Belle Slaughter- The Complete Series

by Tony Masero

  ‘Yes sir,’ rumbled Monette in angry embarrassment.

  ‘We need able men amongst the ranks of the Knights, Courtney. Fit and able warriors for the struggle ahead. You hear those guns outside as the Union army approaches, this is nothing to what will be coming.’ For once the General’s face showed some sign of enervation and a flush came to his pale cheeks. ‘The Golden Circle is the future for this nation and even if we are driven from the South we shall rise again following a wholesome cause of true liberty in Mexico. It is there we must direct our energies. Here we are blockaded and starved of supply. The Confederacy cannot win this war, even though I shall do my utmost to make it so but we must plan for the future of our people. That is why the bounty funds are so important. They are the seed bed for the last true redoubt of the Confederacy.’

  He sat back, wiping at the glistening stream running down from his ruined eye socket.

  ‘You must do your very best, Courtney. No philandering, or wasting your efforts in congress with some juicy Jezebel, no matter how fine she looks. Take on the mantle of a bold servant of the South, rise up from your sloth and behave as a genuine Knight of the Golden Circle and do battle for the good of your own kind.’

  Duly chastised, Monette sat up straight at the rallying cry and felt a wave of duty-filled jingoism running through his florid form.

  ‘I shall, sir. On my oath, I shall.’

  ‘Good, Courtney. I’m sure you will. Now, get along and be about your business. See we are well supplied with cash for our needs.’

  As Monette left his commander, Kirby was making his way on foot towards the sound of the guns.

  He was dressed as a Confederate infantry sergeant thanks to Lomas, who had also managed to find them a small house to rent on the Shockoe Creek side of town. It was one of the better areas of the city and Lomas believed that amongst the fine houses their presence was less likely to arouse interest as many of the wealthier residents had already fled in anticipation of the town being overrun and falling under Federal control.

  They had a clearer idea of the form of the campaign now and Kirby knew that the Union forces were being forced back from their original almost overwhelming position. This was the result of the commander General McClellan’s dithering, partly thanks to his own over cautious attitude and also some bad intelligence. The main thrust of the advance, Kirby had been told, was based on the northern side of the peninsular. Yet still, close as they were, the General had no plans ready for a final assault on the capital and in the interim the Confederate army under its new commander, Robert E. Lee had moved in and were making successful advances along the Shenandoah Valley. As Kirby struggled to reach the Union troops alongside the banks of the York River he did not know that the indecisive McClellan was already considering moving his base south.

  The first signs of conflict for Kirby were when he stumbled into a Confederate field hospital situated in a thick grove of trees behind the lines. It was an awesome scene of carnage that Kirby came across. A blood streaked surgeon stood before him in an open sided tent, his unfortunate victim lying screaming on a table before him and held down by four sturdy men. The exhausted doctor looked up unseeing at Kirby for a long moment as he wiped his stained surgical saw across the bloody apron around his middle and then he bent again to begin his work.

  It was a flyblown butcher shop more akin to an abattoir than a hospital. Bloody and flayed amputated limbs lay piled in heaps before the tent, thrown like trash outside the tented hospital in the flurry of emergency. The grass itself around the operating tent was stained red by the flow of blood, the green lost from sight under the fountains that sprung from the surgeon’s incisions. There, on that appalling carpet lay ranked the many wounded awaiting their turn before the doctor’s ministrations and Kirby saw the full array of the terrible effects of modern warfare. The soft lead bullets that splintered bone in ghastly wounds and necessitated the expedient method of amputation rather than time-consuming surgery. Deadly canister shot that ripped soft flesh apart with the hail of ball that spread out mercilessly on explosion. Men lay in their hundreds with such wounds, wailing in anguish without attention or water as orderlies rushed in with a continuous chain of stretcher born patients.

  An ugly inferno scene and Kirby, unnoticed in the general mayhem, slipped on through. There were Negroes at work beyond the tent, conscripted field workers given the unpleasant task of dealing with the dead and here they resorted to wheelbarrows to carry the remains, sometimes two or three at a time carrying them to waiting wagons bound for a collective grave. The Negroes lay of their grim work and stood, passively looking at Kirby with large sorrowful eyes as he passed by. Silent though they were, their accusation appeared total. How could any Christian man inflict such absolute horror on another? They seemed to be asking.

