by Tara Johnson
Laying the card near her Bible, she slipped the ribbon from the box and lifted the lid to reveal a fragrant bouquet of pink roses and white daises.
Louisa’s eyes rounded. “Land o’ Goshen, who they from?”
“Just a friend.”
“You want me to find a pitcher and put them in some water for you?”
“If you don’t mind, that would be lovely.”
Louisa nodded curtly and whisked the beautiful flowers away. “Won’t be gone but for two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” She scurried from the room, mumbling about secret beaus, but Cadence paid her little mind.
Flowers. And a note. Her battered heart squeezed tight. She picked up Joshua’s letter and reached for her Bible, flipping through the onionskin pages until she found the verse from 1 John.
Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God.
She closed her eyes and meditated on the verse. Son of God. Daughter. Child. Adopted through the blood of Jesus. Her eyes flew open. If she was adopted by God, that meant he’d chosen her, wanted her, picked her. The sweet faces of Penelope, James, and Etta swam to her mind. Joshua had chosen them to be his family. He’d loved them too much to leave them as they were. Was that how God saw her?
Peering to see the second verse, she rustled the pages until Galatians 1:10 stared boldly into her soul.
For do I now persuade men, or God? or do I seek to please men? for if I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ.
Her hands shook, causing the words on the page to wobble under her touch.
“If I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ.”
Had the apostle Paul struggled with the same thing? Had he stood before crowds wondering if he would be accepted? Had he lived in fear of being rejected? Had he scraped to prove himself amid a society that constantly told him he couldn’t do something? He must have, for the word yet jumped out at her.
A new awareness washed over her like icy water. Had Paul been so desperate for his father’s approval that he’d done nearly anything to get it?
Trembling fingers slowly lifted to cover her mouth. She tasted salt. Why hadn’t she seen it before? All the working and striving and accomplishments . . . they weren’t just because she wanted to help hurting soldiers. She was trying to capture Father’s attention. She wanted his approval. She was sick with the need for it.
He had never seen her, truly seen her. Not the way her heart longed to be seen and known. Washington society had seen her but for all the wrong reasons.
That’s why none of it had ever been enough.
Her nightdress billowed around her as she slid to the floor and dug her fingernails into the patterned rug.
Oh, God, forgive me. What a miserable wretch she was! Claiming to love the suffering, yet all the while trying to fulfill her own selfish needs. A sob shuddered from deep inside. Her nose ran as tears dripped from her wet lashes.
You are loved.
She sniffed and looked up. She’d heard no audible voice, yet the words felt as tangible as if someone had spoken aloud.
Cadence, I see you. I know you. Let me be your Father.
The sound of her own sobs flooded her ears. Father always wanted more from her. Congressman Ramsey never ceased praising her abilities. How had she let them become her gods? She had behaved as if they had died for her.
My love for you will never change. You are my delight.
Tears streamed down her skin.
“Father, forgive me. Forgive me for seeking love outside of you. Forgive me for building an idol from others’ opinions and approval. I ask you now to be my Father. Heal me, Lord, for I am broken. Wash me clean through the sacrifice of Christ and teach me your way. Show me how to live for you alone.”
Like a feather drifting down from a still sky, peace fluttered through Cadence’s spirit. She sensed a warm presence surrounding her. A smile wobbled through her tears.
She felt Love.
Moving to the window, she pressed her face to the glass and looked into the heavens. “You are the God who sees me.”
Joshua ground his jaw and shifted his weight as he stood in the shadows of the alley three blocks past Judiciary Square Hospital. He had lost his mind. He must have, to return to meet a complete stranger in the darkness.
Still, the Knights needled him. They were a mystery. And if the man was correct, he had much to lose by dismissing them and their threats.
“Doc?”
The low voice to his right startled him. The stranger had made no other sound. He must have been waiting in the shadows. Watching. Another streetwise fellow like himself perhaps? Respect for the stranger rose.
