Read Online Long Knife by JAMES ALEXANDER Thom - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: JAMES ALEXANDER Thom
Ads: Link
sure to try your every resource. God be with you, and however much you trust in yourself, never be too proud to get down on your knees to Him. Do you understand me?”
“I do, sir.”
“Even if you succeed in this, there’s no excusing pride.”
“I shall succeed in it, sir …. But I hasten to add that I state that out of confidence,
not
pride.”
Mason grinned at him with tight-bitten lips, gripped his broad shoulders with both hands and made as if to shake him. “You’re solid as an oak. I’m so pleased with you!”
George opened his coat pocket and drew forth two silver medallions, one depicting a wrestler, one a runner. “D’you remember these, sir?”
Mason beamed. “Aye! You still keep them! Well, I am touched!” Eyes filling, he smoothed between thumbs and forefingers the trophies he had awarded George more than ten years ago, then handed them back.
Mr. Wythe came over then, crisp and dry as a lawbook, pale-faced under his powdered wig, with the physique of a sparrow and the beak of an eagle. He was one of the men who had signed the Declaration of Independence and, like Mason, had been a member of the Constitutional Convention. Clark respectedand appreciated him, but felt no warm attachment to him as he did to all the others.
“I should like to assure you,” said Wythe, “that Tom and George and I are drafting our letter guaranteeing those rewards of land we discussed to the volunteers in your expedition. Three hundred acres to each, in addition to their usual pay, if you succeed. And proportionately more to the officers by rank, of course.” He paused and gave a small wry smile which reminded Clark of a tenderfoot at Harrodsburg the previous fall who had eaten an unripe persimmon; it was difficult not to laugh. “I don’t envy you, my boy,” Wythe went on, “when you finally
do
tell your recruits where you’re taking them.”
Clark looked down at Wythe and nodded. “I’ve given that occasion a great deal of forethought. I agree. It’s going to require a strong hand and a wise head. I think I have the hand,” he mused, raising his big, brown, long-fingered right hand, watching it close to a hard fist, then open. “I reckon I shall have to trust in Providence to give me the wisdom.”
“As all must,” Wythe said. He was blinking, and his lips had gone a bit unsteady. Clark was surprised, seeing this first outward sign of any sentiment in Wythe. And suddenly, after all these weeks of meetings, he felt at last a bridge of warmth across the reserve of this great jurist.
Wythe gripped his hand, and with his left palm squeezed his elbow. “By God, sir,” he breathed, “if I were younger, I would go with you!” And then he stepped quickly away and gazed into the fire.
G EORGE ORDERED THE CARRIAGE STOPPED WHILE STILL SEVERAL blocks from the inn, and climbed out to walk the rest of the way. He was simply too charged with energy and anxiety to sit any longer in a conveyance.
The carriage rattled away over the cobblestones into the darkness, disappearing and reappearing at intervals as it passed through the small pools of lamplight. It was late. Most house windows were dark. He stood in the blackness for a few minutes, clenching and opening his hands, inhaling the bitter cold air through his clenched teeth, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and looking above the rooftops and chimneypots at the lucid cold stars. He put his right hand inside his cloak to lay his palm on the letter of secret instructions Governor Henry had given him, and felt as well the rapid thudding of his heart.
It had been this way ever since he left the four great conspiratorsat the governor’s residence: He had been calm while there, somehow as calm and authoritative and confident as those august men, or even more; but once alone he had grown as taut and vibrant as a fiddle string, heart and imagination racing, his whole body silently shrieking its need for release through action.
He began walking
“I do, sir.”
“Even if you succeed in this, there’s no excusing pride.”
“I shall succeed in it, sir …. But I hasten to add that I state that out of confidence,
not
pride.”
Mason grinned at him with tight-bitten lips, gripped his broad shoulders with both hands and made as if to shake him. “You’re solid as an oak. I’m so pleased with you!”
George opened his coat pocket and drew forth two silver medallions, one depicting a wrestler, one a runner. “D’you remember these, sir?”
Mason beamed. “Aye! You still keep them! Well, I am touched!” Eyes filling, he smoothed between thumbs and forefingers the trophies he had awarded George more than ten years ago, then handed them back.
Mr. Wythe came over then, crisp and dry as a lawbook, pale-faced under his powdered wig, with the physique of a sparrow and the beak of an eagle. He was one of the men who had signed the Declaration of Independence and, like Mason, had been a member of the Constitutional Convention. Clark respectedand appreciated him, but felt no warm attachment to him as he did to all the others.
“I should like to assure you,” said Wythe, “that Tom and George and I are drafting our letter guaranteeing those rewards of land we discussed to the volunteers in your expedition. Three hundred acres to each, in addition to their usual pay, if you succeed. And proportionately more to the officers by rank, of course.” He paused and gave a small wry smile which reminded Clark of a tenderfoot at Harrodsburg the previous fall who had eaten an unripe persimmon; it was difficult not to laugh. “I don’t envy you, my boy,” Wythe went on, “when you finally
do
tell your recruits where you’re taking them.”
Clark looked down at Wythe and nodded. “I’ve given that occasion a great deal of forethought. I agree. It’s going to require a strong hand and a wise head. I think I have the hand,” he mused, raising his big, brown, long-fingered right hand, watching it close to a hard fist, then open. “I reckon I shall have to trust in Providence to give me the wisdom.”
“As all must,” Wythe said. He was blinking, and his lips had gone a bit unsteady. Clark was surprised, seeing this first outward sign of any sentiment in Wythe. And suddenly, after all these weeks of meetings, he felt at last a bridge of warmth across the reserve of this great jurist.
Wythe gripped his hand, and with his left palm squeezed his elbow. “By God, sir,” he breathed, “if I were younger, I would go with you!” And then he stepped quickly away and gazed into the fire.
G EORGE ORDERED THE CARRIAGE STOPPED WHILE STILL SEVERAL blocks from the inn, and climbed out to walk the rest of the way. He was simply too charged with energy and anxiety to sit any longer in a conveyance.
The carriage rattled away over the cobblestones into the darkness, disappearing and reappearing at intervals as it passed through the small pools of lamplight. It was late. Most house windows were dark. He stood in the blackness for a few minutes, clenching and opening his hands, inhaling the bitter cold air through his clenched teeth, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and looking above the rooftops and chimneypots at the lucid cold stars. He put his right hand inside his cloak to lay his palm on the letter of secret instructions Governor Henry had given him, and felt as well the rapid thudding of his heart.
It had been this way ever since he left the four great conspiratorsat the governor’s residence: He had been calm while there, somehow as calm and authoritative and confident as those august men, or even more; but once alone he had grown as taut and vibrant as a fiddle string, heart and imagination racing, his whole body silently shrieking its need for release through action.
He began walking
Similar Books
