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“General Howe was at his own farewell party when word arrived that the Marquis was on the near side of the Schuylkill with a large force. He promised the ladies that they would soon dine with the famous Marquis de Lafayette, before he was sent to London as a prisoner. Howe and Clinton set out into the night with 8,000 men, aiming to bag ‘the boy’ .”
(David A. Clary, Adopted Son , p. 181)
It was a sunny morning in mid-May when Lafayette was summoned to General Washington’s office at headquarters. The Marquis had just returned from his expedition to Canada a few weeks ago, and the arrival of warmer days was a change he gratefully welcomed. The months spent in the winter encampment at Valley Forge and on his disastrous mission to Albany had been terribly cold, colder than he was used to from the winters he had experienced in France, and more men had succumbed to the cold and to illness than he had seen dying on the battlefield during his time in America. Thus, Lafayette was happy to finally feel the sun’s tender warmth on his skin again as he made his way through camp toward headquarters. The men he encountered on his way seemed to share his sentiment. Although the nights at Valley Forge were still quite brisk, the temperatures were now much more pleasant compared to a few weeks ago, and Lafayette received numerous friendly greetings as he rode along the tents and wooden huts the soldiers had spent the winter months in.
Lafayette wondered what it was that Washington intended to inform him of. Secretly, he hoped that he would offer him a command of a detachment, and thus enable him to prove himself as a general, after he had not been able to do so in Canada. However, he reminded himself not to harbor too high hopes. As the youngest Major-General in the army, he needed to subordinate himself to the more experienced generals, and he dreaded that after his mission at Albany had descended into a complete failure, he would not get another chance of commanding troops of his own any time soon.
Forcing himself to put aside the speculations and just wait for what Washington had to say, Lafayette ascended the stairs leading to the Commander’s headquarters. The guards at the main door saluted as they recognized him and let him pass. On the hallway of the first floor, Lafayette encountered John Laurens, who was balancing a stack of paper in one hand and three pots of inks in the other. The aide smiled at Lafayette.
“Morning! He is in his office,” Laurens greeted him and gestured vaguely in the direction of Washington’s office, causing the papers to tilt dangerously to one side. Apparently, Laurens already knew that Lafayette had come to see the General.
Lafayette thanked him, and suppressed the urge to reach out for Laurens’ papers to prevent them from falling. During his frequent visits to the aides’ office, he had been witness to many accidents involving ink, spilled coffee and displaced papers, but somehow, his friends had always been able to stay in control of their organized chaos impressively well.
Washington looked up from his desk as Lafayette entered his office and gave him a smile.
"Ah, Marquis, there you are," he said and pointed at an empty chair. "Please, have a seat."
Lafayette closed the door behind himself and sat down. The General's office had become something close to a second home during the winter, and after countless evenings he had spent here in Washington's company, discussing all kinds of topics with his friend and mentor, he felt comfortable here. Still, he could not help the nervosity rise in his chest, since Washington had not informed him beforehand of the reason for him being summoned here.
"You wanted to see me?", he asked. Washington nodded and reached for a folded letter to his right.
"I have new orders for you," he said and Lafayette felt a spark of excitement at his words. However, he forced himself to be quiet and wait for Washington to continue.
"As you know we have received intelligence from our spies in Philadelphia regarding a potential plan to evacuate the city. I will send two-thousand men, mainly light-infantry, towards Barren Hill to investigate the British movements, intercept their communication and supply lines and to serve as a defensive line, should Howe and Clinton venture too close to our encampment."
He paused for a moment.
"I want you to be in charge of the detachment."
It took a few seconds for Washington’s words to reach Lafayette’s brain. Then, however, a broad grin started to spread across his face. A command. A command of his own, with no one else to tell him what and what not to do. A chance to prove himself worthy of his rank. This was more than he had dared to hope for.
“Thank you, mon général , that is an honor, I-,” he began, before his excitement got the better of his English. Washington regarded him with a soft, affectionate smile.