“Yes.”
“Come.”
Joshua reached out and snagged the man’s coat sleeve in the darkness, stopping him with a harsh tug. “I’ll not take another step until you tell me your name.”
A sharp exhale. Even in the shadows, Joshua could tell the man was shorter than he was, stocky and muscular.
“My name is Edmund Warwick.”
“Mr. Warwick, why should I go with you?”
The man grew so still, Joshua feared he wouldn’t answer. Finally he spoke, his voice thick. “I used to be a Knight. That is, until I became uncomfortable with them and their way of handling business. When I defied them, they murdered my wife and son.”
“I cannot imagine a more terrible punishment. My deepest sympathies.”
Edmund stepped close, so close Joshua could smell the traces of tobacco on his breath. “If you mean that, sir, I request your help. We must throw them down.”
Joshua blinked. This Edmund was no guttersnipe. His speech was articulate, befitting the manners of a gentleman. Just what kind of men made up the Knights?
Joshua gripped his arm. “Show me.”
Edmund led him silently down a maze of alleys, pausing only on occasion to ensure they were not being followed. He scurried down a final alley and halted behind a massive building. Most of the windows were dark, save for two on the upper floors.
“Where are we?”
“At the temple.”
“What temple?”
“The Knights of the Golden Circle have secret temples in nearly every prominent town.” Edmund reached down to fiddle with a basement window, but Joshua stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.
“Which towns? You mean the capitals? Washington and Richmond?”
The faint trace of moonlight overhead illuminated the arch of Edmund’s dark brow. “No. I mean every prominent town in the North and South.”
Joshua pulled away, astounded at the information. The secret society was that extensive? He swallowed, watching as Edmund wiggled the window lock free, silently motioning him to slip inside.
Lifting a hasty prayer for safety, Joshua squeezed through the small space, quietly landing in the musty basement below. Dust tickled his nose, mingling with the odor of mold.
Edmund dropped down behind him, shook dirt from his coat, and whispered, “What I’m about to show you is something no other man save a Knight has seen. I’m showing you this because your name has been mentioned here. You’re being watched. Targeted. I have no desire to see you destroyed the way the Knights have destroyed my family.” He paused. “They may yet kill me, but you still have a chance to escape their wrath. But to do that, you need to know what you’re up against.”
Joshua’s breath thinned.
“There is to be an induction of new Knights this evening. I know of a secret place where we can observe. Say nothing. Make no sound or we will be discovered and slashed to ribbons. The only way out is the way we’ve entered. Understand?”
Joshua nodded tersely and followed the intense fellow as he pushed open a secret panel next to a shelf of tools and old lanterns. A narrow hallway not much bigger than the span of his own shoulders loomed into inky blackness.
Edmund wordlessly moved into the chasm. Joshua inhaled a fortifying breath and followed, the shadows
pressing around him. Muffled voices pounded dully through the walls, vibrating through the passageway like the faraway thud of distant drums. Joshua fought to keep his breath even in the cramped space, fighting the sickening knowledge of being trapped inside the temple’s interior walls. Like a coffin.
Edmund turned a corner and stopped him with a gentle touch. Joshua nodded, hearing the clear sound of voices just ahead. They were headed toward the heart of the Knights’ meeting rooms.
Light slowly invaded the inky tunnel, thin slits piercing the darkness. A portion of Edmund’s face was illuminated, as was his hand as he gestured for Joshua to step closer. Carefully, quietly, he slid forward.
Half-inch decorative gaps in the temple’s inner sanctum allowed them to watch unnoticed from the hidden tunnel.
The room was dark, made infinitely more so by the flickering torches placed ceremoniously along the walls. The slight stirring of air cast dancing shadows along the walls like frenzied demons. At least thirty or more men stood in a circle, murmuring quietly, most of them attired in robes of crimson velvet lined with silver lace. Ruby stars and emeralds bedecked the cuffs and hems. Each man wore a turban made of similar material. Joshua squinted to make out their identities but startled. Each Knight wore a flesh-colored mask over his face.
