The Trial and Execution of the Traitor George Washington

by Charles Rosenberg

  He told her, and when he was done, he heard her quietly crying. “I would comfort you if you would release me, Mary.”

  “I need not your comfort, and I dare not release you without someone else here because I don’t know whether to trust your story or not.” She got up and said, “It would be foolish for you to try to escape or make a sound.” She left the room.

  He tested the ropes that bound his hands and legs. They were still tight. Even if he could somehow loosen them, he would have little chance of getting away. The best thing he could do was to ride to Totowa with Mary—if she was really planning to go there—and somehow be rid of her on the way or just after he got there. Rufus had ridden ahead, so perhaps he would be there, too. And there were the fifteen Loyalists Dr. Stevens had promised would meet up with them.

  Minutes passed, and he heard only the faint chirping of the birds that begin to sing just before dawn. Perhaps Mary was simply gathering up a group to bury him.

  His increasingly morbid thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. The room was still mostly dark, but he could make out Mary and several men she had brought back with her. She carried a lit candle and he saw they were three of the six men who had been at dinner the night before. One man was a true giant, well over six feet tall and burly.

  “Bear,” Mary said, addressing the giant, “untie him. If he tries anything, hit him with this.” She handed the man a wooden cudgel. “I used it on him last night after the pie took him down but left him still stirring.”

  “What are we to do with him?” Bear asked.

  “We’ll go to Totowa, as Dr. Stevens planned. And meet up there with the others. If this man is who he says he is, we will need him.”

  “How do you know to trust him?” Bear asked.

  “We don’t, but Rufus is to be at an inn nearby, and he will tell us if this man is who he says he is since Rufus was to be at the beach.”

  Black said nothing. What would happen if Rufus failed to show up?

  Bear asked the same question, except out loud. “And if Rufus doesn’t come, Mary, then what?”

  “What would you have us do in that case?” Mary asked.

  “Kill him,” Bear said.

  Black had been listening to their discussion with mounting apprehension. The more they talked about him as if he were an object, the more danger he was in. He had also noticed that the other three men were clenching and unclenching their fists.

  Black decided to make himself part of the conversation. “There is also a question why I should trust you,” he said.

  “Yes, there is that,” Mary said. “But if neither of us can trust the other, you are the one tied up in the bed. If we kill you, we might eliminate the good to be gained from you, but we will also take away the risk.”

  “I will offer you something,” Black said. “I will tell you how Washington is to be gotten back to England—which beach is the pickup beach. Without that information, your whole venture on behalf of your king will be useless.”

  “Some of us are of the opinion,” Bear said, “that the rebellion will collapse if the General is shot dead. A trial in London of Washington might make our good King George smile, but it will do us no good here. So why kidnap him? It would be so much simpler to kill him. I would enjoy doing it with my own hands.”

  “And some of us are of a different opinion,” Mary said.

  “And what opinion is that?” Bear asked.

  “That the authorities in London know what they are about, and that putting Washington on trial there for treason will bring the rebels to bargain for a settlement. Then Loyalists like us can live in peace, and with our properties intact.”

  Black interrupted. “I have spoken of this very thing with Lord North himself,” he said. Which was a lie because Lord North had mentioned no such thing to him. But it seemed the right thing to say.

  Mary, who had been facing Bear, whirled and looked hard at him. “You met with the First Minister?”

  “Yes. It is he who gave me my direct orders. And while there is disagreement in the government over whether Washington is more help to us dead or on trial, or whether his absence from the rebellion will make any difference at all, the King wants to see him tried—and watch him suffer a traitor’s death. You are all loyal subjects of the Crown and should do as your king commands. As I am doing.”

  No one said anything. As he waited for someone to speak, Black knew that his invocation of the King might be thought false in itself. What proof did he have that he had met with Lord North? To these people he might as well have said that he’d met with Moses.

  Finally, Mary said to Bear, “Untie him, but keep a close eye on him, and search him for small knives and any orders he may carry.”

  Once his hands were freed, she turned to Black and said, “One false move and we will kill you.” Hardly had she finished speaking than she began to weep, and he heard her say aloud, amidst copious tears, “All this killing. So many friends, and now my husband, too. What will end this war?”

  9

  They rode out at dawn—Black, Mary, Bear and the two other men, who’d yet to identify themselves by name. Bear carried a long gun, and he assumed the others carried hidden knives or pistols. Before they mounted, Bear had clamped a heavy brass ring around his right ankle and pulled his legging over it to conceal it, which it did poorly. “You won’t be able to run far with that,” he had said. “And if you try, I will catch you and carve you up.”

  They’d given him the horse he’d ridden in on the day before, which seemed refreshed. His saddlebags had been put back in place, although he didn’t know if any of their contents had been restored. He assumed the money was gone. And Mary had the knife.

  For the first little while, they rode in silence, passing people on foot, two or three people on horseback and a few small carts bumping over the ruts, all heading the other way. Mary rode beside him, with the others trailing behind. Finally, he said, “Why is everyone else going the other way?”

