“We will see about that, Excellency.”
He had surprised himself by using the term of respect. After all, Washington had not been appointed a general by any sovereign state or any power he or his King recognized. And yet.
“There are men sleeping upstairs,” Washington said. “And many armed pickets around this house, as well as a watch on the roof. The best of my men. You will not get away.”
“They are all dead,” Rufus said. “As you will be if you fail to go quietly with us.”
Washington turned his head to regard Rufus. “Sir, if I must die in the defence of my country, my life will be forfeit in a noble cause, for this great nation will be independent of England, with or without me.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Black sensed motion. He snapped his head around to see Bear raise a pistol and point it at Washington.
“You deserve to die, you son of a dog. You’ve killed thousands in your unholy cause.”
Black instantly pointed his own pistol at Bear. But in that split second when time seems to slow to a crawl, he knew that the retort of the gun would wake the soldiers sleeping above. He grabbed the pistol by the barrel, imagined Bear’s ear the target on a shooting range and hurled it, hoping it wouldn’t go off. It didn’t, but flew true. Bear staggered back and dropped to the floor, unmoving.
Rufus looked to the others and said, “Get the pistol, restrain him and take him with you. Don’t release him until well after we’re gone.”
Suddenly, Bear rolled partly off the floor and again took aim at Washington. Black leapt, hurled himself on top of Bear, grabbed his head in both hands and smashed it violently against the floor, twice. He felt the body go limp.
Rufus looked down at Bear and said, “He wouldn’t actually have shot. You didn’t have to kill him.”
“Yes, he would have, and, yes, I did, assuming he is truly dead,” Black said. He instantly realized that attacking Bear had transferred the leadership of the mission to him. He also realized that getting the General back to the ship would entail keeping the man from being killed by someone else on the way there.
He turned to look again at Washington. During the melee, he had neither ducked nor moved. He remained standing behind his desk, as before. Black could see in his eyes that he had decided to let fate decide if he was to live or die.
“Sir,” Black said, “you are my prisoner. You have my word as an officer in His Majesty’s Service that if you cooperate no harm will come to you.” He paused. “If you try to flee we will shoot you.”
“I will cooperate, Colonel. Your forces clearly have the upper hand for the moment, and I don’t wish more of my men to die tonight needlessly. My thanks to you for saving my life.”
“You are welcome. Now we need to go. Rufus, put the document on the desk.”
Rufus unrolled the parchment he had prepared earlier and laid it down on the rosewood desk, anchoring it top and bottom with inkwells so that it lay open and prominent.
“May I know what it says?” Washington asked, pushing his reading glasses back up and squinting down. “I cannot read it from up here, even with these spectacles.”
Black pondered only a second. “Read it to him, Rufus.”
Rufus read aloud, “‘To the Continental Army. If you want your Commander back, you will find him in New York City. We will bargain with you for his release, the price of which is treating with me and our admiral in good faith to settle this rebellion.’ It is signed, ‘With my compliments, Major General William Clinton.’”
“Ah, so that is what this concerns,” Washington said.
Rufus walked up behind him and said, “Apologies, but I must gag you.” He paused for a split second and added, “Excellency.” He took a long cloth from a waistcoat pocket, twisted it through Washington’s mouth and tied it behind his head, then handed him a hat that he took from a hat rack on the wall. Rufus looked to Black.
“We need to go,” Black said again. “We’ve already tarried here too long.”
They marched the most famous man in the world out the back door and into the night. No one had stirred in the house. The dead soldier by the door was still dead.
12
As they walked across the field and left the house behind, the rain that Rufus had promised began. It brought with it a ground-hugging mist that blocked sight and muffled sound.
Washington walked just ahead of him, but Black could barely make out the General’s back. Three others walked immediately in front, with Rufus—just a shadow really—leading the way.
If ever the man were going to run for it, this was the time.
“Men,” Black said, “guard the prisoner close.”
Two of the three who’d been in front dropped back immediately, one on each side. It still did not seem adequate to him.
Shortly after they reached the woods, where the mist began to clear, they were joined by five more men—just as Rufus had promised—who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Each was wearing an American army uniform. They immediately reinforced the guard around Washington.
Black sighed in relief. His prisoner was not going to escape tonight, even though Black had chosen not to bind his hands, thinking that on the rough terrain, Washington might fall and would then have no way to catch himself. Bringing a dead or injured man back to London was not his plan. He also removed the gag, because the man seemed to be choking and gagging badly on it.
Rufus seemed to know a way back with fewer towns and led on without hesitation, despite the dark and the rain. As they walked, Washington said nothing, but slogged along with the rest of them. The trail was turning to mud, and their boots were soon covered with it, while their coats and hats dripped a steady stream of water. Washington had no coat, and Black could see that he had hunched his shoulders up against the cold.
