The Irish Spy

"Misses Campbell, why exactly did you kill this Iverson?" Hercules interrupted the conversation. Isaac almost choked on his mouthful of food while Ian downed his drink without hesitation. Ivy pressed her lips into a thin line. I gauged the room, thanking the God above that the children were eating separately.

"He was a shitty person." I rolled my eyes. I was leaned back in my chair, arms crossed over my chest. Ivy let out a few short breaths, signaling she was laughing. Hercules didn't seem to be satisfied by my answer so I leaned forward. I knew the story wouldn't settle well with Ivy or Isaac, but that was Hercules' problem to apologize for. I had nothing to lose anymore.

"He let his slaves be raped by the men with the whips. My husband helped Ivy and Isaac escape his tyranny. Then through some family grievances, I was kidnapped and sold to him. For two months, I was beaten by his men, I was a slave, and I was raped by Hugh Iverson. All while pregnant, mind you. Then, the day before I was rescued, Ivy's father, a young boy I loved dearly, and a few others tried to escape. Iverson ordered their deaths. So, I snuck in a killed him the night I was rescued." I explained. Ivy's jaw was slack by the time I finished my story. "Does that satisfy your need to figure me out?" I scoffed, taking a sip of my glass. Hercules only narrowed his eyes at me.

"And now you are on the run?" He questioned, leaning forward on the table. I let out a heavy breath, tossing the rest of my glass back.

"Why don't we talk about something else? Ian, how have your travels been?" Isaac interrupted, turning to Ian in his chair.

"They havena been well. I-" Ian started.

"Yes, that is why I'm on the run. I left my newborn and husband to run because I killed a waste of human life." My chair scrapped against the floor as I stood abruptly. I exited the little home, headed for the front porch where I found a chair. That is where I sat in the silence of the little town. Not far away was a cricket or two, chirping against the breeze, filling the emptiness. I twisted the ring on my finger gingerly, wishing to be anywhere but here.

The little town, village, whatever one would call this place, was quiet. There were minimal people who roamed the streets. It was truly remarkable what Ivy and Isaac had built. It was a community for everyone. Freed slaves, Native Americans, and everyone alike.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Miss Campbell." Hercules stood at the doorway to the home on my right.

"Don't worry. I'm not offended." I stated, not caring enough to look at him. Instead, I continued to study each piece of the village around. "I don't need the approval of an Irishman to continue on with my life."

"A sharp tongue." He chuckled. "I see why Ivy and Isaac like you."

"I speak my mind." I scoffed. "If you do not like it, leave."

"I like you." Hercules stated, finding a seat next to me.

"I don't much care." This man was starting to grate on my nerves. Hercules didn't seem to notice though. He stayed seated next to me, watching nature around us. Even the sound of his breathing annoyed me.

"So much for a peaceful evening." I muttered under my breath, standing to go back inside. Hercules' hand grasped my wrist as I passed him.

"I have something to ask you." He stated, tossing his head from the view in front of him to me.

"What?" I growled, snatching my hand from him.

"I need another spy to assist me." He responded.

"What makes you think I'd help you?"

"Because you don't like the British and you want the Sons of Liberty to prevail."

"Fine. What would you need me to do?"

"Deliver a letter. If you get caught, you have to destroy the message before the British can get their hands on it."

"Why me? I have a price on my head."

"Because you have nothing to lose."

"I have everything to lose." My hands found my hips, staring back at the man before me. He was crazy. I had everything to lose here. My family, my life, my friends. If I was discovered....

"If you do this, I'll get the price off your head." Hercules reassured me. I didn't know how he would do it but how was I supposed to pass it up.

"Fine." I spat, "Goodnight, Mister Mulligan."

Sleep didn't find me easily. It teased me, leaving me in a half sleep state for most of the night. My mind continued to race with thoughts of home. With thoughts of my family and my child. Being away from her was harder than I'd ever imagined.

Morning came quicker than I thought it would. And with the sun came Ian's departure. He said quick goodbyes before heading back towards home. He said he'd be stopping back at the stone circle to ensure Bri and Rodger had actually left or something like that.

The next few days were quiet. The quietest I had in awhile in fact. The blacksmith in town took me on, grateful for the help. Hercules left the same day as Ian without another word about the message he wanted me to be a courier of. Until one brisk Thursday morning he strolled into town. It was early enough for most to be asleep or preparing for the day in their homes. I was already awake at the blacksmithing shop. The blacksmith would be out for the day and I was left to run the shop on my own.

"Misses Campbell." Hercules said from the front room of the shop. I peeked my head around the door to the backroom, annoyed by the presence of the man I didn't like.

