#withoutworry

         She wanted to embrace him as well, but in that moment something happened that she could not explain. Not then and not later. Like in an open vision, she again saw all the events that had gone before the moment when he had called her 'a vixen' at castle Leoch:

         Claire saw as Willie disappeared into the forest and she saw herself running to the standing stones.          Then she had to face the redcoats again, who violently drove her away to the English fort. And there he was: Black Jack Randall. His sight hit her like a blow. But the monster faded away quickly and she saw Jamie in the window of Randall's office. After a conversation that seem to last for hours, she felt Jamie's hand and than her coat over her shoulders. The ancient walls of the fort rushed past her inner eye until she looked into a dark bottomless pit. And then she fell into the depths. Water was all around her. But in the midst of her fear that she might crushing on hard ground or drowning in the dark water, she felt Jamie's firm grip and she knew he would not let her go. Not then, not ever.          The images in front of her inner eye and the emotions associated with them increased in speed. She felt the warm body of a horse under her. With it came a feeling of security. But only moments later, she saw Jamie. His face was desperate, then it got angry and in the end he just seemed to be exhausted. And she felt as if a cold, invisible wall was sliding down between him and her. Shortly after, she saw an inn. But she felt no sense of relief. The men around her and Jamie, the friends from Leoch, seemed like strangers to her and then something cold took possession of her. But suddenly she felt the warm, soft mattress, cushions and blankets of a bed around her. At last she would be able to rest, maybe even sleep. The door opened and Jamie entered. What a reassurance, what a pleasure! Claire wanted nothing more than to feel him next to her, his warmth, his tenderness. Falling asleep in his arms was all she yearned for. But when she asked him to come to her, he reacted very differently. He pulled his belt and ... How could he do something like that to her? How could he betray her like that? Claire thought she had to vomit. But the vision did not leave her any time for that. She saw herself in the dining room of the inn and felt the mocking looks of the men of Leoch. Once again she felt the warm body of a horse beneath her, but that good feeling was completely suppressed by the pain Jamie's belt had left behind. There was nothing but pain, overwhelming pain. Her body ached with every movement. But it was the pain of her soul that threatened to overwhelm her. It sucked every ounce of strength out of her being.

         Castle Leoch became visible on the horizon and a moment later she felt herself racing down the centuries-old corridors as if she had to flee from a mortal enemy. She still could not believe it, but the man she tried escape from was her husband, the man she had trusted. They reached their room and she heard him scolding. But she was not capable of more than a snide response. He left and slammed the door behind him with force. Claire saw herself going to bed. Jamie had come back and talked to her. She answered, but she did not really care for what he had to say. When he began to undress, she looked at him sharply and asked: "What are you doing?" His answer came slowly and carefully: "I thought ..." She grabbed all the blankets she could get and said: "Think again." The tone in her voice was sharp and cold. But as she spoke, she felt that the blade she had pointed against Jamie was cutting right into her own heart. He took his jacket and left. Again she was overcome by a feeling of coldness and it seemed to her as if it did not want to end anymore. She wished nothing more than to have him next to her, but her anger and pride did not allow it. Would the rift between them ever heal again? Would they ever be able to trust each other again? Where would he go? Would he go and console himself with another woman? Deep inside her she knew that neither of them would find sleep that night.          It felt like days were passing. Then Claire saw herself sitting in front of the mirrored table in her room. Jamie came in. He looked different. A kind of nervousness emanated from him. He told her that Dougal and Colum had reconciled. She paused for a moment. Did she hear hope from his words? Hope that they, too, could reconcile? Then he said that Column and Dougal reconciliation had made him think. And suddenly he was kneeling in front of her, defeated, sad, and hurt. He pulled his dagger out of its scabbard, put it on his own breast, gave her the oath of allegiance that he had denied Colum and vowed that he would never again use his strength against her. He had spoken of Lallybroch and how he had hoped to that this place would be their home. But when she tried to comfort him about the loss, he declared without hesitation that she was his home and she alone. In his eyes she had recognized a mixture of despair and longing. And when he asked her if she would have him, her heart answered out of the same longing. What followed was not the tender lovemaking they were used to, but a kind of fierce battle.

         Claire felt as if everything was spinning around her. Her head and stomach rebelled against everything she had seen. Jamie and she had reconciled and later, after the events at Cranesmuir, they had shared their last secrets. They had talked about it and forgiven each other. Why was she hit by her remembrance in such a hard and cruel way? 

