Chapter 12 - The Garrison Commander

I liked Claire's ponderings at the opening of this chapter. It helps me keep my bearings in the story as the plots begin to thicken and intertwine. One of my favorite aspects of good literature is to see inside the characters' heads so I can know not only what they're doing, but why they are making the choices they are. This is a little more difficult to accomplish with TV and movies, though, so it will be interesting to see how this  is carried off in the production.

As Claire considers her various options and opinions about who others think she might be, she begins to wonder if Column actually considered her to be a spy for the English, or not:

...I was patently not a Scot myself; surely he [the garrison commander] would not be inclined to think me a spy of some sort? That was evidently what Colum and Dougal thought—that I was an English spy. Which made me wonder what I was meant to be spying on? Well, unpatriotic activities, I supposed; of which, collecting money for the support of Prince Charles Edward Stuart, pretender to the throne, was definitely one. But in that case, why had Dougal allowed me to see him do it? He could easily enough have sent me outside before that part of the proceedings. 

These definitely are some of the thoughts I considered about her predicament, as well. I also reasoned that if Colum really thought she was a spy, he had been pretty free with her seeing the inner workings at the castle. 

Probably a staircase similar to this
where Jamie tried to sneak and sleep

As they journeyed to the inn at the village, I was struck with the stark baseness of 18th century life; the unsanitary conditions in her "room" if you could call it that, the need for a flint-box and candle, fumbling around in the dark, all very genuine for something as simple as trying to get a good night's sleep. Although, when her intruder tried to sneak upstairs, I did feel it was a little predictable that it would be Jamie.

What it did remind me of, though, is that there have been many times that I have tried to be quiet early in the morning getting ready for work, when invariably I will step on every squeaky floorboard or trip on the unexpected toy left in the hallway. Do you know how screechingly loud a bureau drawer can be when you are trying so hard to open it silently? Why is it that when you are trying to stay quiet that the simplest task makes the most excruciatingly loud noises that would otherwise be unnoticed during the day? It's like trying to open up a cellophane candy mint in church; who ever knew those things made that much noise?

 As to why Jamie would be up there, well, my first thought, actually, was one that Jamie voiced about wanting to stay away from the English.

“It isna entirely disintested kindness on my part, ye ken,” he observed. “I’d as soon avoid notice myself.” I had forgotten that he had his own reasons for keeping away from English soldiery. It did not escape me, however, that this could have been much better accomplished, not to say more comfortably, by his sleeping in the warm and airy stables, rather than on the floor before my door. “But if anyone does come up here,” I protested, “they’ll find you then.”

It made sense to me that he wouldn't want to be seen by them, for sure. But the mix up regarding the propriety of Jamie spending the night in her room as a guard was mildly amusing.

“Won’t they wonder, though, what you’re doing up here in the dark?” I could see nothing of his face, but the tone of his voice told me he was smiling. “Not at all, Sassenach. They’ll just think I’m waiting my turn.” I laughed and went in then. I curled myself on the bed and went to sleep, marveling at the mind that could make such ribald jokes even as it recoiled at the thought of sleeping in the same room with me.

Okay, then, the next day, Claire is brought before the garrison commander. Randall?! Seriously, I did NOT see that coming. I probably should have, but I think I was too busy trying to figure out how Dougal was going to try to expose her as a spy and I wasn't sure what he was up to. In the end everyone's motives become clear enough.

He drew back his arm and hit me in the pit of the stomach. I made no noise, because I had no breath. I sat on the floor, doubled over, struggling to draw air into my lungs. I was shocked far beyond the actual pain of the blow, which was beginning to make itself felt, along with a wave of giddy sickness. In a fairly eventful life, no one had ever purposely struck me before.

Wow. Did this strike anybody else as being absolutely repulsive? Certainly, if you want to have a main character become really despicable, have him punch a woman. Full force. In the pit of the stomach. Oh, and then have him say: “I trust you are not with child, Madam...because if you are, you won’t be for long.” *Shudder* I'm sure there's more to come.

One funny thing I read about Diana is how she was with a group of women who were commiserating with each other at how absolutely heinous they thought Jack Randall was, and then she thought to herself: "If they only knew; I am Jack Randall." Ha. Brilliant.

Could this be Frank's alter-ego
in the monster world?

Then, a new thought occurred to me: why is it that the bad guy is named Randall? Could it have anything to do with the kids movie Monsters Inc.? Think about it; the bad guy in that story was also called Randall (voiced by Steve Buscemi, my wife's OTHER favorite Steve). Coincidence?

Let's see, if the character association works out, that would make Sully Jamie, and Mike Wazowski, well, he would have to be Claire. But that means that Sully and Mike Wazowski would have to...um, ok, maybe it doesn't work.

But you get the idea: Randalls of all kinds should most likely be avoided, just in case.