The Titans by John Jakes

least, wasn't smiling or capering like some of the imbeciles in the streets: "comGeneral Scott will be here at eleven for the meeting. Please send messengers to inform the cabinet members." The visitor nodded and brushed past Jephtha, who stood waiting in the doorway, unnoticed by Nicolay. Jephtha Kent was a tall, stem-looking man of forty- one. His gray-blue eyes contrasted sharply with the dark, straight hair he tended to forget about combing. His tcheap suit of black broadcloth was equally unkempt. His shirt had a distinctly gray cast Jephtha's nose was prominent; blade-like. Like his dark hair, it was a trait he'd gotten from his Indian mother, a Shoshoni squaw named Grass Singing. His father had married her during his days as a mountain man in the far western part of the continent. Jephtha's pale, intense eyes were his only physical inheritance from his Virginia forebears. His grandmother on his father's side had come from the Tidewater country. Jephtha often drew stares; at first glance, he looked more Indian than white. Nicolay was busy sorting papers on his desk. Jephtha cleared his throat. "Good morning, John." "Oh-to " Starting, Nicolay glanced up. "Jephtha. Good morning. One minute-I'm trying to find a note the President gave me right after breakfast." The secretary located it, then uttered a long sigh. "I'm sorry. I completely forgot you were on the calendar." 628An Oath Registered in Heaven" "I'm not surprised. It's been a hectic weekend, I imagine." "It's been hell." "Any further word from Sumter?" "Nothing beyond what we heard last night." "Anderson and all his men got aboard the relief vessels?" "That's right." "No more casualties reported?" "Only the one-Anderson's man who got killed when a cannon blew up. General Beauregard was damned civil about the whole business. Allowed Anderson to salute his flag before he and his troops left the fort." "You'll find that typical of Southern people, I think," Jephtha said. "I hope it doesn't mislead anyone into believing Southerners won't fight. They're hard fighters." "I realize. We've a lot of "em in the army, you know. West Point men. Senior officers. I don't doubt a good many will hand in their resignations." Jephtha nodded. "Emulating Beauregard's example." The commander at Charleston had withdrawn from the superintendency at West Point to return to his native South. "What about news from Richmond?" "None. But I expect we'll hear by midweek." "And they'll follow the first seven states out of the Union." "That's what the President anticipates," Nicolay agreed with a glum expression. "How many more does he expect to go?" "North Carolina, Tennessee, and Arkansas look almost certain. Kentucky, Maryland, and Missouri could fall either way." "I suppose all this turmoil means Mr. Lincoln won't see me this morning." "Oh, I think he'll see you. He knows the New York Union stumped hard for him while Seward's men were still whining about their licking at the Wigwam." The Titans63 Nicolay slipped into the hall. "Come along and let's find out. I wouldn't expect more than five or ten minutes, though. Or any specific information. Matters are just too uncertain." Jephtha followed the secretary to the other end of the building. There, a carpeted corridor led from the Lincoln family's living quarters in the southwest corner to the President's office on the southeast. A crowd of jobseekers, contractors and ordinary citizens wanting favors packed the chairs and benches along the corridor. Such crowds always jammed the mansion's upper halls on business days, waiting to pluck the President's arm and dog his steps whenever he appeared. Cigar fumes and the smell of sweat fouled the air. Jephtha heard some of the petitioners discussing Major Anderson's safe removal from the Charleston fort. He listened to a couple of obscene comments about the character of Jefferson Davis, the former military officer, legislator, and Secretary of War who was now president of the seven-state Confederacy down