Ashes by Laurie Halse Anderson Page A

around the town.”
    She nodded. “This was called the bedlam house. They built it as a hospital for those who lost their reason. The war has filled it with sick soldiers who have smallpox, the bloody flux, or broken limbs. Filthy creatures, all of them.”
    A harried-looking white man stepped out of the building carrying another basket of bloody linens. “I thought we’d arranged for a proper-size cart,” he said roughly.
    â€œAye, but in this, too, we shall have to make do. Needs must, Mister Wickham, needs must. I’ll have a word with Widow Hallahan on the morrow, impress upon her our circumstances.”
    The man muttered something low, set down his basket, and returned inside.
    She motioned to me. “Give me a hand, lass.”
    I grabbed the other side of the biggest basket, and together we lifted it into the cart, then set smaller baskets beside it. As we finished, the privy door opened and Ruth emerged, looking much relieved. She hobbled back to us and climbed onto the seat without a word.
    â€œBess!” the man shouted from a window. “You’re needed!”
    â€œAs always,” she responded. “Don’t set your breeches afire.” She turned back to me. “Tell Widow Hallahan to hire a larger cart or send you girls round twice a day, every day. Ain’t right to make these lads lie in filth like sickly hogs.”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” I said. “I shall make clear the severity of your need.”
    Ruth clucked her tongue and Thomas Boon walked. She waited until we were well clear of the woman’s hearing before she said with wonderment, “Five seats in the privy. Never seen such a thing.”

CHAPTER XVII

Sunday, September 9, 1781
    T OOK A WALK TO TOWN WITH A NUMBER OF OUR GENTLEMEN AND TOOK A VIEW OF THE TOWN AS IT IS THE METROPOLIS OF V IRGINIA . T HERE ARE SOME VERY ELEGANT BUILDINGS, SUCH AS THE C OLLEGE P ALACE , C APITOL OR S TATE H OUSE, IN WHICH IS ERECTED A STATUE OF MARBLE THE IMAGE OF L IEUT . G EN . B ERKELY , G OVERNOR OF THE STATE OF V IRGINIA, &C.
    â€“J OURNAL OF L IEUTENANT W ILLIAM F ELTMAN , F IRST P ENNSYLVANIA R EGIMENT, ON ARRIVING IN W ILLIAMSBURG IN S EPTEMBER 1781
    W ILLIAMSBURG WAS MORE A TOWN than a grand city like Philadelphia or New York. One long street, wide enough for two carriages to pass each other with ease, ran from the hospital building at the west end, past the Governor’s Palace near the center of the town, to the capitol building at the far end. Beyond the capitol camped Continental regiments mixed with militia units. When we reached that encampment, we turned around and passed through the town again. I was getting anxious, for I’d seen no signs of a laundry.
    The street bustled with horse-drawn carriages and oxen pulling wagons filled with barrels, firewood, and supplies for the army. The smells of roasting meat and fresh bread made my nose twitch and my belly grumble. The tang of the burning charcoal of the blacksmith’s forge and the stink of freshly deposited horse dung could not compare. Men and women hurried along the sidewalks on their errands to the print shop, the market, taverns, and coffeehouses. Those who bothered to take notice of us saw what they wanted to see: two slaves on a master’s errand, one leading a mean-eyed donkey, the other riding a cart held together with pine tar and hope. I knew enough to use their blindness to our advantage. Our free papers would be given more weight the farther north we traveled, but they guaranteed nothing if we encountered evil and unscrupulous folk. The swamps and the mountains contained different dangers than cities, but in truth, I’d grown more comfortable with them.
    In addition to the worries presented by the town, my troublesome mind kept drifting back to Curzon’s strange manner. The farther north we’d traveled from Carolina, the quieter and more distant he’d become. He had returned to us with the donkey