The Titans (30 page)

hoofs. The oath of the driver dragging on his reins and booting his brake. The hack veered. Simultaneously, the second Zouave jumped on Gideon's back. Gideon's jaw slammed the dirt. Like a gored animal, he bellowed and heaved upward. The Zouave tumbled off. Landed under the hoofs of the rearing hack horse- Gideon crawled the other way; stumbled up. The hack driver whipped greater-than his terrified animal. No use. Fore- hooves slashed down, striking the Zouave's face. The maddened horse kicked and stamped until his driver got him under control. Clutching his face with both hands, the Zouave gained his feet. He lurched straight up the middle of Main. Blood streamed between his fingers. He almost blundered into another hotel omnibus. The passengers yelled and pointed The Zouave staggered on, moaning. Head near to bursting with pain, the showy dolman almost torn in half, Gideon shambled back to the brick walk. The Zouave with the knuckle-dusters was still crouched there. He started backing away. Gideon ran at him. "Don't!" .margaret exclaimed. He barely heard. Panting, he snagged the Zouave's arm and hurled him against the building. 416The Tigers A small crowd was collecting. People off the omnibus; the hack driver; the gambler from the corner. He puffed a cheroot and watched Gideon with hard, admiring eyes. Gideon began to punch the Zouave. The man begged; put up the hand with the bloodied knuckle-dusters. Gideon knocked it down, drove a fist into his face, then rammed his knee in the man's groin. Blood squirted from the Zouave's nose. His eyes rolled up in his head. When he started to slide down the wall, Gideon held him with one hand and battered his face with the other. Hit him once. Twice. Three times- Margaret tore at his arm: "Let go of him, Gideon!" "Here, I'll take charge!" A wheezy voice. Gideon glimpsed the white-stubbled cheeks of a Blind Pig. Gaslight winked on the metal letters on the old fellow's cap. P. G. Pig without an i. Blind Pig- The Public Guard tried to thrust an antiqauted musket between Gideon and the Zouave. The weapon was nearly knocked from his hands when Gideon hit the Zouave again. "I say, sir, let me take charge!" the elderly man protested. "Young ladies-someone-help me!" More hands grabbed Gideon. He had his right arm drawn back for another punch. His knuckles bled. All at once, he felt Margaret's nails bite through his sleeve again: "Yotfve done enough?"' The words seemed to echo and re-echo. The Zouave collapsed. Gideon was shaking. Growing uncontrollably dizzy- He shot out his free hand; propped himself against the front of the shop. With an arthritic groan, the Blind Pig knelt to examine the man Gideon had beaten. The Titansbledag "Done for. Be in the hospital a week. Ought to send these Louisiana thugs straight home. We don't need their kind." People swarmed around Gideon, slapping his back, congratulating him. It was safe now that the battle was over. He realized how close he'd come to being killed. While he was fighting, the thought had never entered his mind. He shook his head. Looked for Margaret She'd understand. Suddenly a lamp held by-one of the girls illuminated Margaret's face. He couldn't believe what he saw. His knees gave out. He started to fall. The Blind Pig made a feeble attempt to catch him; failed. Gideon tumbled sideways. The left side of his face-the knifed, bleeding side-smeared against the skirt of Margaret's gown before he hit the walk and sprawled. The last thing he remembered was Margaret's expression. She looked at the swath of blood on her skirt, then down at him. Even with his eyes watering and things growing grotesquely distorted, he recognized the meaning of the look. There was no pride on her lamplit face. Only anger. IV i Voices. Margaret's first, edged with irritation:" "Where did you get that, Willa?" "Oh, we just keep it hid around here. Do we have to say where?" "You know how Aunt Eliza feels about liquor. If she realized you had a bottle cached in the shop-was Another girl broke in: "We're the ones working half the night to finish the uniforms. Shouldn't we have a little something to make the time go faster?" 