Original subtitles

Previously…

He's been drinking more than usual.

He's taken a notion that he should've been there to defend us

with that bastard Lionel…

Lift your skirts!

Damn hand!

I have considered the matter and I will undergo your operation.

What am I gonna do without you with another bairn coming?

- What did he say? - Means he's a dwarf.

He's beautiful.

Amy McCallum's husband died a month ago.

She was left with two young bairns.

You've decided to pass along Chief Bird's request for weapons?

I'm recommending we do as they ask. The Cherokee will have their guns.

♪ Sing me a song ♪

♪ Of a lad that is gone ♪

♪ Say, could that lad ♪

♪ Be I? ♪

♪ Merry of soul ♪

♪ He sailed on a day ♪

♪ Over the sea ♪

♪ To Skye ♪

♪ Billow and breeze ♪

♪ Islands and seas ♪

♪ Mountains of rain and sun ♪

♪ All that was good ♪

♪ All that was fair ♪

♪ All that was me ♪

♪ Is gone ♪

♪ Sing me a song ♪

♪ Of a lass that is gone ♪

♪ Say, could that lass ♪

♪ Be I? ♪

♪ Merry of soul ♪

♪ She sailed on a day ♪

♪ Over the sea ♪

♪ To Skye ♪

There it goes!

- Hurry up! - He's floating!

Ah, come on!

- He's headed for the rapids! - There he goes!

Oh, it's Mr. MacKenzie!

There they are.

Come on. We'll catch them this way!

Wait. There's the basket!

Oh, no, the waterfall!

Right, ye wee bastards! Whose idea was this?

Don't you dare run!

Ye shouldna touch him, sir. Ye'll burn yerself.

Yeah.

They wanted to see if he'd float.

He did. Must mean he's the devil's seed.

Ma and Da said so.

He floated because he was in a basket!

I baptize thee Henri-Christian.

In the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Ghost!

Do you hear that?

His name is Christian.

He belongs to the Lord!

You trouble him again, and Satan will pop up

and drag you straight down screaming to Hell!

Germain!

Well, he's safe and dry and sleeping.

He wasn't hurt.

- All is well then? - "Well"?

I should drown the lot of them in a well.

If they'd harmed a hair on his wee head…

And you.

I turn my back for one moment.

I thought he was safe, sleepin' in his basket and you...

It was a test.

It seems their parents told them that children like Henri-Christian

are demon born.

And the water rejects their wickedness.

Thank God they didn't try to take him out of his basket then.

They were afraid to touch him. They thought he'd burn them.

And you believed this?

You think your brother is a demon?

I thought they'd leave us alone.

Ach, you know better than that!

Ah, just…

I'll talk to them.

Fergus, don't let it bother you.

Find your associates.

Tell them they're expected in my parlor before supper to receive a punishment.

Hmm. I'll go with you, lad.

Fergus.

In the mountain villages of France,

a dwarf child would be left for the wolves.

We won't let that happen here.

We'll surround Henri-Christian with love,

protect him,

and make sure he gets treated like everyone else.

- So he'd grow up happy and... - And after he's grown?

Will he have a happy life?

Marry?

Provide for a family?

I don't see why he couldn't.

Or why he can't be educated or learn a trade,

be able to work at something…

Something.

With respect, Milady, you have never seen the life of a dwarf.

And you have?

Yes, in Paris.

The house itself had girls, of course, and even children.

They're the bread and butter of the establishment.

But there are always those who desire the exotic,

and who will pay.

So every now and then,

the Madame would send for those who dealt in such things…

"The Master of Mushrooms?"

The Dwarf Master.

Les Chanterelles, we called them, the females.

The male, they were Les Morilles.

Exotic delicacies,

valued for the rarity of their twisted shapes,

the strange savor of their flesh.

They were not badly treated, les champignons. They were of value.

The master would buy such infants from their parents.

Or collect them from the streets.

