Home of the Brave (13 page)

Jackson folded the speech
and put it in his pocket. Then he faced Chief Justice
Marshall.

Marshall held the Bible
toward Jackson with both hands. “Please place your left hand on the
Bible and raise your right hand.”

Jackson winced slightly as
he extended his bad left arm to place his hand on the book, then he
raised his right hand.

“Do you, Andrew Jackson,
solemnly swear that you will faithfully execute the office of
President of the United States, and will, to the best of your
ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the
United States?”

“Yes,” Jackson said clearly,
“to the people in all their majesty, I do solemnly swear, so help
me God.” He took the Bible from Marshall, raised it to his lips
then bowed once again to the people and returned the Bible to the
Chief Justice.

As Jackson turned back
toward the rotunda, guns on the heights at Alexandria and Fort
Warburton thundered in almost perfect unison puffing white
smoke-rings across the Potomac. With the cannonade, the crowd
surged forward regaining its enormous collective voice.

Yank looked over his
shoulder for a moment then pulled Marina across the steps to follow
the President and Justices.

“We’re supposed to wait,”
she protested, running to keep up with him.

“The crowd broke through the
barrier,” he said. Still pulling her along behind him, he followed
the inaugural party into the Capital rotunda.

When they reached the south
side, Yank stepped out the door and backed against the wall,
protecting Marina with his body. A few seconds later, the crowd
burst through the doors in pursuit of their hero.

At the bottom of the steps,
thousands of people were already clogging Pennsylvania Avenue and
no amount of pushing or threatening by the police or militia could
open a path through them. Finally, Jackson took control, and
dismissing the cordon of uniformed men, walked smiling into the
crowd toward the big white horse that he was to ride to the White
House.

“Would you look at that?”
Yank said in wonder.

“Moses parting the Red Sea,”
Marina replied from behind him.

“They’re all desperate to
touch him but they give him room.”

“Dear God,” Marina gasped as
she caught a glimpse through the masses of people. “That horse is
wild-eyed and terrified.”

“It’ll calm down. Watch
this.”

Jackson had reached the
frightened animal now. He took the reins from the cavalryman,
pulled the horse’s muzzle toward him, blew in its face, whispered
something in its ear, patted its neck and then walked to the
animal’s left side and swung into the saddle with the practiced,
fluid motion of a born horseman.

As Jackson rode regally
toward the White House, waving as he went, the last of people who
had come up the front steps spilled from the rotunda and raced down
the back steps onto Pennsylvania Avenue to follow him.

As the surge passed, Yank
released Marina with a sigh of relief. “That must be how it feels
to escape a buffalo stampede.”

“I don’t want to go to the
reception at the White House,” she said nervously.

“Nor do I; that mob will
tear the place down.”

“Where did General Coffee
and the others go?”

“They were either trampled
or they found another way out.”

“Shouldn’t we go back and
check on them?”

“No. They’re fine or they’re
not. There’s nothing we can do now. We have a long walk back to
Alexandria and we have that damned Inaugural Ball tonight.” He took
her hand and started down the steps.

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“The ball.”

“There are two, actually.
One at Carusi’s Assembly Rooms and the other at the Central Masonic
Hall. Which do you prefer?”

“Do you have tickets for
both?”

“Yes.”

“Dear God. How much did they
cost?”

“Four dollars.”

“Per couple?”

“Per person.”

“You spent sixteen dollars
on tickets?” she gasped.

“Yes. Which one do you want
to attend?”

“I’m Catholic.”

“Only on Easter and
occasionally on Christmas Eve.”

She made a face at him.
“Will they let me into a Masonic Hall?”

“Yes. Although they may
sacrifice you on the altar.”

“Then we should attend the
one at Carusi’s first.”

“First? You can’t mean you
want to attend both.”

“Me? You spent the sixteen
dollars.”

Yank turned around then
stopped and waved. “There are the Coffees.”

“What’s his wife’s
name?”

“Mary. She’s Rachel’s niece.
Be sure to offer your condolences.”

“I think I knew
that.”

“We feared that you might
have been trampled,” Yank said as the couple caught up to
them.

“Not quite,” Coffee replied.
“We lit out for the White House as soon as Andy kissed the Good
Book.”

“It’s in a shambles
already,” Mrs. Coffee said. “We didn’t even go inside.”

“I was so sorry to hear of
your Aunt Rachel’s death, Mary,” Marina said. “She was a fine woman
and I’m proud to have known her.”

“Thank you, Marina, that’s
very kind of you to say so.”

“Which ball were you going
to attend this evening?” Marina asked.

The other woman blushed.
“The tickets are very dear and we’ve had a run of bad luck
lately.”

“We have extra tickets,”
Yank said immediately. “Which ball would you prefer?”

Coffee looked suspicious.
“How did you end up with extras?”

“Uh.” Yank looked at Marina.
“You tell General Coffee, please Marina.”

“Well,” she said after a
deep breath. “I thought that John had forgotten to buy them so I
bought two tickets myself. But he hadn’t forgotten. They’re
non-refundable.”

“Yes.” Yank nodded. “So you
see, we have two tickets that we can’t use. Which of the two would
you prefer to attend? Marina and I have no preference.”

Mrs. Coffee looked up at her
husband for a moment. “Well, if you really don’t have a preference,
I think we’d like to go to the one at the Masonic Hall.”

“Done,” Yank said. “I’ll
give you the tickets when we get back to the tavern.”

