Stars and Stripes Trilogy
Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States
The threat of war, and war itself, has plagued my Presidency of these United States of America ever since my inauguration. Instead of a peaceful handing over of Presidential power, a continuation of the rule of law with which this country is blessed, it has proved to have been an administration of strife. The dissension began even before my tenancy of the White House, when the Southern States attempted to sunder their bond with the Federal Union and organize a Confederacy. Once that this new alliance had fired on the Federal troops in Fort Sumter the die was cast. War was inevitable. There was no way to return to the path of peace. Thus began the civil war in America that pitted brother against brother in deadly battle. I hesitate to think what the outcome would have been had these hostilities been allowed to run their course; surely it would have meant a nation sundered and brave men dead by the thousands. That is what would have happened in the very least. At worst it would surely have meant a national catastrophe, the destruction of this country as we know it.
But fate intervened. What began as a small incident, the capture of the British mail packet Trent by the American warship the USS San Jacinto, was inflated, blown up out of all proportion by the British government. As President I would have been happy to release the two Confederate ministers that we had taken from the Trent, had the British government, Lord Palmerston and Queen Victoria in particular, shown any understanding of our position. Despite all of our of our efforts at peacemaking they persisted in their intransigence. My government could not, would not, give in to threats and imprecations at the highest level issued by a foreign power. While we in America worked for a peaceful solution to our national differences, they appeared to want nothing less than a headlong confrontation. While my government was locked in battle with the Southern secessionists, we still had to deal with this militant foreign power.
Alas, the path of international peace was not to be. What should have been a simple matter was blown up out of all proportion until, defying all logic, the forces of the mighty British Empire invaded this sovereign land.
The world knows what happened next. With our nation threatened from the outside, the Civil war, the battle between our government and the seceding states, was ended. The result was that a reunited United States fought back against these invaders, the common enemy. It was not an easy war, none are, but in the end the strength of our common cause was such that the invaders were repulsed and hurled back from our shores. Inspired by our victories the enemy was sent packing as well from Canada, when that nation declared its liberty from colonial rule.
Throughout this war I learned to depend on General William Tecumseh Sherman to fight and to win. He was respected and admired by our Northern troops, and it became a matter of greatest importance that the officers of the Southern Army highly regarded him as well. They appreciated his knowledge and attitude towards the South, as well as his warrior skills. Respected them so well that they were willing to serve under him in the battle against our common enemy.
Finally that invasion and war was ended and we were at peace. Or were we? Unhappily this was not to be the end of our struggle. The Lion of the British Empire had lost battles before-but had never lost a war. Try as hard as they could it appeared that the British simply could not swallow this defeat. Despite all attempts at sweet reason upon our part, they persisted in their bellicosity to the extent that they attempted another invasion of our country, this time through the war-torn land of Mexico.
My generals, now more experienced and wise in the ways of war, devised a counterplan to contain this threat. Instead of our armies being bogged down in a war of attrition on our borders it was decided to take the war closer to the enemy shores. Thus the invasion of Ireland began. The proposed invasion from Mexico was quickly terminated as the British realized that their armies were needed closer to home.
I am proud to say that not only did our forces prevail against the enemy in Ireland, but in fact succeed in liberating that much-stricken nation.
I pray that this national rivalry between our two great countries will now end. These last months my mind has been occupied with domestic matters, not international concerns. During the past August of the year 1864, the Democratic National Congress nominated Judah P. Benjamin as their presidential candidate. A worthy man, without whose unstinting aid, peace and reconciliation in the South would not have been attained. It was my pleasure to be nominated by the Republican Party for a second term, with Andrew Johnston of Tennessee standing for Vice President at my side.
It was a hard-fought election. I regret to say that my name is still anathema in parts of the South and the voters there voted against me, rather than for the Democratic candidate for President. However the soldiers, both those recently discharged and those still in the service, looked upon me as their Commander in Chief and their votes carried the day.
But that is in the past. I began my second term in March of this year, 1865. Now it is May and Washington City was never more beautiful with green leaves and blossoms everywhere. America wishes only peace in the world, but has perhaps become too used to war during the past four years. To provide weapons for our armies and iron ships for our fleets a growing and successful manufacturing economy has evolved, one that we never knew in before in peacetime.
I would be the happiest man in the world if I could preside peacefully over this prosperous land, to oversee that our cannons of war were beaten into the plowshares of peace. Where our native manufacturing genius has succeeded in wartime, it could surely succeed as well in a time of peace.
But will peace prevail? Our British cousins remain bellicose. They still take affront at being expelled from Ireland, after all their centuries of rule. They will not face the fact that they are gone from that green island, and gone for good. Their politicians still make warlike speeches and rattle their sabers in their sheathes. To counter this British exercise in ill will our politicians are now busy on the European continent seeking trade agreements and attempting to strengthen our peaceful ties.
Will peace and sanity prevail? Can another disastrous war be averted?
I can only pray with all my strength that it will.
