would prefer not to,” Clinton said, shaking his head.
Inside the decorative room Clinton studied the diminutive, sickly-looking James Madison. The president was sitting at his desk, poring over some papers.
Barely raising his eyes, Madison said a bit curtly, “On time as usual I see, George. The door ... please.”
Clinton pushed the door closed with an expert flick of his cane before nodding his greeting to the six Cabinet members seated before Madison. Thomas Jefferson, the former president, stood at the window with his back to the room, entranced by the steady rhythm of the rain, his tall, awkward silhouette majestic and somewhat ghostly.
The president got to his feet and motioned to the men. “You know everyone here, George. Please sit down.”
“I think I’ll stand,” Clinton said, shifting his feet. “Just get to the point.”
Madison suddenly slammed his fist on the desk, causing everyone to jump except Jefferson, who was still transfixed with the weather. “We’ve discussed this before! You shall refer to me as Mr. President!”
“Then you will call me Mr. Vice President,” Clinton insisted.
Both men stared at each other until Madison slid a glass of wine toward Clinton as a peace offering. The vice president waved it off, and Madison walked over to a full-length mirror.
“As you are all aware, with Britain and France at war, the United States has always wanted … needed to stay neutral,” the president said, straightening his jacket before tugging it downward. “I have asked Britain to continue trading with us, but she refuses. She even blockades the seas so we can’t trade with France. But perhaps worst of all, gentlemen, many of our ships are being seized and our sailors impressed.”
Clinton snorted. “From what I understand most of those seamen are actually British runaways.”
Congressman John C. Calhoun leaned forward and casually helped himself to another glass of wine. “I’m more concerned with those Indians led by that heathen Tecumseh,” he said with a Southern drawl as he brushed aside his long, thick hair. “He’s scaring everybody to death west of the Mississippi.”
“You’re right, Congressman Calhoun,” Clinton said. “It’s only their land. What right do they have to it? Your wealth has blinded you to reality.” He dug into his pocket and flipped some silver at the congressman. The coins fell to the floor, making a sharp noise that echoed in the room. “Maybe that will buy your youth some common sense.”
Calhoun scowled. “Pennywise and pound foolish you are. Contrary to what you might believe, none of us need your permission to maintain our struggle against the British for our liberty and independence.” He bent down, picked up the change, and deftly manoeuvred one of the coins through his slender fingers. “The only reason you’re here is because you are the vice president and your support would be … preferential, shall we say?”
Another congressman, Henry Clay, swallowed the remainder of his drink and greedily held out his glass for more. Calhoun filled it. “And you just know the British are encouraging the Indians to attack us every chance they get. Expanding westward is proving more difficult than we imagined.” The man had the whiff of intoxication about him as he resumed shuffling a deck of cards.
“Your insatiable taste for liquor and gambling clouds your judgment,” Clinton said to Clay as he moved the wine bottle farther away.
“Would you like a duel?” Clay asked, laughing. Then his fine-featured face grew dark. “I have a wellknown temper, Mr. Vice President. You would do well to remember that.” He sat back in his chair to reveal a pistol beneath his jacket.
Clinton surveyed the room. “These are all nice speeches, but this isn’t the floor of Congress. All you’re doing is making excuses for war.”
“We’re wasting time, gentlemen,” Madison said, returning to his desk and unfolding a large piece of paper. “This is a map of Upper and Lower Canada.” He reached for an imaginary object above his head. “It is a plum just waiting to be picked.”
The others chuckled.
Clinton stabbed the map with his cane. “You’re going to throw away twenty-nine years of peace with England for that?” He glared at the assembled men.
“The American people won’t stand for this!”
Madison resumed sitting and sipped his wine. “Your usual flair for the dramatic has been duly noted … Mr. Vice President.” The president pushed away the tip of Clinton’s cane.
“This betrays our own heritage, for God’s sake!” Clinton said. “The United States prides itself upon liberty and equality for all … including our neighbours.”
Madison sighed. “Sit down, George.”
Clinton shuffled closer to the Cabinet members and looked each one in the eye. “Have you all forgotten how unpopular conscription is?” He glanced at Madison. “And need I also remind you that the debt is already at forty-five million dollars? Pursuing this folly will surely triple that amount! You, Mr. President, will bankrupt the country.”
Madison kicked his chair back and pointed a threatening finger at Clinton. “I’ve had enough of your insubordination in public and in private! You will show me my due respect!”
“Men are going to die for the sake of your ego,” Clinton said calmly. “You’re incubating a lie for the American people. If you truly want war, then attack the harbour in Halifax. That, sir, is where the British navy is based.”
Paul Hamilton, the secretary of the navy, cleared his throat nervously. “I … I must admit we might not be ready for such a conflict.”
Madison frowned. “Are you a coward, Mr. Hamilton? You were a professional soldier. I’m sick of your excuses!”
“I just want to be ready, sir,” Hamilton said, his plump face flushing.
Clinton smiled knowingly and poured a glass of wine with quaking hands. “You want nothing to do with Halifax because you know the British navy is too strong, not to mention the hundreds of Loyalists who live there.”
Madison smirked and admired his reflection in the mirror again. “You are jealous of me, George, aren’t you? You failed to be elected president twice. That’s what’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”
Clinton clenched his jaw and inched closer to Madison. “I was an unwilling candidate and you know that. The only reason I did run was because so many people didn’t want you.”
Madison slicked back his snow-white hair. “George, you’re nothing but an old, stubborn, unpatriotic man who’s lost his will to fight.”
Furious, Clinton swiped the desk with his cane and sent the crystal glasses and wine bottle crashing to the floor. “I fought in the French and Indian War!” he thundered as he hobbled to a copy of the U.S. Constitution hanging on the wall. “My name would have been on that document, too, but I was in charge of the militia at the request of George Washington himself. Remember?”
Madison strolled to the crackling fireplace and warmed his hands. “In case you’ve forgotten, I am the
