-= 159 =-
Massachusetts
June 1784
"And how is John?" Captain, now Congressman Waymouth asked. He was thinner than when Tom saw him last, older with grey hair slowly retreating across his broad forehead. His eyes, however, were bright as he drank from a tumbler of brandy. "I've not seen him since you took him home."
"John's well," Heyward replied. "To be honest, I've not heard from him in sometime." Had not thought of him either, not with Mister Black after him. "Ah...last I saw he was in Charleston. He's the commander of the Carolina Guard."
Waymouth nodded. "That's glory, I'm sure. And a fine looking woman he has. I can see why he went mad for her. If I was twenty years younger I'd have done much the same!" He laughed, then sensing a slight chill from his guest, "It's good to hear he's well. When this all blows over you must tell him to come to Boston, we'll relive the New York campaign!"
"I'll tell him," Tom smiled slightly. They'd just spent half an hour reliving Preston's first sojourn in the army.
"But you didn't come to talk to me about him," Waymouth added after a moment. The brilliant memories of days in the sun left his eyes and his smile faded. "Captain Jones discussed your predicament with me. He thought I might be willing to help with Congress."
"I hope so. The situation is rather grave." Heyward leaned forward. Every time he repeated his story, he realized just how incredulous it sounded - and that with leaving out the part about what Black really was. "Do you think?" he nodded at the tumbler.
"Eh? Oh, I beg your pardon, General. I was so caught up with hearing about John I wasn't attending. Pray help yourself." He indicated the shelf of bottles along one wall. Tom walked there slowly, trying to still his trembling hands. He
needed this man. What could he say that would make sense?
Waymouth watched him intently. He knew about pre-battle nerves.
"There is a problem in Charleston," Tom began without turning.
"So I am given to understand. General, may I save us some time?"
"By all means." Heyward turned, still filling his glass.
"As I said, Captain Jones briefed me on your story. You don't need to repeat it. What interests me is how you see this affecting Congress. Your claims against this Rutledge fellow - and I agree he seems a greasy character - don't really extend beyond South Carolina. It may be so that by restricting the slaves there he's hurt your economy...but even if I grant you intent, then that only hurts Charleston."
"It doesn't worry you that he's setting up absolute rule?"
"It doesn't please me," Waymouth allowed, "but come: Your signature is on the Articles of Confederation. You know as well as I that the individual states may do as they please. There's nothing in there about how the state governments must be set, just how we work together."
"He may not do as he pleases if it would harm the United States as a whole, however," Tom replied. "I've spoken with Captain Jones also, and he's told me of the changed character of Congress: A closed body, secretive, hostile to those wtih dissident voices. This sounds a lot like steps Rutledge took to secure South Carolina."
"And you believe he somehow changed our character from Charleston?"
"Indirectly, yes. Consider: We've known for years South and North Carolina have acted as one. I can also assure you he's tried repeatedly to pull Virginia into their circle. When he was in Congress I know he spent quite a bit of time with President Jefferson. He's had the chance to influence the man."
"Which does not prove harm to the country," Waymouth replied.
"Doesn't it?" Tom pressed. "We fought for certain inalienable freedoms. I was there when that same President Jefferson penned the Declaration of Independence following the '73 war, and there he wrote about liberty. Now he acts like...like the very men we broke away from. If that doesn't prove a changed character, then what does?"
"General," Waymouth sighed. "I know it's been several years for you, but let me assure you government does change a man, and it doesn't take ill intent?"
"President Hancock didn't have anti-sedition laws," Tom returned. "Hewes? Thomson? Anyway, there's more. Carolina is once more fighting the Cherokee if you'll remember."
"A matter passed before Congress," Waymouth noted. "Legally and fairly."
"A South Carolina motion."
"Perhaps. However, a motion South Carolina had the right to make."
"A war is one thing, a slaughter another," Tom replied. "It's brought dishonor upon not just South Carolina, but the entire country ... including Massachusetts."
Waymouth narrowed his eyes at the mild rebuke. "There are enough people who would say 'to hell with the Indians', especially after their uprisings the last few years."
"And to hell with the British as well? We're still raiding them you know. That also affects the entire country. If they finally retaliate, do you really think they'll stop in Charleston or will they go for all our ports?" He stared at the congressman for a moment, then abruptly smiled as a cohesive argument formed in his mind. "Captain, do you remember why discipline is so important in the army?"
"Of course: So you don't do something stupid and get yourself killed!"
"You...or your men. We're taught that what we do affects not just us, but everyone around us and our entire command. Now, you can sit there and tell me much of this is a South Carolina problem and I can't deny it, but what hurts Charleston today will hurt Boston tomorrow. Everything we do affects everyone else one way or the other. That is why we have to deal with Mister..Rutledge, because the longer we let him twist South Carolina, the more likely the rest of the country will either follow him with their own absolutists, or turn the other way into radicalism and war."
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South Carolina
He was guilty of the sin of pride. He could see that now.
Mister Black slowly paced along a tiny garden attached to his house, a gift from the Daughters of Carolina for their fallen hero. He moved slowly, partly because his body trembled with every step, and partly because he was relearning how to control his powers. A flower of some sort wilted at the corrupting influence of his approach. He inhaled sharply and sought the inner serenity God had taught them so many years ago. The flower, still obviously ill, revived slightly and he nodded. Good, the apparent plant plague at his house was getting hard to explain.
Pride. God warned his human toys of this. Except, of course, the warning hadn't really been for them but for his true children. Perhaps He hoped the humans would listen, but they couldn't even agree what or who God was. Testaments to their failures in this regard littered their history. How many thousands of slaves suffered and perished in the Egyptian sun just so their pharoahs would have a tomb that would outlive their empire? How many empires had fallen because just one of those pathetic creatures, that happened to be in command, couldn't say "Enough?" No, lessons were lost on them. God intended His messages for the angels, and he for one was prepared to listen.
Black sat on a stone bench to catch his breath. It wasn't his...Rutledge's...body failing after all, but the very angelic spark that made Black what he was. He'd underestimated this Heyward person, and for that sin he'd almost lost. Almost, but not quite.
"I should have known," he told the ailing flower. "I should have known not just anyone could answer the Summons." Black still didn't know who'd sent Heyward back in time - that angel would pay dearly for his interference - but it'd been a good stroke. When Black assaulted the man's mind, determined to possess and destroy him, he'd held on just long enough to tap into the angelic fury being used against him. The fool almost certainly didn't realize it, but
he had caused Rutledge's house to explode in a blind, instinctive bid for survival. With Black's attempt at possession so brutally severed, part of his angelic essence was trapped.
Black nodded to himself. The explanation made sense. It also made them almost equal, though again the human probably didn't realize it. He'd have to rectify the situation and quickly. Fortunately, now that he knew
what was wrong with him, he knew precisely what to do about it.
"Jasen!" he called. He sensed, more than heard the whimper and sob as his 'companion' practiced his predations on a helpless slave. Black sighed, that was getting harder to explain too. "Jasen! Finish what you're doing and come here. We have plans to make!"
He would not underestimate these humans again.