The Titans (45 page)

616The Better Angels Georgetown College and walk all the way to Pennsylvania Avenue. In the past few weeks he'd lost fourteen pounds. He was gaunt in the face and seldom clean shaven. His splendid Zouave uniform was long gone. He'd thrown all of it away except for his trousers and shirt on that Sunday afternoon last month when- He closed his eyes and tossed off the whiskey, trying not to remember. A couple of civilians at the bar objected to the captain's remarks. But not loudly enough to discourage him: "We've heard a lot of damned nonsense about poor leadership. Speaking as an eyewitness-as a man who was there-I can tell you the fault doesn't lie with the commanders. Ninety percent of the enlisted men in the Union Army are damned yellow-bellies." At the far end of the bar a huge, bearded man slammed down his whiskey glass. He stalked to the captain, caught him by the left epaulette and spun him around: "And I say you're a damned liar, shoulder-straps!" The captain started to laugh. Then he took the full measure of the big man's size. He replied in a mumble: "Who the devil are you?" "Name's Whitman, if that matters. I write a bit for the New York papers. I help in the hospitals, too-was "So?" Red-faced, the burly Whitman jerked the captain's epaulette again: "Don't sneer at me, you son-of-a-bitch. I've knelt by the cots of those poor youngsters shot up at Bull Run. were you with them?" "Indeed, I wasl My regiment was never actually committed to the fighting, but I saw-was "Oh, you saw!" Whitman roared. "You saw, did you, shoulder-straps? Well then, you tell me where all The Titans617 the Union companies have gone to! I tell you where-they've gone to their graves because their leaders ran and abandoned them. I've talked to the boys who got back. I know the truth. Blow-brag-put on airs in Willard's parlors-Bull Run was your work." "Blast your insolence-was the captain began. "Your sl" Whitman jabbed an index finger against the captain's chest. "You and the rest of those incompetents who call themselves officers. If you'd been half as brave as your men-one-tenth!-Bull Run would never have happened!" Michael was fascinated by the strange, bullying fellow. He was so furious, tears were forming in his eyes. The officer reached for the hilt of his saber: "I'd be happy to settle this difference with you outside. Not only happy-I insist." "I haven't got a weapon, shoulder-straps," Whitman said. "But I'll oblige you." "A male nurse! Probably fondles the little darlings while he's caring for them-was The captain's contemptuous aside produced only one laugh. Men were clustering around Whitman and the officer in anticipation of a fight. Slowly, Michael stood up. He threw his whiskey glass on the floor. The sound of it shattering turned every head. Michael weaved toward the bar, a rail-thin soldier in cast- off blue he'd recovered from a pile of clothing stripped off the Union dead brought back from Bull Run. The tittle metal harp winked on his forage cap. He reached the officer. His eyes were watering from the thick cigar smoke. "I'll oblige you, too, Captain. I'll join Mr. Whitman in obliging you right now." "Private, remember yourself!" the captain warned. "Fuck you." Someone clapped. The captain swallowed. He glanced at Michael's cap. "What's your unit? I intend to report-was 618The Better Angels "Go ahead! You go on down to Richmond and report me to Colonel Corcoran of the 69th. You'll find him in prison." The captain tried to be intimidating: "The New York 69th, is it?" "Yes-sir. The regiment that went up the Henry House Hill right after the Second Wisconsin and Colonel Cameron's Highlanders. We went all the way to the top. We weren't fortunate enough just to observe-was The words brought it all back; shook him; set hideous images whirling in his head: The running men stripped to shirt sleeves and weapons. The shoes left behind because they were too hot to wear. The shouts of encouragement-some in English, some in Gaelic. The rattle of musketry-and the deafening thunder of the rebel field pieces sweeping the summit as the first ranks reached it. The 69th had made three desperate charges against a Confederate battery. At last, beaten, the survivors had fled back down the slope and attempted to reorganize- Michael's golden-brown eyes glittered in the light of the hanging bar lamps. "Let me ask you, Captain-how many did your regiment lose?" "None!" Derisive laughter. "See here, that's not the point!" "Yes, it is," Michael said. "We lost thirty-eight dead, fifty-nine wounded, ninety-five missing. Sixteen percent of the regiment. We fought until the retreat to Centre- ville started and there were no more officers to give orders. Ours were lost. Every other one we saw was running" He took a step forward. Whitman tensed. The captain was sweating. The Titans619 Michael reached for the captain's epaulette: "You don't deserve these, Mr. Shoulder-straps-was A hand fastened on his arm: "Michael! Good Lord, I didn't expect to find you in the middle of a brawl!" "This preening prick-was Michael blurted. Abruptly, he recognized the grave, fatigued face of Joshua Roth- man. The captain chose the moment to whirl, dart away and rush for the door. He reddened as curses and jeers followed him. The eyes of the big bearded hospital orderly grew surprisingly gentle. He extended his hand to Michael: "I thank you for your offer of help, sir. But I'd have done it myself." "I know, Mr.-Whitman, is it? I just felt like joining you." "For that I don't blame you. God bless you, soldier." The crowd parted respectfully to permit Whitman to return to the drink he'd left at the end of the bar.

