“So I have heard,” Lee said. “ ‘For one thing’ implies ‘for another.’ What else have you heard?”
“As will not surprise you, they line up behind those hardest on the Negro question.” Custis shook his head. “Try as we will to escape it, it remains with us, doesn’t it, Father? A bill was recently introduced in the House of Representatives calling for the reenslavement or expulsion of all free Negroes in the Confederate States. Congressman Oldham of Texas, who wrote the bill, bought a fine house hereabouts—not far from yours, as a matter of fact—and paid gold for it. And Senator Walker of Alabama, who was thought certain to oppose the legislation, has been unwontedly quiet about it. I had to undertake some little digging to find out why, but I managed.”
“Enlighten me, please,” Lee said when Custis fell silent.
“It seems,” Custis said, raising one eyebrow, “the Rivington men somehow obtained a daguerreotype of Senator Walker enjoying the, ah, intimate embraces of a woman not his wife. Their threat to reproduce the photograph and spread it broadside through Montgomery was plenty to gain his silence.”
“Not what one would call a gentlemanly tactic,” Lee observed.
“No, but damned effective.” Custis chuckled. “It must have been a damned languorous embrace, too, for them to have held still long enough for the camera to capture them. And how could they have failed to notice that camera and the man behind it?”
“The Rivington men brought us something new in the line of rifles. Why should they not also have cameras better than ours?”
Lee spoke casually, but the words seemed to hang in the air after they left his lips. The repeaters, the desiccated foods, the medicines the Rivington men brought from 2014 were marvels here and now, for he and his fellows saw them apart from their proper context. But in 2014, they had to be ordinary. Of what else might that be true? Of almost anything, was the only answer that came to Lee. The thought worried him. If the Rivington men could pull wonders out from under their hats whenever they needed one, how could anybody keep them from doing whatever they wanted? He came up with no good answer to the question.
“You see, Father, they can be dangerous,” Custis persisted.
“I never doubted it, my dear boy.” Lee wondered if some man in mottled clothing had followed him around with an impossibly small camera. He’d always had an eye for pretty women, and with his wife both ill and no longer young, he might well have been thought likely to commit an indiscretion. But duty ruled his personal life as sternly as his public one. His hypothetical photographic spy would have gone home disappointed.
“What now, Father?” Custis asked.
“Pass on what you’ve learned about Congressman Oldham and Senator Walker to the President,” Lee said. “That is something he needs to know, and you may not have uncovered all of it”
“I shall inform him directly,” Custis promised. He reached across the desk, set a hand on his father’s arm. A little surprised and more than a little touched, the elder Lee looked into his son’s eyes. Concern in his voice, Custis said, “You take thought for yourself as well. The Rivington men are unkind to those who choose to stand against them. They may choose means more direct than this.” He tapped the copy of the Richmond Sentinel.
“In any case, they are but a handful among us, and not worth my worry,” Lee said. “If I allow them to turn me aside from my own purpose, they shall have beaten me.”
Custis nodded, reassured. Lee, however, found himself less easy of mind, not more, after his bold words. The Rivington men might be a handful, but they were a handful with powers the more dangerous for being so largely unknown. He would not walk soft on their account, but he would not close his eyes to them, either.
“Sit down, my friends,” Judah Benjamin said as the Federal peace commissioners came into the Cabinet chamber. He, Vice President Stephens, and General Lee waited for Lincoln’s representatives to take chairs before they seated themselves. Then Benjamin went on,” Am I to understand you have at last a reply to our proposal for elections in Kentucky and Missouri?”
“We do,” William H. Seward said.
“Took you, or rather Mr. Lincoln, long enough,” Alexander Stephens observed acidly.” Your election is less than three weeks away.”
“You and Mr. Benjamin both served as U.S. Senators,” Seward said. “You understand that reaching a decision of such importance cannot be hurried.” Lee—and no doubt his colleagues with him—also understood the decision, whatever it was, had been timed to furnish Lincoln the greatest possible political advantage. No one, however, was crass enough to say so straight out.
“And what conclusion has your principal reached, sir?” Benjamin asked when Seward showed no sign of announcing that conclusion without being urged to do so.
The U.S. Secretary of State said, “Regretfully, I must inform you that the President declines your suggestion. He still maintains the position that the Federal Union is indivisible, and cannot in good conscience acquiesce to any plan which involves its further disruption. That is his final word on the subject.”
Lee sat very still to keep from showing how disappointed he was. He saw war clouds rising over the two states still in dispute. He saw trains setting out from Rivington, trains full of AK-47s and metal cartridges. He saw the men of America Will Break further cementing their influence over the Confederate States: in battle, their aid would be a sine qua non against the richer North.
“I wish Mr. Lincoln would reconsider,” he said.
Seward shook his head. “As I told you, General, I have given you his final word. Have you any further propositions to set before him?” When none of the Confederate commissioners replied, he got to his feet. “A very good day to you, then, gentlemen.” With Stanton and Butler in his train, he swept out of the chamber.
“How can our nation bear another war so soon?” Lee groaned.
“It may not come to that, General Lee.” Judah Benjamin’s perennial smile grew broader. “Having lost the war, Lincoln must show as much strength now as he can. His ‘final’ word may seem much less so after the eighth proximo. If he wins the election, he will no longer need to posture before the voters, and so may be more inclined to see reason. And if he loses, he may consent for fear the Democrats will offer us greater concessions come March.”
Lee stroked his beard as he considered that. After a few seconds. he bowed in his seat to the Confederate Secretary of State. “Were my hat on, sir, I would take it off to you. I see yet again that in matters political, I am but a babe in the woods. Deception is an essential element of the art of war, yes, but in your sphere it seems not only essential but predominant.”
“You manage nicely, General, despite your disturbing tincture of honesty,” Benjamin assured him. “The proposition the Federals are considering came from you, after all.”
“Honesty is not always a fatal defect in a politician,” Alexander Stephens added. “Sometimes it even becomes attractive, no doubt by virtue of its novelty.”
The two veterans of the political arena chuckled together, Benjamin deeply from his comfortable belly, Stephens with a few thin, dry rasps. The Vice President’s eyes flicked over Lee, who wondered if Stephens knew of Jefferson Davis’s plans for him and, if so, what he thought. Stephens might well have wanted the Presidency for himself and resented Lee as a rival.
If he did, he gave no sign. All he said was,” As no further progress seems likely before the United States hold their elections, we may as well recess until those results are known. Unless one of you gentlemen objects, I shall so communicate to the Federal commissioners.”
Judah Benjamin nodded. So did Lee, saying, “By all means. Nor will I be sorry to gain a further respite. After so long in the field, I find being in the bosom of my family exceedingly pleasant. Indeed, if you will be kind enough to excuse me, I shall head for my house this very moment.”