“Please don’t walk so heavily, sir,” Bell repeated looking back at the messenger. Bell and Powell were but half way up the stairs when Fred Seward, the Assistant Secretary of State, appeared on the landing at the top of the stairs.
“Who are you and what do you want?” He demanded of the stranger walking up the stairs.
“I done tol’ him he couldn’t go up, Mr. Seward,” William Bell said to the younger Seward from the stairs.
“I’ve just come from Dr. Verdi and‘ve been instructed to give this medicine myself to Secretary Seward,” Powell answered and held up the box in his hand to demonstrate the veracity of his assignment.
“My father is asleep and you will not wake him. You know how injured he is. Give me the medicine and I will give it to him in the morning,” Fred said standing in front of Powell, who had slowly come up the stairs and now stood on the landing with the younger Seward. The Confederate stood taller than Seward and still wore his hat.
“Dr. Verdi will be very angry with me if I don’t give him the medicine myself,” Powell insisted. Fred was growing impatient with the stubborn refusal of the man to hand over the medicine. He began to tell him to simply leave when the door behind him opened and Fanny stuck her head out from behind the door.
“Is everything okay, Freddie?” She asked brightly and looked from her brother to the stranger standing on the landing. She assumed that he was a messenger from the State Department or the Executive Mansion. “Father is awake now if this man has a message for Father.” She looked hopefully at her brother who cast her a look of frustration. She realized that she had said the wrong thing and then wondered who this stranger was in their house. She looked back inside the door at her father and saw that he was settling back to sleep already.
“My father is not taking visitors at this time of night so either give me the medicine or leave and bring it back in the morning,” Freddie said with a note of finality. His tone was curt and officious, but he had grown exasperated. Powell simply ignored the son.
“Is the Secretary asleep or not?” He asked Fanny directly. She ducked her head back inside the room and looked back at her father. She poked her head back out.
“Almost,” she responded. And before Powell had a chance to respond to Fanny, Frederick Seward stepped over and closed the door on her and her father. She thought it very odd and quietly walked back and took her seat at the foot of her father’s bed. “A messenger or somebody is outside and Freddie is sending him away,” she whispered to Sergeant George Robinson, a soldier who served double duty as the Secretary of State’s guard and nurse.
Outside on the landing, Freddie had turned back to Powell and his face was growing flush with anger. Powell calmly returned the look. Fanny Seward had unwittingly given him the critical piece of information that he needed. William Seward was in the very room that was behind the door that was right in front of him!
“Sir, I am the proprietor of this house and the Secretary’s son. You can either give me the medicine or you can leave.” Powell looked blankly at Frederick Seward and then to the door behind which lay the man he was trying to kill. Seward was finally exasperated. “Please leave the house and come back tomorrow. I can assure you that I’ll be talking with Dr. Verdi first thing in the morning. Your behavior is disruptive to this household and it is simply unacceptable.” As he spoke, Freddie walked towards the stairs and Powell took his cue and turned to leave. The soldier took one step down the stairs and then spun back around and leveled his cocked Colt Navy at Seward’s face. Seward, stunned at the sight of the gun in his face, blinked once. Powell pulled the trigger and the gun misfired. Without any hesitation, the war veteran stepped up to the landing while raising his hand high in the air and slammed the butt of the revolver down onto Fred Seward’s head. The blow caught the man unawares and split his scalp open and sent blood spraying onto Powell and the walls of the hallway. The blow had dazed Freddie. Powell attempted to hit Seward again with the gun. The young Seward had instinctively brought his hands up and blocked the blow, but Powell was so strong that he knocked Freddie off balance. He brought his hands down to regain his balance and keep from toppling down the stairs. Powell saw his opportunity and hit him with the butt of the gun with all of his strength. He struck Seward so hard that he cracked the man’s skull, sending blood and bone fragments spraying onto the wall of the stairway.