418The Tigers "And the seams come out crooked?" Margaret snapped back. He heard grumbles. The first girl spoke again: "You sound in a fearful temper." "Do you blame me?" "Well," Willa sniffed, "We ain't being" of any help standing around discussin' temperance. This gin will clean up his knuckles and that gash." Though he hadn't opened his eyes, sensation was returning to Gideon's body. He was seated in a chair, his legs stretched out. He ached like the devil. The left side of his face felt warmer than the right. A lamp close by? His nose itched. That told him where he was. The back room of La Mode Shoppe. He'd been there before, and he'd sneezed violently every time because of all the thread and lint lying loose. He probed his lower lip with his tongue. Found a small, clotted cut. Something wet and sweet-smelling pressed his left cheek. His eyes popped open: "Jesus Christl That hurts!" "You sit still, Mr. Kent I need to swab out the cut. Marcy, hand me a piece of linen." The girl hovering behind one of the shop's I. M. Singer automatic sewing machines jumped to find the cloth for Willa, who knelt at his side. The reek of the gin and the heat of the lamp started his stomach churning. Vomit rose in his throat. Finally Willa finished cleaning his face and his raw knuckles. She handed him a fresh, folded square of linen: "Just hold that to your cheek and I think the bleeding will stop." "Thank you, ladies," Gideon breathed. He felt stiff, but he'd live. He peered into the shadows beyond the Singers and the cutting table. He couldn't locate Margaret. She must be standing behind him. The Titansbledai Her voice confirmed it: "You should have let me tend to him, Willa." Willa shrugged. "Would of, except you were nearly as unstrung as he was." "That's impertinent." Willa sighed. "Guess so." She didn't apologize. "You should rest, too," another girl said to Margaret "Those Tigers treated you pretty rough." "Mean bastards," said a third. Gideon managed a grin. "Nothing a Virginian couldn't handle." The attempt at levity had precisely the wrong result Margaret exhaled loudly. He tried to crane his head around while still holding the linen to his cheek: "Where the devil have you got to, Margaret?" "Here." She walked to where he could see her. The blood on her gold skirt had turned brown. She looked as if she were ready to cry. "You all right?" he asked. "Fine. Perfectly-fine." "You don't sound so fine." "You were a fool to throw yourself at those bullies!" "A fool?" He sat up straighter, causing an unexpected and painful throb along his spine. "What the hel-what the devil was I supposed to do? Stand by and give "em permission to rape you right in public?" A girl tittered. "They acted like they'd seen you before." "This afternoon. Two of them accosted me on the street. After I left you at the hotel, I noticed them when I was turning into the shop. They were down at the end of the block. And waiting at the door when I came out." "Two of the Blind Pigs hauled 'em to the lockup," one of the girls said. "Wonderful," Margaret said. Gideon clucked his tongue. "I don't know why you're 420The Tigers so blasted peevish. You were in a bad scrape. Someone had to get you out!" "You could have waited for help-was she began. "What help? Ladies and little boys on the hotel omnibus? Old fossils with rusty muskets? Jesus!" He shook his head. "I don't understand this." "Oh, you don't?" Fists clenched, she leaned down. "You attacked those three men without a weapon. You could have been killed. You were crazy to do it!" A gasp of astonishment from Willa. Glances of surprise, then derision from the other two girls. Margaret was aware of the reaction. Nervously, she brushed back a curl straggling in front of her ear. When she spoke again, he sensed she was addressing the girls as well: "Please don't think I'm ungrateful-was "Why, no! How would I possibly get that idea?" "Don't be snide. You were too rash. That temper of yours-was Willa thumped the gin bottle on the cutting table. "Lord. I can't stand any more. Margaret Marble, you can fire me for sayin" so, but you oughta be ashamed. Mr. Kent pulls you out of a ferocious muss, and instead of thankin' him, you're jabbin' him about-was "I do thank him!" Margaret blazed. "But it's no business of yours." "Sure is, long as he's being badgered. Riles me something fierce. Mr. Kent did what any decent young man would have done-was The others seconded her loudly. Close to tears, Margaret spun away from them: "God! Nobody has any sense any more! Nobody!" She ran to the front of the shop. Gideon rose, pulled the linen from his cheek and winced. He dabbed the linen on a spot of blood oozing from a scraped knuckle. "I'll try to straighten this out, Miss Willa. Thanks for your help." The Titansbledba "Least I could do. I'd be proud to have a cavalry soldier lookin' after me." "Well. Margaret is too. Those Mississippi river rats upset her, that's all." The girls weren't convinced and neither was he. He was angrv. and more than a little insulted by her behavior Apparentlv she objected to his attack on the Tiger Zouaves for the same reason she objected to his eagerness to ride off to Harper's Ferry. And even though she'd given him a hint of the reason for her