Chapter Three: Banners White and Red

Life has many miseries. Death comes for all; it is inevitable. Everyone will be defeated. No one escapes trial and tribulation. Many conflicts need resolution. Many wars need eventual peace. 

Honor, however, is worth the shortest of life. It is better that the righteous die young than for the wicked to live long. The consequences of sin are more significant than many know. Indeed, salvation is worth more than a thousand years of youth. 

For tens of thousands of soldiers, the climax of a long war was arriving. Previously, the French and the British had battled over many coasts and cities. When peace had finally seemed resolved, Emperor Napolean had returned more determined than ever to expand France's empire. He was set to win one essential victory over his foes. One blow to Britain was all he needed; if successful, it could change history forever. 

Many armed men had their own aspirations. Some fought for personal glory, others for the protection of their homeland. It was Reason and Folley. There was no simpler explanation. 

Facing the gentle woods of Yorkshire, George Somerset, a young man of nineteen, had long dreamed of expeditions to other lands. He was as brave as the knights of old. Familiar with the current events on the European continent, he had never underestimated the power of France. Pacing across the high grass, he considered the likelihood that he might be summoned to fight for his country someday. The thought was not new. Day and night, he felt guilty for not fighting alongside those who fought for his freedom and the privileges he enjoyed as an English gentleman. 

The young man sighed. While observing the birds settle in their nests, he thought about how many expect peace to last forever. Indeed, many had never expected Napoleon's rise to power. 

''George!'' someone exclaimed. 

Turning, the young man found Peter Devonsham approaching. His friend was arrayed in a bright red uniform akin to the royal officers of England. Mr. Devonsham instantly removed his bicorn from his head and gripped his friend's hand. 

''George,'' Peter spoke again. ''Enjoying another day in the outside woods? You need to evaluate your purpose, I think. You wouldn't believe what I've recently done.'' 

Mr. Sommerset could only guess. Less enthused than his companion, he replied, ''Tell me.'' 

Peter laughed. ''I'm commissioned as an officer in England's noble war against France. Of course, my mother-in-law, Mrs. Weathers, is neither fond of my decision nor my wife, Ada. However, I've decided that it serves my interest. No man on earth will call me a coward, and I've always desired to attain a glorious feeling from a triumph on the battlefield. Besides, these uniforms attract the attention of all the ladies in Yorkshire and make a man a god among his fellow persons. What do you say, George? Perhaps you should consider joining England's forces? You are intelligent and have a brave heart. I am certain that we would make a strong team against the French. This has always been what we have dreamed of. Do you disagree?'' 

George scratched his neck. His eyes faced the earth as he felt insecure in front of his friend. Peter never appeared more impressive. ''I wish I could go, but I don't think my family would honor it. My father nearly died at the Battle of Bunker Hill against the Americans. No, I am certain they will not endorse such a move.'' 

Peter's smile faded. Nodding, he pretended to accept the choice to refrain. ''Yes, I understand. Really, I do. Not all of us can head out to war. Take Roger Longwood; he keeps to his priestly ministry. Henry, his brother, once fought in the war, but that was long ago. Some of us fight for a season, while some of us will never battle at all.''

George felt speechless. The conversation embarrassed him. By the dialogue, Peter was the hero and he was just someone else. 

Mr. Devonsham patted his friend's right shoulder. Smiling slightly, he said, ''Soon, I will be headed into the continent. Pray for my success. Britain the bear against all the might of Napolean.''

George nodded. 

''Helena prays piously,'' Peter admitted. ''I cannot pray as she. Please request her to still invocate God on my behalf.'' 

''I will,'' George returned. ''You have always been a dear friend to us. She prays like no one else that I know. If ever Yorkshire was graced by heaven's light, it was through my sister, who shines more radiantly than Michael or Gabriel.''

''To which I am aware. Us Devonshams and Somersets go back a long way. Our friendship remains an endearing one.'' 

''Indeed, Peter. Many fine men have enlisted in Britain's army. I wish all the soldiers of Yorkshire the best of prayers as they march into new boundaries.''

Peter grabbed George's shoulders. Smiling confidently, he pleaded, ''Join me, George. Come see the world. Won't it be an adventure? We can and will conquer.'' 

