Original subtitles

Previously...

I mean, you don't intend to live your life

in order to please other people's expectations.

May I call you by your Christian name?

Why, yes.

It's Elspeth.

And I'm Claire.

All I'm asking is that you contact this Claudel fellow

and encourage him to meet with me.

I'll consider it.

Ye think Frank is torturing you?

I just don't know what's real or not anymore.

Rob Cameron.

He read my guide for time travel by accident.

No one on the Ridge kens of this gold's existence.

Canna let them find out.

Daddy's book warns of a battle coming to the backcountry.

We're gonna need a lot more than just a few hunting rifles,

and Savannah is the place to get them.

Lord John Grey included a letter of safe passage

with his invitation.

You're raising a Loyalist militia on my land.

I am.

You are sorely mistaken

if you think I will allow it!

I've reconsidered your plan to get guns to arm the Ridge.

It'll still be dangerous, but Randall's book says

the battle to end the siege of Savannah

will be on the ninth of October.

Continentals will fail.

The battle will be bloody, but...

it willna reach the center of the city.

So if you wait out the fighting there,

you should be safe enough, as will Fergus, Marsali.

And the children can stay here with us, of course.

Take this to Lieutenant Colonel Francis Marion.

The book says he'll be with the Continental Army

in Savannah.

He has a great deal of experience with militias.

Might be keen to arm men from the backcountry.

So we're starting our own militia?

Oh, it's that, or we join Benjamin Cleveland

and his Overmountain Men.

I'll be damned if I'll report back to that murdering bastard.

You'd think it'd at least have the decency to shine,

like in a film.

Um, what about bandits?

Do you want to make it into musket balls

- like you did the last time? - No.

There's no time.

But I do have an idea.

What is that abominable smell?

It's a wee gift from Jamie and Claire.

It's sauerkraut.

Oh, ho, ho, ho.

Magnifique!

The whiskey, eh? Not the stench.

It was Da's idea. Perfect hiding place.

Mm, thank you.

Gold?

It's for muskets. Jamie's forming a militia.

And there's an officer in the Continental camp,

Francis Marion

who's been known to arm backcountry patriots.

We thought it best to leave this minor detail

out of our letter to you.

I don't imagine you intend to traipse into an army camp

with a king's ransom in bullion?

No.

I don't want to invite any trouble,

nor do I expect Marion will have crates

of guns just lying around the camp

that he can readily part with.

Arrangements will have to be made.

- So we were hoping you could... - Aye.

Course you can leave the gold wi' us.

Fergus has got plenty of hiding places.

I wouldn't be surprised if you found the crown jewels.

- It shouldn't be for long. - It's no trouble.

Now, can we please seal these barrels tightly

until I can find some Germans who will eat this?

Let us secrete the gold and drink to our reunion.

It's been too long since I've tasted

Milord's divine elixir.

To be safe,

do you think you should leave for the camp now?

Oh, dinna fash.

There's plenty of time to find Marion

and be back before the battle.

A wee dram will speed me on my way.

Cunningham wasn't exaggerating.

I was collecting rents,

trying to ascertain the loyalties of the settlers

without arousing suspicion.

Most of the families here are loyal to the Crown,

and those who aren't would be reluctant

to join a militia that oppose it.

I canna try to recruit them

without risking it getting back to Cunningham.

Surely the Ardsmuir men will fight when it comes to it.

Ah, of course.

And a few others, but it willna be enough.

I'll need to recruit men from further afield.

I leave today with Ian and Josiah.

They ken the outposts

that have cropped up while we were away.

Well, you can't keep Cunningham waiting forever.

I mean, he's going to realize

that you've no intention of joining him.

Wouldn't it be simpler to just evict him and be done with it?

If I evict him or even kill him,

someone will replace him or come to avenge him.

No, it's better if I have him close

so I can keep an eye on him.

Ah.

He told me his commander

is Major Patrick Ferguson.

Frank wrote of the man.

He's the one that formed the Loyalist militia

that fight at Kings Mountain.

I still am not sure of Frank's motives

in writing that book.

Aye, but what he wrote... it's happening before our eyes.

I met Cleveland,

and now Cunningham speaks of Major Ferguson.

Well, that's not proof that you fight.

He could be lying.

