“You’re a Freemason member?” Valnor managed to ask through his profound shock.
The question prompted Washington to lean forward on his elbows with his half-empty glass held between them. He swirled the amber liquid around a few times before answering, “Oh yes, for many years now.”
“What degree?”
“Oh, I think you’re far too intuitive a creature not to know the answer to your question already,” Washington said. “As long as I’ve known you, you were always a man far ahead of your time.”
“What do you mean?” Valnor asked. He did not particularly care what the answer was; he needed to buy himself some time to think through this whipsaw change of events.
“You saw that a minor skirmish in the frontier territories could lead to a full-blown rebellion against the crown here in the Americas. The logistical genius you showed in moving those cannons to Boston was nothing short of miraculous. Then during the fighting your tactics were unheard of, as revolutionary as the war we were fighting,” Washington recounted.
“Every one of us came up in the British school of warfare,” Washington went on. “We marched in lines, fired in lines, and died in lines, but those lines never existed for you. Your new age tactics floated our army back and forth across the Delaware making midnight raids. Your grand strategic vision for joint operations with our army, the French army and their navy brought the fighting to a spectacular end at Yorktown. Everything you do shows an almost unnatural vision.”
That word, ‘unnatural’, made the hairs on the back of Valnor’s neck stand on end. “Glad you approve, but you give me too much credit.”
“Not at all,” Washington persisted and even raised his glass in salute. “Much credit falls to me, but I know…and you know…it was that unnatural ability of yours that won this little rebellion of ours.”
“There was nothing little about your rebellion,” a voice declared from just over Valnor’s shoulder. He recognized the voice, but his mind could not allow for the possibility that the man he expected to see when he turned his head was actually standing there.
“General Clinton,” Valnor managed to utter. He wore unassuming, civilian clothes, but it was absolutely him in the flesh.
“That is Sir Henry Clinton now,” Washington corrected before scooting deeper into the booth to allow a seat for the newcomer.
There the three of them sat in silence. Valnor occupied one side of the table, while the two former commanding officers of opposing armies sat on the other. The surreal moment nearly sent him dashing for the exit.
Instead, he glanced around the tavern looking for trouble he felt certain lurked nearby given his history with Henry. To his surprise, no one in the establishment paid them any undue notice. It was just the three of them, and Valnor surmised that if they wanted to kill him, then the mischief would already be done. He resolved to stay and learn something from this unexpected conversation.
“You’re not just any Freemason member are you?” Valnor asked of General Washington.
“I am the Freemason member in the Americas,” Washington amended with pride.
There was only one reason this man would make that admission to him, and that realization sent an arctic shiver up Valnor’s spine. “How long have you know who I am? Back in the frontier?”
“After that, but before we met again in Philadelphia,” Washington answered with a calm serenity about him. “I told you, one never forgets their first drink with the devil.”
“That’s a little harsh,” Valnor said with false indignation.
“What would you call a creature with an unnatural ability to come back to life?” Henry Clinton asked.
“I believe untold millions the world over call him Jesus Christ and pray to him every Sunday,” Valnor volleyed back. “Why attribute a darker nature to it?”
“Jesus saves. Our Masonic lineage, on the other hand, tells countless tales of devastation, exploitation, and outright murder at your hands. That is the devil’s work,” Henry Clinton insisted.
“We could sit here all night debating the virtues of a greater good served by some unfortunate events, but I suspect that will go nowhere in the end. Tell me this, though. How did you know?”
“Like I said, you were a man ahead of his time. Add to that the fact that you always seemed to be in the thick of things, stirring the pot for some greater purpose. Then there was your appearance in the Americas to cause trouble not long after your death in Edinburgh. All of that made the math fairly simple to conclude that you were one and the same creature,” Washington boasted.
“If you’ve known for so long, why not kill me or capture and hold me like your hero, Juan Ponce de León, did back in the day. Now that was a true act of evil if I’ve ever heard of one.”
“Like I said, I never could have accomplished this independence for our American nation on my own. No human being could,” Washington admitted. “We needed the help from an unnatural being - you.”
“Why fight the devil and his vast powers when you can have him do all of the difficult work for you?” Sir Clinton added. “Well done, by the way. I never in a million years would have thought independence for the American colonies was possible.”
“It was a simple matter given all of the strategic and tactical blunders you made. I had attributed them to extreme incompetence on your part, but now I know it was intentional. Kind of takes some pride out of the achievement for me,” Valnor said, hoping to elicit a snap reaction from the former British officer to reveal if he and Washington had been working together the whole time.
Clearly they had not, Valnor concluded upon seeing Clinton’s cheeks burn bright red at the challenge to his integrity. “I would never throw away the lives of men under my command with an intentional blunder, not even for my Masonic brothers. I was not admitted to the 34th degree circle until after the war. I knew nothing of the American plan until the peace treaty was signed.”
That was useful information, Valnor thought before asking the loaded question hanging between the three men, “What now? Do you intend to throw me out another window?”
