“Can we round up more horses?”
“The city is full of them, dray horses for the most part.”
“Good. I want the entire troop to take part in this. Round up all the horses you need and harness them to some Gatling guns. We’ll move them out when the guns are ready. I’ll take command. Make sure the city stays pacified.”
“What about the river, General?”
“That was my next thought. There are plenty of small boats in the Thames that we can commandeer. Put some of our sailors in each one to make sure the crews follow orders. Get a company of troops upriver that way. General Groves will be in command. If he gets there first I want his men to get around the castle but not attack it until he receives the command from me. Whoever is in the castle now — I want them still there when we occupy it.”
“Understood.”
The cavalry went west at an easy trot, General Sherman and his staff to the fore. Almost as soon as they had passed through Chelsea, where a bitter battle had been fought to take the barracks, all signs of war fell behind them. Distant guns still rumbled sporadically, but they could have been mistaken for thunder. The streets were strangely empty for the time of day, though the soldiers were aware of watching eyes from the passing windows. The only untoward incident occurred when they were passing through Putney.
There was the crack of a gun and a bullet passed close to General Sherman.
“Up there!” one of the soldiers shouted, pointing to a puff of smoke from the window of a residence. One after another the cavalrymen fired, their bullets crashing the glass from the window and sending chunks of frame flying.
“Leave it,” Sherman ordered. They galloped on.
It was late afternoon before they passed through Windsor Great Park and saw the crenellated towers of the castle ahead. As they came through the woods, they saw that there were American riflemen who had taken up positions behind many of the trees facing an open green field. A sloping lawn led up to the castle beyond. A major of the Kentucky Rifles stepped forward and saluted Sherman as he slid down from his horse.
“Men all in position, right around the castle, sir.”
“Any resistance?”
“They tried some potshots from the windows, but stopped when we returned their fire. We stayed away, like you ordered. Gates closed tight, but we know there are a passel of people inside.”
“Is the Queen among them?”
“Don’t rightly know. But we rousted out some of the citizens from the town. All say the same thing, and I think they are too frightened to lie. Lots of carriages came today — and the Queen’s was one of them. Nobody come out since.”
“Good work, Major. I’ll take over from here.”
Sherman returned the man’s salute, then turned to look up at the grim granite walls of the castle. Should he wait until they could bring some cannon up to batter an opening in them? There were a number of doors and windows; a sudden attack mig
ht take the castle by storm. But many good men would be lost if the defenders put up a stiff defense. A moment later the decision was taken out of his hands.
“The big front gate is opening, General,” a soldier called out.
“Hold your fire,” Sherman ordered.
The gate swung wide, and from inside the castle there sounded the roll of a drum. The army drummer emerged, accompanied by an officer carrying a white flag.
“Bring them to me,” Sherman ordered, greatly relieved. A squad trotted toward the two soldiers and accompanied them forward, automatically falling in step with the drumbeat. The officer, a colonel, stopped in front of Sherman and saluted, which Sherman returned.
“I wish to speak to your commanding officer,” the British colonel said.
“I am General Sherman, commanding the American army.”
The officer took a folded sheet of paper from his belt. “This message is from His Grace the Duke of Cambridge. He writes, ‘To the commander of the American forces. There are women and children here, and I fear for their safety if this conflict continues. I therefore request you to send an emissary to discuss terms of surrender.’ ”
Sherman felt an intense wave of relief — but did not reveal it in his expression. “I shall go myself. Sergeant, pick a small squad to accompany me.”
It was a large and elegantly furnished room, awash with light from the ceiling-high windows. A tiny woman sat in a large chair, dressed in black, quite chubby, with a puffy face and perpetually open mouth and exophthalmic eyes. She wore a fur miniver over her shoulders and a white widow’s cap with a long veil, as well as a diamond-and-sapphire coronet. The group of ladies-in-waiting around her looked uneasy and frightened. Lord John Russell, diminutive and ancient, was at her side. Along with the uniformed Duke of Cambridge, appearing his usual assertive self.
General Sherman and his party stopped before the waiting group; no one spoke. After a moment Sherman turned away from the Queen and addressed the Duke of Cambridge.
“We have met before,” Sherman said.