Powell became a man possessed and struck at Seward repeatedly, hitting him with the muzzle, barrel, and butt of the gun. The Assistant Secretary’s scalp was beaten to a pulp and blood poured freely down his face and neck. Powell struck Seward so fiercely that it broke the loading lever of the gun and jammed it into one of the chambers. Seward was only able to parry one or two of the blows raining down on him so he was on the brink of unconsciousness. Finally Powell stopped, breathing heavily, and watched as Seward fell backwards with a thud. The man lay on his back, his head resting at the top of the stairway. The blood, already pooling on the landing, began to trickle over the edge of the top step.
Powell glanced down the stairway at William Bell who still stood frozen on the stairs, dazed at the vicious beating he just witnessed. When he realized that Powell was looking at him, his eyes widened and he bolted out of the front door. He flung it open and ran into the night screaming “Murder!” at the top of his lungs. He ran away, looking for help from General Auger’s headquarters down the street.
Powell turned away from the son and quickly strode to the door to go after the father. As he reached for the door, it opened and Fanny Seward stood there with a uniformed soldier behind her. Powell instantly sized the situation up and knew he had to get to the soldier first. He pointed the gun at the soldier and tried to cock the pistol but found it was jammed beyond use. As the soldier ran towards him, he waved the useless Colt in the air and pulled the knife from his pocket. As Robinson approached him, Powell reached over Fanny and slashed him in the forehead with the knife. He pushed Fanny aside and then threw the dazed Robinson to the floor. He raced into the room. His hat fell from his head as he stopped and looked about the room to locate the Secretary and gain his bearings. The gas had been turned down low so the room was dimly lit. His eyes adjusted slowly. Across the room, he saw a bed with a figure on it. Realizing that it must be the Secretary of State, he rushed towards the bed. Fanny Seward suddenly appeared at his side and she reached out and clung to him.
“Please, don’t. Please don’t kill him. Not my father,” she pleaded. Without a word, Powell backhanded the girl across the face with his knuckles and sent her sprawling to the floor. In the dim light of the room, Seward had begun to sit up on the bed, awakening to the commotion and distinctly hearing the word “kill.” As Powell knelt on the bed and reached out to grab Seward and pull him over, Sergeant Robinson grabbed Powell from behind. Powell jerked his arm free of Robinson and spun about, slashing with the Bowie knife and cutting the Sergeant across the chest. The cut staggered the Union soldier and he dropped to one knee. Powell kicked him with the heel of his boot and sent him back to the floor.
Powell, freeing himself, knelt onto the bed and dragged William Seward over to where he knelt. Seward was only half awake and still very weak from the carriage accident. As he saw the face of his attacker through the dim light, the Secretary realized that he was a young man with strikingly good looks. As Powell reached out to pull Seward closer, the Secretary of State suddenly thought ‘what handsome cloth that coat is made from.’
Lewis Powell looked down at the man lying prone before him, surprised by the wire frame that was attached to Seward’s head. He knew the Secretary of State had been injured from his carriage accident, but he did not realize there was this contraption on his head. All of this was but a moment’s reflection for the Confederate soldier as he quickly set about his assignment.
Powell raised the Bowie knife and swung down to stab Seward in the neck. Between the darkness in the room and the wire frame around Seward’s head, the blade glanced off the metal and punctured the sheet and
mattress. Powell raised the knife, the whites of Seward’s wide-open eyes gleaming in the darkness, and struck again. The blade once again bounced off the metal frame, but it deflected inside and the seven inch blade cut through Seward’s face. The sharp blade sliced away his cheek. The cheek hung down to his neck like a flap, baring the teeth beneath. Blood gushed from the wound and Powell had to extract the knife from inside the frame around Seward’s head. Seward cried out from the vicious stroke and moaned. Powell felt the warm blood pouring from the Secretary’s face on his left hand that was on Seward’s shoulder to hold him still.
Powell chopped with the knife again, this time trying for the neck, wanting to cut Seward’s throat and jugular. But Powell was straddled over the man, sitting too close to his mark to get a full swinging motion. He cut his neck once but missed twice. Fanny stirred behind him and began to scream.
