Inked In Crimson #11 (He)

Dear Katherine

My head was overflowing with doubts and suspicions, and I thought it was best to decide things once and for all.

I felt it wasn’t appropriate to press you too much during my visit today. Noticing your perspiration when I asked you about the note made me realize that the problem is way more significant than I had assumed. On the other hand, I didn’t want to pressurize or blackmail you into forcibly accepting the truth - which apparently isn’t yet justified as the truth - and rather wanted to handle the issue with my own hands.

I wanted to search your house.

I managed to steal your key from the table, away from your eyes, while I was leaving.

I began my descent from the army camp on the way to your house. I waited behind a bush expecting you to come out so that I may break in. Eventually, you did emerge out and made way towards the public church. I found this the right moment to enter inside.

Although I did visit this house before then, it was then that I realized how small and unnoticeable it is. Interestingly, it lies all in anonymity, away from the rubble and commotion of the army camp.

I unlocked the door and went inside, and was welcomed by a creak of the hinges and a pair of cobwebs. I scampered towards the cupboard and opened it to discover a few clothes. I searched through the entire piece of furniture only to find it devoid of any written notes.

Maybe I was wronged by my intuition. Maybe my suspicion was incorrect. Maybe I was too muddle-headed to doubt you of all other women to be a spy from the enemy base.

And then I noticed a pair of drawers.

They did not have handles; or rather their handles were removed. They bore the same color as of the cupboard, which made it difficult to recognize them. I tried to open the bottom one with my free hands, but eventually had to use the key to hook its curvature in the inner side, and then pull the drawer out.

All I could see was a bunch of letters.

Since the bottom drawer was open, it was relatively easy to open the top one. And all I could find was more letters.

Maybe these were the letters which had to be sent to the Confederate army.

I opened one of the letters kept in the bottom drawer.

It was addressed to a nonentity named Daniel.

I gasped for breath.

Then something caught my eye –

“I have been writing to the Confederate officials for a while, but control now seems to be slipping away from me and my hands shake with sudden spasms of uncertainty.”

And then you described how you chanced upon a secretive conversation in the Union quarters.

For me, the sky fell crashing onto my shoulders.

Why did you do this to me?

I opened another letter kept in the same drawer.

It began – “Dear Daniel”.

I rose and settled myself on the cot beside me. I continued reading -

“Winter is nothing but a prelude to spring. The hard, bloodstained earth seems to give way to shoots of green, life instilled in them by the hope in your voice. I take your arm in my hands and the sour smell of wounds fades. The battle has receded into a backdrop which hardly suits the romance being played out on the stage…”

This was followed by a poem.

I was flabbergasted.

I fervently caught hold of another letter, this time from the top drawer.

“Dear Daniel

As I write to you, the clouds paint streaks of gray turmoil across the heavens and the nightingale hesitates in her song…”

All of a sudden, I fixed my gaze to something –

“Already I long to see you again. I wish to gaze into those eyes which remind me of voyages on turbulent green seas...”

And then there were many other snippets, from different letters –

“We all want the fight to end, Lieutenant Adams. Yet suffice it to say that the ends we desire are not the same…”

“I wait for your eyes to hold mine as you gently slide open the gates to your mind...”

“The enemy is like a tower stacked too high, and the Confederacy needs information to topple it. The Confederacy needs women who rise to their duty…”

“Keep me enveloped within your gaze, lest I slip…”

By this time, my eyes were red with tears. These were the tears of Second Lieutenant Daniel Adams, fighter of the Union army, whose motto is that toughness precedes family and emotions. But these tears were not of weakness. These tears were of the bittersweet realization that the simple lady whom I had fallen for is an enemy across borders, and that my love, after all, wasn’t just my own.

Why didn’t you tell me, Katherine? Why didn’t you?

But even I didn’t tell you. Even I didn’t have the courage to come forward and accept my infatuation. Both of us were muted by speech, yet had a lot to say from inside. Perhaps that’s why it was only our hearts who talked, and these talks of love didn’t reach our mouths. We knew that our words flowed from soul to soul, but what we did not know was that those words were not combinations of syllables; they were combinations of emotions – emotions that redefined relationships.

I shall be a blind less

Than watch my eyes dilate with affection;

I shall be a stone less

Than watch my body benumbed at your voice;

I shall be a slave less

Than watch myself enslaved by your thoughts;

I shall be a life less

Than watch my image carved in your letters.

And presently, the image of a Union soldier is carved in the letters of a Confederate spy. This is the image of the Union soldier who believes in service before self, fight before heal. This is the image of a partisan who shall always side with his duty, even if it requires sacrificing his love.

And today, his duty is to report a spy to the General…

I rose up slowly, very slowly, from the cot, and gradually made my way to the door with your letters in my hand. My legs were reluctant to let me out of your home, and I had to force them to move forward. I had to command them to move directly towards the camp site.

Love has its conditions, but so does loyalty. So it hurts me to the core when I tell you that I am in deep love, yet am compelled to shove it aside to fulfil my commitment. I may be condemned in the eyes of love, but if the turn of events force me to watch my love go against my duty, I am coerced to support the latter.

I know Katherine, that this may be hurtful. You may think I have stabbed you in the back. But it is my job to tell you this – my love and my objective are two different worlds. In the world of love, I see none but you. But when it comes to my objective, you are but a Confederate spy. And every Confederate spy is an enemy. Yet, you must not forget that for me, you are that same simple girl sitting beside me, holding my left arm with her soft, delicate hands.

If you have a heart as great as your love, forgive me and my stone heart for whatever I’ve done…

Yours, and yours forever

Daniel