The book says that Major Ferguson is vicious,

ruthless on the battlefield and off,

burning the homes of Rebels without warning,

forcing their allegiance.

I'm not certain I will fight, Claire,

but if Cunningham is forming a militia,

we need to be ready, regardless of the book.

To muskets, liberty, and sauerkraut, mes amis.

Slainte.

Mmm.

Strange for a minister and his wife

to smuggle guns, no?

That was Brianna's idea, actually.

The last people anyone would ever suspect.

And once we get back to the Ridge,

well, our family has a doctor, a soldier, a minister.

Thought we needed an armorer.

Ah, there's me thinking you came all this way

to visit us and paint a wee picture for Lord John.

It happens I recently received a letter from His Lordship.

He suggested I meet with one of his associates...

Percival Beauchamp.

Are either of you familiar with this man?

- No. - Mm-mm.

He claims to have information

that will be of great interest to me.

But Lord John says he can be a slippery fellow.

I must make up my own mind

whether what he says is trustworthy.

You know, our mother's maiden name was Beauchamp?

I mean, obviously, the English pronounce it "bee-cham,"

but that's quite a coincidence.

Merde. Merde!

Cowards!

Merde.

Are you two all right?

I'm-I'm fine. Are you?

Yeah, they didna bother to put a note on it this time.

"This time?"

What, this has happened before?

Aye, we've had some horrible threatening letters.

Filth. Bag full of dead rats.

Another with a serpent.

The bastard escaped.

Wait. What is going on?

These days, when people dinna like the news,

they tend to blame the printer.

Has someone discovered you're Patriots?

Jamie mentioned you'd been printing for the cause.

The culprit is as likely to be a Patriot as not.

While, privately, we print pamphlets for the Rebels,

publicly, we take a more impartial approach.

Yeah, in trying to not anger one side,

you end up angering both sides.

Just the life of a news printer in these troubled times.

Ye have any weapons?

Aye, but, uh...

just the one rifle twixt the three of us.

That willna do, not in war...

...nor hunting,

I wouldna think, but it doesna matter.

I'm expecting a shipment shortly.

When the time comes, you'll each have your own

musket and shot.

We'll ride with you, Mr. Fraser.

Excellent.

Josiah will take down your names.

- What's your surname? - Miller.

Uncle.

What is it, lad?

Maybe it's nothing.

I've recruited three more men.

There's this Scottish fellow over yonder.

And when he heard I was from Fraser's Ridge,

he-he mentioned he was heading there himself,

that he kent Roger and Brianna...

from Scotland.

He says he's looking for them.

- Cameron. - Aye.

I'm James Fraser.

I understand you're acquainted

with my daughter, Brianna MacKenzie.

I am. Aye.

You're Robert Cameron, then.

Christ, no, man.

I'm no' Rob Cameron.

My name is William Buccleigh MacKenzie.

Come to tell Roger and Brianna

that Cameron won't be botherin' them again

and to return Roger's wee book.

Don't want it to fall in the wrong hands a second time.

Buck McKenzie.

You remind me of your father.

Perhaps when you've finished painting Lady Grey,

you could paint a portrait of Marsali and me.

I'd be happy to.

I'll paint the whole family.

Oh, we need to send to Philadelphia

for a canvas big enough.

Don't linger at the Continental camp.

Talk among the merchants is that a battle is imminent.

I'll return as soon as I'm able.

- Be safe. - You too.

See you soon.

With any luck, I'll see you both soon.

Good luck.

Do you think houses are alive?

That was the wind.

But, yes.

I think places

that people live in for a time

absorb a little bit of them.

I often think that houses affect the people living in them,

so why wouldn't it work both ways?

So do you think Amy Lindsay's still in her cabin,

haunting it?

I don't know about her cabin exactly.

When people die...

naturally, the people they leave behind sense them,

you know, sense...

that a part of them is still with them in a way.

I don't know that I would call that haunting, though.

It's more like...

a memory.

A longing.

I wish Jane would haunt me.

Fanny.

You won't forget her.

And she won't forget you either.

You know, talking about the people we've lost

can make it seem as though they're still with us.

Janey used to whisper...

"Good night, ma chérie"

before we went to sleep.

She spoke French?

A little.

She said that's what our mother used to call me,

"ma chérie."

Janey used to tell me about our parents before bed.

She was trying to help you keep their memory alive.