“Murder! Murder!” Her full-throated screams filled the dark room. Powell stabbed again, but he still only cut at Seward’s shoulder, missing his mark. Then Robinson lunged at him again, pulling him from the bed. Powell slashed out with the knife as he spun about. He caught the Sergeant across the chest again, cutting him open, but not deeply. It stunned Robinson though, and Powell slashed him across the shoulder and then struck him in the face with his left fist. The assassin turned back to the bed and reached in the dark, finding Seward. He quickly knelt on the bed and brought the knife down. Once again the blade glanced off the wire frame and cut into Seward’s neck, but missing his jugular.
“Damn it,” Powell cursed. If the wire frame was getting in the way, then he decided he’d simply pull it off. He reached down and grabbed the wire frame and yanked it. Seward cried out in pain and Powell realized that he could not pull it free. His hands were slippery from the blood leaking out of Seward’s face and neck. He used his left hand to push the brace to the side, tilting Seward’s head and exposing his neck. Seward cried out in pain. Powell slashed the knife across and cut the base of Seward’s neck. The Secretary cried out again. Powell was still kneeling too close to Seward to get a good free swinging motion so he quickly repositioned himself on the bed while holding onto the wire frame. Behind him, Powell sensed more movement in the room. He brought the knife down in another slashing motion at Seward’s exposed neck. The assassin was confident that this would be the deathblow. But he suddenly felt himself pulled back and the tip of the knife blade just nicked Seward’s neck sending another warm wet spray onto Powell’s hand, but avoiding the jugular.
Augustus Seward, the eldest son who had been serving as a Major in the Union Army, had heard the commotion and had run into the room. He grabbed the man he saw attacking his father. He was directly behind Powell and the attacker could not see him. Powell waved the knife wildly behind his head, trying to get his assailant to let go. Powell was now confronting and attacking the fifth person in this house. He felt trapped and the adrenaline that was already coursing through his veins suddenly felt energized by an invisible bolt of lightning. His eyes became wide and the whites shone out in the dark room like a bobcat on the prowl. A self-preservation mechanism that had served him so well at Antietam and Chancellorsville and the first day of Gettysburg sprang to life. Powell became like a trapped animal. He spun around, knocking August Seward’s hands away. In the darkened room, Augustus saw those gleaming eyes. He was struck by how they were void of all emotion and the face, that might have seemed handsome to his father, was now stone-like and determined. Augustus knew he had to save his father and his sister who continued her hoarse screams and whimperings through a raw throat.
Seward’s son reached out for the other man’s coat. Powell stabbed the outstretched hand, then brought the knife across the younger Seward’s forehead. Augustus fell to the floor. Powell turned back to the bed and watched as William Seward rolled himself off the far side of the bed in a vain attempt to escape the brutal attack. Powell began to walk around the bed in order to finish the work he’d begun, but Sergeant Robinson was up and grabbed at Powell once more. Behind the Private, Fanny Seward struggled to stand and keep her balance. Robinson caught Powell from behind in a bear hug as the Confederate stepped between the bed and the wall to make one more stab at the Secretary of State. Powell grabbed Robinson’s hands and held them as he lunged backwards slamming Robinson into the wall. At the same time Powell popped his head backwards and caught Robinson in the nose with the back of his head. The Sergeant groaned and went limp. Powell let him drop to the floor.
Fanny Seward, while Robinson attacked her father’s assassin, had opened the window and was screaming “Murder! Murder!” to bring all of Washington City to her father’s aid. Her throat was so inflamed at this point that the word filled the quiet night air with a raw and wild sound.
David Herold, who’d seen William Bell running from the house, now became thoroughly frightened. “Murder! They are murdering the Secretary of State!” Herold heard a woman scream. He looked to the front door, but Powell was not there. He mounted his horse and waited for his partner to emerge. The door remained closed.
“Damn! He’s caught,” Herold muttered and kicked his horse into a gallop and headed out of the city. The pounding of the hooves was muted on the dirt road and grew faint under the hysterical screams of Fanny Seward.
