* * *
—
THAT EVENING, John Ettwein led Marcus and Vanderslice on a tour of his town. Instead of starting with the large, imposing stone buildings in the center of Bethlehem, John headed straight for the warren of structures that were built along the Monocacy Creek.
“This is where our people first settled,” John explained, standing before a small, low structure made of logs. The land sloped down to the water, giving a clear view to the west over the Moravians’ mills, tanneries, butchers, and waterworks. Ettwein pointed at one of the buildings. “There’s the springhouse. The water never freezes. Not even in winter. And it turns the wheel that sends the water up the hill and into the town.”
Marcus had been amazed to discover that water flowed into the apothecary’s stillroom, and that he didn’t have to run up and down the hill to fetch clean water for the marquis’s medicine.
“I’d show you inside,” John continued, “but your guards have taken it over.”
Some of the colonial soldiers quartered there were congregating outside and watching while stores of ammunition were unloaded into the nearby oil mill.
John showed them the millworks instead. As they neared the workshop, a black couple came into view, climbing the hill from the river. They were about Brother Ettwein’s age, and their arms were linked at the elbows. Both wore the dark, simple clothing of the Moravian Brethren, and the woman wore one of their crisp white caps, this one unadorned with ruffles and tied with a blue bow—the sign of a married woman. Marcus regarded the pair with curiosity, as did Vanderslice.
“Good evening, Brother Andrew and Sister Magdalene,” John called to them. “I was showing our visitors the millworks.”
“God sends us too many visitors,” Sister Magdalene said.
“God sends us only what we can handle,” Brother Andrew said, giving her a comforting smile. “You must forgive us. Sister Magdalene has been hard at work for many hours, washing the sick soldiers’ clothes.”
“They were crawling with vermin,” Sister Magdalene said, “and worn nearly to shreds. There is nothing to replace them with. If God wants to help us, He should send us breeches.”
“We must be thankful for his mercies, wife.” Brother Andrew patted her hand. He opened his mouth to speak again, but his body was racked with a deep cough.
“That sounds like asthma,” Marcus said with a frown. “I know a tea made of elderflower and fennel that might help your breathing.”
“It is only the hill,” Brother Andrew replied, stooped over with the effort to clear his lungs. “It always brings on my cough. That, and the cold mornings.”
“Doc can fix you up,” Vanderslice said. “He healed all of the Associators last winter, when we were fighting together.”
Sister Magdalene looked at Marcus with interest. “My Andrew’s back aches after a coughing fit. Do you have something that might ease it?”
Marcus nodded. “A liniment, applied with warm hands. The ingredients are all in the apothecary’s shop.”
“There is no need to concern yourself with me, when you have so many patients already,” Brother Andrew said. “All I need is rest.”
Brother Andrew and Sister Magdalene preceded them through the open door into the millworks. The scent of wood shavings filled the dusty air, and Brother Andrew’s coughing resumed.
“You shouldn’t be sleeping here,” Marcus protested. “This air will make the cough worse.”
“There is nowhere else,” Sister Magdalene said, sounding weary. “They took our house from us to accommodate the prisoners. I could go to the sisters’ house, but that would mean leaving Andrew, and we are used to being together now.”
“Magdalene does not trust the visitors across the river, or the guards in the waterworks,” Brother Andrew explained. “She fears they will take me from the Brethren and sell me to a new master.”
“You are not free, Andrew,” Sister Magdalene said fiercely. “Remember what happened to Sarah. The Brethren sold her quick enough.”
“She was not a member of the congregation, as I am,” Andrew said, still wheezing. “That was different.”
Sister Magdalene did not look convinced. She helped her husband to a chair by a tiled stove. A small mattress was in the corner behind the stove, neatly covered with a clean blanket. A few personal items—a cup, two bowls, a book—were placed nearby.
“I will take care of my husband, Brother John,” Sister Magdalene said. “Go back to the hospital, to the sick soldiers.”