         Jamie had no idea what had happened to the woman he tried to hold firm in his arms. But the physical signs of her experience were obvious to him. Seconds after he had pulled her to him, she had begun to tremble all over. Her breathing had accelerated. Welding drops became visible on her forehead and her face went white like chalk. He had spoken to her several times, calling out her name, but she had not responded. She was limp in his arms and if he had not held her tight, she would have slipped to the ground. The whole experience took only a few minutes, but it worried him to his bones. The only thing that gave him hope was that she was breathing. 

         Then she opened her eyes. 

         "Claire, what is going on? Are you sick? How can I help you my dear?" 

         "No … no Jamie … just get me to the table … that I might sit down." 

         He did as she had asked and slowly her breathing returned to normal. When he was sure she would not fall off the chair, he went and brought her a mug with fresh water. 

         "Claire, what happened?" he asked while he gently stroked her left hand. 

         "Not now, please. I will tell you. But please not now. Just let us eat and go to bed." 

         "All right, but if I can do …" 

         "Yes." 

         She rested one hand reassuringly on his arm. 

         "I know, Jamie. Trust me, if I need your help, I'll say it." 

         They ate in silence for a while, but then Jamie saw the grief of the past days return to Claire's face. And she saw, that he knew. 

         "It's the same stew for dinner as all days of this week, I know, but …" 

         "Claire," he said and he wanted to add, "do you remember, when …" But he didn't. She had asked him this question once this evening and something bad, something inexplicable, had happened to her. So he thought he should better avoid that kind of question. 

         "Yes, Jamie?" 

         "Once I told you, that I had eaten grass and from that experience I can ensure you, this stew tastes heavenly even if I get it every evening for dinner." 

         She leaned over and stroked his arm again. Jamie could not resist her face, which was now full of joy and love. He reached out and stroked her cheek gently.  The he pulled her head carefully towards him and kissed her softly. When they broke, she said: 

         "I love you, I truly love you." 

         "And so do I Sassenach." 

         "Let's finish and go to bed." 

         "Aye." 

         While Claire cleaned the dishes, Jamie locked the main gate and made his usual evening walk around the yard. When he was sure that everything was in order, he entered the house, where Claire handed him the washing basin. He took it and poured the water into the drain in the yard. Then he locked the door and, after placing the washing basin at its place in the kitchen, he took the night lamp from the table and followed Claire to their chamber. When he entered the room, Clair was already in bed. 

         "Get changed quickly," she said smilingly. 

         He did and only two minutes later he slid under the blanket and to her side. 

         "How can I serve my beautiful wife?" 

         "Just let me rest at your side and I will try to tell you what happened," she answered. 

         He put his arm and shoulder around her and she crawled into his embrace. 

         "Tell me, my love. I'm with you. I'm here for you." 

         "I had … I had an experience. When you pulled me to you and I closed my eyes … I … I saw … things … no … I saw all that happened before … before you called me 'a vixen' that night at Leoch." 

         Jamie looked at her questioningly but said nothing. He needed all his strength to suppress his inner unrest. 

         "I mean all that happened. My run to the stones, the redcoats capturing me, our escape from the English fort, our quarrel and … what happened at the inn."           Jamie looked sad, but she gently stroked his chest and said: 

         "Don't worry. Everything is fine between us. Everything is forgiven and I will not dig it up again." 

         He nodded and tried to smile. 

         "As I said, I saw all this again and also what happened in Leoch that night when you came from that meeting with Colum and Dougal." 

         She went silent for a moment, gathering strengh for what she wanted to say. 

         "Jamie, I am so thankful that we reconciled at that time. But I've always wondered what happened to us back then. What really happened?" 

         He knew what she meant. He knew it exactly and so he pulled her even closer so himself. 

         "We were both very angry. Each of us thought he was right. We didn't understand each other because we didn't know that we came from different times. We were full of anger, but we were also full of love. The first part that night was like a battle, but then our love overcame our anger and we knew that nothing ever would be stronger then our love for each other." 

         When she did not reply, he continued. 

         "Claire, I had felt it all the time before, but … since that night … I was absolutely sure that I would never feel whole again without you." 

         She raised her head and looked at him. When their eyes met, he saw tears in her eyes. He wanted to pull her up to him and kiss her, but then she said: 

         "When you took me to the stones ... after the trial in Cranesmiur … I really thought about going back … I could not do it but ... I ... do not think that I made my decision at the stones. Not … really …no, I am absolutely sure that I made my decision that night in Leoch." 