Back in the room, Powell stepped away from Robinson and commanded Fanny Seward to “Shut up!” Augustus rushed across the room, and caught Powell in a crushing bear hug. Powell’s arms were pinned down at this side but he squirmed and threw his head back trying to catch Gus Seward in the face with the back of his head. Robinson struggled to his feet and also grabbed Powell and together, the two men forced him toward the door. As they moved him, Powell broke his left arm free and punched at Robinson. The Sergeant buried his face into Powell’s chest. The two men, both cut and injured, were tiring quickly. Powell was able to turn about and began to break free, but Gus Seward kept his arms wrapped around the assailant. As he turned, Powell was face-to-face with the eldest Seward. The assassin’s eyes were wide and fierce with determination and glinting with fury.
“I’m mad,” Powell said to Seward. His voice wasn’t wild when he said this. He didn’t scream the words, he simply said them like a statement of fact, though there was an edge and fierce energy to his voice that sent a chill down Seward’s back.
“I’m mad!” This time Powell shouted into Seward’s face with a rising voice. He had a burst of strength and wrenched himself free of the men. He shot his elbow back and knocked Robinson, who was still behind him, to the floor. He slashed forward with the knife, but Seward had already jumped back and through the door. He called back to Powell that he’d return with a gun. The assassin looked from the half-opened door to the room where Augustus Seward had disappeared, to Fanny looking at him over her shoulder at the window, to the empty bed from which William Seward had rolled into a pile between the bed and the wall. The voice in his head that he’d developed from his raids with Mosby in the war told him it was time to skedaddle. The electrified adrenaline lit him up once again and he looked about the room wildly for a new attacker. He bolted through the door with the knife poised in case somebody else was there. The brightly lit foyer caused him to blink as he quickly fled to the stairs and stepped over Frederick Seward, unconscious and bleeding on the floor.
Outside, Emerick Hansell, a young messenger for the State Department was walking quickly up to the front door of the Seward home. He was a messenger on duty for the State Department and arrived to deliver a message to the Secretary or Assistant Secretary if the older Seward was asleep. As he approached the house he thought he’d heard someone screaming bloody murder, but then Lafayette Park had gone eerily still. As he rushed into the open door of the house, he saw a large man approach him from the stairs. The man had wide and wild eyes. He carried a gleaming knife and was spattered with blood. Hansell stopped in his tracks on the rug in the foyer, paralyzed with fear.
“I am mad!” Powell yelled as he approached Hansell. The messenger turned to run and t
he mad man sank the knife into his back. Hansell cried out and fell to the floor. Powell didn’t break his stride, but ran into the night and cried, “I am mad! I am mad!” As he ran across Lafayette Park, he dropped the knife in the street. Powell’s vicious visit to the Seward’s house had lasted but ten minutes.
In Seward’s bedroom, Fanny Seward was leaning on the windowsill. She was still regaining her strength from being knocked unconscious. Her face was beginning to swell and her skin was crimson, as if with a high fever, from the rising bruise where Powell had struck her. Sergeant Robinson, ignoring the gashes on his forehead, chest, and shoulders, was already turning the gas up to view the horror of the Secretary of the State lying in a bloody heap on the floor between the bed and the wall. He had seen many scenes of blood and mayhem on the battlefield, but the sight of so much garnet on the sheets and floors of a quiet home unnerved the war veteran.
Major Augustus Seward, hand and chest bleeding, returned with his revolver and glanced down at his prone brother. Frederick Seward, the Assistant Secretary of State, lay at the top of the stairs as still as a dead man. In the light of the gas lamps that burned dimly inside the Seward home, the stairway glistened with shimmering drops of blood clinging to the wall. The blood from Freddie Seward flowed from his head to the stairway, creating a small fall of blood that was making its way down to the steps below. And in the bedroom, droplets of blood formed and clung to the sheet hanging askew from the bed and then fell to the rug below. Soldiers, responding to the butler’s alarm, were pushing through the front door. Gus Seward ordered them to retrieve Dr. Verdi and Surgeon General Barnes at once
Fanny Seward turned from the window as her brother Augustus ran back into the room with his loaded revolver.
A Night of Horrors: A Historical Thriller about the 24 Hours of Lincoln's Assassination Page 19
