“I mean to give thee a clyster to settle thy humors,” Denzell said, jerking his head toward the door. “Of course, ice water is not the best medium for the purpose …” He walked to the door and rapped sharply. “Friend Chesley? Will thee fetch me a bucket of warm water, please?”

“Warm water?” The guard had, of course, been standing just outside the door, listening. “Er … yes, sir … I suppose … you’re sure as you’re safe in there with him, sir? Maybe you’d best step out here while I get the water.”

“No, Friend, there is no danger,” Denzell said, motioning William to lie down on the bench. “He is suffering from an injury to the head, among other things; I doubt he can stand.”

There was a scraping noise as Chesley unbolted the door and peered suspiciously in. William emitted a faint moan and swooned, one hand pressed to his brow, the other trailing off the bench in a languishing sort of way.

“Ah,” said Chesley, and closed the door again. Footsteps crunched away.

“He didn’t bolt it,” William whispered, sitting up abruptly. “Shall I run for it now?”

“No, thee wouldn’t get far and it’s not necessary. Dottie is giving Benjamin his breakfast and convincing him that the best thing to do is to give orders for thee to be taken to General Washington’s headquarters; that’s the Ford house in Morristown. I am meant to be administering smallpox inoculations at the church this afternoon; I will therefore insist upon accompanying thee to Washington, to support thee in thy infirmity.” Here he paused to look William over, grinned briefly, and shook his head. “Thee looks convincingly battered. I think thee might suffer an effusion of blood to the brain and unfortunately die as a result before we reach the general.”

“A fine physician you are,” William said. “Ought I to have a fit and foam at the mouth, to be convincing?”

“Moaning loudly and soiling thyself will be adequate, I think.”

105

Four Hundred Miles to Think

THE ROADS WERE EITHER half-frozen slush or knee-deep mud, and the trees held their brown sticky buds tight to their twigs, refusing to let a single leaf poke its tender head out into this inhospitable climate. Still, William could feel the restlessness of the air; a sense of something alive and wild moving in the air between the soft, fat flakes of snow.

After parting from Denzell in Morristown, he’d resisted the strong impulse to go to Mount Josiah when he reached Virginia. He didn’t need solitude or contemplation now, though; the choice was clear enough, and all the thinking he needed to do could be done on horseback.