general has removed you from Schuyler's command. You're to report to him immediately. No excuses.'
'I have none.'
'Schuyler is in disrepute for abandoning Ticonderoga without a fight,' Hamilton added. 'His Excellency had one of his famous fits when he heard the news. Several chairs were damaged.'
'As I have heard it, Schuyler's not entirely to blame. St. Clair neglected to reinforce Sugar Loaf Hill, as he did not think the British could send artillery there.'
'A costly mistake, for which Schuyler will be justly blamed,' said Hamilton. 'A commander must take responsibility.
'I haven't heard he's ducking it,' said Jake. He was honor-bound to defend his commander, even if his assignment had been temporary.
'Arnold is being sent north, along with more reinforcements. The matter will be taken in hand. You and I have more pressing problems.'
'More pressing?'
'Come, we have a long ride before us.'
'Wait.' Jake caught Hamilton by the arm as he started away. He was only three years older than Hamilton, but had seen enough danger since the war started to make them seem like decades. 'Let me change from this uniform first. And I have to say goodbye to Sarah.'
'No time. Besides, the suit looks quite dashing.'
'The breeches are too damn tight.'
'You can find other clothes after we reach the general. We're to meet him below Newburgh by noon, and even if we start now I'm not at all sure we'll make it.'
'Let me just catch Sarah's eye. And a Dutch friend of mine is here who has proven himself useful in difficult situations; the general may want to make further use of him.'
'Colonel — sir.' Hamilton's grip on Jake's arm was as powerful as any British grenadier's, but there was a note of respect and even supplication in his voice.
And something else.
Ordinarily, Hamilton was happy to rely on the commander-in-chiefs’ authority and address even major generals as if they were privates. But speaking now to Jake, genuine admiration mixed with fearful worry; his words nearly trembled in his mouth.
'I would like nothing better than to stay on a few hours myself. But the entire British army has disappeared from the Jerseys, packed themselves into ships, and rode out to sea. If we don't discover their intentions within the next few days, we risk a disaster that will make Ticonderoga look like milk spilt at a maids' picnic. No one must be informed of our business, not even the closest friend. You would know that much better than I.'
Duty having clamped her heavy arm on Jake's shoulder, he nodded and followed Hamilton to the horses without comment.
The Dutchman whose value Jake had mentioned would have welcomed an interruption. He happened at that moment to be deeply engaged in discussion with Colonel Flanagan. Not in itself unusual, except that he was spending considerably more time listening than speaking.
Ordinarily, van Clynne would use any meeting with a close confidant of the commanding general of the Northern Department to press his claims for the return of his ancestral lands, stolen from the family by English interlopers. But it happened that a month earlier the squire had been engaged by the colonel to sell a
variety of items, including a very fine carriage.
'What a coincidence. I was planning to work on that transaction tomorrow,' said van Clynne.
'That would be very good — I could use the thirty crowns, believe me.'
Van Clynne ignored the note of sarcasm in the colonel's voice. In actual fact, the wagon had fetched forty crowns at Half Moon some weeks before, just
before the Dutchman ventured north to assist Jake in his dealings with the Mohawk. But such a large interval had transpired in the meantime that his memory of the details of the business had faded.
Or so he would claim if pressed. For the moment he frowned, allowing as how there was a great shortage of money and an oversupply of wagons, which made achieving a favorable price difficult. Perhaps, he hinted, his usual broker’s fees could be boosted as an incentive to a deal.
'I doubt that,' said Flanagan. 'We have a contract. Your word is your bond, you said.'
'As it remains, stronger than any rope. Indeed, stronger than the chain across the Hudson — which I saved, by the by, and which I am due to, er, inspect directly.'
Flanagan caught van Clynne's cuff as he attempted to retreat. 'I saw a carriage that looked very similar to mine in town just the other day. Another coincidence?'
'As I said, there is quite an oversupply.' Van Clynne looked eagerly for a diversion. He saw one in the person of a servant who entered the room carrying a tray of Port. 'Here we are, Colonel. Something to drink?'
'No.'
'Of course, you are a beer man. As am I, in fact. Indeed, I had set out in search of some ale when you bumped into me. Here. .' He called over to the servant. 'Two cups of your finest ale. Wait — better make it porter; my friend and I have just been discussing some stout business.'
'Excuse me, sir, but I am serving the wine.'
'Just so,' said van Clynne, 'but it is a venial offense and I won't hold it against you. Hurry now; the colonel is a military man and has many important things to attend to.'
As the waiter retreated, van Clynne took a step to follow.
'Hold it, Claus.' Flanagan extended an arm and hooked his finger in a buttonhole on the Dutchman's vest.
'I promise to give the carriage my top priority.'
'There is another matter I'd like to discuss. General Schuyler told me you have recently been among the Mohawk. I would like to know their strength and plans.'
'Yes, the Maquas.' Van Clynne frowned, running his eye up and down Flanagan's dark blue uniform. Undoubtedly, Flanagan was merely making a pretext, planning a return to the obnoxious topic of his wagon as soon as possible. 'My friend Mr. Gibbs would do better to fill you in. He was gathering intelligence, while I served primarily as facilitator and interpreter. The interviews were not all together pleasant, as I'm sure he will tell you with his usual flair.'
'Jake left a short while ago,' said Flanagan. 'And you're here now.'
'Where did he go?' demanded Sarah Thomas, who had been silently observing their conversation.
'I'm sorry, Miss Thomas, but I saw him leave the room a short while ago,' said Flanagan.
Tears welled in Sarah's eyes as anger flushed her cheeks. 'He's gone to see Betsy I'll bet. She claimed to have a headache and went upstairs.'
Flanagan had a daughter about Sarah's age and well understood her consternation. 'I saw him go outside with another officer,' he explained. 'Not with Betsy.'
'Colonel Hamilton?'
The words were scarcely out of Sarah's mouth when van Clynne began to bluster. 'Hamilton?' he demanded. 'Alexander Hamilton? Are we speaking of the young officer who handles much of His Excellency General Washington's correspondence? A man at Washington's beck and call every hour of the day?'
Before Flanagan or Sarah could answer, van Clynne was asking which door they had taken and throwing himself hastily in that direction. The Dutchman ran into the hallway, seeking out his friend with loud entreaties and a sprinkling of even louder curses.
A personal meeting with General Washington had always been a prominent feature of van Clynne's strategy to win back the rights to his property — and here was his chance to arrange one. Surely Jake would tell Hamilton that the Dutchman's plea was a righteous one. Surely the young aide would escort him directly to the general.
But they were nowhere to be found. The landless squire expended a considerable portion of complaints and not a little wheezing before he discovered a stable-hand who had seen them and their mounts head south from the estate. With a great shout, van Clynne realized Dame Opportunity was about to slip off his doorstep.
Not if he could help it. Nor did van Clynne let the fact that the man had only a hazy notion of where the two were going delay him. He trusted to his wits and Fate to reunite them, ere Jake met the general.
