Conceived in Liberty (16 page)

“But, your excellency, what are the facts? I have proven that Captain McLane's men fired first. These men could have escaped. Mr. McLane himself has admitted that they might have escaped. They saw this woman shot——”

Lord Stirling said, wearily: “Are you making out a common camp follower as someone to be compared to an officer's wife? If you are, sir, I am not the only person at this table who will take offence.”

“Sir, I made no such comparison. If Lord Stirling wishes to pick a quarrel ——”

“I shall not warn you again, Mr. Hamilton,” Washington said shortly.

“I'm sorry, sir. I beg you to allow me to go on.”

“Very well.”

“Mr. McLane, did any of these deserters show signs of sorrow at the death of the woman?”

“I believe one of them did.”

“Would you describe his actions?”

“He tore loose from the men who were holding him and ran over to the woman.”

“Could you say which one?”

“I couldn't.”

“Would you look at those three men, Mr. McLane? Colonel Conway remarked that they profane the name of soldier. Obviously, they are half-starved, half-naked. They don't look strong enough to tear loose from two or three men. Only a fit of intense feeling could impel them to such strength. You would grant that the feeling was intense, Mr. McLane?”

“I don't know.”

“But you must know. You saw it happen.”

“Then I grant it.”

“Thank you. That will be all, Mr. McLane.”

“Have I the court's permission to go?” McLane asked.

Washington asked: “Do any of you gentlemen wish to question Mr. McLane.” There was no answer. “You may go,” he said.

McLane stalked out. Hamilton walked to the window, walked back slowly. The room was very silent. The ticking of the clock sounded like a beating drum.

Washington said: “Have you any other witnesses, Mr. Hamilton?”

“Have I the court's permission to examine these men?” Hamilton asked, nodding at us.

“You have.”

“Allen Hale,” Hamilton said. I stood up. Kenton and Charley were looking at me curiously.

“Come forward,” Mercer said.

I went up to the table.

“Your name is Allen Hale?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your regiment?”

“The Fourteenth Pennsylvania.”

“Are you a Pennsylvania man?”

“No, sir. I was born in New York.”

“Where?”

“The Mohawk Valley.”

“And you lived there all your life?”

“There and in the Lake country.”

“Where is the Lake country?”

“Westward, near the Finger Lakes. We call it the Valley land.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

“And when did you enlist in the army?”

“At the end of May, in seventeen seventy-five.”

“You've served two and a half years. How long was your enlistment?”

“Three years—”

“And what made you desert, when there were only a few months left to serve?”

I shook my head; it felt heavy, clogged. As out of a dream at the dugout, to find myself standing here, the round table of officers, Hamilton watching me with violet eyes from under long lashes, playing a game.

“I thought I'd desert,” I said.

“But why?”

“I thought to desert—I had no thought of living out the winter. I was fair in hell, and sick for the sight of the Valley country. I thought to go away. There were a good lot of men deserting, and talk went that there'd be no army in the spring.”

“And you expected to reach the Mohawk Valley?”

I nodded.

Expressively, Hamilton looked at my feet, at the clothes I wore. He said:

“When you enlisted in the army, did you enlist in a Pennsylvania regiment?”

“No, sir. There were few Pennsylvania men outside of Boston. I enlisted in the Fourth New York Regiment.”

“Where is that regiment?”

I answered: “Dead.”

“You mean there's no one left of that regiment except yourself?”

“Five more men.”

“Was there any desertion in the Fourth New York?”

“Some few men. The rest sickened or died in battle.”

“I see. When you deserted, three men, why did you decide to take a woman with you? Did you think a woman could make the trip you were planning?”

“I had no thought that a woman could go the distance. She was noways a strong enough woman.”

“Then why did you take her?”

“She pleaded to go along. She said she'd take her own life if I left her behind.”

“Was she your wife?”

“She was no fit woman to be a man's wife,” I said dully. “She was a woman of the camp.”

“But she loved you enough to take her own life if you left her?”

