He remained hesitant, though, as he was very strict with himself in such matters. What he argued then was that it was only lack of feminine company for so long that made him feel as he did. The line of thought turned on him, however, and he found himself arguing that this was a perfectly good reason why he should enjoy her company the coming weekend. He told himself to let his boldness have its way and see how far it would get him. Despite his efforts to quell it, he found this inner arguing and turmoil delicious in and of itself, both as its own pleasure and as an intimation of larger ones to come.
He reached the inn with the same lightness he had felt the day before, knowing he would accept her invitation, from curiosity if not the growing loneliness he felt there in those days.
He hoisted himself up the few stairs that led to the door and entered the hotel, hoping his new suits might be ready before the weekend. As he continued on to his room, he heard his name called. He was delighted indeed when he turned around to see Mr. Miles waiting.
“Mr. Miles,” he said, greeting the other man. “Have you been here long?”
“No, sir,” Mr. Miles answered. “Only just ahead of you. I have your order ready, and have brought it around so you can try it for fit.” Caleum nodded, and indicated that Mr. Miles should follow him up to his room. When he closed the door, Mr. Miles opened the large box he was carrying and removed from it the most beautiful piece of wood Caleum had ever beheld.
He peered at it a long while, then stretched out his hand and let his fingers touch the new limb, and it looked exactly like a leg, so much so that but for its texture and shading he would be hard pressed to tell it from his other. It felt cold and ungiving, such that no one would ever mistake it for the living thing, but it was no less accomplished because of that and even seemed alive in its way.
“Do you wish to try it?”
He nodded, and Mr. Miles approached and began explaining the fastening mechanism he had crafted, so that the binding of wood and flesh would be absolute and dependable.
“It takes a bit getting used to,” he went on, as Caleum sat down and allowed the man to affix the wood to his gnarled stump with greater care than any doctor he ever encountered. When he stood, Mr. Miles handed to him a cane made of the same wood as the leg, and it was just as well-fashioned and polished.
“You might want to keep with the crutches for a while, but in time this will give you a little better mobility,” he explained, while Caleum walked from one end of the room to the other.
“I have seldom seen such craftsmanship, Mr. Miles,” he told the other man, moved to joy by what he had made. “It is not so heavy as it seemed in the box and feels very strong.”
“Aye, your coins are the same mint, but for this, Mr. Merian, even steel could not cut it.”
“Aye, Mr. Miles, I knew the blade that could,” Caleum said, casting his eyes at his visitor, who then looked at the still living stump of Caleum’s leg above the wood, before averting his gaze.
Caleum went back and forth across the room several more times, growing used to the new appendage, until he thought he could feel not only the impact of the wood with the floor, but that he also sensed when anything was near the wood as well, even though he knew this to be an impossibility. When he was satisfied, he sat down.
“Thank you for such a fine job, Mr. Miles,” he said.
“I tried to give it my best, sir,” the man answered. “If you need anything else at all, please don’t hesitate to send for me at my workshop.”
With that he stood and began to withdraw. Caleum lifted himself again to see his visitor to the door. When the other man had gone, he went back and forth across the room again, before putting on his old coat and going out to try his new leg in the street.
Once he exited the hotel, however, he felt an immediate self-consciousness. To see a man without a leg did not seem so strange, but to see one upon a wooden leg he worried would be odd. Nevertheless, he began walking toward Bowling Green with as much confidence as he could muster, trusting this new leg beneath him would be faithful.
By the time he reached the great lawn he could feel the weight of the wood and found himself tired from carrying this new burden. He found a bench to rest upon and sat there, looking out toward the Sound as the autumn wind blew north. As he watched the sails moving out in the harbor, through the barren branches, he wondered which of these vessels might take him home if he went down to the dock at that moment to book passage. If he went that very day he might even make it in time for Rose’s birthday.
He knew, though, he would not go that day. He needed at least another week to finish his business there, and to recuperate, before taking up the burden of travel again, to say nothing of husbandry.
He thought again about the shock it would be for them at home, when they saw him, and wondered how he would be able to fit into his former life again. Although every year he had seen those conscripted go from being farmers to soldiers and others going back again the other way, he did not see how it could be so simple a movement and knew the first one was easier than the other. It takes awhile to relearn one’s former self, he thought to himself, as he looked toward the ocean, if ever it is possible again.
He wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pressing the embroidery inside his coat against his body. I will make it there in time for Thanksgiving, he promised himself, and he was satisfied as evening fell and he walked back to the inn for supper.
four
He arrived at the hall, on a narrow, slanting street off the main way, promptly at eight o’clock, only to find it still deserted. He went to the bar and ordered a glass of rum, which he took to a table off on one side of the room and sat alone, nursing it. By nine o’clock the hall had grown half full with people, but he still did not see Elissa. He told himself it had been the remotest of possibilities to begin with, and that she had never promised him her company. Perhaps she had been teasing, and it was only her way. He tried to decide then whether he should leave to find other amusement or stay on in any case, to see what else might unfold there that night. He felt foolish, though, and had decided to leave when he saw two faces appear at the entrance whom he recognized from his past.
The first to enter was Carl Schuyler, from the army, and just behind him was the slave Julius from Berkeley. When they saw him they immediately came over to his table, and he stood up to shake each of their hands, glad to be reacquainted and, beyond that, elated to see familiar faces.
Julius, who had known him longer, was first to speak. “The last time I saw you, they was leading you from the battlefield, and we all thought for sure you’d died.”
“I did not,” Caleum answered, signaling to the waiter for more drinks. “But I came powerful close. Has your own tour ended?” he asked next, changing the subject from his own fortunes.
“No, but the fighting has stopped for the winter, so we were given a leave.”
“We can travel on to Berkeley together, then,” Caleum said to Julius. “It is good to have company on the road.”
“Any other time I would, but I’m not headed back that way.”
“That’s where your sister Claudia and the rest of your people are,” Caleum said. “They’ll want to see you.”
“Unless I want to be always and ever somebody’s slave,” Julius answered, “there is no place for me there anymore.”
Caleum could only nod at this. “Where will you go instead?”
“I don’t know yet, but not back to bondage,” he said defiantly. “Not under my own power, at least.”
“Then we must make the most of our meeting,” Caleum proclaimed. He had never been one for rich meals and lavish wines, but he ordered as well as they could from the menu offered in the hall that night. Their table was laid with the best fruits of the harvest, and the choicest meats, and they dined sumptuously, reminiscing and telling feats of past bravery and wishing one another only good fortune for the future, especially for Julius in his new plans.