She would tell me good things or funny things,

but we would never talk about anything serious.

She talked to the other girls at the brothel.

I know she was trying to protect me.

Sometimes I wish she hadn't.

I better go close that window.

And your little dog too.

What did you say?

Mrs. Cunningham's coming.

Could you show her into the parlor?

I'll be right there.

She's probably come for the slippery elm powder

I promised her.

Good evening, Mrs. Cunningham.

Do you want to wait in the parlor, please?

I most certainly will not wait!

I need help!

Frances, chair.

Go get some whiskey, please.

Oh.

What happened?

Fell.

Tripped over the scuttle like a fool

and fell on my shoulder.

Well, don't worry. I can fix it.

I wouldn't have staggered two miles

through buggering brambles if I didn't think you could!

And where is your son?

Mm.

He's away.

As I thought... dislocated.

Fanny...

hold her tight here.

That's it.

Elspeth...

this is going to hurt.

Mm.

Mm.

All right.

Ready?

Aah!

Grass-combing son of a buggering sod!

What, child?

It's been a long time since I heard language like that.

Well, if you have to do with soldiers, young woman,

you acquire their vices as well as their virtues.

Where, may I ask, did you hear language like that?

I lived in a brothel.

Indeed.

Well, I suppose whores

also have their virtues as well as their vices.

I don't know about the virtues,

unless you count being able to satisfy a man in two minutes

by the clock.

Oh, I-I think that would be classed as a skill,

rather than a virtue.

Though a useful one, I dare say.

I'm sure everyone has their strong points.

Fanny, would you go to the kitchen

and make up a plate for Mrs. Cunningham?

You know, I have always wondered

about the term "grass-combing."

Is it actual bad language, or is it just descriptive?

Well, it usually applies

to someone who is either idle or incompetent.

Well, why combing grass

should invoke either attribute is unclear,

but it isn't actually bad language

unless the term "bugger" is applied.

But I've never actually heard it without "bugger."

You must have heard much more

if you were traveling with the army.

Oh, it's worse than you think.

My first husband was a sailor.

Well, I believe you shocked Fanny,

not with the actual language, but...

that it came from a respectable woman such as you.

Oh, well...

women tend to be freer in their speech

when there aren't any men present.

She's a remarkable child.

But you must try to persuade her not to...

She knows not to talk like that in public,

as I'm sure do you.

But you're free to say anything you like here tonight,

as I'm not letting you go back to your cabin

in your condition.

By my condition, whether you mean injured or inebriated,

I'm not sure, but in either case, thank you.

William.

Bloody hell, it's you.

Oh, W-William, would you like to invite our guest in?

She's had quite a long journey.

Forgive me, Mrs. MacKenzie.

The unexpected pleasure of seeing you again

has caused me to forget myself.

I was delighted when you accepted

my invitation, my dear.

I was beginning to fear I'd never see you again.

Feels like a lifetime

since we all met.

Allow me to introduce Amaranthus, Viscountess Grey,

my late nephew's widow.

Pleasure.

I'm sorry for your loss.

Lord John mentioned he'd sent for a portrait painter.

Didn't realize it would be a woman.

You must be very skilled for him to ask you to come.

- Where is it you traveled from? - North Carolina.

Oh, surely you did not undertake the journey alone?

I was under the impression

that your husband would be accompanying you.

Ah, he did, but he's currently, uh,

attending to an errand outside the city.

It-it's time for Trevor's bedtime feed.

It was a pleasure, Mrs. MacKenzie.

Yes, well, uh, various important matters

require my attention,

so I will leave you two

to become reacquainted.

You came from North Carolina?

Last we met, you were on your way to Boston.

These are dangerous times.

We thought it best to be with family,

so we returned to Fraser's Ridge.

You must have met Fanny, then. Is she well?

Yes, she is.

My mother has taken quite a liking to her.

So has my father.

Well, I mean, our father.

Did you know?

The day we met in Wilmington,

did you know what we were to each other?

I did.

I wanted to tell you.

Roger, my husband, was with me.

He was just around the corner at the inn...

and my children, Jem and Mandy.

I...

really wanted you to meet them...

even if you didn't know we were...

well...

yours.

Mine?

I should probably say something polite,

like, only if you want us, but thats...

A bit late for that... to lie about the truth, I mean.

I do apologize for not telling you.