  He came upon a lone soldier, separated from the others and propped up against a tree on the outskirts of the grove. The man still lived and his pale grey eyes stared at Kirby with glazed intensity. There was nothing below his upper lip only a hanging river of blood and tissue where his entire lower jaw had been shot away. He motioned at Kirby, hand held out in a pleading gesture. He was attempting to make sound from the jutting upper head that appeared grotesquely imbalanced seated on its missing lower half.

  The only succor Kirby could offer the wretched man was a hand of comfort on the shoulder as he passed by. It was a harrowing experience for Kirby who had already seen enough death and suffering in his life but this oasis of horror was on a scale beyond his experience. He hardened his heart to the atrocities with the determination that at least the information he carried might bring the devastating effects of the war to an earlier conclusion and with those encouraging thoughts he pressed on.

  What awaited him was largely unknown but he guessed his trickiest point would be when he came upon the fluid lines of battle themselves and his hope was to make his way through at some point on the Chickahominy River, the central of the three water courses that ran down the peninsular and divided the two armies. Once across, Kirby believed he would be safely within the Union lines.

  He trekked on through open farmland meeting everywhere the hurried bustle of troops and cavalry either bound for the front or lying exhausted and drained by the fighting. Stumbling wounded, blood stained and ragged staggered towards him as they moved to the rear, either alone or helped by less incapacitated companions. Palls of smoke hung on the horizon and isolated farms burned, the livestock lying bloated and dead around the roaring blaze. Amidst the fog of hazy smoke, split pole fences lay broken and scattered like jagged teeth and barns were holed and blasted roofless from the relentless cannon fire. Here and there he came across sudden collections of bodies, whole companies lying together in groups fallen under sniper ambush or caught in the swathing blast of cannon shell.

  It was like walking though a sea of death for Kirby and always there was the nearing rumble of gunfire.

  As Kirby made his difficult way through the battleground Lomas meanwhile had been entered as a Knight of the Golden Circle and after attending all the pseudo-mystical arrangements of his initiation had finally discovered the true leader of the organization in Richmond. Both he and Belle discussed it as they stood in the upper rooms of their rented house and Belle experimented with her widow’s clothing.

  ‘My God!’ she muttered, looking at herself in the full-length mirror. ‘Must I wear this?’

  The black skirt was a dense black beehive shape in sheer wool and belled sleeves. It came with a tight waist and fitted bodice that did nothing to disguise Belle’s fulsome figure but merely enhanced it. Around her shoulders she wore a shawl in an attempt to disguise this winning attribute and on her head a small hat that supported a thick veil hanging down to her breast. Under the veil her long golden hair was pomaded and pinned up out of sight into a bun at her neck.

  ‘Looks fine to me,’ grinned Lomas.

  ‘It’s stifling,’ complained Belle.

  ‘Maybe, but it keeps you well hidden. Kinda
mysterious looking too, maybe that’ll appeal to our guy.’

  ‘Tell me more about the man.’

  Lomas shrugged, ‘Major General Lamb, he was pretty much a hero in his day, during the thing with Mexico. He was in the battle for Veracruz and made a lot of good contacts who were serving with him down there at the same time, Lee, Longstreet, Jackson. Top-notch officers. Served with the cavalry in Texas until the secession and then went over to the Confederacy. He came out of Florida originally but was military schooled in Virginia. Went on to West Point and came out a brevetted second lieutenant, after that it was a pretty rapid rise up the rank chain. He suffered a minor wound at Bull Run that was enough to get him noticed and brought to Richmond. Took a saber cut to the face down in Mexico though, so he ain’t so pretty looking.’

  Belle wrinkled her lip, ‘That sounds real nice.’

  ‘Not much,’ agreed Lomas. ‘He’s smart though. Misguided but smart. Don’t underestimate him, Belle. He didn’t get to be head honcho of the Golden Circle by being no dumb-ass.’

  ‘So how do I play this?’

  ‘The grieving widow, I guess. That’s what you’re dressed for, but remember Monette is under his command so keep yourself covered at all times. It wouldn’t do for him to walk in and see you sitting there in all your glory. Basically, I think you’ve got to appeal to the General’s vanity. You know how to do it, Belle. Lost and forlorn and in need of a shoulder to cry on.’