Michael Boyle had no stomach for the elegant supper Joshua Rothman had arranged in a private dining room on Willard's second floor. He poured a full goblet of white wine as Rothman dipped into his soup. "I knew from the papers that you must have been at Managsas," the banker said between swallows. "I don't doubt it was worse than any civilian can imagine." In his mind, Michael saw the emerald colors fall. "A lot worse." He tried to focus his eyes on Rothman's face. "Youf note was certainly unexpected, Joshua." A humorless smile. "At least it saved me from guard duty. I never imagined you'd turn up here-was 620The Better Angels "You didn't? With the Treasury pleading for loans from any available source? I'm seeing Secretary Chase in the morning." "But your note said you had something personal to discuss." "Quite personal-was Rothman put down his spopn. Dabbed his lips with his napkin. "Louis." The mention of the name produced a spontaneous image of Julia's vivid blue eyes. Disgusted with himself, Michael drank more wine. "What about Louis?" "He's going ahead with that profiteering scheme." "Federal Suppliers-was "Yes." Michael shook his head as if he were unbearably tired. Rothman continued, "I assumed your precipitous departure from Kentland and your equally quick disappearance from New York meant you wanted no part of it." "You're correct." But not entirely. There was another reason. "Well-was An embarrassed shrug. "comx took me a bit longer to reach my decision. Perhaps because I'm not as young as you, Michael. And, like most bankers, notoriously conservative. But I've done a good deal of thinking, and my original reaction stands. Louis' plan makes a mockery of the Kent name. He can't be permitted to carry it out. The only way to stop him is to threaten to expose him. Not merely threaten-do it, if necessary." Abruptly, Michael began to feel quite sober. "How, Joshua?" "In the newspapers." "You don't mean that." "I do." The Titans621 "Well, you certainly don't need my permission." "But I need your corroboration. K I show Louis a draft of an article describing the scheme, it's a standoff. His word versus mine. But you were at Kentland too. You and Israel Hope. I've written Hope a letter but as yet I've received no reply. So you're the only one who can help. You heard Louis. If there are two of us making the charges, I believe I can persuade Benbow and Benbow to release the incorporation papers for Federal Suppliers. Members of the Benbow firm still aren't happy about their involvement." "Who'd write such an article? You?" "My first thought was Jephtha. I understand he's back in Washington-was "Safe," Michael said. "He was caught in the retreat from Bull Run and held prisoner in Richmond for a while. Then he was paroled suddenly, though he won't say how he managed it. He came out to Georgetown to visit me two days ago-was He pondered. "I think Jephtha would do it. Louis is stealing what belongs to his sons. I think he'd do it even though it'd cost him his job." "It will cost us all something," Rothman admitted. "It will cost my bank the profits from handling a very considerable fortune. It'll cost the Benbows substantial fees and a major share of their business. It'll cost you-was "Never mind about me." "No, you must examine the risks, Michael. You'd acquire a powerful enemy." "Hell-was Michael shrugged; his alcoholic torpor was almost gone. "comI've already got thousands of those on the other side of the Potomac." "Do you plan to remain in the army?" "Yes. When my ninety-day enlistment ran out, I signed on again." Another sip of wine. "Suppose Louis refuses to be bluffed. Suppose it's actually necessary to print an article. The Union won't do it, much as Theo Payne might like to-was 622The Better Angels "Naturally. But someone will publish it Greeley- someone. I'll see to it." Quietly Michael asked, "Why are you doing this?" Rothman covered his eyes a moment. "I thought I explained. Evidently I didn't do it well. I have a very strong feeling for the Kent family, Michael. I believe the family stands for values Louis cares nothing about You'll probably accuse me of being a sentimental fool-was "Only sentimental." "Well, that's good. Because I'm going to say something very presumptuous. I know Louis is Amanda's flesh and blood. But I honestly feel you and I and the Benbows-and Mr. Hope before he resigned-are more representative of the Kents than Amanda's own son." Michael chuckled. "A slum boy, a Jewish banker, a bunch of Boston lawyers-Joshua, that is presumptuous." "I warned you. Still, I think we have a