feelings, understanding those feelings wasn't the same as sympathizing. How to deal with her? How to convince her she was wrong? Especially now, when men had no choice but to defend their homes-and, in the case of scum like the Tigers-their women? Damned if he knew the answer. One thing was plain, though. He'd have to find it soon. All of a sudden he and the girl he cared for had confronted a wall that divided them just as surely as long-standing animosities divided the North and South. In a tired voice, he said, "I'll go talk to her. Maybe she's settled down. I expect you ladies want to go back to work-was "Don't want to," Willa said. "Got to." She shooed the other girls like a mother hen: "Marcy, hide the gin. Miss Eliza will be back from church before long. Heloise, take those bloody linens out to the scrap bin. Bury "em-way down in the bottom." Gideon paused at the curtained doorway. "I'll be seeing Margaret home-was Willa nodded absently. "She wrote a note for Miss Eliza." The girl pulled her stool up to the cutting table, gave him a pitying look and sat down. In the darkened front of the store, Margaret stood still as a statue. He touched her arm: "We can go." 422The Tigers She spun around. "Gideon, you misunderstood everything I tried to say back there!" "No, I didn't. I just didn't care for it much. Come on, let's not squabble." "But you rush into danger without thinking about-was "Enough, Margaret. I did what any man would do. Now shall I see you home or not?" There was an instant when he wished she'd say no. With his face throbbing and his body hurting, he was in bad spirits. He had a premonition the trip to Rockett's might only worsen their differences- He resolved not to let it happen. He loved her too much to see everything spoiled. It's up to me to change her mind. In reply to his question, she said, "Yes, I do want you to take me home. It's more important than ever that you meet my father." Outside, he drew a deep breath of the night air. Scratched his nose and sneezed. "Could we walk back to Ninth first? I lost my hat someplace." "Of course. I wouldn't want you to look anything less than splendid when you go riding off to-was She cut off the sentence; caught his hand: "Forgive me. I keep saying things I shouldn't." He squeezed her fingers. "Forgiven." But he wasn't reassured. Her hand felt frigid. He managed to locate the shako, dusty but otherwise undamaged. Under a gas lamp, she watched him settle it on his head and stretch the strap beneath his chin. Her eyes were sad. Hand in hand but awkwardly silent, they went to catch the horsecar. CHAPTER IV Lost Love IRON GRINDING AGAINST IRON, the horsecar rolled through the May dark. The car was pulled by a swaybacked nag in blinders. The animaPs hoofs struck the street with a slow clopping rhythm. As the car climbed a slight grade, an oil lantern hooked to the ceiling shifted the shadows of the passengers. Only three people were aboard besides Gideon and Margaret. Two were bearded, tipsy fellows with huge bellies and the look of dock workers. The third, seated in the rear, was a gaunt young woman in a flamboyant scarlet pelisse. She either lived in Rockett's or was searching for an evening's employment. The car windows were lowered to admit the mild night air. But the interior still smelled stale. The atmosphere wasn't improved when one of the men passed wind. The young woman laughed. In a moment she moved to the front of the car and struck up a conversation. The three began whispering. Gideon heard what he thought was haggling over prices. Since the start of the ride, Margaret had been sitting with her hands clasped in her lap and her eyes straight ahead. Several times she seemed on the verge of speaking but held back. Gideon felt much better. Physically. His mood was growing steadily worse. That was the subject Margaret finally used to end the silence:

424Lost Love "I can tell you're furious with me." He let out a long sigh. At least the tension was broken. He lied to her: "I'm more mixed up than anything else. You acted like I committed a sin going after those Tigers." "You still think I'm ungrateful." She reached for his hand. "Honestly, I'm not. But to throw yourself at three armed and vicious men-was "Why must we keen going over it, Margaret? I did what was necessary! What happened was my fault. K I hadn't let my belly get the best of my brains I'd have walked you back to the shop." The two men and the woman in red were talking boisterously now. There was a great deal of patting and pinching going on at the front of the car. Margaret shook her head: "Necessary. I suppose that's what my father told my mother when he joined up for the Mexican War." Her gaze drifted out the