Valley Forge (37 page)

"The world is well rid of them, Tom. Cicero and his friend were also able to confirm how bad conditions really are in Valley Forge. I know that you're under canvas in that camp," he went on, "but you're in a much more sheltered position. Valley Forge is exposed to the elements."

"Then why did Washington choose it?"

"It's hard to attack, and he had to keep his army together somewhere. If he'd dispersed them for the winter, he'd never have got some of them back."

"As it is, a lot of his men are deserting like those two you came across." Caffrey's eye fell on a book that lay on the bed beside Skoyles. "What's that, Jamie?"

"A novel I bought yesterday."

"What! Did you defy my orders and go out?"

"I wanted some fresh air."

"You need a complete rest," Caffrey insisted. "That wound will take time to heal. Don't put any pressure on it."

"It was only a short walk," said Skoyles. "Elizabeth wanted me to see this bookshop she's discovered. Since she knew that I'd have to put my feet up for a while, she thought I might like something to read."

"What did you choose?"

"The bookseller chose it for me, Tom."

"Let me see," said Caffrey, picking it up to open it. "
The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
. Henry Fielding—I've never heard of him."

"Then you must talk to Pearsall Hughes."

"Who?"

"The bookseller. He seemed to know everything that Henry Fielding had ever written. He thought I'd find it very diverting," said Skoyles, "but he did warn me that it was not suitable for ladies."

"What did Elizabeth think of that?"

"She didn't hear him. Elizabeth was too busy talking to his wife. Mrs. Hughes knows a lot about books as well." Skoyles sighed. "I can't say that I'm a reading man myself, but I'll need something to keep me occupied."

"Not suitable for ladies, eh? That sounds promising." He put the book aside. "Now let me get on with what I came here to do and change that dressing of yours."

"How long will I have to wear this sling?"

"Until I tell you to stop."

"Is there any chance I can take it off by Saturday?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"Elizabeth and I are going to watch a play," said Skoyles, "and I'd feel rather conspicuous like this. What do you say, Tom?"

Caffrey grinned. "All right," he agreed. "Go without it."

"Thank you."

"But if there's another mad dash out of the theater, put it back on again. I don't want my lovely sutures to be ripped out."

A break in the bad weather encouraged Ezekiel Proudfoot to come into Philadelphia again. Mindful of his earlier arrest, he took the precaution of shaving off his beard to change his appearance. When he stepped into the bookshop, Miranda Hughes did not at first recognize him.

"Is that really you, Mr. Allen?" she said.

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes."

"It's good to see you again."

"Your husband said that I should call in sometime."

"Well, you've come at the ideal moment."

"Have I?" said Proudfoot. "Why is that?"

"Because we have a visitor you know," she explained. "Go through and meet him. I have to look after the shop."

"We'll talk later."

Proudfoot pushed the hinged bookcase at the rear of the shop and, in response to an invitation from Pearsall Hughes, went through it into the parlor. Seated opposite the bookseller was Major John Clark. Both men got up to shake the newcomer's hand in turn.

"A timely arrival, Mr. Allen," said Clark.

"Your honor was but lately in our thoughts," added Hughes. "That's a quotation from Shakespeare, by the way. I was just telling the major what an impact your latest cartoon has made. Our supporters are still laughing, and General Howe is probably tearing his hair out."

"You sent him a copy of the
Patriot?
"

"Yes, with a separate one for Mrs. Loring. I thought that they both deserved a souvenir of a memorable evening."

Proudfoot was waved to a chair and the others resumed their seats. After an exchange of pleasantries, Clark told them about the hardship soldiers faced at Valley Forge and suggested to Proudfoot that he might reflect it in one of his cartoons.

"A group of our men," he explained, "knee deep in snow, yet nobly enduring
the foul weather as they build their log cabin. They need something to hearten them, Mr. Allen."

"I understand, Major," said Proudfoot.

"Show them that they are not forgotten. Portray them as the heroes they are. We cannot simply laugh at the British all the time. Use your skills to inspire our men."

