Snowflakes slowly floated from the overcast sky, innocent fluffs dancing a downward spiral. The wind picked up, shifting their course horizontally. “Blasted cold weather,” William Mackenzie complained, indifferent to their beauty. “I’ve only the desire to be warm. Is that so much to ask for? Enough of this cold.” He shivered uncontrollably and tried to warm his hands on the small fire they had dared to build. “Would we could have a roaring blaze!” He shouted into the grey abyss above them.

“Pipe down, man!” Samuel Chandler hissed, unimpressed with the whining of the man beside him. “Would you ‘ave the whole of the King’s army breathin’ down our necks?” He studied the silent woods that surrounded the clearing. “As it is, I fear we are only a hair’s breadth away from discovery. These natives know these woods better’n I do.”

William dropped his head into his hands. “I can’t go on much longer.” He moaned. “It’s dark in the recesses of my mind. All dark.” Life on the run was taking its toll. “What I wouldn’t give for a hot bath,” he rubbed a dirty hand across his face, leaving a streak of dirt, “and a stiff drink. I am beyond weary, but what’s worse, I’ve lost it, man. I’ve got no drive. To rot with all this freedom business. It’s hopeless… Hopeless.” Tears slipped down his cheeks and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Sam eyed the man seated across from him at the fire. Grey hair matted with grease stood on its end, wildly framing eyes that looked wasted from a lack of good food and consistent sleep. He was cowering, a shell of the man who stood before the crowds of rebels but a short time before. Sam wasn’t sure how much longer he could put up with the sniveling, driveling depressed version of the fearless leader. “It shouldn’t be much longer now. We’ve done well so far, evading the claws of the law. Take heart, man.” Sam looked to the sky as though inspiration could be found in the sequence of the snowflakes. “We’re not far off from the river, that I know for sure. We just need to find my man there. He’s a good man, loyal to the cause. He’ll get us to the island, if it costs him his life.”

At a noise in the woods beyond them, Sam raised his finger to his lips. He slowly leaned forward and put out the fire before motioning the weeping man upward. Mack wilted, tucking his head further into his chest. Sam cleaned up their camp, removing evidence of their presence. He kicked Mack’s foot as he passed, silently creeping into the woods, senses on high alert. When Mack realized Sam’s indifference to his anguish, he scrambled to his feet to follow, afraid to be alone.

***

Meanwhile, in the gaols of Toronto…

Deep within the bowels of the city jail, there was no small fire offering a little warmth. No cheer from the licking of flames. No performance of the crystal dancers to mesmerize. Only a damp, stale darkness filled with a bone chilling foreboding. Cold stone walls, long callous to hopeless tears, surrounded the prisoners. Charged with high treason, Samuel Lount and Peter Matthews had been thrown into the darkest regions of the Toronto Jail. Curled in a ball, Lount squinted into the darkness of his small cell. Five feet and six inches wide, four feet and four inches deep. He’d counted. Many times.

“The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want…” his voice was hollow in the void. Every verse he had committed to memory was recalled and recited out loud. Many times. He could feel the despair encroaching. A darkness threatening to take over his mind. He could taste fear. Breathing deep the damp air, coughs erupted from his body. It was the darkness that bothered him the most. A complete absence of light. His eyes constantly straining, searching, hoping. He had not realized how much he needed light, how he had taken it for granted, always expected it to be there. At the strike of a match, at the dawn of a new day, as the hope of his soul.

The darkness and with it, the cold, sapped from him the desire to live.

Keys rattled in the distance, followed by the footfall of the guards. Lount held his breath. It wasn’t time yet for food. Or was it? Had he lost track of the minutes? What a relief that would have been. No, there were two men coming. He could now hear murmured voices.

The keys rattled at his door and slowly the door creaked open. Shocked by the sudden light, Lount cowered in the corner, covering his eyes all the while willing himself to drink it in. “You’ve got five minutes.” The guard slammed the door shut, but the light remained. Lount squinted and willed his eyes to work.

“Lount.” It was his lawyer, Robert Baldwin, formerly one of their own. Baldwin had agreed to defend the two rebels when few others would. His services cost them dearly, his experience in the court of law far beyond their own. Baldwin had insisted the men plead guilty to the charges of treason and beseech the judge to have mercy. Even now, Lount questioned the logic of the plan. He knew he was not guilty of treason. Far from it. It went against every fiber of his being to confess to something he knew himself to be innocent of. He felt that if he could just explain his views to the people they would understand and agree with what he had done. For his country. For them.

Eager to be free, Lount had Elizabeth scrounge all he had, forbidding her only from selling the farm. He had to leave something for Elizabeth should their plan not work. He feared the worst: a lifetime of banishment. He refused to let his mind wander through the implications of what that would be like, of life without her. And yet, he wouldn’t change a thing. He had done what God had told him to do and obedience to a higher call came with a peace of heart that defied all understanding. Surely such obedience would be honoured. Surely their case would be dismissed. Searching the grim face of his lawyer, a deep fear took root in Samuel’s heart, causing it to beat erratically.