Black stopped from time to time to try to listen, letting the others get a few yards ahead. He expected to hear pursuers—perhaps a shout or a shot—but all he heard was the rain. They marched for what seemed like hours, yet no one accosted them. Perhaps the ruse had worked.
They stopped a few times to eat and drink. The new men had brought hard tack, bread and beer. At one point, when they were sitting across from one another, Washington asked him, “Where are we really going?”
There was no reason now not to tell him. “To London.”
“To what end?”
“Your sovereign will have you tried for high treason.”
Washington paused a moment and said, “He is perhaps your sovereign, but he is no longer mine. He has forfeited the right. We made that clear in our declaration.”
Black had always been uncomfortable with political argument, and he didn’t wish to begin arguing now. He said only, “This is something you can argue in London, Excellency.”
“Assuming you get me there.”
“Yes, assuming that.”
He became aware that several of the men had clustered around them and had to have overheard the conversation. There was muttering and cursing amongst them. If they shared Bear’s views, there was nothing he would be able to do to stop them from killing the General and burying him in the woods. Or leaving him for the vultures.
Rufus had apparently much the same fear. He appeared out of the crowd and said, “We need to move on.”
They stopped that night at an abandoned barn, which had been stocked with food and drink, stacks of dry clothes and horses for all. Black admired the planning that had gone into the mission and wondered how many people were involved. The more there were, the more chance someone would sell them out.
Rufus approached him and said, “Despite the risk, I think we must build a fire, or we shall all die of consumption. Especially him.” He pointed at Washington, who had yet to remove his soaked clothes. “General,” he said, handing Washington some clothes, “these clothes are not wet.”
Washingto
n stared at them and said, “I will not replace the uniform of my country with these civilian rags.”
“You may catch your death of cold, Excellency,” Rufus said.
“Then so be it. I am prepared to die for my country here and now. Such a death might well be preferable to being taken to London. Others will carry on the glorious struggle without me. My own fate matters not.”
“If we build a fire, will you at least agree to sit by it?” Black asked.
Washington didn’t answer even though he was shivering.
They built the fire, and in the end Washington sat by it and dried out. He also accepted an overcoat that had been left for them. Black assumed his choice not to fall ill and to accept the coat meant that he was still of a mind to escape if he could.
He pointed out to Rufus that a more regulation way to guard the prisoner would be to gird him about with an inner circle of men, and then position the others at some distance in an outer circle. That way, if he managed to break free of the inner circle, he could still be quickly caught. Shortly after, Black saw that Rufus had repositioned the men as he had suggested.
The next day went better. The rain abated to an occasional drizzle and the temperature warmed a little. That second night, they slept in another old barn that someone had again presupplied with food, water and fresh horses. Earlier in the day, they also acquired two outriders, who rode ahead of them and came back from time to time to warn them of people on the road, whereupon they would ride a ways into the woods so as to not be seen. And if they were seen, well, they were most of them in American army uniforms, including Black, who had changed back.
Washington no longer looked ill and no longer shivered. He still said little, and responded to questions only in monosyllables. Attempts to engage him in conversation failed.
Black kept a close eye on him. On several occasions, when Washington thought no one was paying attention, Black caught him looking around intently, especially as they passed through or near a town. But he made no effort to bolt.
Towards the end of the second day, Black rode up next to Rufus, who was mounted that day on a horse that was tethered to Washington’s horse, and said, “Too many people now know about this. The outriders, the people who have supplied the barns for us, these guards.” He waved towards the men girding their prisoner.
“Perhaps. But there was no way to get this done without support.”
“You’re confident in these people to keep quiet?”
“For now. Once we have him on the ship and away, they will probably brag to people about their role.”
“Which would be at their peril.”
“Yes, and mine.”
Washington spoke for the first time that day. “Both your army and mine are riddled with spies. And people who talk. None of this is likely secret even at this moment. You will not get me on whatever ship you have brought without a fierce fight.”
“I think we will, Excellency.”
“I have thought about what this is all about,” he said. “I assume you are taking me to London, not to hang me, but to force a negotiation.”
“About what?” Black asked.
“About the offer of settlement that was made last year by a commission you sent to Philadelphia. Which was rejected out of hand, with my blessing.”
Black thought quickly. There was no point in telling him what he knew about Lord North’s actual plans. “I am of too lowly a rank for their plans to be shared with me,” he said. “I am simply to get you to London, and I will.”
Washington went quiet and seemed lost in thought as they rode along. Black assumed he had finished what he had to say. Finally, though, he said, “If you release me, I will promise you on my honour as a soldier and a gentleman that I will try to persuade the Continental Congress to treat with any peace delegation your country sends.”
Rufus broke in. “You have not the power to make that happen.”
“I can be persuasive. And your having captured me and then let me go will be taken as a sign of good faith.”
