The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [210]
MAY 20, 1778
The reception was as Knox described it, officers and guards lining the road in a grand reception line. Greene had watched carefully as Lee approached, looked for some hint of the man’s response to this extraordinary show of respect. Washington made the first salute, and Greene saw Lee’s curt unsmiling bow to the commander. In his turn, Greene had offered his polite greeting, Lee responding by barely looking at him, moving on quickly to Sullivan, who was next in line. Greene stared straight ahead, the polite show of decorum, could do nothing now but wait for the ceremony to conclude. He was suddenly curious, looked down the line as Lee was introduced to Lafayette. The young Frenchman held out a hand, met Lee with a wide pleasant smile, and Greene winced as Lee ignored the man’s hand, responded with silence, a frowning tilt of his head. Lafayette seemed not to notice, discreetly dropped his hand to his side, the smile still in place. Greene felt a hard knot growing in his gut, thought, You cannot even make a show of it? You cannot even offer some small bit of manners?
The introductions and greetings were finally complete, and Greene was relieved when Washington gave the order, the procession falling into line in the road. As they began to move, he took his place in line, saw that he was close behind Lee. He could not avoid looking at the man’s uniform, saw that the coat was somewhat cleaner than he had ever seen it before. Probably the British, he thought. Dress him up for a fine appearance. They can’t have us think they were mistreating him. I wonder if they removed the coat before they cleaned it, or just threw him entirely into New York Harbor.
He tried to control the horse, the animal stepping carefully, nervously, as Lee’s dogs bounded back and forth in the road. Greene knew nothing of dogs, saw only barking masses of fur, thought, Are these the same ones he’s always had? How did the British regard them? His horse lurched suddenly to one side, and Greene saw one of the dogs nipping at the horse’s leg.
“Be gone! Away!”
The shout broke the quiet solemnity of the parade, and Lee turned, stared sharply at him. Greene returned the look, then forced a smile, said, “My apologies, General. My horse is not accustomed to being bitten.”
Lee said nothing, turned away, and Greene felt a hard gloom coming over him. He glanced up ahead, could see the guard posts flanking the road, Washington leading the officers back into the camp, the parade coming to a blessed end.
THE DINNER HAD BEEN A SUBDUED AFFAIR, AND WHEN THE PLATES were cleared Martha had not called them to the hearth for her usual round of songs. The talk had come mostly from Lee, stories of his captivity, of the fairness and generosity of his hosts, far too many details of the glorious British dinner tables. Greene had kept to his manners, inspired by the pleasant smile from Martha Washington. It was not a time for debate or disagreement, and though Lee’s anecdotes were not always in the best taste, Martha had endured without comment. By the end of the evening, Greene’s patience was a thin taut wire, nearly broken when Lee summoned his dogs to take their places beside him, both animals eating their dinner directly from the table, making short work of the food Lee had provided from his plate. Even Martha had been bothered by that and, surprisingly, Lee had noticed, but there was no apology, the man offering only an abrupt comment about his preference for dogs over human company. It was a concluding note to an uncomfortable gathering, and Greene had whisked Kitty away to their quarters without uttering a word.
MAY 21, 1778
As he had driven Kitty home, he had seen the rider, had realized it was John Laurens. The young man