“Yes.”

“Now, on the morning when you were taken, where were you?”

“On the highroad to Norristown.”

“And you saw Captain McLane's men. Did you recognize them immediately?”

“We knew they were part of the army from their number.”

“What did you do then?”

“We made across a field—to run for the shelter of the forest.”

“Were you together when you crossed the fields?”

“Bess fell, and I was helping her to rise. Charley and Kenton were a dozen paces beyond.”

“Then they could have escaped?”

“They might, had they not waited.”

“What happened then?”

“Some of the cavalrymen took the ground. They fired a volley at us. They had a bullet in Bess, and she fell from my hand—”

“Some of the cavalrymen dismounted before they fired? They took time to aim?”

“I don't know—they weren't much at shooting.”

Hamilton smiled. Then his face sobered, deliberately. He said: “What did you do then?”

“When I saw Bess shot, I guess I went crazy. I guess I didn't care much about anything, and I let go with my gun. Kenton and Charley fired. I guess we were all crazy—thinking about going back.”

“And when you fired, did you aim?”

“I reckon no. I shot as I held my musket, at my side. They did too.”

“Your friends?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. That's all.” I walked back to my chair, slumped into it. Kenton and Charley were sitting like stone figures, staring straight ahead of them, but looking at nothing. They didn't look at me.

Hamilton turned to the table. He said: “Your excellencies, there's nothing I can say more. These men are deserters; but they are not murderers; they did not commit treason. They fired in a fit of passion. Their crime was not premeditated or deliberate. I don't have to tell you what they suffer. God knows, you're aware of it. This is a winter of hell. We're quartered in stone houses; we eat and drink and sleep and wear decent clothes. But you've seen them crowded like beasts in their huts. You know.”

Washington said: “Mr. Hamilton, we are not in a civil court. We are trying these men for a military offence. They opened fire in an act of mutiny, and killed a man.”

“But their act was self-defence. By all the laws of humanity, they're innocent. They had been starving for weeks. They were half-insane.”

“Nevertheless, they killed a man.”

“Your excellencies, I am not the court. All I can do is to plead a case you have given me. But I know that in the place of these men, I would have done the same.”

He walked to the window then, dropped into his chair, and stared out. The men at the table were talking in low tones. I heard Wayne say: “You're not dealing with soldiers, sir, but with beasts. No discipline. You'll touch off a powder keg.”

“Then touch it off I will. If there's one man left, he'll be under my command.”

Lord Stirling: “I'd have them drawn. I'd teach them a few of His Majesty's lessons.”

“Sir, His Majesty is not commanding my army,” Washington snapped.

Kenton and Charley both sat motionless, like men in a dream; they seemed to have no interest in the court-martial. They sat staring at nothing at all. I listened to the clock, watched the pendulum. I counted each movement. I felt drowsy, tired. I felt that I would like to sleep. Gradually, the room had become warmer. There was a rug on the floor. I thought of stretching out full-length on the rug and sleeping. I half-closed my eyes. The drone of voices was like bees humming.

Then the voice of Washington broke through: “Mr. Hamilton, will you inquire which of the three men killed McLane's trooper?”

Hamilton turned to us. Kenton lurched to his feet. He said hoarsely: “I did.”

I heard Charley's voice, as from far off: “He's lying.”

I found myself saying: “He's lying——”

I find myself crying: “What difference? You want to know who killed him? You made us into beasts! You made life a joke! There's no life in this place—only death, nothing but death! You don't bury us; you pile us in the snow, like logs of wood—” I find myself laughing, sitting there and laughing like an idiot.

Kenton's arm is around me, his voice whispering: “Easy, easy, Allen.”

Charley says, clearly: “God damn you—you can all go to hell!”

I sit there, feeling away from them now, beyond any pain or power of theirs. They sit around the table like dolls, a little bewildered. Hamilton's face is drawn and twisted; he doesn't look like a boy any more.