Large columns stood along the back wall, framed by draped fabrics. Between the columns hung the golden image of a snake curled into a circle. Skulls were mounted every ten feet throughout the sinister hall.
The thrum of voices died down as a door opened to admit five trembling men clad in average clothing. They took in the sights before them with wide eyes. A man carrying a sword stepped from the corner of the room, his mask and bearing remarkably deadlier than the others circling the cowering visitors.
“You seek admission to the secrets of a cause which will make your name, in ages yet to come, glorious in the bright page whereon the faithful historian records renowned men and famous deeds. As it is written, ‘We are like the herb which flourisheth most when it is most trampled on!’”
Joshua whispered, “I don’t recognize the quote.”
“Ivanhoe.” Edmund frowned, his gaze fixed upon the scene unfolding behind the slatted wall. “All the Knights favor it. They fancy themselves great warriors for justice and truth, like the knights of old.” The lines around his mouth deepened. “How often the oppressors delude themselves into believing they are the oppressed.”
Joshua grunted. A profound thought.
The intimidating orator continued. “Should you betray its truth, a fate more terrible than death itself awaits you! We visit revenge upon the weak and innocent. All whom you love—your wife, sister, child, aged mother, and everything on earth you call your own—all is forever lost to you if you breathe to mortal ear one word or sign of the secrets we confide in you. From this time onward, we own and hold your very life!”
Heat licked Joshua’s insides as one of the men whimpered. The throng advanced around the shivering men, chanting in demonic rhythm.
“Whoever dares our cause reveal, shall test the strength of knightly steel. And when the torture proves too dull, we’ll scrape the brains from out his skull, and place a lamp within the shell, to light his soul from here to hell. Cut him down, my men, with your good broadswords, and let the milk from his veins—we want no cowards.”
The mob rushed forward, binding all five of the men by the hands and blindfolding them before knives were drawn. As the circle passed by each man, the tips of the blades occasionally drew blood, eliciting cries from the terrified inductees. The Knights chanted, “I know thee. Break not thine oath!”
One of the poor souls attempted to bolt. With a cry, he lurched forward, only to be swiftly caught up by the band of masked demons. Blindfolded as he was, he stood not a chance of escape. Joshua longed to burst through the panel, to do something, anything to save the poor creature. Edmund must have sensed his agony, for he placed a restraining hand on his arm and silently shook his head.
The leader’s voice boomed. “Oh, so we have a coward already, have we?” He snapped his fingers, and a rope was brought from somewhere beyond the room. “Remove the blindfolds, and all shall see what is to be done with cowards and those who shirk the vow of Knighthood!”
A cry arose as the frantic man was carried into the middle of the room. His screams and writhing only seemed to feed the frenzied mob. The rope was strung from some scaffolding high above, the noose settled over the man’s twisting shoulders.
“Let this be a lesson to all . . . no one defies the Knights of the Golden Circle!”
With a shout, five men yanked the rope, pulling the screaming stranger from the floor by his neck. Joshua lurched forward only to find his body jerked backward.
Edmund hissed into his ear. “You cannot act. You must not.”
Fury filled his lungs. “But that man! Will no one stop them?”
“Such is the way of the Knights. Now you know the evil to which they stoop.”
Joshua watched helplessly through the slit in the wall as the flailing man stilled, his body growing limp as he dangled from above. The raucous shouts mellowed into eerie chants.
“Death to traitors. Blood be required. Death to traitors. Blood be required . . .”
Joshua clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists. What hellish evil could have birthed such a society? After long minutes, they lowered the body and murmured about who would receive the man’s property and personal effects. Edmund’s fingers flexed and relaxed, flexed and relaxed. Joshua could feel the man’s ire rising as they stood side by side in the tight space, watching the dreadful scene unfold. The leader turned to the other inductees with a harsh eye.
