The Titans (15 page)

you've finished reading." The letter was addressed to Dear Mama and Edward. Jephtha experienced another moment of malicious pleasure because his son hadn't referred to Lamont as father. He read on: We are docked in New Orlens, which is a prety town and full of nigras and prety dark-skinned girls, Creols the captain calls them. I enjoy looking at them and sketching them but have not met any personty, I supose I am too young. "You're right, he's no student," Jephtha smiled. "I've never seen such spelling and punctuation." Fan laughed. "More a lack of it, I'd say." greater-than was Mama I know you have urged me to atend worship but we are busy putting on a new load of cotton and admiring those Creol girls and that leaves me very little time to draw so all I have done is visit a Cathedral which is very famus in town and catholic and very old but full of lovely figures of church persons, really very pretty. All hands are happy with Capt. McGill, he makes us work like devils but to a purpose, we have a trim vesel and always offers of more cargo than we can carry. The captain does not talk much with the crew, he is stern I guess you would say. When not on deck he is in his cabin playing a mouth organ, music is something he loves very much. He has The Utans219 been kind to me though, asked me many questions about our family even the Kents in the north, I have a feeling he hates the idea of war thinks it is mad. I cant explain why he seems to be easy with me when I make mistakes but he is. I don't think he would have let anyone else draw him though I may just be showing off my own feathers saying that. There is a lot of talk of war here they write out the news from Montgomry on boards in front of the newspaper ofices, also many pictures of Mr. Davis are displayed. They talk of a new flag and every- ones whistling or humming "Dixie's Land"-well that is all my news except to say I have put in two drawings I hope you will like, I have saved the ones of Creol girls for when I get lonesome at sea. I will write again when we make port in Charleston Your loving son, Matthew. "Thank you for letting me read it." Jephtha handed the letter back, musing: "McGill-McGill-I remember! I knew it had a familiar sound. When I arrived in New York, they told me a clipper captain named McGill attended Amanda's funeral." "Was he a Southerner?" "I don't recall." "I wonder if it could be the same man." "You saw the reference to questions about the family. It might be." "Then I'd feel a little less apprehensive. Here-I want you to see the sketches-was Jephtha examined the charcoal drawings of the dock workers and Matthew's skipper. "Fan, the boy has remarkable talent." "He does. But he's too carefree." 220O Absaloml "He's young yet." "I think he'll be the same way all his life. He's not interested in anything that can lead to a proper career." "As long as he's content, does it matter?" "No, I imagine not. With that Fletcher blood, he's very likely to do as he pleases regardless of what anyone says." "Oh, how I'd love to see him!" Jephtha laid the sketches aside, his eye drawn toward the door of the other bedroom. "And Jeremiah-?" She held out her hand. "Come." Her smile and the outstretched hand made Jephtha ashamed of all the hate he'd harbored;, ashamed too of the cruel faultiness of his own thinking. The passage of time had changed him. But he'd never granted that it could do the same for Fan. He took her hand. She opened the bedroom door quietly. Whispered: "I'll wake him if you wish." He almost said yes. Then he shook his head: "It might startle him too much. I mean, being roused and confronted by a father he hasn't seen in years. I doubt if he remembers me well. He was only six or so when I left Lexington. Perhaps you can tell him I was here. I'll speak to him when I meet Gideon. I'll go in for a moment, if I may-was "He's your son, too, Jephtha." She stood aside.

