Victory at Yorktown: A Novel by William R. Forstchen, Newt Gingrich Read Free Book Online

aged greatly since then. With wig off, his hair had gone nearly entirely to gray, his eyes were deep sunk, features slightly gaunt, a sense of weariness about him as if he had endured a sleepless night, yet nevertheless gaze fixed unflinchingly.
    “Young Major Wellsley tells me that we have met before,” the general finally said, breaking the silence.
    “Yes, sir. The day after the first battle at Trenton. You offered me parole and exchange because of…”
    His voice trailed off for a moment and the general finished the sentence “… because your brother died a noble Patriot in service to his country.”
    Allen wondered if there was the slightest hint of rebuke in Washington’s tone, questioning how he could still serve the Crown after the sacrifice of his own brother to the Rebel cause.
    “I had already informed your courier yesterday that I would refuse any appeal from your General Clinton to spare the life of Major Andre unless it was to exchange him for,” he hesitated as if there was a bad taste in just saying the name, “Benedict Arnold.”
    Allen watched his features closely. Yes, the general loathed Arnold now, but only weeks before, Arnold was rumored to be among this man’s closest friends and confidantes, and that if Washington should ever fall in battle it was his wish that either General Greene or Arnold assume full command of the forces in the field.
    “As the party making the request, sir, may I have your permission to give to you a letter from my commanding officer?”
    Washington nodded, saying nothing.
    Still rigid at attention, Allen took the final three steps to Washington’s desk, reached into his uniform breast pocket, and drew out the heavy envelope, sealed with wax and bound with waxed cord. Washington, using what looked like a paring knife, cut the cords, broke the seal, and opened the letter.
    His eyes darted down the page, taking not more than half a minute. With a sigh he put the letter down, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.
    “As I already had sent to your general, the only consideration I will offer will be the exchange of Arnold for your Major Andre. That was refused, which was why I initially declined to even meet with you, Major van Dorn. If anything, this meeting now is a courtesy more to you than to your commander who…”
    He hesitated but then continued.
    “… refuses to hand over an outright traitor, for a man, who by all accounts, even from those who sat at his trial, is an honorable officer, a gallant man of noble spirit.”
    “Sir, he is,” Allen blurted out. “He has been my closest friend in the army for three years, and it gladdens me to hear that even those who sit in judgment of him see that nobility of character.”
    He regretted this breech of protocol even as he spoke, but his emotions had taken hold.
    He caught a glimpse of his old friend Peter looking at him, standing slightly behind Washington, and subtly shaking his head.
    “Yet, nevertheless, no matter how honorable his character, he was caught behind our lines, in civilian garb, and attempted to bribe his way past our pickets when stopped.”
    Allen knew it was not his place to present the argument that Andre had, indeed, gone to meet Arnold, right in the middle of his own encampment, by necessity forced to disguise himself in civilian clothing. It was an action at which he had expressed doubt, but was ordered to do so by Clinton in order to consummate Arnold’s betrayal. He had, indeed, tried to bluff his way past the pickets manned by troops most likely similar to the ones who had surprised Allen on the ride in. Andre had at first mistaken them for a Loyalist unit, then, realizing his mistake, had fallen back on the subterfuge that he was just a civilian visiting a friend behind the lines, and offered a bribe to be allowed to pass. One of the guards, searching him, had found the secret plans to coordinate the betrayal and offensive strike by Clinton to take West Point and to capture