         Jamie said nothing, but she sensed that he was waiting for her to fill in the gaps in her story. 

         "You know, the other morning we found this ill-wish under our bed ... Later that day I went to the kitchen. I wanted to confront Laoghaire and I did. She has ... she insulted me badly and ... and I slapped her." 

         Claire took a deep breath. 

          It had been the same in June, when the currants had ripened. Claire had discovered them shortly after she, Jamie and Fergus were brought here in February and had been given the farm. There were ten bushes that stood on a small piece of land that connected the garden with the meadow behind the stables. Seven of the bushes carried red currants. These bushes were of a smaller species. Behind them were two really large bushes of black currants. And hidden in the midst of all these bushes was an isolated smaller bush of white currants. Many of the red and white currants they had eaten fresh for dessert. A part of them Jamie had taken to the market. But the blackcurrants, which she knew were especially rich of vitamins and minerals, Claire had made into juice and preserved with alcohol. When Jamie saw what she was doing, he had jokingly asked her if she wanted to open a secret trade in liquors. As a result, she had taught him about the health benefits of the blackcurrant for half an hour ... He had rolled his eyes, thanked her, and assured her that he would not ask such a question again so quickly. She rolled her eyes, turned back to her work, and muttered something that sounded like ‘ignorant Scot’, but not without a little hidden smile. When they were finally able to enjoy the quietness of their bedchamber in the late evening that day, he had taken her hands and kissed them. Her fingers still smelled of the fruits. 

          "Have I ever told you how much I love your hands, Claire? They seem to bring healing and restoration to everything you touches here. With them you have made a home for Fergus and me out of this place. And out of the wilderness behind the house, you have created a garden that not only provides us with fruit and vegetables, but has become a small paradise in which we all can find peace. The work of your hands," he had whispered. Then he had kissed her hands again. 

          "And that's just what happens outwardly. I wish you could see what effect it has to Fergus, every time you hug him, tenderly run your hands through his hair. You really became his mother. Not only here. Not only through the adoption. Do you remember when we were searching for him after the battle of Prestonpans and he confessed to you that he probably killed a soldier? I will never forget seeing you two when you found him. You pressed him to your chest as if you wanted to absorb all his pain, all his exhaustion, the whole nightmare of having seen the darkness of war. If there ever was a day, Claire, on which you became his mother, it was that day. You pressed him to you and every touch of your hands said: ‘I care for you with all my heart.’” 

          Gently, he lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. Small rivulets of tears began to flow from them. She did not say anything. But in her mind she'd returned to the day they had feared they might have lost Fergus forever. When she finally found him, she did not know if her heart should burst with joy and relief, or if she should beat him for his carelessness. In the end, her heart had decided. But she knew that her heart had opened up for him much earlier and in a way that went far beyond the care that a person of mercy was able to give to an orphan. It was the night she'd found Fergus whimpering in his room. It was the night he told her about the terrible thing Black Jack Randall had done to him. It was the night he could not stop crying for blaming himself that Jamie had been arrested for challenging Randall to a duel and Claire had lost Faith. That night, she realized how much Fergus loved her and Jamie. Really loved them. That night Claire remembered a verse from the first Epistle of  St. John, written on one of the walls of the ‘L'Hôpital des Anges’: ‘Let us love, for He loved us first.’ She knew that these words referred to God. But could it be different between humans? Could she keep her heart closed to a person who showed her and Jamie so much love and care? She could not and she did not want it either. If there ever was a day, Claire had begun to think of Fergus as a son, it was that day. Jamie's soft whisper called her back to the present. 

        “Claire? Mo chridhe, what’s wrong?" 

        “Nothing, Jamie, nothing. I just love you both. With all my heart.” 

        “I know, Claire. And with your wonderful hands.”

 (”Speicherstadt Hamburg” by Karsten Bergamnn)  

North Sea Monday, August 25, 1749, early evening 

         His journey had gone well so far. Over the last days, Benjamin Smith had slowly become accustomed to the movements of the ship. After dinner with the captain, he had climbed up to the deck and leaned against the railing. The captain and the crew of the ship, which sailed under the flag of the Republic of the United Netherlands [1], left him alone most of the time. In particular, they did not ask any unpleasant questions as to why he wanted to leave Edinburgh under the cover of the night or why he was in such a hurry to get to Hamburg. Their welcomed ignorance was certainly helped by the special price Mr. Smith had paid for the trip - in gold.