Fan left the door halfway open. The parlor gaslight spread dimly across Jeremiah's bed. Fearing he'd wake his son-and fearful of his own emotions as well-Jephtha stole to the bedside and gazed down at the stocky, ruddy-cheeked boy breathing slowly in deep slumber. The Titans221 One of Jeremiah's hands rested on top of the cover. Jephtha knelt. He stretched out his right hand, mingled love and pain welling within him. Jeremiah stirred. Turned his head on the pillow. Spoke a few muffled syllables. When he was quiet again, Jephtha touched his hand and cried silently, without shame. in He cried from the profound and wondrous joy of touching one of his three earthly links with immortality; one of his three triumphs over the death that waited for every human being. Then, like an ugly intruder, came the thought that Jeremiah was, in a way, forever lost to him. He could taste the salt of his own tears as he grieved over the unbridgeable chasm created by the past; by his own fanaticism, and Fan's. He remembered a passage from II Samuel. His lips formed silent words of love and loss; the words of David- was "O Absalom, my son, my son? Slowly, he bent forward. Jeremiah's hand smelled of soap. Jephtha put his lips against the warm skin; the gentlest of kisses. Restless, the boy moved again. Jephtha rose quickly. He backed toward the door and Fan's waiting shadow. When he emerged, she was stricken silent by the glow of his smile and the pain in his eyes. "He-he's turned into a fine-looking young man, he-was The door of the other bedroom opened. Doctor But- terfield lurched out, fumbling with the clasp of his satchel. Jephtha spun and walked to the window bay, 222O Absalom! facing the dark outside so the doctor couldn't see his tears. friend "comnothing broken that I can detect," Butterfield said. "Swabbed his face clean. Also dressed the worst cut and gave him a drop of a tincture to help him sleep. He'll be up and about tomorrow. Sore as hell, though. Poor fellow took quite a pounding. Would you-ah- care to have me drop back and examine him in the afternoon?" "Yes, I'd appreciate it," Fan said. Jephtha sniffed. The doctor smelled like a distillery. During the examination, the doctor had evidently sharpened his diagnostic skills with the aid of the bedside decanter. "Happy to-happy!" Butterfield weaved toward the door. "Physician's sacred duty to look after his patients! Shall we say-was Another belch. "Beg pardon. Four o'clock?" "Fine." The hall door closed. A moment later, they heard a loud thud and an outpouring of curses. Fan sighed: "I'm glad we didn't hire him to perform surgery." Though Jephtha smiled, he felt sorry for the shabby doctor. A man haunted. But then, what man or woman wasn't? "I expect I'd better be going too-was he began. "I thank you again for your help and compassion." "And I thank you for letting me see Jeremiah. For telling me about Gideon, and Matt." "When we were back in Lexington--" "Fan, no more. That's over." "I have to say this to you. So it'll be off my conscience. You know I thought you were a bad influence-was The Titans223 "Satanic!" His smile faded. "I still could be. I told you I haven't changed my views-was "Yes, but you're-you're not wicked, and I claimed you were. I'd never deny you the right to see the boys." Despite his intentions, remembered wrath got the better of him: "I'll admit it wasn't pleasant when you refused to answer my letters asking about them." "Edward and I-that is-I accept the responsibility. Not replying was wrong. What can I say except I hope you can forgive me?" "Completely." "I have changed, Jephtha." "We both have. That's good." She couldn't know how fervently he meant those words. Never again would he have to fear his own anger. At the door, he said, "You've made me very happy tonight. So let me offer what I hope is a helpful word. You and Lamont shouldn't stay in Washington much longer." "Because we're Southerners?" "Zealous ones-and after tonight, notorious ones- why are you smiling?" "Because Edward is a zealot. In many ways he reminds me of you twenty years ago." Softly: "I sometimes ask myself if that's one reason I married him-was She brightened. "In any case, I appreciate your concern. I'll tell Edward what you said, though I'm sure he'll want to express his thanks in person before we go." She thought a second. "The instant Gideon's back from Richmond, I'll send you a note." "Send it to Mrs. Emerson's boarding house. On G Street. Any of the nigra bootblacks outside the hotel will know where it is." "Mrs. Emerson's," Fan repeated. "I'll remember. ?" 