-= 127 =-
November 1783
Pennsylvania
The stench struck him even before they passed through the foot thick doors reinforced with bars of steel. Urine and waste, sweat and unwashed bodies, and fear. Yes, Captain Andre could smell the fear as two guards led him through the prison courtyard. Stone walls rose around him, cold and grey, promising no comfort whatsoever. The guards seemed immune to the despair that hung in the air and rested on his shoulders like a solid weight. They weren't, of course. Andre had seen a few jails in London, and had a good idea what dealing with and inflicting this kind of misery could do to a soul.
"In here," one of the guards growled, and they entered the prison itself. The corridor was narrow and unlit, and the spy could feel the walls closing in on him. A table by the door sported a handful of lamps. The other guard grabbed one of these and lit it. Andre didn't think he'd ever been more grateful in his life.
"Is it far?" he asked.
The first guard grunted something that could have meant anything. They walked down another passage, past several cells where prisoners, dazzled by the sudden light, shielded their eyes. Another reinforced door, and a last locked and barred door. "In there."
"Very well." Andre sniffed. "Leave us."
"I think not."
"Then wait beyond the door. He's not going anywhere. I don't have a key, I couldn't let him out if I wanted to."
"I'm staying," the guard snarled. He turned to his associate. "You can go back. Leave the lamp."
The other guard puzzled how to get back without light, but it hadn't been a request. "Aye." He rested the lamp on the ground and left uncertainly.
Andre frowned at the older guard. Still, his presence signified nothing. "Allen!"
Movement from behind the door. "I thought I smelled something foul, Andrews."
The spy picked up the lamp and looked through the steel bars. Allen stood in the middle of his cramped room, chained to a heavy ball. Bruises, cuts and burns covered his face, arms and bare chest. "I see you're being treated well."
"Aye, your interrogators are quite thorough." Congress was convinced Allen was part of some vast insurgency and tried to find out his accomplices by various means. After three weeks they'd finally given up.
"I come with a message. Give up your men, and you can live in exile." Andre folded his arms.
"Your interrogators tried that. I didn't believe them. I don't believe you." Allen tried to approach, but the chain stopped him. "I have a message as well. You're going to die."
"We don't have to do this. Pick a place: Canada, Ireland, Britain...."
"My home is Vermont."
"That's quite impossible."
"Tell me, does a coward bleed red when he dies, or yellow like his soul?"
"I don't think you will have a chance to find out," Andre replied stiffly.
The Green Mountain leader grinned, revealing several broken teeth. "You may murder me, but ten will rise in my place. Do you really think this will change anything? Tomorrow I shall be a martyr, and there will be no place you can go, no place you can hide where we won't find you."
"Let's go," the guard rumbled.
Andre ignored him. "You speak well for a man behind a locked door feasting on rats."
"I have nothing to lose, Andrews. What do you have to lose? We'll find out you know. We know you're not from Bennington, and when we find out where you're from we'll destroy you. First your home, then your wife, then your children. Or maybe we'll reverse that." Allen grinned coldly.
"No wife, no children."
"And then we'll chop your carcass into bite-sized bits and feed you to the stray dogs and cats."
"I think I shall enjoy watching you dance tomorrow." Andre turned and left, Ethan Allen's laughter echoing in his ears.
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December 1783
James Madison, representing Virginia, stood in Congress and somberly surveyed his companions. He didn't know many of them well, and didn't even like a few, but this was clearly bigger than any of them. "Gentlemen, I don't need to tell you what happened yesterday." Grave nods. "We can only assume our earlier theory was correct, and there is a conspiracy in place to destroy Congress and therefore the United States."
"You're reaching, Mister Madison," Adams replied. "Such fearmongering..."
"The chair continues to recognize Virgnia," Jefferson snapped. The two glared.
Madison coughed. "We were unable to determine details of this conspiracy, but it is obviously powerful and far reaching. Gentlemen, I realize you do not like hearing this, but we must take decisive action now before our entire nation devolves into anarchy."
"Anarchy?" William Ellery rose. "Sir, a few protests hardly counts as anarchy."
"Quite right!" Adams agreed.
"We do not know how far reaching this insurrection is," Madison replied. "What will happen next? One of us perhaps? Or perhaps one of the governors? Perhaps your governor? A simple protest now, Mister Ellery, can easily devolve."
"And I can easily imagine Parliament having this discussion twelve or thirteen years ago," Adams snapped. "Boston had one of these simple protests in the year seventy, and the British overreacted and slaughtered innocents. This is what you propose, sir, an overreaction."
"Order!" Jefferson barked, banging his gavel.
"The only one being disorderly is you," Adams growled. "Mister Madison's proposal is extreme. It will be debated."
"Mister Adams...."
"It's alright, Mister President." Madison turned to the Massachusetts delegate. "I can not speak for the incident in Boston. I can clearly speak for what is happening in Philadelphia, today."
John Jay, representing New York, stood. "I have to concur with Mister Madison."
"John!" Adams protested.
"This insurrection has secured a foothold in the Green Mountains. We've tried to warn you about this for years, but only now do we see the extent of their perfidy. Gentlemen, we must crush this before it spreads. I don't think any of us take pleasure in these measures, but the security and stability of this nation must be retained."
"He that would give up essential liberties," Adams quoted.
"And thus ensure his wife and children will not have to face the horror of war on their soil is doing them a favor, and securing
their freedom," Pennsylvania rose. "As the representatives of our citizens, it is our duty to see to their inalienable rights, yes. Our greater duty is to ensure our people enjoy the safety needed to take advantage of those rights."
"But we don't even know if this insurrection exists!"
"I think we have adequate proof," Madison replied. He turned to Jefferson. "I'd like to vote."
Adams looked around the room, counting votes. He frowned then, gathered his papers and stood.
"And where are you going?" Jefferson demanded.
"I have no wish to be present during this travesty." Adams bowed coldly to the president's table - the office, not the man - and stalked out.
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John Jay was a large man, the kind who enjoyed good food and good wine. He'd made his living as a lawyer and judge and knew many influential people throughout the northern states. He strode into the hospital, with its curious scent of chemicals and herbs the judge couldn't identify, and spoke briefly with the porter. The porter sent him to a nurse, who in turn led him to a quiet, darkened room.
"He's asleep," she warned softly. "You shouldn't wake him."
"I won't," Jay promised. He walked in, removed his hat and sat by the patient.
Jonathan Andrews a/k/a John Andre was covered with bandages, some pink with blood. Both arms and one of his legs were splinted and some foul smelling poultice had been applied to his bruised ribs. Guards came upon what was officially a savage mugging and blew their whistles, summoning help and hovering over the mauled and hacked congressman until a cart could carry him here.
"Never you mind it," he told Andre softly. "I convinced Congress to act. These Green Mountain boys will be far too busy dealing with us to trouble you further."