George sighed before shaking his head. ''I wish I could say different, but if ever I am to leave Yorkshire, it is not now. My parents want me hear. My father has a particular fear of his children dying in war. He knew war all too well.''

''He had his time in glory, didn't he?'' Peter asked, casting doubt. ''Besides, there are too many people waving the white banner now. We need men who fight like hell. Never was red more glorious than today. George, let us fly the colors of war together. We are not like other men. Being a coward is for fools. We are heroes.''

Peter was relentless. He spoke for half an hour to impress George with reasons to fight against France. While speaking to one another, the two young men headed toward the Somerset's white house, which resided on the other side of the woods. George praised Peter's heroism, and Peter flattered himself by reminding his friend of the honor of wearing red. 

''Chamberlain Estates, what a wonderful place,'' Peter smiled as he remembered the house. ''I recall frolicking among these trees as a mere youth. We always dreamed of adventure and becoming heroes.'' 

George felt that he was still being pressured to join England's army. Seeing the servants outside, he missed Peter's admiring stare toward Helena Somerset. 

''Your sister is remarkable,'' Peter complimented while watching her enjoy the fresh spring air. My, she is a gorgeous sight to behold.'' 

Helena smiled Peter's way but not in the manner that he hoped. She cared for his person but had not romanced him since long before his marriage to Ada Weathers, now Ada Devonsham. She saw through his person more than her brother could see. 

''She once liked me before I became arrogant,'' Peter joked. ''She thinks I have changed, but when I see her, I see a beautiful creature who has not changed at all, except in the best ways.'' 

''Look, the sun is brightening the clouds,'' George diverted, knowing Peter was married. ''I have not seen a Spring day like this in many years.'' 

Peter hardly deflected from his friend's sister's sight. Seeing her, he recalled his youth with her long ago. 

Helena's eyes were blue, and her hair was golden. Innocent as a young girl, she was as beautiful as any grown woman. Her colorings matched that of George, her brother. In many ways, the two were alike. They were pure and noble, Christian in the most total sense. Though his heart did not concern itself with Heaven, Peter admired them for their faith. 

Standing by the trees outside, Peter considered his own ambitions. Helena avoided eye contact, though he did not pause his admiration toward her. As her father entered the Greenwood, Peter's heart coveted the woman who was not his own. 

''What a calm Spring day,'' Mattew Somerset, the father, praised. ''Peter, we did not expect you to become an officer in his majesty's service so soon. We wish you every success on the battlefield. How is Mrs. Devonsham?'' 

Unhappy, Peter looked away while recalling his wife. ''Ada is with her mother, Mrs. Weathers, at Churchill Estates. She will be spending many days there until I return from war.'' 

Lifting his glass, George wished he could also head to the continent. To his dismay, Britain was too isolated from the significant conflicts. 

''I respect Ada; she has the sweetest soul,'' Helena affirmed. 

Peter sensed that Miss Sommerset was distancing herself from him. ''Yes, she is kind. Kindness, however, will not win this war.''

Offended, Helena recognized Peter's gradual turn against his wife. She sensed that if Peter could be disloyal to the one he swore to God in beholding, he could be the same to all else. 

''My, the light had faded quickly,'' Mr. Sommeret started concerning the day's hours. 

The company reached the night air. The sky had darkened faster than George had anticipated. 

''The day has ended fast,'' Peter affirmed. ''Soon, the morning will be here. Soon, I will be setting sail with dozens of other Englishmen for a great war.'' 

Mr. Devonsham paused, waiting for Helena to spare words of her need for him. Once, she had been fond of his company, but that was behind her. Smiling her way, he knew that, much like Ada, Miss Sommerset despised human arrogance. As Peter rode away, she was the first to turn from his presence. 

''I do hope that Peter Devonsham will be safe in the battles I expect him to endure,'' Mr. Sommerset spoke. ''We are blessed to be surrounded by waters protecting our noble Britain. The world where he is going, however, is much different.''

Night arrived sooner than expected. Turning to the Sommersets before mounting his steed, Peter bid them farewell. George remained envious of his companion's journey into war. Helena, though, was grateful for Mr. Devonsham's exit from Yorkshire.