But Lord John and Da felt so strongly...

It wasn't my place.

I accept your apology.

Though, in all honesty, I'm glad you didn't tell me.

I- I wouldn't have known how to respond

to such a revelation at the time.

Hmm.

And you do now?

No, I bloody don't.

But I haven't blown my brains out.

When I was eighteen, I might have.

I apologize.

I- I didn't mean that with any derogatory reference

to you or your family.

Your family, you mean.

Thank you for coming, Monsieur Fraser.

Allow me to send for wine.

Ooh, no, thank you.

I came to hear what you have to say,

but I must get back to my work.

Very well then, sir.

I'll get right to it.

I wish to acquaint you with the facts of your birth...

...facts I think you do not know.

Have you heard of a man by the name

of le Comte St. Germain?

Why?

You are his son.

I'm sure you have an explanation

as to how you came to this preposterous conclusion.

As you may have surmised, I am not French myself.

I have, however, married into a prestigious French family.

My wife is the sister of the Baron Amandine.

And as with any old dynasty,

there is a sordid family secret.

Many years ago, my wife's older sister

began a torrid affair with the Comte

and, not long after, disappeared,

fled into the night with her jewels

and, they supposed, into the arms of another lover.

I take it you wish me to believe

I'm the result of this tryst?

Perhaps the name of the woman in question

will convince you.

Amélie LeVigne Beauchamp.

Yes.

Yes, she is dead.

You may continue.

A few years ago, I uncovered the truth

from one of the Comte's servants.

Amélie did not run away with a lover.

The Comte simply grew weary of her

and, learning she was pregnant, lured her away from home,

drugged her with opium, and sold her to a brothel.

Maison Elise.

That is where she gave birth to a child.

You.

And Monsieur le Comte?

He was last seen more than thirty years ago.

And while no body was found,

the circumstances of his disappearance

were so mysterious

that a magistrate declared him deceased.

His estate is currently held in trust

by his solicitor in Paris,

but it would undoubtedly be released

should a petition be filed by his heir.

Unless the law in France has changed of late,

a bastard cannot inherit property, so...

Claudel.

If I may use your original name.

You may not, sir.

Very well.

I found this

hidden in the pages of a dusty family Bible.

I'm quite certain I'm the only one living

who knows of its existence.

It is a contract of marriage.

It appears Amélie relinquished her virtue

at a high price...

by demanding the Comte marry her in secret

before welcoming him to her bed.

Allow me to congratulate you, sir.

You are not a bastard.

Assuming the document isn't forged,

plainly, you have something you want out of this.

Something Monsieur le Comte's heir might accomplish for you?

Le Comte St. Germain owned... his estate still does own...

a majority of the stock of a syndicate

investing in land in the New World,

the main asset of which is a large parcel

in what is known as the Old Northwest.

Some...

interests of mine in Paris

believe that while Britain is preoccupied

with this rebellion,

there is an opportunity to establish a French colony

on the land with French settlers.

Unfortunately, le Comte's solicitor

refuses to sell the stock at any price.

But if a legitimate heir were to appear,

the land would become his.

And my associates would pay said heir a significant sum

for said land.

A significant sum.

Have I done something to offend you?

I'm simply trying to enjoy my literature in solitude.

Should you require company,

perhaps Mrs. MacKenzie will oblige you.

Lady Grey, are you jealous?

Don't be absurd.

Though anyone with eyes can see

that there's a history between the two of you.

I suppose you're right.

She is a person of some significance in my life.

Please. I thought we...

It doesn't matter.

I was foolish.

Ms. MacKenzie, Brianna, is my sister.

You told me you didn't have any siblings.

I'm a bastard.

Well, I'm not legally a bastard,

since the Eighth Earl of Ellesmere

and my mother were married when I was born.

But the Eighth Earl was not my father.

The man who sired me was...

is Brianna's father.

Well...

whoever he was, he must have been a-

a very striking gentleman.

He is.

Has he acknowledged you?

Not publicly, no.

Nor do I want him to.

He, uh-he owes me nothing.

I'm only telling you this because you asked.

Because I enjoy your company.

May I be so bold as to presume you enjoy mine?

That is bold...

...though perhaps not incorrect.

Well...

I think it's only fair

one comprehends the person whose company one is enjoying.