224O Absalom! "One last word. I-was He conquered his jealously. "comI'm pleased you've found some happiness." Surprisingly, she saddened. "There's not much happiness in thinking of Gideon being drawn into a war. Even a short one." "I know. But the Kents have always been somewhat pig-headed on one point." "What's that?" "Living without principles, or refusing to act on those principles, isn't living, just cowardice. I loathe the thought of Gideon going to war. I don't believe in his cause. But his willingness to risk himself proves he's a Kent. I'm proud of him. And eternally grateful to you-was Though he knew he shouldn't, he leaned forward to kiss Fan's cheek. For a space of seconds, she pressed her fingertips lightly against his chin. He drew back. "Good night, Fan." He hurried down the hall, happy beyond belief. The Sharps pepperbox in his pocket was forgotten. So was Edward Lamont's peculiar behavior in the hack. He left the National by the main door leading to Pennsylvania Avenue. In a hurry to reach G Street, he failed to see the watchers lurking in front of an unlighted shop a few doors from the hotel. A hand caught his arm; whirled him around- "Hold on, Mister!" The bile of terror welled in his throat. There were three of them. One took a firmer grip on Jephtha's arm. A second shoved the point of a long Bowie knife against his shirt. The knife-wielder twisted the handle a quarter turn. On the blade, Jephtha saw a dark patch- Dried blood. The Titans225 "You got any official business on the streets?" the man with the knife demanded. Anger overcame fear. Jephtha wrenched back from the Bowie: "Who the hell are you to be asking?" "Never mind, just answer," said the man all but hidden in the darkness behind the other two. Jephtha recognized the voice: "Moore? Call off these fools! You know me." Solomon Moore stepped forward. He was a grizzled Republican from Ohio. He'd come to the city hoping to find a political appointment. Jephtha had spoken with him twice at Willard's. "Jephtha Kent!" Moore exclaimed. "I didn't make you out right off-sorry. Ease up, boys." The two men accompanying Moore relaxed. One reached for a cigar. Jephtha thought he spied a bolstered revolver under the man's coat "What the devil is this, Moore? Where do you get off stopping people on Pennsylvania Avenue?" The man with the Bowie growled, "We belong to the new Cash Clay battalion. Organized tonight. We're patrolling the avenue and the side streets. Senator Lane's Frontier Guards are watching the grounds of President's Park. You're still going to explain where you're headed-was "The hell I am! Moore knows I'm no secesh." "For a fact," Moore confirmed. "Put the knife away, Luther." Luther didn't respond. Jephtha shuddered. The Dorns of the world were taking over. The second man said, "We oughta warn him, Solo- mon." 226O Absalom! "Warn me about what?" "I just wouldn't traipse around after dark," Moore said. Luther said, "We come across a loudmouth from Alabama half an hour ago. He got feisty. Wouldn't tell us why he was out." The second man chuckled. "Now he's walkin" around with his cock halfway up his bung." The man with the Bowie licked his thumb and stroked the dried blood on the blade. "There's boys from the patrol all over. Next time, Moore might be blocks away." "I'll bear that in mind." Jephtha's tone said just the opposite. Moore was irked: "If you don't, you're stupid." The trio drifted back toward the National. Jephtha went the opposite way, his ebullient mood ruined. On both sides, the hatreds were growing worse and worse- He thought of the bully with the knife. Of the savagery of the Canterbury riot. And of the animal that hid inside every man; even himself. In wartime, men made allowances. It was permissible to let the animal out of his pen. And if he maimed- slew-well, that was acceptable- So long as he maimed or slew an enemy. The night's events made Jephtha think more realistically about his sons. Especially Gideon. If the war proved to be anything but short and relatively bloodless, Gideon would face other young men who had been told, Let the animal free. It's your sacred duty. When that happened, Gideon could suffer the fate of the Biblical Absalom; could die because of his own dedication; be slain by the beasts a war let loose. Until now, Jephtha really hadn't accepted the possibility. At last, he did. Gideon could die. The Titans227 If the war was long, Matt could be drawn hi- Even Jeremiah. And he might one day find himself repeating the words he'd whispered in Jeremiah's room, but speaking them as King David had-over a still body; the flesh of his flesh. He walked faster along the deserted avenue, fear for his sons his sole companion. vi In a cramped, untidy boarding house room off Seventh Street, Josiah Cheever set-to work. The bolted door protected him from interruption. An oil lamp illuminated the tiny desk. Despite his aching ribs-he'd been punched three times escaping from Canterbury Hall-he smiled as his pen rasped across the