“I can imagine,” Nathan said drily.

“Indeed. He called me a liar, a cheat, and a thief. After that we had a drink and I asked him why he was again serving that bitch Victoria. I could tell that this upset him as it had almost every other Irishman I'd talked to in the Confederate army. He told me he had sworn allegiance to his new nation, but not its friends. I then asked him how many allegiances a man of honor was supposed to give in a lifetime. Even though he's an Anglican, I suspect Cleburne's a closet Catholic, and he's always supported the cause of Ireland. So I asked him if he had put aside the cause of Ireland when he first swore allegiance to the queen as her soldier, and he said no. Then I reminded him that he'd become a citizen of the United States before becoming a citizen of the Confederacy.”

Nathan took a deep swallow and wiped the foam off his lips. “Your words must have charmed him.”

“I think he wanted to kill me. Cleburne's about your age, although a lot smaller. Frankly, a sort of mean, runty little bastard, just like me. He told me he had a home in Arkansas and a woman he wanted to marry. I asked him since when did he support slavery and he said he hated it, thought it was an abomination. I then asked him just why he wore Confederate gray when he was so much against what the South stood for and what it was doing.”

“And then what?”

“The insensitive turd threw me out.”

Nathan laughed. “I'm shocked.”

“But I did deliver the message and plant the seed. Mark me, Patrick Ronayne Cleburne is just one of a number of people going through an enormous crisis of conscience, and we in the Fenian movement are going to do everything we can to guide him back to us and the True Faith, the freedom of Ireland.”

Nathan was intrigued. “And for what purpose?”

“To lead a legion of Southern Irishmen who have abandoned the Confederacy.”

The audacity of such an enterprise astonished Nathan. “Do you possibly think it'll work?”

Flynn smiled and shrugged. “Nothing lost if it doesn't. But we are taking some steps to help General Cleburne see the light.”

When Nathan asked what those steps might be, Attila Flynn laughed and declined to answer. Yet the possibility of an Irish rebellion in the Southern ranks was delicious to share

CHAPTER TEN

GENERAL WINFIELD SCOTT sat on a small wooden stool that was perched precariously in the mud and watched as President Abraham Lincoln lifted the rifle to his shoulder and aimed downrange.

Lincoln fired, cocked the lever, and fired again. He repeated this a number of times until he was satisfied. There were powder stains and a slight burn on the side of his face, but his grin was wide.

“I don't think I was a threat to anything smaller than a barn_:” he said genially, “but a line of riflemen would have known that I was about from the noise if nothing else.”

With that, he handed the rifle to a young naval officer who took it away. They were at the rifle range located at the Navy Yard a short distance from the White House. Lincoln liked to go there and relax. Target shooting and fiddling with new weapons were equal sources of pleasure and this effort involved both.

“That was a Henry repeating rifle,” Lincoln said, “and a damned fine weapon. Breech-loading and a fifteen-shot magazine in the stock. After you fire, the lever pushes a new bullet in until they are all gone. I've suggested we order several thousand for the army, perhaps more. General Meigs says the problem is not in getting the rifles, but in making the ammunition in sufficient quantity. After all, I just fired in less than one minute what a rifleman with an ordinary rifle would shoot in about fifteen.”

Scott knew all this but remained silent. There had been a number of attempts to develop breech-loading and repeating rifles, and the Henry, developed and patented in 1860, was the one that showed the most promise to date. And the problem of ammunition was real. Northern munitions industries could not provide enough bullets if large numbers of Union soldiers were equipped with the rapid-firing weapons.

“General McClellan has resigned, you know,” Lincoln continued. “The Young Napoleon has taken his hurt pride and his political ambitions elsewhere, and I wish him well. He will be preaching for a negotiated end to the war and for him to be the president that does the negotiating. His departure leaves me with a large void in the position of commanding general. Whom do you recommend I appoint to fill it, General Scott?”

“In the absence of anyone more qualified, I recommend that you continue in the position yourself,” said Scott.

This had been a sore point with General McClellan, who had held both titles: commanding general of the Army of the Potomac, and commanding general of all the Union armies. During the descent into Virginia, Lincoln had thought it too much for one man, in particular since McClellan had to concentrate on what was happening in the field before him. Lincoln, therefore, had assumed overall control of the Union armies, which had mightily annoyed McClellan.

“You do not wish your command back, General?”

Scott shook his head vehemently, causing the flesh of his jowls to shake and the little stool to wiggle dangerously. “No, sir, I do not. As I have said repeatedly, I am indeed too old for the daily rigors of the position. I simply despised Secretary Cameron and his duplicitous way of replacing me. I am not a stupid man, sir. I had already begun to realize that the task was beyond me.'^:

“Cameron's departure is not lamented,” Lincoln said.

“Therefore, sir, if you are indeed offering the command to me and not merely being polite, I shall be like Caesar and decline.”

“And forever watch your back for McClellan appearing as Brutus,” Lincoln said with a smile. It was evident that he was relieved that Scott did not want his old command back.

Lincoln wiped some of the powder from his face with a handkerchief. “General Scott, there are those who feel I made a botch of it by not releasing McDowell's corps to reinforce McClellan in Virginia as he had requested.”

Scott shrugged. “But what could you have done? Sumner was retreating towards Washington with what he thought was a giant army on his tail; thus, you had to retain McDowell to defend the capital. Besides, aren't you convinced that McClellan would still have lost even with McDowell's men? After all, he never did send in Burnside's corps. I believe you could have sent Mac every soldier on earth and he still would have asked for more, and then still fallen back in fear that he was outnumbered.”

Lincoln nodded. “I do not have the skills for the detail work, General Scott, or the time. How can I be both president and commanding general?”

“Then bring in someone like Halleck from the west. He is a persnickety old man, petty, vain, and jealous, but he does understand the army. His men call him Old Brains, and, while it is not always a compliment, it is an accurate reflection of both his monumental intellect and ego. Just don't give in to his ideas unless you are totally convinced he is right.”

“Then why not make him commanding general in his own right?” Lincoln asked.

“Because although he is magnificent as a military theoretician and as an administrator, he fails as a field commander. He lacks courage and is timid and plodding. I'm afraid he would make McClellan look good. No, sir, it must be you controlling him, and most certainly not the other way around.”

Again Lincoln nodded. “And what will you do while I am commanding? I presume you would still like a part to play in these proceedings.”

“Sir, I would like to presume to advise you from time to time.”

Lincoln smiled. “And what would your advice be today?”

“Is it still your purpose to preserve the Union at all costs?”