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resign, he will sack you, Lieutenant General. And he will do worse than that.
'Lieutenant General Bell, give me back my army!' he cried when word of your
sad, piteous overthrow before Ramblerton reached him. If he sacks you, you
will go before a court-martial, one with membership of his choosing. Perhaps
you will only see the inside of a prison. Perhaps, on the other hand, you will
see a cross."
"A . . . cross?" Bell said hoarsely. "He would do that to me, for fighting a
campaign the best way I knew how? By the Thunderer's strong right hand, where
is the justice in this world?"
"A cross not for the fight, I would say." General Peegeetee judiciously pursed
his lips as he paused to find just the right words. "A cross for throwing away
Geoffrey's last hope east of the mountains his last hope, really, of ruling a
kingdom that amounts to anything."
A tiny flicker of disdain, gone from his face almost but not quite before Bell
was sure he saw it, said
Peegeetee shared King Geoffrey's opinion of Bell and of what he had and
hadn't done. That scorn hurt him worse than either his missing leg or his
ruined arm. "Excuse me," he said thickly, and fumbled for his little bottle of
laudanum. He gulped, careless of the dose. Poppies and fire chased each other
down his throat.
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"I regret the necessity of bringing you such unfortunate news when your wounds
trouble you so,"
Peegeetee murmured.
Bell doubted he regretted it. If he had to guess, he would have said Peegeetee
derived a sneaking pleasure from his pain. And, for once, the wounds weren't
what troubled the general commanding no, the general formerly commanding the
Army of Franklin. Could laudanum also dull torment of the spirit? If it
couldn't, nothing could. That possibility sent a cold wind of terror howling
through Bell's soul.
"Have you now reconsidered your reconsideration?" the marquis inquired.
"I have," Bell replied in a voice heavy as lead. "But, your Grace, no matter
what you say, I aim to go to
Nonesuch to put my case before his Majesty."
"I would not dream of standing in your way," Peegeetee said. "I do offer two
bits of advice, however, for whatever you may think they are worth. First, do
not get your hopes up. King Geoffrey has always been touchy, and he is all the
touchier now that the war is going . . . less well than he would have liked."
"And whose fault is that?" Bell said, meaning it was Geoffrey's.
But General Peegeetee answered, "In his opinion, yours. I also note that
Nonesuch is not the place you think it to be."
"I am familiar with Nonesuch," Bell said. "It is less than a year and a half
ago that I last passed through it. Surely it cannot have changed much in so
short a time."
"It can. It has," General Peegeetee told him. "With Marshal Bart's army
clinging to the siege of
Pierreville as a bulldog clings to a thief's leg, the shadow of the gibbet and
the cross falls ever darker on the city. It is not without its gaiety even
yet, but that gaiety has a desperate edge."
"I care nothing for gaiety," Bell snapped. "I care only for victory, and for
vindication."
"Both of which, I fear, are in moderately short supply in Nonesuch these
days." Peegeetee shrugged.
"This is not my concern, however. I, like you, wish it were otherwise. And
please believe me when I tell you I wish you good fortune in your quest. As I
say, though, do please also be realistic in your expectations."
Bell had never been realistic, either in the field or in his maneuverings with
and against other officers serving King Geoffrey. His headlong fighting style
had made him a hero. It had also left him a twice-
mutilated man. He had risen to command the Army of Franklin and, in commanding
it, had destroyed it. When he told Marquis Peegeetee, "I shall, of course,
take your advice, most seriously," he meant, I
shall, of course, pay no attention whatsoever to you
.
With another bow in the saddle, Peegeetee replied, "I am most glad to hear
it," by which he meant, I
don't believe a word of it
.
"Which men will be sent to Palmetto Province?" Bell asked. By putting it that
way, he didn't have to mention, or even have to think of, Count Joseph the
Gamecock. The less he thought of Joseph, the better he liked it. That Joseph
might not care to think of him, either, had never once entered his mind.
Marquis Peegeetee pulled a sheet of paper from the breast pocket of his
gold-buttoned blue tunic. "You are ordered to send the wing commanded by
Colonel Florizel . . ." He paused and raised an eyebrow. "A
wing, commanded by a colonel?"
"Senior surviving officer," Bell said. "When we fight, your Grace, we fight
hard
."
"Fighting well would be even better," Peegeetee murmured, and Bell glared
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furiously. Ignoring him, the
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- Chapter 10
nobleman continued, "You are also ordered to detach half the brigades from the
wing commanded by
Brigadier Benjamin, called the Heated Ham how picturesque. The said brigadier
is to accompany the attached brigades. Have you any questions?"
"No, sir, but do please note you are taking half the army's strength," Bell
said.
"Not I, Lieutenant General. I am but delivering his Majesty's orders. And the
Army of Franklin the former Army of Franklin, I should say is from this moment
on no longer your official concern."
"I understand that . . . your Grace." Bell held his temper with no small
effort. "Even so, its fate, and the fate of the kingdom, still interest me
mightily, as they should interest any man with a drop of patriotic blood in
his veins. I have, you know, spent more than a drop of my blood on King
Geoffrey's behalf."
He glanced down toward the stump of his right leg.
Peegeetee's gaze followed his own but only for a moment. Then the marquis
looked away, an expression of distaste crossing his narrow, clever features.
Still not meeting Bell's gaze, he muttered, "No one has ever faulted your
courage." He gathered himself. "But would you not agree it is now time to let
other men shed their blood for the land we all hold dear?"
"I am still ready still more than ready to fight, sir," Bell said.
"That, I regret to repeat, you must take up with his Majesty in Nonesuch,"
General Peegeetee replied.
Bell nodded. To Nonesuch he would go. He had scant hope, but he would go. His
good hand folded into a fist. By all he could see, Geoffrey's kingdom had
scant hope, either. Righteously, Bell thought, I did all
I
could
.
* * *
"Come on," Captain Gremio called to his regiment. "Get aboard the glideway
carpets. Fill 'em up good and tight, too. We don't have as many as we need."
Beside him, Sergeant Thisbe murmured, "When have we ever had as much of
anything as we need?
Men? Food? Clothes? Siege engines? Glideway carpets?"
That was so obviously unanswerable, Gremio didn't even try. He said, "What I'm
wondering is, how the hells are we going to get to Palmetto Province? We ought
to go through Marthasville just about all the glideways from the coast out
here to the east pass through Marthasville. But the southrons have held the
place since last summer."
He felt foolish as soon as he'd spoken. Thisbe knew that as well as he did.
The Army of Franklin the army now breaking up like rotting ice had done all it
could to keep Hesmucet and the southrons out of
Marthasville. All it could do hadn't been enough. Gremio didn't think the
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