JUNE 1865
The floor-to-ceiling windows were open to the warm sunshine, admitting the background hum of the busy Belgian capital as well. It also admitted the effluvia of horse manure, a smell unnoticed by anyone who dwells for any time in a large city. President Abraham Lincoln was seated on an ornate Louis XV couch reading the document that Ambassador Pierce had just given him. He looked up when there was a tap on the hall door.
"I'll see who it is, Mr. President," Pierce said. He strutted a bit when he walked; this was his first political appointment and he was immensely proud of it. He had been a Wall Street banker, an old business associate of Lincoln's, from the same law firm, until the President had nominated him for this position. Secretly he knew that he had been selected more for his knowledge of French, and his intimacy with international commerce, than any political skills. Nevertheless, it was still quite an honor. He held the door wide so that the two general officers could come in. Lincoln looked over the tops of his reading glasses and acknowledged their salutes.
"Sashes, swords and ribbons, gentlemen, as well as festoons of gold braid. We are quite elegant today."
"Seemed appropriate for this morning's presentation at court," General Sherman said. "We were just informed about it."
"As was I," Lincoln said. "I was also told that it was most important, and was told as well that they particularly requested that you and General Grant be present."
"Did they way why, sir?" Grant asked.
"Not directly. But Pierce here, who has made many important contacts since his appointment, took a senior Belgian civil servant aside and managed to elicit from him the fact that the presentation of some honors would be involved."
"They will surely be a fine sight," Pierce said. "It seems that the smaller the country, the bigger the medals are. And I was assured by the same official that the past war between our country and the Britons would not be involved in this presentation. It seems that Queen Victoria is very touchy on that subject and King Leopold, who after all is her favorite uncle and constant corespondent, has no desire to offend her on that score. The awards will be for heroic actions that you gentlemen engaged in during our recent Civil War."
Grant smiled as he peered down at the plain blue chest of his infantryman's uniform. "It could surely do with a bit of smarting up."
They all looked up as Gustavus Fox, the Assistant Secretary of the Navy, let himself in through a connecting door. He was a man who kept a very low public profile; it was only at the very highest levels of government that it was known that he headed America's Secret Service. He nodded at them and held up a sheaf of papers.
"I hope that I am not interrupting, but is there time for a briefing, Mr. President?" he asked. "Some new and urgent information has just been made known to me."
Ambassador Pierce grunted slightly as he pulled his fob watch from the pocket in his well-rounded waistcoat. "More than enough time, I do believe. The carriages are not due to arrive here until noon."
"I hope that with a bit of luck you are bringing me some good news, Gus," the President said hopefully. "There never seems to be much of that."
"Well I am forced to admit that it is somewhat of a mixed bag, sir. Firstly-just two nights ago the British raided the harbor at the port of Kingstown in Ireland. This is the ferry port that is quite close to Dublin. They landed troops and the attackers burned the City Hall, as well as some of the harbor installations, then finished it all off by seizing and setting fire to some ships that were tied up there. The Irish believe that it was a terror raid, pure and simple, since it accomplished nothing but wanton destruction. It apparently was a clear reminder to the Irish that the British are still out there. As they left they exchanged shots with an Irish revenue cutter, but retreated back to sea before the troops from Dublin could arrive."
Lincoln shook his head with great unhappiness. "I feel that the timing of this action is deliberate one, that there is no coincidence here-since this intrusion has occurred just as our delegation was arriving in Belgium."
"I concur, Mr. President. It is obviously a simple message to us," Sherman said, his face cold, his pale eyes deadly. "They are telling us that they can strike at Ireland, whenever and wherever they please. And they will let no international conference stand in their way. It appears that their losses and defeat in America and Ireland have taught them nothing."
"I am afraid that yours is the most valid interpretation," Lincoln said with a great weariness. "But you said it was a mixed bag, Gus. Is there no good news in there? Can you pull nothing from your bundle that will bring cheer to a weary old man?"
Gus smiled and shuffled through the papers, drew out one sheet and passed it over to the President.
"This came in on the Navy packet that tied up in Ostend this morning. It is a personal report made to your cabinet by Mr. John Stuart Mill. They have forwarded this copy to you. If you will look, there, you will see that the Secretary of the Treasury has penned a personal note to you on the first page.
Lincoln nodded and read the opening aloud. "Yes, indeed, this will surely be of interest to all of you here. 'Mr. President. You will of course wish to acquaint yourself personally with the contents of this most valuable economic report. But permit me to sum it up in its entirety. I do believe that Mr. Mill's conclusions are not only very accurate, but inescapable as well. The American economy is booming, as it never has in the past. Our factories are working flat out, both in the industrialized North and in the new works that have been constructed in the South. It is evident now that everyone who wants a job is hard at work. The reconstruction and modernization of the railroads is almost complete. It is obvious what has happened. Due to the exigencies of war this country has been involuntarily changed from a being basically agrarian economy, to one that is rich with industry. Exports are rising, the railroads are being modernized and extended, while shipbuilding is at an all time record high. All in all, Mr. Mill is most enthusiast about this country's economic future. As am I. Yours faithfully, Salmon P. Chase.'"