“You will leave as soon as possible, preferably this afternoon,” he said, handing Lafayette the letter he had reached for earlier. “These are your orders.”
Still grinning from ear to ear, Lafayette accepted the letter with shaking hands. He was still not quite able to grasp the meaning of what he had just been told. Then, however, Washington grew serious. He leaned closer, fixating Lafayette with his eyes, as if to make sure that he would carefully listen to his words.
“I would advise you to act with the utmost prudence and discretion. You will command a vital part of this army and we cannot, under no circumstance, afford to lose these troops. Do not remain in one place for too long. You are not to engage in any combat unless it proves to be absolutely necessary. Is this understood?”
Lafayette nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.”
Washington’s expression softened again as he leaned back in his chair. Then, something appeared to occur to him.
“Oh, lest I forget,” he said, “You may take Laurens with you as your aide. I already informed him of your orders this morning, and he will be ready whenever you are.”
“I am delighted to hear that,” Lafayette replied, still smiling. The joy and pride of being given a command had just grown even greater by the prospect of undertaking the mission with one of his closest friends accompanying him. Laurens was a good companion, and a brave soldier, as he had proven multiple times already, and Lafayette was more than thrilled to have him join his detachment.
“I promise I shall not disappoint you, Sir,” Lafayette added, after he had grown serious again, “I will ready the men right away.”
Eager as he was, he had stood up from his chair and was already on his way toward the door, when he heard Washington speak again.
“Marquis.” There was a strange undertone to it, a trace of urgency and sorrow.
“Yes, mon général ?” Lafayette turned around to see that the General had risen from his desk. He seemed as though he was struggling with what to say, with a deep crease having appeared on his forehead. Washington avoided Lafayette's eyes as he walked around the desk and toward where the Marquis was still standing. He reached out with one hand, placing it gently on Lafayette's upper arm.
“Be careful,” he finally said, and to Lafayette, his words sounded more like a plea than an order. In his eyes, Lafayette recognized a mixture of fondness and worry, and it caused his heart to both grow heavy and take a leap inside his chest. Washington's obvious concern was quite endearing and Lafayette eagerly welcomed the subtle signs of affection offered to him by the General. After the events of Conway's conspiracy and Lafayette's return from Canada, Washington had become quite protective of his young friend and Lafayette, who had worked hard throughout the winter to prove his loyalty to Washington, took this as a positive sign. However, it also pained him to know that it was him who was causing the General's sorrow.
He saw some hesitation flicker over Washington's face. Then however, to Lafayette's surprise, Washington pulled him into an embrace. This kind of physical affection was quite untypical for Washington, but to Lafayette, it was nowhere near unwelcome. He smiled softly as he returned the hug. Washington was not a man of many words, but this gesture was a more than sufficient demonstration of his genuine concern for Lafayette's well-being, and Lafayette had to admit that he felt touched by it.
"I will," he said when they finally separated and smiled at Washington. The General returned the smile, though only tentatively.
When Lafayette left Washington's office, he was still smiling. The prospect of commanding more than two-thousand men was thrilling, and it filled his heart with pride that Washington had selected him for this assignment. He could have easily had an older, more experienced general command the detachment, but apparently, he wanted to give Lafayette another chance of proving himself and Lafayette was not going to disappoint him.
"Laurens!", he exclaimed as he entered the aides' office and his friend looked up at him with a grin.
"Ah, I see you have been told the news," Laurens said and rose from his desk. "I'm happy to join you. When are we moving out?"
"This afternoon. It is still quite early and if we give the orders right away, the men will be ready by three or four," Lafayette said, and Laurens nodded.
"I shall see to it," he said.
Lafayette was just about to leave the aides' office as he felt how someone nudged him into his side. He gasped and quickly turned around to see that Hamilton had just arrived at the office and, judging from the cheeky grin on his face, he was the one responsible for startling Lafayette.
"Congratulations, mon amí," Hamilton said, still grinning, and obviously quite pleased with himself after successfully spooking the Marquis. Apparently, word of Lafayette's new command had already spread.
