[Continuing chapter eight]
After a miserable night, Stewart washed and dressed himself without enthusiasm for his appointment with General Magruder. Stewart doubted that anything Magruder could say would be worse than having William Walker exclude him from the glorious Texas expedition.
He was nearly correct.
The interview with the general itself was no trial whatever. However, Stewart spent most of the brief meeting trying to absorb the information Magruder gave them as they entered his room: President Calhoun was dead.
He’d been released from his suffering eight days ago, in Richmond, but word had only just reached Magruder. Now the future of the nation rested on the shoulders of David Crockett, the new president.
General Magruder himself didn’t seem overly upset at the news. Stewart couldn’t tell if the man was distracted by his duties in New Orleans—such as they were—or had not liked President Calhoun to start with. As the meeting stumbled to its early conclusion Stewart decided that distraction was the more likely reason, and self-absorption the likely cause. The general—wearing a heavily brocaded dressing gown over his dress shirt, trousers and boots—proclaimed himself gravely disappointed in Stewart and Patton, and hoped they understood what opprobrium they’d brought upon the treaty commission. Stewart decided that Magruder’s disappointment was not so much with their behavior as with the fact that he'd been called to account for it.
The general let them go after less than ten minutes, with the admonition that they depart and sin no more, or at least not in any such way that the British and Canadians would take offense. Patton laughed and slapped Stewart on the back as they left the general's suite, nearly driving him into a tray-bearing waiter in the process. Patton didn’t seem inclined to mourn the late president either.
Captain Menard was not so easily dealt with as General Magruder. The Canadian radiated not so much displeasure as a deep, permanent disappointment. "I hope you two enjoyed yourselves yesterday," he said as Stewart and Patton mounted the horses the groom had brought out front for them.
"You know we did, Menard," Patton said. "This is one friendly city."
"I'm glad for you," Menard said. He seemed to droop.
"They made it hard for you, did they?" Stewart asked. He ought to feel more sorry for the man, he guessed. He was too busy, though, with his own concerns. He’d subsumed his self-pity about Texas in planning another evening in Pauline's presence. The girls back home had never given him any reason to suspect that the company of women could give one so much pleasure—and it wasn't just the physical pleasure that attracted him, fine as that was.
"I'd be willing to bet a month's pay that you two weren't chastised nearly as much for running away as I was for losing you," Menard said. "Why couldn't you have told me you wanted to see the town? I'm not without friends here. I could have arranged something."
"That's just the problem, Menard," Patton said. "We've had everything arranged for us since we got here. We're tired of arrangements. No offence, friend, but you people have been worse than my aunts when it comes to coddling. We just had to get out on our own."
"Well, I trust that your brief taste of freedom was truly savory," Menard said, spurring his horse into motion. "Because there are going to be three of us escorting you from now on, and the other two are British cavalry officers who've been told that they'll be staying here permanently if they ever lose track of you."
"Lord, please not those obnoxious cherry-pickers Nolan and Reynolds," Stewart said.
"The very same." Menard finally smiled. "And they’re far from the worst British officers here, you know. You could have made things a lot worse for yourselves."
"Hard to see how," Stewart said, and Menard laughed.
"Before we meet our British companions, Captain," Stewart said after he was sure they'd been abandoned by mysterious follower, "I'd like to ask you something."
"Please do," Menard said.
Stewart rode closer to the captain. "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the Federal presence in New Orleans. It’s not just that we're followed whenever we're not with you, Captain. I have recently come into some evidence suggesting that the explosion on that riverboat the other day was aimed at Confederate citizens. I have begun to wonder if the Federals might be so dishonorable."
Menard looked about, as though checking for spies who might be hovering alongside them as they rode. Stewart thought that the gesture might have been funny, had he not been reduced to doing something very similar whenever he set foot outside the hotel. "I don't know how much help I can be about that," the French-Canadian said. "Yes, we know that the United States have spies in New Orleans. So do the Spanish, the French, the Holy Roman Empire and, for all I can tell, the Prussians and Siamese. I'm pretty sure that the Confederate government has spies here as well, though of course that's just my opinion." Menard looked sideways at Stewart, who refused to take the bait. If it was my decision, he thought, I'd certainly have spies here. I don't trust this treaty, and I certainly don't trust your country any further than I could throw it with both hands tied behind my back.
After a moment, Menard shook his head. "I don't know who these spies are, though. I don't even know where they're based. They might be working out of the U.S. Legation in New Town, or they might be established somewhere less obvious. It's not something I've ever had to deal with. Keep in mind that my regiment is stationed in Quebec. I could tell you about the Federal spies in Quebec City with ease; they're not half as clever as they think they are. But here?" He thought a moment, then turned back to Stewart. "Do you have conclusive evidence? Something I could give to a superior, I mean?”
“Not really,” Stewart said. He hoped to obtain more evidence, just as soon as he could sneak away again, but he didn’t feel inclined to share any of what he discovered with the Canadians or English.
“I suppose I could ask some of the men on the governor-general's staff at the Cabildo,” Menard said. “I can't guarantee that that would be much good, though. They're more likely to talk to you about it than to a French-speaking Catholic."
"I can't see how it could help, either," Stewart said. "The Federals aren't going to admit that they're spying, or worse. And if it becomes crucial to either your government or to the treaty negotiations, I'm sure that something will be done about it without my needing to bring it to anyone's attention."
Menard smiled ruefully. "We really don't matter much to this process, do we, Captain? I guess that's the real reason your disappearing yesterday upset me. I think I really wanted to run away with you."
"Hey, now," Patton said, riding up onto Menard's other side. "What's this secret speechifying for?"
"Captain Menard was just confessing that he wishes he'd joined us yesterday," Stewart said.
"Hell," Patton said with a broad grin. "We ought to be able to do something about that. What do you know about a brothel called Beacon's, Captain?"
"Nothing at all," said Menard. "I'm happily married."
"No problem," Patton said. "I'm a trained soldier. I guess I should be able to find it on my own."
"Not today, you won't." Menard was back to grumbling, and it occurred to Stewart that his Canadian companion was looking forward to the day with even less enthusiasm than the Confederates. At least they could look forward to being treated with some respect, as guests. Menard was in many ways an unwanted stranger in his own country.
No comments:
Post a Comment