duty to preserve the family's integrity until such a time as Louis comes to his senses-or there are other Kents who understand then heritage better than the gentleman under discussion." The banker paused. Then: "Well, Michael? What do you say to my presumption?" "I applaud it I'll help you." "You must understand what you're doing. You'll never see a penny of your handsome salary again. You'll have Louis against you as long as you live." "He can't hurt me." "Not now. But when the war's over-when you need employment-was "Joshua, how can a soldier even be sure hell survive the war? I'll worry about Louis venting his wrath if and The Titans623 when it happens. Now, do you want me to speak to Jephtha, or will you?" "I think we should do it together. Do you know where he lives?" "G Street." "Tomorrow, then, after I've called on Chase-what the devil's so humorous?" "U. The presumptuous conspirators-was He raised his goblet. "Here's to us, Joshua. Custodians of the honor of a family to which we don't even belong." "Do you think it's an unworthy role?" Remembering Amanda, Michael replied: "No. It's exactly the right one. I do realize it means starting another war. Smaller than the one occupying the attention of the country, but no less fierce." Rothman grew thoughtful. "I might be wrong in what I said a moment ago. You could fare better with Louis than I predicted. It's very strange, but you seem to have acquired a strong partisan in his wife." "Julia?" "Yes. Ever since you left New York, she's praised you time am right-brace again-extravagantly. Before, she all but ignored you. Certainly a curious change, wouldn't you say?" Michael recalled her face; the taste of her mouth; the feel of her body that night he'd taken her. Her body. Responding to his- Perhaps she'd never known how it felt to be loved because of passion instead of marital necessity. He'd damned near-hell, he had raped her to prove he , wouldn't play her flirtatious games, and now she was- God, it was almost wickedly funny. Except that he had no desire to laugh just then. The memories roused emotions he'd been struggling against-unsuccessfully-ever since Kentland. Fool that he was, he cared for herl 624The Better Angels And now Rothman intimated she cared for him a little, too. Christ! What a ridiculous, impossible situation! And yet he knew that if he didn't fall in battle, he'd see her again. Somewhere, sometime-dangerous as it was for his peace of mind-he knew he'd see her- His hand jerked involuntarily, knocking over his goblet. Baffled, Joshua Rothman watched him as he dabbed at the spilled wine, then refilled the goblet and drained it. He was having trouble containing his urge to laugh. He couldn't get over how strangely things worked out for the Almighty's confused and imperfect creatures- The laughter erupted. He threw his head back, his voice pealing. He kept laughing, louder and louder. Joshua Rothman looked nonplussed, and completely incapable of deciding whether the tears streaming down Michael's cheeks were tears of mirth or misery. in Molly Emerson woke abruptly, wrinkling her nose. She'd been sleeping close to Jephtha despite the heat of the August night-no, the night was over, she realized. Grayness tinged the windows. She sniffed again. A cigar! Opening one eye, she saw the orange tip brighten, then fade. Jephtha exhaled smoke. He was propped in an awkward position, the back of his head jammed against the wooden headboard. Still drowsy, she slipped a hand across his stomach. "Can't you sleep?" The end of the cigar glowed and dimmed again. "No." She wondered whether it had anything to do with his meeting the preceding evening. He'd gone out to dine The Titans625 with two men she'd heard him mention in connection with the family interests in New York. The men had called for him in an expensive rented carriage. One of them, superbly dressed and growing gray, was introduced as Mr. Rothman, a banker from Boston. The other was a young Irish soldier named Boyle. After Jephtha had returned about midnigjit, he'd rushed straight to his room and spent three hours working on a piece of copy-a news story, she presumed- before he came to her bed. "Jephtha?" "Mmm?" "What are you thinking about?" He shifted his head to gaze down at her. Worked his arm beneath her shoulders, and his hand to her right breast, letting the fingers rest gently. I'm thinking perhaps you and I should get married." "Married?" After the shriek of surprise, she tried to sit up. "Calm down, Molly. Is marriage anything to get so " alarmed about?" "No, I just-I just don't understand