When King comes to Boston over Christmas, perhaps you’ll hear from him.”

“Thank you, sir. I … I don’t know what to say.”

“Know this: There’s talk that King will be delegate to a convention in Philadelphia, to strengthen the articles under which we govern. Considering this Massachusetts crisis, such a gathering is now imperative. Work for King, and you may effect real change.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“One more thing.” Knox leaned forward in the chair. “Have you heard talk about the rebels—the Regulators—marching on this arsenal?”

After a quick swallow, Will lied. “I’ve heard nothing, sir.”

Knox smiled. “Then I’ll sleep well tonight.”

WILL PIKE DID not sleep well for many nights, so guilt stricken was he at lying to Knox, so fearful was he of the day when his brother would summon him to march on the arsenal. And denying that summons would bring its own guilt. But he had made it plain that while he might provide observations about the arsenal’s defenses (which were few) and its guards (fewer), he would not march against government property.

As October faded, Will’s resolve hardened with the freezing earth. Then, on the day of the first snowfall, resolve became conviction, for that was the day that Will’s father came home, having served only three months instead of six.

Knox had restored him to freedom, but no one could restore him to health. Whatever afflicted George North Pike, he continued to lose weight, suffered ever more brutal stomach pains, and had little appetite, even at Christmas, when they roasted a fat goose stuffed with brandied apples.

“Look at him,” said North one cold January night. “A broken man, sleepin’ by the fire, not even interested in a bowl of mush. The government done that to him.”

“The government is changing,” said Will. “And I may help to change it.”

“You’ll march with us then? On the arsenal?”

“Arsenal?” Will’s stomach turned.

“What do you think this is for?” North pointed to the sheet of paper on the table.

It was a broadside that had been posted across the county. It warned of a four-thousand-man army marching west, financed by Boston merchants. The army’s intent: “by point of sword to crush the power of the people and render them unable of ever opposing the cruel hand of tyranny.” The petition called for the men of Hampshire County to “assemble in arms to support and maintain not only the rights but the lives and liberties of the people.”

North said, “If we’re to assemble in arms, we need arms.”

“When?”

“We march day after tomorrow. Shays wants to know if you’ll be with us.”

“Day after tomorrow, I’m leavin’ for Boston.”

“Boston? Why?”

Will pulled a letter from his waistcoat pocket. “This come in today’s post.”

North took the letter and read it aloud. He always read aloud. He had been a poor reader in the schoolhouse where they had learned their alphabets and their sums, so reading aloud proved his comprehension.

“ ‘Dear Mister Pike’ “—North looked up—”Mister? Someone calls you Mister and you’re ready to turn your back on your neighbors and your blood?”

“Read,” said Will.

So North read, stopping not at all and stumbling only a little. “ ‘I am in receipt of a letter from Henry Knox, October 26 of last year, which recommends you to my service. As my apprentice moved on at year’s end, I shall wait upon you on January 26, while I am in Boston to confer with the legislature. I shall be at Government House the whole day. Should I find myself favorably disposed to a relationship, be prepared to step immediately into my service. Yours, Rufus King.’ “

Will gave his brother a moment, then said, “I plan to use my brain.”

“You’d desert us? To work for some Boston lawyer?”

“Lawyer and a congressman, too.”

“Even worse.” North threw the letter back at his brother. “We’ll need every able-bodied man in Hampshire County to take that arsenal. Every man needs a weapon. ’Tis the only way to stand against a government set out to oppress the people.”

“You don’t need me.” Will folded the letter and put it back into his pocket.

North stood—the older brother, intimidating by his size, his personality, his simple position in the birth order. “You desert us now, Willie, and you won’t be able to hold your head up in this town again … or in this family.”

And from the hearth came these words: “He’s goin’ to Boston.”

Both brothers were shocked to hear the sudden strength in their father’s voice, shocked as well that he was awake and listening.

The old man stood, steadied himself, and shuffled across the room. “Whatever lies ahead, we can’t be killin’ a boy’s dream.