The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [284]
Washington scanned the papers, could see details of troop numbers and placements. There was one other note, written in a different hand, a flourish of lines and swirls, the hand of a man with a talent for writing. It was a lengthy request for leniency, a strange explanation of deeds not detailed. Washington scanned down, more of the same, wordy explanations why the man should not be considered a spy. And then, one line caught his eye:
The person in your possession is Major John André, Adjutant General of the British Army.
The hall was filled with motion now, and Washington saw Lafayette buttoning his shirt, looking curiously at the papers on the bed.
“I was preparing for dinner, sir . . .”
“Is there still no sign of General Arnold?”
“No, sir.”
“Then it seems we have been betrayed.” He shouted, “Mr. Hamilton!”
“Sir!”
Ride quickly down the river, go to the King’s Ferry outpost. Determine if they have observed the passing of General Arnold’s boat. If not, make every effort to apprehend it.”
“Apprehend . . . General Arnold, sir?”
“Now, Mr. Hamilton!”
His hands were shaking, and he scanned the papers again, saw a page with familiar words, realized they were his own, notes from a meeting with Arnold a few weeks before. He felt a swirling fever of anger, a hard black fist coiling up in his brain. He looked up at Lafayette, said in a low growl, “We must make every determination of the damage this has caused. But first, I should like to see Mrs. Arnold.”
HE KNOCKED, HEARD NOTHING, HAD NO TIME FOR MANNERS. HE pushed the door open, saw her curled up on the bed, holding tightly to her infant child. He had not expected to see the baby, had forgotten entirely that she had given birth. She looked at him with hard, wild eyes, and he said, “Mrs. Arnold . . . Peggy. Do you know where your husband has gone?”
“He cannot protect me! He is gone!”
She began to cry, heavy sobs, holding the baby close to her chest, the baby now crying as well. Washington felt suddenly helpless, and behind him, Arnold’s aide was there, said in a soft voice, “Mrs. Arnold, it is General Washington. He will protect you.”
“No! It is not General Washington! He is here to kill my baby!” she screamed, sat up in the bed, backed away from him, staring wild-eyed, the picture of utter madness. The baby was in her lap now, and he could see she was wearing only a dressing gown, the thin material now pulled askew. He turned his head, embarrassed at her immodesty, and she stopped crying, said, “Yes! You are the one! My husband cannot protect me from you! He suffers so! They have put hot irons on his head!”
She crawled toward him across the bed, her gown falling open completely, and he backed away, felt the door behind him, said, “Mrs. Arnold, I am not here to kill your baby. Please.”
She began to cry again, and Washington backed out of the room, stood in the hall, saw Lafayette staring past him, wide-eyed, and Lafayette said, “My God. Poor suffering child.”
Arnold’s aide moved again into the room, the soothing words again. Washington felt a hot twisting in his stomach, moved down the narrow stairs. He saw Franks, said, “Major, what transpired this morning?”
“Sir?”
“You said General Arnold received a note from Colonel Lamb?”
“Um, well, yes, sir. We assumed it was Colonel Lamb. The general did not reveal the contents. He received the note, then returned to his room. He spoke to his wife, then . . . called for his boat.”
He heard hoofbeats, and Franks opened the front door, said, “Major Hamilton has returned, sir.”
Washington pushed through the door, saw Hamilton halting his horse, the young man jumping down. Hamilton ran toward him, said, “Sir! We encountered a courier from King’s Ferry! General Arnold was observed down the river, but he has gone, sir. The lookouts report that he was seen boarding a British ship . . . the Vulture, sir.”
Washington stared out to the river, said, “At least he had the decency to say good-bye to his wife.”
OCTOBER 2, 1780
Word had traveled quickly, and Washington began to receive entreaties