what you're saying-was "It's perfectly straightforward, woman." "But you know-you've always known you weren't under any obligation to marry me just because we-was "Hush," he interrupted. "I've grown quite fond of you, Mrs. Emerson. More than fond. I believe I love you very much," She caught her breath. His voice had a note of- elation, that was the only word for it "Besides, I think marriage would probably be necessary before I set foot in a pulpit again." "A pulpitl Have you gone mad?" "I certainly hope not." "Then-then you've been drinking-was 626The Better Angels He opened his mouth. She smelled the cigar, but no alcohol. "Hiram died the day before yesterday," he said. Bafflement upon bafflement: "Hiram?" "The old black porter at the National. He was also the minister at Grace Redeemer, the African Methodist church up in Negro Hill." "Oh, yes, I do remember you mentioning that" "They need a temporary preacher. Hiram was ordained, you know. They want another ordained man to replace him. Finding one will take a while. The church said they'd pay me a dollar or two every week- whatever they can raise. I may need the money." "Why?" "I'm going to write an article for Mr. Rothman. It's possible-no, very likely-that as soon as I do, I'll be out of a job." Molly's head began to ache. All this was too much; incomprehensible. She untangled herself from his hand and once again started to sit up: "Jephtha Kent, what is going oril Why would you lose your job?" He leaned across and kissed her on the mouth. "I'll explain everything in due time, I promise." "But-I never thought you had the slightest desire to preach again." He shrugged, too casually. "Maybe I'm just curious to see whether I can still do it." She didn't believe it. Something had happened to him since his return from Richmond. Something she didn't understand. Of course she hadn't missed the distinct improvement in his spirits. He'd spoken with genuine fondness about his son Gideon, who had saved his life and exposed Lamont's plot. She'd attributed his changed mood to thankfulness that he was vindicated, out of the Confed- The Titans627 eraqy's hands-and no longer the enemy of his former wife and eldest son. But that was only part of it, she sensed now. His capture, imprisonment and parole had affected him more profoundly than she'd ever suspected. "Do you think you can preach again, Jephtha?" He picked up the cigar stub from the bedside table, puffed, then crushed it out. "Yes, I do. I couldn't do it a year ago. Not even a month ago. But now I can." "For so long a time, I-I thought you didn't believe in God any longer." "Perhaps I didn't. The fault was mine, not His. Life's curious, Molly. Here we are, caught in what will probably be the most devastating war in this nation's history coma war tearing the country apart-and in the midst of that, He showed me the angels." "Angels?" "Remember Lincoln's inaugural? 'The better angels of our nature-" I saw them in Gideon. And Fan. They can bring us through this war. They can heal the wounds afterward if we only let them. They were there all along but I didn't see them. Not even when you tried to show them to me-was He squeezed her shoulder, a smile in his voice: "You're a wonderful woman, Molly. The good Lord made you a fisher of men, not to mention a saver of string." She lay against him, her mind brimming with questions. How long had he been pondering his decision? All night? She'd ask him that, and many other things. But not now. She was too happy. The windows were lightening the bedroom's sultry darkness. At length Jephtha resumed: "Yes, I believe I'll help Hiram's congregation. Have 628The Better Angels to give up my whiskey, I suppose. And stop saying damn and hell in public-was He laughed, a deep, joyous sound. Somewhere in the street, sharp commands rang out. Horses trotted by. The noises of war. She could ignore them when he laughed. "We ought to shop for a ring soon, Molly. Oh, yes- and one more thing." He slipped his arm under her shoulder again, pulling her close. "I must buy another Testament." Epilogue Captain Kent, CS.A. Two notable events occurred on Saturday, May 31, 1862. One was private, the other public. Both were to affect the life of Captain Gideon Kent. After nine hours of labor, Margaret Marble Kent was delivered of a six and a half pound daughter. And General Joseph Johnston suffered a severe wound at Seven Pines, just a few miles east of Richmond. A vast Union army of invasion-a hundred thousand men and a siege train under the command of General McClellan-lay across the Peninsula, its