The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [185]
“Mr. Tilghman?”
“Sir?”
“Summon Mr. Lafayette.”
He sat back in the chair, stared at the window, could see the row of cabins across the open ground, the housing for his guards. The ground was cut by deep trails, winding through the hard mounds of snowdrifts, dirty snow flattened by the boots of his men. The mood of the camp had been brightened by several days of sunshine, an icy blue sky that caused snow blindness for many of the lookouts, the men whose reddened eyes still suffered from the smoke of their cabins. But the blue sky was gone now, swept away by a blanket of dull gray. He stared above the hill behind the guard cabins, thought, There will be snow again, certainly. He would not focus anymore on the letter still in his hand, the official dispatch from the Board of War, had read it too many times already. He heard sounds now, saw Lafayette in the doorway. The young man said, “You require my presence, sir?”
Washington pointed to a chair, and Lafayette sat quickly.
“You have received orders.”
He handed Lafayette the paper, who read slowly then looked at Washington, questioning, the young man’s usual smile replaced by uncertainty.
“What is this, sir? I am to go to . . .”
“Canada. The Board of War has been busy. They seem to believe that an attack against Governor Carleton’s outposts will bring the Canadian people to our side. They are assuming that a Frenchman in command of the force would inspire the French Canadians to join your effort.”
Lafayette scanned the paper again.
“Did you know of this, sir?”
“Read the last bit, the bottom of the page.”
The Board will be happy on this, as well as every other occasion, to receive your opinion and advice.
“They did not consult me, and despite their graciousness, I am confident that my opinion would likely be ignored. I am pleased on one account, however. If this mission is to succeed, I know of no other officer who I would rather see in your stead.”
Lafayette seemed unconvinced, said, “This states that General Conway is to be my second. Am I to be grateful for that?”
“There is more to that than you are reading, Mr. Lafayette. Mr. Conway has no doubt campaigned for this mission, for the purpose of keeping an eye on you. I caution you to expect some pressure from the Board themselves, and from Mr. Gates in particular. You would be a formidable ally to their efforts at removing me from command. They will test you, I am quite certain.”
“This is madness, sir! A mission to Canada, while it is still winter? I am to . . . journey to Albany, and assume command of the forces waiting me there. What forces? How could this mission be arranged and communicated to such a distance without you knowing of it?”
Washington shrugged.
“These are questions that can only be answered when your mission has commenced. Take good care, Mr. Lafayette. If you are successful, then all of America will salute your conquest of Canada. If you are not . . . then you will return to me. Either way, this nation has the advantage.”
FEBRUARY 12, 1778
The guards were becoming accustomed to visitors, carriages heavy with well-dressed men, mostly from congress. Many were responding to Washington’s complaints with a skeptical eye, would visit Valley Forge to see for themselves why the commanding general had become so annoyingly insistent with his tirades against their presumed neglect. The guards barely noticed them now, a cursory glance, even the officers waving the visitors casually through the outpost. With the visitors past, the guards would make their crude jokes, inspired not by humor, but by bitterness. A congressman would expect a reception, a formal dinner at least, and by now even the foot soldiers knew that Washington was doing all he could to conserve the precious food around headquarters. He must surely dread these visits from the aristocratic prigs in York, who seemed to regard these outings as some winter holiday, a vacation at the expense of the army that protected them.
It had been a quiet afternoon, the men huddled around a shallow pit in the