I am not the Ninth Earl of Ellesmere...

not really.

I never was.

Of late, I've found myself wishing I could renounce

the damn title altogether...

though English law makes that all but impossible.

Well, you may not be able to renounce it,

but you could hand it on...

abdicate in favor of your heir, I mean.

I don't have an heir.

Well, you could marry me and give it to our firstborn.

I'm a widow, after all.

We could retire into private life

and breed dachshunds.

I can't imagine anything more tiresome.

Surely you don't mean to imply that being married to me

would be tiresome, William.

You might just possibly enjoy it.

Thank you, Amaranthus,

for not thinking less of me.

As I've told you,

I'm the daughter of F. Cowden, bookseller.

That's all my father is to the world.

I thought I would be a merchant's wife.

But now I am Viscountess Grey.

And my son will be the Duke of Pardloe.

While you may disagree,

I believe a title is something you simply have,

not something you are.

By law, you are the Earl of Ellesmere.

That's all the world needs to know.

But you're not only that, William,

not to me.

How's the pain?

In my shoulder or my head?

Both, I suppose.

Bearable.

Though I wish the girl would refrain from slamming doors.

Oh, that's not Fanny.

She's taking milk over to Evan Lindsay's.

Then who?

Houses make sounds, Elspeth.

And all I know is that when the wind is in the east,

ours makes that particular noise from the attic.

Why build an attic in the first place?

Because my husband is the Fraser of Fraser's Ridge.

If there should ever be any kind of emergency

that causes our tenants to have to leave their home,

well, then they can take refuge here with us.

And what kind of an emergency might that be?

Your son...

do you believe what he says about...

My grandson's death?

Yes, I do believe him.

It is a comfort.

I was thinking specifically about...

what he said to him,

that he, your grandson, would see Charles again

in seven years' time.

Do you believe that?

I only know that he believes it.

Good day, Mrs. Fraser.

I'm here to collect my mother.

I'll help her get her things.

No need. I'll do it myself.

You'll find her through here.

Mother, are you well?

I heard that you were injured.

Yes, my shoulder,

but Mrs. Fraser was able to heal it

quite satisfactorily.

She's been most hospitable.

I've enjoyed the company.

Her husband's away at the moment on business.

Is he?

I had wondered.

He's a hard man to pin down, your husband.

We had been meaning to talk...

or so I thought.

Well, he's anxious to speak with you too.

But this business couldn't wait.

Well...

I thank you, ma'am, for the care

you've shown my mother.

She should be fully recovered within a week or so.

But, uh, here are some herbs

that should ease her discomfort.

You have a very fine home.

It must feel very empty

with him away and you here all alone.

I'm fine.

I can assure you.

I expect him home at any moment.

I'll let him know you stopped by.

Charles, did you bring the cart?

Of course, Mother.

Until next time, Mrs. Fraser.

Do you think he's telling you the truth?

He very well may be.

Amèlie, I knew her, but I...

...I didn't know she was my mother.

There are many children born in a brothel.

The little ones, they would call any whore "maman,"

anyone who would feed them.

And if a whore had to attend a customer

and her child was hungry,

she'd just hand him to another jeune fille.

Amélie, they called her "The Baroness"

for her haughty manner.

Even then, I knew the name was cruel,

but until today, I didn't realize how cruel.

Was she kind to ye?

She detested all of the children

of the brothel, but...

me most of all.

I understand now.

I was the spawn of the man who took everything from her.

Her love,

her freedom...

even her family.

I think I was maybe six years old when she died.

She contracted the morbid sore throat.

I remember she summoned me to her chamber.

What did she say?

Sois un bon garçon.

"Be a good boy."

It wasna fair for her

to blame you for what happened to her.

I wouldn't expect fairness from one whose life

was filled with so much cruelty...

at the hands of such a villain.

Le Comte St. Germain...

in France, he tried to kill milady.

And now to learn that he sired me...

You are not him.

I know that better than anyone, my love.

But if you are truly his heir,

then you can use what he's left you for good.

If you take this Beauchamp up on his offer...

That man is a whore. I should know.

He's likely been one all his life.

Monsieur Beauchamp is too old to sell his ass, of course,

but he would sell himself from necessity.

All he's asking, though,

is that you sell him some land, no?

Land that you have a right to by birth.

Yes, but why?

