Brave Enemies (26 page)

“I didn't ‘list to go walking all over South Carolina,” somebody said.

“Are we in South Carolina?” I said.

“I ain't going to cross the Broad River,” T. R. said.

“Tarleton is coming up from Ninety Six to meet Cornwallis at the Broad River,” Captain Cox shouted. “We will be joined to Major McDowell's North Carolina patriots.”

“Why can't we fight on our own?” somebody yelled.

“We will fight where we are told,” the captain said.

Everybody on the field was quiet. It was like they hadn't thought before they'd be part of a big army. They had forgotten why they were there. The day was quiet as only a winter day can be. There were some crows way across the woods, and you could hear the breeze in the broom sedge and in the pines.

“This evening we will march as far as we can,” Captain Cox said. “And don't tell anybody where we're going. There are Tory spies everywhere.”

“What if we meet Tories?” somebody said.

“And we will not plunder our own people,” the captain said. “Of course, if a Tory has a horse or ham he doesn't need we can accept it as a donation.” Everybody laughed.

“Anybody caught sending a message to Tarleton will be hanged from the closest tree,” the captain added.

I didn't have anything to carry but my blanket and the ax and the rifle gun. Sergeant Gudger gave me a powder horn and bag of shot and patches which I hung over my shoulder. The extra rifles and cooking things and tents were loaded into the wagons. I'd heard that British regiments carried their own blacksmith shops, but there was nothing in Cox's wagons but a few extra blankets and rifles.

Gudger ordered us to form a line two abreast and we started walking. The road away from the field was so muddy and narrow it was nearly impossible to march on it. Only two abreast could walk there, dodging puddles and the mire in low places.

There was lots of good bottom land along the road, and back of every field we passed stood pine woods and oak woods. In the distance you could see the hills, and beyond the hills the mountains so far away they looked like low clouds. I wished I could turn aside and go to the mountains. I wished John and I had gone to the mountains on Christmas Eve before the Tories came. We could have built ourselves a cabin in the woods and be living there free.

We passed a burned house, and then half a mile down the road we passed another. In the yard of the second house a body hung from an oak tree. The body had been stripped naked and a sign tied around the neck,
DEATH TO TRAITORS
.

“Halt,” Cox called out from where he rode at the head of the line. He hollered to Gudger and told him to cut the body down and bury it. The sergeant yelled to two men named Jenkins and Roberts to take shovels from a wagon and dig a grave. And he ordered T. R. and me to cut the body down.

They had not put a sack over the man's head, and I knew I'd have to look at his face. There wasn't any way to cut him down and slip the rope from around his neck without looking at the face.

It was the worst face I'd ever seen. The body must have been hanging
there for several days. The skin was black and the tongue stuck out where the man had choked to death. The body smelled rotten and birds had gotten at the eyeballs and half pecked them away. The skin had been cut by birds or rats.

Horrible as the face was to look at, it wasn't my disgust I was worried about. I'd heard of babies being marked in the womb by what their mamas had seen. Mama had told me about babies with snake eyes and babies that were foolish because they had been marked in the womb. I turned away from the terrible face as I slid the noose off the neck and over the head. The body was already stiff and the rope caught on the nose. I had to loosen the knot again, and my fingers touched the rotted skin. When I finally got the rope over the top of the head I wiped my hands on the ground, but they still smelled like tainted meat. I wiped them again on the grass and tried not to touch my clothes.

I hoped the sickening stink of a corpse could not reach a baby inside the womb. The stink was so bad I washed my hands with dirt. I figured Gudger would order T. R. and me to finish digging the hole and bury the body. We were the youngest in the company and everything low and dirty would fall to us. But he hollered to the two other men to keep digging.

Captain Cox rode up on his horse and said he couldn't keep the company waiting while the hanged man was buried. He told Gudger to stay there with us four and see the body had a Christian burial. “Commit the body to the earth as a Christian,” the captain said, and turned his horse away.

