Virgilia breathed with soft sibilance, trying to conceal the sensual excitement seizing her again. In blinding visions that hid Miss Dix, windrows of young men in cadet gray fell bleeding and screaming. Grady grinned at the spectacle, showing the fine artificial teeth she had bought to replace the ones pulled out to mark him as a slave —
"Miss Hazard?"
"I'm sorry. Please forgive me. A momentary dizziness."
A frown. "Do you have such spells frequently?"
"Oh, no — no! It's the heat."
"Yes, it is excessive for December. How do you respond to what I told you?"
Virgilia dabbed her upper lip with her handkerchief. The bright light through the windows showed the scars on her cheeks; she had worn no powder. "I was active in abolitionist work, Miss Dix. As a consequence, I often saw —" she forced more strength into her voice — "the ravaged bodies of escaped slaves who had been whipped or burned by their masters. I saw scars, hideous disfigurement. I bore it. I can bear the rigors of nursing."
At long last the woman from Boston smiled at the visitor. "I admire your certainty. It is a good sign. Your appearance is suitable and Dr. Howe's recommendation enthusiastic. Shall we turn to particulars of your compensation and living arrangements?"
42
Lieutenant Colonel Orry Main's first forty-eight hours in Richmond were frantic. He found temporary quarters in a boarding-house, signed papers, took the oath, bought his uniforms, and presented himself to Colonel Bledsoe, in charge of operations at the War Department offices, on the Ninth Street side of Capitol Square.
A clerk named Jones, a Marylander with a sour, secretive air, showed Orry his desk behind one of the flimsy partitions that divided the office. Next day Secretary Benjamin received him. The plump little man had replaced Walker, the blunt-spoken Alabama lawyer blamed for the failure to capitalize on the Manassas victory, as well as for recent military inaction.
"Delighted you're with us at last, Colonel Main." The secretary exuded camaraderie, except in his unreadable eyes. "I understand we're dining together Saturday night."
Orry expressed surprise. Benjamin said, "The invitation is probably at your lodgings now. Angela Mallory sets a superb table, and the secretary's juleps are renowned. Mr. Mallory is full of praise for the work your brother and Bulloch are doing in Liverpool — ah, but I imagine you are more interested in hearing about your own duties."
"Yes, sir."
"The spot you're to fill has been empty too long. It is a job both necessary and, I regret to say, difficult, because it requires contact with a person of odious disposition. Does the name Winder mean anything?"
Orry thought a bit. "At West Point, they used to talk about General William Winder. He lost the battle of Bladensburg in — 1814, was it?" Benjamin nodded. "Now it's coming back. Winder fought from a superior position with superior forces, but the British whipped him anyway, then marched unopposed to Washington and burned it. Later, I understand, they named a building after him when they rebuilt the town, but professionals always cite him as one of the bunglers who prompted reform in the army by means of reform at West Point. I suppose you could say Sylvanus Thayer was appointed because of him."
"It is Winder's son to whom I refer. He was a tactical officer at West Point for a period."
"That I didn't know."
With noticeable care in selection of his words, Benjamin continued, "He was, in fact, an instructor when President Davis attended the institution. Thus, when Major Winder came here from Maryland earlier this year, the President had good memories of him. Winder was appointed brigadier general and provost marshal. His offices are close by. I will try to prepare you by explaining that Winder is nominally charged with apprehending military criminals and aliens. In other words, he's a glorified policeman — which in itself would not be a problem were he not also one of those persons in whom advancing age induces inflexibility. Finally, and regrettably, he is a martinet. Yet, in spite of it all, he enjoys the President's favor." Benjamin gave him a level look. "For the time being."
Orry nodded to signify understanding. He now had a clue as to why the word difficult had been used to describe his new duties.
Benjamin told him that the provost marshal had recruited a number of men listed on his personnel roster as professional detectives. "I characterize them as plug-uglies. Imported ones at that. Yankee scum who neither understand nor behave like Southerners. They appear more suited for ejecting hooligans from saloons and ten-pin alleys than for careful detective work. But, as I indicated, they are responsible for investigation of military as well as civil wrongdoing. Because of the general's, ah, character, they tend to exceed their authority. However, regardless of the nature of the case or the severity of the offense, I will not have them acting against the best interest of the army. I will not have them usurping the powers of this department. When they try, we curb them. Of course someone must be in charge of that effort.
The last man was not up to the responsibility. Hence my pleasure at your arrival."
Again, that direct stare. Orry, not a little intimidated by what was in store for him, got a shock when Benjamin revealed something else.
"Also, I regret to say, Winder is assuming authority for local prisons. If he does not enforce humane standards of treatment for captives, it could hurt us in the diplomatic sphere, especially with European recognition still in doubt. In short, Colonel, there are any number of ways the general can harm the Confederacy, and we must prevent him from doing so."
It struck Orry that the secretary was reaching into questionable areas; he was responsible for military, not foreign, policy, yet his treatment of Winder was designed to affect both. Benjamin must have seen the doubt on Orry's face. He leaned back and continued.
"You will discover that lines of authority in this government are not clear. The government, in fact, often resembles a maze at an English country house: difficult to picture in total and difficult to negotiate because there are so many passages that cross and look alike. You let me worry about interdepartmental problems; you deal with the general."
"The secretary will permit me to observe that General Winder out-ranks me."
"So he does — until such time as he presents a direct threat to the welfare of this department. Then we shall see who ranks whom." Benjamin brought his chair forward and gave Orry a look that revealed the iron beneath the silk. "I'm confident you will handle your duties with tact and skill, Colonel."
Not a hope, that; an order.
Next morning Orry paid his courtesy call on the provost marshal, whose office was an ugly frame building on Broad Street near Capitol Square. The moment Orry entered, negative impressions began to accumulate. A couple of Winder's plug-uglies, civilians wearing muddy boots and slouch hats, lounged on benches and stared at him as he approached the clerks. Orry didn't miss the huge revolvers worn by the detectives.
He had trouble gaining the attention of the clerks. They were engaged in loud argument and swearing at each other. He rapped on the railing separating the benches from the work area. The clerks ceased their shouting. With odors of beer and overflowing spittoons swirling around him, Orry stated his business.
Brigadier General John Henry Winder kept him waiting one hour. When Orry was finally admitted, he saw a stout officer who looked much older than sixty. Pure white hair jutted from his head in tufts that appeared to have gone uncombed, untrimmed, and unwashed for some time. Winder's skin was flaking from dryness, and the permanent inverted U of his mouth showed he didn't make smiling a habit.