All language subtitles for Outlander.S08E04

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.