Lincoln skipped through the report. "Most interesting, gentlemen. Mr. Mill appears to have been comparing production figures right around the world. Great Britain, the powerhouse of industry ever since the industrial revolution, had always led all of the other countries in strength and output. But no more! He believes that when the final figures are compared at the end of the year, that America will outstrip Britain on all fronts."
There were murmured agreements and when they died away Fox spoke again.
"With this inspiring news, Mr. President, do you think you can spare a few moments to meet with a delegation."
"Delegation? I made no appointments."
"They arrived at dawn this morning. I had the pleasure of their company at breakfast. It is President Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa of Ireland. With him is his Vice President Isaac Butt-while accompanying them is General Thomas Meagher. They say it is a matter of some urgency, and they hope that you will grant them a few moments of your time. They were, how shall I say it, greatly upset. I think it would be prudent if you could make the time to see them now."
"But you say that Tom Meagher is here? The last I heard he was stationed at Fort Bragg."
"No longer. Some months ago he was granted indefinite leave to go to Ireland, where he is advising the Irish army."
"We are pressed for time, Mr. President . . ." Pierce said, looking at his watch again.
Sherman's voice was icily cold. "We are not too pressed, I sincerely hope, to see the elected President of Ireland-and with him an old comrade who, in addition to his victories in Ireland, has fought long and hard for our country."
"Yes, of course, we must see them," Lincoln said. "By all means show them in."
"Shall we leave?" Grant asked.
"No-with Meagher here this matter must surely be of some importance to the military."
Lincoln stepped forward when the three men came in and took Rossa's hand. "We haven't met since your inauguration in Dublin," he said warmly. "I must say that it was quite an occasion, as well as being one that I will never forget."
"Nor shall I, Mr. President-for you speak the very truth-until the day I die I shall I shall always remember with great warmth the events of that gorgeous day. It was the first day of a springtime, if you will recall, that held out such great promise for our future. That promise is indeed being fulfilled. But, as you know, there have been many problems as well. There has been so much water under the bridge since that blessed occasion. But excuse me, sir, I digress. You will remember Vice President Butt?"
"Of course. I speak only the truth when I say, Mr. Butt, that yours, and the President's, is a most grave and important labor," Lincoln spoke as he took the Vice President's hand. "I do marvel every day at the glowing reports I read of your unifying and modernization of Ireland."
"It has been a mighty task indeed-but well worth every effort," Rossa said. His expression darkened as he went on. 'A task that has been made far more difficult by the continuing harassment by the enemy from the outside. Goodness knows that I, and the people of Ireland, have enough black memories. Our history has indeed been a long and dark one ever since the day when English troops first set foot in our poor country. Now I am most sure that I speak for every man in the country when I say let bygones be bygones. Enough of painful memories and ancient crimes. We Irish tend to live too much in the past and it is high time that we were done with that practice. The past is done with and shall not return. We must turn our backs on it and instead turn our faces towards the glowing sun of the future . . ."
"But they will not let us!" Isaac Butt broke in, cracking his knuckles resoundingly, so obsessed was he by the strength of his emotions. "The recent raid on Kingstown was but a pinprick among our greater sorrows. Ever day-day every hour-sees its like. There are constant landings in remote Irish seaports, where innocent Irishmen are killed and their small craft, their only possessions, are burned. Ships are stopped at sea as well, stopped and searched and many times they have their cargo confiscated. It as though we have a demon on our backs that cannot be removed, a curse from hell that cannot be lifted. The war was well won-yet it will not end. The British are indeed our demon possessor!"
General Meagher's quiet voice was in great contrast to Butt's impassioned plea, and the more damning because of that.
"And there is worse. We have had reports now of kidnapping and imprisonment in the city of Liverpool. We do not know the details-other than that something terrible is happening there. As you must know there are many Irish resident in the midlands, hard working people who have been many years resident there. But now it appears that the British question their loyalty. In the name of security, entire families have been rounded up and taken away by armed guards. And the worst part is that we cannot find what has happened to them. It is though they have vanished into the night. We have heard rumors about camps of some kind, but we can discover nothing factual. I do not deny that we have had agents among the Liverpool Irish-but that certainly cannot justify the arrest and detainment of innocent people. This a matter of guilt by association. Are the women and the children guilty as well? They are treated as such. And we have unconfirmed reports that other camps are being built across the breadth of England. Are these for the Irish too? I can only say, Mr. President, that this is a monumental crime against humanity."
"If what you say is true-and I have no reason to doubt you in the slightest-then I must agree with you," Lincoln said wearily as he found the couch and seated himself once again upon it. "But, gentlemen-what can we do about it? The American government can protest these crimes strongly-as indeed we have done in the past and shall do in the future. But beyond that-what can be done? I am afraid that I can read the British response already. This is only a civil matter, an internal one, of no concern to other nations." In the grim silence that followed, Lincoln turned to Meagher. "You, as a military officer, must recognize that this is also a not a situation that can be resolved by the military. Our hands are tied; there is nothing that can be done."
"Nothing . . ?" Meagher was not pleased with the notion and worked hard to conceal his dismay.
