Clay glanced at Lee, who nodded. ‘A brave boy, and he’s entitled to his choice. Just do it, Colonel,’ and there was iron in his voice.
‘Then with your permission, sir.’
He nodded to Josh, who took the bottle of whiskey that stood on Lee’s table, uncorked it and held it to Brown’s lips.
‘Much as you can take, Captain.’
Brown nodded, swallowed, then swallowed again. He nodded. ‘Enough.’
Clay said, ‘Thread a needle, Josh.’ He bared Brown’s arm. ‘You’ll feel this. Just hang in there.’
He poured raw whiskey over the open wound, and the young captain cried out. Josh passed over the curved needle threaded with silk.
Clay said, ‘Stand behind the chair and hold him.’
Josh did as he was told, and as General Lee watched impassively, Clay poured whiskey over his hands, the needle and the thread, held the lips of the wound together and passed the needle through the flesh, and mercifully at that first stroke, Brown cried out again and fainted.
An hour later, after a meal of some sort of beef stew, Clay and Lee sat at the table and enjoyed a whiskey. Outside, the rain poured relentlessly.
‘Well, here we are at the last end of the night on the road to nowhere,’ Lee said.
Clay nodded. ‘General, it’s a known fact that President Lincoln offered you command of the Yankee army on the outbreak of hostilities. No one disputes your position as the greatest general of the war.’ He helped himself to another whiskey. ‘I wonder how different things might have been.’
‘Waste of time thinking that way, Clay,’ Lee told him. ‘My fellow Virginians were going to war. I couldn’t desert them. After all, what about you? You’re from good Irish American stock, your father and that brother of his. You went to Europe, medical schools in London and Paris. You’re a brilliant surgeon, yet you chose my path.’
Clay laughed. ‘Yes, but I’m Georgia-born, General, so, like you, I had no choice.’
‘You’re too much like your father. I was sorry to hear of his death. Three months ago, I believe.’
‘Well, everybody knew he’d been operating schooners out of the Bahamas, blockade-running. He took the pitcher to the well too often. He was on one of his own boats when they ran into a Yankee frigate. It went down with all hands.’
Lee nodded gravely ‘Your mother died early. I remember her well. Your father, as I recall, was somewhat of a duellist.’
‘That’s an understatement.’
‘And the elder brother, your uncle?’
‘On my grandfather’s death, he inherited an estate in the west of Ireland. He had a plantation only twenty miles from here. Left it in the hands of a manager.’
‘So what happens now?’ Lee asked.
‘God knows, General. What happens to all of us?’
‘It’s simple, Clay. I’ve had contact with Grant. We meet at Appomattox tomorrow to discuss surrender terms.’ He brooded. ‘Grant and I served in the Mexican Wars together. Ironic it’s ended this way.’ He shrugged. ‘He’s a good soldier and an honourable man. I’ve already made it clear in a communication that I want all of my men who own their own horses to keep them.’
‘And he’s agreed?’
‘Yes.’
There was a moan from Brown lying on the truckle bed in the corner. Josh, who had been sitting on watch, got an arm around him as the young captain sat up. Clay went to him at once.
‘How do you feel?’
‘Terrible.’
‘Come and sit by the fire.’
‘I’ll get him some coffee,’ Josh said, and went out.
Brown slumped into a chair, and Lee asked, ‘Are you all right, boy?’
‘Fine, sir. Hurts like hell, but there it is.’ He turned to Clay. ‘My thanks, Colonel.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘I was hoping to meet you. Your uncle had a house near here. Fairoaks?’
‘That’s right. He went to Ireland and left a manager in charge.’
‘Well, he used to have a house. Burned to the ground by Yankee cavalry. I passed it two days ago. One of the field hands had a letter. Some lawyer from Savannah called, looking for you. Said he’d be at Butler’s Tavern for a week. Name of Regan.’
‘I know Butler’s Tavern. It’s about thirty miles from here.’
‘The letter said if he couldn’t get you there, he’d be in Savannah. You know this man?’
Clay nodded. ‘My father was a blockade-runner. Regan managed his affairs.’
‘Sorry I don’t have the letter, Colonel. We were in a skirmish with Yankee cavalry just after I got it, and it disappeared.’
‘That’s fine,’ Clay said. ‘You’ve told me what I need to know.’
Josh came in with coffee in a tin cup and gave it to Brown. Clay turned to Lee. ‘What now, sir?’
‘For me, Clay, Appomattox and the final end of our cause. Humiliation, of course, but I see no need for you and your men to endure it. You have family business to attend to. I think I’d prefer it if you and your men simply faded into the night. I should think that in ones and twos you’d have little difficulty in passing through the Yankee lines, especially in such wooded country.’
‘Is that your order, General?’
‘My suggestion.’ Lee held out a hand. ‘We ran a good course, my friend. Just go.’
The emotion was hard to bear. Clay shook hands. ‘General.’ He turned and walked out and Josh followed.
He found his men under the trees, sheltering under two stretched tarpaulins beside a fire. Sergeant Jackson stood up.
‘What’s happening, General?’
‘Not general any longer. Back to colonel, boys. I’ve seen General Lee. He carries on to Appomattox tomorrow, where he will surrender to General Grant.’ There was a stunned silence from the men. ‘It’s over, boys.’
Young Corporal Tyree said, ‘But what are we going to do, Colonel? All I know is the war. I joined at fourteen.’
‘I know, Corporal. General Lee’s suggestion is that we slip away in small groups, pass through the Yankee lines and go home.’ He turned to Josh. ‘The money bag.’
Josh produced a leather purse from the bottom of the surgical bag. ‘Here you go, Colonel.’