sheet, inscribing the date. He thought a moment, then wrote: As you will no doubt read in the Washington newspapers which I understand reach you regularly via trusted messengers similar to the one who will deliver this report, our mutual friend endangered himself and our larger plan this evening. However, his performance at C. H. conclusively demonstrated the depth of his loyalty. I have learned he escaped safely from C. H. after the melee, though I do not know how. I was also advised that the object of our common interest was in the audience. I did not see him-a fact I regret somewhat. The attendant confusion might have presented an opportunity for the quick accomplishment of our objective. There were weapons in evidence. Many persons were hurt. I myself narrowly avoided severe injury at the hands of two 228O Absalom! who disliked the sentiments our mutual friend delivered from the stage. Given those circumstances, a man might well have perished without undue notice as to whether he had been "helped along" Cheever's upper lip glistened as he read over the last few words. He pressed his legs together beneath the desk, feeling an almost sexual excitement. He inked the pen and continued: However, I know that if I had acted as suggested above, our mutual friend would be upset, perhaps to the point of withdrawing his cooperation. He insists on proceeding at his own pace, so as not to unduly arouse his wife's suspicions. He further insists upon superintending all arrangements; takes a certain pleasure in it, I suspect. Although the delay is annoying, I believe we must humor him, for he is on our side; and invaluable. This is especially true now that I have at last convinced him of the realism of our position-viz., that confronted as we are by the superior manpower and resources of the enemy, we may not win a war in a matter of weeks or months; the struggle may be long and-most important comcostly. Thanks to my efforts, our mutual friend now shares that view, and is no longer swayed by the thoughtless fools who claim quick success is an absolute certainty. I do not mean to imply that we must not strive for a quick success-or that it is utterly impossible to achieve. I mean we must always have an alternate plan. Therefore, we must continue to allow our mutual friend a certain latitude. But I can state the following as a fact. With my assistance and encouragement, he will- Cheever paused to slash three underscores beneath the last word. The Titans229 commake certain "Parson K" departs this earth accompanied by the everlasting gratitude of all who serve the cause. On my honor I pledge to you that the anticipated departure will take place reasonably soon. At that time we shall reap the benefits; I trust a righteous God has withdrawn Heavenly rewards for damn yankees. The clerk chewed the end of the pen a moment, admiring the sardonic quality of his phrasing. To heighten the effect, he added his customary code signature: Cameron. He laid the pen aside, rose and took a small brass key from the pocket of his soiled trousers. He burrowed in a smelly, two-week-old pile of laundry in the closet He uncovered a valise and unlocked it with the key. From a slit in the valise's lining, he removed a small book. The cover measured four by two inches. The book was less than a quarter inch thick. With the proper rice paper pages open to the lamplight, he readied a clean sheet. He referred to the book frequently as he rewrote the original message using the correct substitution cipher for the week. The emerging translation was a pattern of letter groupings that would make no sense if the courier to Richmond were captured and the hollow heel of his farmer's boot discovered. CHAPTER VIH The Bait WHEN JEPHTHA BURST TNTO the kitchen of the boarding house, Bertha screamed and dropoed five dinner plates she was pulling from a tub of rinse water. The black woman's temper exploded before the shards of china stopped rattling on the floor: "Lord God, Mr. Jephtha, you want to give me a seizure 7 Look what you done!" "I'll buy a whole new set to replace "emffM She squealed as he caught her around the waist, lifted and whirled her. "Mr. Jephtha, you put me down! You gone completely crazy? Miz MollyTl have a conniption fit when I tell her about the plates!" "Then don't tell her. I'll slip you the money for the new ones next time I get paid-was Breathing hard-he was tired, and Bertha was an armful-he set the black woman on the floor. She gasped when he planted a big smacking kiss on her cheek. She pursed her lips. "I know you take a drop now an" then. But I never seen you skunk drunk before." "Bertha, I'm not drunk." "Well, you could fool me." "Is Molly still up?" "No. She was worn out from worryin' about you. She went to bed early." "Then I'll have to wake her."