"Nothing," Sherman said firmly. "I speak not for myself, but as general of the armies. The war has ended and the world is at peace. The British are now doing their best to their best to provoke us, and they have certainly succeed in stirring our rage. They know that, after the recent war, we are concerned with Ireland and have a vested interests in Irish freedom. But does that mean that there is ample cause here to go to war again? I frankly do not think so. The British are careful to make this appear like an internal matter-over which we of course have no providence. You must remember that this day we are embarked on a most important civil mission of peaceful negotiation. The major nations of the world are assembling here in Brussels, and one can only wish them the best of successes. We can talk of war again only when our mission fails. None here wish that. But, with your permission, Mr. President, I can take a few moments with these gentlemen, and General Grant, to discuss what material assistance we can afford them. About the imprisonment of Irish people in camps in England-it is my frank belief that that there is nothing officially that can be done. But the other matters, the raids, halting vessels at sea, I can see where an American presence night alleviate some of the problems."
"We must leave here in half an hour," Pierce said, worriedly, consulting his watch.
"I regret that we have taken up your time," General Meagher said. "Thank you for seeing us, Mr. President."
"I must thank you for making the effort to come here and present us with details of the current unhappy Irish problems. Be assured that we will do everything in our power to alleviate them."
Gustavus Fox showed General Sherman and the visitors into an adjoining room, then remained with them to take notes. Lincoln shook his head wearily when they had gone. "I am beginning to feel like the feller that tried to catch the rainbow, and the faster he ran after it the faster it vanished away before him. I have had enough of war, yet I fear greatly for the peace. With men of strong will and determination in Britain, the matter of peace does indeed take second place."
"That is why we are gathered here in Brussels, Mr. President," Pierce said. "As the various delegates have arrived, I have taken the time to have had many confidential talks with them. It is my fond belief that all of them are united in their desire for peace and prosperity. Europe has had too much political unrest in recent years, not to mention the wars that have always plagued this continent. The overall feeling appears to be that we must all labor together to bring about some lasting peace."
Lincoln nodded and turned to the silent Grant who sat sternly on the front edge of his chair, with his hands resting on the hilt of his sword that was upright before him. "Is this the military view as well, general?" Lincoln asked.
"I can only speak for myself, sir. I believe in a world at peace-but I am afraid that not all men share that belief. The bloody history of this continent is mute witness to the ambitions and ancient hatreds of the countries here. Therefore he must consider the situation carefully-and must always be prepared for war, as little as we may desire it."
"And America is prepared?"
"She is indeed-at the present moment more so than ever before in our history. You read us Mr. Mill's letter. Certainly the manufacturers who supply and support our military strength are operating at full pace. But we should consider our military manpower as well. With the onset of peace many soldiers will find that their terms of enlistment are up. This is already beginning to happen. It is obvious that the lure of a return to their families will be great. If nothing is done we are going to see a dwindling away of our physical resources."
"Has not the regular army been expanded?"
"It has indeed, with enlistment bonuses and better pay and conditions, our forces have grown and increased greatly. But at the present time I must admit, in private to you gentlemen, there are not really enough divisions existent to engage in any major conflict."
Pierce was more interested in protocol than world politics, worried about being late. While Lincoln sat bemused, trying to understand the ramifications of General Grant's summation of the military situation, Pierce kept looking at his watch and fidgeting nervously. He relaxed only when General Sherman rejoined them.
"I am afraid that we must leave now, gentleman," Pierce said, opening the hall door and making small waving motions towards it, stepping aside as they passed. When he walked out after them Fox, remained behind, then closed the door.
The America mission with all their officials, clerks and functionaries occupied the entire second floor of the Brussels Grand Mercure hotel. When Abraham Lincoln and his party exited the rooms they saw before them the magnificent sweep of the wide marble staircase that dropped down to the lobby. There was a growing murmur of voices from below when Lincoln and his party appeared at the top of the staircase.
"We are indeed expected," he said, looking down into the lobby of the hotel.
From the foot of the stairs, stretching away to the outside door, two rows of soldiers, to either side of a crimson carpet, stood at stiff attention. Silver cuirassed and magnificently unformed, they were an honor guard, all of them officers of the household regiments. Beyond them, outside the glass doors, a magnificent carriage was just drawing up. The soldiers themselves, standing to attention, their swords on their shoulders, were silent, but not so the crowd that filled the lobby behind them. Elegantly dressed men and women pushed forward, all eager to see the President of the United States, the man who had led his country to such resounding victories. A small cheer arose when Lincoln's party appeared.
The President stopped a moment to acknowledge the reception and raised his tall stovepipe hat. Sat in back in place and tapped it firmly into position-then led the way down the stairs. Generals Sherman and Grant were close behind him, while Ambassador Pierce brought up the rear. They made their way slowly down the steps, then across the lobby towards the open doors.
There was a murmur from the crowd and a disturbance of some kind. Suddenly, shockingly, apparently pushed from behind, one of the ranked officers fell forward onto the floor with a mighty crash. As he fell a man, dressed in black, pushed through the sudden opening in the ranks of the soldiers.