“Heatherly and Summers will stay behind,” Gudger called out, pointing at me.

“Bloody blackguard,” T. R. whispered.

I watched the line of men follow the captain down the muddy road until they were out of sight. Gudger took a drink from his canteen and I caught the scent of spirits. The sergeant had a canteen like a short barrel filled with whiskey or brandy. His face was red as a flag.

“Can we have a drink?” T. R. said.

“Every soldier must carry his own water,” Gudger said.

The two men were slow digging the grave. I looked around for a spring or branch where I could wash my hands and slake my thirst. There was no water in sight.

“The devil Tarleton has done this,” Gudger said, and pointed to the charred ruins of the house. “He catches us he'll do the same to us.” The sergeant took another swig from the little cask and bit off a chew of tobacco from a twist he carried in his pocket. I sniffed the scent of spirits and tobacco, hoping they would cover up the smell on my hands.

“The captain said we had to perform a Christian burial,” Gudger said. He looked at Roberts and Jenkins digging the grave and he looked at T. R. and me. He asked T. R. if he'd ever conducted a funeral.

“The sergeant is supposed to say the ceremony and read the Scripture,” T. R. said.

Gudger spat on the ground and wiped his mouth. “Don't, by god, tell me what a sergeant is supposed to do.” I could tell he was getting a little drunk. “I ain't never preached or prayed in my life,” he said, and laughed.

When the two men got the hole about a yard deep Gudger told them to stop.

“I thought a grave was supposed to be six feet,” Roberts said.

“That's in peacetime. A yard is deep enough in wartime,” Gudger said.

I knew the sergeant was going to make T. R. and me carry the body to the hole and drop it in. I was going to have to get my hands on the filth again and smell the rotten flesh again. I would try to hold my breath so the stink wouldn't get into my chest or in my blood.

“Joseph will preach a Christian burial,” Gudger said, and started laughing. I looked at T. R. and at the two men holding shovels.

“I don't have any Scripture,” I said.

“Then you will have to sing for us and talk from memory,” Gudger said with a big grin.

“I have a holy book,” Jenkins said. He reached into the pack he'd laid on the ground and took out a small Bible.

“Now we've got a book and we've got a parson,” Gudger said. He grabbed the Bible and handed it to me. I held the small faded book in the late afternoon light and watched T. R. and the other two men drag the corpse to the hole and roll it in. I held the book close to my face and smelled the old leather and paper.

Gudger was making fun of the dead man and making light of the captain's order for a Christian burial. He was making light of the Scripture too. Best thing was to say something short and honest and then go on. I would not mock the dead and I would have no part in mocking the Scripture.

“Well, padre, say a few words,” Gudger said, and pushed me toward the grave.

I was so tired I was trembling, and sick at heart. I was confused and scared. But the little book in my hands gave me comfort. The little book was like a rock to hold to. I gripped the small book like it was something to keep me from fainting away. And it was not just because the Bible reminded me of John and the way he carried the Scripture and read from the book. And it wasn't just that the words inside the little book were so familiar and so old. But in that awful place and time, with Gudger drunk and laughing at me and at death, with the smell of death on my hands, I felt how alive the little book was, and how it was a link between different times, between now and old times and everlasting things, between now and the future.

Tired as I was, I opened the little book and saw the print was so vivid it seemed to bite the air. The letters were sharp as needle pricks and razor edges. The words seemed to cut the light.

“Go ahead,” Gudger said. “Saint Peter is tired of waiting.”

I opened the book and saw the page was John 14. It was the very passage John would have read from if he'd been there.

Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me.

In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you
.

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto myself;

that where I am, there ye may be also.

And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know.

I read the words in a slow clear voice. And as I read I looked at each of the men in turn. I looked at Gudger and saw the surprise on his face. And I looked toward the body in the grave. The sergeant opened his mouth to say something, and then didn't. I knew he was in a hurry. But I was not in a hurry anymore.

