The Titans (41 page)

The Titans563 scription of the action at Manassas. In contrast to the other people Gideon had met on the streets, Edward was in unusually high spirits. He seemed unaffected by the city's forlorn atmosphere. "That's exciting, Gideon," he said when Fan's son finished his account of the battle. "Exciting and heartening. So is your news about marriage." He smiled at his wife. "I haven't found out if your mother approves of this young lady, though." "We only met this evening, Edward. She seems pleasant and quite intelligent. She's certainly attractive-was With a touch of sadness, Fan gazed at the powerful- looking young man near the fire. "But I wonder if I really have any say in the matter. I look at Gideon and realize he doesn't belong to me any longer." It was said gently. Gideon took no offense: "I want your approval." "A mother gives her approval to a boy, not to a man. I can't get over how much you've changed since we left Washington." He smiled, but without much humor. "I'd guess everyone who was at Manassas and lived through it looks a few years older." "Well," Edward said, "I'm damned sorry Davis didn't permit Jackson to push on to the Potomac." He rose and paced to a cracked mirror to. smooth his mustache. "The President will take a good deal of fire for that decision, I'll wager." Edward turned back to mother and son. Gideon wondered why he didn't feel wholly comfortable in his stepfather's presence tonight. Perhaps it was because Edward's jovality struck him as peculiar. Bad humor would have been a.more logical mood for someone forced to work until after two in the morning. "I do regret I didn't meet Miss Marble," Edward continued. "But I will in a day or two. I'm looking forward to it." 564The Murderer Gideon stretched; yawned again. "I'm looking forward to falling into that tin tub." "I wish we had a second bedroom for you," Fan apologized. Gideon pointed a big toe at an old settee: "That'll feel as comfortable as a cloud. I may sleep for two days." "You deserve it!" Edward said. Gideon shook his head. "I'm only joking. I have to hunt up a horse. And send a letter to Miss Wonderly. Along with the flag-was His eye moved to the mantel. The blood-marked Stars and Bars lay folded beside the clock. He'd already explained how he'd come to have it, and why it was to be sent on to White House. Edward snapped his fingers. He stalked to the table where he'd flung a paper he'd brought home: "With all this talk of marriage and the battle, I nearly forgot a piece of news I saw in the late edition." He opened the paper and pointed out a column. Gideon blinked to focus his itching eyes. Suddenly he exclaimed: "Oh, my God." Fan leaned forward. "What is it, Gideon?" He handed the paper across. "The crowd of civilians who came out to watch the fighting included reporters. Some of the civilians were captured near Cub Run. One-was He felt utterly confused; uncertain whether his response should be elation or dejection. "comone of them was father." White-faced, Fan read the item. Gideon saw a flash of anxiety in her eyes as she whispered one word: "Concussion-was She glanced up. "Edward, what will they do with him?" "Imprison him, naturally. But give him medical assistance, as the story indicates. What difference does it The Titans565 make? I'm certainly not going to fret about his welfare." Somehow that angered Gideon. He peered at his filthy toes, wondering why he was concerned about a man who had villified his mother; a man he'd struck in rage. He knew one reason. Ever since Fan had written him about the street encounter with Edward's friend Cheever, doubt had deviled him. Doubt about Edward's honesty. Edward stepped behind Fan's chair. Reached down to squeeze her shoulders between his palms: "Neither should you. After his outrageous behavior in Washington, he's entitled to no sympathy from us." Fan sighed. "I expect you're right. But he is hurt-was Gideon felt a new admiration for his mother when she added, "Perhaps we should at least inquire about his condition." Edward withdrew his hands; shrugged. "Inquire if you wish. I'll have nothing to do with it." Again Gideon was troubled. Edward's curt words didn't quite fit with his expression. His cheeks were flushed all at once. And Gideon thought he detected a momentary half-smile on the actor's mouth. Fan, gazing at her lap, didn't notice. "I'm going to bed," Edward announced. Fan stood up slowly. "We all should. I'll check to see whether the water's boiling-was "I can pour the bath, Mama." "No, let me. Oh, Gideon-was She rushed to embrace him. "I'm so thankful you're safe!" With a vehement nod, Edward said, less-than 4Those are my sentiments, too." When Fan and her son separated, Edward walked to Gideon's side and gripped his arm in a comradely way. "Enjoy your rest. God knows you've earned it forty times over." "Thank you," Gideon said as Edward turned to 566The Murderer leave. He struggled to keep his face blank. He was startled by an odor he'd