"Sic semper tyrannis!" he shouted loudly.
At the same moment he raised the pistol he was carrying and fired at the President, who was just a few paces away from him.
It was a moment frozen in time. The fallen Belgian officer was on his hands and knees; the other soldiers still stood at attention, still obeying their last command. Lincoln, shocked by the sudden appearance of the gunman from the crowd stopped, took a half-step back.
As the pistol in the stranger's hand came up-and fired.
The unexpected is the expected in war. While both of these general officers accompanying the President had had more than their fill of war, they were still seasoned veterans of many conflicts and had survived them all. Without conscious thought they reacted, they did not hesitate.
General Grant, who was closest to the President, hurled himself between his Commander-in-Chief and the assassin's gun. Fell back as the bullet struck home.
There was no second shot.
General Sherman had seized his scabbard in his left hand at first sight of the pistol and, with his right hand, had pulled the sword free. In one continuous motion the point of the sword came up as he took a long step forward and, without hesitation, thrust the gleaming weapon into the attacker's heart. Drew it out as the man dropped to the floor. Stood over him, sword poised and ready, but there was no movement. He kicked the revolver from the man's limp fingers, sent it skidding across the marble floor.
Someone screamed, shrilly, over and over again, and the frozen moment was over. The officer in charge of the honor guard shouted commands and the uniformed men drew up in a circle around the President's party, facing outwards, swords at the ready. Lincoln, shaken at the sudden ferocity of the unexpected attack, looked down at the wounded general stretched out on the marble floor. He shook himself, as though struggling to understand what had happened, then took off his coat, folded it, bent over and placed it under Grant's head. Grant scowled down at the blood seeping from his wounded right arm, started to sit up, then winced with the effort. He cradled his wounded arm in his left hand to ease the pain.
"The ball appears to still be in there," he said. "It looks like the bone stopped it from going on through."
"Will someone get a doctor," Lincoln shouted above the din of raised voices.
Sherman stood above the body of the man he had just killed, looked out at the milling crowd which was pulling back from the ring of cuirassed officers who now faced them with drawn swords ready. Satisfied now that the assassin had been alone he wiped the blood from his sword on the tail of the dead man's coat. Slipped the sword back into its scabbard, then bent and rolled the body onto its back. The white-skinned face, the long dark hair seemed very familiar. He continued to stare at it even when one of the officers handed him the still-cocked assassin's revolver. He carefully let the hammer down and put it into his pocket.
The circle of protecting soldiers drew apart to admit a rotund little man carrying a doctor's bag. He opened the bag and took out a large pair of shears, then proceeded to cut away the sleeve of Grant's jacket, then the blood sodden fabric of his shirt. With a metal pick he bent to probe delicately at the wound. Grant's face turned white and the muscles stood out on the sides of his jaw, but he said nothing. The doctor carefully bandaged the wound to stop the bleeding, then called out in French for assistance, a table, something to carry the wounded man. Lincoln stepped aside as uniformed servants pushed forward to aid the doctor, turned to face General Sherman who called out to him.
"I know this man," Sherman said, pointing down at the body of the assassin upon the floor. "I watched him for three hours, from the front row of the balcony in Ford's Theatre. He is an actor. The one who played in Our American Cousin. His name is John Wilkes Booth."
"We were going to see that play," Lincoln said, suddenly very tired. "But that was before Mary was taken ill. Did you hear the words that he called out before he fired? I could not understand them."
"That was Latin, Mr. President. What he shouted out was 'Sic semper tyrannis.' It is the motto of the state of Virginia. It means something like-thus always to tyrants."
"A Southern sympathizer! To have come all this way from America, to have crossed the ocean just to attempt to kill me. It is beyond reason that a person could be filled with such hatred."
"Feelings in the South still run deep as you know, Mr. President. Sad as it is to say there are many who will never forgive you for stopping their secession." Sherman looked up and saw that a door had been produced and that Grant, his bandaged arm secured across his chest, was being lifted carefully onto it. Sherman stepped forward to take charge and ordered that the wounded Grant be taken to their suite of rooms on the floor above. He knew that a military surgeon accompanied their official party-and Sherman had more faith in him than any foreign sawbones who might appear here.
It was silent in the bedroom once the servants had left, and the closed doors had shut out the clamorous crowd. From the bed where he had been carefully placed Grant waved to Sherman with his good arm.
"That was a mighty fine thrust. But then you were always good at fencing at the Point. Do you always keep your dress sword so sharpened?"
"A weapon is always a weapon."
"True enough-and I shall remember your advice. But Cumph, let me tell you, I have not been drinking of late, as you know. However I never travel unprepared, so if you don't mind I am going to make an exception just this one time. I hope you will agree that these are unusual circumstances."
"I can't think of anything more unusual."
"Good. Why then you'll find a stone crock of the best corn in that wardrobe thing in my room . . ."
"Good as done."