I knew one of them quite well.

Luc, he was called.

We'd sometimes work together,

pickpocketing wealthy customers.

I found him one day in the alley,

with his throat cut.

So the Madame sent the doorkeep to fetch the body

and sold it to a physician.

They would cut them up to sell their parts for divination.

I'm so sorry, Fergus.

When I met you and Milord,

I found a world beyond the brothel, and vowed never to return to such a place.

That my son might find himself in such a life…

You can't think that Jamie or I…

That we would allow such a thing to happen.

No, you will not, Milady, but you will not live forever.

Nor will Milord. Nor I.

But the child will be a dwarf forever and that's my fault.

I wasn't there to protect my wife and he was beaten in the womb.

His condition has nothing to do with what happened.

You have to believe me, Fergus.

It wasn't your fault. I'm a physician. I know.

Fergus.

Fergus!

Mr. Christie.

I've been waiting for some time.

I wasn't sure how long you'd be.

Some of the youngsters put my grandson in the river to see if he would float.

I hope you've not been encouraging this kind of nonsense.

Mistress Fraser, I assure you, I have not.

I am an educated man.

I'm sorry that such a thing occurred.

Is the child well?

- For now. - Uh…

I'll speak to the boys and their parents. They know I disapprove of superstitions.

It's all right. My husband's handling the matter.

How can I help you?

It's been long enough, my other hand is healed.

'Tis time.

Good.

Come inside.

I'll prepare the surgery and the ether.

Ether?

I have agreed to the operation,

but I will not allow you to employ your potions upon me.

Why not?

It is the devil's work to use...

I thought just Highlanders were stubborn as rocks.

Stubborn as rocks?

- Mr. Christie is refusing to... - Mistress Fraser insists...

God wants him to have the surgery, but the masochist is refusing the ether.

- Masochist? - It's a word for…

people who prefer to suffer pain.

You always were an awkward bugger, Tom. Must do as you please.

I can tell you from experience, it does hurt a great deal.

She means to cut into your hand.

- I know that. - Aye.

But you have no notion what that's like. I have.

Claire healed my hand years ago. Hurt like the devil.

But hardly shows now.

Ye dinna want to suffer like that if there's a choice about it

and there is.

And I have made my choice.

Please don't tell Mama.

I'm not here to speak to your mother, Aidan.

My business is with you.

Mr. Fraser wants you and your friends from this morning

to come to see him before supper.

Otherwise, he'll come around, he will talk to your mother.

Stay with Aidan.

- Mistress McCallum. - Oh, thank ye, dear Lord!

- Ye sent the minister. - What?

I'm not exactly that, you know.

Aye. Maybe not exactly, sir.

But we enjoyed your sermon this past week, and…

Please, can you help?

Lizzie Wemyss brought me some milk.

I went to dip a bit out for Aidan, but, uh…

If it's not a devil's that's got into it, it's something else.

It's haunted, sir. I'm sure of it.

Shit!

It's just a wee bullfrog.

Well, not exactly wee, but he's friendly.

Uh, Miss Wemyss watches over a number of lads on the Ridge,

my guess is, one of them was playing a trick.

Why?

- Why has God brought me here? - Well…

We must trust that He has a plan of some sort.

Even if we don't know what it is.

To bring us all to this terrible place.

Take my husband from me and leave me to starve?

It's not such a terrible place.

And it doesn't rain as much as it does in Scotland.

I will never see it again, Scotland.

Will I?

I can't say.

But I won't let you starve.

That's all I can promise you. But I do promise it.

Oh, this is wonderful!

It's a muckle wheel.

I'll be better with some practice.

You made this?

Oh, Evan Lindsay helped. He knows which wood works best.

I'll work twice as fast, then I'll have more time for the bairns.

No!

Hey! Hey. No more fighting.

Or no more vroom until tomorrow. Yes?

Good boy, go on.

Why do you call them "vrooms?"