“Thank you, Alexander, no need to scare me like this,” Lafayette said, but the broad grin on his face made his rebuke not very credible.
“You two,” Hamilton pointed at Lafayette and Laurens, “come back to me in one piece, alright? I could not bear taking care of all the paperwork by myself.”
He was saying this in a joking manner, but Lafayette knew his friend well enough to recognize the genuine worry in his voice. It was just now that he slowly began to feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, the responsibility for two-thousand lives, in his hands alone. He swallowed down the lump forming in his throat at the thought as the smile on his face began to fade.
*
They moved out in the afternoon, after only a few hours of readying the troops. Lafayette rode at the detachment’s head as he led them out of Valley Forge, Laurens following closely behind. It was a warm day, even for May, and for a second, Lafayette closed his eyes to enjoy the rays of sunlight warming his face. He had been able to successfully swallow down the worries that had taken hold of him earlier, and now, he was more eager and motivated than ever. And, he could not deny this, he was quite proud of the task he had been entrusted with. Smiling to himself, he patted his horse’s neck and urged the gelding into a light trot.
They made good progress without encountering any traces of enemy troops and in the early evening hours, around ten miles from headquarters, Lafayette ordered the men to set up their tents for the night. Barren Hill, as the elevation he had chosen for their encampment was called, was strategically convenient, since he was able to oversee both the road to Philadelphia, which he was supposed to keep a close eye on, and Germantown.
As he was dismounting from his horse, Laurens approached him.
“Are you certain this is a wise decision? We are...well, we are quite visible up here,” he said in a low voice, not wanting the men around to hear his criticism of their commander.
Lafayette frowned. He had indeed thought about the concern Laurens was voicing. Washington had explicitly ordered him not to stay in one place for longer than absolutely necessary, and setting up an encampment atop a hill was probably not what the General had had in mind.
“It is only for one or two nights,” he said, in an equally low voice, “I will send out scouts to secure the area and gather some intelligence. We will have enough time to leave, should someone discover us.”
Laurens did not look as though this answer had satisfied him. He sighed.
“If you say so. This is your command and it is not my place to challenge your decisions. But as your friend, let me tell you that I do not believe this to be a favorable position.”
Lafayette clenched his jaw as he watched Laurens leave. He hated to be criticized, and even though he was not angry with Laurens, the fact that one of his closest friends deemed his commanding style unwise was unsettling to him. A small voice in the back of his mind was telling him that maybe, Laurens was right. Maybe he was risking the lives of all these men by not exactly following Washington’s orders. The lump in his throat started to return. Shaking his head, Lafayette did his best to rid himself of the doubts that started to possess him. What if he really was unfit for a command of this size? There was a reason, after all, that usually, Major-Generals were not supposed to be only twenty years of age.
No, he thought, he was going to complete this assignment, and he was going to prove himself worthy of his rank. His doubts be damned.
*
Two nights and a day passed without any incidents worth mentioning. Lafayette sent out scouts and infantry to secure his position and keep an eye out for British troops but so far, no reports had reached Barren Hill. Slowly, Lafayette began to relax. Word had spread that General Howe would soon retire to Britain, and he figured that the army was still busy bidding their commander farewell. This would give him enough time to prepare his troops to leave their temporary camp and march closer to Philadelphia, in hopes that the proximity would provide him with more accurate intelligence reports.
It was the morning after the second night at Barren Hill, and Lafayette was writing a few orders concerning the troop movements he had planned for today, as a courier burst into his tent without even announcing himself. Startled, Lafayette looked up from his papers.
"What is the meaning of-," he began, but the man interrupted him.
"They found us, Sir," he said, struggling for air.
"Who found us? What are you talking about?"
"The redcoats, Sir. Howe and Clinton. They are on their way to Barren Hill. Six thousand men, at least," he reported, and Lafayette could recognize the same fear in the man's eyes that began creeping up his own spine.
"How far?"
The man shook his head. "I don't know, Sir. Five miles? They should be here by noon."
Lafayette nodded.