“I'm not a preacher,” I said, and looked at T. R. and Jenkins and Roberts and then at Gudger. “I'm just an ordinary pilgrim like you all. This man has died, and we don't know a thing about him except he was a human being and that he died an ugly death in a bad time. We must pray for the Lord to bless him and bring his soul to Him. And we must pray for the comfort of his family.”

I bowed my head, then looked around. T. R. took off his cap and the two other men took off their hats. But Gudger didn't take off his hat.

“Lord, we ask your guidance and comfort in these times of sorrow,” I said. “Bring your peace to this troubled land.” As I spoke I heard John saying the words in the back of my mind. I heard his voice speaking through my tongue. It made me shiver to think we had quarreled just before he was taken on Christmas Eve. As I went on the words took over. The words seemed to come from somewhere in my blood and far back in my head. It felt like the words had always been in my chest waiting to come out.

“Shine a light in this darkness and lead us toward safety,” I said. “Shine the light of your words on our lives so we can find the way. And bring us to those we love.”

When I said “Amen,” Gudger pointed to the shovels beside the grave. But I wasn't finished. He had told me to say a few words and I was going to do it. For speaking, as John would have spoken, made me feel stronger and safer than I had in days. The words lifted me up over the mud and stink and Gudger's anger.

“I guess we people in our pride and foolishness weren't meant to understand everything,” I said. “Our minds are not big enough to see the mind of God. The Bible says the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. I say the love of God is wisdom also. To be humble and love Jesus and our fellow men is maybe all the wisdom we can know.”

The words came to me as I talked. I could see T. R. was astonished. I was preaching like a real preacher. He and the two men held their hats in their hands and watched me. But Gudger was in a hurry to go. He looked at me and he looked down the road. I guess he was afraid the redcoats would come back. He stepped from one foot to the other like he had to pee.

“You don't need to preach a whole sermon, Summers,” Gudger said.

“We will sing a hymn,” I said. I wished I had John's songbook with me. What was a song right for a burial? All I could think of was “Jesus Shall Reign.” I started singing and my voice was crackly at first, but got better when I reached the second verse.

W
HEN THE GRAVE WAS
filled in Gudger ordered us to fall into a line.

“Ain't we got time to piss?” Roberts said.

“We've wasted too much time mumbling already,” Gudger said.

The men groaned and I groaned with them. But the fact was I was relieved. For the most dangerous thing was to piss in daylight. Men could just stop and unbutton their pants and pee standing up. They could turn their backs and it didn't matter who was watching them. But while it was daylight and men were standing nearby I had to hold it in. Or pretend I had to shite. Then I could crawl into the brush and do it. As long as they thought I was shiting I was all right, for people will avoid you while you shite.

I thought how strange it was I had read from the Bible and prayed by the grave. They didn't know that I had killed Mr. Griffin, had waited for him in the dark and murdered him, and that I was a girl pretending to be a boy. Every day was stranger than the day before.

W
E KEPT MARCHING
until we came up with the company several miles down the road. They were camped in the woods and campfires were scattered among the trees. Tents had been strung up between some of the trees. With men spread around many fires, it looked like the company was bigger than it was. It looked as if the woods and thickets were full of soldiers far as you could see.

After dark it got terribly cold, and men wrapped themselves up in blankets and bearskins and quilts. They tied scarves around their heads, and wrapped rags around their hands. All I had was the one blanket and I saw I'd have to stay close to the fire. Gudger and T. R. and I and the two other men joined a group around a bonfire near a laurel thicket.

I was worried about lying in a tent close to so many men. Surely they'd find me out if somebody rubbed against me. I'd have to keep myself wrapped in my coat and blanket.

But I need not have worried, for there weren't enough tents to go around. Unless you had brought your own tent you had to sleep in the open. There were only enough tents for corporals and sergeants; the rest of us would have to lie in the open.