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La Belle Christiane

Copyright 2011 by Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Six Scene 3

The troops and families were still camping separately, so Christiane decided to go to Jakob’s squad to ask about their own plans. Tomorrow, December 31, 1776, Jakob’s enlistment ended. In fact the majority of the soldiers would be free the next day. Plans were being shared all around in family camp as to who was going where and how. She had just reached Jakob’s squad when the striking blue-and-white uniforms of the officers appeared among the drab and muddy homespun and buckskin.

Looking up, Christiane recognized the general and at his elbow, Laurens. Quickly she looked down, hoping that she would not be noticed. Under everyday circumstances, her unkempt appearance was trying, but being seen by these two gentlemen struck her with acute embarrassment. She pulled her faithful quilt closer around her shoulders.

“Men!” Colonel Fish shouted. “The general would like to speak with you.”

As Washington stepped forward, a quiet respect showed in the mens’ stances and silence. “Men, I am glad of the opportunity to speak to you today on a matter of great importance. It has been a long, cold month.” Polite murmurs of agreement were heard. “I am not unmindful of the hardships that you have endured in the cause of the Revolution. Especially those of you with families here.” At this Christiane looked up, she found the general gazing directly at her. Mortified, she blushed, but lifted her chin gracefully. “I am certain all of you are familiar with Thomas Paine’s treatise, “Common Sense.” I would like to read you a few lines from his latest treatise, The Crisis because they so adequately reflect my own feelings.

“‘These are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.'” Washington looked up. “That is what I am here to ask you. Will you stand with me? Many of you have enlistments that end tomorrow. I know well how it is to want to go home. Mt. Vernon is calling to me, but the voice of liberty constrains me. I cannot stand alone or move against the enemy without you. The Revolution–America–needs you.

“You have shown what you are capable of here at Trenton, but the war is not won. If you leave now before we can safely go into winter quarters, all may be lost. Will you re-enlist? If not for six months, at least, for six weeks? I cannot stress enough how much you are needed, every one of you. I am able to offer an extra ten dollar bounty to any man who will stay with us, at least, six more weeks. But more importantly, America will owe you her heartfelt gratitude. What do you say? Will any of you come forward?”

There was an awkward silence. Christiane knew these soldiers had come to respect deeply this man, their commander, but what he asked would cost them a great deal. Christiane felt the cross-current of emotions herself. Somehow she had not caught the significance of the effect of all the six-month enlistments ending while winter quarters still had not been entered.

And she was truly touched by his personal appeal. It was not something any European officer would have been gracious or humble enough to do. And his case was sound. How could a general, even a great one, fight a war alone? But spending January, the heart of winter, in tents and barns without proper clothing or provisions? Christiane was caught between her desire to finish what they had started and her private needs, her need to see her son again.

Jakob ended her quandary. “We stay. I sign up for six more weeks,” he stated loudly and firmly.

“Thank you, soldier. Please come up. I would like to shake your hand,” the general answered, sounding pleased. Jakob went forward and it was an indication of the regard he was held that many men followed him. Tom and Michael were among them.

Christiane was still caught between her conflicting emotions. She wanted to scream, “Stop!” but she could not. A part of her was proud of her husband’s resoluteness and courage. But six more weeks, how could she bear it?

“Mrs. Kruger?” a voice inquired beside her. She looked up into Lt. Colonel Laurens’ face.

“Lt. Colonel,” she greeted him. She was sincerely happy to see him, but unhappy to have him see her. Unconsciously she extended her hand, which he bowed over politely. Silently she wanted to slap herself. Once so long ago she had learned the manners of an aristocrat and now whenever she was confronted by a person of quality, she automatically reverted to them. Would she never learn?

“It is a pleasure to see you again, ma’am,” he replied.

“The pleasure is mine,” she returned patly. Trying to divert the conversation to him, she continued, “I’m sure you have been very busy of late.”

“Indeed, ma’am. The general has done quite a bit of correspondence, especially to Congress.”

“I heard that they have moved from Philadelphia to Baltimore,” Christiane continued in her best drawing-room style.

“Unfortunately, yes, though if our luck holds, they should be able to return soon.”