As he stood up there was a quick knock on the door. Sherman let the doctor in, a gray-haired major with years of field experience, and went to find the crock. While he was away the surgeon, with a skill born of battlefield practice, found the pistol bullet and extracted it. Along with a patch of coat and shirt material that had been carried into the wound by the ball. He was just finishing up rebandaging the wound when Sherman returned with the stone jug and two glasses.
"Bone's bruised but not broken," the surgeon said. "The wound is clean, I'm binding it up in its own blood. There should be no complications." As soon as the doctor let himself out, Sherman poured two full glasses from the crock.
Grant sighed deeply as he emptied his glass; color quickly returned to his gray cheeks.
The President and Ambassador Pierce came in just as he was finishing a second tumbler; Pierce was flustered and sweating profusely. Lincoln was his usual calm self.
"I hope that you feel as well as you look, General Grant. I greatly feared for you," he said.
"I'm not making light of it, Mr. President, but I been shot a lot worse before. And the doctor here says it will heal fast. I'm sorry to ruin the party."
"You saved my life," Lincoln said, his voice filled with deep emotion. "For which I will be ever grateful."
"Any soldier would have done the same, sir. It is our duty."
Suddenly very weary, Lincoln sat down heavily on the bench by the bed. "Did you get off that message?" he asked, turning to Pierce.
"I did, sir. On your official stationary. Explaining to King Leopold just what had happened. A messenger took it. But I wondered, Mr. President. Would you like to send another message explaining that you won't be able to attend the reception tonight at the Palais du Roi?"
"Nonsense. General Grant may be indisposed, but he, and General Sherman, have seen to it that I am fit as a fiddle. This entire unhappy affair must have a satisfactory end. We must show them that Americans are made of sterner stuff. This attempt at assassination must not be allowed to deter us, to prevent us from accomplishing our mission here."
"If we are going to the reception, may I ask a favor, sir?" Sherman said. "Since General Grant will not be able to attend, I would like to ask General Meagher to go in his place. He is not due to return to Ireland until tomorrow."
"An excellent idea. I am sure that no assassins will lurk in the palace. But after this morning I must admit that I will feel that much more comfortable with you officers in blue at my side."
Sherman remained with Grant when the others left. Sharing a bit of the corn likker. Grant who, after years of heavy drinking, had given it up when he resumed his military career, was now not used to the ardent spirit. His eyes soon closed and he was asleep. Sherman let himself out and the infantry captain stationed in the hall outside snapped to attention.
"General Grant, sir. May I ask how he is doing?"
"Well, very well indeed. A simple flesh wound and the ball removed. Has there been no official statement?"
"Of course, General. Mr. Fox read it out to us-I had one of my men bring a copy to the palace. But it was quite brief and just said that there had been an attempt on the President's life and that General Grant was wounded in the attempt. The attacker was killed before he could fire again. That's all it said."
"I believe that is enough."
The captain took a deep breath and looked around, before he spoke again in a lowered voice. "The rumor is you took him with your sword, general. A single thrust through the heart . . ."
Sherman ought to be angry with the man; he smiled instead. "For once a rumor is true, captain."
"Well done, sir, well done!"
Sherman waved away the man's heartfelt congratulations. Turned and went to his room. Always after combat he was drymouthed with thirst. He drank glass after glass of water from the carafe on the side table. It had been a close run thing. He would never forget the sight of Booth pushing forward between the soldiers, the black revolver coming up. But it was all over. The threat removed; the only casualty being Grant injured and left with a badly wounded arm. It could have been a lot worse.
That night a closed carriage was sent for the American party who entered it as soon as it arrived. And, not by chance, it was surrounded by a troop of cavalry as it made its way across the Grand-Place and past the H“tel de Ville. They drew up before the Palace du Roi. The two generals exited first, stood close beside the President as they climbed the red-carpeted steps: Pierce following behind. Once they were inside, Pierce hurried ahead of the rest of the American party as they entered the hall, whispered urgently to the majordomo who was to announce them. There was a moment of silence when Lincoln's name was called out; all eyes were upon him in the crowded hall. Then there was a quick flutter of clapping and then the buzz of conversation was resumed. A waiter with a tray of champagne glasses approached them as they entered the large reception room. All of the other brilliantly clad guests seemed to be holding a glass, so the Americans followed suite.
"Weak stuff," General Meagher muttered, draining his glass and trying to see if the waiter was about with another.
Lincoln smiled and just touched the glass to his lips as he looked around. "Now see the large man in that group of officers over there, I do believe that is someone I have met before." He nodded in the direction of the imposing, red-faced man, dressed in an ornate pink uniform, who was pushing through the crowd towards them. Three other uniformed officers were close behind him. "I do believe that he is a Russian admiral with a name I have completely forgotten."
"You are President, we meet once in your Washington City," the admiral said, stopping before Lincoln as he seized his hand in his own immense paw. "I am Admiral Paul S. Makhimov, you remember. You people they sink plenty British ships, then they kill British soldiers . . . very good! These my staff."
The three accompanying officers clicked their heels and bowed as one. Lincoln smiled and managed to extricate his hand from the admiral's clasp.
"But that war is over, admiral," he said. "Like the Russians, the Americans are now at peace with the world."
