Honeybun in a Loin Cloth

CHAPTER THREE-2

THE FRENCH HELD THE creek, the British still shifting their position forward, trying to drive the French soldiers back. Godric stood behind a large walnut tree and waited for the signal from the general to fire. His eyes shifted toward the tree line, where the white caps of the Mollies could just be seen through the smoke.

The eerie whine of the fifes and the heart pounding rumble of the drums formed a constant backdrop to the intermittent sound of artillery fire and the ground rumbling boom of the cannons.

Dini’s cap hid her blue-black hair, but the shapeless linen of her dress couldn’t cover the lush curves beneath it. He was so caught up in watching her move into view beyond the soldiers that he almost missed the cue to fire.

He held his musket in front of his body, the muzzle pointed skyward in standard, reenactment form, and fired. A puff of smoke spread from the musket’s muzzle to sting his eyes.

Across the creek, Dolfe fell to the ground as scripted, a wounded soldier on the field of battle. Godric’s gaze slid to Dini. She would make her way to Dolfe as soon as the battle moved further up field.

The British General lifted his arm and waited for his men to take a knee and load their muskets. The men poured gunpowder from small twists of paper, jammed it down the long barrel with rammers, and primed the musket. As each man completed the process he pointed an arm backward, toward the General standing behind them.

When all were ready, the General called out the order. They took aim and fired, a new cloud of smoke filling the air around the front line of British soldiers.

The drums and fifes played from the back of the field of battle. Dini and the other Mollies waited behind them. The color guard stood behind the Mollies, waiting among the trees for their chance to take the field.

As Andy had instructed, the French gave ground, moving backward, toward the fort on top of the hill at their backs. Godric was turning away when the next volley was fired. He opened his mouth to yell at a new recruit whose musket was down, pointed directly at the re-enactors on the other side of the creek.

Dini had been running toward Dolfe in a crouch. She reached him just as the volley was fired and dropped to one knee. In the color guard behind her was an overweight man holding a large red and white flag in one beefy hand, and a silver flask in the other. The man was tipping the flask to his lips when it suddenly pinged out of his hand and blood splattered outward, spraying his fellow color guard.

The man clutched his hand to his belly and screamed as the drums and fifes played on. The smoke was so thick Godric could barely see Dini as she bent over Dolfe, oblivious to the danger in the midst of noise and chaos.

Staying on script, she bent low over Dolfe, her hands running over his chest, as Godric took off running, screaming her name and Dolfe’s.

Neither of them could hear him.

The lines of French and British soldiers continued through their repetitive movements according to script, unaware of the drama unfolding in their midst.

Godric plunged into the creek, the icy water stinging his ankles between his moccasins and leggings, and waved his musket at Peters, the man playing the British General. Peters’ head swung around and he was frowning. Godric screamed “Stop!” and swung his musket in the direction of the color bearer, who was now kneeling on the ground, still screaming. Around him, his fellow color guard stood helpless, their faces blank with horror.

Peters heard nothing, but when he finally turned he appeared to see the color bearer on the ground. Godric finally got close enough to the drums and fifes to catch their attention. When they saw his face the first fife stopped playing, followed one by one by the other fifes and the drum. As the last of the music drained away and the firing stuttered to a stop, all that was left was the sound of a man screaming in severe pain.

Godric yelled Dolfe’s name as stunned silence settled over the field. Dolfe was sitting up and half turned, his face registering comprehension as he put together the man writhing on the ground just beyond Dini and Godric’s panicked run.

He grabbed Dini’s arm and pulled her down to the ground, rolling his body over her, just as a second bullet splintered the tree at her back.

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