Christian Cameron - Washington and Caesar

When his hands were cleaner, he took Polly’s between his. Hers were cold.

“Sally’s drunk,” she said, quietly.

Caesar just sat.

“He beat her, and there was nothing we could do. She’s going to break, Caesar. We have to get Bludner before Sally gives up.”

Caesar hung his head.

“Next time will be the last. I swear.”

“Tell Sally that. I’m not afraid, or if I am, it’s nothing to her terror.”

“We’re making a plan. We can’t move until we have some cover, or the rebels will know what we were after.”

“My father agrees. You know that. And he’s trying to sound out…other quarters. We followed the messenger last night, through three other stops. We know where to follow him, and whom he meets. It will make the big night easier.”

Caesar considered Polly.

“I worry about you, Polly. I think this is a great deal more dangerous than standing guard with a musket.”

She smiled and looked down, and Caesar thought that it was something they shared, the secret love of the excitement. He even wondered if sharing this plan wouldn’t bind them in a way that few couples could be bound. He held her close and she kissed him suddenly, her mouth opening under his and her lips melting and unlike anything he had ever known, and her eyes were liquid.

Then she pushed him away.

“I have something else to tell you,” she said with her secret smile. Caesar sat on his heels and looked up at her, waiting.

“I think I’m pregnant,” she said. “Don’t go gettin’ any ideas.”

Caesar’s smile filled his face.

“It’s a pleasure to have you back with us,” said Colonel Robinson, pouring a fresh glass of claret.

They were back under the map at the Moor’s Head. Stewart’s hair was a mare’s nest of red ends, but he was otherwise looking cheerful, if not well. He had a leg up on a chair like a gout sufferer, and one of his arms was strapped to his chest with a black silk sling.

“It’s a pleasure to have so much female sympathy and never need to dance,” said Stewart, acknowledging a smile from a distant Miss Hammond, who was being instructed on the big floor with Mr. Martin. They were learning a ballet. He inclined his head in return. Simcoe gave a snort.

“I gather that when the use of your limbs returns, we shall find you a very passable dancer, Stewart.”

“Lies. All lies.”

Robinson looked around the tavern. “I hear that our army in Virginia is in difficulties.”

“Lord Cornwallis seems to have been maneuvered into a position where the navy has to retrieve him. My friend Simcoe is not too happy about it.”

“Friends of mine outside the line say that General Washington may be preparing to march that way,” said Robinson. “And we think it might be worthwhile to have a little raid to keep him pinned to his lines here.”

Stewart nodded absently, an idea forming in his head.

“How many men would you use?”

“Oh, two hundred at least. We’d beat up one of their outposts and they would assuredly have a covering party behind them, so any trap would need enough muskets to keep the covering party off.”

“Quite a big show, then,” said Stewart with satisfaction. “Any notion when?”

“We need intelligence. I think they are very careful about their movements.”

“But you’d be ready to go soon.”

“Oh yes. Do I sense a spark of professional interest, Major Stewart?”

“I am interested in being active, sir.” Stewart smiled dangerously. “And I’m trying to please friends.”

“We have to be ready to move,” Hamilton repeated. The staff was gathered around the table in the main room of the tavern, and to their number had been added a dozen French officers, most very young men in splendid uniforms. The Duc de Lauzon, one of the most powerful young men in the world, lounged on the back of a windsor chair, his powder blue leg contrasting sharply with the dark wood all around him.

“Move where?” asked a French officer. “We cannot plan a campaign when we don’t know the object, surely?”

Washington held out a hand to George Lake, who passed him a large chart.

“We have an opportunity to act in Virginia,” he said, showing them a new theater of operations. “Always assuming that the Comte de Grasse will condescend to visit us there. But first I want to secure the ground between the ferry and the river, and perhaps farther down toward their posts. A raid in force, gentlemen, to keep their ears pinned back while we go off after the other fox.”

Robinson came into the tavern, dejected, and passed Caesar without a word and sat in the fireplace nook. He stripped off his gloves and began to tap them against his boot. Caesar approached him cautiously, unsure of his welcome, but Robinson seemed to notice him for the first time and beckoned to him.

“Sergeant?”

“Sir.”

“It’s off, Sergeant. Washington has flooded his outposts with men. There must be six thousand militia in the ground along the river. Suicide to try for one of his posts. It’s as if he knew what we were up to,” he said, and Caesar caught a chill. Sally might break, Polly had said.

“Can you stir your friends for reports on the rebels?” Stewart asked. Marcus White and Stewart had shared all their information.

“I can’t see that it is essential, although I’d be happy to please Colonel Robinson and General Clinton.”

Caesar nodded his head. “We have two men from up that way. Van Sluyt comes from one of the plantations on the river. It may be that we could get a report from the blacks up there.”

“Is it so important?” asked Marcus White.

Stewart nodded. “They have moved forward in strength. Some of my friends at headquarters think that Washington may be looking at a proper attack on New York. If that’s the case, Bludner won’t be in our reach. But others aren’t so sure. Lord Cornwallis has got himself in some difficulties in Virginia. Washington has been cunning at covering his movements before. He may be moving. If he is, we need to know what those rebels are doing.”

White turned to Caesar. “Even if it means sending Polly?”

And Caesar felt a nip of fear.

New Windsor, August 14, 1781

Washington read the message calmly, masking his exultation and the resulting nerves with the ease of long practise. He had his plan in place and he was ready.

“Note to General Knox. Please tell the general to suspend the movement of our siege train north. We will keep it at Philadelphia. Fitzgerald, please fetch me Captain Lake.”

“At once, sir.”

Washington dictated a series of orders to his secretary. Militia to fill the posts. More militia to be called out from Connecticut. Commands for the Hudson forts. Commands for the reserves. One of his aides handed him a report from a spy, from which he gleaned that the British had no idea what his real target was. He frowned.

“Do I know Captain Bludner?”

“He has his own company in the outposts, sir. Something to do with intelligence.”

“Leave him here. General Heath will need all the intelligence he can get if the British choose to strike in my absence.”

“Captain Lake, sir.”

Lake entered and saluted. Washington took off his hat and bowed. “I’m sending you back to the marquis.”

“Sir!”

“Captain, I am bringing the army to Virginia, and the French as well. We are going to have a go at the rat in our marquis’s trap. I want you to tell him that I will be on the Peninsula, God willing, in three weeks. He must keep Cornwallis occupied for that long.”

Lake beamed. All motion in the building had stopped and every man hung on Washington’s orders. Word had passed. Virginia. Cornwallis.