  Belle nodded, the veil rising and falling in a wave. ‘I know. Don’t worry it’ll be fine. You heard any word from Kirby yet?’

  Lomas shook his head, ‘Too soon. He’ll have a ways to go before he can get back to us. It’ll be a hell hole out there if he’s stuck in the middle of the fighting.’

  ‘That’s a little worrying.’

  Lomas studied her as best he could with her expression hidden away under the veil. ‘I thought you two were on the verge of falling apart back in that coal yard.’

  ‘Oh, its just his damned attitude,’ Belle said, throwing up the veil, her eyes flashing angrily. ‘He thinks we can do this job by me playing the virgin queen.’

  ‘Ah, its only that he cares for you, Belle. I ain’t ever seen him take a thing so hard. Kirby Langstrom jealous, why I never thought I’d see the day.’

  ‘What’s to be jealous of?’

  ‘He doesn’t want to think less of you, I reckon. He’s in love with you, girl. Allow the man some slack, will you?’

  ‘I think he just wants another notch on his gun, is all,’ Belle said indifferently.

  ‘Not so, ma’am. No siree, Kirby ain’t like that. He’s got it bad and you’d better believe it.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Belle wriggled uncomfortably but whether it was the dress or her embarrassment Lomas could not tell. ‘He’s nice enough, that’s for sure but as for the other, well I just don’t know.’

  ‘He cares, Belle and in my book that’s good enough.’

  ‘Maybe I want a little more, Lomas. I’m not ready for the whole cooking and sewing and breeding a bevy of brats in some sod roofed frontier hut. I had enough of that as a youngster. It took me a long while to get away from that stinking hole in the Appalachians and now I’m kind of used to fine clothes and good eats. I don’t reckon I want to go back to scrimping and wearing broadcloth and hand-me-downs.’

  ‘You’ll see, honey. When you’re as old as me you’ll be only too happy to content yourself with a caring body, whatever covers it.’

  ‘And I suppose you’ve got some sweet little thing tucked away somewhere have you?’ Belle asked slyly.

  ‘Maybe,’ Lomas answered in a vague manner. ‘But never mind that, right now we have to get you up there with Herbert Lamb so you can try your winning ways on him. What we need is information, Belle. Who his contacts are, particularly in the north. We have to crush this bounty jumping ring before it takes a hold and undermines the whole army, let alone allowing these Rebels to form themselves a bolt-hole state in Mexico.’

  ‘You’ve arranged for me to see him?’

  ‘Yes, this afternoon, I’m to present you within the hour. I know it’s not allowing much time but this is urgent. Now, listen up, you’re to be Louisa Moresome, the supposed widow of one of the Knights, a fellow called Josh Moresome. He had just joined up and so wasn’t well known in the Circle. He was an ordinary soldier, a corporal who was killed up at Seven Pines, they lost over nine hundred men dead that day and four hundred of them are missing including your late husband.’

  ‘Where’s he from? Somewhere I know?’

  ‘Maybe, it’s in Tennessee. Little place, barely on the map, called Annalein.’

  ‘I don’t know it but I reckon I can fudge around that.’

  ‘You won’t be alone, I doubt if anybody’s even heard of the place it don’t have no more than a store and an outhouse as far as I can determine.’

  ‘What did he do for a living? And are there any children?’

  ‘Horse wrangler is what he’s listed as with two little ones. No names or gender I’m afraid.’

  ‘That one we’ll have to walk around then.’

  ‘Do your best, Belle.’

  ‘I always do, Lomas.’

  ‘May I present Mrs. Moresome, General,’ Lomas bowed slightly and levered Belle forward with a gentle touch on the elbow.

  ‘Ma’am,’ said Lamb, rising politely from his desk.

  ‘I bring the lady to your attention, General, as she has just lost her husband in our service and is in some need of assistance. I hope you may help.’

  ‘Will you take a seat, Mrs. Moresome?’ asked Lamb, indicating that Lomas should bring a chair over before his desk.

  ‘Too kind,’ mumbled Belle, lifting a handkerchief under the edge of her veil and pretending a tear.