“I’m afraid I’ve got bad news, man.” Baldwin said, cutting right to the point. “The judge had no mercy. It was Chief Justice Sir John Robinson, and he was ruthless. I laid out your case most eloquently, stressing your deep regret. The judge was unmoved. His ruling was swift. Swifter than I’ve ever seen. He…” At this point, Baldwin faltered.

“I’m to be banished, aren’t I?” Lount questioned in a raspy, dull voice. His worst fears affirmed.

“It’s worse than that I’m afraid.” Baldwin hesitated again before looking Samuel directly in the eyes. “The Chief Justice would like to make an example of your case in the way of capital punishment.”

Samuel blinked rapidly. What was the man saying?

“The judge has applied the death penalty.”

The words refused to sink into Samuel’s mind. Death. Death for refusing to cower. For being willing to forsake all for the cause of truth. For having the courage to defend the rights of future generations. It was absurd. He had taken no life, done no crime worthy of death. He had been the voice of caution, the words of wisdom.

“God knows.” Samuel whispered.

The image of Elizabeth came before his eyes. His stomach sank. Samuel turned his back on his lawyer. What good had this man done him? He curled himself into a ball and let the tears flow freely. He was an innocent man condemned to death.

Baldwin cleared his throat. “I am thrilled to tell you, there is a sure hope I can offer.” He shifted the lantern in hand. “If you would be willing to testify against the other rebels, give any information about their current plans, the judge would be favourable to your plight and reverse the penalty. Death could be avoided. You could return to your family. Freedom could be yours.” Samuel froze for a moment and Robert nodded agreeably, continuing. “Yes, things could be turned right around—“

 “Get out!” Samuel snarled as he lunged at the pompous, well-fed form of the man before him.

Robert jumped in alarm, banging into the prison door. “Get me out!” The door swiftly opened, and Baldwin hurried through, slamming it closed behind him scarcely escaping the attack.

Samuel felt the slam into the core of his being. He heard the keys rattle with a solemn finality. Darkness descended. “If you change your mind. Let me know. You could be free yet.” His lawyer spoke through the closed door and Samuel wished he could have closed his mind to his words, for the Devil latched up on them and whispered them into his mind well into the night. In many a moment of weakness, Samuel almost considered the lie. Almost allowed his heart to hope. His dreams were filled with images of Elizabeth and the children, wailing. Wailing in sorrow at the finality of his death or wailing in shame at his weakness as a traitor. He knew which he would rather.

For him, there would be no freedom. Betrayal would buy nothing but a life of misery. His fate had been sealed long before he was thrown into this dungeon of despair, and who was he to argue with the Almighty? He had been called to serve with his very life.

A calmness descended as his resolve strengthened. He still could hear the faint whispers of the devil, but it only bolstered his courage. He would serve. If it was an example they were looking for, that’s what he would deliver. An example of resolve and courage to the bitter end. Die he must, it would an honour.

***

The sun had almost finished its descent, evidenced only by a deepening greyness. The river’s frothy movement was accented by chunks of swirling ice, innocently disguising the powerful current below. William could hear the distant roar of the waterfall. The Niagara River was a sight to behold. He gleefully rubbed his hands together. Seeing the wooded shores of Navy Island now separated from him only by the foaming mass of water, his earlier despair became but a distant memory. “I knew this would be perfect!” he shouted to Samuel. “I can feel the energy. It’s… it’s invigorating!” He threw a fist into the air and whooped loudly.

“We’re not out of the woods yet, man. For the love of Pete, keep it down!” Samuel glanced behind them; fear etched in his face. He could feel the enemy’s presence. He had warned William several times to stay quiet and move faster, but the man was caught on an emotional see-saw. Now that they were at the river’s edge, the end was in sight. How bitter capture would be at this point. A movement in the trees caught his eye. Was it the red of a militiaman’s hat? Samuel knew well he wouldn’t see the natives until it was too late. “Hurry on, Mack. We’ve no time to waste.” A cardinal took flight, and Sam let out his breath, nerves on edge.

As dusk settled, a lantern swaying in the wind signalled the home of their riverside contact. At the sight of fire curling from the chimney, the men hurried forward, their strength revived. Their knock was answered by a woman round with child. “Is your husband home, ma’am?” Sam looked around her hopefully, his gaze met only by the solemn eyes of children seated at the supper table.

“Don’t I wish it. Stan said he’d be home by lunch. ‘This’ll only take few hours’, he said. I’ll be lucky if that man is home before I get all these kids into bed. And with another one makin’ its way into the world today, I’m wishin’ for once the man had kept his word.” She paused, braced herself against a chair and let out a long, slow breath. “Finish your supper now, children. It’s time for bed.”