target the capital. The campfires of the Northern lines could be seen from the city by night. Gideon Kent's elation over the birth of his first child, and the happy confusion attending the selection of a name, helped him forget for a few hours that Richmond was in mortal danger, the Confederacy's best general out of action and an unpopular replacement serving in his stead. Robert E. Lee's reputation had suffered after his defeats in western Virginia the preceding year. Captain Kent of the First Virginia Regiment of General Stuart's cavalry was not encouraged that the fortunes of the Army of Northern Virginia-and the future of the Confederacy-were now in the hands of the reserved, courtly soldier now being called "Evacuating" Lee. On Wednesday, the eleventh of June, Gideon was as629 630Captain Kent, C.sa. signed to a special detachment of approximately twelve hundred troopers; portions of the First, Fourth and Ninth Virginia, plus men from the Jeff Davis Legion. He didn't know the detachment's mission when Brigadier Stuart led the horsemen out of Richmond next day, riding his new charger, Star of the East. Stuart's escort had expanded. It now included a very special soldier named Sweeny. The former
minstrel-show performer had been stranded in Richmond at the start of the war. Stuart had maneuvered him out of another unit into his own because of Sweeny's talent on the banjo. Now the general had banjo accompaniment when he rode and sang. He also had conversation in a bastard combination of German and English. A few days before Seven Pines, he'd taken a flamboyant European dragoon into his retinue; Von Borcke, late of the Royal Prussian Army. The officer had run the blockade in order to join the Confederacy. Gideon looked smart in his gray uniform as he set out along the Brook Road behind the First Virginia's commander, Colonel Fitzhugh Lee. Colonel Lee permitted his men to decorate their hats much as the brigadier decorated his. Unable to afford an ostrich plume, Gideon settled for a pair of turkey feathers. He hated to leave Margaret in Richmond when the Yanks were closing in. But he had a job to do. The war had become that for him-a task, not a crusade. Still, three things buoyed his spirits as he rode. The first was a tiny lock of hair-more properly, down-snipped from the head of his daughter Eleanor. This he carried in his blouse pocket. The second was his horse. It was probably a stolen animal. It had certainly been outrageously overpriced by the trader with whom he'd arranged a confidential meeting near Camp Qui Vive last autumn. Nevertheless, The Titans631 Will-O'-The-Wisp was a splendid roan, and surely part thoroughbred. Gideon had written a letter to his father to tell him the smuggled bullion had enabled him to buy the horse. He'd paid an exorbitant price to an illegal courier, with no guarantee the letter would ever reach the New York Union's Washington office. He'd received no reply. The third thing that helped lift his spirits was a flag. It had been sent to him as a token of gratitude by Miss Wonderly of White House. Like the one she'd given I Rodney, she had sewn it herself immediately after the new and less confusing battle standard had been approved and adopted in November. The flag, half the regulation cavalry size, was brilliant red, with white stars on a blue St. Andrew's cross. Gideon carried it neatly folded over his belt near his revolver-a .44-caliber, pin-fire, ten-shot buck-and-ball Le Mat, French-made and mint new. That particular revolver was growing more and more popular with the Confederate soldiers who could afford to buy one. He'd used some of the gold to buy the revolver as a replacement for his Colts. He'd lost one during a hot skirmish at Drainesville in December. The other had been stolen from his tent a month later. The flag, the horse, the child-they were his talismans; the sum of his hope for survival and victory. He was confident they'd carry him through whatever lay ahead. As his father had predicted, the war was assuming near-unimaginable dimensions. In March the C. S. Virginia comthe captured Merrimack refitted-had dueled with a queer-looking Northern craft in Hampton Roads. Monitor and its Confederate counterpart belonged to a new breed of vessel everyone was talking about. Ironclads, they were called. Experts said the day of the wooden fighting ship had ended at Hampton Roads. 