"Thank you. You are dismissed."
As soon as the tent flaps had closed behind the courier, Lafayette closed his eyes in defeat.
"Merde, " he whispered under his breath. He had not disclosed it to the courier, at least he hoped that he had not, but inside him, a turmoil of emotions was raging. First came the fear, fear of having failed both his men and Washington. Then came the anger about his own judgement of the situation which had apparently, as Laurens had predicted, been wrong. Six thousand men, that was probably the British main force. If he did not come up with an ingenious plan of escaping them, they would be shamefully defeated. Who knew what Howe and Clinton had in mind, should they capture him. Lafayette knew that owing to his young age, his ties to France and his friendship with Washington, he had become somewhat of a trophy the British were eager to hunt. If they were to capture him...no, he could not allow his fear to hamper his rational judgement. There was time for a retreat and his men were well-trained enough to execute such a maneuver. And in any case, the survival of his troops and the American cause was more important than his own.
Lafayette took a deep breath and exited his tent. He ordered some aides to tell his officers that they were being summoned for a council. While he waited for their arrival, he spread out a map of the area on his desk. How was he supposed to plan their escape when he did not even know the route the enemy was taking? He would have to send out more scouts which would cost him precious time. Blindly deciding for one way, not knowing whether or not the British were waiting for him on the other side was reckless.
His thoughts were cut short by the officers entering his tent. Lafayette thanked them for their speedy arrival and briefed them on their situation. After he finished his short report, a dreadful silence spread inside the tent. The men knew as well as Lafayette that they were about to be trapped.
Before anyone spoke up, a dragoon officer burst into the tent, saluting sloppily while he already began to speak.
“Sir, I have just received news from my scouts. The British appear to be planning to surround us. One unit has been spotted to our left, General Grant is approaching from our rear, and Clinton and Howe are approaching on the road to Philadelphia. We have to act right now, or they will find us delivered to them on a silver plate,” he said, and Lafayette felt his blood run cold. This was worse than he had thought. His hands were beginning to shake and he quickly clasped them behind his back. Some of the officers assembled here were twice his age, and he could not allow them to notice that he was on edge. This was his command, and he would finish what he had started. Eyes fixed on the map in front of him, Lafayette ordered the dragoon to repeat where exactly the British forces had been marching.
“Sir, I believe we-,” one of the officers began as the dragoon had finished his report, but Lafayette cut him off with a gesture of his hand.
“One moment, Major.”
The man fell silent. Lafayette’s palms were damp with sweat as he pointed at the map, but at least his hands had ceased shaking.
“There is one chance for us, and we will have to ceize it,” he said, “Here, along the river. They left this corridor unprotected. We will use it to escape, and when they arrive here, they will find Barren Hill deserted.”
He looked up into sceptical faces. Sighing internally, he continued with his explanation.
“We will leave a small unit of infantry behind. They will fire at the enemy from the woods, and distract them from our main force’s retreat. If the riflemen spread out along the treeline, we will make the British believe that we have a much larger force than we actually do. The moment of surprise will not last long, but it will give us enough time to escape their trap. Are there any objections?”
He was met with none. That either meant that the officers agreed to his plan, or that they were simply unable to think of a better solution. Either way, he proceeded to give out his orders to the officers. Now that he had come up with a tangible plan instead of having to rely on uncertain reports, his nervosity had turned into determination. There was still a chance for him to successfully complete the assignment while avoiding direct battle with the much larger British force.
As Lafayette exited his tent, Laurens followed him.
“This is a bold plan, my friend,” he said, but from his tone, Lafayette could discern that he meant it as a compliment rather than criticism.
“Forgive me, Laurens,” he said, stopping and turning to his friend, “I should have listened to your advice.”
Laurens shook his head and offered him a smile.
“No offense taken. And, if we succeed in making the redcoats look like fools, this will be more than worth the effort.”
Lafayette chuckled. “Oh, I do hope we will.”
