“I cannot complain. I have been blessed with good soil, and I imagine I’ll start putting out seeds in a day or so.”

“So soon? I was thinking of waiting until next week myself. Do you think I am making a mistake?”

“No, sir,” Caleum answered with equanimity, not betraying any surprise that such a man should seek his opinion, nor showing any bashfulness in tendering it. “Acre sits up on a hill, and the way the winds come in this time of year I imagine another week of frost for you in the main field.”

“Just as I have always maintained,” Stanton answered, impressed with the younger man’s reasoning and observation. “That is very sharp of you, Caleum. Then they say around Miss Boutencourt’s that you are a bright young man.”

Caleum did not think to ask how Stanton knew this, or why he should go seeking it, as it seemed natural that Rudolph Stanton would know everything that went on in Berkeley.

“Tell me now, what do you think of the disagreement with our friends in London?”

“What in particular?” Caleum asked.

“Do you think in the main it is time to separate out from them?”

“I don’t know about time,” Caleum answered, “but it seems headed that way. As to which side I would choose I have no doubt.”

“No, nor I,” Stanton said.

It was unclear whether they meant the same thing, and Libbie and Adelia were concerned then to know why Stanton had shown up in the middle of the night to begin a discussion of politics. Magnus, however, had his suspicions and looked at Adelia, and she at Libbie, and the two of them withdrew.

“I imagine Caleum sees things much as you do,” Magnus interjected, not wanting to leave him alone on such uncertain ground.

“Does he?” Stanton asked, giving Magnus his full attention. “How do I see things?”

“Well, Mr. Stanton, neither of us would presume to know your thoughts,” Magnus said, uncomfortable with what he feared was a trap. “But if I had to guess, based on my dealings with you from the past, I would say you thought people was pretty much the same and deserved to be treated fair and that whatever side you take would be for the best reasons.”

“Is that what I think, Caleum?” Stanton asked.

“Equal,” Caleum answered. “Not all the same, but yes, in the main, equal.”

Stanton was pleased, and nodded.

“Do you think as well that men are all born as blank slates and that only experience makes them what they are?” Caleum asked then, grown a little bold.

Stanton smiled at him. “Indeed, boy,” he said, “I do. Is it what you think?”

“In principle,” Caleum said. “I think, though, some men might be born inclined more toward one thing than others, and what they experience might only bring it out in them.”

“Well, it is a ticklish business.” Stanton smiled. “You know then why I have come here?”

Caleum and Magnus both admitted that they did not, as Stanton took his pipe from his vest and began to smoke, much at home in the Merian house and happy with Caleum’s natural good sense. “I have been charged with organizing a militia,” he confessed, “and I wanted to know whether you might have any interest in it.”

When Stanton said charged, it was clear he was in with other powerful people, and by interest he meant Caleum’s loyalty.

“Are you expecting troubles?” Magnus asked, concerned only for Caleum’s well-being.

“What is on the horizon I cannot say, but I plan on Berkeley being prepared and all our properties protected, whatever occurs.”

Both men looked at Caleum, who took in everything before him but did nothing to betray his thoughts.

“He’ll answer you tomorrow then, Mr. Stanton, unless of course you need an answer right this moment,” Magnus said, knowing they would be granted what he had requested. It was not that he thought Caleum a child and unable to decide properly, but only that he wanted to protect his boy’s interest and well-being as he was used to doing, even if he was a man by now. In this case time would best achieve that.

“I’ll join,” Caleum said abruptly, defying his uncle and grown tired of the game with Stanton.

“I think you had better think about it,” Magnus reprimanded him. “Mr. Stanton, you know we’ve always tried to do whatever we could in support of Berkeley, but this is serious and needs to be thought about seriously.”

“Yes, you should think about it,” Stanton said to Caleum.

Caleum agreed to think it over for the night.

He did not wish to trade the harmony of his life for the lawlessness of war, but he already knew what he would do. It was less a matter of political belief than the fact that his neighbor had asked him, and he felt he had a debt of honor to repay and would not fail his responsibility.

His natural beliefs, they were not far behind, though they still needed time before they would be fully developed.

ten

Caleum joined Stanton’s militia in October, and they began immediately to prepare for battle. Stanton himself drilled the troops in the beginning, having experience of warfare from the French and Indian campaigns. However, as the seriousness of the political situation grew, he had recourse to hire a seasoned colonel to give the men greater discipline and lead them like conscripts in a full army. Each Saturday they could be seen out on the town square practicing maneuvers, as the colonel lectured them on various theories of warfare. These discourses were sometimes formal, as when he spoke about the use of mobile artillery, and other times they were ribald tirades on the privation of war, or else dissertations on the rights of the colonists. No matter the conversation, though, it inevitably spilled over and continued at Content’s tavern afterward, where the men argued the day’s lesson and often made merry.

To assemble his army, Stanton had gone through all the families in the valley and hill country and picked those he thought were best fit to serve. Caleum knew many of the other men in the militia by name or reputation, but he could not claim friendship with any of them, as they were from so far and wide, and he seldom associated beyond his small circle. Because they had been individually selected by Stanton, though, it was considered quite an honor to serve, and they bonded over their position as the ablest young men in the county.

They were also envied by those men who had not been asked to join, a thing that turned to jealousy whenever womenfolk mentioned the militia with approval. “I don’t think those British would dare show themselves in Berkeley with Stanton’s militia guarding us.”

They were a fine assembly, who feared very little of the sacrifice they were being asked to make and, though young, heeded Stanton’s admonishment to be farsighted enough to ask what their colony and country should be after the strife of war had passed and gone.

At Stonehouses this looming reality still yet to settle, and everything seemed to move and progress as normal for that time of year. In June the corn was high as a yearling, and in July they prepared for the harvest that would soon be upon them. Libbie’s pregnancy was well advanced, and though Caleum urged her to stay off her feet, she was defiant about it — helping with the summer chores as any other maid of the country. Adelia worked her garden, and was trying that year to introduce orange trees from seeds Magnus got for her after they saw Libbie’s embroidered picture. Magnus, as he went to work that season, thought for the first time in years of his past humiliations, first at Sorel’s Hundred, then at the hands of the tax assessor — and also those little assaults that are too small and diffuse to be given name in memory but only stored away. Through this reminiscence he managed eventually to convince himself in the rhetoric and need for war, and that what came after it would outlive what had been before, as everything would be equal in it, and none captive to the major part against his will. It was not something he shared with anyone, but whenever he saw Caleum ride into the stable in his militia uniform his own heart was made very proud, though of course not vengeful or thirsty for blood.