"Look what the cat coughed up." I grumbled, rolling my eyes. I dusted my hands on my pants, approaching the man.

"Like promised, the letter." He offered. "As soon as it's delivered, the price on your head will be gone. I already have things in motion."

"Who and where?"

"Samual Adams in Boston." Hercules buttoned his jacket closed. "And you'll need to wear a dress. And maybe cut your hair."

"Excuse me?" My eyes snapped to his face. "You said deliver this message. I will do that my own way."

"With all due respect, madam, there's still a price on your head. Every redcoat in North America is looking for you." Hercules chucked, leaning back on one of the tables. "You need to change something if you don't want to get caught."

"Trust me. For a very long time, people thought I was a man." I pulled a new hunk of metal from the nearby fire as it burned white. I laid it across one of the stones before snatching the letter from his hand. "I'll leave when the sun sets."

"Good, they're expecting you. Your name is Martin." Hercules stated, watching me as I'd begun swinging against the piece of iron. It was to be a new sword for someone in town. Without more words being spoken, Hercules left, disappearing to wherever he had to be.

And just like that, I dug myself deeper into the Revolution that would free North America from England. A wanted woman digging a larger grave for herself.

After I finished at the shop, I did as I promised. I went to Isobel's home, where she helped me bind my breasts down and pin my hair into a hat. Isaac also provided me with some of his clothes, as well as a pistol and sword, completing my transformation into the man I had once been on the boat. As long as no one got too close, I could pass for a man, another lonely rider in the night.

From where I was, Boston was only a few hours ride east. With the letter secured in the wrappings around my breasts and the pistol at my side, I left my newfound safety on the promise to see my family again. The long journey wasn't what I'd expected. It honestly made me nervous. Not only was the price on my head growing with each day that'd past by, but I now held a letter that could have me tried for treason too.

I reached Boston at night, thankfully avoiding any of the British patrols that roamed the streets. The Quartering Act was in full swing, especially after the Boston Tea Party, and I had no way of knowing whether the house I was supposed to be at would be inhabited by enemies.

Undeterred by the danger, I tapped on the back door, remaining in the shadows to listen for danger. An older gentleman with small, circular glasses answered the door.

"Can I help you, lad?" He asked.

"I'm looking for Samuel Adams." I replied, stepping into the light to reveal that I was not a boy, but a woman. "My name is Martin."

"Inside, quickly." He ordered, glancing around the back alley. I followed him into the house, handing him the letter as he led me quickly to an office. Samuel didn't speak a word as he read the words carefully, trying to decipher the encoded message of the letter.

"Ah, this is...." Samuel started, peeling the glasses off his face. "This will change the tide of the war to come." He chuckled. Samuel dug through a drawer before pulling out a purse of coin to pass to me.

"No need. Hercules is handling my payment as we speak." I stated, not taking the coin.

"And what payment would that be?" He asked, tossing the letter into the fire.

"The price on my head." The words devoid of any emotion, for there was no regret or joy over my actions. I had taken a life without batting an eye about it. Samuel Adams only grunted in response, then scribbled a new note and passed it to me.

"Take this back to Hercules. It will help in his efforts to free you." Samuel closed the letter and stamped it closed with hot wax.

"Thank you, sir." I nodded, tucking it into my shirt.

"May I ask your name, madam?"

"Faith Fraser Campbell."

"Ah, yes. I've heard of you. The woman from North Carolina who murdered a wealthy landowner." Samuel smirked. "Heard he deserved the fate he got. Pleasure to meet you. I hope we meet again." He stood from his seat and shook my hand.

"As do I." I nodded. This was one of the men my Ma and Brianna told me about. One of the men who would create America.

Samuel showed me out the back door once more and I left for my new home. The journey remained the same. Boring, dark, sticking to the shadows. Except when I passed through a smaller village. The British presence was thicker than before.

"You there!" One of the soldier pointed to me. I was caught. In a split decision, I drove my horse faster, back into the woods. I gripped the reins of the horse, racing through the dense forest for even the smallest place to take cover until the British passed. My heart pounded in my chest as I feared the soldiers that were hot on my trail. Their shouts for me to stop echoed through the forest. My horse galloped with powerful strides, taking the narrow trails less visible to the British.

The sun began to filter through the leaves, casting fleeting glimpses of hope as I prayed for the freedom of escaping the British. If I didn't reach home before they caught me, I'd swing. Unfortunately for me, I reached a cliff side as the British caught up.

"Misses Faith Campbell." The head redcoat stated. I recognized him from Wilmington. "If you'd be so kind, dismount your horse. You are under arrest for the murder of Hugh Iverson." He commanded, motioning for two of his men to bind my hands when I dismounted.

Fuck.