This comment was left without a reply as Christiane glanced over just a Jakob and the general reached them. Christiane had the sudden impulse to pick up her skirts and run. Wrapped in a dirty quilt in clothes she had not washed in over a month, the humiliation of this moment almost crushed her, but again her chin went up.

“Mrs. Kruger,” the general addressed her politely. “Your husband thanked me again for the service of that courier and I wished to thank you for your continued devotion to our cause.”

Christiane curtseyed formally. “The general is too kind,” she murmured. There was an awkward pause for she was too abashed to refute his compliment.

His eyes lingering on her face, the general broke the silence, “I wish we could chat longer, but I have two more regiments to visit this morning.”

“We understand, of course, general,” she responded almost regally and extended her hand again. Then they were gone. Turning to Jakob, she spoke quietly, “Are you sure? I–”

“I know, Liebschein. I know. But it is only six weeks. Then we go to Jean Claude right away.”

Christiane only nodded. Nothing could be done anyway. Tears rushed up in her eyes. Not wanting him to see them, she turned away.

But Jakob did not let her leave. From behind he embraced her, resting his chin on her right shoulder. “Thank you, Christiane. You never complain. I make it up to you.”

Christiane was weighted down with a crushing load of despair, but she hid it from him. She nodded and turned to press her cheek to his. “I love you, Jakob,” she whispered. “Always.”

“I love you also, my sweet Liebschein. I know you don’t want to be here. But you stay–”

“I am committed now, Jakob.”

“You mean it?”

She nodded. “You and General Washington cannot be wrong. I trust you too much.”

They kissed then. Jakob crushed her once again to him. Then Michael Main called to him. Christiane turned to leave, but Jakob could not let go of her hand. Lifting her palm, he kissed it with great care and respect. Finally she pulled a way and left him. A glance over her shoulder revealed him, staring after her, sadness in his eyes.

#

Less than a week later the women were roused before dawn by the wagonmasters. It was time to move again–north. Christiane was glad to hear the direction. Going north would only bring her closer to Jean Claude. On the other side of the coin, however, this meant that Jakob might be in danger again. The British were smarting over their defeat at Trenton. Maybe they were coming to demand their pound of flesh. This aspect was not wasted on young Michael as the women went through the routine of packing.

“Michael,” Tildy gasped, “I don’t want to hear any more about it! You cannot stay with your father! Battle or no–children are not permitted to remain with the troops.” Even little William looked exasperated with his brother, his expression said that even he knew it was a crack-brained idea.

“But–” the child tried one last time.

“Not a word, Michael. Not one word,” Tildy slammed the argument shut. Christiane could see that the exchange had sapped her friend’s last bit of strength. Christiane wordlessly helped Tildy onto her place on the familiar wagon. William climbed up beside her and Christiane covered them both with the blankets. There was no clamor anymore for places on the wagons. Walking helped keep toes from freezing. Christiane mounted Nancy and hoisted Michael, still disgruntled, up behind her.

The wagons began to roll. Grimly Christiane faced a day of walking and riding through the freezing wind. In spite of the cold that chilled her to her very core, the roads were still stiffly muddy in spots. This slowed their progress and made the day all the more miserable. When they stopped to make a midday meal and to rest the horses and oxen, Michael begged to be allowed to travel with his friend, David. Tildy finally gave in, saying it would compensate him for his earlier disappointment. He left quickly with a loud whoop.

Soon they were back on the road again and the frigid miles inched on. Finally it was time to rest again, but not for the night. The order came down the line that they were to continue on as long as the stock could carry on. Muttered retorts greeted this as the weary women huddled around the few fires. They sipped hot tea from warm mugs and gnawed at hard bread.

“Christiane, I’m sorry to ask you this, but would you go get Michael. I think he should sleep on the wagon with William and me. I would go, but…,” Tildy asked.

“Certainly,” Christiane cut in. “I’ll get him right now.” She worked her way up the line to the wagon that David’s family travelled beside. “Michael! Michael!” she called when she came near it.

“Michael? Did you expect to find him here?” David’s mother answered from her place at the fire.

Fear sparked in Christiane’s inside. “Didn’t he come to you at midday?”

“No,” the woman answered, “I haven’t seen him all day.”

Christiane just stared at her. “Where could he be?”

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