“I’d like nothing more than to do exactly that, but I’m afraid my brother takes exception to that idea,” Henry answered with a deferential nod to his Masonic superior.
“I’m afraid my honor can’t abide killing a man while I share a drink with him,” Washington said with the gracious smile of a man who knew he owned the moment.
“Just invited me for a drink to brag then I see. You used me during the war, and you stole the loyalties of Paul right out from under me, didn’t you?” Valnor recounted with as little emotion shining through his words as possible. Then he cocked his head to the side to steal a little of the general’s masterful moment. “Boasting is a bit beneath you, don’t you think?”
“My integrity won Paul over in the face of your actions, which are bereft of anything noble or decent.”
“Padding his pocket with a fat artists commission didn’t hurt either, I suspect,” Valnor countered.
“No it did not,” Washington confirmed. “The point is that I own your little protégé spiritually and financially.”
“And now with the legend of his winning this new nation its freedom, the Freemasons own this new American continent spiritually and financially as well,” Sir Henry Clinton added.
Valnor was satisfied that the last exchange gave him what he needed to know. He was about to stand up and leave the encounter when George Washington reached across the table and snared his arm in an iron grip. “Let this be a lesson to you and your kind. We may not be able to kill you, but our circle now wields enough power and knowledge to beat you. We did it here, and we will do it anywhere from here on out. Make no mistake of that fact.”
“Now do us all a favor and crawl back into the evil hole you came out of and stay there,” Clinton added before the two of them stood from the table to exit the establishment.
“Not a chance. I’m just getting started,” Valnor replied to their backs. The words
may have sounded like a hollow threat, but the determined intent behind them was anything but hollow. Valnor gained some useful insights, but Washington only came to gloat. Valnor understood men like this, and he knew how to salvage the situation. The American continents would not fall to the Freemasons under his watch.
Chapter 46: Poison Pills
“The ballots have been counted, and I have the distinct honor of announcing to this body that, by unanimous vote from the Electoral College, the first President of our Unites States of America will be Mr. George Washington,” John Hancock announced to the congressional body assembled in New York City.
A resounding roar of cheers and applause erupted from the congressmen present that seemed to rattle the very foundation of the spacious building. The man’s popularity as a leader of men was without equal in the Americas, and likely the world over. Valnor added his own clapping even though it lacked any hint enthusiasm. He stayed up all night, racking his brain to formulate a viable plan that resulted in the inner-circle Freemason not gaining control of this government, but to no avail.
The tide of history proved too strong to fight considering there were far more stories of successful generals becoming kings and dictators than of successful generals who became retired generals. That fact ruled out a direct attack on Washington’s plans by disrupting his election as President. However, knowing the man’s affection for his own honor and legacy left wide open the possibility of delivering a glancing blow from the side.
“Our next order of business is the election of our first Vice President,” John Hancock went on once the applause tapered to the point he could be heard. “We have three candidates: the distinguished John Adams, Mr. Thomas Jefferson, and Mr. Aaron Burr.”
Valnor allowed a faint grin at John’s subtle attempt to lend support to his friend Mr. Adams by labeling him as ‘distinguished’, versus the others as simply ‘mister’. Ah politics and the petty little games we play.
“Unfortunately, while the Presidential election was unanimous, the vote for Vice President was inconclusive. This leaves the designation of that office for this governing body to decide by majority vote. We will now hear statements for and against the three candidates before taking a vote. I will remind everyone in this chamber to conduct themselves as gentlemen and refrain from any personal or disparaging remarks,” John Hancock cautioned with a stern voice before opening the floor to debate.
Hours crawled by as advocates for each man espoused the virtues of their candidate. Convincing as the arguments were, it quickly became apparent to everyone present that the three separate camps were deeply entrenched. Everybody knew that the Vice President would be Washington’s heir apparent. The stakes were high, and the floor speeches grew more negative and disparaging toward the opponents with every speaker it seemed.
Valnor recalled the election of Pope Gregory X that he participated in some 500 years earlier, which saw the voting cardinals sequestered for over two years before white smoke signaled their selection. In fact, four of the voting cardinals died of old age before the matter was settled. Even that sordid affair seemed to go smoother by comparison. Nobody was yielding an inch, which prompted Valnor to nudge his friend and fellow Sons of Liberty member to take his turn on the floor.
“Have a seat, Mr. Van Ness, we’ve heard your kind words for Mr. Burr and you’re now just repeating yourself,” John Hancock said. Van Ness tried to continue, but had his words drowned out by the banging of John’s gavel. The beating did not cease until Van Ness took his seat. “The chair now recognizes Representative Patrick Henry as the next speaker. The floor is yours, sir, and I remind you to keep it civil.”
“I’m afraid I cannot lend my support to any of the candidates,” Patrick Henry began.
After hours spent listening to nothing but flattering words, the prospect of hearing something different grabbed the room’s attention. “The only choices I see before me are three men jockeying for the best position from which to seize power once our undisputed leader’s term as President expires. Their motivation for the office comes from personal ambition rather than a desire to serve their fellow man in a greater cause.”