  ‘I am most sorry to hear of your loss, ma’am,’ Lamb said, sitting again as he studied the black clothed figure before him. ‘A tragedy for your family I’m sure.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Belle stifled a sob.

  ‘Be assured these boys shall not be forgotten, Mrs. Moresome, you may have my word on it,’ Lamb promised. ‘They shall go down in history as true heroes of the Confederacy.’

  ‘It shall not do my little one’s back in Annalein much good I fear, General,’ whispered Belle.

  ‘No, at first not perhaps. But in time, when we are victorious then they shall appreciate the freedoms gained by their father’s sacrifice.’

  Lamb was spouting the expected platitudes but all the time he spoke he studied Belle, trying to ascertain from her posture what manner of woman she was.

  ‘Forgive me General,’ interrupted Lomas. ‘I have other matters to attend to and perhaps it would be better if you spoke in private with the lady. Will you excuse me?’

  ‘Of course, Mister Bell. Be on your way, I’m sure Mrs. Moresome will be perfectly all right in my company. Is that not so, my dear?’

  ‘Thank you, yes,’ mumbled Belle.

  Lomas bowed his departure, ‘Your servant, General. Ma’am.’

  As Lomas left, gently closing the door behind him, Lamb dabbed at his leaking eye with his handkerchief.

  ‘We both weep, Mrs. Moresome. I from this wretched eye of mine and you for your lost husband. I fear this ruined face you see before you may cause distress, for this I apologize.’

  Belle reckoned that despite his florid form and frozen features Lamb was playing at being the remembered gallant from his youth.

  ‘Oh, no, sir,’ she gushed. ‘Your wounds were earned in honor bound. They are marks of courage and bravery in service of our nation, I can only see them as awards of distinction.’

  Lamb inclined his head in gratitude. ‘Now, how may I help you, ma’am?’

  ‘This is difficult,’ Belle paused. ‘I intrude and am embarrassed to come before you, General.’

  ‘Please, speak freely. You are the widow of one of our brave soldiers I can do less than hear you out.’

  ‘My Josh is lost to us and believed dead on that cold battlefield and
I fear I am left in a sorry state….’

  ‘Josh? You refer to your husband as Josh? Surely he is full-named Joshua?’

  ‘Yes…. yes,’ Belle stumbled, wondering what he meant. ‘Joshua is his given name. The abbreviation was an affectionate term I had for him.’

  ‘Of course, forgive me; I have an exactitude over such matters. I like to see the ‘i’s’ dotted and the ‘t’s’ crossed.’

  ‘The failings of a bold commander and in no need of apology, sir. Why, only with such concern over detail are battles won I am sure.’

  ‘Precisely. Pray continue.’

  ‘Josh…. Joshua is newly joined to your organization. This news he has made me under the strictest vow of secrecy. I hope I may speak openly?’

  ‘Organization? I am at a loss, ma’am. What organization?’

  ‘Why the Knights of the Golden Circle, sir. Josh was so proud; he positively glowed when he received initiation. I can tell you, General; I shall remember that night for the rest of my life. Josh was so…. forceful. It was as if he had found his true calling and was at last a committed member of a band with purpose and resolve.’

  ‘I see,’ said Lamb doubtfully.

  Belle leaned forward eagerly, her hands resting flat on the desktop. ‘I pray you do not think ill of him for imparting the knowledge, General. If I were a man I would gladly stand alongside for such a worthwhile endeavor. We must resist the invaders with all effort,’ Belle slapped her hand down angrily on the desk to press her point. ‘And failing that, find sanctuary in a land where all may have the freedoms we so enjoy here in the South. For such a cause, I too would gladly offer my body in sacrifice on the altar of war.’

  Lamb’s one good eye opened wide at the outburst, ‘Well said, ma’am. Well said indeed.’

  Belle retired coyly, shrinking back and dropping her hands on her lap. ‘With such men as you at our head, General. We cannot fail; I am in awe of such as you. You are like those golden gods of the Greek age, those mythical warriors who stood alone against the most trying of times.’ Belle reckoned she was going a little over the top but thought she may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb and threw caution to the winds. ‘I fall at your feet in sublime adoration and subjugation,’ she finished with a gasping whisper and her head lowered.