“I hear the Continental Congress does not trust you,” Rufus said. “And that many there dislike you and think you power hungry.”
Washington glowered at him. “You hear wrong.” The words had practically exploded out of his mouth. Perhaps the General wasn’t used to hearing such direct criticism.
Shortly after, they stopped for a break. Black left Washington on the horse, guarded by one of the soldiers, and beckoned Rufus to a small grove of trees where they could talk without being overheard. “I am surprised he has made no move to escape,” Black said.
“He’s probably biding his time till he sees a good opportunity.”
“Perhaps we should secure him further, Rufus. A boot on his leg, as the one Mary put on me?”
“No. For if we must at some point make a quick getaway on foot, he will be too much hobbled, whereas a gun at his back will move him along quite nicely.”
“Unless he wishes to die,” Black said.
“A man who has come this far in life and done what he has done will have no wish to die, to my thinking.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the crack of a gun and the sound of a ball thudding into a tree nearby.
13
The gunshot was close by, and the horses startled. Black reined his mount in hard to stop him from bolting. Before he could turn to see if anyone was to their rear—the shot sounded as if it had come from directly behind—Washington had managed to turn his horse and take off into the woods, in the apparent direction of the gunshot, yelling, “It’s General Washington! Give aid!”
Black gestured at the three men on horseback who had been surrounding Washington but had nonetheless let him escape. “Find the gunman. Take him alive if you can. Rufus and I will go after the General.”
As he said it, he plunged his horse into the woods, with Rufus close behind.
“Why didn’t you send the others after him?” Rufus asked.
“I don’t want him shot.”
“What’s your plan?”
“Follow the broken branches. He can’t have gone far. Or maybe he’ll shout out again.”
They continued to push through the trail of broken branches for many minutes, forcing them out of the way as they passed. Every few minutes they stopped to listen, but heard nothing. Then they heard more shots. Three of them. Almost at the same moment, they came upon Washington. He was still on his horse, but his coat was torn and his face was badly scratched. His progress had clearly been arrested by the steep bank of a stream that lay directly in front of him.
He turned and looked at them. “You have caught me, it appears.”
“Why did you try this?” Black asked. “You had little chance of success.”
“I am a soldier. It’s a soldier’s duty to try to escape, Colonel. My guards seemed distracted by the sudden gunshot. I thought it might have come from one of my own guard coming after me. I rode back from whence we came, towards where I thought they might be.”
“We’re going to ride back to the place we were,” Black said, “with one of us in front of you and one of us behind. If you flee again, I will find you again and shoot you.” Even as he said it, he realized that he probably wouldn’t, but he thought it worth saying.
“We should tie his hands,” Rufus said. “Or he will surely try again.”
“I don’t want to, for the same reasons as before. Maybe another way will work.” He turned to Washington. “Excellency, will you give me your word—as an officer and a gentleman—that you will not try to escape again? If you will do that, I will leave you untied and without a heavy boot on your leg.”
Washington thought a moment. “I will give you my word while we are here in America. If you manage to get me to London, I make no such pledge.”
“That will do for now.”
“I still don’t tru
st him,” Rufus said.
“It’s enough for me,” Black said.
They reversed their path through the branches, but heard no more gunshots. When they arrived at the clearing from which they’d started out, they helped Washington down from his horse. Just then the three men that Black had sent in pursuit of the gunman returned. There was a body slung sideways over one of the horses.
Black dismounted and walked over. It was Bear.
Two of the other men came over to the horse, hoisted Bear up and laid him on his back on the ground. Black could see that the man was close to finished. His breathing was laboured and raspy, and blood soaked his shirt. Black pulled Bear’s shirt from his belt, which revealed a gaping, bloody hole in his stomach.
“Why did you have to shoot him?” he asked. “We might have learned something from him about those who may be pursuing us.”
“There was no choice,” one of the men said. “It was him or one of us.”
Black said nothing in response. He had had enough experience of battle to know that if you weren’t there when it happened, you had no right to ask the details. Men did what they thought they had to do to live.
He bent down until he was almost in Bear’s face. “How long have you been following us?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. His voice was faint, almost impossible to hear.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I wasn’t.” His breath was coming harder.
“You should kill him,” Rufus said.
“Which way did the soldiers go to look for the General?”
“Most went towards New York.”
“What about the rest?”
Bear struggled to answer, but his body went suddenly limp, and only a rattle emerged. The first time Black had seen death take a man, he had been surprised that a rattle actually came out. Now he knew to expect it. He got up and said, “He’s gone.”
“There is something you should see,” one of the men said. He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out two leather helmets, each topped by a white feather plume, tipped in blue. On one of them, a small red feather had been stuck amidst the white ones. “These must have fallen from their heads, maybe taken off by overhanging branches, and were left behind in their haste to leave.”
The Trial and Execution of the Traitor George Washington Page 7
