Send a countermand to Lincoln, suggesting a change? It'd take at least a day for that to catch up. It would show, as well, a loss of nerve.

No, we have to take the pass first and hold it.

"Keep them moving, Phil, and then report to me in Frederick by the end of the day."

Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia Baltimore, Maryland

7:10 A.M.

General Lee, there's action at Frederick." Walter had allowed him to sleep hours past his usual time of rising. For that Lee was grateful, having been up half the night with Longstreet and Judah Benjamin analyzing the reports that increasingly confirmed that the so-called army coming down from the north was a sham, and that Grant was pulling a wide flanking march, either to cross the Potomac into Virginia or come out of the mountains at Frederick or Point of Rocks down on the Potomac.

Lee was already half-dressed, a servant helping him with his boots, when Taylor knocked on the door. He reached up, taking the dispatch Taylor was holding.

He scanned the message from the outpost at Frederick and put it down on his bed.

"Has General Stuart arrived there yet? What about the pontoon train?"

"Sir, a report came in about four this morning that the trains carrying the pontoon bridge were sabotaged. Wheels on the cars were not greased prior to leaving the depot and several caught on fire twenty miles east of Frederick. General Stuart got off the train and went on by horseback." 'This is disturbing," Lee said softly. "I thought we would have that position secured by now."

"Stuart's last report, sent by telegraph from about ten miles east of Frederick, a place called New Market, said he was riding up fast, the brigades of Jenkins and Jones were moving to secure the junction and hoped to secure the railroad bridge and the National Road bridge upon his arrival. He has two brigades of cavalry, compared to Custer's one light brigade."

"What trains are readily available down at the depot?"

"We have a convoy of fifteen trains forming up now, sir. Scales's Division is loading up even now. General Longstreet rousted his corps out three hours ago, and they are already marching west."

"But that will take two days for them to arrive."

"Yes, sir. But we are forming a second convoy of twenty trains to move by midmorning with Johnson's boys loading up."

"Good, Stonewall Division, excellent," Lee whispered.

He stood up, leaning over the map. It was becoming clear now. Grant meant to move over the mountains into the central Maryland plains at Frederick.

Lee smiled slightly as he contemplated that. Grant will only have one road to do his maneuver, while I'll have the railroad, the main pike of the National Road, and numerous secondary roads.

We get into position ahead of him, it will be the classic position for destroying an opponent, with him feeding troops in piecemeal while we are already in place… if we can get there first.

"Walter, get down to the rail yard. I want a train ready to take me up as soon as possible. Pass word to Generals Longstreet and Beauregard to keep their men moving west. The railroad will move up Hood's Corps and our artillery, then once that is done will start shuttling back to pick up the infantry."

"Sir, I'm concerned about this sabotage problem. It stopped our pontoon trains cold this morning. A few more acts like that could paralyze our movements."

"Tell that man Longstreet appointed…"

"Cruickshank," Walter prompted.

"Tell him to make sure every car, every engine, is inspected before departure. If there is a Yankee spy or agents working in that rail yard, men not in uniform, they are to be dealt with swiftly and harshly as spies and saboteurs."

He hated to say that, it went against his nature, but at this moment half a dozen provocateurs could wreck the entire movement of his army.

Walter saluted and left the room.

Putting on his jacket, Lee gazed once more at the map. So it was beginning. He'd have liked to have had two or three more days to rest and refit his men, but the Lord had willed differently. So perhaps this was now the moment after all. One more swift victory, to drive Grant back, and surely Lincoln would be forced to negotiate or collapse.

Monocacy Junction

7:30 A.M.

George Armstrong Custer crawled up on to the roof of the depot, standing up, using one of the two chimneys as a brace. Balanced precariously, he took out his field glasses and scanned the opposite bank.

A column of rebel troopers were coming up along the track that clung to the side of a hill on the other side. Men were dismounting, pulling out carbines, horses then being led back. He saw guidons of at least two regiments, hard to tell which.

He braced himself, leaning field glasses on top of the chimney. A bullet zipped by, another smacked the chimney in front of him.

There! He caught a glimpse of him and smiled. It was Jeb, Jeb Stuart over there, plumed hat, gold braid, a group of men standing about his horse as he pointed, the men saluting and running off.

So I've got Jeb on me. How many men? A brigade? No, not Jeb. He'd come on with everything he had, two brigades, maybe three, but it will take time for tliat column to come up the rail tract He turned to look north. He couldn't see the stone bridge of the National Road, but the morning was still, the last wisps of fog burning off the stream, and it was impossible to miss the plumes of dust to the north. More rebels coming that way?

Infantry? No, he doubted that. They had obviously caught the rebs by surprise here. It would be cavalry first.

Another bullet slapped a shingle by his foot, bits of wood flying up.

He looked back to the rail bridge. Reb skirmishers were on the other side, puffs of smoke. His study of the bridge confirmed his first impression. It was a temporary affair, made of wood that had been soaked with pitch and tar, smeared with grease and oil from passing trains. If not for the rebs on the other side, he'd have it aflame within an hour, but old Jeb, of course, made that all but impossible.

Another puff of smoke, another bullet zipping dangerously close.

The rebs on the far side of the bridge were hunkered down behind support beams, a few sprawled on their stomachs on the tracks, others down in brush along the stream embankment. The volume of fire was beginning to pick up as the first of their reinforcements sprinted along the track, spreading out, finding cover. For an instant he thought he could catch a glimpse of Phil, waving his arm, standing up, pointing out a position, then quickly ducking down as a volley rang out from his own side.

He looked to his left, at the covered bridge for the toll road. On the far side reb skirmishers were already deploying. The bridge was double-wide. A column would take casualties but could indeed storm it if he didn't act quickly.

Taking a deep breath, he slid down the roof, leapt to the awning, and ducked through a window, bullets pocking the wall around him.

"Sir, I think that was rather bold of you," a sergeant quipped, looking up at Custer as he landed in the room, "and frankly, sir, damn stupid."

Custer gazed at him for a second then broke into a grin.

A bullet slammed through the room, passing clean through the plank siding and plaster interior.

Cursing, the sergeant knelt, aimed through the window where Custer had just entered, and fired back.

Custer looked around the room. A dead reb lay in the comer, two more of them, wounded, sitting by the body. The face of one of the rebs was a smear of blood, eyes swollen shut.

He ran down the stairs and out behind the depot. Men of the Fifth Michigan were swarming across the spur line, dropping behind stacks of railroad ties, woodpiles, anything that could offer protection.