God’s curse. The stupidity of
making me the commander. I’m a doctor, not a military man.”
“Let me
look at your throat,” Gonzales said. Warren climbed to his feet. “My throat’s
sore, yes.” Gonzales took a small stick and depressed Warren’s tongue. “It’s a
springtime humor, flushed.” He fingered the glands in Warren’s neck. “Coddle it
with hot flip and rest.”
Warren
laughed. “Rest, you say.”
“Where
did you learn, Dr. Gonzales?” Feversham asked him.
“In Rhode Island. We have a hospital in Providence.”
“Have you
seen any war?”
“No, but I’ve had cuts and hunting wounds, and I’ve done amputations. I had good mentors. The ships come in, you know, and
the seamen are knocked about. I’m fifty-two years, so I have a lifetime behind
me.”
“Warren,”
Feversham said, “we’ll not make it with a handful of barbers and leeches. It’s
going to be a bloody, dreadful mess. If you could find a dozen men to help
Gonzales here and myself, it might make a difference. And where is this Dr.
Church?”
“God knows!
Come inside and we’ll talk to Hunt about the men you want. As for Dr. Church,
Feversham, he’s too damned elusive for my taste. He’s supposed to be a member
of our Committee of Safety, and I wish to God he weren’t. The man raises too
many doubts in me.”
JUNE 16
I n a royal rage, Sir William Howe, Fifth Viscount Howe,
pillar of the British armed forces in America, commander in chief of the Royal
Expeditionary Forces in the colonies, strode back and forth across the
tastefully furnished living room of the Boston mansion appropriated for his
use. Then he halted, his huge six-foot, one-inch bulk towering over Henry
Clinton. He drove an accusing hand at him and shouted, “You dare, sir! And with what conscience, sir? You will preach me morality!
You have taken the wife of a priest of the Church of England and are fucking
her like a damned stallion for all the world to see, and you dare to teach me propriety!”
“I beg you
to be calm, sir,” Clinton said softly. “I apologize for my forthrightness. For
God’s sake, let’s speak like gentlemen. We are comrades in arms. I honor you. I
beg you, sir.”
Rage was
never a lasting mood with William Howe. The anger passed, and for a long moment
he stood silent, staring at Henry Clinton. Then he said quietly, “You don’t
understand.”
“Perhaps
not,” Clinton admitted.
“You know
me very little, sir. You take great liberties.”
“My duty
speaks, Sir William. In all of England there is no more honored family than
yours. Your brother, the Earl Richard, more than any other man, is an emblem
for the Crown. For seven years, he commanded the fleet that was England’s wall
against the French. You are a peer of the realm, with a wife and family in
England.”
“I’ll
thank you not to read me my honors,” Howe said sourly. He fell into a spacious
armchair. “I am no schoolboy,” he said. “I am no callow, horny subaltern
looking for ass. Something happened to me that never happened before in all my
life. I am in love, sir. I have encountered something I never believed existed.
This is my woman, now and forever.”
Sir Henry
groped for words. Later, describing the scene to Burgoyne, he would say, “I was
bloody speechless. Here’s this huge, overaged, overweight top dog—mind you, top
dog at home as well as here—talking like a lovesick schoolboy. And over what? Over a lowborn hussy, a whore, if you will,
because she has been fucked over and diddled by anyone willing to pay the
price. Oh, she plays a magnificent hand of whist, and she has tits that would
make a vicar’s tongue hang out, and I’ll give you her looks; but the woman’s a
slut, and she married a gelding for his money—and Sir William is most certainly
Sir William.” But at this moment, staring at General Howe in speechless
disbelief, Henry Clinton could only say, “I don’t understand, Sir William— now
and forever?”
“Now
making me the commander. I’m a doctor, not a military man.”
“Let me
look at your throat,” Gonzales said. Warren climbed to his feet. “My throat’s
sore, yes.” Gonzales took a small stick and depressed Warren’s tongue. “It’s a
springtime humor, flushed.” He fingered the glands in Warren’s neck. “Coddle it
with hot flip and rest.”
Warren
laughed. “Rest, you say.”
“Where
did you learn, Dr. Gonzales?” Feversham asked him.
“In Rhode Island. We have a hospital in Providence.”
“Have you
seen any war?”
“No, but I’ve had cuts and hunting wounds, and I’ve done amputations. I had good mentors. The ships come in, you know, and
the seamen are knocked about. I’m fifty-two years, so I have a lifetime behind
me.”
“Warren,”
Feversham said, “we’ll not make it with a handful of barbers and leeches. It’s
going to be a bloody, dreadful mess. If you could find a dozen men to help
Gonzales here and myself, it might make a difference. And where is this Dr.
Church?”
“God knows!
Come inside and we’ll talk to Hunt about the men you want. As for Dr. Church,
Feversham, he’s too damned elusive for my taste. He’s supposed to be a member
of our Committee of Safety, and I wish to God he weren’t. The man raises too
many doubts in me.”
JUNE 16
I n a royal rage, Sir William Howe, Fifth Viscount Howe,
pillar of the British armed forces in America, commander in chief of the Royal
Expeditionary Forces in the colonies, strode back and forth across the
tastefully furnished living room of the Boston mansion appropriated for his
use. Then he halted, his huge six-foot, one-inch bulk towering over Henry
Clinton. He drove an accusing hand at him and shouted, “You dare, sir! And with what conscience, sir? You will preach me morality!
You have taken the wife of a priest of the Church of England and are fucking
her like a damned stallion for all the world to see, and you dare to teach me propriety!”
“I beg you
to be calm, sir,” Clinton said softly. “I apologize for my forthrightness. For
God’s sake, let’s speak like gentlemen. We are comrades in arms. I honor you. I
beg you, sir.”
Rage was
never a lasting mood with William Howe. The anger passed, and for a long moment
he stood silent, staring at Henry Clinton. Then he said quietly, “You don’t
understand.”
“Perhaps
not,” Clinton admitted.
“You know
me very little, sir. You take great liberties.”
“My duty
speaks, Sir William. In all of England there is no more honored family than
yours. Your brother, the Earl Richard, more than any other man, is an emblem
for the Crown. For seven years, he commanded the fleet that was England’s wall
against the French. You are a peer of the realm, with a wife and family in
England.”
“I’ll
thank you not to read me my honors,” Howe said sourly. He fell into a spacious
armchair. “I am no schoolboy,” he said. “I am no callow, horny subaltern
looking for ass. Something happened to me that never happened before in all my
life. I am in love, sir. I have encountered something I never believed existed.
This is my woman, now and forever.”
Sir Henry
groped for words. Later, describing the scene to Burgoyne, he would say, “I was
bloody speechless. Here’s this huge, overaged, overweight top dog—mind you, top
dog at home as well as here—talking like a lovesick schoolboy. And over what? Over a lowborn hussy, a whore, if you will,
because she has been fucked over and diddled by anyone willing to pay the
price. Oh, she plays a magnificent hand of whist, and she has tits that would
make a vicar’s tongue hang out, and I’ll give you her looks; but the woman’s a
slut, and she married a gelding for his money—and Sir William is most certainly
Sir William.” But at this moment, staring at General Howe in speechless
disbelief, Henry Clinton could only say, “I don’t understand, Sir William— now
and forever?”
“Now
Similar Books