Uh, it's the sound that Jem makes when he's playing with them.

I wonder if Roger's having any luck rounding up the boys from this morning.

Not sure what good it'll do.

It's the parents who need thrashing.

I did expect them home by now. Fergus too.

I told Da we'd come around with the bairn,

and Germain, for whatever punishment he thought up.

And…

Fergus promised me he'd stop drinking.

Good.

I'm sure Fergus will be here soon.

It will get better. You'll see.

Thank you.

Here.

You might want to bite down on this for the pain.

I'd rather say my prayers.

Um…

At your convenience then, Mistress Fraser.

- Hold still, man. - Oh, God!

Jamie, the bucket.

You may experience some nausea, Mr. Christie, if you do…

- Aah! - …you can vomit there.

- Shall I stop? - No.

Shame to waste that much whiskey.

- "The right hand of the Lord is exalted." - Aye.

"The right hand of the Lord doeth valiantly."

- That's appropriate, no? - Go on.

"I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.

The Lord hath chastened me sore, but he hath not given me over unto death.

Open to me the gates of righteousness. I will praise thee,

- for Thou hast heard me." - Hast heard me.

- "God is the Lord…" - The Lord!

- "…which hath showed us light." - Aye.

"Bind the sacrifice with cords,

even unto the horns of the altar."

You must not move.

I need both my hands. I can't hold yours.

I was only coming to ask Mistress Fraser something.

But seeing as my father's in there…

All the more reason to go in if you're Auntie Claire's apprentice.

She called me her apprentice?

That's why you've been hoverin' about here all the time.

Is it no'?

To learn the ways of a healer?

Yes. But don't let my father hear you.

He doesn't like me to see him suffer.

Or to offend my delicate female sensibilities.

You seem strong enough to stand the sight of a wee bit o' blood.

And you'd be helping to make him well.

He's more worried about the health of my eternal soul.

Prefers that I keep my mind on that.

Well, rather than lingering out here, like two souls in limbo…

I'll walk with you home?

I'm not Catholic, so my soul won't be in limbo.

But yes, you may walk me home.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures,

he leadeth me beside the still waters.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil. For thou art with me."

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life."

It worked.

You'll have more motion once the wound is healed

and I have taken out the sutures, but, yes, it worked.

I would like you to stay here overnight in the surgery,

- so I can keep an eye on you. - Huh.

Why would your father ever be worried about your eternal fate?

I'm flattered you don't think he should be. But why not?

Are we not all sinners, Mister…

It is Fraser, isn't it?

It's Murray. My ma is a Fraser.

And, aye, we're all sinners, but a young lass like yerself,

surely you've done no wrong.

- Looks can be deceiving. - Hm.

I suppose if my ma could see me,

she'd be worried about my eternal fate as well.

My mother was not so spiritually inclined.

What do you mean?

- She was hanged as a witch. - Hanged?

When?

I was very young. I hardly remember.

We're almost home now. My brother will be home as well

and he'd not be pleased to see me walking with a young man.

Aye. Of course.

It is my understanding

that you wicked wee scoundrels

were eager to play wi' fire this morning.

There, nice and hot.

I have half a mind to burn ye myself.

Since you're growing men who mean to learn by doing,

there's a choice.

Touch the bairn…

or the poker.

Go on, make your choice.

- You go first. - I dinna want to!

He's a sweet lad, is he not? You can see that he is.

See there? You made him laugh. He likes you.

Good.

See, I told you he wasn't a demon.

Is it true?

What Mr. MacKenzie said about the bairn belonging to the Lord?

I certainly wouldn't argue with what Mr. MacKenzie says about that.

But whoever else he belongs to,

Henri-Christian belongs to me.

Best you all remember it.

Aye, Mr. Fraser, sir.

Help yourself to bread and honey and be on your way.

Henri-Christian also belongs to you, Germain.

He's your wee brother.

He needs your protection. You understand?