  “It’s a market day in town.”

  “How long a ride between here and Totowa?”

  “Likely three days of riding if we make good progress without interruption, to a town a few miles short of Totowa itself. Beyond that town, we will be challenged.”

  “What could interrupt us, Mary?”

  “Soldiers of Washington’s Life Guard riding the countryside on patrol to see what is what.”

  “How will I know if we come upon them?”

  “They have an arrogance about them hard to miss. Most wear tall leather or bearskin helmets with a white feather plume tipped in blue. Always on the left. They might as well be guarding a king.”

  No sooner had she finished speaking than a soldier in an American uniform approached on foot and caught his eye. Black stiffened, but the man merely saluted. Black returned the salute, and the man walked on.

  “Where do you think that soldier is heading, Mary?”

  “Probably to break into a farm to steal chickens. Washington’s army is ill fed, and the soldiers pillage what they need. Usually at night, though, so perhaps he has a different mission today.”

  “That cannot build loyalty from local folks.”

  “It’s why so many hereabouts, while they shout loyalty to the rebel cause, pine, in this fifth year of war, for the British to return.”

  “If the soldiers pillage, then the army is not well led.”

  “Have you ever led hungry men?”

  “No. But what is the opinion of people here about Washington? The papers in England say he is a great leader, and that he is indispensable to the cause. The most famous person in the world, some call him.”

  She paused for a moment, then said, “Others are of the opinion that he just looks good on a horse.”

  Black laughed. “Surely there is more to it than that.”

  “We shall
see,” she said, “how he leads from the Tower when he is in London and how indispensable he is there.”

  “Tell me about Washington’s Life Guard,” he said. “In England, they told me this guard is more than two hundred men, each one strong and loyal.”

  “That is so, but not all are there at once, and they are now more relaxed because they are further from British lines than where Washington was headquartered before, and they have high hills surrounding them.”

  “Who is their commander?”

  “We are in luck there because their Captain-Commandant, William Colfax, is on leave to see his ailing son. His second-in-command is also away, and so they are left with Rufus Gilbert in charge for the moment. He is a less careful man. And tends to the drink.”

  “How do you know all this, Mary?”

  She turned, looked at him and shrugged. “Spies. There are spies everywhere in this war. On both sides, and sometimes on both sides at the same time.”

  “Everyone thinks you a Patriot?”

  “I hope so. Certainly, we attend all of the Patriot town meetings and such.”

  “How did you know that I was not a Patriot soldier?”

  “It is in part the way you carry yourself. The way you move. You are clearly not from here or anywhere even close to here.”

  “Then I must, perhaps, learn to carry myself otherwise.”

  “Perhaps. But I also had a sense of you as foreign. You came as if from nowhere, and you were carrying too much money for a mere soldier on leave. And you didn’t even know what to call the paper bills.” She laughed.

  “Is that all?” He smiled in a way to try to make light of it. But she had named too many things that set him apart. He would have to be even more on guard about it. And maybe try to say even less.

  “No, that was not all,” she said. “I also knew my husband was to meet a man at the beach and bring him back.”

  “I see.”

  They rode on in silence for a while after that, and she asked, “Do you think there is any chance that my husband survived his wounds?”

  He thought for a moment how to answer, for he didn’t want to give her false hope. Finally, he said, “I fear to say I think it unlikely.”

  She said nothing, and after a few moments, he said, “Do you have children, Mary?”

  “I had three,” she said. “They all died before the age of two. I blame it on this war. My milk did not come in, and wet nurses were hard to find. And, well, it doesn’t matter now.”

  “How old are you, Mary?”

  “Twenty-nine.”

  “You look much younger.”

  “So I am oft told.”

  They rode on for a while in silence until he felt it grow awkward. Mary must have, too, because she said, “I need to find a way for a few moments not to think of my husband. Tell me some about yourself.”

  “What is it you wish to know?”

  “Are you married?”

  “No.”

  “That surprises.” She turned her head and smiled at him. “There must be many a woman back in England who would find you handsome, with your dark hair and blue eyes.”

  Black felt himself blushing. “There may be a few, but much of my life as a soldier has been spent away from England, on the Continent, and I have not thought it right to visit my many absences upon a wife. Perhaps when this mission is over.”

  “That is another thing I have wondered. How came you to this thing?”

  “When I first became an officer, there was a mission that needed a lieutenant who was both fast of foot and strong. I am indeed fast, and even though short, very strong.”

  “I saw that when, even after eating my pie, you struggled to get up, and I had to push you back down.”

  He rubbed the back of his head, which was still sore. “And then hit me with a club of some sort.”

  “No, rather with a large book.”

  He expected her to apologize, but she did not.

  “And so you now are chosen often for duties of this sort?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  They rode on again in silence. Finally, she made a motion with her hand towards the rear and dropped back, quickly replaced by Bear, who gave him a curt nod but did not utter a word.

