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consciousness like shards of stone. No . . . nothing could ever be normal again. And death pervaded, seemed to prevail even, in the times in which they lived.
    Lena bit her lip at this last irreverent thought, as she considered the Martyrs Mirror and all of those who had perished by horrible means. At least her mother had been home, in her own bed, and had lived to name her new daughter.
    Lena looked up as she realized that Ellen had spoken. “ Sei se gut , I am sorry. What did you say?”
    Ellen fingered the simple hem of a pillowcase, looking slightly abashed. “It’s nothing really, my dear . . . just a hope I’ve cherished for a long time that you and Adam might . . . Well, being a grossmuder would be a great blessing.”
    Lena felt herself flush to the roots of her bundled hair. Despite the strangeness of the setting and the covered face of her mother, Lena knew that life must go on. That it would go on, with or without her contribution to the generations. And yet, despite her vow of moments before, she could not help but think what a child of Adam’s making would look like. Her blush deepened when she envisioned the gold of his eyes lapping with the blue of her own . . .
    But there was the ever-present shadow of the war, and she wondered if some Penn Dutch surnames would soon pass into obscurity because of the surprising number of Amish boys willing to join the Patriots in their fight against the British. Ellen spoke as if there was still hope beyond the war and death. Lena knew that her own faith had a long way to grow before she felt the same.
    She bent to snatch up a cloth from the floor and added it to the pile to be washed. She did not know how to respond without bursting out that she, too, despite her fear, would love to carry Adam’s babe.
    Ellen cleared her throat. “Forgive me, Lena. To speak of life in the face of your loss was unthinking. I—I loved your mother dearly. She was my only friend hereabouts, with the next nearest farm nearly five miles way. I doubt that I shall ever find the friendship of a woman of such strength and character as your mamm .”
    Lena smiled then. “There is nothing to forgive. I—I too pray that Gott will bless Adam and me with many kinner in the years to come. I spoke without thought earlier. And I deeply value your words of praise for my mamm . I know it is not our way to praise one so highly, even in death.”
    Ellen stretched her hand across the deathbed and Lena took it, feeling an accord of strength. “Lena, what women say behind private doors is sometimes as much blessed, I think, as the words of the bishop himself.”
    Lena looked at her with mild shock. “Truly?”
    “Ya. It is given to women to often minister to the dead, and how can we mourn without praising as well?”
    Lena nodded, tears filling her eyes at this simple wisdom. “ Ach ,” she whispered, “you bring balm to my soul. Thank you.”
    Ellen squeezed her hand. “The Lord has a plan and a blessing in all of this for you, Lena. I am sure of it.”
    Lena could only nod at this declaration of peace and pray that it would be so.

Chapter 5
     

    A dam followed the guard into the dim interior of the building. He could hear the hustle and bustle of granary business being conducted above, but the bowels of the building echoed with coughing and muted groans. Lancaster was a curious mixture of Loyalists, Patriots, pacifists, and, of course, prisoners of war. The makeshift jail was dark and damp, though Adam had heard that conditions in the Reading jail were worse. It seemed that the Patriots had no stomach for the peacekeeping sects, and jail was the least of what might happen to one whose faith did not support the bearing of arms.
    He felt his way along thick stones, having to bend at places to match the guard’s shorter stature, then came to a small, iron-barred space in which a single candle gave off smoky light.
    Lena’s father sat in a straight-backed chair next to a table, the only two articles