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By Root 1228 0

no-man’s-land patrolled only by bandits, men Arnold knew as irregulars. André accepted his fate, rode out with Smith carrying a pass Arnold had provided him. He also carried documents from Arnold that were meant for the eyes of Henry Clinton. As Arnold rode back to his own headquarters, he fought through his fear, eased his mind by thoughts of Peggy, pictured her waiting for him at his headquarters. André would certainly make the journey, and he swept his fears away with a marvelous daydream. Yes, very soon, she will be on my arm, strolling through the galleries of the city. They will stand aside as we parade past them, admiring the beautiful Mrs. Arnold, holding proudly to the uniform of her husband, the celebrated British general . . .

46. WASHINGTON

SEPTEMBER 25, 1780

HE HAD NOT REACHED ARNOLD’S HEADQUARTERS IN TIME FOR THE evening meal, had sent his sincere regrets, advising Arnold instead that he would arrive for breakfast. Along the way, Knox had joined him, the artillery commander on his own mission to inspect the batteries that spread along the Hudson. The fortifications had not been tended to in a long while, and Washington had considered the pleasant social evening at West Point to be a lower priority than accompanying Knox to examine his guns.

The headquarters house was across the river from the fort itself and slightly downstream. It had been the home of Beverley Robinson, a prominent Tory who had escaped the wrath of his neighbors by fleeing to New York. Washington had not questioned the location, knew the house was well guarded by thick woods and tall, close hills. The house was a suitable mansion for such an important command, could accommodate a large staff as well as room for visitors.

As he rode into Arnold’s yard, he knew they were late yet again, Lafayette and Hamilton chiding him gently to speed up the inspections. The young men were clearly looking forward to the breakfast as much as he was. Washington was surprised by the lack of activity, the yard empty. He had expected a grand reception from the man who had been so very grateful for this influential command. But there was no concern, his mind occupied by the view of the wide river, the long sweeping vista that reminded him so much of Mount Vernon.

Hamilton had dismounted, and Washington still expected Arnold to emerge from the house. As Hamilton moved toward the entrance, Washington saw an officer appear, a small thin man, his hat in his hand. Hamilton spoke to the man, then both men moved across the yard toward him.

“Sir, this is Major David Franks, aide to General Arnold. The general was called away. Some business across the river.”

Franks moved closer now, seemed embarrassed.

“My apologies, General. General Arnold received a note, and left immediately. He said he would be at the fort, and requested you be rowed across. I am truly sorry, sir.”

Washington glanced toward the river, said, “No matter, Major. I should enjoy inspecting West Point as well.”

He left the officers behind, sat in the stern of the wide boat. The fort was a looming hulk of stone, gripping the stark rocky face like some huge claw. He examined the gray walls, the gun ports that lined the rocks, felt a pride, the sense of power. They will never strike here, he thought. Not even Clinton would be so arrogant to think he can sweep through this place.

The boat was pulled ashore, and Washington was surprised that no one was waiting for him. He saw the same surprise on the face of the sergeant, the man who commanded the oarsman.

“My apologies, sir. They don’t seem to have been expecting you. I’ll fetch a guard.”

The sergeant scrambled up the hill, and Washington heard shouts, a flurry of activity above him. He stepped out of the boat, climbed up over small round rocks, could see the guards, surprised men sliding quickly down the trail. He saw an officer now, recognized the man, John Lamb.

“Sir! My deepest apologies, sir! We were not informed of your arrival.”

He was growing weary of that word.

“Apology not necessary. Colonel Lamb, did not General Arnold inform