The Rebel...Part 1
The Wallace children threw their last glance towards their home. The first time they would be away from their dwelling. At last the carriages set of at a trot towards the town, a journey that would last for 2 days.
Town Hall 16 August 1667 - Dawn
Order! Order!” finally, the ruffled crowd agreed to settle down. The man presiding over the debate was the Mayor Blake, a tough, battle scarred veteran of the war. Armed with a pair of piercing eyes, the man’s gaze was enough to send shivers down one’s spine. “I have called upon you, honorable citizens, to discuss the advance of the English troops. For the past few months they have been moving up North, and will soon reach our settlement.” He paused, his facial expressions contorted into a look of mock horror. “And every thing we hold dear to will be annihilated, in one fell swoop.”
The crowd gathered in the hall broke into a myriad of arguments. The mayor raised a hand, signaling for silence. It was a while before silence fell upon the crowd. “I will now have Colonel Christopher present his case”. A man in his late thirties stood up, clad in full military attire. His eyes were alert, darting from each side of the hall to the next, studying each man’s faces. After a long silence he began to speak. “As you have been told, the English forces will soon be closing in on our town. I stand here in hopes of persuading the majority of the able bodied males, if not all, into joining the army and beating the redcoats of our soil!” Once again the men in the hall erupted, questioning and bickering about this sudden move.
Throughout this lengthy discussion, one man sat still listening to each word, each sentence uttered. Just when the town hall was about to explode into a brawl, he stood up. The townsmen immediately silenced themselves in reverence to this respected war veteran. This man --- Bartholomew Wallace.
Bartholomew Wallace, a great warrior earned his reputation as a ruthless killing machine when the French and the Cherokees tried to raid Fort Charles. The soldiers residing within the fort put up a fierce retaliation, cutting down many French and Cherokees alike. They had won, but at the expense of many lives. He began to speak, “ What good is a tyrant 3000 miles away, to 3000 tyrant 1 mile away.” The hall broke into sniggers. “What good is it if we put up a resistance. Yes, we may win, but at what cost? You people may wish to participate and bring down a few Englishmen, but I will keep my family out of this violence!” Upon hearing that declaration, his eldest son, Jebediah, stormed out the hall. It was a known fact that he wanted so badly to enlist into the army and bask in the glory of eliminating the English, that was threatening to turn this vast land of freedom into a colony.
At long last, the meeting drew to a close. Bartholomew was first to leave. Upon reaching the threshold, orderly lines of young men came into his view. Scores of those young men eagerly waiting to grasp that quill in the hands, and write their on the parchment, to enlist into the army.
Just moments from inking his name, an ominous shadow was cast over Jebediah. A rough pair of hands lifted him up and shook him hard, “ You will not leave this family, and neither will you fight against this English tyrant!” Jebediah felt the happiness draw out of him instantaneously.
To Be Continued.....
Town Hall 16 August 1667 - Dawn
Order! Order!” finally, the ruffled crowd agreed to settle down. The man presiding over the debate was the Mayor Blake, a tough, battle scarred veteran of the war. Armed with a pair of piercing eyes, the man’s gaze was enough to send shivers down one’s spine. “I have called upon you, honorable citizens, to discuss the advance of the English troops. For the past few months they have been moving up North, and will soon reach our settlement.” He paused, his facial expressions contorted into a look of mock horror. “And every thing we hold dear to will be annihilated, in one fell swoop.”
The crowd gathered in the hall broke into a myriad of arguments. The mayor raised a hand, signaling for silence. It was a while before silence fell upon the crowd. “I will now have Colonel Christopher present his case”. A man in his late thirties stood up, clad in full military attire. His eyes were alert, darting from each side of the hall to the next, studying each man’s faces. After a long silence he began to speak. “As you have been told, the English forces will soon be closing in on our town. I stand here in hopes of persuading the majority of the able bodied males, if not all, into joining the army and beating the redcoats of our soil!” Once again the men in the hall erupted, questioning and bickering about this sudden move.
Throughout this lengthy discussion, one man sat still listening to each word, each sentence uttered. Just when the town hall was about to explode into a brawl, he stood up. The townsmen immediately silenced themselves in reverence to this respected war veteran. This man --- Bartholomew Wallace.
Bartholomew Wallace, a great warrior earned his reputation as a ruthless killing machine when the French and the Cherokees tried to raid Fort Charles. The soldiers residing within the fort put up a fierce retaliation, cutting down many French and Cherokees alike. They had won, but at the expense of many lives. He began to speak, “ What good is a tyrant 3000 miles away, to 3000 tyrant 1 mile away.” The hall broke into sniggers. “What good is it if we put up a resistance. Yes, we may win, but at what cost? You people may wish to participate and bring down a few Englishmen, but I will keep my family out of this violence!” Upon hearing that declaration, his eldest son, Jebediah, stormed out the hall. It was a known fact that he wanted so badly to enlist into the army and bask in the glory of eliminating the English, that was threatening to turn this vast land of freedom into a colony.
At long last, the meeting drew to a close. Bartholomew was first to leave. Upon reaching the threshold, orderly lines of young men came into his view. Scores of those young men eagerly waiting to grasp that quill in the hands, and write their on the parchment, to enlist into the army.
Just moments from inking his name, an ominous shadow was cast over Jebediah. A rough pair of hands lifted him up and shook him hard, “ You will not leave this family, and neither will you fight against this English tyrant!” Jebediah felt the happiness draw out of him instantaneously.
To Be Continued.....
posted by Gabriel at 12:39 am
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