Day Nine

by Clayton Spann

Thursday, June 25

  Armistead Long fidgeted in his saddle. The woman was one of the ugliest females he had ever seen. She reminded him of a gargoyle. She should take that umbrella and use it to permanently cover her face.

  The gargoyle led a delegation of four other women. They had approached General Lee as he made his way up the riverbank from the Potomac. Long would have tipped his hat and kept riding, but the General—too courtly for his own good—had stopped.

  Riding beside Lee, Generals Longstreet and Pickett also displayed exasperation. They had miles to go. If their commander halted to placate every group of well-wishers, they would never get out of Maryland. Ladies’ man Pickett was probably thinking they should stop only for belles.

  One of the middle-aged women carried an evergreen wreath bearing red ribbons. The other women held large bouquets of flowers.

  The faces of the gaggle shone with admiration. That it was pouring rain, with water coursing off umbrellas to soak the lower half of their dresses, did not trouble the women at all.

  The rain certainly bothered Long. He was clammy under his poncho. Some of the water cascading off his slouch hat managed to slip in between the poncho and his neck.

  “General Lee, ” said the yellow toothed gargoyle, “allow me to present these ladies who desire to give you this reception. ”

  The General smiled politely. He thanked the women, then generously introduced Generals Longstreet and Pickett. Both men doffed their hats and forced a smile.

  The women then presented the generals with the flowers. As the men awkwardly accepted the big bouquets, the women praised the Southern cause and invoked God’s blessing on the army. This time the vile enemy would be crushed.

  The woman with the wreath stepped forward. “General Lee, may I put this around the neck of Traveller? For good fortune?”

  The request nonplused Lee. Traveller, the renown mount of the renown commander, decorated as if pulling a Christmas sleigh? Longstreet and Pickett stifled mirth.

  Lee tried to escape. He thanked the gaggle for their courtesy and kindness, but duty called. He must press on.

  The gargoyle would not hear of it. She continued to beam admiration, but she stood firmly in the path of Traveller. The plumpish woman with the wreath joined her.

  By now rainfall had wilted the bouquets. Fortunately Captain Dawson came to the rescue, and relieved the generals of the flowers. He offered to take the wreath too. Stern eyes accompanied his offer.

  The gargoyle persisted. The women had gone to great trouble to construct this emblem of their appreciation. It should be, it must be prominently displayed.

  Finally the commander of the army called to one of the couriers. The wreath would go on the courier’s horse, which would proceed the column. Would that be acceptable, ladies? Long was glad to hear Lee ask in a take it or leave it voice.

  As they left the gaggle behind, Long reflected on the patience of Robert E. Lee. His forbearance truly was that of Job. A slower man to irritation, or anger, Long had never seen. Even when angry Lee rarely flared.

  In so many ways this noble man remained an example to them all. Always just, always considerate, always helpful, always modest, always selfless. Lee was the very model of a Christian gentleman.

  With the rest of the staffs, Long trailed just behind the three generals. Of the three Lee sat the straightest in the saddle. Long gave thanks that Marse Robert had regained his usual fine posture, posture that had slackened during April and May.

  Lee appeared to have thrown off his aliments. Long swore five years had dropped from his age. His movements were quicker, his memory sharper, his spirits higher. This was the energetic man he had known in the early months of the war.

  Day by day since late May the General had grown stronger. Since that morning when visited by Sandie Pendleton. Lee had not revealed what he and Pendleton so long discussed in the tent, nor the contents of Anna Jackson’s letter, but both had proved a tonic.

  Thank God. The loss of Stonewall Jackson had crushed Lee, though he strove mightily to demonstrate otherwise. The illness of March and April had previously weakened him. In the fortnight after the battle of Chancellorsville, Long worried that Lee might be only half his former self during the summer campaign.

  Now Lee no longer took quinine. That alone had improved him enormously. The General had also changed his eating habits, though Long was less certain of that contribution.

  Lee now would eat only chicken and fish for meat. He also demanded greens and nuts—especially walnuts—as accompaniment. He had even given up his beloved cornbread soaked with molasses. Additionally, the General now drank only tea and wine. Plain water he avoided like poison.

  Of all the changes, wine was the biggest surprise to Long. The exemplary man did not smoke, drink, or swear. But the very night of Pendleton’s visit the General asked for a cup of red wine. Thereafter he drank no more, no less, each evening.

  Shortly the General stopped to greet another group of admirers. Fortunately some pretty women were among them. Long saw Pickett perk up.

  As Lee paused, his headquarters wagons passed. Long looked twice at the rear of one wagon. Perched on the tail and shielded from the rain, stood the hen Betsy. With nonchalance she gazed out on the world.

  Don’t get too comfortable, thought Long. Your protector now favors roast chicken. At some point during this campaign, Betsy, you may be the only clucker around. I doubt you will be returning to Virginia.