“It was, at its heart, an intelligence mission. On top of whatever else Paul Revere was, he was one of America’s first spies. He’d founded a group he called the Mechanics, and a faction of that group called themselves the Sons of Liberty. The Mechanics were tasked with keeping tabs on the British. That particular night—April 18, 1775—the Mechanics had uncovered that a team of British soldiers was on its way to Concord.”

“To arrest John Hancock and Sam Adams,” the woman said.

“That’s what we learn in high school. Hancock and Adams were the de facto leaders of the American rebels; Hancock, a wealthy merchant—the richest man in Massachusetts—and Adams, a failed young businessman but a real rabble-rouser, a fan of mob violence, and probably one of the leaders of the Boston Tea Party. They were arguably the most dangerous men in the colonies. So, it seems understandable that the British might want to send a detachment of men to go find and arrest them. But describing the British mission that way, well, it’s not entirely accurate. The British did intend to arrest Hancock and Adams, but that wasn’t the main focus of their raid, or of Revere’s ride. When Revere was captured by the British, and then released, he continued on to where Hancock was hiding, even though he knew his compatriots had already warned the rebel leadership. He continued on for one purpose.”

Charles waited a moment, to make sure her focus was entirely on him.

“To retrieve Hancock’s trunk.”

Charles said the words with a flourish, maybe a little too much volume. As he did, he felt himself nearly stumble, and reached out for a nearby bookshelf to steady himself. Perhaps he was still a little drunk from the night before. But he was too engaged now to slow down.

“After Hancock and Adams made their escape, Revere retrieved the trunk—a heavy, leather-covered, four-by-two, locked wooden chest—and carried it off into the woods. It was that trunk that the British were searching for, that trunk that caused Revere to ride, at great personal danger, across Massachusetts that night.”

“The trunk,” the woman prodded. “I’ve read about it before. It contained letters, contracts, things like that, communication between the Revolutionary leaders. Political and maybe sentimental value.”

Charles shook his head so violently he nearly toppled over again. His mind was swirling a bit, so he took another sip of the coffee to try and steady himself. Again, he tasted something spicy.

“Is that cinnamon? Or tamarack?”

“Something like that,” the woman said. “The papers in the trunk, Charles.”

“Yes, the papers in the trunk. Revolutionary documents, yes. But that wasn’t all that the trunk contained.”