All language subtitles for outlander_s8e4_muskets_liberty_and_sauerkraut

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.

Do you think Frank is torturing you?

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

Well, Cameron, he read my gate. I'll
tell him to travel by accident. No one

the ridge.

Cairns of the Scald's existence.

Can I let them find out? Daddy's book
warns of a battle coming to the

backcountry. We're going to 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 surely mistaken if you think

I will allow it.

I have reconsidered your plan to get
guns to arm the ridge.

Still be dangerous?

Randall's book says the battle to end
the siege of Savannah will be on the 9th

of October.

Continentals will fail.

The battle will be bloody, but it will
not reach the centre of the city. So if

you wait out the fight in there, it
should be safe enough, as will Fergus,

Martin.

And the children can stay here without
the call.

Take this to Lieutenant Colonel Francis
Marion.

The book says he'll be with the
Continental Army in Savannah.

He's a great deal of experience with
militias.

I 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 bathroom.

You'd think you'd at least have the
decency to shine, like in a film.

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.

Sing me a song of a lass that is gone.

Say, could that lass be I?

Mary of soul.

All that was good, all that was fair,

all that was me is gone

A song of the lost that is gone Say,
could that last

be ours?

It's a wee gift from Jamie and Claire.

Sauerkraut.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh. Oh.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.
Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.

Oh. Oh.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.
Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.
Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.

Oh.

Oh

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 the minor
detail out of our letter to you. I don't

imagine you intend to traipse into an
army camp with the king's ransom and

bullying.

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... Try.

Of course you can leave the government.

Fergus has got plenty of hiding places.

I won't be surprised if you find the
Crown Jewels.

It shouldn't be for long.

No trouble.

Now can we please seal these barrels
tightly until I can find some Germans

Eat this.

Let us take with the golden ring to our
reunion.

It's been too long since I've tasted my
Lord's divine elixir.

To be safe, do you

think you should leave for the camp now?

I don't know, Fash.

There's plenty of time to find Marion
and be back before the battle.

I'll be trying. I'll speak to you on my
way.

Cunningham wasn't exaggerating.

Collecting rent, trying to ascertain the
loyalties of the settlers.

That arousing suspicion.

Most of the families here are loyal to
the crown.

Some of those who aren't would be
reluctant to join a militia that oppose

I can only try to recruit them without
risking it.

Getting back to Cunningham.

Surely the odds of your men will fight
when it comes to it. Of course.

And a few others, but it will only be
enough. We'll need to...

The crude men from further afield.

I leave today with Ian and Josiah.

They can the outposts that have cropped
up while we're away.

You can't keep cunning him, waiting
forever.

He's going to realise 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.

He told me his commander is Major
Patrick Ferguson.

Frank wrote to the man.

He's the one that formed the loyalist
militia that fight at King's Mountain.

I'm still not sure of Frank's motives in
writing that book.

Aye, but what he wrote happening before
our eye.

Am I Cleveland and now Cunningham?

Speaks of Major Ferguson.

But that's not proof that you fight.

He could be lying.

The book says that Major Ferguson is
vicious.

Ruthless, on the battlefield, then off.

Burning the homes of rebels without
warning, forcing their allegiance.

I'm not certain I will fight, Cleopatra.

If Cunningham is forming a militia, we
need to be ready.

Regardless of the book.

To Muscat, liberty and telecraft.

Fine, Jeff.

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 had the doctor, soldier,

minister.

Thought we needed an armorer.

Ah, makes me think. And 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 Bushell.

Either of you familiar with this man?

No.

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
Bushell?

I mean, obviously the English pronounce
the beach in, but that's quite a

coincidence.

Are you two all right?

I'm fine, are you?

Yeah, I didn't bother to put a note on
it this time.

This time?

Well, this has happened before.

Oh, some horrible threatening letters.
Phil, a bag full of dead rats, another

with a serpent.

The bastard escaped.

Wait, what is going on?

These days, when people don't like the
news, they tend to blame the printer.

If someone discovers a Patriot...

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, and trying to not anger one side,
you end up angering both sides.

It's the life of a news printer in these
troubled times.

Yeah. Any weapons?

