Crow stepped back a pace, disdainful. "It's a matter of policy, Mrs. Main."
"What policy? To keep me on a leash you can cut any time you choose?"
"Are you referring to foreclosure?"
"Yes. Is that a matter of policy, too?"
"Kindly lower your voice. Why should the Palmetto Bank wish to foreclose on Mont Royal? It's valuable land, with dramatically improved prospects for generating income. You're raising an extraneous issue." He thought a moment, then added, "Of course it's true that foreclosure remains an option of the bank, should you default. But in that event, the person to suffer would be the owner, Mr. Main. I'm sure you wouldn't want to be responsible for putting your relative in such a position —"
The point — the threat — was made. But how clumsy they were, how obvious in their passion to control her. Was the whole State, the whole South, still insane on the subject of Africanization! Surely, surely they no longer feared unlikely conspiracies, uprisings, arson plots against property, the raping of white women —
Then, abruptly, intuition pointed to the real cause, less dramatic but nevertheless lethaclass="underline" the convention. It was meddling with the vote, and with taxes; it threatened to touch white money. Did Leverett Dawkins know of her connection with a black delegate? He must.
Crow stood behind a gleaming oak rail with a gate in it. Provoked by his rebuflf, and by snide looks from c couple of tellers, she reached for the gate. "I'm a good customer of this bank, Mr. Crow. I'm not satisfied with your explanations, or happy about your rudeness. I'm going to take this up with Leverett whether he's busy or not."
"Madam, you will not." Crow seized and held the gate shut.
"Please leave. Mr. Dawkins reminds you that colored are not welcome on these premises."
He walked off. Her eyes brimming with tears of rage, she fled.
... Some of the shock of the bank experience is leaving. But not the humiliation — or the anger.
March, 1868. What confusion and melodrama! Two months ago the Senate in executive session refused to concur in the matter of the suspension of Mr. Stanton, whereupon Gen. Grant resigned and permitted Stanton to return to his War Dept. offices. Johnson immediately appointed Gen. Lorenzo Thomas in Grant's place, and Thomas boasted that he'd remove Stanton by force if need be — whereupon Stanton quite literally barricaded himself in his rooms and had a warrant drawn for the arrest of Thomas! The warrant was delivered at a masked ball!! — it would all be perfect for a comic opera libretto if the passions behind it were not deep and deadly.
But they are, and the wolves pursuing Johnson have at last cornered him. On the 24th instant, a vote to impeach for "high crimes and misdemeanors" passed in the U.S. House by substantial margin. It is an event without precedent in the nation's history, and those on both sides are rabid about it. Stout and his crowd call J. "the arch-apostate," insisting that he has betrayed Lincoln, the Constitution, the nation, etc. The President's supporters claim that he, deeming the Tenure of Office Act unconstitutional, had no choice but to test it by direct action. The Radicals are bent on bringing him to trial. I cannot believe a chief executive will be so humiliated. Yet many are rejoicing at the prospect ...
Andy home last night. The convention adjourned after 53 days, having called special elections for April to ratify the new constitution and elect state and national representatives. ...
Topper here with assay results. I confronted him with the deceit about Stout's ownership of his firm. With a cool arrogance I have noted in some short men, and many lawyers, he turned aside my accusation by showing a profit projection based on the assay. The sums are staggering. ...
... Much activity in the district. Horsemen on the road at all hours, lanterns glimmering in the marshes long into the night. I suspect either the election campaign or the influx of surveyors, mining experts, etc. But neither can altogether explain a curious change among the freedmen. Few are smiling, and they seem easily alarmed. I hear many conversations kept private by the use of the swift Gullah tongue, which must be clearly overheard to be understood. ...
... I am convinced now — they are frightened. Prudence has noticed it. Why?
The Imperial Wizard came by night.
In a lonely grove of great oaks a mile from Summerton, they planted and lit a ring of torches. Wives and sweethearts had sewn the regalia according to instructions sent earlier by letter. The Invisible Empire prescribed no color for regalia. At Des's urging, the initiates chose red. Gettys had paid for the expensive yard goods out of his handsome earnings from the Dixie Store.
Standing six feet two inches and powerfully built, General Nathan Bedford Forrest had a swarthy complexion and gray-blue eyes. Streaks of white showed in his wavy black hair and neat chin beard. He impressed the initiates as a man it would be unwise to challenge. When he presented them with an official copy of the Prescript, the national constitution, and told them the fee was ten dollars, no one objected.
The initiates stood in a line. The torches smoked and hissed around them. Erect and clear-eyed, Forrest moved from man to man, inspecting them. Des was almost dizzy with excitement. Jack Jolly carried himself with a certain smugness; this was his old leader, after all. Gettys sweated, though not nearly so much as Father Lovewell, who kept shooting glances into the insect-murmurous dark beyond the torches. One of the two farmers who completed the group recognized the priest, whom he saw in church every Sunday.
Forrest began his instruction.
"This is an institution of humanity, mercy, and patriotism. Its genesis and organizing principles embody all that is chivalric in conduct, noble in sentiment, heroic in spirit. Knowing of your previous declaration of loyalty to these principles, I shall, by order of the Grand Dragon of the Realm of Carolina, ask you ten questions."
His stem eyes raked them. "Have you ever belonged to or subscribed to the principles of the Radical Republican Party, the Union League, or the Grand Army of the Republic?"
As one, ''No."
"Do you righteously oppose Negro equality, both social and political?"
"Yes."
"Do you advocate a white man's government?"
"Yes."
"Do you favor constitutional liberty, and a government of equitable laws instead of a government of violence and oppression?"
"Yes!"
So it went, for nearly an hour. The lessons:
"We protect the weak, the innocent, the defenseless, against the lawlessness and lust of the violent, the brutal, the deranged. ...We serve the injured, the suffering, the unfortunate, giving first priority and highest allegiance to widows and orphans of the Confederate dead."
The rules:
"Any ritual, hand grip, code or pass word, as well as the origins, designs, mysteries, and other proprietary secrets of this organization shall not be knowingly betrayed. If any are so betrayed, the perpetrator shall incur the full and extreme penalty of our law. Never shall the name of the organization be written by any member. For purposes of printed announcement it shall be identified always and only by one, two, or three asterisks."
The investiture:
From the ground, Forrest plucked up a robe and sacklike hood of shiny sateen-weave cotton. Solemnly, he handed these to Des.
"I endow you with the title, rights, and privileges of Grand Cyclops of the klavern and, additionally, the title, rights, and responsibilities of Grand Titan of this district."