The Crossed Sabres Read online

  They arrived at Richmond to find the city packed. Spence parked the buggy at a livery stable and they had to practically push their way through the throngs to get to the center of the city. When they got to the square, Spence said, “Let’s go up on the balcony of that hotel. This is too uncomfortable.”

  He led her through the lobby, bribed a grinning bellboy to let them use the balcony, and stood there looking down on the square. It was late afternoon, and the air was hot, but that in no way discouraged the crowds below. There was a holiday atmosphere about the affair, as though beginning a war were no more than beginning a hunting season.

  They arrived just in time to witness the presentation of a battle flag to a new company that was being formed. This was a common practice, the flag usually being made by one having a heart interest in one of the volunteers. When the flag was completed, there was a presentation, usually at a dress parade, a banquet, a religious assembly, or a mass meeting especially for the ceremony. In most instances oratory flew high, and as Miss Idelea Collens offered the colors on a bunting-draped stand, Spence and Marlene got a full sampling of it:

  “Receive then, from your mothers and sisters, from those whose affections greet you, these colors woven by our feeble but reliant hands; and when this bright flag shall float before you on the battlefield, let it not only inspire you with brave and patriotic ambition of a soldier aspiring to his own and his country’s honor and glory, but also may it be a sign that cherished loves appeal to you to save them from a fanatical and heartless foe!”

  Spence laughed softly, saying in Marlene’s ear, “What nonsense!”

  “Oh, Spence, be quiet! She means it!” Marlene allowed herself to lean against him, saying, “Look, that sergeant is going to receive the flag.”

  A color-sergeant had advanced with his corporals to receive the flag, and his response was high-flying indeed: “Ladies, with high-beating hearts and pulses throbbing with emotion, we receive from your hands this beautiful flag, the proud emblem of our young republic. To those who may return from the field of battle bearing this flag in triumph, though perhaps tattered and torn, this incident will always prove a cheering recollection. And to him whose fate it may be to die a soldier’s death, this moment brought before his fading view will recall your kind and sympathetic word, he will bless you as his spirit takes its aerial flight. May the God of battles look down upon us as we register a soldier’s vow that no stain will ever be found upon thy sacred folds, save the blood of those who attack thee or those who fall in thy defense. Comrades you have heard the pledge, may it ever guide and guard you on the tented field! Let its bright folds inspire you with new strength, nerve your arms, and steel your hearts to deeds of strength and valor!”

  A wild yell of exultation rose from the crowd, and since every eye was on the platform, Spence took the occasion to draw Marlene close. She protested, “Oh, Spence—!” but when he released her, she was flustered, and pushed him away, saying, “You’re awful, Spencer Grayson!”

  “No, I’m just in love with you,” he said, and tried to embrace her again, but she pulled away, an arch look in her dark eyes.

  “I didn’t come here to be kissed by you in full view of all Richmond,” she pouted.

  “Well, we’ll just have to find a better place,” he answered, and then they left the balcony and went to supper. He had made reservations at the Elliot, the finest hotel in Richmond, and it was well he did, for every table was taken. During the meal he kept her entertained—something he did well, for he had made a study of pleasing women. He was one of the finest-looking men in the room, his handsome features and tall stature drawing admiring glances from many of the ladies. The reception didn’t begin for an hour, so they drank more wine than was proper, and by the time they arrived, Marlene was a little unsteady.

  But she recovered quickly, and soon they were moving about, noting that the cream of the newly birthed Confederacy was gathered under the roof. The new president, Jefferson Davis, was a tall Mississippian with austere features, but his wife, Varina, was a beauty!

  For over three hours the pair enjoyed the music, managing to slip outside to a convenient garden while the speeches were being made. Finally, Marlene said, “Spence, I’ve got to get back to Belle Maison.”

  “You sure you want Tom to take you home?” he asked.

  “Yes, it’s too long a trip for you.”

  “All right. I’ll go find him. You wait here.” He disappeared into the crowd, and Marlene waited until he returned. “He decided not to come,” Spence reported. “His brothers came, but they said Tom stayed home to pout. Now, you’ve got to let me take you home.”