whiffed while Edward stood close to him. The actor bid them good night. On his way out, he paused to touch the flag on the mantel. His fingers caressed it almost reverently. Then he left the parlor. A moment later, a door closed down the hall. Gideon followed his mother along the dark, lightless corridor. Behind the bedroom door he heard Edward humming softly. Suspicion flared in his mind again. He nearly spoke to Fan but held back at the last instant. He carried the kettle of boiling water from the stove to a corner of the kitchen. He filled the tin tub while Fan hovered at his elbow. He kissed her cheek and said good night. Presently the bedroom door closed a second time. He stripped off his filthy clothes and put one foot in the tub. He yelped. The water was scalding. He clenched his teeth, held the sides of the tub and lowered himself cautiously. After the initial shock, the water was wonderfully relaxing. Pleasant images of Margaret drifted behind his closed eyelids. If she had her way-and he had no plans to object-they'd be married before the weekend. Tired as he was, the thought of the wedding night aroused him. He deliberately shifted his mind to the pressing and seemingly insoluble problem of finding another mount. He offered Margaret a mental apology for thinking of horseflesh instead of her. But he was useless to the army without a horse. And they were in short supply. He also had no money to buy one. No solution suggested itself. He let his mind wander. Thought of Edward again. He kept remembering Edward's good humor, minus any hint of pique about long hours. The only subject that had annoyed him was the mention of Jephtha Kent The Titans567 That didn't seem natural for a man who'd labored at his job well into the night- But had he? Gideon wondered. He'd smelled Edward's breath. I can't imagine the Treasury serves refreshments to clerks who stay late. And he said he came straight home- So why had Edward's breath carried the faint but unmistakable odor of beer? ii At a quarter past nine on Wednesday evening, darkness hid the magnificent statuary of Capitol Square. In the dimly lit rotunda of the Capitol itself a slow procession still moved past the flower-covered biers of Bee and Bartow. The evening was windy. Thunder muttered in the northwest. Gideon and Margaret had just come from a short visit with the rector of St. Paul's. Yes, he would be glad to solemnize their marriage; he was grateful for the opportunity to preside at a joyous event. Too much sadness lay on Richmond in the wake of the magnificent victory of Sunday past- Holding Margaret's arm, Gideon walked toward the intersection of Bank and Eleventh. For protection after dark, he'd brought along one of his Colts. The sight of it in his sash had produced an awkward moment with the elderly churchman. But now he noticed a group of scruffy-looking soldiers loitering across the way; not the first they'd seen. He was glad to have the weapon visible. A hearse was passing as they reached Bank. The horses wore black plumes. Two carriages of mourners followed. The hearse and carriages proceeded west on Bank-just one of dozens that had journeyed to Holly 568The Murderer wood Cemetery these past two days. To accommodate the numerous families that had lost loved ones, funerals were being scheduled from early morning to well after dark. Gideon and Margaret paused in front of the granite bulk of the Treasury Building to watch the cortege. All the Treasury's windows were dark. Two gray-clad soldiers with muskets guarded the entrance. Boys, Gideon thought with contempt, even though the guards were only a year or two younger. With a sad little shake of her head, Margaret gazed after the disappearing carriages. "What's wrong?" Gideon asked. "I was just thinking about those poor people. I suppose it's shameful for us to be so happy when so many others are grieving-was She leaned up to kiss him. "But I can't help it." "Nor I. And I don't imagine anyone will get after us for being happy while we can." "Gideon-was "Yes?" "Have you had any word of your father?" "No. Mama hasn't inquired. She mentioned doing it, but Edward's against it I imagine he's right. My father's a prisoner of war. An enemy." Something within him still protested the harshness of that judgment. Earlier in the evening, he'd told Margaret the whole story of the encounter at the Washington hotel. She'd offered no comment until now: "The fact that he's your father is more important, don't you think? Perhaps it's not my place to say it, but I really believe you ought to find out whether he's recovering." "No, Margaret. We owe him nothing. He accused my mother of scheming with Edward to get hold of the California money. By means of murder-was "There's no truth in that, of course." The Titans569 "None," Gideon declared. Yet he couldn't escape certain recollections that crept into his thoughts at unexpected moments-particularly the memory of Edward's pretending not to recognize someone he'd previously admitted