Yes, Grand-père.

Go on.

Papa. I'm so hungry.

Papa…

I'm real hungry.

Papa…

Dinna fash. Your ma's here now.

Have you been neglecting the bairns?

- How much drink have ye had? - If I'm still talking, then not enough.

Maybe I need another.

You promised me ye wouldna.

You're so much better than this, my love.

I've seen what drink'll do to a man.

I watched my mother put up with it. Me and Joanie suffered because of it.

And so help me, God, I will not put up with it again.

So please, Fergus.

- Tell me how to help you, please. - You can't.

I'm the one who's supposed to help you.

To provide for you and the children. To protect you and the children.

Then thank God Henri-Christian was with me this evening,

- and that he drinks his mother's milk. - What does that mean?

You think I'd let any harm come to him?

What a fine job ye'd do in that state.

You can't protect anyone when you're drunk!

You're right.

Only I wasn't drunk when I failed you before.

I can fight for us, too.

The burden isna only on you. I can protect us as well.

Not against men like Lionel Brown.

Aye, I can, and I did.

Let this be a comfort to you, Fergus, for I mean it to be.

Lionel didn't die…

I killed him.

What?

What did you say?

He threatened me. He threatened all of us.

He said he'd burn the house down over our heads.

So I filled a syringe with water hemlock and I stabbed him in the neck.

You killed him?

I was worried it would haunt me.

But it doesna.

An evil man is gone and no harm will come to us.

I don't need a woman to protect me!

But I do need a drink.

Thirsty, are you?

I hope that's quenched it.

Now, leave!

I said leave!

I am the man of this house!

Then you can come back when you're acting like one.

You promised me, Fergus Fraser!

And I will have a whole man,

or none at all.

What would you have done if they'd chosen the poker?

Let them have their punishment.

I hope they go home and tell their parents.

Aye.

On the other hand, if their parents think he's demon-born,

I'm his grandsire and you're his grannie.

What does that say about us?

It says you're of the devil yourself…

What's wrong, Sassenach?

Nothing…

I'm…

going to go downstairs, look in on Tom.

Mistress Fraser.

Mr. Christie.

You're slightly feverish. Here.

Easy.

I just want to see how your hand's doing. That's all.

It's throbbing a bit. Keeping me from sleep.

Why do you never wear a proper kerch or cap?

- Why should I? - Because every pious married woman should.

And,

"Every woman who prayeth or prophesieth with her head uncovered

dishonoureth her head,

for that is just as if she were shaven."

Are we back to St. Paul again?

Ever occur to you that man had quite the bee in his bonnet about women?

Besides, I'm not praying right now.

I want to see how this does overnight before I risk prophesying about it.

- It looks like... - Your hair…

There's a great deal of it.

- There is a great deal of it. - Hmm.

You should, um, move your fingers regularly.

To prevent the muscles from contracting while it's healing.

It will hurt at first, but you must do it.

Here, let me show you. If you take your other hand…

- …and you stretch out that joint… - Oh!

You should feel the pull go down the palm.

That's what's needed.

Here, try it.

Mr. Christie, are you hungry?

- A little, I suppose. - I'll fetch you something.

You should, uh, keep trying those exercises for a bit.

Aye.

Hello, cat.

Don't you be thinking any of this ham is for you.

I might be able to rustle up some milk for you, though. Here.

You were thirsty.

You should let that rest now.

Don't want the wound to start bleeding again.

Is there someone else in the kitchen?

- I heard you speaking to someone. - No.

It's just the cat.

And, no, he's not my familiar.

It's just a cat.

It's only slightly less ridiculous talking to him than talking to myself, that's all.

Hmm. I told you, I'm an educated man. I do not think you are a witch.

Oh, you don't?

So, don't you believe in witches? There are witches in the Bible, you know?

I did not say that I do not believe in witches.

I do. I said I don't think you are one.

- I'm very pleased to hear that. - Hmm.

I want to apologize to you

for my behavior this morning.

It's quite all right.

I can see how the idea of being put to sleep might seem peculiar.

I don't mean that.

I meant that I could not keep myself still.

I wouldn't expect anyone to keep still while I cut into their hand.

Not even your husband?

He said you'd healed his hand for him.

He didn't squirm when you did it, though, did he?

Everyone's different.

You wouldn't expect any man to do as well as him.

- I know that. - It's not what I meant.

I've stitched wounds and set bones for many men.

Nearly all the Highlanders.

They were terribly brave about it.

You know your husband bears the stripes of flogging.

- Yes, of course. - Hmm.

- But do you know why? - Yes, I do.

- But you don't. - Not all of them is true.

He arrived at Ardsmuir with a great many stripes,

but I know that he earned more while we were in prison together.

He claimed a bit of tartan.

- It was forbidden. - Do you know why?

It wasn't his. An old man's.

It was an act of extraordinary courage.

Incomprehensible.

How he could do it, you mean?

Not how, why.

He would do anything to protect one of his men.

Is that why, today,

his presence here…

Does he think I'm one of his men?

Because I assure you, I'm not.

I'm sure he doesn't. I'm sure it was simply an act of kindness.

And he would do the same for any stranger. As you would yourself, wouldn't you?

Hmm.

- Good night, Mr. Christie. - Mmm.

How was Tom?

He seems to be doing quite well, actually.

Is Tom afraid of women?

Or…

was he just afraid of sinning, I suppose?

He seemed so uncomfortable with me touching his hand,

or touching him at all, really.

Aye, I was like that too, after Ardsmuir.

It was shocking to be touched. Especially by a woman.

It would be weeks, ye ken, and we wouldn't think of it.

We were always starved, cold, worn to the bone.

Every now and then, something would change.

The fog of exhaustion would lift…

A story someone told maybe, a letter from someone's wife or sister.

Sometimes, it came from nowhere.

But ye'd wake to it, in the night.

In the dark.

Like the smell of a woman lying next to you.

Memory, longing…

need.

Some men would reach out to another.

Sometimes to be rebuffed by shouts or blows.

Sometimes not.

- And Tom? - No. Hmm.

Tom turned inward.

I was lucky. You helped pull me back from the darkness.

He was already at Ardsmuir when you arrived, wasn't he?

And then you both left at the same time?

When the prison was closed, aye.

Tom was transported to the colonies to serve his indenture.

- Why? - Malva.

She would be 18. Wouldn't she?

Wouldn't Tom have still been at Ardsmuir when she was conceived?

Maybe he remarried when he arrived in the colonies.

Did any of the men ever touch you?

No.

No one would ever think to touch me. I was their Chief.

They loved me. None would think ever to touch me.

- Did you ever want them to? - No.

I hungered for the touch of a hand. Only that.

I longed for it.

More than food, more than sleep.

Though I longed most desperately for sleep.

Not only for the sake of tiredness,

for when I slept, I dreamt of you.

My brother tells me you're a fearsome hunter.

Aye, I suppose.

Keeps me well fed.

As I used to say when my father'd ask me

what I must do to avoid the fiery pits of Hell.

"Be sure to eat well, and take good care not to die."

Well, yer father is, uh…

Must be difficult to live with the burden of such high expectations.

Hmm.

Sometimes I think people make mistakes and do the wrong thing.

But perhaps for the right reasons.

I suppose your uncle doesn't mind much what you do?

That you've markings on your face. Or that you're not…

a Christian, I suppose?

I dinna ken what I am

or what I believe.

But I'll always have a home with Uncle Jamie.

He'd give me the coat off his back if I asked him.

Or without asking either.

He loves you as his own son then?

Aye.

He's given me some land of my own to farm.

Must you pay him rent for Quarter Day?

No, not yet. I havena been farmin'.

I dinna ken if my place is here with them, or for how long.

Where else would it be?

He must think you're very worthy and capable.

Aye.

A man of worth.

Do they mean something?

That I've done much that I'm proud of and much that I regret.

- You've lived then. - I have.

There's no sin in that, I suppose.

No.

None at all.

What has it been? A week now?

Ah. That's healing nicely.

- Good. You've been doing your exercises? - Yes.

Yes.

I look forward to having its use returned to me.

Hmm.

I've been having trouble sleeping.

So I come down and read for a bit. I find it helps.

Do you read novels?

Uh, yes.

- Have you read Tom Jones before? - No.

My wife. She read novels.

But I did not approve of it. Then.

I threw them all away.

Can't imagine she was very pleased about that.

She was not.

- So what changed your mind? - Ardsmuir.

We had no books there,

but Mr. Fraser was accustomed to recount the stories he had read

to the other prisoners. Not Tom Jones, but others.

And I saw that fiction was perhaps not as I had thought,

merely an inducement of idleness and wicked fancy,

a confection of lies.

Surely there's a difference between lying and telling a distracting tale.

It was distraction, to be sure.

In such conditions, distraction is, uh, not evil.

While it is, of course, more desirable to escape into prayer.

Of course.

But it drew the men together.

You would not think that such men, crofters, Highlanders,

would find themselves in sympathy with such situations.

They were…

They were starved, cold, covered in sores, separated from their families.

Yet they could take comfort in never having suffered such vicissitudes

as had befallen these imaginary beings.

Would you like to borrow it?

Oh, no, no. I couldn't.

Please, I insist. It will be a good distraction for you.

And I will come and retrieve it in a few days

when I come to check on your hand.

Well, then, uh…

I must thank you.

I meant to say that…

Richard Brown came by our settlement this morning.

He offered us the protection of his Committee of Safety,

should we have the need of it.

I hope you refused him.

That man is… He's not to be trusted.

Please, come in.

Good day, lass.

Oh, Mr. Fraser, you startled me.

My father is fond of mushrooms so I was looking for wood-ears.

What will your father do when you've wed and left his house?

He'll need someone to do for him, I expect.

I dinna mean to be wed anytime soon, sir.

- We'll manage well enough. - Oh.

Surely you have suitors.

The lads swoon after you in droves, I've seen them.

Please, sir. Ye'll say no such thing to my father.

I willnae. I was only teasing, lass.

Hm.

Is your father so fierce then?

- I thought you knew him, sir. - I did.

I'm getting acquainted with him again.

Have ye enough wood-ears there?

I saw a great many yesterday up near the Green Spring.

I'm going that way, I can show you.

You're very kind.

Thank you.

Your brother, Allan, will leave home too, I suppose.

Maybe go down the coast?

- I ken he's not a farmer at heart, is he? - No, he's not.

He grew up in Edinburgh.

You have the same mother, your brother and you?

Of course.

You were born in Scotland or here?

Am I such a curiosity to you, sir?

'Twas Scotland. But I dinna much remember it.

Some say this place is like it, though. Do you think so?

Something like it.

Some parts. The Great Glen, the forest.

Aye, it's very much like this.

But there's no peat, of course.

And no heather. That's the biggest difference.

Ah. The mountains. The mountains are bonnie.

Here we are again, Quarter Day.

Thank you, Miss Wemyss.

I must drink this before Mr. Christie sees and chastens me.

What auld Tom doesna ken will not hurt him!

Lang may yer lum reek!

You sure you dinna need any help, Miss Wemyss?

Kezzie and I could pass some of that ale around.

Oh, aye?

As though every cup I give ye wouldna go straight down yer own two gullets.

I'm no fool, Josiah Beardsley.

We'll keep watch then. Make sure no one steals a sip uninvited.

If ye want to be helpful, go fetch me another barrel of ale.

Your good health.

It's good to get rest from the children.

Mrs. Bug was happy to watch them.