  She smiled, but was put out with Tom. “Well, if he doesn’t care any more than that—”

  They left the hotel, walked to the stable and were soon on their way back to Belle Maison. Marlene had had too much to drink, and giggled a good deal. When they got to the house, Spence pulled the buggy to a halt, and for some time they sat in the wagon, laughing and being foolish. He kissed her more than once, but finally she said, “No more, young man! I don’t trust either one of us tonight!”

  He protested, but when she insisted, he got down and helped her out. The house was dark, and he said as they approached the porch, “They’ve probably locked you out.”

  A voice spoke so unexpectedly that both Spence and Marlene started.

  “No, the door’s not locked.”

  Tom had been standing in the shadows, and now he came forward. The moonlight revealed the anger on his face, and he said at once, “It’s late Marlene. Go to bed.”

  Spence had a wicked temper, and Tom’s sudden appearance caused it to flare. “You get tired of spying on us?”

  “Go back to town, Spence. You’ve had too much to drink.”

  “I’ll go when I get ready!”

  “Do as you please then,” Tom said shortly. He had gone to town, but it had been an unhappy decision. He had tormented himself with the sight of Spence dancing with Marlene, and then had discovered that they had left. He knew that Spence had devised some way of getting Marlene to let him drive her home. Ordinarily he would have laughed at such a thing, but he was too much in love with Marlene to do that. He had left at once, taken a short cut and arrived at Belle Maison filled with anger. He felt betrayed and wanted to avoid a scene.

  But he had a temper of his own, and answered wickedly, “Spence, get in the buggy before I do something I’ll regret.” He stepped forward and took Marlene’s arm, but as he turned, Spence’s fist caught him on the neck, and he staggered to the side. At once he was caught by a blow on his cheekbone that drove him to the ground, and he rolled once, then came to his feet. Given his choice, he might have tried to talk to Grayson—but he had no chance, for the other man was driving at him, striking out with all his strength.

  Tom slipped the punch, knocking it aside with his arm, and caught Spence with a terrific right hand high on the head. It stopped the other man as suddenly as if he had run into a piling, and as Spence’s eyes went blank, Tom dropped his hands, saying, “Let’s stop this foolishness—” But he was stopped when a blow caught him in the mouth. He tasted the salty tang of blood, and then was forced to fight back as Grayson came at him like an animal.

  The two of them threw blows that struck and drew blood, and Tom was driven across the grass by Grayson’s superior weight. He caught one glimpse of Marlene, her hand over her lips and her eyes bright, but then he saw no more. Grayson was taller and stronger, and at first he drove Tom with his powerful blows. Finally, when Tom refused to go down, Spence began to huff, drawing up great gasps of air. Tom stayed away, and the power of his blows began to tell.

  Both men were bloody, and Tom knew that his body would be bruised for days where Spence had hammered on his ribs. But there was a blind anger in him that matched that in Spence, and the two of them struck again and again. But it couldn’t last, and finally Tom caught Spence with a hard right hand just over the eyebrow. Tom felt his hand collapse and knew he’d brok
en a bone, but it was the end of the fight, for Grayson went down and lay absolutely still save for his chest that rose and fell rapidly.

  “Get in the house!” Tom commanded Marlene, and after one wild look at his bloody face, she wheeled and ran away. Tom stood there, gasping for breath, aware of the pain that was beginning to run along his body.

  Standing there looking down at Spence, he knew nothing could ever be the same between them. And sorrow for all the good times that could never come again with this man was a keen blade of regret in him. Finally Spence opened his eyes, and when they focused, Tom got such a look of hatred that he hardly recognized the man.

