When he got back to the house, Daniel found his parents in the kitchen, sitting side by side at the table. The boy took a chair opposite them and hung on his father's words. Because of his experience in combat, Nathan had been promoted to the rank of captain and he was impressed by the men who served under him.
'They lack nothing in courage,' he told them, 'and they come from all parts of the West Country. We have miners from the Mendips, fishermen from the south, wool-workers from Devon, mountain men from the Quantocks, graziers from Bampton, wild marsh-men from Axbridge and hundreds of other stout-hearted fellows ready to take up arms to rid the country of a Catholic tyrant.'
'There's talk of deserters,' Daniel chipped in.
'Every army has a few cowards who turn tail when the first shot is fired. We're better off without them. Besides,' Nathan went on airily, 'we've recruited some deserters ourselves from the royal ranks. They'd much rather serve King Monmouth than labour under the yoke of King James.'
'But where will it all end, Nathan?' asked Juliana worriedly.
'That's in the laps of the gods, my love.'
'What will happen to you?'
'I'll give a good account of myself in battle, have no fear.'
'What about us?'
'You and Dan must pray for our success.'
It was not the reassuring answer that she needed and her face clouded. Juliana was a comely woman in her thirties with vestiges of the youthful prettiness that had first attracted Nathan Rawson. He had been fighting in the Netherlands at the time and they had been on opposite sides. It was different now. Their respective countries were at peace with each other and their marriage symbolised the fact. She did not want her happiness to be shattered by warfare.