The Titans by John Jakes Page B

approached Arlington House. The mansion had a solid, serene look. Twin wings extended from the massive main building to add a pleasing symmetry and create a facade Jephtha guessed to be something like a hundred and fifty feet wide. The entire building was stuccoed brick, painted over in buff with white trim. Its most imposing feature was its portico-exceptionally deep; at least twenty-five feet. Eight mammoth Doric columns supported the classic pediment. A savory smell of wood smoke drifted from vine- covered brick outbuildings he'd passed on his ride up the hillside. He dismounted, tied the mare to a ring The Titans101 block below the portico steps, and wiped sweat from his forehead with a pocket kerchief. Across the river below the tree-shaded lawn the sprawling city with its familiar landmarks had a deceptive look of sunlit calm. Standing with one dark-skinned hand on the neck of the horse, Jephtha suddenly wished he still had enough faith to say a prayer; enough faith to ask God to protect the lives of his sons, even if he never saw them again- But he didn't. The huge portico was cool with shadow. Jephtha hesitated before touching the great door knocker. The house itself seemed to speak of the sadness of disunion. Poor arthritic Mary Lee, the colonel's wife-seldom seen in Washington any longer-was the daughter of George Washington's adopted son, George Washington Parke Custis. The colonel's father, Light-Horse Harry, had served the general as a hard-fighting cavalry officer during the Revolution. At the first president's funeral, Light-Horse Harry had spoken the words that had lingered in the common memory ever since: "First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen." If most Americans felt a sense of despair today, how much deeper it must be for the inhabitants of this mansion; people whose forebears had done so much to create and nurture the nation. Feeling somewhat like the violator of a shrine, Jephtha let the knocker fall. Presently an elderly white housekeeper answered. "Yes, sir?" "Forgive the intrusion, ma'am. My name is Kent. I'm a journalist with a New York paper-was The housekeeper's eyes narrowed with suspicion. 102Colonel Lee "If Colonel Lee's at home, I'd appreciate a few moments of his time." The woman started to shut the door. "The colonel is not seeing-was "Who's there, Hattie?" The housekeeper frowned. She was forced to turn and answer: "Some fellow from a newspaper, Colonel Lee." Jephtha heard the sound of boots and then the door swung all the way open. Though Washington was a relatively small city, Jephtha had never seen Robert Edward Lee in person until now. He judged him about fifty-five, not quite six feet, and powerfully built. Because his legs were slender, his chest, shoulders, and head looked huge by comparison. Lee was dressed in civilian trousers and a loose linen shirt. A full black mustache contrasted with his graying hair. He had a large nose, kindly brown eyes, and an air of quiet assurance that helped explain why he'd been so successful in the army. His expression, though guarded, wasn't unfriendly: "I'm Colonel Lee, Mr.-?" "Kent. Jephtha Kent. Washington correspondent for the New York Union." Lee extended his hand. "How do you do? I'm sorry to tell you I have nothing to say for the public record." Somehow Jephtha felt audacity would be more effective than a meek thank you and goodbye. He took the chance: "I can understand that, Colonel. However, I did ride a good distance in the hope you'd be home. I realize I'm intruding on your privacy. But you are a public figure. You'll forgive me if I say I'll be very unhappy if you send me back to the city empty-handed." "Why, of all the Yankee gall!" the housekeeper exclaimed. The Titans103 Lee held up a hand. His eyes sparkled with amusement: "Come now, Hattie. Mr. Kent's boldness is commendable." He stepped back. "I'm afraid you will go back empty-handed. But you're welcome to step in and refresh yourself with some