The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [98]
“Rest your bones, gentlemen. This journey is not yet over. We will be moving out in the morning. I suggest you find something to eat.”
He could hear small moans, had no patience for complaining, stepped gingerly toward the headquarters, sharp pains in both hips. The doorway was alive with firelight, and he thought of food, but there were no smells, the evening meal long past. He straightened himself, waited for the stoic guards to open the door. The bagpipes behind him were drowned out by music of a different kind now, from inside the headquarters. He could hear a violin and bad singing, and not all of it from men. He stepped inside, was surprised at the festive mood, men around a table, several bottles emptied, a group of brightly dressed women gathered around a pair of musicians. The music stopped, and the voices grew quiet, and he brushed at the dust on his disheveled uniform, was in no mood for pleasantries. He saw Grant, the older man sitting tall in a chair, looking at him with a strained smile. Grant suddenly rose, said, “Ah, General Cornwallis, welcome. Forgive me, sir, but you appear to be in need of a rather stiff beverage.”
Cornwallis felt his weariness giving way to annoyance.
“No, General Grant, I do not require any beverage.” The word came out of him with a spitting hiss. “I did not expect to find a party. It is certainly not in my honor. Whose honor might it be? A memorial for Colonel Rall perhaps? General de Heister? Or perhaps you would have us salute the man who brought so many of us back out here? Would that be General Washington?” There was complete silence, and he saw Grant’s expression change, regretted his outburst, No, there is no need to shame the man.
Grant motioned to the women.
“Ladies, you will excuse us. The musicians may leave.”
There were disappointed protests from the women, but they obeyed, and the dresses swirled past Cornwallis, a cloud of perfume engulfing him. Grant waited for the room to clear.
“General, if you feel it is appropriate, then I offer my apologies. This may seem to be a party, only because there has been a considerable brightening of spirit in this camp. Over the past two days, the arrival of the reinforcements has brought a new vigor to these proceedings. Not a man here fails to see that there will be a considerable and inevitable turnabout, a glorious reversal in the affairs of this past week.”
It was the speech of a man accustomed to giving speeches. Cornwallis looked around the room, familiar faces all, Leslie giving him a small self-conscious nod. He moved to a chair, sat slowly, a stab of pain in his back, blinked hard, fought the dust in his eyes, said, “I have had an exceptionally tiresome day. It would not be prudent of any one of you to ask my particular view toward the affairs of this past week.”
He could see Grant deflate now, and the man seemed to slump as he sat. Cornwallis thought, No, do not worry, General, I did not come here to censure you. “Do we know the disposition and strength of the rebel forces? Where exactly is Mr. Washington?”
No one spoke, and he could see faces turning toward Grant. Cornwallis wiped at his face with dirty gloves, said, “Do you have a report for me, General Grant?”
“I can only relate to you what our scouts have determined, sir. The rebels have occupied Trenton and seem content to remain there. They have made forays toward our position, capturing a miniscule amount of supplies, wagons and whatnot, but of no consequence. I do not know, precisely, where Mr. Washington may be found.”
Cornwallis heard the familiar tone in Grant’s voice, the arrogant dismissal of Washington, thought, Hardly the time, General. He felt a cavernous hole in his stomach, the exhaustion of the day blossoming into an overwhelming desire for a simple plate of bread and meat.
“I require some rest, gentlemen, thus I will be brief. Tomorrow morning, this army will advance in column toward Trenton. We will confront whatever defensive position