The Golden Flask (2 page)

The spy nodded, his lips tightening before he spoke.

"We won't give up."

It was the most he could say. The recent fall of Ticonderoga without a fight was a sobering reminder of how precarious the Revolution was. Jake knew there were plans for waylaying Burgoyne's advance — he had been wounded initiating some of them — but he could not be confident they would be enough.

"Well, this party is supposed to boost everyone's spirit," said Betsy resolutely. "Let us try this punch."

The concoction included a small amount of rum and a much larger portion of sugar — ordinarily too sweet for Jake, but some sacrifices were expected during war.

Betsy turned back to the room, smiling at a knot of admirers who were pitching together their courage to ask for a dance. While there was some sentiment that her older sister Angelica was prettier, Jake would have to cast his vote in Betsy's favor. Indeed, there was only one woman he could think of who was more fetching and she was many miles away.

But if that was so, who was wearing the red velvet
dress and making a beeline directly for him, young men
swooning in her wake?

"Jake, how long have you been in Albany without
coming to see me?"

"Sarah?"

Jake took a step forward and found himself nearly consumed by Sarah Thomas. He hugged her to him, running his ringers through her auburn hair and savor
ing the crush of her round, rich breasts. For a brief
moment he forgot everything — the war, as well as Betsy
Schuyler behind him.

"Your father said you were in Boston," he told Sarah.

"I hurried back when I heard your life was in danger," said Sarah, taking a step away and surveying
him — with one eye cast menacingly at Betsy. "Appar
ently I arrived not a-moment too soon. What happened
to you?"

"Among other things, a Mohawk made the mistake
of trying to carry off a piece of my scalp without taking
care to make sure I was dead first." He held her hands a moment longer, then loosened his grip to gesture to
his side, where Betsy was standing in a pose that would
have intimidated Minerva. "Sarah, I believe you know
Betsy Schuyler. Her family nursed me back to health."

"Indeed."

Rarely has a simple word contained such under
stated venom. In a clash of arms, Jake Gibbs had few
betters, but he felt temporarily overmatched as the air
around the two women sparked with the electricity of a
sudden summer storm. *

"Sarah Thomas," said Betsy Schuyler. "I hadn't real
ized you were invited."

"I wasn't," said Sarah. "A friend of mine escorted me. A most distinguished gentleman, as it happens."

Any question as to the gentleman's identity was fore
stalled by a loud harangue just now rising near the or
chestra.

"I should think that another violin would be needed
for proper dancing. In my day, accompaniment was ac
companiment, and we did not cut corners with it."

As he had done on so many occasions, Claus van
Clynne made a most timely entrance. Pushing his way through the crowd, he temporarily displaced Sarah and Betsy, whose hostilities were interrupted by the small
whirlpool created by the squire's arrival.

The portly Dutchman, freshly combed and dressed
in a fine russet suit, might have been termed a dashing
figure, assuming one made proper allowances for the
antique quality of his clothes, his large stomach, and
his somewhat scraggly, if over-full, red beard. His shoes
bore large golden buckles, and he had not one but two watch chains. His buttons were silver, and his sleeves
very properly ruffled. His hat was by far the finest in
the hall, circling his head like the clouds over Olympus,
and nearly as gray. The beavers that had volunteered their coats for it had been truly noble beasts.

"I had not expected you out of bed for at least an
other week," said van Clynne, giving Jake a pat on the
side so sturdy the spy gasped with pain. "But of course,
I had not counted on Dutch cures."

"You seem to have made your own recovery," said
Jake.

"A trifle," said the Dutchman, whose most serious
wound during the adventure consisted of the loss of an
entire bushel of wampum. "A misunderstanding. The
Maquas and I have always been on the friendliest of terms. Indeed, we have done much business together, and will do so in the future."

"Not the near future," said Jake. "They've all gone over to Burgoyne."

Van Clynne dismissed this as he might dismiss word
of poor weather. "A temporary indiscretion. Now that
you are fully recovered, perhaps you can accompany
me to Peekskill. I have some business there and aim to
leave in the morning."

"I can't," said Jake. "Schuyler will need me.