Sam glanced at Mack, who was eyeing the pan of stew on the table. Their stomachs growled loudly.

“Would you be wantin’ somethin’ to eat?” the woman reluctantly asked.

“We would just be wanting a lift to the island, ma’am. That’s why we were lookin’ for your husband. Word is he’s a friend to the cause.”

At this, the tired woman stood straight. “Aye, that he is. A more loyal patriot you’ll never meet. I didn’t catch your names.”

“William Lyon Mackenzie.” Mack stepped forward and offered the woman his hand.

“Oh, I knowed I saw you somewhere. Liza, get me that poster that come by last week.”

A brown hair daughter obediently collected the wanted poster and brought it to her mother, who held it out to show the men. A picture of Mack stared back at them.

“Stan would never forgive me if I let such a man as yourself leave here with an empty stomach.” She pointed to the empty chairs at the table and nodded to Liza. “Get two more bowls.”

The men dug in with a flourish. Four pairs of eyes watched their every move. Just as they were finishing their bowls, the back door opened, and a burly man dressed in a thick woolen sweater and galoshes came through. He banged his boots noisily. “There’s a nor’easterly blowin’ in, Ruby Mae.”

“Don’t I know it.” Ruby Mae rubbed her extended stomach. “You’ve company.” She pointed to the table.

At that, Stanley noticed the men seated at his table. “Why, it’s the great William MacKenzie. I am so pleased to have you in my humble home. We’ve been waiting for your arrival. Rumour has it we will set up in a fortress across the river.” He seated himself at the table.

“That we are.” Mack nodded exuberantly. “We’ve drafted a constitution that would make our forefathers proud. I’m confident when we rally our troops, we’ll be no small force to reckon with. These government men will cower in fear at the sight of our united front.”

“You’ve not heard then,” Ruby Mae interrupted. “They’ve sentenced Lount. They condemned him to death.”

Silence reigned.

William’s shoulders slumped. Sam shook his head in disbelief. “Death?!”

“It’s why we need you men so desperately.” Stanley urged. “There ain’t no justice in this land anymore. Truth is turned into a lie. I couldn’t be prouder to be a part of—“

 “We’ve no time, gentlemen.” Samuel interrupted. “We’ve got to get across the river as soon as possible or we’ll be joining Lount at the gallows. I fear we are only hours ahead of our enemies. I’ve led them on a wild path, but they are bound to find us here, and I’d like to be gone long before that happens. This is no place for a confrontation and this woman is in no condition to have us about.”  

“Right,” Stanley jumped to his feet. “I’ve got the Carolina at the dock. We just got ‘er dug out the ice today, gettin’ ready to carry supplies and such to all our warriors. I will run you to the island right now. I’ll be back in jiffy, luv.”

Ruby Mae looked unconvinced.

No sooner had the men opened the back door than a pounding was heard at the front door. “Open the door in the name of the King.”

Stanley froze, unsure of where his duty lie.

“Go on then.” Ruby Mae nodded to him. “It’ll be hours yet before this babe is born.” She nodded at the pounding door. “They’ll do us no harm. I’ll stall them for as long as I can. Liza, hurry now and get in bed with the little ones. Not to worry, it will all be all right.”

The pounding at the door sounded again as Stanley rushed the fugitives through the door and into the field.

Ruby counted to five before she opened the door. “Oh, thank the Lord you came when you did. I’ve no one to help and my time has come.” Ruby Mae moaned loudly. “Please say you’ll help me..” 

Several men stood at the door, stupefied. They shuffled on their feet, unsure of what to do with the woman writhing in pain before them. From the back of the crowd, a voice was heard. “What’s the holdup? Are the fugitives here or not?”

The men moved to allow their captain through. “This woman needs our help, sir.”

Sir Francis Bond Head arrogantly surveyed the room quickly noting the bowls on the table. “Were there men here?” he demanded. But Ruby Mae only moaned and held her stomach. Head looked at her with disdain. “Larson, check out back.” He ordered a nearby soldier and gestured impatiently to one of the natives. “Well, can’t you help the woman?”

“I see a boat going across the river, sir!” Larson reported.

Head and his men rushed to the river’s edge and watched helplessly as the Carolina effortlessly forged its way across the Niagara River. The wanted man, William Lyon MacKenzie, shouted to the militiamen at the riverside. His words carried away by the wind, but his gesture spoke volumes.

“I can still take a shot, sir.” Larson’s fingers twitched on the muzzle of his gun by his side.

“We are under strict orders not to incite violence. All actions must be purely defensive.” Head rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “No, we’ll bide our time. Watch what they are up to. Strike when the moment is perfect.” He chuckled menacingly. Try as they might, there was no escaping the arm of the law. He would capture MacKenzie yet. And when he did, this man would pay for his treason. He’d make sure of that.