knowing. Twice, Gideon had started to discuss the incident with Fan, only to decide it would just upset her. She already had enough problems coping with near-poverty because of Edward's fanatical insistence on serving the cause. Margaret asked, "Do you know where your father is?" "The City Almshouse." "How did you find out?" "It was in the Enquirer this morning. A lot of the military prisoners and some of the civilians are temporarily quartered at the Almshouse." "If you wanted to, could you get in?" "Not without a pass. The authorities are taking no chances. There are too many angry people in Richmond. Some of the wagons bringing in prisoners were stoned, you know. Stoned and shot at-I'm sure I wouldn't be allowed past the front door." They were nearing Main. Gideon intended to leave Margaret at La Mode Shoppe, where she and her aunt would spend the rest of the night watching two wounded Georgia infantrymen who were recuperating on cots in the back room. Margaret wouldn't drop the subject of Jephtha: "Of course it's your affair. But I'd certainly go to the Almshouse and ask about him." Gideon held back a sharp retort. Since Edward had shown hhii the paper and Fan had suggested the same sort of inquiry Margaret was endorsing, Gideon had in fact come close to attempting to locate his father several times. In spite of the accusations that had led to violence comor perhaps because of them-he felt guilty about ignoring the man who'd given him life. The fact that the 570The Murderer man was a Yank, and a maniacal one, didn't alter his feelings, even though he steadfastly said just the opposite. It was a major admission to murmur: "Maybe you're right. Papa and I can never be close again. But if he's dying, I suppose finding out is the only decent thing to do." The conflicting pulls-a hatred he couldn't quite sustain; a guilt that grew increasingly sharper-drove him to add: "Perhaps I'll do it in a day or so." "For certain?" "No, I'm not ready to say that." "You'd feel better if you were." He didn't answer. He was ashamed to confess she might be correct in Josiah Cheever occupied a room in a boarding house a block from the Richmond, Fredericksburg and Potomac depot. The room wasn't much different from the squalid place where he'd lived in Washington. At ten past nine that same evening, he closed the filthy curtains and sat down on a cane chair while Edward La- mont unloaded papers from a worn satchel. "This is the work I'm supposed to be doing tonight, Lamont said as he stacked the papers on the bed. "I'll leave it here and pick it up afterward. Along with this-was He held up a small milk-glass jar. "Hair blacking. I'll need it again before I go home." "You've thought of everything," Cheever said. "Preparation is the foundation of the actor's craft, Josiah." Lamont stripped off his clean shirt. Cheever licked his lips. His pointed face shone with sweat. Excitement brightened his eyes. Under the single pale gas fixture, Lamont went to the greater-than was The Titans571 washstand. He bent, cupped water into his hands and spilled it over his head. Within minutes, the basin was stained by the blacking. More of it came off on a ragged towel. Dried, Lamont's hair and mustache showed pronounced streaks of gray. "Hand me a piece of charcoal." Cheever scuttled to the cold hearth. Watching his image in the blurred mirror behind the stand, Lamont daubed charcoal on his upper lip, chin and throat. With the tip of his little finger he applied a touch below each eye. He rubbed the charcoal carefully until it blended with his day's growth of beard. Then he added very light lines to the creases in his forehead and alongside his nose. He blended these, too, so they appeared natural. Cheever marveled at the swift transformation. Lamont's face now belonged to a man who got dirty in his work and didn't bother to clean up. A few more applications of charcoal, and Lamont's hands were equally grubby. The actor snapped his fingers. "The clothes." Cheever began pulling parcels from under the bed. He unwrapped them one by one: "Work boots. Homespun shirt. The duster-was "What about trousers?" "I couldn't locate an old pair exactly your size." "All right. I'll wear my own and smear mud on them." Proudly, Cheever held up a soft black hat with a wide, floppy brim and a hole in the crown. "This looks seedy enough, don't you think?" Lamont laughed. "Perfect." His hard, muscular chest showed his rapid breathing. Like Cheever, his eyes shone with excitement. He buttoned the coarse shut, donned the duster-"A little tight, but it'll do." comthen exchanged his own clean boots for the much older ones. As he tugged on the right boot, he said: 572The Murderer "Were you able to learn anything further about Kent's condition?" "I confirmed the report I got yesterday. Hell definitely recover. But he's sleeping a good deal." "I hope your information's reliable." "It is." "I assume he'll be sleeping at this time of night" "Yes, I'd imagine so." "Where are they