“Take them out, Mr. Hamilton,” Washington says, his voice cold, tired.

We stand up. Hamilton moves through the door with us. The guards form round us, and Hamilton leads us into the next room.

“Sit here,” he says. “There's no need for you to stand. I'll go back, and maybe they'll let me talk some more. I don't know—” He takes a pipe out of his pocket, a small bag of tobacco, and drops them on the table. “You can smoke.”

He goes out. We sit and look at each other. Charley says: “A fair lot of talk——”

“I'm afraid,” I whisper. “Christ——”

“It's an awful bitter thing to hang,” Kenton says. “I can't call to mind that I ever thought to hang. It's a bitter thing to be out there in the cold, hanging from a gibbet.”

“It may be that we'll not hang.”

“No. It's in their minds to hang us.”

“That man Hamilton made a good plea for us. It's a wonder to me that he spoke so long for us.”

“I'm thinking, he hates McLane.”

“It was fair talking.”

We stare at each other, keep staring, then abruptly turn our eyes away—anywhere. It seems to me that I can hear the clock ticking in the next room. I say:

“Strange to see a clock beating out the time.”

The room we sit in is shadowed with twilight. Outside, the early winter night is beginning to fall. A low fire burns in the room. We look around curiously, at the fine furniture, at the rugs on the floor.

Kenton remarks: “They live well, these Quaker people.”

I reach out toward the pipe. “He was meaning for us to smoke it,” I say.

“I'm sick for food, not for smoking,” Charley mutters.

“We could draw on the pipe a spell, pass the time.”

“They'll sentence us.”

“I'm thinking so.”

I stuff the pipe with tobacco, go to the fire and draw a spark to it. The smoke makes me dizzy. I hand the pipe to Charley.

Charley looks at it and says: “Ely was a great one to be puffing on a pipe. Night and day, when we had tobacco, he had a pipe in his teeth. You recall?”

“It seems like years past.”

“He could take a quiet enjoyment out of tabacco like no other man I've seen.”

“He could.”

“It's a strange thing that Ely should watch us die. I think back to how Ely watched me grow,” Kenton says.

I say: “If we hang, Kenton, I'll be no man. I'll be sick with fear.”

“It's a dreadful thing to hang.”

We sit and we smoke. It grows darker in the room. The fire throws mottled shadows over us. We seem to tremble and waver in the firelight.

“God—I'm hungry,” Charley whispers.

My throat is dry and numb. I think of drinking a glass of clear water.

“They ought to be through with their talk,” I say nervously.

“They're making out to hang us.”

“Christ, Kenton, leave be,” Charley mutters.

Kenton has the pipe. He says, sadly: “I did a fool's thing to smash the other pipe. He was noways mocking at us, giving us the pipe.”

We hear steps outside, and we turn to the door. Hamilton stands there, the guards behind him. “You'll come back with me now,” he says tonelessly.

I think we know, all of us. We follow Hamilton back into the room where the court-martial is being held. There are some candles on the table. The faces behind the candles waver, change colour.

“Stand at attention,” Mercer says.

Hamilton goes to the window. He stands there, back to the room, hands clasped behind his back. I see Washington's big face. It seems to me that the muscles are relaxed, that the compact coldness has given way to loose lines of pain. Wayne stares at the table. Greene looks over our heads. Lord Stirling bites his nails, his face vacuous. Conway has a sort of smile.

Mercer reads: “It is the decision of this court that Allen Hale, Kenton Brenner, and Charles Green be found guilty of high treason and murder. It is the decision of this court that they be paraded before the assembled brigades of the Pennsylvania Line, drummed out of their regiment, be publicly stripped of arms and insignia, and then be hanged by the neck until dead.”

Kenton laughs softly. Charley Green's hand grips my arm, fingers biting into my flesh. I cry out, in spite of myself, and then my throat chokes up and I can say nothing. The guards press out of the room. They stand round us while the officers file past.

Hamilton says: “God help us all for this. I'm sorry. You believe me?”