-= 138 =-
April 1784
South Carolina
"Thomas! Come in!" 'Rutledge' stood from behind his oak desk and smiled cordially. "You are looking quite fine, sir. Please have a seat." He waved to a chair in front of his desk, ornate and stiff backed. He turned his attention to the soldier who served as his personal guard, a thin youth wearing the red sash of the Carolina Guard. "Bring Thomas a drink if he wants, then leave us. We'll be safe I'm sure."
The youth wasn't so sure, having seen the murderous look in Heyward's eyes when he presented himself in the pouring rain, but merely bowed. "Sir?"
"I'm not thirsty," Tom snapped. Rutledge looked the same as always: a tall, thin man in his thirties. Today he wore his lawyer's wig, slightly curled and powdered white, and dressed in a white waistcoat over crimson shirt and leggings with blue trimming. He could almost be mistaken for a British soldier. Tom sat in the offered chair and immediately realized they weren't alone. He snapped his gaze to Rutledge's other guest, seated in a high back chair next to him.
"I'm sure you remember Captain Pierce?" Black smiled.
"We missed you at the battle," Heyward glared at the former commander of his personal guard, a thin, blond haired man in his twenties. Pierce had the integrity to look embarassed. "How did you find home?"
"Quite well, except my family's larder was bare as I feared when we spoke. I appealed to Mister Rutledge's mercy for myself and my family and he was able to help."
"Yes, Mister Rutledge is quite the man."
"Captain Pierce was telling me of your time together," Black interrupted, still smiling. "He says you were quite thorough in your prosecution of the campaign. Not an Indian within miles of the army. You're to be complimented."
"It was my men who were
thorough," Tom replied shortly.
"Yes, but under your orders. Or at least with your understanding." Black's grin broadened.
"I do not need you to remind me of my part in this!"
"You sound upset, Thomas. Are you sure you don't want that drink?"
"No. I'm here to discuss your role in this campaign!" Tom turned once more to Pierce. "You can go."
Black raised his hand sharply. "This is still my office, sir," he smiled. "Still, perhaps the good general is right, Kyle. Thank you for your report. It was most thorough."
Once they were alone, Tom returned his gaze to his adversary. "Report?"
"Yes, sir." Black folded his hands and leaned close. "I encourage any citizen to come to me with their concerns and interests. That is the very definition of democracy is it not?"
"As I said, you're quite the man."
"Now Thomas," Black purred. "You sound positively churlish. What has you in such distemper?"
"I don't know what you're playing at, but..." Heyward shook his head. "I know about Branchville!"
"Ah yes, quite a shame, th..."
"I'm not done! I know you created a food shortage by stopping the slaves from working last year. I know you raised a massive draft to keep the men from taking the shortfall or noticing what you're doing. I know you intentionally created a crisis so you would be awarded emergency powers. You've used those to crush any who speak against you. You've encouraged excesses and cruelty in my men."
"That is quite a theory, Thomas. Another man might consider you paranoid."
"I don't know what you're about, but I'm going to end it!"
"That sounds like a threat, Thomas."
"It is!"
Black arched his brows. "What is wrong, Thomas? Your men played too rough with the Indians and you're offended?"
"Don't condescend to me!"
"I have always found, Thomas, that the quality of a soldier can best be measured by the quality of his commander. If you don't like what happened there, then firstly I say you are a fool for not realizing that cruelty is a part of war - especially with inferior breeds. Secondly, I would look in the mirror. Your men acted as they did because you allowed them. Alan was quite clear about your contempt for the Carolina fighting man, sir. Look in the mirror. Look in the mirror."
"I know my part! Do you know yours? Tell me about Branchville!"
"A necessity. They must be controlled."
"Even if it means starving them?"
"Their fate does not interest me. All that is important is the security of the state."
"Ah yes, emaciated and sick men are a horrible threat to Carolina!"
"Why do you continually stand up for these people, Thomas? It is clear that there are superior bloodlines and inferior ones. Allowing the inferior to continue merely dilutes everyone else." Black leaned back and shook his head. "You puzzle me. Unless, perhaps, your blood is already soured."
"My
blood is fine!"
"Is it? You continue along these lines and people may begin to wonder, Thomas. Where is your army? You abandoned them, didn't you? They disgusted you. Don't you love Carolina?"
The sudden change in topic caught Tom off guard. "Of course I love Carolina!"
"Then why did you leave? Couldn't stand watching your Indian friends get slaughtered any more? Or didn't they let you have the woman you wanted?"
heyward lunged across the desk and grabbed his neckcloth. Black grabbed his wrist and met his gaze. "Abandoning your post is treason," he said softly.
"Let he who is without sin," Tom growled.
Black laughed. "Oh Thomas, Sin is the least of your problems. Desertion. Failure to report. I know you tried to redirect supplies to Branchville earlier this morning. And now assault? However I realize you are in distemper. Stress has brought down greater men, and perhaps you are merely ill. Are you ill, Thomas?"
"I am fine....Ed! And when I tell the world what you have done..."
"You will be condemned as a paranoid or delusional, and spend the rest of your life in an asylum. Would you like to call the meeting, or shall I?"
Tom stood straight, eyes blazing.
"I am your friend, Thomas, so I will make you the same offer our God does: Beg me for forgiveness and we will pretend today never happened."
"Go to the devil!"
"Oh, about that." Black grinned. "Would you like to know what my plan is, Thomas? What I'm really 'at' as you so wittily put it? Come with me into the study. I have everything arranged." He stood and studied his guest. "It's really quite simple."
Curiousity got the better of Heyward, even as a quiet alarm went off in the back of his head. He looked around alertly: Still alone.
"Good." Black opened a side door. "Close the door after us, will you? There's a bit of a draft." Black took a lamp.
Rutledge's study was cozy, with a few chairs near an unlit fireplace and bookshelves on the wall. A globe sat on a brass base. Someone had shoved a dagger into North America like it was a scabbard. Black walked past this and pointed up to a large piece of black, red and white cloth. "The new Carolina flag. What do you say, sir?"
Tom followed his finger and stared. His eyes widened and he turned pale, his jaw slackening. He'd only seen that flag once before in his life. Only once. Many years ago...or many years from now. He backed up slowly, still staring. Bumped into the door. Shook.
"So it is you, Thomas," Black said without looking away from the flag. "Henry did try to tell me, but I didn't believe him."
"You're a Nazi," Thomas whispered.
Black shook with silent laughter, still staring at his banner. "You still don't understand, do you Thomas? I didn't join the Nazis..."
He whirled, eyes as crimson as his shirt.
"THEY....JOINED.....ME!"
Flag of the Carolina Federation (1784)