The Sword (43 page)

Little Jimmy was too small to walk like anything but a toddler, but still Chantel and Clay laughed at Flora’s remarks.

“I’ll go get him, me,” Chantel said. “He looks like he’s marching to Washington.”

She ran to catch him, and she swooped him up into her arms so fast he whooped with surprise. Then he turned to see who had latched onto him and said with delight, “Cante! Eat, eat, Cante!”

“As you can see, he takes after Jeb in other ways, too,” Flora said as Chantel rejoined them, the wiggling little Jimmy held tightly in her arms.

“I agree with Jimmy,” Clay said. “Let’s eat. Shall we, ladies?”

He led the two women, Chantel still holding Jimmy, over to a long table, two of them put together and covered, somewhat oddly in the rustic setting, with two fine white linen tablecloths. Four soldiers stood carving the pork and the beef from still-steaming big cuts.

“Mrs. Stuart, we’re so glad you came to be with us,” the private said, a young man who had joined Jeb Stuart as soon as the 1st Cavalry was formed. “May I have the pleasure of serving you some of this fine beef?”

“That would be nice, sir,” Flora said kindly. “Thank you so much.”

They moved down the table. At the other end were piled mounds of fresh-baked bread and many hundreds of roasted potatoes. All they had had in camp, in quantities enough for the crowd of men, was the chaplain’s kidnapped meat and flour for bread, and that was all they had planned on serving. But early the previous morning, Jacob had disappeared with the wagon, and when he returned, he had twenty cases of roasting potatoes. Chantel had teased him. “I guess you spent more of our gold on all that, hmm, partner?”

The three got their plates filled, and Clay carried his and Chantel’s back to the front row of benches, for Chantel still carried little Jimmy. They got seated, and Flora handed him an enormous beef rib, which he gnawed happily on, smearing his entire face with grease.

“Like a little hungry puppy, you,” Chantel said affectionately.

Major Ball came to them and bowed. “Good day, Mrs. Stuart, Miss Chantel. Hello, Lieutenant Tremayne. Mrs. Stuart, I’m so happy you and Jimmy could come be with us today and share in this feast that the gracious Lord has provided. Will you be staying for the service?”

“Of course I will, Major Ball. I’m looking forward to it,” Flora replied.

“What about you, Lieutenant?” he asked, turning to Clay. “Are you ready for a good dose of Gospel preaching?”

“Looks like I’ll have to be, won’t I?” Clay said grinning.

He liked the chaplain a great deal. He had been shocked at their first patrol, when Major Dabney Ball had ridden to the front right alongside of Jeb. When they had met the enemy, he fought just as fiercely as all of Stuart’s men did. After the battles, Clay had watched as he walked around among the wounded, even in the midst of action, as if he were in a park on a summer day.

He had asked Ball later, “Weren’t you afraid you’d get hit, Major?”

“No sir, I am not afraid. The Lord is going to take care of me.
Besides, when the Lord means for me to go, then I’ll go.”

Major Ball saw the men taking the stage, and he said, “Well, it looks like your husband’s minstrel show is about to start. General Stuart does dearly love his music.”

Clay had seen and heard the musicians many times. They began to play, and Stuart joined them. Often he sang along, and the whole crowd joined in. They sang, “Her Bright Smile Haunts Me Still,” “The Corn Top’s Ripe,” “Lorena,” and finally the one that they always sang, that Jeb Stuart loved the best: “Jine the Cavalry.” Even Stonewall Jackson and the grave Robert E. Lee sang.

As the music was going on, Chantel leaned over and said to Clay, “I’ve never seen an officer like General Stuart. He jokes and talks with the soldiers just like he was one of them.”

“That’s right,” Clay said heartily. “That’s the kind of man he is. He’s the only general I’ve ever seen that could make a common soldier feel absolutely at ease.”

“He’s gotten to be such a hero, so famous,” Chantel said. “It’s hard to believe that he would have any humility at all.”

“You know, I asked the general once,” Clay said very quietly so that Flora could not hear him, “why he put himself in the front. He’s so recognizable, any Yankee would give his boots to shoot him. I told him he was going to get himself killed if he didn’t use a little caution.”

“What did he say, Clay?”

“He said, ‘Oh, I reckon not. If I am, they’ll easily find someone to fill my place.’ ”

Suddenly a laugh went up, for the general had gotten up. Jeb Stuart, the terror of the Yankees, the master of the Black Horse, began dancing around, a great bearded warrior with his plumed hat and his golden spurs clanking at his heels. He began dancing around with one of the black men, and then the others joined in a mad frolic.

Flora sat shaking her head.

But Stonewall Jackson and even General Lee laughed.

After a while, the musicians left the platform, and Major Ball
stepped up. “All right. We’re going to have a service right here. We’ve had our party, and now we’re going to hear a word from God.”

Major Ball was a tall, thick-set man with a shock of black hair and a pair of strangely colored eyes, penetrating hazel eyes. His voice normally was quiet and even, but when he stood up to preach, it was like the sound of a trumpet. “I’m going to preach a very simple sermon to you today. My text is one that you all know—one that has often been called ‘the Gospel in a nutshell.’ I refer to John 3:16. You know the verse. It says, ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ ”

Chantel was fascinated as the chaplain began to speak. He had a compassion for lost men that showed clearly on his face. He spoke of how God loved the world that did not love him. “We’re all of the world, and we’re all sinners. It is one of the great mysteries of the Bible and of life to understand why a just and holy and perfect God could love miserable sinners such as we all are. But the Bible says He loved the world, and He gave His Son. We’re going to speak now of that gift that God gave for our salvation.”