  Grayson got to his feet painfully, then without a word, turned and walked to the buggy. Tom tried to call out, but knew it was hopeless. He had seen Spence like this before, harsh and unforgiving, but never had felt the weight of his anger personally. He watched helplessly as the man got into the buggy, after several unsuccessful tries, then drove off without a single word or look. Then he turned and went into the house, and as he tended to his own hurts, he realized that something had gone out of his life forever. The war and all it implied had worn upon him; now the loss of his best friend weighed heavily on Tom Winslow, and he felt sad that this day marked the end of all things.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Fires of War

  Fort Sumter’s smoke-stained flag drooped from a broken flagstaff as ninety exhausted men marched out to their ships, drums beating and colors flying. They were angry, hungry, and tired men, but their backs were straight as they marched.

  General Beauregard, wearing a hussar sword with a gilded hilt—the gilded metal of the guard twisted into lovelocks and roses—watched them go. Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard with his dark, handsome face, posed there, feeling the thrill of victory.

  But the fall of Fort Sumter was like a stone falling into a still pond, the ripples spreading over North and South.

  In Washington, Abraham Lincoln waited, pacing up and down the White House halls in nightshirt and carpet slippers. He had been called many names, including an ape and a buffoon. The crude small-time politician, a comparative failure at forty, was thrust into the presidency by a series of almost comical political events. His cabinet included Seward and Chase, who hated each other, each believing he should be president instead of Lincoln. When one of Lincoln’s aides protested against the disrespect these men showed toward Lincoln, the president smiled, saying, “When I was a boy, if I had just one pumpkin to bump in a sack, it was hard to carry, but if you could get two pumpkins, one in each end of the sack, it balanced things up. Seward and Chase will do for my pair of pumpkins.”

  In the North, Abraham Lincoln grew tired and discouraged as he faced a task no man could survive. Often he wondered about Jefferson Davis, the president of the Confederacy. He said once, “Davis was born only forty miles from my own birthplace. He got the start of me in age and raising. I guess if you set out to pick one of us two for president, you’d pick him, nine times out of ten.”

  In the South, Jefferson Davis was as tired as Lincoln. He looked much like John Calhoun, stern and austere. He was brilliant, but his brittle temper and caustic manner prevented him from drawing men to him. His cabinet included Judah B. Benjamin, the dapper Jew; Toombs, the tall, restless Georgian, as fine to look at as a young bull—and as hard to manage; Alex Stephens, vice-president, called “The Pale Star of the Confederacy”; and Mallory, Regan, and Walker.

  Neither nation was prepared for war, and for months there was a frantic scurry to put together armies. The Northern newspapers, published by Horace Greeley, tried to force Lincoln into action by running the headline ON TO RICHMOND!

  Throughout the country the fall of Fort Sumter was felt, and its ripple effect quickly reached Belle Maison and the house of Winslow. It was all Sky and his wife, Rebekah, could do to keep their boys from joining the army immediately. Dan and Tom were persuaded to stay out of it only with great difficulty, but they could do nothing with Mark, who enlisted as soon as Seth Barton had organized the Richmond Blades.

  It was not a bad time for Tom, despite the unsettled affairs of the country. Marlene had gone back to New Orleans after Tom’s fight with Spence, but had returned a month later for a prolonged stay. Her mother, a widow of fifty years, accompanied her, and the two were fortunate enough to find a small frame house just outside of Richmond. They made a place for themselves in the higher realms of the social world in the city and showed no inclination to return to New Orleans. This delighted Tom, who immediately resumed his courtship with Marlene.

  Spence Grayson, to everyone’s surprise, did not return to his home in New York at the outbreak of the war. At his father’s request, Spence had stayed in Virginia to sell off their holdings, which were considerable. Though he was an alien in a strange land, he was not treated badly, as were others who lacked his wealth and his ability with a dueling pistol. Even the aristocracy of the Confederacy, whom he met at the home of the Chesnuts, treated him with formal courtesy.

  Spence’s relationship with Tom, however, had changed, partly because the Northerner continued his pursuit of Marlene Signourey.

  Their first meeting after the brutal fight occurred at a banquet. Tom had known it would happen and had sought out Spence at once. Extending his hand, he said, “Sorry, Spence.” Grayson had taken it quickly, nodded and replied, “Let’s forget it, Tom.”

