The Blood of Heaven (41 page)

None at all, sir, said Clark, raising his voice to be heard above the laughter of the guests. I only suppose you selected Irishmen for the quality of their language. I only wonder when you’ll give us your next play.

Workman winced at this, let his attention be drawn away, and I leaned to Clark to ask him if it was true, was he a congressman?

Absolutely, he said. This mick takes his seat in the fall. Clark took up my copy of the play from where I’d crammed it among the china, shook the crumbs from the cover, and began to thumb through its pages.

See, said Clark, leaning in and pointing to a page, it’s better to be humble in such instances.

His finger tapped for me to read a line in the frontispiece, which humbly stated that it was considered by the best critics a work unexcelled in the realm of literature.

Impressive, is it not, for a play that only stood for a night, Clark said, slapping shut the book and returning it to me. Reuben heard this and grunted. He was facing up-table, trying no doubt to catch a snippet of business amid the performance and guffaws.

Workman stood again, glass in hand, and proposed a toast to our new congressman. Clark bowed as we returned it.

Now, said our host, is a happy day, to have support in congress for our enterprise.

The guests murmured for a moment, then went hushed.

I speak freely not because of wine—though that’s been quite fine, eh, gentlemen?—but because I know the sentiments of all you gathered here. Whether you’ve attended formal meetings of the Association or not, you have been spoken to by members and your character deemed hospitable to our designs. Is this not the case?

Hear, Hear! came the voices of the guests. The more flamboyant tossed about huzzahs. I kept quiet and so did Reuben, whose hands were flat upon the tablecloth, fingers drumming.

Excellent, said Workman. Now the project moves apace. I have lately received from Colonel Burr a letter detailing our new fortune. At this moment he stays in the house of Senator John Smith of Cincinnati, whose shipping concern has been awarded the contract to ship arms to all the American forts along the Mississippi. These shipments will be, shall we say, diverted on occasion. So you see, gentlemen, we shall not want for shot or powder!

More cheers, huzzahs, clinking of glassware. Reuben’s jaw was jumping as he listened and his hands were bunched in fists.

Workman continued, And it has come to my attention that Senator Smith and our dear Colonel Burr have entered into a compact to build a canal around the falls of Louisville. A grand undertaking, which in time will provide us with profits and speed the access of settlers and volunteers to our country.

The blood was gone from Reuben’s knuckles, and I thought I could hear, above the clinking glasses, the sound of his teeth grinding.

Daniel Clark stood. But, sir, such a
grand
undertaking will no doubt take time to yield. And what shall we do for financing in the mean?

A smile spread across Judge Workman’s face and he put a hand to the shoulder of Lewis Kerr. Why, he said, we’ll just rob the Bank, won’t we!

The men only began to laugh when Workman and Kerr signaled it with their own. I thought Reuben might overturn the table.

Mirth aside, said Workman, I shouldn’t be concerned over financing, Mister Clark.

And what of the governor? said Clark. Does he still stand with us?

Workman frowned, glancing to his glass, now empty. He returned his eyes to the guests and said, Governor Claiborne is a mauled bitch. He shrinks at whatever master’s hand is raised.

The table squealed with Reuben’s rising, fists bunched and pressing to the linen. Gentlemen, he said. I know that I’m a ways on the outside of this project, but would you grudge me a question?

Mister Kemper, said Judge Workman, by all means. Let’s hear it, so we might make clear to all who have similar misgivings.

Reuben looked for a moment at the judge, then swept his eyes over the guests and started. You’ve read me right, sir, to say I’ve got misgivings. Don’t fear, though, I won’t go running my mouth. I know for a fact that Mister Claiborne damns the very ground I stand on. But he has been forthright in his dislike of me, while a man like John Smith—by God he’s in the pocket of the dons and the worst back-dealer and smiling liar in the country. And while I’m at it I might add General Wilkinson to the measure as a pocket-man. He sold my brothers out on their first try at a similar business. With such a great enterprise at hand, how can we put our trust in these men?

The guests went murmuring until Workman stood and spoke. Well put, he said. But, Mister Kemper, the thing about pocket-men is that they can always be plied to the side whose pockets are deeper. I wager to say that the Spaniards’ are growing rapidly thin, with little chance for them to fill again, while our own have the prospect of being so loaded down with cash that these men will have to fight to keep their heads above it. They see that, and so cast their lot in with us. And you must also not forget that with us they have the prospect for glory—isn’t that right, my friends! And glory, I trust you agree, Mister Kemper, is no mean prize.

Glory, said Reuben, working the scars in his face. And is this glory to be the separation of the western states or the acquisition of West Florida and Mexico? I’m hearing too many different stories and designs for my liking. From the sound of it tonight, we mean to take New Orleans.

Workman plainly was fighting down anger. In the meantime I sat there, hidden behind Reuben, damning that everything had to come back to Smith. That he couldn’t put it away for this.

I’ll say this, Reuben continued, because I would have no part in any action disloyal to the United States. I will happily help enrich her borders, or set up a more friendly country on them. But I will not put asunder what God Himself has joined.

And there, behind this inexplicably voiced supposed loyalty, there was a hint of Baptist boyhood. It worked upon the guests, his preaching, and if some didn’t share in his misgivings, they had begun to. Myself, I knew it for a lie.

Workman brought his full might and judicial tone to what he said next: Mister Kemper brings up valid points. And we must all recognize that out of all of us, barring Mister Gutierrez, he and his brothers have suffered the most because of the Spanish dominion.

Reuben winced and worked his scars again as my own were being gawked at.

Hear! Hear! said the guests.

