable man, sir,
and a very brave soldier.
The battle was already won
when his wife was shot.
Is it true he signed
his letter of resignation
on the back of a corporal in mud?
Actually, he wrote it
in his wife's blood, but aye.
He didn't have a choice.
She was wounded
when General Lee ordered him
to leave her side, which
I'm sure the circumstances
were quite extraordinary.
The fact remains that if it had not been
for Lee's trial
and Lafayette's good word,
Fraser would have been
court-martialed after Monmouth,
perhaps even hanged.
Ah, sir, our people are in danger.
Our circumstances here
are quite dire as well.
We have precious few resources,
even with the assistance
of our new French allies.
I can't afford to give what I do have
to someone who's already lost
the Continental Army's trust.
Surely his years of service
and sacrifice
to the cause would
My answer is no, Reverend MacKenzie,
and it's final.
Then I'll take my leave, sir.
That's not possible, I'm afraid.
I beg your pardon?
We assault the city in a few days' time.
General Lincoln has ordered sentries
to detain anyone leaving camp
in an effort to prevent the deserters
from warning the British.
You can't leave.
I've come to ask for your help
in fighting the British.
Surely you don't you don't think
that I'm gonna leave here
and assist them.
I have my orders, Reverend MacKenzie.
Sir, my wife is in the city.
I promised I'd return.
Every man here has made
such a promise to his wife,
his mother, his son.
Many will not live to honor them.
You might.
I can find a safe place for you
to wait out the battle,
unless you want to fight.
I can give you a good rifle.
No.
Oh.
Stay here and wait, then.
Things go wrong, you can help bury us.
Sir, wait.
Uh, I'm no-I'm no good with a rifle.
But if you can give me a sword,
I'll fight with you.