Judah shook his head.

"Samuel, you have been my friend for fifteen years, but you must know that there are lines drawn by my office, and I will not discuss that here."

"And my suggestion?"

"The realist in me knows that our president, our Congress, and those in power will not yet agree to such a measure."

"As I feared," Samuel said wearily.

Lee stirred, sliding his chair back. He had listened to the debate with interest, and he knew it would trouble his thoughts, but the more immediate concerns of command called, and the hour was late. His gesture was a signal to both.

Samuel stood up and bowed graciously to Lee.

"I hope, sir, that two old friends talking politics have not dulled the pleasure of this evening."

"On the contrary, sir, you have been a wonderful host."

Samuel guided them to the door, on the way pointing out several small items of his collection: documents signed by Napoleon, Wellington, a framed locket of Napoleon's hair.

"I will pray for both of you," Samuel said. "Know that my heart is with you."

Samuel opened the door and the three stepped out. The guard detachment, who had obviously been enjoying themselves, surrounded by admiring citizens and more than one attractive young lady, quickly snapped to attention. The captain of the guard called for orderlies to bring Judah and Lee's horses.

The two mounted, bid their farewells to Samuel, and rode off, the detachment surrounding them.

"Gentlemen, just a little room please," Lee asked. "The secretary and I need to talk for a moment."

The captain of his guard detail looked over at Lee with concern. The street was dark, there was no telling what danger lurked in side alleyways, but Lee's forceful gaze won the argument and the detachment spread out. Lee brought Traveler over closer to Judah's side.

"Any thoughts, General Lee?"

"Sir, respectfully, but I must ask, was part of that conversation staged for my benefit?"

"What do you mean, General Lee?" Judah asked innocently.

"Sir, you are noted for your subtle abilities."

Judah laughed softly.

"I am not sure if I am being complimented or insulted."

"A compliment, Mr. Secretary. But the question I raised earlier, about the president not attending, and now my question for the reason I was invited at all."

"I wanted you to meet Samuel. He is a sharp wit In less troubling times, I know the two of you would have enjoyed talking history."

"But we are in troubled times, sir. I wonder how much you knew about the direction tonight's conversation would take."

"Oh, I assumed it would go in the path it took. I've had several letters from my old friend come through the lines since the war started."

"Then why was I there?" Lee asked, and there was a slight touch of anger in his voice. "You placed me in an uncomfortable position. I will admit I was quite taken by our host and his family. I would love to sit with him again, but to talk of other things. I am a field commander who must answer to my government. It is not my position, sir, to discuss the policies of our government."

Judah held up an apologetic hand.

"Do not chastise me too harshly, General Lee."

"I am not chastising you, sir. Merely making a point, a tradition that any general must maintain."

"General Lee, some words from my heart."

"Go on, sir."

"You have become the soul of our cause."

Now it was Lee's turn to hold up his hand, shaking his head as if not wanting to hear what would be said, for the words, as always, were a burden he did not want.

"Hear me out, please. You are the soul of our cause. Every Southern household hangs on your exploits. Where we face defeats on so many other fronts, you bring victory. You have built perhaps the finest army in history and led it to victories unimagined. The survival of our cause now rests with you. Not with the president nor our Congress, nor my own feeble attempts at foreign policy. It rests with you."

"It rests with the men of the army, sir. Always it rests with them," Lee said forcefully. "It is their blood that will buy us liberty."

"I know," Judah said sadly. "But the blood of how many men? We know it cannot go on much longer. We have only so much of that blood to give. There isn't a home in the South that has not paid for this damnable war. And we are running out of that blood.

"Samuel was right. Even as we bleed, and prepare to bleed again, Lincoln holds fast. I fear sir, he has indeed seized the moral high ground from us. He has shifted the reasons for this war far beyond what many of us believe started it. Samuel proposes a way to put an end to it, and, perhaps, as well to end the division of the races in our homeland. I would like to think that if the black man were given his chance, in defense of the South, it would change forever how we see each other. Perhaps it would give us a chance to rebuild a nation together. And in so doing, give to you two, maybe three, more corps of men for the battles yet to be fought."

"It is not my decision, sir," Lee replied sharply, a touch of anger in his voice. "It is the president's and yours, not mine."

"I know, General Lee. But I must say this. Perhaps, someday, the burden will be yours. That is why I asked you to join us tonight to hear what someone who is astute has to say, and also what I have dwelled upon since this conflict started."

"Sir? You have felt this all along?" "Just that, General Lee, but I think I've said enough for one night"

The two rode on in silence, disappearing into the night.

Chapter Fourteen

Harrisburg, Pennsylvania Headquarters Army of the Susquehanna

August 3,1863 10:30 A.M

Grant looked around at the gathering in his oversized command tent. A photographer from Brady's had just finished-taking several images of them outside, and now from a distance was doing a fourth and final shot of them gathered in the open-sided tent. The group remained still until it was done and the photographer ran off to his black wagon to develop the plate as an assistant picked up the heavy camera and lugged it away.

The day was warm, another heat wave setting in, and his officers were grateful to get their jackets off, sitting about the long oak table in shirtsleeves and vests.

Maj. Gen. Edward Ord, who had arrived only yesterday with the last of the men from his Thirteenth Corps, was relaxed, sipping from a tall glass of iced lemonade. Beside him was McPherson, commander of the Fifteenth Corps, the first unit from the West to arrive in Harrisburg. Burnside, who had reassumed command of his old Ninth Corps, which had served in part of the Vicksburg campaign, sat quietly to one comer. He had arrived ahead of his two small divisions, which were still crossing Indiana and Ohio. Couch, commander of the twenty thousand militia and short-term regiments that had gathered in Harrisburg at the start of the Gettysburg campaign, was fanning himself with an oversized, wide-brimmed hat Several divisional commanders and the usual staff were gathered as well, while in the far comer sat Ely Parker, Grant's adjutant, taking notes. Beside him sat Elihu Washburne, who had arrived from Washington only within the last hour.

"It's time we started laying out our plans," Grant announced, "and I want to know our state of readiness."

"My men are ready any time you give the word, sir," McPherson said confidently. "But it is a question of supplies, remounts, support equipment."

The other generals nodded in agreement.

Grant looked over at Haupt. The general was actually dozing and Ord, smiling, nudged him awake.

"Sorry, sir."

Grant smiled indulgently. Haupt was working himself into a state of collapse. He had lost weight, his features pale, the dysentery draining him of all energy.