window to a saloon where piano music jangled. "You don't know how much war has cost me. Mama fell ill while Papa was serving with the Kentucky Mounted Volunteers. She died almost a week to the day after he fought at Buena Vista." "That was a big battle." "Big and ghastly. It would have been better if he'd died there." "You said something like that before. Jesus, Margaret comx's cruel." "You won't think so when you see him." Her eyes moved from the saloon to passing store fronts, all dark. The white-whiskered driver clanged the bell and shouted at a pair of boys who raced across the track. A second later, half a dozen loud pops- firecrackers-started the horse whinnying and balking. The driver swore; lashed the reins over the nag's back. The car rolled forward again. In a solemn voice, Margaret went on, "Papa came The Titansbledbe home in the spring of "47. We moved back into the home place-I stayed with some neighbors after Mama was buried. Papa couldn't work the farm. Women who lived close by brought food from time to time. But it wasn't enough. So Papa hired a twelve-year-old boy to come over once a day and kill one of the rabbits," "Did you raise them?" "Yes. They were so pretty-soft and white. We had dozens of cages. Mama built most of them before she died. I gave all the rabbits names. That made killing them harder than ever. I bawled every time the neighbor boy showed up. Papa wouldn't pay any attention. He'd just say, Ephraim, you go out and bring us Joseph. Bring us Samantha-I'm not even sure those were the names. But I remember screaming when Ephraim went out to the hutches. I'd wait for the sound. Little as I was, I remember the sound to this day." She was pale. He asked, "What sound?" "The sound when Ephraim broke the rabbit's head with a stone. Papa said that way was quicker and more merciful. For-for a while I wouldn't eat any of the rabbit meat-was Tears filled her eyes. "You see what it cost? My mother's life. The animals. Papa-was "But he's alive!" "Not really." The overhead lamp swayed, flinging her shadow behind her shoulder. Gideon struggled for the proper words: "Well--your feelings make a little more sense now. Trouble is, sometimes people have to fight for what they believe." "Christ didn't teach that. I don't accept that." "What are you going to do, then? Just-stand aside from the war? Take no part in it?" Softly: "That's right." 426Lost Love "You honestly don't believe we've got to fight for the South's independence?" "Is that what the war's about? I'm not so sure." "Hen, yes that's what it's about. Freedom to live the way we please. My great-great-grandfather Kent fought for the same thing in the Revolution. So did his grandson commy grandfather Jared. He was aboard Old Ironsides when she got her nickname and we whipped the British once and for all. The Kents have always stood up for what they believed, Margaret. Even my father did in his own crazy way." "And how many Kents-including, your father- have been hurt?" "That's beside the point" "It certainly isn't. Life's too precious to squander on-was "Nobody's squandering anything! Nothing worthwhile comes cheap, Margaret!" The red-clad woman and her companions stared. Gideon lowered his voice: "I still get the feeling you don't believe in the South." "You're unfair!" "Why?" "You imply I'm some sort of traitor because I can't stand to see lives ruined." "Well, do you believe in the cause or don't you?" She hesitated. "I can't lie to you. Not after the things we've already said to each other. No, I don't believe in black slavery." To her surprise, he waved that aside: "I'm discovering there are a lot of lads in the troop who don't. Growing up, I thought most everyone did. But it's a bigger question than the nigras going free. It's a question of rights." "If that's all it is, then I'm a Southerner." He looked relieved. "I might even say yes to defending those rights if I thought we could win quickly." The Titansbledbg His eyes hardened. "But you don't." "No. And every statistic about the North says I'm right." He tried a smile: "I still say one Virginian can lick a dozen Yanks." "Gideon-Gideon-was She clutched his sleeve. "That's what terrifies me so much. Your-little boy attitude. Don't argue, that's what it is. You'll go charging off behind Stuart, having a grand time and singing at the top of your lungs. Until the minute you see one of your friends shot to death, or-was She bent her head. Her bonnet hid her face. "Or die yourself." She turned to plead with him: "God gave men life. They have no right to throw it away, I don't care how holy they think their cause is! Rather than know you were hurt, I'd sooner die myself. Or never see-was She stopped. Angry