As he came up out of the streambed he saw a low church steeple, a small village of a few dozen homes, the windows of some showing limp Confederate flags, others shuttered and closed. Longstreet's headquarters flag fluttered out in a gentle breeze near the church, an awning set up in front of it, with staff gathering around.

Uniforms showed gold braid. He saw Stuart still astride his horse, leaning over, talking with Beauregard. Hood, sitting on a chair under the awning, head back, was obviously asleep. Seeing him coming up, men began to stir, staff moving about, setting chairs around a table.

A corporal offered to take Traveler's reins, and Lee with a sigh dismounted. On stiff legs he walked toward the gathering, returning the salutes of those waiting for him.

Someone nudged Hood, who looked around sleepily and then stood up. Stuart dismounted, taking off his plumed hat as he stepped under the awning.

These were his old warriors and Providence had been kind in this fight, sparing all of them yet again. Not a division commander had been lost in this last fight, thank God, though Pickett had lost three of his five brigade commanders and the others were wounded. He caught a glimpse of Pickett standing nervously to one side, the man breaking eye contact when Lee looked at him for a moment.

Under the awning Longstreet pointed to a chair at the head of the table. Lee settled down, a servant bringing to him what appeared to be a miracle, lemonade that was actually iced, and he gladly took it, draining half the glass. Benjamin sat down by his right side, Taylor moved in behind Lee, while his cavalry escort dismounted, the men then walking their mounts back down to the stream to water them.

The corps commanders gathered around the table and sat down, division commanders stood behind them.

"General Stuart," Lee began, "what is the latest news?"

"Well, sir, we lost our outpost and telegraphy connection at Carlisle."

"When?"

"Shortly after six this morning, sir. Yankee cavalry hit them hard. Our men were forced to retreat and we lost all connection."

"And what other word is there?"

"Sir, all our telegraph connections that can report quickly on Harrisburg are down. The outposts we still have are at Shippensburg, Hanover Junction, Frederick, and Gettysburg."

As he spoke he pointed out the positions on the map.

"We had a report at midmorning that the Yankees were also crossing by ferry at Wrightsville, cavalry," he paused, "and infantry. It is also reported they are starting to build a pontoon bridge as well at that location. We then lost our outpost at York about two hours ago."

"Grant's first move," Longstreet interjected, "is to cut our telegraph outposts, blind us."

"We'd have done the same," Lee replied noncommittally. He had hoped they could have held contact for most of the day. The use of telegraphs for such reports was something new for the Army of Northern Virginia, but given the vast front they now operated on, literally all of eastern Maryland and south central Pennsylvania, he had hoped to keep these precious lines up awhile longer.

"So any information we have now, sir," Stuart continued, "is nearly as old as our first reports, couriers have to carry them back to our remaining posts."

"And those reports?"

"The same, sir. Grant pushed the bridge across during the night at Harrisburg, and they started moving before dawn.

Railroad equipment was sighted as well. Moved by train up to the bridge north of Harrisburg, across the river, and down the right bank. Apparently they are already laying track and replacing bridges we'd torn up." "Units?"

"Definitely corps strength or more. McPherson's Corps was in the lead. The report I just mentioned from York indicated infantry in corps strength preparing to cross at Wrightsville. That's it, so far."

"He'd lead with McPherson," Hood said softly. "We all know he is a good man."

Lee nodded in agreement.

"And that is it?" Lee asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but that is all I can report now."

"It is not your fault, General Stuart," Lee replied, holding his hand up.

He did not add that now, more than ever, he regretted the audacity of the raid attempted a week ago by Wade Hampton. He had felt some reluctance to adopt Stuart's bold plan, to launch Hampton on a raid up toward Reading to gather intelligence on Grant, sow panic, disrupt rail transportation, and perhaps even skirt the edge of Philadelphia.

Grant's cavalry, backed by infantry, had relentlessly hunted Wade down, killed him, and wiped out his entire brigade. Those men would have been invaluable now for shadowing Grant. The only forces deployed to shadow Grant were two regiments detached from his nephew Fitz Lee's Brigade. That was nowhere near enough to harass Grant, to slow him, and at this moment, far more importantly, to gain knowledge of his intentions.

Lee studied the map for a moment, finishing his iced lemonade.

What would I do? He wondered. I will not put myself in Grant's shoes, not yet. I'll do so when I know the man better. Don't assume he will do what I would do.

He leaned back from the table and motioned for another glass.

"Comments?"

"He'll come straight at us," "Pete" Longstreet said. "He's just securing his right flank at Carlisle. The main push will come from York to Hanover Junction, then to Baltimore using the Northern Central Railroad for supplies. He'll use the rail line for supplies and come straight down those tracks toward Baltimore."

Pete fell silent for a moment. Lee nodded for his old war-horse to continue.

"If he started this last night, I think he was hoping that we would still be tangled up along the Susquehanna, mopping up Sickles. Our men exhausted, worn down. He then pivots."

As Longstreet spoke he brushed his hand across the map to indicate the move.

"Pins us north of Baltimore."

"Precisely why I ordered this forced march back to Baltimore today," Lee replied.

He nodded toward the road down which the endless column flowed by, the men slowing in their passage at the sight of Lee and his lieutenants under the awning not fifty yards away. Guards along the road could be heard chanting over and over, "Keep moving, boys. Yes, it's General Lee. Don't disturb them. Keep moving, boys…"

"If he does that," Lee said, "we've slipped the noose and Grant will just reoccupy the ground Sickles tried to take. Let him have it, then we are inside Baltimore, behind fortifications, and he can attack us till doomsday."

"I've learned to have a healthy respect for this man," Beauregard said softly, the lilt of his Louisiana accent soft and pleasant.

"Go on, sir," Lee replied.

"I'd be nervous about getting ourselves pinned inside of Baltimore. Look at the way he maneuvered between Forts Henry and Donelson, the way he encircled Vicksburg from the rear. If we stay in Baltimore, he might very well envelope us, circle around, and reconnect to his supplies through Washington. Do that, and he frees up the garrison of Washington to act as an offensive force, too. Sir, I'd be cautious about that move. We don't want Grant to gain control of the forty thousand men still pinned down there."

"Good advice, General Beauregard, but if that threat should arise, it will be five days, perhaps a week from now. But would you concur with General Longstreet that he will turn at Carlisle and come straight at us?"

Beauregard lowered his gaze, staring intently at the map for a moment.

"Honestly, sir, I don't know. I do not know this terrain, the land, the roads the way you men do.

Hood cleared his threat and Lee turned to face the commander of his Second Corps.

"Go on, General Hood. Your thoughts."

"I'd agree with General Longstreet," Hood replied, "except for one thing."

"And that is?"