What effect will that have,

selling it to these interests in Paris?

They want to install a French colony

on American soil, but...

we've devoted ourselves to the Patriot cause.

We're not fighting to be free of a British king

just to become servants of a French one.

You dinna ken it'll come to that.

You don't know that it won't.

That isn't everything.

I ken you, Fergus Fraser.

Why is this offer so difficult to consider?

To claim this inheritance, this land...

I must publicly acknowledge

that Le Comte St. Germain was my father.

Monsieur Beauchamp told me what every orphan wants to hear,

that I'm the son of a great man.

But I'm already the son of a great man.

Do not worry, my dear.

Um, a French warship, the Truite,

has taken to firing her cannon on occasion.

Dreadful nuisance.

She's anchored on the far end of Hutchinson Island,

out of range to do any damage here in town.

I assure you,

you're perfectly safe.

Oh, glad to hear it.

So...

why didn't you tell William I was coming?

B-because, um...

because I didn't know how he would react.

It seems William has been, um... lost

since he learned the truth of his parentage.

But, um, you and he share

a rather unique experience,

discovering that James Fraser is your father.

So that's why you invited me here.

Not to paint a portrait of Amaranthus.

You think I can help William.

No, I-I-I do think that a portrait of his grandchild

and daughter-in-law will do my brother the world of good,

but... yes.

If there's anyone who can talk some sense into William

about his present difficulties,

it's you.

You could have just told me the truth, you know.

I would have come anyway.

I don't believe you've been entirely truthful

with me either.

Or should I ask precisely what, um, errands

your husband has outside the city?

Does it perhaps have something to do

with the Continental Army encampment there?

I-I-I could have been

more direct about my intentions for this visit,

but...

I couldn't take the chance you'd rebuff me now.

I-if there's one trait that James Fraser

has successfully passed to all his children,

it's stubbornness.

It's exceedingly difficult

to get you to do anything you don't want to do.

William...

William is the same.

My late wife, Isobel, told me that William was lost once

on his estate in Helwater.

He was, um...

three or so.

He was wandering alone in a fog on the fells.

Sometimes I see that.

Sometimes...

...other things.

You see those things when you're a parent.

Yes.

I can't make any promises...

but I will see what I can do.

Thank you.

Thank you, my dear.

Shh.

Jem and Mandy were a delight.

Rodney and wee Claire can't wait for their next...

what do they call it... a sleepover?

Well, I'm glad they weren't a nuisance.

Never.

Every child's a miracle.

You all right, Rachel?

Yes.

Thee is right, of course, Lizzie...

every child is a miracle.

Though in Oggy's case, the miracle is

how long he can scream without drawing breath.

Sometimes he sounds just like a catamount.

Well, we've all been there.

- Mandy, look! - Grandda!

Grandda!

Come on.

Come on, they're coming. Quick, quick, quick.

They're certainly happy to see their grandda.

Who's that with him?

I have no idea.

- Buck! - Ah!

Children! Come here!

Mandy. Jemmy, how are ye?

Granny, look, it's our cousin.

Buck! It's Buck!

Sassenach, may I introduce to you

William Buccleigh MacKenzie?

Claire Fraser. your reputation precedes ye.

As does yours.

You must have had a very long journey, indeed.

Longer than I ken how explain.

I told him he was welcome to stay on the Ridge

as long as he likes.

Of course.

You're family.

Come along. Come inside.

I'm sure you both must be starving.

Aye.

Ye don't happen to have any of those, uh,

peanut butter sandwiches, do ye?

What's troubling ye, mo chridhe?

There was a massacre up north.

A Mohawk leader, Joseph Brant, and a Loyalist captain

led a raid on a Rebel town.

I ken Joseph Brant.

The Continentals retaliated by sending an army after him.

"The Patriot Army marched along the Susquehanna River,

"razing every Indian village they could find.

"Forty villages were left in flames, and...

countless scalps were"...

Oh, Christ.

Is that not where Shadow Lake lies?

Where thy former wife...

Wahionhaweh.

Aye.

And-and thy son.

Tehiokas neh To'Tis...

Swiftest of Lizards.

Rachel...

...I must go north.

I need to know what happened to them.

Of course you must go.

And Oggy and I will come with thee.

I'm going to miss this little catamount.

You're going to be so much bigger by the time you return.