As the sermon went on, Chantel had her eyes fixed on a young man who was across the way from her. It had grown dark, but there were lanterns stationed so that she could see his face clearly. She saw that he was very young and that he was somehow afraid. She could not take her eyes off of him, and she whispered to Clay, “Do you see that young man over there? The private with the yellow hair?”

Clay looked over and nodded. “I can’t recall his name just now. He’s in the Stonewall Brigade.”

“He’s so young,” Chantel said. “And he looks so afraid.”

Clay studied the man and nodded. “I guess he is. Most of us are, I guess. I envy men like General Jackson and the major who don’t have to worry about what’ll happen if they get killed.”

Major Ball was saying, “There you have it, dear friends! That’s who God is, a compassionate loving Father, but He still gave His only Son, His beloved Son, Jesus, and He condemned His own Son to death, so that He paid for our sins. How can we turn away from our Father God? How can we ever say to Him, ‘No, I don’t need Your love’? We can’t. Once we realize, deep in our hearts, what He has done for us, the great and eternal and kind love that He has for us, we cannot help but ask Him humbly to take us in and to be our most beloved Father.”

The silence was profound, and Chantel saw that some men wept openly. She glanced at Clay and was shocked to see his dark eyes glint with unshed tears.

The chaplain finished, now speaking quietly in the reverent silence, “I know you men. You’re like all men. You’ve dabbled in the defilements of the world, you’ve shamed yourselves, perhaps you’ve shamed your families. Maybe you’ve given up and you think, ‘God can’t care for me. I’m not worth caring for.’ But this Scripture says that He does. If you’ll just come to Jesus tonight, you’ll find out that He will open His arms and welcome you with a love that is everlasting.”

The chaplain began to urge the men to come forward who wanted to be prayed for, and many came. It was just a few at first, but then more and more men, hats in hand, went to the chaplain and stood silently, heads bowed, as he prayed with them.

Chantel turned to Clay and saw that his face was working; he was struggling. Even as she watched, he bowed his head and closed his eyes.

Chantel knew that God was dealing with him. She slid her hand into his, and he grasped it as hard as if it were his only tenuous hold on life. Chantel bowed her head and prayed.

Finally she sensed Clay relax, and his painful grip on her hand loosened, though he still held it. She looked up at him. His face was rather pale, but he looked back at her and smiled.

She asked, “Did you ask the good God to save you, Clay?”

“I did,” Clay answered steadily. “And just like you and your
grandfather have told me, I feel different now. I know that He is in my heart. For the first time since this war started, I know I’m safe.”

“Even unto death,” she said quietly, “we know we live. Forever and ever.”

Clay and his corporal, a sturdy man of about forty-five named Gabriel Tyron, were riding side by side slightly behind General Stuart. Clay was aware of the jingling of the horses’ harness, some of the men laughing and talking, the ever-present sounds of the night in the South. A thousand crickets called, in the distance bullfrogs sang out their throaty single notes, the nightingale trilled her lonely sonnet. This was all a familiar scene to him, and now that he had become a Christian, he was not at the mercy of his fear. He felt alive and alert and strong.

“I think this battle is going to be bad, Lieutenant,” Corporal Tyron said.

“Why do you say that, Corporal?” Clay asked curiously. The man was a career soldier, and he, like Clay, had already been through terrible battles. It was unlike him to say such a thing.

Tyron shrugged. “I got me a bad feeling.”

“That’s just superstition, Tyron,” Clay said firmly. “We’re heading for a fight, for sure. But no matter what happens, it can’t be much worse than what we’ve already seen.”

“No, this is different. My mother, she had what they call second sight.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that she saw things that couldn’t be.”

“What kind of things, Corporal?”

Tyron frowned. “My mother saw her brother after he was killed.”

“What do you mean? At his funeral?”

“No, sir,” he said, shaking his head. “Her brother, my uncle, was killed in a mining accident out west. One day, Mama, she looked up and saw my uncle standing in the door. She was surprised, and
she asked him when he had come back from the West. He just smiled and said nothing, and then in a minute he was gone.”

“I don’t understand,” Clay said with some impatience.

“My uncle, he had been killed the day before. It was a full week before Mama got the letter. But she saw him that day.”

“I don’t believe that’s true,” Clay said in a more kindly manner. “Not that I doubt your mother, but she must have been mistaken.”

“You think what you like, Lieutenant, sir. But I think that God speaks to us in different ways, and I think He spoke to my mother in that kind of way.”

The cavalry rode on, and late that night they made camp. They had been there for a couple of hours, and Clay was seeing to the well-being of his men, going around to ensure they had something to eat, talking to them, encouraging them.

He was at the edge of their camp, and he looked into a clearing a little ways away from them where there was a small fire. With a shock, he realized that General Lee was there. He was sitting on a cracker box, and across from him, not five feet away, was General Stonewall Jackson. General Stuart was with them, and General Lee was speaking to him in a low voice.

Stuart nodded then turned and walked fast, back toward his tent. As he passed Clay, he said, “Saddle up again, Lieutenant. We’ve got to ride.”

They rode west, and Clay, as always, stayed close behind General Stuart. Sometimes, in the night, they heard talking and laughing just on their left, and Clay realized they were riding very close to Union pickets.