As the President spoke one of the Russian officers had come forward and extended his hand to Sherman, who had, perforce, to take it.
"You must be congratulated, General Sherman, on a brilliant and victorious campaign," he said in perfect English.
"Thank you-but I'm afraid that I didn't catch your name."
"Captain Alexander Igoreivich Korzhenevski," the officer said, releasing Sherman's hand and bowing yet again. As he did so, while his head was lowered, he spoke, softly, so that only General Sherman could hear him. "I must meet with you in private."
He straightened up and smiled, white teeth standing out against his black beard.
Sherman had no idea what this was about-though he dearly wanted to know. He thought quickly, then brushed his hand across his moustache, spoke quietly when his mouth was covered.
"I am in room one eighteen in the hotel Grand Mercure. The door will be unlocked at eight tomorrow morning." There was nothing more that could be said and the Russian officer moved away. Sherman turned back to his party and did not see the captain again.
General Sherman sipped his champagne and thought about the curious encounter. What had caused him to respond so quickly to the unusual request? Perhaps it was the officer's command of English. But what could it all be about? Should he be armed when he unlocked the door? No, that was nonsense; after this day's events it appeared that he had assassination on his brain. It was obvious that the Russian officer wanted to communicate something, had some message that could not go through normal channels without others being aware of what was happening. Well if that was the case, he knew just the man to ask about it.
The reception and the presentations, the bowing and saluting, went on far into the night. Only after the Americans had been introduced to King Leopold could they even think about leaving. Happily, the meeting with the king was brief.
"Mr. President Lincoln, it is my great pleasure to meet you at last."
"It is mine as well, your majesty."
"And your health-it is good?" The King's eyes widened ever so slightly.
"Never better. It must be the salubrious air of your fine country. I feel as comfortable here as I would at home in my own parlor."
The kind nodded vaguely at this. Then his attention was drawn and he turned away.
Once they had been dismissed, the President rounded up his party. It was after midnight and they were all tired. Not so apparently, was the Belgian cavalry officer who commanded the troopers who accompanied their carriage back to the hotel. Spurred on by his shouted commands they surrounded the carriage, sabers drawn and ready, warily on guard. The streets were empty, echoing the clattering hoofbeats of their mounted guards; a strangely reassuring sound. As soon as he had left the others at the hotel, General Sherman went and pounded on Gustavus Fox's door.
"Duty calls, Gus. You better wake up."
The door opened immediately. Gus was in his shirtsleeves; lamps illuminated a table strewn with papers. "Sleep is only for the wicked," he said. "Come in and tell me what brings you around at this hour."
"An international mystery-and it appears to be right down your line of work."
Gus listened to the description of the brief encounter in silence; nodded vigorously and enthusiastically when Sherman was done."
"You have given this officer the perfect response, general. Anything to do with the Russians is of vital interest to us right now-or at any time for that matter. Ever since the Crimean War they have had no love for the British. They were invaded and fought very hard in their own defense. But it is not only Britain that they see as the enemy-but almost every other country in Europe. In their own defense they have a superb spy network, and I must say that they make the most of it. I can now tell you that a few years ago they actually stole the plans for the most secret, British rifled 100-pound cannon. They actually had the American gunsmith Parrott make them a replica. Now we discover that an English speaking officer on the admiral's staff wants to meet with you in private. Admirable!"
"What should I do about it?"
"Unlock your door at eight in the morning-then see what happens. With your permission I will join you in this dawn adventure."
"I wouldn't have it any other way-since this is your kind of game and not mine."
"I shall be there at seven-which is only a few hours from now. Get some sleep."
"You as well. And when you come, why see that you bring a large pot of coffee with you. This has been a long day-and I feel that it is going to be an even longer one tomorrow."
The knock on the door aroused Sherman. He was awake at once; his years of campaigning in the field had prepared him for action at any hour. He pulled on his trousers and opened the door. Gus stepped aside and waved the hotel servant past him-who pushed a table laden with coffee, hot rolls, butter and preserves.
"We shall wait in comfort," Gus said.
"We shall indeed." Sherman nodded and smiled, when he noticed that there were three cups on the table. When the waiter had bowed himself out they saw to it that the door remained unlocked. Then they sat by the window and sipped their coffee while Brussels slowly came to life outside.
It was just at a few minutes past eight when the hall door opened and closed quickly. The tall man in a dark suit locked the door behind him before he turned to face the room. He nodded at General Sherman, then turned to face Gus.
"I am Count Alexander Igoreivich Korzhenevski. And you will be . . .?"
"Gustavus Fox, Assistant Secretary of the Navy."
"How wonderful-the very man I wanted to contact." He saw Gus's sudden frown and waved away his concern. "I assure you, I am alone in my knowledge of your existence and will never reveal that information to a soul. I have been associated with Russian Naval Intelligence for many years and we have a certain friend in common. Commander Schulz."
Gus smiled at this and took the Count's hand. "A friend indeed." He turned to the puzzled Sherman. "It was Commander Schulz who brought us the plans of the British breech loading cannon that I told you about." With a sudden thought he turned back to Korzhenevski. "You would not, by any chance, be associated with that affair?"
"Associated? My dear Mr. Fox-at the risk of appearing too forward, I must admit that I was the one who managed to purloin them in the first place. You must understand that in my youth I attended The Royal Naval College in Greenwich. Graduated from that admirable institution, having made many friends there down though the years. I am forced to admit that I am fairly well known throughout the British Navy. So much so that old shipmates still refer to me as Count Iggy. Someone not too bright, but very rich and well known as an ever-flowing font of champagne."
"Well Count Iggy," Sherman said. "I have only coffee to offer you now. Please do sit and have some. Then, perhaps, you will enlighten us as to the reason for this sub rosa encounter."
"I will be most delighted, general, delighted!"
The Count took the chair furthest from the window and nodded his thanks when Fox passed him a cup of coffee. He sipped a bit before he spoke.
"My greatest indulgence these days is in my little boat, the Aurora. I suppose you would call her more of a yacht than a boat. A steam launch, since I never could master all of those ropes and lines and sails and things that most sailors are so fond of. It is really quite jolly to fool about in. Makes traveling here and there and everywhere most easy as well. People admire her lines but rarely query her presence."
Sherman nodded. "That is most interesting Count, but-"
"But why am I telling you this, you are wondering? I do have my reasons-but first I most first bore you with some of my family history. History tells us that the Korzhenevskis were glorious but impoverished Polish nobility, until my great-grandfather chose to join the navy of Peter the Great in 1709. He had served with great valor in the Swedish navy, but was more than happy to change sides when the Swedes were defeated by the Russians. He was still in the service when Peter expanded the Russian navy, and my reading of our family history reveals that his career was a most distinguished one. My great-grandfather, who was also very much a linguist, learned English and actually attended the British Royal Naval College in Greenwich. Very much the anglophile, he married into the lesser nobility who, impoverished as they were, considered him a great catch. Ever since then our family, in St. Petersburg, has been very English orientated. I grew up speaking both languages and, like the eldest son of each generation, attended the Greenwich Naval College. So there you have it-you see before you an Englishman in all but name."
His smile vanished and his face darkened as he leaned forward and spoke in a barely audible voice. "But that is no more. When the British attacked my country I felt betrayed, wronged. On the surface I still amuse and entertain my English friends, because that role suits me best. But deep inside me, you must understand, is the fact that I loathe them-and would do anything to bring about their destruction. When they attacked your country-and you defeated them-my heart sang with happiness. May I now call you my friends; because we are joined in a common cause. And please believe me when I say that I will do anything to advance that cause."
Deep in thought Gus rose and put his empty cup on the table, turned and smiled warmly.
"That is a very generous offer, sir. Do you think you might consider a little ocean cruise?"
The Count's smile mirrored his. "I might very well indeed. I was thinking of tootling up the Thames to Greenwich. I have some classmates still stationed there. Might I invite you to join me? Aurora is getting a refit in Hamburg just now: I intend to join her in a week's time. I shall then sail her to Ostend. Please think about this and when you make a decision please leave a note for me at the desk some time today, since I will be leaving at dawn tomorrow. A yes or a no will suffice. And I do hope that you will say 'yes'. An in addition, you must excuse me, I do hate to be personal-but I must tell you that there are almost no redheads in Russia."
He rose and put down his cup, turning once again to Gus. "If I could bother you-to look down the hall. It is important that we must not be seen together."
The hall was empty and, with a cheery wave, the Count was gone and Gus locked the door behind him. Sherman poured himself some more coffee and shook his head.
"I'm a simple man of war, Gus, and all this kind of thing is beyond me. Would you kindly tell me what that was all about."
"It was about military intelligence!" Gus was too excited to sit and paced the room as he spoke. "By revealing himself as an intimate of Schulz he was letting us know that he has experience and training as-well not to put it too fine-as a spy. He also believes that Britain and America may go to war again and has offered us assistance in preparing for that eventuality."
"So that's what all that strange talk was about. He wants you to join him in snooping around the British Isles?"
"Not me alone. Remember-it was you he contacted. He wants to give you an opportunity to see for yourself what the British defenses are like. If another war is forced upon us we must be prepared for anything. An intimate knowledge of the coast defenses and major waterways of that country would be of incalculable aid in planning a campaign."
"I begin to see what you mean. But it sounds pretty desperate. I don't think that I would relish going to sea in the Count's ship. We will have to hide below decks during the daylight hours and emerge like owls after dark."
"That we will not! If we go, why we are going to be Russian officers. Swilling champagne on deck and saying 'Da! Da!' Of course you will have to dye your beard black, the Count was very firm about that. Do you think that you can manage that-tovarich?"
Sherman rubbed his jaw in thought.
"So that's what the bit concerning red hair was about." He smiled. "Da," he said. "I think I can manage almost anything, if it means that I can take a look at the British defenses and wartime preparation."
With sudden enthusiasm Sherman jumped to his feet and slammed his fist down so hard on the table that the plates and saucers bounced.
"Let's do it!"