"My view, General, is that you should be the one to deliver the ultimatum," Benjamin said now. "Coming from your lips, it will possess an aura of authority I could never give it. Were I to present it to Hay and Rosecrans, they would the more readily assume it to be negotiable."

"So they would," Jackson agreed. Benjamin's smile never wavered. Jackson did not think to wonder if he had insulted the Jew by assuming him to be flexible in all circumstances. Drawing out his pocket watch, he said, "The Yankees should be here in a few minutes."

Another young Confederate lieutenant escorted the U.S. representatives into the room. After polite greetings, John Hay said, "I should like to bring to your attention a new proposal President Blaine has authorized me to-"

"No," Jackson interrupted.

"I beg your pardon?" the U.S. minister to the Confederate States said.

"No," Jackson repeated. "The time for proposals from President Blaine has passed. He is in no position to offer them. He has, in fact, but one choice left: peace on our terms or war." He delivered Longstreet's ultimatum in tones as fierce as he could muster. Having done so, he noted down the time on a scrap of paper: twenty-seven minutes past ten in the morning.

Hay and Rosecrans both stared at him, the one with something like horror on his handsome face, the other in a sort of weary resignation. Rosecrans found his tongue first: "And what happens if President Blaine makes no reply, saying neither yes nor no?"

"That is a well he has drunk dry: it will be construed as rejecting the ultimatum," Jackson replied. "If we do not hear that he has accepted our terms within the space of forty-eight hours, now less"-he looked at the watch again-"two minutes, the war shall begin again, and where it shall end is known but to God."

"General, this is a brutal and most unreasonable way of forcing your will upon us," John Hay said.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Jackson agreed placidly. He said no more than that, leaving the U.S. minister to the Confederate States nothing on which he could hang a further protest.

Judah P. Benjamin spoke for the first time: "Gentlemen, I would suggest that, in view of the present circumstances, you might be well advised to communicate this ultimatum to President Blaine as soon as is practicable, to give him the greatest possible amount of time in which he can decide."

Under his breath, General Rosecrans muttered, " Blaine 's had months to decide. What the devil difference will two more days make?"

Jackson and Benjamin both started to speak at the same time. The Confederate minister to the USA caught Jackson 's eye. Benjamin's own eyes, dark and all but fathomless, glinted. Jackson inclined his head, allowing his clever companion to say whatever he intended. Turning another of his woundingly bland smiles on the U.S. representatives, Benjamin remarked, "I believe it was Samuel Johnson, gentlemen, who observed, 'When a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.' "

Hay winced. Rosecrans muttered again, this time unintelligibly. Gathering himself, Hay said, "I hope you will permit us an adjournment, then, to wire your demands to our president."

Now Judah Benjamin nodded to Jackson. "I not only permit it," the Confederate general-in-chief said, "1 require it."

Rosecrans' comments to himself sounded sulfurous, even if Jackson could not make them out in detail. With a sigh, Hay asked, "May we have a written copy of the ultimatum, to be sure it is communicated accurately to President Blaine?"

Jackson shook his head. "No, for I have not got one. The terms are of the simplest, however: either your government shall yield within forty-eight hours less… thirteen minutes now, or there will be renewed war."

"War a I'outrance" Benjamin added. Rosecrans, who plainly did not understand the French phrase, glared at him. Hay, who plainly did, also glared, in a different, more nearly desperate way. The two U.S. representatives rose, shook hands again with their Confederate counterparts, and took their leave.

"From now on, sir, these talks will be in your hands alone, I expect," Jackson said to Benjamin. "I shall shortly travel north to the Potomac, to take charge of operations against the United States in that region."

"In my opinion, General, you need not be overhasty," the minister to the United States replied.

"I dare not take the chance of your being mistaken," Jackson said.

"However you like." Benjamin habitually looked amused. At the moment, he looked more amused than usual. "Whether we do go to war or not, though, the president has effectively spiked Senator Hampton's guns, would you not agree?"

"You know about Senator Hampton?" Jackson blurted, and then felt extraordinarily foolish: whatever went on in the Confederate States without Judah P. Benjamin's knowledge could not be worth knowing.

Benjamin's laugh made his big belly shake. "Oh, yes, General, I know about Senator Hampton. A great many people know about Senator Hampton. That you did not until last night speaks well of your devotion to duty."

The Jew was indeed a statesman, Jackson thought; he had never been called blind more politely. In musing tones, he asked, "Could he have raised a revolution with my help?"

"With your help, General, anything would be possible," Judah Benjamin answered. "Without it, he is bound to fail." Benjamin hesitated, then went on, "Had President Longstreet reckoned your help likely to be forthcoming, the distinguished senator from South Carolina would have found himself unfortunately unable to call on you yesterday."

"Would he?" Jackson murmured. Benjamin gave him a solemn nod. He nodded back, unsurprised. After a moment's consideration, he nodded again, this time in firm decision. "Good."

Samuel Clemens woke with the bed shaking. He sat bolt upright, ready to run if it was an earthquake. By the way Alexandra smiled at him, it wasn't. He could barely see her smile; the sun hadn't risen yet. "What time is it?" he asked around a yawn.

"A little before five," his wife answered. "You wanted me to get you up early, though-remember? Philadelphia sun time is more than three hours ahead of us here."

Clemens grimaced and nodded. "Which means that, whatever Blaine aims to do, he'll do it too early in the morning." He got out of bed with a martyred sigh. "Light the lamp, will you, my dear?" Gas hissed. Alexandra struck a match. Yellow light filled the bedroom. Sam sighed again as he walked to the closet. "We're finally back in a home of our own-in a bed of our own, by God-and Blaine routs me out of it on a Saturday morning. There is no justice in the world-and no clean trousers, either, by the look of things."

"There are so," Alexandra declared. By then, Sam was getting into a pair of them. She gave him a dirty look.

He affected to ignore it, but from then on aimed his barbs at the administration rather than his wardrobe: "He shouldn't have started the war in the first place. Once he'd botched it, he should have quit when Longstreet gave him the chance. That would have saved San Francisco, and saved us the torture of living with your brother."

"You can't blame the president for that," Alexandra said.

"Who says I can't? I just did." Clemens warmed to his theme: "He dithered till he lost half of Maine, too. And now that the ultimatum's landed on him, he still can't make up his blasted mind. If he doesn't give in before half past seven or so, we're going to take another licking, and for what? For what, I ask you?"

His wife said, "Why don't you finish dressing? I'll go downstairs and make some coffee for you." It was not a responsive answer, but Sam doubted James G. Blaine could have given him a better one. And heaven only knows what sort of coffee Blaine makes, he thought, rummaging in a drawer for a cravat.