All around them, the men were already beginning to take down their tents. Lafayette silently thanked von Steuben for the training he had given the American troops this past winter. Without some Prussian discipline, Lafayette mused, it would have probably taken them twice as long to even act on the orders they had been given. Word began to spread among the troops about the approaching British force, and thus, it only took them half an hour to disassemble their temporary camp and get into formation.
He ordered the decoy to move out, wishing its commander the best of luck. Lafayette did not need to mention to him that the survival of the entire detachment depended on the decoy's ability to distract the British and fool them into thinking that the American main force was waiting for them in the woods, and not just a few hundred men thinly spread along the tree line.
They waited a few minutes for the decoy to depart, until Lafayette gave the remaining men the order to move out as well. Ordering two thousand men to march quietly was not an easy task and Lafayette cursed silently as he realized how much noise the men were causing as soon as they began marching in formation.
"Do you think it will work?"
Laurens stirred his horse next to Lafayette as they watched the troops make their way down the hill. Like a snake slithering into its trap, Lafayette thought and shivered involuntarily.
"We do not have another chance," he said, and Laurens nodded in agreement.
"Let us hope that the woods will disguise us well enough," the aide said.
Lafayette hummed in agreement and sighed.
"It will take a miracle for the British not to hear us."
Laurens fell quiet for some seconds.
"There is almost no wind today. And I believe the forest ground will help to muffle the noise," he then said and Lafayette tried his best to believe him.
Around half an hour later, they reached the realm of the woods. Lafayette let out a breath he had been holding ever since departing from their station atop the hill. At least they had now escaped from where Clinton and Howe had intended to trap them. Now, however, they still had several miles to march along the river to slip right through the British's fingers.
From some distance, he could hear musket fire. The decoy had begun executing his plan. So far so good. Lafayette gripped his horse's reins tighter as the gelding grew nervous from the too familiar sound of nearby battle. The horse sensed its rider's tension and responded by adopting his nervousity. On the outside, Lafayette was composed, as he had to be in order to keep the men calm. A commander unable to control his nervousity was not a commander worth trusting and following. Inside, however, his heart was racing in his chest. If the British discovered that the decoy was in fact not the American main force but only a single battalion of infantry and a few of their Oneida allies, the entire detachment's death sentence would be as good as certain. Laurens, who had remained by his side, appeared quite tense, as well. Lafayette noticed him scanning the woods for traces of red uniforms, but so far, they had encountered no enemy forces. If Lafayette's calculations were right, Clinton and Howe should have almost reached Barren Hill by now. And if they were lucky, the large force would move too slowly to come after Lafayette and his much faster, maneuverable troops.
It took another half an hour of tense observation until a dragoon officer galloped up to them from the rear. He slowed down beside Lafayette and Laurens.
“Sir! The British have arrived at Barren Hill. Do you want the decoy to retreat?”, the man asked and Lafayette nodded.
“Yes, thank you, Captain. I order an immediate retreat. Your men are to rejoin the main force as quickly as possible.”
The dragoon saluted and turned his horse around, galloping back along the lines. In the meantime, they had reached the bridge across Schuylkill river. Lafayette could still make out some gun fire in the distance, and he hoped that the decoy was going to be fast enough to retreat successfully. They still were easy prey for Clinton and Howe, and only after crossing the river their escape would be completed. He knew that the British would not come after them after them across Schuylkill. Encircling and trapping Lafayette was the only plan they had had, and for now, it looked as though that plan had failed. Lafayette watched as the vanguard crossed the bridge, the tension in his limbs slowly decreasing with every regiment that had arrived safely on the other side. Laurens and him crossed the bridge alongside the last cavalry unit.
“Seems as though your plan worked out quite perfectly,” Laurens said, grinning broadly at Lafayette. Exhaling shakily, Lafayette smiled at him. It was only now that he realized that they were safe. They had escaped with barely a scratch. Not only had no more than five of the over two-thousand men entrusted to him lost their lives today, they had also outsmarted the British Generals, an achievement that made him quite proud, to say the least. He would return home to Valley Forge with his detachment intact, and with a more than successful maneuver in his pocket.