"I'll try."

"And so will I," decided Hughes, slapping his thigh. "I'll write an article about their dedication to duty that will invigorate everyone who reads it—or has it read to him. Mr. Allen is our master artist, but I'm a true magician with words."

"You've shown that many times," said Clark.

The major looked tired. There were dark patches beneath his eyes, and his face was drawn. Proudfoot was worried about the man's health. He knew that Clark was in constant movement between Valley Forge and Philadelphia, no matter how inclement the weather. Only a blizzard would stop him coming to the city to meet with his wide circle of agents. Aware of Proudfoot's shrewd gaze, Clark forced a smile.

"How are you enjoying life in Germantown?" he said.

"Not as much as my time with Pontius Pilate," replied Proudfoot. "The landlord at my tavern is a true loyalist. I dare not speak a word out of place for fear of offending him."

"At least, we have a printer for the newspaper again."

"Yes, Raphael Dyer is doing a fine job for us."

Hughes held up a finger. "When we needed a miracle," he said, "it came. Well, Mr. Allen, you're a prime example of that yourself. At a time when we required it most, you brought a new dimension to the
Patriot
."

"My humble talents are at your disposal."

"They are far from humble, sir."

"I agree," said Clark. "Pictures speak louder than words, and your cartoons—I mean no disrespect to you, Mr. Hughes—are more eloquent than any article."

"I endorse that sentiment wholeheartedly," said Hughes candidly. "Each of us contributes in his own way."

"Or
her
own way," added Clark. "Women must not be overlooked."

"No, they do splendid work—Miranda among them. The British may
occupy our city, but they cannot douse the flame of liberty that burns inside so many of us."

"Without the help of civilians, we would be powerless."

"I heard about the way we routed those redcoat skirmishers," said Proudfoot. "That success was only made possible by you, Major. You obviously had good intelligence."

"That's what I always seek to provide," said Clark.

"General Washington told me that you have an impeccable source."

"He's certainly in the right place to assist us."

"Who is the man?"

"A British officer who shall remain nameless," said Clark. "Like you, he came to us at a critical moment. I expect to hear from him again very soon."

Captain Jamie Skoyles had shed his sling in order to wear his dress uniform without any encumbrance. His shoulder still ached and smarted, but he was used to coping with pain. As he and Elizabeth Rainham went to the theater that evening, he made sure that she was on his left arm. They attended the play with Roderick and Lucy Tillman, of whom Elizabeth had become increasingly fond. Captain Tillman was tall and slender with a handsome face set off by a chevron of a mustache. Though they held the same rank, he was seven years younger than Skoyles. Alert, personable, and devoted to his wife, Tillman was pleasant company, and Skoyles got on well with him.

Arriving at the theater, they noticed the many guards on duty outside. General Howe was clearly ensuring that there would be no interruption to the performance this time. No profit was made from the staging of plays. The receipts were always donated to charity. On this occasion, those who would benefit were the widows, or common-law wives, of redcoats killed in recent engagements with the enemy. The British army did not forget its casualties.

The four of them had seats near the middle of the auditorium and, like everyone else, they stood up when General Howe entered with Betsey Loring. It was the first time that Elizabeth had seen the notorious mistress, and she was torn between curiosity and disapproval. Lucy watched the pair of them take their seats.

"I think it's indecent," she said. "General Howe is married."

"So is Mrs. Loring," Elizabeth reminded her.

"What sort of husband lets his wife sleep with another man?"

"An ambitious one," Skoyles replied. "Joshua Loring has become a rich man as a result of this arrangement."

"Roderick would never dream of doing such a thing."

"No, my love," he said, taking her hand.

"How can she bear to let the general near her. He's
old
."

"Old but still sprightly, if rumors are true."

"General Burgoyne had a mistress with him when we invaded from Canada," said Elizabeth, "but he didn't parade her in the same way. In that case, too, the woman had a husband."

