At Some Disputed Barricade_ A Novel - Anne Perry [47]
Northrup looked like a man who had won a bitter victory, exhausted but justified.
“Captain Reavley,” Hook began miserably, “General Northrup informs me that there is considerable talk among the men that his son, Major Howard Northrup, did not die as a result of enemy fire.”
Northrup shifted his weight in the chair impatiently, but he did not yet interrupt.
Hook was aware of it. “If that is so, of course,” he went on, “then it is an extremely grave matter….”
Northrup could not contain himself any longer. “It is more than grave, Colonel Hook,” he cut across him. “It is murder, plain and simple. It means you have men who under ordinary law are guilty of the most terrible of all crimes, and under military law are also guilty of mutiny, and must face a firing squad.”
Hook kept his courtesy with a very obvious effort. He remained looking at Joseph, as if desperate for his help. “If that is so,” he continued, “then it is, as General Northrup says, a capital crime. I can’t imagine why any of our men would do such a thing.” He spoke carefully, enunciating every word. “Major Northrup had been here only a matter of a week or two. I can’t think how he could have made an enemy of that depth in so short a time.”
“Of course he didn’t!” Northrup snapped. “Your men are out of control! On the verge of mutiny. Major Northrup exerted some discipline, perhaps for the first time, and they resented it. Or possibly there was mutiny planned, and he discovered it, and would naturally have had them arrested and shot. Have you considered that? It is a perfectly obvious motive. A child could understand it.” His eyes were watery and he blinked several times.
“Even a child would require that you prove such a thing before exacting punishment,” Hook told him, then turned back to Joseph. “Captain, I regret the necessity for this, most particularly now in the middle of one of the hardest offensives we’ve ever experienced, but I have no alternative other than to investigate the possibility of a crime, even though I do not believe it to be so.”
Joseph understood exactly what Hook was saying. Everything about it was bad. Even the suggestion of such a crime would damage morale irreparably. It was already fragile with the appalling losses, the failure to make any significant gain of land, the disastrous weather, the whispers of mutiny among the French troops—even if there was very little real evidence. Even though at least outwardly the men condemned the idea of mutiny, inwardly they had a profound natural sympathy.
And the additional tragedy was that in Northrup’s efforts to avenge his son’s death and protect his reputation, he was actually going to expose him far more. Now only his own immediate men knew he was incompetent. Soon his name would go down in history as having provoked a murder among the very men he led, murder in order to save their own lives from his stupidity. Joseph knew there was a pity in Hook that wanted to rescue Northrup from himself.
“Yes, sir,” he said aloud. “I can see that such rumors, however untrue, must be investigated and silenced, one way or the other.”
“One way or the other?” Northrup challenged him sharply, swiveling in his chair to face him. “There is only one way, Captain Reavley, and that is with the truth, and the justice that comes from it.”
“I meant, sir, whether there is any charge resulting from what we find, or if it is no more than careless talk,” Joseph corrected him. “I’ve heard nothing more than the usual grumbling and bad jokes. The men always complain, usually about petty things. It’s a way of making it bearable.”
“I am perfectly acquainted with front line humor, Captain,” Northrup said bitterly. “It does not extend to blackening the name of a dead officer.”
Hook drew in his breath, but Joseph preempted him. He looked at the general. “What are they saying of Major Northrup that is more than the usual complaints that fly around of any officer, sir?”
Northrup’s face was bright pink, his cheeks burning. “That he was an incompetent officer and gave