“Well done, General. We made them look like fools,” one Colonel said, as he stirred his horse past the Marquis. Lafayette was reveling in the praise and admiration of his officers and the troops. He could not wait to return home, and provide Washington with a first-hand report of their successful escape.
*
Two weeks later, Lafayette and his men returned to Valley Forge. The encampment had changed in their almost three weeks of absence. Where there had been only mud and puddles before, tentative blades of grass could now be found, slowly covering up the traces of a horrible winter. Where once there had been only starvation and despair, men were sitting outside their tents and huts, smiling and talking to each other. It was a sight that caused hope to grow in Lafayette's heart.
Hamilton met Laurens and Lafayette in front of Washington's headquarters. He embraced Laurens as soon as he had dismounted, and for a moment, Lafayette believed to see a faint shimmer of tears in Hamilton's eyes. Smiling softly to himself, he dismounted as well. He was well aware that the bond his two friends shared went beyond the affections he himself entertained for both Hamilton and Laurens, and although they had never discussed the matter, Lafayette had given them a silent promise to never disclose his knowledge to anyone. If anything, it was one more reason for him to be glad that he had brought the entire detachment, including Laurens, back to Valley Forge without a scratch.
As Hamilton turned to Lafayette, the aide had regained his smile.
"Lucky bastard," he said, "we worried we would not get to see you again."
"Oh, believe me, for a moment I feared the same. But we made Clinton and Howe look like fools," Lafayette said with a grin. It was only now that he realized that Washington was nowhere to be seen. During the past months, it had become a habit for the General to greet Lafayette in front of headquarters whenever the Marquis returned to camp from an assignment, but today, Washington had not been waiting outside. Lafayette knew that he was probably just occupied with councils and paperwork, but still, this induced a slight worry in him.
"He is inside," Hamilton said, as if he had read Lafayette's thoughts.
"I should go and report to him," Lafayette said, and he could see how something in Hamilton's expression changed, something he could not quite read.
"Alexander, is everything alright?"
Hamilton quickly nodded.
"Yes, yes. It is just- " he paused for a moment and signaled Lafayette to follow him inside, "Well, he was not very pleased with your...recklessness. His words, not mine."
Lafayette stopped halfway through the door.
"What do you mean?"
A strange feeling began pooling in his stomach, a mixture of fear and confusion. Had he disappointed Washington? Had he made him angry?
Hamilton gently hustled him inside and Lafayette complied, not any less alarmed.
"I did not mean to scare you," Hamilton said, "I merely intended to tell you beforehand that he might not be in the best mood. He was worried about your safety and you took quite a risk by setting up a camp."
His words did not contribute much to reducing the growing anxiety in Lafayette's chest and apparently, this was showing on his face. Hamilton smiled at him and gave him a nudge with his elbow.
"Come on, my friend, you are looking like a frightened deer. He is too attached to you to be angry with you for very long. After all, you performed brilliantly, if you were to ask me."
Lafayette gave him what he hoped resembled a smile.
"Thank you, Alexander," he said, before he left Hamilton and made his way toward the staircase leading up to headquarters' first floor. Before Washington's office, he stopped. Under normal circumstances, he would have knocked and entered without hesitation, a smile on his lips at the prospect of being reunited with the General. Now however, Lafayette felt nauseous. His heart was racing in his chest with anxiety and worry, and for a moment, he felt reminded of the first few times that he had talked to Washington last year, with his poor English and with shaking hands hidden behind his back. He did not want to return to this and have mistrust and fear replace the tender affection of their friendship they had built so carefully over the course of the last months.
Realizing that he had spent at least two minutes brooding in front of Washington's office, Lafayette finally knocked at the door.
"Come in," he heard Washington call almost immediately and Lafayette straightened his back before he entered. He found Washington sitting at his desk, eyes focused on a letter in front of him. Clearing his throat, Lafayette closed the door behind himself. Washington looked up briefly, indicating with a gesture that he wanted him to take a seat, and then returned his attention to his papers. Lafayette waited, though impatiently. He knew that Washington was not really reading the letter. Eventually, he could not bear the silence any longer.