“Sit down then if you don’t have an opinion,” someone from Aaron Burr’s side of the room called out.
“I do have an opinion to share, a profound one in fact,” Mr. Henry countered while glancing back at Valnor to gain assurance for his next statement. “Our new nation is a fragile one. We have all read about, and most have personally seen infighting and power struggles bring down nations and governments the world over. This, what we have been witnessing all daylong right here, is exactly that and I do not believe our new nation cannot withstand it. We have a clear leader among us, Mr. Washington, but once his terms ends I fear for our nation’s future. Fame seekers and wealth hoarders such as these men vying for the Vice Presidency will be the end of this new land we all fought so hard to establish.”
“What would you have us do then?” John Hancock asked.
Mr. Henry allowed the question to occupy every mind in the chamber for a moment before giving his answer. “Make Mr. Washington’s election as President a lifetime appointment.”
“Hear me out, now hear me out,” Patrick Henry shouted over the roar of objections his statement evoked. “There is no one on this continent that I have greater faith in than that man, George Washington,” he stated with an emphatic arm and finger pointing to the tallest man in the room.
“He received virtually unlimited authority to wage war against the British from this body during the rebellion, but promptly returned these extensive grants when the crises ended. Indeed, it is not even proper to call him by the title of general any more since he resigned his commission and voluntarily dismissed the Continental Army under his commanded. Has that ever happened in the annals of history when a war hero holds such a dominant position to assume complete power?” Patrick Henry insisted.
That’s it. Stroke Washington’s sense of honor and duty, Valnor thought to himself. I know this man and his type. I’ve worked with Tomal and his massive ego for too many lifetimes not to recognize the tendencies.
“His lifetime appointment will give our young nation time to mature without enduring an internal power struggle every four years,” Patrick Henry added.
“That’s outrageous,” Aaron Burr exclaimed at once. “With all due respect and affection for Mr. Washington and his honor, we just broke away from a tyrannical monarchy. I will not submit to a new one. Have you lost all manner of sanity? My god man…”
The accusation was leveled at Patrick Henry, who stood in silence in the middle of the speaking floor. He moved his mouth a few times to form a response, but sound never seemed to follow. Several uncomfortable seconds ticked by in agonizing silence with all eyes on him.
“Have you lost your words as well as your mind,” Mr. Burr pressed, and in doing so drew a few nervous chuckles from his side of the room.
Valnor waited as long as he dared for Patrick to find his voice. Everything revolved around Washington accepting a lifetime appointment as President. That kind of authority carried with it an irresistible draw to power. Even if it did not, Valnor would have a lifetime to dissect every decision and piece of legislation Washington enacts as folly. Even a child could find a way to employ those tools to obliterate his reputation, and by extension the Freemason’s hold on power over this new government.
Eventually, the silence hung too heavy over the room and Valnor spoke up, “Odd that you are the one to object, Mr. Burr, considering you have the most to lose from such a measure.”
“How dare you? I am a patriot. I fought proudly in the war. Who questions this?” Mr. Burr demanded of the room.
Valnor hoped the interruption would allow Patrick to reset and resume his argument, but he remained mute. That left Valnor responsible for standing up to claim ownership of his statement. His only hope now was to strike at Burr’s credibility fast and hard to end any further debate.
“I do,” Valnor calle
d out on the way to his feet. “I also know that you came up through the ranks of General Benedict Arnold’s command; I can only imagine the lessons in greed and selfishness you learned under that traitor’s tutelage. Then there was the little incident of your men attempting a mutiny while stationed at the Gulf Approach to the Continental Army’s camp at Valley Forge. Those facts draw into question your authenticity and not to mention you’re leadership credentials.”
“You son of a bitch!” Burr exclaimed taking a few steps toward Valnor before a pair of men from his side of the room managed to restrain him.
While an enraged Mr. Burr attempted to wiggle free, Washington stood up from his seat and stepped to the center of the room with casual strides. Valnor assessed the man as he moved and knew what was coming next, he read it in the man’s eyes. He wanted the unlimited power offered him, and he would have it.
“While I realize the arduous nature of the task which is conferred on me as President and feel my inability to perform it,” Washington began with obviously false modesty, “I wish there may not be reason for regretting the choice. All I can promise is that which can be accomplished by an honest zeal, for this is a post so unlike anything I have ever done in my life.”
“I now realize that the hopes for this government, our nation, rest in my hands,” Washington went on with Valnor fighting back a broad smile. The man was taking the bait. That smile did not last beyond the next sentence uttered, however.
“We broke free from a king, there will not be another,” Washington went on with his hands clasped behind his back in a show of deference to the room. “I will not accept a lifetime appointment, nor will I allow my children or relatives to seek office in order to avoid the founding of a dynasty. I will do my part for my fellow man and country, and then I will leave this government of the people: that is to say, a government in which all power is derived from, and at stated periods reverts back to the people. That reversion will, and always shall happen at the end of a four-year term.”
Origins: Revolution (Crew Chronicles Book 2) Page 28