  A sense of foreboding suddenly descended on him. Lord North’s aide had told him that he would meet up with a group that had made the detailed plans that were needed. His task would be only to arrest Washington and get him back to the waiting ship. Instead he found himself with a group of people who might be Loyalists or might just be taking him to Totowa to turn him in, collect reward money and stay to see him hanged.

  Bear had apparently been thinking, too, because, after a while, he said, “I have been thinking on how to know if you be true or false.”

  “And?”

  “With Dr. Stevens dead, there is no sure way to know. And Rufus, if he has survived, is still days ahead of us.”

  “He can identify me then.”

  “Yes, unless you are false, in which case, you may be leading Rufus and the rest of us to our doom—for the rebels to hang all in a row.”

  Suddenly, Black saw, cantering towards them, a soldier sitting tall in the saddle and wearing the helmet Mary had described—dark leather with, on the left side, a white feather plume tipped in blue. The man pulled up sharply only a few feet in front of them, causing their own horses to rear up. Three other soldiers on horseback were close behind the first, but hung back a few feet. They were all big men, dressed identically, and indistinguishable except for the leader, who had a vivid red scar across his cheek. Unlike the others, he also had a small red feather stuck amidst the white ones in his plume.

  When the horses had settled, the man with the scar looked at Black and said, “Who are you, soldier, and what is your business in these parts?”

  “I am Jeremiah Black. I have been on leave from the 1st Pennsylvania to visit my dying mother. I am on my way back to my unit.”

  “And who are these people with you?”

  “Owners and friends of an inn at which I stayed last night. They were riding the same way as I, and we chose to ride together.”

  “That is a nice story,” the soldier said.

  “It was also for companionship. And for me, so I can push my mother’s death out of my mind.”

  The man squinched his eyes up, as if weighing the tale. He appeared to be unarmed, but the three men behind him all had their hands on their sword hilts. Black feared the soldier questioning him would notice the bulge of the brass ring beneath his leggings, but the man kept his focus on his face.

  “Let me see your orders,” he said.

  Black didn’t know if Mary had left his fake orders in his saddlebags. There was nothing but to try it. He reached down, found with relief that they were there and pulled them out. “Here,” he said.

  The man made a show of examining the papers, turning his head this way and that as if trying to judge their authenticity. He finally handed them back and said, “They appear genuine. But you are approaching the territory we protect for the safety of His Excellency, General Washington, and his staff.”

  “I did not know,” Black said. “I am sorry.”

  “Good. If after tomorrow we see you anywhere other than on the direct route back to your unit, we will have cause to detain you and investigate this further.”

  Without a word of goodbye, he turned and rode off, followed by the other three. When they had gotten perhaps twenty feet away, the leader turned briefly to stare back at Black, as if to fix his face in his memory.

  After they had left, Black said, “Why does the man with the scar on his cheek have a red feather in his plume, whereas the others do not?”

  “I don’t know,” Mary said. “A sign of leadership, maybe. Or he’s just a dandy and they permit it.”

  “Bear,
have you ever seen a red feather like that before?” Black asked.

  “Never.”

  “I have an uneasy feeling about this,” Black said. “Because if we come upon those four again, we will be even closer to Washington’s headquarters, and we will look even more suspicious. My soldier-on-leave story will no longer persuade them.”

  “What do you suggest?” Bear asked.

  “Try to kill them if we can.” He paused. “Mary, please give me the knife back.”

  Without a word, she handed it to him.

  10

  The following days of travel proved uneventful. The first night, Black, Mary and Bear—the other two had disappeared before nightfall, and he got no answer as to where they had gone—stayed at an inn called The Crow, where no one paid them much notice. In the morning Bear paid the bill, explaining to the innkeeper that Black was his cousin and telling the usual story. The second night, they stayed in a barn, because there were not many towns and even fewer inns.

  As the next day dawned, they rode out of the barn, saying almost nothing to one another. The road, which had now deteriorated from a rutted cart track into a narrow trail, passed through deep woods. They were challenged twice by roving patrols, all wearing the blue-tipped, white-feathered cockade of Washington’s personal guard. They did not run into the original patrol again, and Black’s papers, which were given only a cursory look, seemed to pass muster without problem even though they were not truly on a path back to the lines of the 1st Pennsylvania.

  As they rode away from the second patrol, Bear said, “Whoever forged those orders did a good job.”

  “It was my husband,” Mary said. “May he rest in peace.”

  “Amen,” they all said in almost the same breath, then rode on again in silence. Black could hear Mary crying quietly to herself. He wished again that there was a way to comfort her.

  At the end of that day, they stopped at The Tankard, a run-down place with a mug of ale stencilled on a faded wooden sign that hung above the front door. A crudely lettered wooden plank nailed to the gate said, “Closed.” Mary ignored it and pushed through. They rode their horses around to the back and left them inside a tumbledown barn, inside of which someone had left fresh hay and water.