" Mon général, I-" he started at the exact same moment in which Washington said "Marquis-".
Lafayette fell silent. Their eyes met as Washington finally looked up and Lafayette tried and failed to read the expression on Washington's face.
"Marquis," Washington started again, and Lafayette suppressed a shiver at the sternness in his voice, "would you be so kind to briefly report on your assignment?"
Lafayette knew that Washington was well aware of the course of action, through various reports he had doubtlessly already received and read. Still, he complied and began to summarize the events of Barren Hill, starting with their encampment and ending with their risky escape. As he finished, silence fell over them. The ticking of the clock on the wall behind Washington sounded absurdly loud to Lafayette, and he felt his palms grow damp with sweat.
“And would you say that setting up a temporary camp was a wise decision?” Washington finally asked. Lafayette swallowed.
“No, Sir.”
“I ordered you to refrain from staying in one place for too long for a reason. I am certain you will now understand why.”
Lafayette hated this. He disliked having his decisions questioned by anyone, but to hear criticism from the man he admired most pained him, even though he knew that Washington was right. He had disobeyed his orders and risked the troops’ safety in a moment of youthful recklessness.
“I do apologize, mon général, I-” Lafayette, but Washington was quick to silence him with a gesture of his hand.
“I was not finished, Marquis. I disapprove of you ignoring my advice; however, I have to acknowledge that your conduct in the retreat was admirable and that you demonstrated a talent for commanding light troops. Had I been in your situation, I would not have been able to come up with a better solution to the threat you were facing. You came back with only minor casualties and you outsmarted Howe and Clinton. I daresay that you inflicted a greater wound to them than you could have in open battle or by merely gathering intelligence.”
Lafayette blinked in surprise. He had not expected Washington to compliment him on what had happened at Barren Hill, at least not since Hamilton had informed him about the General's disapproval. He opened his mouth to respond, but Washington continued before he got the chance to react.
“I wrote a letter to Congress, notifying them of your merits during this campaign, and recommending you for further commanding positions,” Washington said, leaving Lafayette at a loss for words.
“Thank you, Sir,” he finally said, not daring to smile just yet. Washington nodded sharply and then lowered his gaze onto the letter before him.
“That will be all,” he said, and Lafayette flinched at his words. Washington’s voice sounded unusually cold and distant, and it lacked the warm, affectionate undertone it usually had when Washington spoke to him. He did not understand. Had Washington not just expressed his compliments for his conduct? Why, then, did it feel like he was angry with him, like he was pushing him away? He remained sitting on his chair, momentarily frozen in place by both hurt and confusion.
As Lafayette showed no signs of leaving, Washington looked up at him with a questioning expression.
“Is there anything else you would want to speak to me about?”
Lafayette felt nausea rise inside him.
“Sir, I apologize if I did anything to offend you. I merely did what I assumed would be the best in our given situation. Just- I fail to understand why- why you are angry with me,” he said, sounding more desperate than he had intended to. Washington stared at his desk for a moment longer, before something in his expression changed. Lafayette watched as the cold sternness vanished, and as his eyes met Washington’s, he believed to recognize the same emotion he had seen in his friend before he had sent him on his mission three weeks ago, a strange mixture of grief and worry. When Washington spoke again, his voice was softer than before, and stricken with sorrow.
“Were you aware of the danger you were in? Of the price such reckless behavior can demand?”
Lafayette had run out of both answers and excuses. Thus, he remained silent.
“They were on a hunt for you, my dear Marquis. This was not about defeating parts of this army, this was about you. I know from trustworthy sources that Howe was not interested in attacking your troops until he learned that it was you who was leading them. He planned to take you captive and ship you off to London, and God knows what would have been your fate, had he succeeded.”
Lafayette shivered involuntarily as he heard the crack in Washington’s voice.