again, he finished the sentence for her: "Never see me again?" "Gideon, I didn't mean-was "You did." "Sweetheart, let's not quarrel-was His laugh was harsh. "Appears to me weVe already done a heap of it, Margaret And there's no sign we'll be doing any less till you change your mind." "I won't. But you will, after you meet Papa-was She broke off again. The car had stopped. The gaunt woman and her two customers were-leaving. The driver rapped on the partition between the left and right front doors: "End of the line." 428Lost Love li Margaret glanced outside, startled. "I didn't realize we were here already-was Gideon rose to let her out, then followed her to the head of the car as the swaying lamp came to rest. The horse stamped and blubbered its lips as the couple emerged on a dark, cobbled street which angled sharply down toward the James. Lanterns gleamed on three small packets tied up at piers. The neighborhood-mostly warehouses and factories comappeared deserted And smelled none too savory. The odors of dampness and mold mingled with the stench of garbage. The driver started unhitching the nag in preparation for the return trip, on which it would pull from the opposite end of the car. As Margaret and Gideon passed, the old man gave them a perfunctory smile: "Hope you young folks enjoyed the ride. May be one of the last you'll get." Margaret halted. "Are they going to discontinue service on the line?" The driver stroked tobacco-stained whiskers. "Could be. The superintendent said work gangs would be ripping up the rails pretty quick now. The metal's valuable, y'know. Every piece of metal in the South's valuable if we're gunna have enough guns to beat the fucki- uh-the damn Yanks." Margaret looked shaken by this latest evidence of disruption. Perhaps because the driver was embarrassed by his lapse in language, he switched his attention to Gideon: "You're a sojer, eh?" "Macomb's Hussars." "Oh, yeah. Quartered out at Camp Lee." The Titansbledbi "We've moving to Harper's Ferry this coming Sunday." The old man slapped his arm. "Good for you! Wish I was young enough to go. You kill a few of them abolitionists fer me, y'hear?" "Do my best," Gideon said; but not too loudly. Margaret had already moved away. Her rigid back showed how much she hated that kind of talk. He caught up with her and took hold of her arm. Their long shadows leaped across the face of a tobacco warehouse, which ended abruptly at a dark, narrow passage he assumed was an alley. To his surprise, Margaret turned into it He was astonished to see lamps lit behind curtains in the windows of three rickety frame buildings no better than the New York tenements he'd read about. The buildings formed a U at the end of the cul-de-sac. His boot slipped on a rotting cabbage. A fat-bellied rat went scurrying by in front of them. The air in the dead end was foul. She led him to the sagging stoop of the building at the bottom of the U. On the second floor of the one to his left, he heard a profane argument between a man and a woman. Without looking around, Margaret said: "Welcome to Melton's Court Not very courtly, is it? I didn't want to bring you here. I've always been ashamed of it." He hurt for her. Tried to soothe her bitterness: "There's nothing shameful about living in a poor place-was She spun on the second step, her face dim in the light filtering through filthy curtains in a first floor window. "Oh, yes, there is. Especially when the thing that brought us here is the very thing you're so eager to experience. Come inside. Ill show you how splendid it is to be a soldier." 430Lost Love ni The moment she opened the outer door, he whiffed the vileness of the place. Disinfectant and rotting wood, evening cooking and human filth blended into a sickening miasma. The lower hall was lightless. A feeble gas jet glimmered on the second landing. As if marching to some private battle, Margaret began to climb the stairs with hard, precise steps. On the second floor, she drew a key from her reticule, unlocked one of three doors and went in. He pulled off his shako as he entered the flat. Another gas fixture cast slightly brighter light in the parlor. The furnishings were shabby; out of date. The broken leg of a settee was propped up with a small chunk of pine. The carpet was worn and dingy. Yet the room was immaculate. Furniture and sills showed no dust. The only disorder was a spill of newspapers at the foot of a horsehair chair positioned beneath the gas jet. Margaret and her aunt obviously worked hard to keep the place presentable. To his right, he observed a narrow haDo with two closed doors and light at the end. He could see only a few details of the kitchen. A stained plank floor. A portion