        He enjoyed the fresh salty air and began to stretch his arms and legs. If the wind maintained that speed, he would reach the first destination of his journey in time. He had a ten-day lead and had to take advantage of that lead. The success of his mission depended largely on it. Last night he had already feared that he would not succeed. Although the actual autumn storms were still pending, the ship had to drive through a bad weather front. The thunderstorm and the ever-rising waves had given him a great deal of angst, though he tried to conceal this from the captain and the sailors. After he had left the deck, he had clung to everything in his cabin that he could somehow grab. But at some point his stomach rebelled so badly that he had to vomit. Luckily he was standing right next to the washing basin. Later, the thunderstorm had subsided, but the waves were still restless. In his fear, Benjamin Smith had resorted to a tried and tested remedy. He had begun to hum a song that his mother had taught him: 

Carried on the wings of an eagle over the roaring sea of time Carried on the wings of an eagle into eternity Over mountains and valleys and glades even higher to the heavenly height for strong are the wings that carry me the wings on which I stand And under the same wings how wonderful do I rest There is my place of refuge my firm and secure house The enemy may circle above me aim at me and spy as he will for strong are the wings that cover me and under those wings there is peace Yes, sheltered under the wings and kept on top of the wings there you find a blessed rest there you find a joyful ride there you find a firm assurance trough this changing pilgrimage for under those wings there is peace and on those wings there is strength [2]

         The song had not missed its desired effect. As in the stormy nights in which his mother had sung him to sleep with this tune, he calmed down gradually, and the storm and the waves did the same. The language was still alien to him, yet he had internalized the words for years. His mother had told him that it belonged to his father's favorite songs and every time she mentioned his father, a radiant smile had formed on her face that Benjamin would never forget.

        His father. If his journey was going well and he completed his mission successfully, he would see his father again before the end of the next month. And he knew he would not only see him again, he would make him proud too. But was it that what he wanted? He did not know. Too little did he know about the man who was his father. Why did this song have a special meaning for him? What did his father associate with it? What did these lines really mean? But maybe that would all change. Obviously fate had determined that from then on they would spend a lot of time together. This future prospect sparked ambivalent feelings in him.  

        But before his thoughts could continue to become entangled in the difficult family circumstances he had been born into, he forced himself to concentrate fully on his task. If everything went according to plan he would arrive in Hamburg in five days, change the ship and then go down the river Elbe for another three days until he would reach Magdeburg. There he would meet with the commander of the fortress, who would forward his message to Potsdam via the secret royal messenger system. He could only hope that his message arrived there in time. He told himself that that was no longer his responsibility. Yet he could not silence his inner unrest, which was caused by his uncertainty about the outcome of this affair. He would much rather have asked the commander for a horse of his own, so that he could bring the message to Potsdam himself and thus ensure that it arrived there on time. But he knew that he had neither the authority, nor would a single rider be able to accomplish this task. Precisely for this reason, the secret royal courier network had been set up many years ago. It was a tightly knit system of royal couriers carrying messages entrusted to them from one station to another. These riders were specially trained and had excellent horses. Each station was about a day's ride away, and when the courier arrived at one station, another, with a rested horse, was there and ready to pick up the documents and carry them on. It was - as Ambassador von Klinggräff had repeatedly emphasized - a very reliable and effective system. Nevertheless, Benjamin Smith hated to leave tasks unfinished, which had been entrusted to him. Such situations always left a mixture of uncomfortable feelings in him. He found it difficult to put these feelings into words, but he felt helpless. And this helplessness seemed to be accompanied by a feeling that something was lacking. Both led to an inner restlessness, which was very difficult to control. This led to more helplessness and with that, the whole vicious cycle began again. The fact that a failure this time could not only lead to a loss of money, land or power, but to the loss of three lives burdened him even more. The only solution was to focus on the things that mattered most in the respective situation.

        He stretched again and took a deep breath. Then, resolutely, he left the deck and went to his cabin. He undressed and put out the light. Shortly thereafter, he fell into a restless sleep.

(”Pflaumen” by cgonzalezandrade)

 Quellheim Monday, August 25, 1749, nearly one hour later the same evening 

         Claire turned her attention back to the plum trees. She had already detailed plans for what she would do with this immense harvest. One part they would eat fresh, another part Jamie would take to the market in Teichheim for sale. A third part she would use to make damson puree. The plums, which were not particularly juicy, she would dry and the rest, especially from the yellow and the red fruits, she would preserve in alcohol. Harvesting and preserving the fruits would mean a lot of work and yet she was happy. Jamie had been right. Much had improved over the last five month. With the beginning of the harvest season in the garden, their menu had become more and more varied, which - she had to smile - was reflected also in the weight of Jamie and Fergus.

         She looked over to the apple tree where Fergus sat on one of the benches, completely immersed in his book. In the course of the year he had grown quite a bit - physically, but also in his personality. The work at the farm was not only consuming a lot of time and strength, it also increased with each new purchase. Over the past few months, Claire has watched with delight as Fergus not only became enthusiastic about every new little project, but also took on more and more responsibility and diligently fulfilled his duties. It became increasingly obvious that he wanted to prove himself to Jamie as a true son. Since the end of the harvest, he and Jamie spent a lot more time together and it became apparent that this was good for both of them. Jamie was pleased to pass on his knowledge and skills to the boy, and Fergus enjoyed to finally be taken seriously as a man. Claire tried to support him in his efforts. But sometimes Jamie's comments on the lad's behavior led to very funny situations. 

        Today, two servants of farmer Rein had brought the two pigs that Jamie had picked and bought. He had assigned Fergus to herd them to the little meadow behind the stables. Together they had watched the boy fulfilling his task. 

        "He does it well. Just look with how much patience he takes care of them," Claire had said. But Jamie had just grinned and whispered: 

        "Sassenach, he does that because he already sees them as sausage and ham on his plate." 

        She had given him a light blow and shook her head with a smile. Then both had laughed aloud and Fergus, who had no clue about why they were laughing, turned to them with a serious look before turning his attention back to 'sausage' and 'ham' as Jamie called the two pigs henceforth. 

        As her gaze swept over the herb garden, her mind was meditating about the things that needed to be done there, Jamie had approached her. He had cleared his throat softly so as not to frighten her. Then he had put his arms around her waist and gently pulled her close. 

        "Good evening, Mr. Fraser," she whispered while melting into him. 

        "Good evening, Milady," he answered just as softly. 

        She felt his smile in her hair and put her hands over his arms. 

         "What do you think about, mo chridhe?" 

         "I've planed the work for this week. The rest of the fruit has to be harvested and we'll have a lot of work with it." 

         Instead of answering her, he began gently placing kisses down her neck. 

         "And what have you done, Mr. Fraser?" she asked with a certain ironic undertone in her voice. 

         "I looked for the animals and closed the gate, then made plans for the rest of the evening." 

         "And what are your plans for the rest of the evening, Mr. Fraser?" 

         "Well, first of all, I'd like to spend some more time with my family. I want to sit down with my wife and our bookworm, enjoying the mild weather, and then when it's dark, and hopefully our son is sleeping soundly, I intend to be close to my wonderful wife, as close as only I allowed to be." 

       "Really? Good to know that!" 

       "Is that ... a good plan, Mrs. Fraser?" 

       She turned into his embrace and nodded. 

       "This is a very good plan, Mr. Fraser. We should put it into action as soon as possible." 

       "Je suis prest, Milady."

Notes:

[1] For more information see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dutch_Republic

         Meanwhile Benjamin Smith had found a free table and ordered lunch and a jug of beer. While waiting for what he had ordered, he realized painfully that this lunch might be the last truly Scottish meal he would enjoy for a long time. Twice he had visited his father's homeland and the meals they had served him there had not been bad. Nevertheless, he was aware that it would take time to get used to the food and customs there.

Quellheim Friday, August 22, 1749, noon

         Claire was about to call her men for lunch when she heard the bell from the gate. She hurried to the window that opened onto the yard and saw Jamie open the gate. In came two men with wheelbarrows, on which there were several cages with poultry. They were servants of that poultry farmer who had his farm near the edge of the forest. Although Jamie could not work on the fields which had been assigned to them until the beginning of April, the harvest was good for their circumstances. They had sold part of their grain and vegetables and decided to buy ten more chickens and four geese. Two days ago, Jamie had been at Mr. Pöhl's poultry farm, picking the chickens and the geese and paying for the animals. Claire saw him and the men carry the cages with the geese into the garden. There he and Fergus had built a small enclosure in which the geese could live until the end of autumn. Shortly thereafter, the men came back into the yard and now the chickens were released from their cages and joined the chickens which were already running around in the yard. In the evening, it would be Fergus' job to bring them all into the chicken coop that he and Jamie had also upgraded in the past few days.          When she saw the men with the wheelbarrows leave, she opened the front door. A bright smile became visible on Jamie's face.

         "See Sassenach, our new friends!"          Claire knew how much that first purchase meant to him, but she also did not want the lunch to get cold.          "I will inspect them all afterwards, but now we have to eat, otherwise our trout will be cold."          "All right, I call Fergus and then wait behind the house."          Behind the house there was - between the house and the actual garden - a kind of terrace made of wooden planks. Jamie and Fergus had repaired two wooden benches they had found in one of the stables. In the attic they had also found a larger table. After giving this table two new table legs, it and the benches found their place on the terrace. Claire had provided the benches with two tick woolen blankets and numerous pillows. If the weather allowed, they enjoyed their meals together at this place. They enjoyed the fresh air, the gentle sound of the brook that was flowing around their property and - in the warmer days of the summer - the shade that an old big apple tree provided for them. Claire handed the food and drinks through one of the kitchen windows leading out to the garden and the men brought it all to the table. Shortly after Claire arrived at the table, Fergus joined them. They had just finished their prayer of thanksgiving and started eating when Fergus could not hold back a question that left him no peace.          "Milord, will we eat one of the geese for Christmas?"          "Fergus," Claire said with a serious expression, "we'll talk about what happens to the geese later, let's just eat those wonderful trout." 

         "Yes Milady," he answered meekly. 

         Claire glanced over at Jamie, who had grabbed his mug with beer and was drinking. Clearly he did that to hide a broad grin. 

         Then she looked back at Fergus, who was eager to eat his fried trout and the big slice of fresh bread Claire had put on his plate.

         "Have I already thanked both of you for catching these wonderful trouts?" 

         She smiled and put one of her hands on each of the men's shoulder that she could reach. 

         "They are a wonderful addition to our weekly menu." 

         "It's our pleasure to provide for the food, Sassenach." 

         "I think so," Claire answered and her face showed a bright grin. 

         Only with difficulty could she suppress a loud laugh, because Jamie's seriously spoken words reminded her that he had come home a few days ago with completely wet clothes. He and Fergus wanted to catch some trout, but Jamie had slipped on a mossy stone and fallen into the water. The 'accident' had ended the fishing adventure early.

         When they had finished eating, Claire grabbed a small knife and began to quarter and to seed the three apples she had brought with her. First Fergus got his share, then Jamie and the third one was hers. Of course, Fergus was the first to finish his apple and looked questioningly at Jamie. Without waiting for the boy's question, he said: 

         "Yes, you can go and read for half an hour. But first you bring the plates to the kitchen. And this time without any of the dishes being broken. All right?" 

         "Yes Milord." 

         He took the dishes and wanted to go. 

         "Fergus?" 

         "Yes Milady?" 

         "Come here, just a moment." 

         He put the dishes back on the table and went to Claire, who pulled him close and kissed him on the forehead. 

         "Thank you Fergus for helping us so much." 

         The boy smiled and looked to Jamie, who smiled back to him. Then he took the dishes and was gone in a moment. Claire and Jamie listened intently. But this time, they were not startled by the sound of broken plates before they heard Fergus's footsteps on the stairs. Claire let out an audible breath and Jamie grinned.

         "What are you planning for the afternoon?" 

         "Fergus and I will look after the rabbit slings. We will take the two big baskets with us. I hope we will find some alive. If so, we will put them in the cages that Fergus and I have built in the stable. It would be good if we could keep some of them during the winter.  Even if we can afford a cask of herring now, it will be good to have access to fresh meat. We have enough hay. We will be able to feed them well." 

         Claire nodded. 

         "Have you already made a decision about the pigs?" 

         "Yes, since we do not have to buy a horse thanks to Mr. Thormann, we can buy a sow and a boar, just as we discussed. Tomorrow morning I'll go to see Mr. Rein and pick the animals for us. The stable is ready. So we can have the animals brought here at any time. And who knows, next year we may already have our own piglets and be able to buy some sheep."

         He leaned back comfortably and smiled. Claire leaned across the table, reaching for his hands and kissing them. 

         "Thank you. Thank you so much for working so hard for us." 

         "Claire, if it were not for you, I would still rot in an English prison or slowly perish in forced labor. All I do is not because I have to, but out of gratitude."