  But Tom Winslow knew that it would never be forgotten, no matter how many times they smiled and shook hands. There was a hard light in Spence’s eyes that had not been there before, and Tom knew something had died that night they had fought in the darkness at Belle Maison.

  Marlene met both of them with smiles, attended the theater with Spence and went to Belle Maison often, spending much time with Belle Winslow. The two young women were the same age, and drew the young soldiers like flies. At every ball—and there were many in the days preceding the first battle at Manassas—Tom found himself thrown into Spence’s company often, for the aristocratic society of Richmond was not large.

  The beginning of July, it became obvious to everyone that the first great battle of the war was edging closer. Most of Tom’s friends had joined the Richmond Blades, where his brother Mark was an officer, so wherever Tom went the conversation was all strategy and battles and arms. He felt left out, and though no one belittled him—as they had some others—Tom felt left behind.

  This sense of isolation only compounded one Friday when a review of the army was to take place. As he watched Mark dress in his uniform, noting the excitement and eagerness that swept him, Tom’s desire to be a part of it became even stronger.

  Dan, too, was affected. At breakfast that day, he begged once again for permission to enlist, but both parents were adamant.

  “I’ll be left out!” Dan moaned. “It’ll all be over before I can join the rest!”

  Sky’s lips tightened as he answered bleakly, “That’s your least worry, Dan. This thing won’t be settled by one battle.”

  Later as they drove to the parade ground, Sky asked, “What are you going to do with that young woman, Tom?”

  The question startled Tom, for his father rarely addressed such intimate affairs. He had brought his sons and daughters up to be independent, and though he was always available to them, he refused to meddle in their personal affairs.

  “Why, I guess I’m going to try to marry her,” Tom blurted out. Encouraged by his father’s interest, he said, “It’s what I’ve wanted to do, but I’m not sure if she’ll have me.”

  Sky looked out across the rolling hills, noting the gap the carriage would pass through. He was thinking of the day when a band of Sioux might be on the other side, for the years had not taken away all his caution. Now he smiled at his own fancies, but sobered as he turned to glance at his son. He loved this tall, dark son of his, though it was difficult for him to put it into words. The men of his world rarely spoke about such things, considering it to be a weakness. But now he wanted to put his arm around his son’
s broad shoulders, to take away some of the burden that had come to him.

  “Well, she might not,” Sky said finally, speaking slowly. “Women are hard to figure out. But if she did, it’s not the best time in the world to begin a family.”

  “No, I guess not.” Tom sat there swaying with the motion of the carriage, thinking of his father’s statement. Finally he said, “I guess it wasn’t much better when you and mother got married. It was pretty wild in those days, wasn’t it?”

  “Wild enough,” Sky mused; his eyes, blue as the sky overhead, were serious. “Always an Indian or two around to put an arrow in your liver. Not as bad as your grandfather had it, though. He lived on the verge of trouble all his life.” He thought of his father, Christmas Winslow, born at Valley Forge during that terrible winter when Washington’s ragged Continentals froze and starved. Washington himself had come by to see the new baby and to congratulate the father, Nathan Winslow.

  “Well, sir,” Tom said after waiting for several minutes with no response, “I guess there’s no way to be safe, is there? A man can’t hide in a hole.”

  “No, he can’t. And no man can make a decision for another one, either.” Sky stared at the hills, then turned his face toward Tom, a smile on his lips. “Whatever you do, son, stick with it. That’s what counts. Any man can start something—but the real test comes when you’re facing difficulty.” He uttered a quiet chuckle. “I’m not much good at giving advice, am I, Tom? But you’ve got good blood in you. If you make a mistake and get floored, why, get up, wipe the blood off and go at it again.”

  Tom stared at his father, filled with a sudden knowledge that this man loved him, though he could not put it into words. He felt a lump in his throat, waited until it went away, then said, “I’m joining the Blades, sir.”

  Sky nodded. “Thought you might be. Dan, he’ll be right behind you. Can’t sit on a young fellow for long, not one with any spirit. Your mother and I will be praying for all three of you boys.”