of a chipped table. A washboard leaning against a large iron kettle beside the rear door. Back there, a man was muttering to himself. Margaret took off her bonnet and laid it on an old cherrywood taboret. Sounding tired, she saidHave "The profits from the shop have always been slim. Aunt Eliza's also inclined to let her Christianity influence her credit policy. She doesn't object if customers wait six or eight months to pay their bills. She'd be able to live in a much nicer section if she weren't so devoted to temper The Titansbledca ance work-and spent the rest of her money on one person instead of three." From the kitchen, the man called in a slurry voice: "Who's there? Margaret?" "Yes, Papa. With a visitor." "A visitor-his Lord amighty!" Gideon didn't know precisely what he'd been expecting. But it certainly wasn't the kind of jocular boom he was hearing: "A lady or a gentleman?" "Gentleman." "Then I'll bring a jug-was A purple oath and a rattle testified to a near calamity with glassware. Next Gideon heard a peculiar scraping. A grotesque figure popped into sight at the end of the hall. It was a man-or half of one-on a small wood platform with rollers affixed to the bottom. Glasses and a bottle gleamed in the man's lap as he propelled himself along the corridor. He pushed against the floor with his palms; strong, vigorous pushes. The closer he came, the more Gideon smelled whiskey. The parlor reeked by the time the man arrived. The gaslight showed Gideon the pinned-back trouser legs on both sides of the man's crotch. He was too flustered to speak. At first glance, Margaret's father appeared to be healthy despite his crippled condition. His hair was white, spiky, uncombed. His bleary grin was cordial. As the moments of strained silence passed, though, more details registered. Even whiskey couldn't mask the man's fetid breath. His cheeks were sunken. His prominent nose was pink, and he had trouble focusing his eyes. His only strength lay in the over-developed shoulders and forearms. Gideon guessed he was forty-five or forty-six. He looked sixty. "Papa, this is the young man I've mentioned before. 432Lost Love Mister-ah, Lieutenant Gideon Kent. Gideon, this is my father, Wfflard Marble." "How do you do, Mr. Marble?" "Sergeant's the name I go by, Kent." He sounded petulant. "Margaret knows everybody in Melton's Court calls me the Sergeant. That's the rank I held in '47-holy Christ, Margaret, take these things! Here, here-was He fumbled in his lap. Only Margaret's quick action prevented a glass from breaking. "Put those on the table." She did. "Now hoist me up so I can meet your friend proper-like-was Gideon stepped forward to help. Margaret waved him back. Avoiding his eyes, she slipped her hands beneath her father's arms, dragged him off the little platform and supported him with one hand while she pushed the horsehair chair against his back. With the girl lifting and the man pushing-he had huge knuckles comhe was soon in the chair. Gaslight showed rust on the pins of his trousers More cheerful again, he rubbed his watering eyes while he studied Gideon: "So this is the one. Handsome specimen, Margaret." "Papa!" "Well, goddamn it, he is!" A fuzzy grin. "Looks like a horse soldier's outfit, son." "Yes, sir. I'm with Macomb's Hussars." Marble gestured to the litter of newspapers. "I've read about "em. Hell of a bunch." The man had trouble articulating his words. Bunch sounded like bunsssh. His yellowed teeth were too even to be his own. The odor of whiskey and sweat sat on him like a ground fog. Gideon twisted his shako in his fingers. "Sit down, young man, sit down! Margaret, where's your hospitality? Pour a dollop for our guest." Stiffly, she walked to the chipped table where she'd The Titansbledcc set the bottle and glasses. "This is really quite unlike you, Papa. I mean drinking before Aunt Eliza or I get home." Straight-faced, Gideon sat down as if he hadn't heard the lie behind her words. "Unlike-?" Marble scratched his belly. All at once Margaret's strategy registered on his fuddled mind. "Oh-guess it is. Guess it is! Had to celebrate, though." She poured liquor into two glasses. One drink was scanter than the other. She handed the short one to her father: "What do you have to celebrate?" He scowled at the meager drink and didn't take it immediately. He dug in the pocket of his threadbare vest. Drew out folded sheets of paper: "I heard from Uncle Sam today. He's in the army again. 'Course, itfs the wrong army. But at least he's back where he belongs." "He belongs in a saloon. He's not fit for anything else." "Hang ft, Margaret, don't be so hard on the man! He's the finest friend I ever had. I treasure knowing him." To Gideon: