Lee nodded gravely Your mother died early. I remember her well. Your father, as I recall, was somewhat of a duellist.
Thats an understatement.
And the elder brother, your uncle?
On my grandfathers death, he inherited an estate in the west of Ireland. He had a plantation only twenty miles from here. Left it in the hands of a manager.
So what happens now? Lee asked.
God knows, General. What happens to all of us?
Its simple, Clay. Ive had contact with Grant. We meet at Appomattox tomorrow to discuss surrender terms. He brooded. Grant and I served in the Mexican Wars together. Ironic its ended this way. He shrugged. Hes a good soldier and an honourable man. Ive already made it clear in a communication that I want all of my men who own their own horses to keep them.
And hes agreed?
Yes.
There was a moan from Brown lying on the truckle bed in the corner. Josh, who had been sitting on watch, got an arm around him as the young captain sat up. Clay went to him at once.
How do you feel?
Terrible.
Come and sit by the fire.
Ill get him some coffee, Josh said, and went out.
Brown slumped into a chair, and Lee asked, Are you all right, boy?
Fine, sir. Hurts like hell, but there it is. He turned to Clay. My thanks, Colonel.
My pleasure.
I was hoping to meet you. Your uncle had a house near here. Fairoaks?
Thats right. He went to Ireland and left a manager in charge.
Well, he used to have a house. Burned to the ground by Yankee cavalry. I passed it two days ago. One of the field hands had a letter. Some lawyer from Savannah called, looking for you. Said hed be at Butlers Tavern for a week. Name of Regan.
I know Butlers Tavern. Its about thirty miles from here.
The letter said if he couldnt get you there, hed be in Savannah. You know this man?
Clay nodded. My father was a blockade-runner. Regan managed his affairs.
Sorry I dont have the letter, Colonel. We were in a skirmish with Yankee cavalry just after I got it, and it disappeared.
Thats fine, Clay said. Youve told me what I need to know.
Josh came in with coffee in a tin cup and gave it to Brown. Clay turned to Lee. What now, sir?
For me, Clay, Appomattox and the final end of our cause. Humiliation, of course, but I see no need for you and your men to endure it. You have family business to attend to. I think Id prefer it if you and your men simply faded into the night. I should think that in ones and twos youd have little difficulty in passing through the Yankee lines, especially in such wooded country.
Is that your order, General?
My suggestion. Lee held out a hand. We ran a good course, my friend. Just go.
The emotion was hard to bear. Clay shook hands. General. He turned and walked out and Josh followed.
He found his men under the trees, sheltering under two stretched tarpaulins beside a fire. Sergeant Jackson stood up.
Whats happening, General?
Not general any longer. Back to colonel, boys. Ive seen General Lee. He carries on to Appomattox tomorrow, where he will surrender to General Grant. There was a stunned silence from the men. Its over, boys.
Young Corporal Tyree said, But what are we going to do, Colonel? All I know is the war. I joined at fourteen.
I know, Corporal. General Lees suggestion is that we slip away in small groups, pass through the Yankee lines and go home. He turned to Josh. The money bag.
Josh produced a leather purse from the bottom of the surgical bag. Here you go, Colonel.
Clay handed it to Sergeant Jackson. One hundred English gold sovereigns. Distribute it equally. Its the best I can do, and dont lets prolong this. Its too painful.
Colonel. Jacksons voice was a whisper as he took the money.
Clay walked away, then turned. Its been an honour to serve with you. Now get the hell out of here, and he turned again and walked away through the rain.
The rain continued like a Biblical deluge. It was as if the end of the world had come, which, in effect, it had, as Lees army struggled toward Appomattox, and it was late afternoon when Clay and Josh emerged from the trees on the bluff above Butlers Tavern. It was on the other side of the stream below, an old rambling building of stone, single-storeyed and with a shingle roof. Smoke curled out of the great stone chimney at the eastern end.
Looks quiet enough to me, Colonel, Josh observed.
Well, keep your hand on that shotgun just in case, and Clay urged his horse down the slope.
They splashed across the ford and advanced to the hitching rail, where two mounts stood in the pouring rain, still saddled.
A poor way to treat good horseflesh, Josh said.
Yes, well not ours, Clay told him and dismounted, handing him his reins. Put them in the barn, Josh, then join me inside. Some hot food and a drink wouldnt come amiss. Ill see if Regan is here.
Josh wheeled away and Clay went up the steps to the porch, opened the door and passed inside.
There was a log fire in a great stone fireplace, a bar with a slate top, bottles on the shelves behind. A young girl stood behind the bar, drying some glasses. She was no more than eighteen, her straggling hair tied up, and she wore an old gingham frock. Her face was swollen, as if she had been weeping.
Two men sat at a table by the window wolfing down stew from well-filled tin plates. They were both unshaven and wore shabby blue infantry uniforms. They stopped eating as Clay paused, and took in his grey uniform and Dragoon Colt in the black holster. He looked them over as if they werent there and walked to the bar, spurs clinking.
Mr Holt, the owner, is he around?
Killed three days ago, sir, riding back from town. Someone shot him out of the saddle. Im his niece, Sybil.
Have you anyone to help?
Two young black boys worked the stables, sir, but theyve run away.
One of the men at the table sniggered, the other laughed then said, Hey, bitch, another bottle of whiskey here.
Clay turned to face them. I figure Im first in line here. Show some manners.
One of them, the one with a red kerchief round his neck, started to his feet, and Clay put a hand on the butt of the Dragoon. The man subsided, eyes wild.
Clay said to the girl, I was looking for a friend, a Mr Regan?
He has a room at the back, sir.
Would you be kind enough to tell him Colonel Clay Fitzgerald is here?
Ill do that, sir.
She went through to the back and Clay moved behind the bar, took down a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, as the door opened and Josh entered, water dripping from the brim of his hat.
Taken care of, Colonel, and I took pity on those two mounts outside, put em in the barn, too.
The two men stopped eating and the one with the red kerchief at his neck said, Niggers stand outside in the rain, thats their proper place, and I dont take kindly to you touching my horse, boy.
Clay laid his Dragoon on the bar, and poured two glasses of whiskey. Over here, Josh. A young ladys gone for Regan. Somebody shot Holt.
Clay laid his Dragoon on the bar, and poured two glasses of whiskey. Over here, Josh. A young ladys gone for Regan. Somebody shot Holt.
Josh produced the sawn-off from his left pocket and came forward. He took one of the glasses and savoured the whiskey.
Now I wonder who would have done a thing like that, Colonel.
At that moment, young Sybil appeared, Regan behind her, a small, bearded man of middle years, wearing steel-rimmed glasses. He grasped Clays hand warmly.
Colonel, a pleasure to see you alive. He turned to Josh. And you, Joshua.
Youve news for me, I believe, Clay said. You left word at Fairoaks.
Thats right. Lets sit down.
He drew Clay to the fire and sat opposite him. Josh leaned against the wall, watching the two men. Sybil stayed behind the bar, drying glasses.
I had business in the area, Clay, and hoped youd be close to Lee, and I wanted to check out things at Fairoaks.
Its not good, I hear.
Burned to the ground by Yankee cavalry. Nothing for you there, Clay.
Never thought there would be.
The thing is, Ive got more bad news. Your uncle Sean died a month ago and left you no money, only two properties: Fairoaks, burned to the ground, and Claremont, the old family house in Ireland that he returned to when your grandfather died. In a manner of speaking, its suffered a similar fate. Its half burned to the ground.
What are you telling me?
Theres trouble in Ireland these days, lots of trouble. Rebels who call themselves Fenians, who want to throw the English out.
But my uncle was Irish American.
Who owned a big house, a large estate. The aristocracys seen to be on the side of the establishment.
Hell, at the end of it, what does it matter? Clay told him. Two burned-out properties. I end up with nothing.
Not really, Regan said. Ive got documents with me for you to sign, relating to your uncles estate. Then I need you in Savannah.
And why would that be?
To appear before Judge Archie Dean for your identity to be accepted by the court at the request of the Bank of England in London.
There was a pause. Why? Clay persisted.
Your father made a fortune blockade-running, Clay, but he was always foxy and he knew the South would lose. So, he deposited his funds in London and some in Paris.
Clay said, What are we talking about?
Well, forget about American currency. Confederate money is a joke and the dollar is strained. If we stick with pounds sterling, Id say theres somewhere over a million. There was silence as Clay stared at him, and Regan said lamely, Of course, I do have my fees.
Clay looked up at Josh in astonishment, and behind them, the man in the red kerchief snarled at Sybil, Hey, bitch, lets have another bottle.
She hesitated, then took one down from a shelf and came from behind the bar. As she reached the table, the other man grabbed her, pulled her on his knee and yanked up her skirt. She cried out.
Josh said, God, how I hate that.
Clay stood up, walked forward and produced the Dragoon. He rammed the muzzle into the forehead of the one fondling the girl. Let her go now or Ill blow your brains out.
The man released his grip slowly, Sybil slipped away. Red Kerchief said, No offence, Colonel.
Oh, but you have offended me, Clay told him. Take their pistols, Josh. Josh complied and Clay stood back. Out we go, straight to the barn, and be sensible. Just ride away.
They stood glaring at him, then turned and walked out through the door, Clay and Josh following them. Clay stayed on the porch and watched Josh take them to the barn, shotgun ready. They went inside. A few moments later, they emerged on horseback.
Damn you to hell, Colonel! Red Kerchief called, and they rode away.
Josh turned and moved back to the porch.
In the darkness beyond the fence, Red Kerchief turned and reached into his saddlebag, taking out a Colt. You got your spare? he demanded.
I sure as hell do, his companion said.
Then lets take them, and they turned and galloped back out of the darkness, already firing.
Josh turned, dropping to one knee, and gave Red Kerchief both barrels. Clays Dragoon came up in one smooth motion and he shot the other out of the saddle.
Sybil and Regan came out of the door behind and Clay said, No problem, child, well dispose of the bodies before we leave.
Regan said, You all right, Clay?
Not really, Clay said. Ive been killing people for four years. Frankly, I could do with a change.
Joshua walked back, reloading his shotgun. What kind of a change, Colonel?
Clay holstered his Dragoon, took a cheroot from his silver box and lit it. He blew out smoke. Josh, he said, how would you like to go to Ireland?
IRELAND 18651
The coach lurched violently to one side as a wheel dipped into a pothole and the luggage piled upon the opposite seat was thrown against the man sleeping in the far corner, hat tilted forward over his eyes.
Clay awakened as the vehicle came to a halt. They had been four hours on this apology for a road, and since leaving Galway conditions had got steadily worse.
He glanced out of the window at the rain soaking into the ground. The road ran through a narrow valley beside a small stream, with a scattering of trees on the far side shrouded in mist. He opened the door and stepped down into the mud.
Joshua said, Correct me if Im wrong, Colonel, but I always understood you to say that Europe was civilized.
He wore a heavy greatcoat buttoned tightly to his chin and a horse blanket was draped across his knees. Rain dripped steadily from the brim of his felt hat as he sat with the reins of the coach in his hands.
Clay turned slowly and grinned. This is Ireland, he said. My father always told me God made things a little bit different here.
Joshua wiped rain from his face with one sleeve. Id say the good Lord forgot about this place a long time ago, Colonel. Im beginning to wonder what were doing here.
So am I, Josh, Clay told him. So am I. As the rain increased in force with a sudden rush, he continued, You look like a drowned rat. Better let me take over for a while and you can ride inside.
Im so wet already, it doesnt make any difference, Joshua said.
Clay shook his head. No arguments. Come down and get inside. Thats an order.
His tone brooked no denial and Joshua sighed, threw back the blanket and started to clamber down. At that moment, two horsemen moved out of the trees and splashed across the stream.
The leader reined in sharply so that his horse danced sideways on its hind legs, crowding Clay against the side of the coach and splashing him with mud. A shock of yellow hair showed beneath the brim of his battered hat, and the eyes above the red bandana which covered the lower half of his face were vivid blue. His rough coat was buttoned up to the neck and he held a shotgun crooked in his left arm.