The Dutchman sniffed and pulled at his beard, but
noting Betsy nearby, did not voice his opinion of the
Albany aristocrat turned commander. Instead, he took
a glance at the tables, searching for something to drink. Besides the punch, the Schuylers were serving the best Madeira they had, but as of yet no ale had been liber
ated from the kitchen. While van Clynne went to perform that mission, Jake returned his attention to Sarah
and Betsy.

The British and American armies exchanged less threatening glares. Under the guise of compli
menting each other, the two women traded pointed in
sults. Sarah noted that Betsy's new dress was most
becoming, considering that it had been let out twice in
recent months. Betsy opined that the rouge on Sarah's
cheek was very much in fashion, no matter what the word from Europe might suggest. Sarah allowed as
how no one in the room would notice that Betsy mixed a little clothes dye with her hair soap; Betsy complimented Sarah on the handkerchief discreetly stuffed in
the front of her dress.

By now a knot of women had assembled, and the
atmosphere was heavier than a late winter's fog. While
somewhat flattered to be the object of such attention,
Jake was not about to let the two young women come
to blows. He owed Betsy his gratitude for her service as
nurse, and Sarah much more. Surely a smile to one, a
kiss to the other, and peace would break out.

Or at least a truce that would facilitate tactful withdrawal. But as he stepped forward to propose a cease
fire, Jake was grabbed from behind by a most unfeminine hand.

"You, sir, are a scoundrel and a villain. You will ac
company me outside, where we will arrange to redress
our difficulties on the field of honor."

Chapter Two

Wherein, Jake is summoned to meet with the
commander-in-chief, and the Bard is misquoted
.

J
ake
,
unsure what he
had done and somewhat annoyed
at being interrupted, spun around to face his
challenger.

He was met by a young man of twenty with a disheveled m
op of hair, mud-soiled if nicely tailored clothes,
and a broad, impish smile on his face.

"Alexander Hamilton, what the devil brings you to
Albany?"

"Come to rescue you from a tight situation, I see," said Hamilton, whose buff and blue uniform proclaimed him a member of General George Washington’s staff. He swept his tricornered hat toward Betsy and Sarah. "Ladies."

"Colonel Alexander Hamilton," said Jake, introducing
them. He was as glad of the company as the interruption
. "Be careful of him, ladies; he is most ambitious. Just a few weeks ago he was a captain."

"Charmed," said Betsy as he took her hand to kiss it.
She fluttered her eyes at him, making sure Jake saw.

"I hope you will excuse me if I remove Colonel
Gibbs from your presence. But first let me say, Miss
Thomas, that dress is particularly fetching. And you,
Miss Schuyler, I hope my delay in making your acquaintance
to this point won't be held against me, for
surely it has been my great loss."

The reader will be spared the swain's additional bouquets, though the women were not. Sarah immediately
became suspicious, but Betsy's eyes filled with a sort of
light a poet might devote a lifetime to describing.

"Outside," Hamilton whispered to Jake as he turned
from them. "We must not be overheard."

Jake, with a sinking feeling that he was about to become
embroiled in the political fallout from the Ticon
deroga fiasco, reluctantly bowed his apologies and followed Hamilton through the room. They passed
through the ornately worked portal, leaving the faux
woodlands on the walls behind.

Jake had been to the Pastures before the war, and
knew its interior passages fairly well. He took Hamilton to the east door, passing down the steps onto the
broad brick walkway. They walked onto the lawn, away
from the house and the nearby bushes.

The moon was at its fullest. The two men might have
had a proper game of skittles, or perhaps the duel
Hamilton had promised, had the situation been different
. Both remained silent until they reached a point where eavesdropping was impossible.

"General Washington must see you immediately," said Hamilton. "It is a matter of the greatest urgency."

Though softly spoken, the words could not have elicited
a sharper reaction in Jake had they been shouted in his ear.

"I've ridden all day and half the night without stopping
, except for fresh horses," continued Hamilton.
"The 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 Ticonder
oga 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 as
signment had been temporary.

"Arnold is being sent north, along with more rein
forcements. The matter will be taken in hand. You and I have more pressing problems."

"More pressing?"

"Come, we have a long ride before us."