"What happened to her marriage vows?" asked Lucy.

"They were conveniently forgotten."

Captain Tillman had taken the trouble to find out something about the play. It was a short farce called
A Will and No Will
. Written over thirty years earlier by the famous actor Charles Macklin, it was an adaptation of a French drama, and had the subtitle of
A Bone for the Lawyers
. In one respect, the performance would be unique.

"They've put back all the lines that were excised," said Tillman.

"What does that mean?" his wife asked.

"In England, the play was censored by the lord chamberlain. Certain passages were taken out because they were felt to be too salacious, or improper in some other way. You should enjoy it, Lucy."

"Why?"

"One of the characters bears your name."

Lucy giggled in anticipation. Skoyles liked her a great deal, and he was glad that Elizabeth had found such a good friend in Philadelphia. With her vivacity, Lucy Tillman was a positive tonic. The friendship had brought some stability into Elizabeth's life again and shown her that being married to a British officer had many advantages. Elizabeth was there to enjoy herself, and Skoyles wanted to share in her pleasure. It was a long time since he had seen a play of any kind, and he was in the mood for a lively and inconsequential romp. As someone sat next to him and nudged his right arm accidentally, he winced. The shoulder wound would not let him forget that it was there.

When the curtains opened and the play began, the hubbub in the audience was replaced by mild tumult on stage. The prologue to
A Will and No Will
was set in a pit, crowded with actors who whistled and banged their fists for the farce to start. Rattle and Smart got the first laugh within seconds.

       
R
ATTLE:
   
Curse catch me, Dick, if that is not a fine woman in the upper box there, ha!

       
S
MART:
     
So she is, by all that's charming
—
but the poor creature's married: it's all over with her
.

Since the lines were directed at Betsey Loring, they earned some knowing guffaws in the audience. Mrs. Loring was highly diverted, but General Howe merely scowled.

When the play commenced, it was Lucy Tillman's turn to feel self-conscious.

       
S
HARK:
     
Good morrow, Lucy
.

       
L
UCY:
        
Good morrow, Shark
.

       
S
HARK:
     
Give me a kiss, hussy. (He kisses her.)

       
L
UCY:
        
Psha
—
prithee don't tousle and mousle a body so, can't you salute without rumpling one's tucker and spoiling one's things? I hate to be tumbled
.

Uncertain whether she should laugh or feel aggrieved, Lucy settled for a splutter of amusement. It was not long before she became reconciled to the fact that her namesake was a scheming maid, intent on being one of the beneficiaries of the will. The action bowled along at speed, keeping the spectators in an almost continual state of hilarity. What caught Skoyles's attention were three rhyming couplets that had, unbeknown to him, been struck out of the play by the lord chamberlain.

The statesmen's skill, like mine, is all deceit.
What's policy in him
—
in me's a cheat.
Titles and wealth reward his noble art,
Cudgels and bruises mine
—
sometimes a cart.
'Twas, is, and will be, to the end of time,
That poverty, not fraud, creates the crime
.

There was a bald truthfulness to the lines that made them stand out for him. While the rest of the audience howled with delight at the rest of the play, Skoyles continued to think about the claim that had preceded the couplets.

       
S
HARK:
     
On my conscience, had I been bred in court, I believe I should have made as great a figure as ever Oliver Cromwell did
.

The name of the Lord Protector was anathema to everyone else in the audience, but Skoyles fancied that it would not be unwelcome at Valley Forge. Oliver Cromwell had taken up arms against a king and, in time, replaced him as head of a commonwealth. Such ideals were not dissimilar to those that impelled the revolutionary forces. They, too, sought a republic. They, too, felt oppressed by a tyrannical monarch. Alone of the spectators, Jamie Skoyles had been given food for thought.

When the play was over, the actors received an ovation and took several curtain calls. It was an ideal entertainment for a cold evening in January, and everyone was in good spirits. Skoyles turned to Elizabeth.

"Did you enjoy it?" he asked.