632Captain Kent, C.s.a. April had driven home the war's mounting human cost. Somewhere in Tennessee-Gideon had only the sketchiest understanding of the geography of the western theater-a gigantic battle centered near a place called Shilo Meeting House had resulted in casualties almost beyond the mind's capacity to comprehend. Over ten thousand were killed or lost on the Southern side; over thirteen thousand on the other. Gideon's father-in-law had mixed feelings about the battle. Willard Marble didn't know whether to grieve because a Confederate triumph the first day had become a disaster on the second, or to celebrate because his old protector, Uncle Sam Grant, now a Union general, had been instrumental in the battle's final outcome. Given two reasons to seek the bottle, the Sergeant indulged with a vengeance, and lay in a stupor for five days. Matt was involved in the war now. Fan's last letter from Lexington had enclosed another from her second son, together with a sketch of black men loading coal aboard a rakish-looking steamer. Matt had scribbled his letter and sketched the dock workers in Nassau, where his ship had put in to fill her holds before undertaking the" perilous voyage to Cape Fear. Matt's skipper was running the blockade. Despite the widening war, Gideon was in a good mood as the special cavalry detachment turned east from the Brook Road. It didn't take much imagination to guess they were going on a reconnaissance mission; probing the strength and strategic position of the Union army led by the general called Little Napoleon. Gideon was confident the mission would succeed. Stuart had proved himself a superior leader. And Gideon had his talismans. The fine horse. The brave flag. The precious lock of hair. The Titans633 Three days later-Sunday-when the jubilant Brigadier's troopers dashed back into Richmond after riding completely around McClellan's army, there was no roan named WU-LIKE-O'-The-WISP among the lathered horses. The regimental roster listed Captain Gideon Kent as missing in action. From Georgia ravaged by Sherman's horde to the raw railheads and cow towns of the frontier ... from the Western plains bloodied by the lances of the Indian wars to Eastern streets bloodied by the bombs of the labor struggle ... the Kents battle their own natures and each other, for control of the family's destiny in Warners Volume VI of The Kent Family Chronicles Afterword Researching The American Bicentennial Series would have been impossible without the help of the Dayton and Montgomery County Public Library, which is under the able direction of Mr. William Chait. When specialized questions have cropped up, his dedicated staff has always been ready to assist in digging for the answers-or to locate obscure but necessary reference works in other parts of the country. In preparing THE TITANS, I also received generous and invaluable assistance from The Virginia Historical Society, Richmond, and the Archives of the United States Military Academy, West Point. My wannest thanks go to all three institutions-though of course none is in any way responsible for errors of fact or interpretation that may have found their way into this book, or the Series. It was in a Boston bookshop during a promotion tour for THE SEEKERS that a reader first approached me with a family tree he had drawn up for the Kents. Since then I've seen quite a few others and heard of more. Frequent letters to the publisher have likewise requested a family tree covering the books to date. You will find one included in this volume. JOHN JAKES About the Author JOHN JAKES was born in Chicago. He is a graduate of DePauw University, and took his M.a. in literature at Ohio State. He sold his first short story during his second year of college, and his first book twelve months later. Since then he has published more than 200 short stories and over 50 books-chiefly suspense, nonfiction for young people and, most recently, science fiction. With the publication of The Furies, volume four of the Kent Family Chronicles, he became the first author in history to laryi three novels on the best-seller lists within a single year. The author is married, the father of four children, and lists among his organizations the Authors Guild, the Dramatists Guild, and Science Fiction Writers of America. In both 1976 and 1977 he was awarded honorary doctorates for his contribution to the Bicentennial observance. He says the most satisfying aspect of the phenomenal success of the Kent family novels is "the mail which reports that a reader has been motivated to seek out some good nonfiction in order to read about American history in greater detail. That kind of direct response is what writing is all about- and it makes all the hard work worthwhile."