~

Carusi’s main ballroom was a
vast open space, three hundred feet long and one hundred fifty feet
wide. The draped ceiling was supported by rows of four Greek
pillars made from highly polished marble that soared a hundred feet
overhead. The room was lighted from above with whale-oil lamps
whose light was diffused by the gauzy drapes. The walls on each
side contained viewing boxes on a second level with smaller columns
supporting the floor and extending to the underside of the
ceiling.

“Well,” Yank muttered to
Marina. “This may well be equal in vulgar opulence to any European
palace.”

“It’s mostly gilt and
mirrors.”

He looked at her curiously.
“That’s an odd reaction.”

“I’ve been here before,
John. It isn’t what it seems at first blush.”

“Oh. I forgot that you were
once a Washington belle.”

She giggled. “Did you hear
that President Jackson had to climb out of a window at the White
House to escape the mob?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “I also
heard that they had to put huge bowls of punch on the front lawn to
lure the revelers out of the mansion.”

“They say the damage will
run into thousands of dollars.”

“His enemies will make good
use of that in the press tomorrow. I wonder where Jackson’s going
to sleep tonight.”

“At Gadsby’s Tavern.” Marina
squeezed Yank’s arm. “Don’t look now but that’s Peggy Eaton over
there to our right.”

“There are several hundred
women to our right. And since I don’t know anyone named Peggy
Eaton, I would have trouble identifying her. If I was permitted to
look, that is.”

“The buxom redhead with
Senator Eaton, you fool.”

Yank looked and raised his
eyebrows. “Ah, yes. Charming and indeed buxom. Why am I not looking
at her?”

“You must know about the
scandal surrounding her late husband’s suicide and her over-hasty
marriage to the senator.”

“That would probably be in
the scandal section of the newspapers that you abscond with every
morning.”

“Society pages,” she
corrected. “And I always return them.”

“If you do, I don’t read
them.”

“Then I’ll tell you all
about it.”

“No thank you.”

“If you’re going to be in
the President’s Cabinet you need to know all about this,” she
whispered.

“Well I’m not going to be in
the President’s Cabinet so I don’t need to know anything about
it.”

“What?”

“I said that I don’t need to
know.”

“Did he offer you a
position?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“We never got that far in
the discussion.”

“What?”

“You sound like a parrot,
Marina. What, what, what.”

“What did you say to him,
John?”

“I told him that I admired
him enormously as a man and as a general, but that I disagreed
vociferously with almost everything that he believed
in.”

“You didn’t.”

“Yes I did. And I also told
him that I could never be a damned Democrat.”

“John.”

“Marina.”

“You’ve cut your own
throat.”

He shrugged. “There’s a
rocking chair on the porch at Van Buskirk Point just waiting for
me.”

“Shit.”

Yank looked at her in
surprise. “You never seemed that enthusiastic about moving back
here.”

“No, no. That’s not what I
meant. Peggy O’Neale is coming toward us. That’s what I was
swearing about.”

“Who the devil is Peggy
O’Neale?”

“That devil would be me,
General,” the buxom redhead that Marina had pointed out said.
“Hello, Marina.”

“Nice to see you Peggy,”
Marina replied with a pleasant smile. “You already seem to know my
husband.”

“I’ve admired him from a
distance,” she said. “Do you know my husband, Senator John Eaton,
General?”

“Yes, indeed,” Yank said.
“Good evening, Senator. Have you met my wife?”

Eaton bent over Marina’s
hand. “Charmed, Mrs. Van Buskirk, charmed.”

“John is to be in the
President’s cabinet,” Peggy said proudly.

“That’s a bit premature, my
love,” Eaton replied. “There is a matter of the Senate’s
consent.”

“Oh bother,” she giggled.
“They’re all your old cronies.”

“I’m so very sorry,” Marina
said, “but I see Mrs. Jackson’s niece over there and I must offer
her my condolences. Please excuse me.” She smiled again at Peggy,
patted Yank on the arm and then hurried away.

“Mrs. Jackson’s niece is the
official hostess,” Peggy said icily. “One should not be forced to
seek her out, she should be welcoming us.” Peggy looked at her
husband. “She intentionally ignored us when we were
announced.”

Ignoring her, the Senator
took Yank’s arm and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I was told
that you declined the President’s offer of a cabinet position,
Yank.”

Yank raised an eyebrow.
“Were you indeed, Senator?”

“I was hoping it was
untrue,” Eaton replied.

Yank extracted his arm. “I
see Win Scott over there trying to get my attention. My eldest son
is in his command. General Scott may have important news for me.
Please excuse me, Senator.” He bowed. “Mrs. Eaton?
Charmed.”

“General,” Peggy
replied.

Yank crossed the room toward
General Winfield Scott. “Hello Win. You look well for an old war
horse.” They shook hands.

“Good to see you, Yank. Your
son, Jack, tells me that you’ve retired, but here you are in dress
uniform, sword and all.”

“Yes. I hit the thirty year
ceiling but I’m in uniform at the request of the President. I
looked it up. It’s permitted.”

“You hit the thirty-year
ceiling about a week before they removed it. No time or age limit
for general grade officers anymore. If you want to come back where
you belong, I can arrange it.”

Yank shook his head. “Thirty
years of taking orders from fools was enough for me. After tonight,
this uniform goes into permanent mothballs. How’s Jack
doing?”

“He’s a fine officer and I
have no doubt that he’ll be wearing stars on his collar before
long. What’s this I hear about you having a seat in Jackson’s
cabinet?”