“Have we any more who yearn to dissent?”
“No! Not I!”
The four remaining men shook their heads, visibly cowering under the glare of the Knights.
“Kneel, then, and take thine oaths.”
As the trembling souls knelt to repeat the cursed words, Joshua tasted the bile rising in his throat.
“I will give my heartiest energies and my property to the cause of this order. It shall be my duty to sustain and cherish the institutions of the South against all adversaries. I do furthermore swear to bear hatred, that nothing but blood shall satisfy, against all men of the North who are not friendly to our cause. I swear to uphold the superiority of Southern gentlemen and hold inferior the Negro, the simple, the poor, the . . .”
Joshua could bear no more. “Someone must stop this madness!”
Edmund whispered, “You’ve seen enough.”
With a small push, Edmund urged him back through the dark, tomb-like tunnels inside the temple. Cool air rushed in and brushed his face when they reached the opening to the basement. The silence of the room was a welcome reprieve from the demonic revelry they’d just witnessed.
Joshua gouged his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I can’t believe what I just saw.”
Edmund’s brows lowered. “I’m ashamed to say I’ve lost count of such gruesome displays. The Knights, or Copperheads as they sometimes call themselves, are everywhere. They are the driving financial force behind the Confederacy.” Edmund stepped closer, dropping his voice to a nearly imperceptible whisper. “Political figures, congressmen, and military commanders have taken the very oath you just heard.”
Nauseated at the thought, Joshua whirled away, pacing in the confined space. “What is to be done? Trying to topple such a network . . .”
“Not easily accomplished.” Edmund shook his head. “Granted. But we can work to root out the corrupt in our own city.”
“How?”
“It won’t be easy. Their facades are many and varied. And the codes they employ are so nuanced, it’s hard to pinpoint the origin and meaning of messages, much less the messengers. Knights excel at saying one thing and meaning another.”
Joshua rubbed his chin. “Still, there must be some way.”
Edmund squinted. “I have a plan, but it will take resources.
I’ll contact you within the week.”
The stocky man moved to pull himself up through the window, but Joshua stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.
“Where shall I expect to find you?”
Edmund grunted. “Don’t look for me, Doc. I’ll find you.”
Chapter 22
“YOU SURE ABOUT THIS, ZEKE?”
His trusted friend crossed his bulging arms and nodded, his face a scowl. “I tell you, I’ve caught the man three times in as many days watching your house.”
A cold fist sank into Joshua’s gut as he stared at his friend from across his small library.
“Any possibility he’s only after me and not the children?”
Zeke leveled his gaze. “He waits until you leave for work and disappears once you come home. He’s watching the children, Doc. Looking for the opportunity to strike. What better way to crush an enemy than hit him where it hurts the most?”
Zeke was a man of few words, but what he said landed a punch. Fear, fury, nausea . . . all of it curdled through Joshua’s middle and fanned out like poisonous fingers. “I always knew someone would come after me, didn’t I?”
Zeke grunted. “We both got targets on our backs. Me, a freeman working to set my people free, and you a white man, going against those who want to keep us in chains.” He shook his head. “Ain’t the kind of thing that makes folks happy. We were bound to feel the lash of their anger at some point.”
Joshua stared out the darkened windows and absently rubbed his fingers over his mouth. He had plenty of enemies. Zeke was correct. Such a thing was expected as an abolitionist. But what if the stranger watching the house was more than an ill-tempered Confederate?
His heart squeezed as he remembered the nightmare one of the stewards had unearthed yesterday at Judiciary Square. Joshua had been making his rounds to check on patients when one of the men rushed in and urgently whispered in his ear.
“I was sprinkling lime in the waste pit when I saw a man lying facedown near the back of the building.”
Joshua had met the steward’s gaze and saw the truth already settled in his countenance. Dead.