“I only asked one thing of you, and that was to be careful. And you-” Washington averted his face, and Lafayette felt a pang in his chest as he saw tears shimmer in his friends eyes. "You gambled with your life, son. You may be young, but you are not immortal. Do not believe that your fame will save you once the British get their hands on you.”
Washington's hand that had been resting on the desk balled into a tight fist as he spoke, with his knuckles turning white. Suddenly, he rose from his chair and walked over to the window behind his desk, staring out at the camp over which the sun had begun to descend. Lafayette followed him with his eyes and his heart ached at the sight of his friend's trembling shoulders. It had always been hard on him to witness Washington being distressed, but to know that he was the reason for his sorrow was ten times worse.
"I have to confess that I was unaware that I was the target of Howe's attack," Lafayette finally said, and it felt like a ridiculously weak statement, compared to what Washington had told him. Yes, he had thought about the consequences of being captured for a brief moment, about the possibility of Howe dragging him to England and using him as a means to blackmail the Americans, or maybe even having him hang from the gallows to break their spirits. But that thought had faded quickly in light of the imminent danger to the detachment under his command.
Washington remained silent, a dark, broad silhouette against the faint sunlight falling through the window. Lafayette rose from his chair, taking a few steps toward him.
“I know that I took a risk and I apologize for it. But I promise that I was doing everything in my power to protect my men, and bring them back here.”
“I know that,” Washington said, so quietly that Lafayette could barely understand him. Still, the General did not turn back toward him, but continued staring out the window, his face intentionally hidden from Lafayette.
“I came to America to fight in a war, and I always knew that there was a possibility that I would lose my life on the battlefield. If that is the price for victory and for glory, I am willing to pay it,” Lafayette said, and for a second, it scared him that his words reflected exactly what he felt. Yes, if it was his fate, he was willing to die for the American cause, and he always had been.
Lafayette had barely finished his sentence, when Washington turned around, crossed the distance between them with a few strides and grabbed him by the lapels of his uniform coat. He gasped in surprise, and flinched instinctively, eyes widening. He had never been afraid of Washington, and he was not afraid of him now, but to claim that he was not intimidated would have been a lie.
“Do not speak of your own death so thoughtlessly,” Washington growled, “you do not know what you are saying. I cannot allow you to sacrifice your life in some meaningless battle. Do you think you can be easily replaced? Are you really this oblivious of your importance to this war?”
He paused for a moment as his voice threatened to crack, and Lafayette realized with horror that Washington was on the verge of tears.
“Are you this oblivious of your importance to me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper now, and Lafayette felt him let go of his coat and take hold of his upper arm instead, much gentler this time. His heart ached as he recognized the unconcealed pain in Washington’s eyes as he spoke again. “My dear boy, are not aware of the amount of affection I feel for you? I know that I cannot shield you from harm, and even if I could, that you would never allow it, but please, Marquis, will you promise me only one thing?”
Lafayette did not need to think about his answer.
“Anything.”
“Do not challenge fate like this again. If not for your sake, then for mine.”
All anger had vanished from Washington’s eyes as they met Lafayette’s, and the silent, almost desperate plea written on his face made Lafayette’s heart ache.
“I promise,” he said, softly, hoping that Washington would recognize the sincerity behind his words. A wave of relief washed over Lafayette as Washington, instead of responding, let go of his arm and pulled him into a warm embrace. The tension in his shoulders began to vanish and he let out a shaky breath he had been holding for quite a while now. He had been frightened at the possibility of having lost both Washington’s trust and the friendship with him that he treasured like no other. Receiving proof of the General’s attachment to him, as painful as it was to see him this sorrowful, felt like a soothing balm to the wound his words had inflicted on him earlier, and the slow realization that Washington was not angry with him, but rather overly concerned for his safety, calmed his racing heart and filled it with a wave of affection.
“I promise,” he repeated, and only now, Washington released him from their embrace. Lafayette offered him a shaky smile, and as Washington returned it after a long second, with the familiar softness Lafayette had missed dearly having returned to his eyes, he knew that he was forgiven.