How many times had she hidden her face in pillows and her long red locks her father had been so proud of when she had been admonished or denied some trifle as a girl? She did not know. “The second, tradition,” Aquee said with a sadistic lilt to his tongue, “ages ago, when a rebellious subject was brought to heel, he was shorn of hair by his master.” Marquaise began to shriek. She was tossing her head from side t side violently trying to escape this last violation. She felt the grip of firm hands of lackeys on her holding her face down. Her nose crushed to the cold wood of the table. Then she felt a hand lift a large quantity of hair from her back. She tensed every muscle and tears streamed from her eyes as the dagger just to the side of her face as plucked noisily from the wood. Then an all too familiar, but closer than ever before to her skin, she felt the chill of steel sliding with utmost care and utter cruelty. Her skin prickled and tingled as her nerves were stimulated and her. I was surprised and pleased to see that a lot of new men had joined Dan Morgan's little army, including some rough looking militia led by Jim McCall and the famous Andrew Pickens, who called himself a general and wore as colorful a uniform as I ever saw in the whole war. Some of the Georgia boys had rifles that looked a bit like my Pennsylvania gun, and we spent some time matching shots and admiring each other's weapons. They also had some awful fine drinking liquor and several very willing women to help keep them company on cold nights. We shared those too. I was glad they were on our side since they were a tough bunch indeed.There were some black men among the militia that had joined Morgan. Some of them, I was told, were free men but several were slaves who had come along with their owners or the owner's son. One of these black men came on horseback along with his sister, who rode behind him on the same, big horse and who cooked for him. I saw them arrive. Ben was a very impressive.
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