         He had gotten up from his seat and sat down beside her on the bench. Then he put his arm around her shoulders. When she raised her head and looked at him, he kissed her - gently first, then more and more passionate. 

         "Ähm, sorry Milord, I did not want to …." 

         Fergus stood next to the bench, ready to go and inspect the rabbit slings. 

         "No, you didn't want to interrupt us. I know lad. You just feared that we might be late for dinner, if we do not get to the rabbit slings soon. Go and get the two large baskets I've showed you. I meet you in the yard." 

          Fergus hurried off. 

         "Always when ...." 

         Jamie rolled his eyes. 

         "There will be lots of time tonight, my love. I'll make our boy a herbal tea that will make him sleep deeply” 

         "Sometimes. Sasenach, I do not know if I should fear or admire your knowledge." 

         He kissed her one last time and left her in the garden.

Edinburgh Friday, August 22, 1749, noon - 8 pm

         Benjamin Smith had finished his lunch. He paid and shortly thereafter stepped through the pub's door onto the Grassmarket. He crossed the square in southerly direction. As he passed the table of a young woman selling flowers, he stopped. He bought a small bouquet of light-blue forget-me-nots and then continued on his way. Forty minutes later, he walked through the gate of a cemetery. With the confidence of a man who knew his surroundings, he moved along the main path of the cemetery to a smaller path that branched off to the right, walked along it, and turned to the right again. Shortly thereafter, he stopped in front of a grave. On the gray stone, only a few details were to be read:                                               Catherine Smith                                         26.08.1694 - 19.12.1739          He laid the flowers down at the foot of the stone. Then he put his right hand on the stone and was silent for a while. He looked around and when he was sure that there was nobody near him, he knelt down and whispered:          "There is no other way. I have to go mum, but I'm not leaving you."          With the sleeve of his frock-coat he wiped away the tears that were running down his face. Then he took a small transparent glass bottle from the pocket of his jacket, filled it with earth and closed it with the cork he had previously pulled out. He dropped the small bottle back into the pocket and once more wiped tears from his face. Then he got up slowly. Once more he lingered in silence for a few minutes before the gray stone that marked the final resting place of his beloved mother. Although she had been dead for ten years, and although he had almost grown up at the time of her death, the pain her loss had left in his heart had never vanished. And now he was destined to leave not only his home country, but his mother's grave as well. He had to leave all behind. Without knowing if he would ever again enter Scottish ground. The sense of loss that seized his soul at that moment hurt him just as the death of his mother had done ten years ago. One last time he stroked the gray stone. Then he turned abruptly and left the cemetery with determined steps.

         Slowly Benjamin Smith had returned to the city and to his apartment. At four o'clock in the afternoon there was a knock on his door. He opened and let the two men in, who were to pick up his bags and take them to the ship, with which he would leave the country before the dark. He nodded silently to the two men and gave them both some silver coins. Then he closed the door behind them.          Two hours later he grabbed a black leather bag that was slightly smaller than the bags the men had picked up. For the last time he unlocked the door of the apartment which had been his home for six month. Then he stuck his key inside the door and closed it. As quietly as possible, he climbed down the stairs. He desperately wanted to avoid meeting Mrs. McDonald again. Shortly after, he stepped on the street. 

         Some minutes after seven o'clock in the evening he reached the landing stage of the ship on which he was already expected. A man greeted him and then escorted him over a hanging ladder to the ship. He was then led into the captain's cabin and after a brief conversation with the captain, he was shown his cabin. The four leather backs were already there. He sat down on the edge of the bed set in the wall for a moment and pulled out a flask from the little bag he had carried with him. He took a long sip from it and then let out a slight sigh. Scottish whiskey. Even this pleasure he would have only very rarely in the future. He put the flask back in his bag. At that moment, he sensed that the ship was starting to move. He left his cabin and climbed up the stairs to the deck. On the horizon, the sunset had spread in a variety of shades from yellow to orange to red. He stood by the railing and saw Edinburgh slowly disappear. Would he ever see his hometown again? His whole life had changed completely in a single moment. It hurt. But he would not complain. He was not just doing his duty. His service and the success of his task would decide about life and death. The outcome of his mission could decide on war or peace. It was no longer just about the revenge of the brutal  Duke of Cumberland. It was about the future diplomatic relations between England and his Fatherland. But above all, it was about the lives of three people who had no idea what mischief threatened them.