Prudently, she walked away and up a slight hill. From there she could see a little ways over the fence, which was more than those who pressed up to it could. Several hundred of Provost Marshall John Winder's soldiers fought to push the crowd away from the fence, which was in danger of collapse, and were liberal with clubs and rifle butts before they succeeded. She enjoyed the sight of white soldiers cracking white skulls.
There was a clamor as a door opened and people emerged into the sunlight. The Negro woman more sensed this than saw it until she saw the top of a man's head standing on the gallows. Unlike others, he was hatless and had dark, curly hair. She held her breath and watched as a sack was placed over his head and the noose tightened around his neck. There was no chaplain, no prayers were said, and, a second later, the trap was sprung. Hannibal Watson disappeared from her sight as the crowd roared its pleasure even though all they could see was part of a rope that once had been slack and now jerked taut.
The Negro woman walked away and headed back to the hotel where she worked as a cleaning woman. She was liked and respected there, but she was still a slave. She had a son, but he was safe, perhaps free. He was up north in Boston, where she should have gone when she'd had the chance.
As she walked towards the hotel, a tear ran down her cheek. So long parted, she thought, only to see him again like that. What a shame, what a waste. Silently, eloquently. Abigail Watson vowed revenge on the people who had destroyed her husband and her family.
Rosemarie DeLisle had gotten her money the old-fashioned way-she'd married it. At seventeen and as Rosemarie Willows, she had accepted the proposal of a sixty-seven-year-old planter. Jedidiah DeLisle. Mr. DeLisle owned several plantations and had numerous other investments that made him an extremely wealthy man. He was also infatuated with Rosemarie, who had an excellent name and pedigree but no money.
Gossips had scoffed at the marriage, but Rosemarie had surprised them. She'd felt a genuine affection for the old man who was in constant ill health. When he worsened, she nursed him and earned the grudging admiration of her social peers, even though some of them whimsically thought she had worn him out sexually. When he died three years later, she inherited all his fortune and no one resented it.
Now, at age thirty, Rosemarie DeLisle was accepted as a member of Richmond's society, and a still young and eligible widow. She was also a good friend of Varina Davis, the wife of Jefferson Davis.
Rosemarie DeLisle also liked both sex and John Knollys, who was the latest and most interesting in a short line of discreet lovers. Both she and John were naked, exhausted, and sweat-sheened from their exertions. She rested half seated on her large bed, while he lay with his head on her lap and gazed at a full breast whose nipple seemed to be staring back at him.
She tweaked at his thinning hair. “What say you, Lord John, once more into the breach?”
Knollys smiled. She knew he wasn't a lord. Minor nobility yes, but not a lord. “Aye wench, but not for a while. The lordly battering ram needs repair. Christ, you've damn near destroyed me.”
She sighed in mock sadness. “So much for the British Empire and every man doing his duty by laying alongside his lady.”
Knollys laughed. He was really quite fond of Rosemarie DeLisle. She was far more educated and interesting than anyone else he'd met, and that included Valerie D'Estaing, who was probably screwing her way across Europe. He'd heard through Lord Lyons's sources that the D'Estaings had been sent back to France in what might have been disgrace.
“Can't we just talk for a moment?” he asked.
“If we must. But not overlong,” she sighed dramatically. Rosemarie did like the fact that he appreciated her mind as well as her full, ripe body. Most men did not think she had a brain, which made Knollys quite unique. Of course, most men didn't think any woman was capable of intellectual discourse, or for that matter, of actually enjoying sexual intercourse. “What are your thoughts on the execution of the slave?”
“Badly handled,” she said. “There are those in the government who are hell-bent on offending people needlessly, and they have succeeded. It could have been done discreetly, done later, or not done at all.”
This was precisely what Knollys thought. “What about a trial?”
She yawned. She had nice teeth and an incredible tongue that she used to drive him mad by having it caress his manhood. “Then you would have to presume that he was human and had inalienable rights. The Negro is not human.”
“Then you condone slavery?”
“Of course. You know that. The Negro is an inferior creature who resembles humankind in many ways, but not in all. Therefore, he needs to be protected from his own base impulses, and from those who would exploit him. The white man was placed here by God to provide shelter and succor for the Negro and to protect him from harm. Where the North and England see slavery as an abomination, we see it as the Negro's salvation.”
“What about where they are worked to death or treated harshly?”
She ran her hand down his chest. “That is a crime, or it should be. People who abuse and destroy property are fools.”
“You are saying, then, that the slaves can never be freed.”
She caressed his manhood with her hand but stopped when she got little response. “Never is such a long time. It will not happen in my lifetime, unless, of course, the Union wins. In which case, it would be a tragedy for the Negro as well as the Confederacy.”
“And if the North does win? What will you do?”
“Then I shall leave here and find a home in another land.”
“But what about the rumors that there is an agreement between Jefferson Davis and Palmerston to free the slaves after the conclusion of the war?”
Rosemarie DeLisle laughed heartily. “If there was such an agreement, it wouldn't be worth the paper it's written on. Davis can't force any state to free slaves. It's part of the reason we exist, this freedom of self-determination that is unique to us. If Mr. Davis signed such an agreement, and I doubt that he did, then it was done under duress and knowing full well that it would never be enforced, could never be enforced. The South will not voluntarily free its slaves in the conceivable future.”
John Knollys accepted her statement as truth. She was privy to the conversations and opinions of the Confederacy's leaders to an extent that neither he nor any other Englishman could hope to be. It upset him deeply that the British army and the Royal Navy might be fighting for a fraudulent cause.
But then, Rosemarie's hand again began caressing him. This time she found life, and she purred. He shifted his head so that an inquisitive nipple found his lips and he began fondling it. He had a great deal to tell both Lyons and General Napier.
Later.
General Scott loved to pontificate, and he seized the opportunity whenever it arose. This time, he was to hear General Grant's general plans for stopping Lee's advance, and he looked forward to pronouncing his opinions on them at great length. Secretary of War Stanton and General Halleck were present, as was Nathan, who stood quietly behind Scott. The old general was fatigued and looked pale. He would not, however, be denied. He would be present at these and other meetings.
Also present was Herman Haupt, a brevet colonel who was the superintendent of the Union's railroads. Like Nathan, Haupt was a West Point graduate, but acted more like a civilian than a man in uniform. He cared little for rank and was only concerned that his precious railroads were ready and able to serve the Union. John Rawlins was present as Grant's chief of staff, and he nodded in a friendly manner towards Nathan.
The meeting was in the dining room of the pleasant two-story house on Seventeenth Street NW that Grant had taken over as his living quarters. It was directly across the street from the War Department. Had Julia Grant been present she might have objected to such goings-on in her house. However, she and the rest of Grant's family were not scheduled to arrive for several days.