"Sir, if they realize who we are, it means they'll shift troops here," Stuart said.

Lee said nothing, but he knew Stuart was right and, dismounting, he moved down into a shallow ravine, walked up a few dozen paces, and uncased his field glasses.

Stuart and Hood were quickly by his side.

He scanned the fort It was a significant work, a dozen gun embrasures, what looked to be thirty-pounders, perhaps heavier. He caught glimpses of troops along the parapet, Union soldiers curious, looking over the earthen wall in his direction.

A dull thump echoed and he saw the sparks of a mortar shell lazily rising up, trailing smoke, fuse sputtering. It climbed, seemed to hover nearly overhead, then came plummeting down, striking a hundred yards behind him in a splash of mud, the fuse smothered and going out.

Hotchkiss knelt down by his side.

"Fort Stevens. It always has at least one battery of heavy guns, we're told thirty-pounders, rifled. Also a battery of eight-inch mortars as you can see. Garrisoned also with a regiment of infantry. You can't see them in this mist but the forts to either flank are within easy gunnery range, enfilading the approaches with at least one hundred-pound Parrott gun in each. Anyone attempting to cross this field will be hit by guns from at least three fortifications."

Lee nodded, stood up looking to the flanks, but the mist concealed the positions.

"The military road just behind the fortifications links all positions and is well maintained, macadamized in parts or corduroyed. They can easily shift significant reinforcements in and move them back and forth to counter any move. I would assume they are doing so now and will bring up additional troops from the center of the city."

Lee focused his field glasses back on Stevens, ignoring another mortar round as it struck fifty yards to the front, this one detonating with a flash just before striking the ground.

"Good gunners," Hood muttered, "cut the fuse right."

"Might I suggest we move," Jeb said, "they've bracketed you, sir."

That caught him. It wasn't "us," it was "you "

He nodded without comment, cased his field glasses, and walked into the hollow. Seconds later a third round whistled in, striking and detonating within yards of where they had been standing.

He looked over at Jeb and smiled.

"Excellent recommendation, General," Lee said.

"They've been firing away since last night, sir. They're garrison troops but well practiced, at least in gunnery." After mounting up they rode a few hundred yards farther on and, crossing the main road, the group reined in again. Lee raised his field glasses once more, scanning the fort, which was half-concealed in the fog.

Ramparts stood at least ten to fifteen feet high, a dry moat, most likely a muddy swamp now with all this rain, six lines of abatis, sharpened stakes ringing the position like a deadly necklace, earthworks running outward, connecting the position to the next fort to the east, a low blockhouse of logs and rough-hewn barriers blocking the road. It was formidable!

A rifle ball hummed dangerously close and then another. One of his escorts cursed and clutched his arm.

"They might have some sharpshooters over there armed with Whitworth rifles," Hotchkiss said. "Sir, I think we should pull back to safety."

Lee reluctantly agreed, and turning Traveler he regained the road and cantered back into the mists. A parting shot from one of the thirty-pounders shrieked overhead.

Near the stream where troopers still labored to build a bridge over the swollen creek, he stopped, Jeb pointing the way to a tarpaulin spread taut in a stand of chestnut trees, a table and chairs beneath.

Dismounting, the group gathered around the table. Hotchkiss reached into his oversized haversack and pulled out a map on rough sketch paper, folding it out on the table.

"I drew this up last night," Hotchkiss said, "after talking to some of Stuart's men and interviewing some locals who claim to be on our side.

"This is Fort Stevens, which you just saw," he said as he traced out the necklace of fortifications that were like beads on a chain embracing the city.

"Are there any weak points at all?" Lee asked.

Even as he spoke and looked at the map, the moment struck him as strange, tragic. This was once his home. He remembered a Washington without fortifications, lush meadows and fields surrounding the city, blistering in the summer but delightful in autumn and early spring.

Hotchkiss shook his head.

"They've covered every approach. Trees and brush cut back in places for nearly two miles to give clear fields of fire and deny concealment. The Virginia side is even worse."

Lee said nothing. He knew Arlington had been turned into a fortified camp. The approach to Alexandria, where the main military railroad yard was located, was an impossible position to storm.

"It has to be here," Lee said softly. "We must stay in Maryland; to cross back over the river and attempt it from the Virginia side is impossible, if for no other reason than the Potomac cannot be forded."

"It will be the same here or over toward Blandensburg or down along the river. The fortifications will be the same."

He looked over at Hood, who was silent, staring at the map.

"General Hood, do you think you can take that fort?" Hood looked up at him. "When, sir?" "By tomorrow."

There was a moment of silence.

"Sir, I'm strung out along twenty miles of road, my men are exhausted. Pettigrew is in the lead, I could have him up by late in the day, but it won't be until midday tomorrow that I can have all my divisions ready. If it should rain again today, sir, I can't even promise that. You saw the roads."

Lee had sympathy for Hood on this. He had indeed seen the roads, the thorough job that the Union forces had done destroying bridges and mill dams from here halfway back to Westminster.

He thought back to just before Gettysburg, the sense of hesitation in his army in spite of their high spirits, the sense that he was not fully in control. Was that setting in again now that the euphoria of victory was wearing thin because of exhaustion and the unrelenting rains? Am I pushing too hard now, should I wait?

He stood gazing at the map of the fortifications.

This is the only chance we will ever have, he realized. We must take it now. I must push the army yet again.

"It has to be here," Lee said. 'To try and maneuver now would be fruitless. They have the interior lines and maintained roads; wherever we shift, they will be in front of us. That and every hour of delay will play to their advantage."

He looked over at Stuart, who nodded.

"We've had half a dozen civilians get through the lines during the night," Stuart announced. "Reinforcements are starting to arrive in Washington from as far away as Charleston. Their newspapers are reporting that as well. The garrison is most likely at twenty-five thousand now; before the week is out, it could be forty thousand or more."

"Then we have to do it now," Lee replied, "Every hour of delay only strengthens them."

"I can't hope to have any artillery support for at least two days," Hood said, his voice pitched low. "They're stuck in the mud from here clear back to Westminster."

"General Hood, the artillery we have will do little if anything against those fortifications."

"So we are to go in without artillery support, sir?"

"Yes, General, without artillery."

"Sir. Respectfully, sir, you know I'm not one to shy away from a fight," and he fell silent, head half-lowered.

Lee looked at him. I need dissent, I need to listen. It was listening to Longstreet, the first night at Gettysburg, that had set victory in motion.

"Go on, General Hood, please speak freely, sir."

"Thank you, General. Sir, I have a bad feeling about this one.