Aye.

Just one rifle towards the three of us.

That will not do. No more.

No more hunting. No, nothing, Victor.

Doesn't matter.

I'm expecting a shipment shortly.

When the time comes, you'll each have
your own musket and shop.

We'll ride with you, Mr Fraser.

Excellent.

Just I'll take down your names.

What's your surname?

Miller.

Uncle.

What is it, lad?

Maybe it's nothing.

We've recruited three more men.

There's this Scottish fellow over
yonder.

When he heard I was from Fraser's
Reggie, he mentioned he was heading

himself.

But he can't, Roger and Brianna.

I'm Scotland.

I said you're looking for them.

Cameron. Hi.

James Fraser.

I understand you're acquainted with my
daughter, Brianna McKenzie.

I am. Aye.

You're Robert Cameron, eh?

Christ, no, man.

No Rob Cameron.

My name is William Buckley McKenzie.

Can't you tell Roger and Brianna that
Cameron won't be bothering them again

until they return Roger's wee book?

Don't want it falling into the wrong
hands a second time.

Mackenzie. You remind me of your father.

Perhaps when you finish painting Lady
Grey, you could paint a portrait of

Marcelie 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 without a
battle with imminent.

I'll return it as I may be able.

Okay. See you. See you soon.

Well, then, look, 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

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.

Sense them.

And 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.

Longing.

I wish Jane would want me.

For me.

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.

Jane, you used to whisper, goodnight,
Marcelline, before we went to bed.

She spoke French?

A little.

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

Jane used to tell me about our parents
before bed.

To help you keep the memory alive.

She would tell me good things.

Or funny things.

But we would never talk about anything
serious.

She'd talk to the other girls at the
brothel. I know she was trying to

me.

Sometimes I wish she hadn't.

I'd better go close that window.

And your little dog, too.

What did you say?

Miss Cunningham's coming.

Could you show her into the parlour?
I'll be right there. She's probably come

for the slippery elm powder I promised
her.

Good evening, Miss Cunningham.

Do you want to wait in the parlour?

I most certainly will not wait in the
parlour.

I need help.

Frances, chair.

Go get some whiskey, please.

What happened?

Fell.

Tripped over the scuttle like a fool and
fell on my shoulder.

Don't worry.

I can fix it.

I wouldn't have staggered two miles
through buggering brambles if I didn't

you could.

And where is your son?

In a way.

As I thought.

Dislocated.

Fanny?

I'll hold her tight here.

That's it, Elspeth.

This is going to hurt.

Ready? No!

Crows coming out of a buggering throat.

What, child?

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

Well, if you have to do with soldiers,
young woman, you acquire their vices as

well as their virtues.

Where in my house did you hear language
like that?

I lived in a brothel.

Indeed.

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 think that would be classed as a
skill rather than a virtue.

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 grasscombing.

Is it actual bad language?

Or is it just descriptive?

Well, it usually applies to someone who
is either idle or incompetent.

Why combing grass should invoke either
attribute is unclear.

But it isn't actually bad language
unless the term bugger is applied.

I've never actually heard it without
bugger.

You must have heard much more if you
were travelling with the army.

Oh, it's worse than you think.

My first husband was a sailor.

Well, I believe you've 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 than 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

either case, thank you.

I am.

Bloody hell, it's you.

William, would you like to invite our
guest in?

She's had quite a long journey.

Forgive me, Miss 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 by
Countess Grey, my late nephew's widow.

A 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 if I don't tell
you to come.

Where is it you traveled from?

North Carolina.

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 attending
to an errand outside the city.

It's time for Trevor's bedtime feed.

It was a pleasure, Mrs. McKenzie.

Yes. Well, 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, Jim 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 that's...

A bit late for that.

To lie about the truth, I mean.

I do apologize for not telling you.

But Lord John and Dara 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 wouldn't have known how to respond to
such a revelation at the time.

And you do now?

No, I bloody don't.

But I haven't blown my brains out.

I was 18, I might have.

I apologise.

I didn't mean that with any derogatory
reference to you or your family.

Your family, you mean?

Thank you for coming, Monsieur Frager.

Allow me to send for wine.