The stink from him.

Come. Come.

- Padraic MacNeill. - Ah, well done, sir.

Keep this up and ye'll have enough to feed a family of five.

- Where are yer two wee scamps? - They'll be off making mischief somewhere.

Gone looking for sweetmeats, no doubt.

Evan Lindsay, you've had a good year.

Aye, Mac Dubh. My crops have been blessed.

Time the good Lord blessed ye with a wife to spend all that money on.

Perhaps He'll introduce me to your sister since ye're spoken for.

Careful now. She's far too young for the likes of ye.

- And she's in Scotland, forbye. - Oh.

This looks nice.

I think we should set Evan up with Lizzie. What do you think?

If he can get past Josiah and Kezzie Beardsley that is.

What do you mean?

You haven't noticed.

They're very protective.

Your mother says that they follow Lizzie around like two puppies.

More like two wolves.

There you go. They've just gone to get some more.

I can send over the recipe if you'd like.

And I'll get Mrs Crombie to have a look at it.

Whatever you want to say to me, you might as well say it.

You've been staring at me all mornin'.

Staring at me like you stare at my son.

Have you never seen a man with one hand before?

Or a dwarf?

- Are we so hideous? - Hideously drunk.

But as to your son, I think "grotesque" may be the word.

But you tell us if you can bear to look at him yourself.

Hey!

Fergus!

Fergus!

- This madman attacked me! - Did you see what happened?

It was her fault mostly.

She shouldna have said what she did about the bairn.

I saw him throw whisky in her face.

Surely it's a curse from God for a child to look that way.

- How dare you? - "Drink is the devil's juice."

Isn't that what you always say, Mr. Christie?

Well, the lad's father is barely seen without a cup.

The Frasers have opened their doors to us.

We will respect them in the eyes of the Lord with pity

and kindness.

Mr. McGregor.

What's happened?

As we all settle in this new land

so far from the soil in which many of us were born,

I want to reflect on the words,

"Thou shall love thy neighbor as thyself."

I feel compelled to tell a story,

about a helpless child who was floated down a river in a basket.

His name was Moses.

Pharaoh ordered that all Hebrew boys be thrown into the Nile and drowned.

An edict that nearly killed the child who would later lead God's people to freedom.

It was fear that made him do it.

For months, Moses' mother kept him hidden, risking her own life

until he was too big to hide.

She placed him in a basket in the river Nile and prayed.

She entrusted him to God, in spite of her fear.

Many of you are parents.

To what lengths would you go to protect your innocent children?

You never know what you'll be willing to do until…

Fergus!

No, Milord. Let me be!

Let me die. This is the only way.

Marsali and the children need you.

This is for them.

Marsali can marry again

and find a man who can provide for her and her children.

Protect Henri-Christian.

- I cannot. - You can.

You know damn well I can't.

Roger saved him. You protect him.

I'm nothing.

I'm useless.

Useless?

You kept this family together while I was at Ardsmuir.

You helped me at my print shop when I was grieving for Claire.

And with this…

one hand you've made some of the finest whisky

that ever passed my lips.

You will do so again.

You're the only one who can show your son what a useless man like you can achieve.

And how proud he can make his father.

Ye dinna ken, but it is you.

Not what you do or give or provide.

It's you we need…

to come home.

My child, my son.

I'm not who I once was, Milord.

I don't know if I can be that man again.

You can.

You will.

I'm sorry. Never again.

Major MacDonald?

Mr. Fraser, Mistress Fraser, I come bearing gifts.

Your letter requesting guns was well-received.

And it appears the loyalty and readiness of the Snowbird Cherokee

could not have come at a better time.

The Boston Tea Party.

So you've heard? An inconvenience certainly.

I imagine the King will view it as an act of outright aggression.

Where would you like them?

We'll, uh, store them in the corncrib for now.

What does it mean, Sassenach?

It's starting. The storm. The war.

It's almost here.