And Mister Kemper’s misgivings, said Workman, are indeed justified and welcome. For they give me the opportunity to state once and for all that we will foment no disunion. Our enterprise is not to separate the states, but to add to their bounty, to do, as our president has expressed many times, the work of driving monarchy and European influence from the continent.

Yes! cried Gutierrez, raising his glass so that the wine flipped from out the lip and doused a nearby candelabra. The guests were clapping. Reuben still stood, buffeted by their applause for Workman’s words.

We few, said the judge, we happy few; we band of brothers must hold steadfast to our lofty goal!

Clark nudged me, whispering, At least he has enough sense to quote a better playwright.

However, Workman said, we cannot in our high-mindedness dispense with the more immediate needs of supplying an army.

Then it’s true, said Reuben.

If, Mister Kemper, we are to enact this project—

Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war? Reuben interrupted.

Workman, ignoring him, pressed on. If we are to set out for Vera Cruz, Mobile, and Pensacola, we need ships in port. We have that in New Orleans. And if we are to get our army to these ships, we cannot simply march them to the wharf without notice, nor even gather them in the city itself if the authority here is hostile towards us. No, sir, if the Isle of Orleans is taken, it will not be in our possession long, but be returned when hostilities have ceased and we are victorious.

You won’t hold it long, said Reuben, with every damn American fort turned against you.

We won’t have to hold anything, said Workman. We know the number of our national forces nearby, and now, thanks to Senator Smith, we have control of their provision. Furthermore, as we will take Baton Rouge first, I believe the government of the United States will see the worth of our project. As we offer everything but ask nothing, the government can sit back and apologize to the Spaniards for our actions while we do the work the army should be doing. And might I add, Mister Kemper, that you have been made a party to our project despite your failures in a similar effort and because of the recommendation of the same John Smith to whom you seem so opposed.

Reuben stayed standing after Workman had sat. He wouldn’t be alive to recommend if I’d had my way.

Bull-shit, I said.

The guests about who heard all started at my words, and Reuben, still facing the judge, could only give me a glaring corner of his eye.

I am sorry to hear that, Mister Kemper, Workman said. But if we cannot count on your support, then can we at least trust in your confidence?

By my honor, said Reuben, easing himself back into his chair, where he burned beside me with such anger as to melt the iced cream which followed. Sweet wine and thin glasses of liquor were given us by the slaves, and Workman, his good humor returned, announced that he had a treat in store for us all. His pen had been busy of late, so he said, and he’d gathered up a troupe of rather interesting players to give us the first act of his new play. And so we were led into the large sitting room, where were arranged at the front various sofas and plush chairs for us to sit in while we watched the show.

When all were seated, an Indian girl, naked save for a string of shells and the hair of her mound braided with glass beads, stepped out from the back of the house and began to declaim her half-memorized lines of dialogue, tripping over what was meant to be simple, savage speech. Satire upon satire. Reuben and I sat at the back of the others, the anger in his face as clear as the shivering of the naked girl. She was cold, her paps puckered and risen. Her beads and shells tinkled pitifully together as she lamented being made a sacrifice to the great spirit. When four of Workman’s Negroes, painted a terrible red and decked in the garb of braves, came in bearing the sacrificial totems, Reuben stood and made for the door.

Before I could follow after him, Clark caught me by the arm, saying, You should’ve said your piece.

You can let them know. I’m for it.

Do you think you can talk some sense into Reuben?

Workman watched us while he coached his players in whispers, waving for the Indian girl’s arms to be held above her head.

Does he really make a damn? I said.

Clark said, That much depends on you.

He let me go and I slipped out as the girl was being tied to the stake.

And that’s what you want, is it, killer? To throw in with Smith?

It was past mid-night and we were on Bourbon, the lone streetlamp dangling in the distance near the Carondelet Canal. Reuben was in such a rush to be out of Workman’s that he’d pulled his coat only partway on; it flapped heavily as he swung his arms about and raged. He said Smith like it was the worst of cusses, fit only to be spit from his mouth at one of the many trash-heaps we passed which spilled from out the alleyways in drifts sweetly stinking in their rot.

I said, All I’m saying is we don’t let what’s past come in the way of us being a part of something that will work.

Past? he said. Past? It may be past to you and Sam but I live with that bastard’s usury and treachery each day. I just got my fucking suit against him put in the American courts, for God’s sake! You don’t think that’s why he’s recommended me to them? No, he wants me placated so I don’t beat him with the law.

And whose court will it be in? I said. You think Workman will speed your case right through, eh? Tie up one of Burr’s financiers?

Reuben doubled over in his anger. God damn it, I am trapped. This twisted world and that cursed name. I’ll never be rid of it.

The few people out that night scuttled from our warring path like roaches to the walls of the houses, disappearing into the dark as though they feared the light of the distant, bobbing lamp. We came to a corner, not a block from the canal, and we were full of meanness.

I won’t be God-damned part of it, he said.

Who gives a shit? I said. Smith will always be there, whether it’s him or another bastard in government. They’re all the same. Why not throw in when they’re onto something good?

You prove yourself wrong, he said. They are all the same, and that’s the thing! Your precious Colonel Burr? He’s worst of all.

He’s a great man, I said.

Toasted in the same breath as Smith and Wilkinson. They’re rotten great men.

It’s your people doing the toasting, I said. Your Association.

It’s not mine anymore, said Reuben. Tonight I’ve parted interests.

Well, I said, I’m not as weak as you.

Reuben stopped beside a shuttered coffee-stall and glared at me, swung one fist and buckled the paneling. The latch fell from the shutters and clattered to the ground. A voice called out from above for us to clear out.