Oh, 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 Saint -Germain?

Why?

You are his son.

I'm sure you'll have an explanation as
to how you came to the 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 oldest sister
began a torrid affair with the Count,

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 the tryst?

Perhaps the name of the woman in
question will convince you.

Amélie Levine 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.

That is where she gave birth to a child.

You.

And Monsieur Lecomte?

He was last seen more than 30 years ago.

And while no body was found, the
circumstances of his disappearance were

mysterious that a magistrate declared
him deceased.

His estate is currently held in trust by
a solicitor in Paris.

But... It would undoubtedly be released
should a petition be filed by his heir.

Unless the law in France is changed to
fleet, bastard cannot inherit

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 Amelie relinquished her
virtue at a high price by demanding the

marry her in secret before welcoming him
to her bed.

Allow me to congratulate you, sir.

You are not a bastard.

Assuming the document is enforced,
plainly you have something you want out

this.

Something Monsieur Le Contre might
accomplish for you?

Le Contre -Germain owned his estate,
still does own a majority of the stock

syndicate investing in land in the New
World, the main asset of which is a

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, in the court, the
solicitor refuses to sell the stock at

price.

But if legitimate were to appear,

the land would become his.

And my associates would pay 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.

To 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

I suppose you're right. She was a person
of some significance in my life.

Please.

I thought we...

No. It doesn't matter.

It's foolish.

Miss 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 8th Earl of Ellesmere and my mother

were married when I was born.

But the 8th 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 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 a person whose company one

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

Though English law makes that all but
impossible.

Well, you may not be able to renounce
it, but you can hand it on.

Abdicate in favour 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.

So we could retire into private life and
redact...

I can't imagine anything more tiresome.

Surely you don't mean to imply that
being married to me would be tiresome,

William.

I 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.

My son will be the Duke of Pardlo.

Well, 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 not only that, William.

Not to me.

How's the pain?

In my shoulder or my head?

Both, I suppose.

Bearable.

I wish the girl would refrain from
slamming doors.

That's not funny.

She's taking milk of Devon Lindsay's.

Then who?

Others make sound, Elsbeth.

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

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.

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.

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.

Perhaps there 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'd 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.

Amelie. They called her the Baroness for
a haughty manner.

Even then, I knew the name was cruel,
but until today, I didn't realize how

cruel.

Was she kind to you?

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 you say?

Sois un bon garçon.

Be a good boy.

It wasn't fair if I had to blame you for
what happened to her.

I wouldn't expect fairness from one
whose life was filled with so much

At the hands of such a villain.

The Comte Saint -Germain in France, he
tried to kill my lady.

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 that Beauchamp up on his
offer... That man is a whore. I should

know.

He'd likely be known all his life.

Monsieur Beauchamp is too old to sell
his art, 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?

He wants 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

French one.

You don't care that I'll come to that?

You don't know that I won't?

That isn't everything.

Again, you Vegas loser.

Why is it so difficult to consider?

To claim this inheritance.

This land.

I must publicly acknowledge that the
Comte Saint -Germain was my father.

Monsieur Beauchamp told me what every
orphan wants to hear, that I'm the son

a great man.

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

Do not worry, my dear.

A French warship that Treat has taken to
firing her cannon on occasion.

A dreadful nuisance.

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

Not in 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?

Because, um, because I didn't know how
he would react.

It seems William's husband, um, lost
since he learned the truth of his

parentage.

But, um, you and he share a rather
unique experience, discovering that

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?

I do think that a portrait of his
grandchild and daughter -in -law will do

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 errands
your husband has outside the city?

Does it perhaps have something to do
with the Continental Army encampment

I could have been more direct about my
intentions for

this visit, but I couldn't take the
chance you'd rebuff me now.

Trait that James Fraser has successfully
passed to all his children.

It's stubbornness.

It's difficult to get you to do anything
you don't want to do.

William... William is the same.

My late wife, Isabel, told me that
William was lost once on his estate in

Hellwater.

He was...

Three or so is wandering alone in a fog
on the fells.

Sometimes I see that.

Sometimes...

Other

things.

You see those things when you're a
parent.

I can't make any promises.