Is there really nothing I can say

to convince you and Oggy to stay?

I thank thee, Claire, but, no.

Would thee let thy husband travel alone 700 miles

to rescue his first wife?

You make a good point.

Mm.

I pray that we find Emily and her children safe.

But when he sees them, I want to be by his side...

so he doesn't forget the life he has here.

Does that make me wicked?

Oh.

No, Rachel.

That makes you human.

Here.

- Come. - Mm.

Rachel says ye mean to stop in Philadelphia

so she can go to a proper meeting.

Huh. Aye, she's missed it.

Yeah, I'd like you to go to the brothel there,

the one Frances lived wi' her sister,

and speak wi' some of the lasses.

A brothel?

It's no' enough I'm going to find my first wife?

It's to do wi' Frances.

Ask them about Jane, anything she said about her family.

We'd like Frances to ken more about them.

I'll find out what I can.

I, um...

I must say one more thing to ye before ye go.

Ye ken the book Brianna brought back,

the one written by her other father?

Aye. She told me.

Uh, Frank Randall?

It's about Scots in America...

about what they...

what we will do in the Revolution.

There's mention of a battle in the backcountry

at a place called Kings Mountain.

I've heard of this place.

Frank says I fight in it.

When will it happen?

October next, so he says.

Claire thinks he's bending the truth,

but, uh...

I'm more and more convinced he's not.

I'll be there with ye, Uncle.

There'll be time enough for me to do whatever needs to be done

in the north and make it home.

Hey...

dinna fash.

My da may be gone,

but I'll guard your left in his stead.

Thank ye, lad.

May ye be safe on your journey.

Private.

Good afternoon. Colonel Marion?

I'm Reverend Roger MacKenzie.

I apologize for interrupting you, but, uh, well...

you're a difficult man to find, and my request is urgent.

Are you here to volunteer?

Continental Army isn't choosy,

though I have to say,

the occasional minister we do get

doesn't usually wear his best clothes to fight in.

No, sir.

I've, uh, come to request your assistance.

My father-in-law owns 10,000 acres

in North Carolina.

A British major named Patrick Ferguson

has been stirring up trouble in the backcountry,

- raising Loyalist militias. - Hmm.

And as we are Patriots, we have decided to assemble

a militia of our own.

But we need weapons.

I believe you've helped arm others like us before.

Mm-hmm.

I can pay you.

I think we could possibly reach an agreement.

Uh, well, I have a letter from my father-in-law

with the particulars.

Your father-in-law is General James Fraser?

Aye.

Fellow who abandoned his troops at Monmouth

to tend his wife?

Aye.

James Fraser is- is an honorable man, sir,

and a very brave soldier.

The battle was already won when his wife was shot.

Is it true he signed his letter of resignation

on the back of a corporal in mud?

Actually, he wrote it in his wife's blood, but aye.

He didn't have a choice.

She was wounded when General Lee ordered him

to leave her side, which...

I'm sure the circumstances were quite extraordinary.

The fact remains that if it had not been

for Lee's trial and Lafayette's good word,

Fraser would have been court-martialed after Monmouth,

perhaps even hanged.

Ah, sir, our people are in danger.

Our circumstances here are quite dire as well.

We have precious few resources,

even with the assistance of our new French allies.

I can't afford to give what I do have

to someone who's already lost the Continental Army's trust.

Surely his years of service and sacrifice

to the cause would...

My answer is no, Reverend MacKenzie,

and it's final.

Then I'll take my leave, sir.

That's not possible, I'm afraid.

I beg your pardon?

We assault the city in a few days' time.

General Lincoln has ordered sentries

to detain anyone leaving camp

in an effort to prevent the deserters

from warning the British.

You can't leave.

I've come to ask for your help in fighting the British.

Surely you don't... you don't think

that I'm gonna leave here and assist them.

I have my orders, Reverend MacKenzie.

Sir, my wife is in the city.

I promised I'd return.

Every man here has made such a promise to his wife,

his mother, his son.

Many will not live to honor them.

You might.

I can find a safe place for you to wait out the battle,

unless you want to fight.

I can give you a good rifle.

No.

Oh.

Stay here and wait, then.

Things go wrong, you can help bury us.

Sir, wait.

Uh, I'm no-I'm no good with a rifle.

But if you can give me a sword, I'll fight with you.