would appear as the Negro servant John had appeared, as an ambulant skeleton, or even invisible to the naked eye, and we were anxious not to put our own men in fear of them. They were also to be issued with slouch hats, with bands of crow feathers around them, which John insisted would enhance their magical power."
Decker laid his hand on top of the papers, and Captair Morello took off her reading glasses and looked up. "Who could have seen this diary?" Decker asked her. "Apart fron Major Drewry and you? I mean, recently?"
"Nobody. It's been kept in the archives under lock anc key."
"Do you think there could be another copy of it some where?"
"I doubt it. It was tied up and sealed, presumably by Lieu tenant General Longstreet himself, and I'm pretty sure the sealing wax was original."
"So nobody could have seen this roster of names sine( 1864?"
"Not very likely, no."
"Yet three of our four homicide victims were descendant of one of these men. Maitland, Drewry, and Mason. And it' conceivable that Alison Maitland was descended from on( of them, too."
He hesitated, and then he said, "For that matter, so am I That was my great-great-grandaddy-----Frederick Decke Martin."
"But why should anybody want to kill them?"
"Grudge, I guess." He didn't want to tell her anything about his nightmares, or the way in which Cathy had ap peared in his apartment.
"Hell of a long time to bear a grudge."
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"I don't know."
"Maybe your perpetrator is somebody whose great-greatgrandfather was in the Union army, and got turned inside out, or struck by lightning, or whatever." She shrugged. "Just a wild guess. You know more about criminal motivation than I do."
"Well . . . you're right. People kill other people for the strangest reasons. Old guy in the Fan District strangled his wife last year for serving him spinach every day for thirty-eight years. But—go on—tell me more about the Devil's Brigade."
"Oh, for sure, because this is where it really gets interesting. Very early in the morning of May sixth, Longstreet marched his divisions up to Parker's Store on the Orange Plank Road, including the Devil's Brigade. They arrived about dawn. The whole line of the Union army was advancing through the woods, and up in front of them Heth's and Wilcox's divisions had broken, and they were running for their lives.
"It was at this point that Longstreet deployed Kershaw's division on the right of the plank road, and Field's on the left. They managed to check the enemy's advance, but it was impossible for them to make any real headway because the underbrush was so thick."
She started reading again from Longstreet's diary.
"The line of battle was pressed forward and we came in close proximity to the enemy. The dense and tangled undergrowth prevented a sight of the opposing forces, but every man felt they were near. Everything was hushed and still. No one dared to speak above a whisper. It was evening, and growing dark.
"Then a man coughed, and instantly the thicket was illu‑
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mined by the flash of a thousand muskets, the men leaped to their feet, the officers shouted, and the battle was recommenced. Neither side would yield, but I could see that some of the bravest officers and men of my corps were falling all around me, and I realized that our line was close to breaking point.
"I called for Major General Maitland and Colonel Mel-drum and advised them that I wished to send forward one of their special brigade to see what assistance he could give to our divisions. Colonel Meldrum argued that we should send forward at least four or five of them, but I was reluctant enough to send any at all. The Negro servant John said that if I was adamant that we should send only one, we should call upon Major Shroud to be possessed by the god of fire and lightning, Changó, since the woods and the thickets were highly inflammable, and the wind was in our favor, from the southwest.
"Major Shroud came forward and, witnessed by only four or five of us, performed a ceremony involving stones which he called 'thunderstones,' and the crushing of a snail, whose juice he dropped upon the stones, and oil. Then he brought forward a rooster and cut its throat, dropping its blood upon the stones also.
"The fighting was very close now, and musket balls were snapping through the underbrush and striking the trees. John made one last incantation and hung a necklace of red and white beads around Major Shroud's neck, which he explained were the sacred colors of Changó.
"The transformation of Major Shroud was appalling to behold. Like the Negro servant John, his flesh appeared to melt from his face like candlewax, leaving him the appearance of a grinning eyeless skull. He furled his greatcoat, and as he did so I could see that his chest was nothing but a bare rib cage.
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"John took a lighted cigar and blew a stream of smoke toward the enemy lines, uttering some words that were completely incomprehensible. Major Shroud turned and began to make his way in that direction. He appeared to be able to walk through the underbrush with no difficulty whatsoever, more like a terrible shadow than a man.
"Only a few minutes later, the woods were luridly lit by lightning, a hundred times brighter than the flashing of musketry. Lightning struck in eight or nine places all at once, and was followed by a peal of thunder that shook the very ground beneath our feet. Fires sprang up on every side, and in a very short time the woods were fiercely ablaze, here, there, and everywhere.
"Men scream in battle, when their bowels are penetrated by a musket ball, or their leg is torn off by solid shot, or their arms crushed by a minié round. I was familiar with such screams.
"But that night in the woods of the Wilderness I heard screams that sounded as if they had been uttered by souls being shoveled wholesale into the fires of hell. They were screams of such hopelessness that my very skin shrank, and when I turned to Major General Maitland and Colonel Me'drum to adjudge their reaction, I could see that they were similarly affected. Major General Maitland was so deathly white as to resemble a ghost of himself.