But I will see what I can do.

Thank you.

Thank you, my dear.

Jem and Mandy were delighted.

Rodney and Wee Claire can't wait for
their next... What do they call it? A

sleepover?

I'm glad they weren't a nuisance.

Never.

Every child's a miracle.

You all right, Rachel?

Yes.

Dee's right. Of course, Lizzie. Every
child is a miracle.

Though in Augie'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!

Grandad!

Grandad!

Come on.

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

They're certainly happy to see their
grandad.

Who's that with them?

I have no idea.

What?

What are you? Daddy, look, he's our
cousin.

But, but... Sir, may I introduce to you
William Buckley Mackenzie.

Sir Fraser.

The reputation precedes you.

As does yours.

You must have had a very long journey
indeed.

Well, maybe I can't help you explain.

I've told him he's welcome to stay on
the ridge as long as he likes.

Of course, in your family.

Come along.

Come inside.

I'm sure you both must be starving.

Aye.

You don't happen to have any of those
peanut butter sandwiches, do you?

What's troubling you, McCrea?

There was a massacre.

Up north.

The Mohawk leader, Joseph Brandt, the
loyalist captain, led a raid on a rebel

town.

Ken Joseph Brandt.

The Continental's retaliated for sending
an army out there.

Patriot army worked along the
Susquehanna River raising the Indian

confined.

Forty villages were left in flames and
countless scalps were...

Is that not where Shadow Lake lies?

With their former wife.

With your husband?

Yes.

With my son.

With your son.

With your son.

With your son. With your son. With your
son.

And you didn't know what happened to
them.

Of course he must go.

I told you 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 Obby 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.

I pray that we find Emily and her
children safe.

When he sees them, I want to be by his
side so he doesn't forget the life he

here.

Does that make me wicked?

No, Rachel.

That makes you human.

Yeah.

Rachel says he means to stop in
Philadelphia so she can go to a proper

Aye, she's missed it.

I'd like you to go to the brothel there.
The one Frances lived with her sister.

Speak with some of the lasses.

A brothel?

There's no enough I'm going to find my
first wife.

It's to do with Frances.

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

We'd like Frances to come.

More about them.

I'll find out what I can.

Yeah.

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

Ken, the book Brianna brought back.

The one written by her other father.

Aye, she told me.

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 back
country at a place called King's

Mountain.

I've heard of this place.

When will it happen?

October next.

So he says.

Clear thinks he's bending the truth, but
I'm more and more convinced he's not.

I'll be there with you, Uncle.

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

make it home.

Eh?

than a flash.

But I may be gone, but I'll guard your
life in his stead.

Thank you, Lord.

On your journey.

Who's a bit rich, you both are. I
mean...

Good

afternoon. Colonel Marion.

I'm Reverend Roger McKenzie.

I apologise for interrupting you, but...
You're a difficult man to find, and my

request is urgent.

You're a volunteer?

The Continental Army has been choosy. I
have to say.

The occasional minister we do get
doesn't usually wear his best clothes to

in.

No, sir.

I've 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 the loyalist
militias.

And as we are patriots, we've decided to
assemble a militia of our own.

But we need weapons.

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

Mm -hmm.

I can tell you.

I think we could possibly reach an
agreement.

I will.

I have a letter from my father -in -law
with the particulars.

Your father -in -law is General James
Fraser?

Right.

A fellow who abandoned his troops at
Monmouth to tend his wife.

Aye.

James Fraser is an honourable man, sir.

And a very brave soldier.

The battle was already won when his wife
was shot. It's 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
them to leave our side, which... I'm

sure the circumstances were quite
extraordinary. The fact remains that if

not been for Lee's trial and Lafayette's
good word, Fraser would have been court

-martialed after a moment, perhaps even
hanged.

So, our people are in danger. Our
circumstances here are quite dire as

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.

Which really has years of service and
sacrifice to the cause. My answer is no,

Reverend McKenzie, in its 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 think that I'm going to
leave here and defeat them?

I have my orders, Reverend McKenzie.

Duh! 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.

If things go wrong, you can help bury
us.

Don't wait.

I'm no good with a rifle.

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