Beauregard raised his gloved hand. “Excuse me, sir, it was not my intent to draw you out. I just wanted reassurance that you knew of that invasion, so you would understand better what I have to tell you. I wish to bring you intelligence of a second invasion.”

Sherman tried not to reveal his distress at this news. Another invasion would make the defense of the country just that more difficult. But he knew of no other invading forces and did not want to reveal his ignorance. “Please go on, General.”

Beauregard was no longer the calm and gently mannered Southern officer. His fists clenched and he had to squeeze the words out through hard-clamped teeth.

“Invasion and murder and worse, that is what has happened. And confusion. There were reports from Biloxi, Mississippi, that a Union fleet was bombarding the shore defenses there. Whatever troops that could be gathered were rushed there to stop the invasion. It was a night of rain and battle with neither side giving way. In the end we lost — and not to the North!”

Sherman shook his head, confused. “I am afraid that I do not understand.”

“It was them, the British. Yesterday they landed troops to attack the defenses of the port of Biloxi. They were not identified until morning, when their flags and uniforms were seen. By that time the battle was over. And they were not simply satisfied with destroying the military. They attacked the people in the town as well, reduced it, burnt half of it. What they did with the women… The latest reports tell me that they are now advancing inland from Biloxi.”

Sherman was shocked speechless, just managed to murmur under his breath. Beauregard was scarcely aware of his presence as he stared into the distance, seeing the destruction of the Southern city.

“They are not soldiers, but are murderers and rapists. They must be stopped, annihilated — and my troops are the only ones in a position to do that. I believe you to be a man of honor, General. So I can tell you that I have been ordered to place my soldiers between these invaders and the people of Mississippi. That is why I requested this meeting.”

“Just what is it that you want, General?”

Beauregard looked grimly at his fellow officer, whom he had so recently engaged in deadly conflict. He thought carefully before he spoke.

“General Sherman, I know that you are a man of his word. Before this war you founded and led one of our great Southern military institutions. You have spent much time in the South and you must have many friends here. You could not have done this if you had been one of those wild-eyed abolitionists. I mean no insult, sir, to what I know to be your sincere beliefs. What I mean is that I can speak to you frankly — and know that you will understand how serious matters are. You will also know that in no way will I be able to lie to you, nor will you take advantage of anything that I might say.”

Beauregard drew himself up and when he spoke there was a grim fury behind his drawling words.

“I am asking you simply — if you will consider arranging an armistice with me at this time. I wish only to defend the people of this state and do promise not to undertake any military incursions against the Federal Army. In turn I request that you not attack my weakened positions here. I ask this because I go to attack our mutual enemy. If you agree you can draw up whatever terms you wish and I will sign them. As a brother officer in arms I respectfully ask you for your aid.”

This meeting, the invading British, the request were so unusual that Sherman really was at a loss for words. But he felt a growing elation at the same time. The armistice would be easy enough to arrange, in fact he would take a great deal of pleasure in doing so. His mission was to hold the ground he now occupied. He would far rather do that by joining a ceasefire than by bloody battle.

But even more important than that was the phrase that General Beauregard had used.

Mutual enemy, that is what he had said — and he had meant it. The very glimmer of a completely preposterous idea nibbled at the edges of his thoughts as he spoke.

“I understand your feelings. I would do the very same thing were I in your shoes. But of course I cannot agree to this without consulting General Halleck, my commanding officer,” he finally said.

“Of course.”

“But having said that, let me add that I have only compassion and understanding of your position. Grant me one hour and I will meet you here again. I must first explain what has happened, and what you propose. I assure you that I will lend my weight to the strengths of your arguments.”

“Thank you, General Sherman,” Beauregard said with some warmth as he saluted.

Sherman returned the salute, wheeled his horse about and galloped away. Colonel Appier himself seized the horse’s reins when Sherman dismounted.

“General — what’s it all about? What’s happening?”

Sherman blinked at him, scarcely aware of his presence. “Yes, Appier. This is a matter of singularly great importance or the general would not have come forward as he has done. I must make a report. As soon as that is done I will speak with you and the other senior officers. Please ask them to join me in my tent in thirty minutes.”

He went back down the slope to the encampment. But, despite what he had said, he made no attempt to go to the telegraph tent. Instead he went directly to his own tent. He spoke to the sentry on guard there.

“I am not to be disturbed until my officers assemble here. Tell them that they must wait outside. No one to be admitted to see me. No one at all — do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

He dropped into his camp chair and stared unseeingly into the distance, his fingers combing distractedly through his thin beard. There was an opportunity here, one that must be seized and grasped tightly before it escaped. Despite what he had said he had no intention of contacting Halleck, not yet. He needed time to think this through without any distractions. The course of action that he was considering was too personal, too irrational for others to understand.

Of course it was obvious just what he should do. It was his military duty to telegraph at once, to explain what had happened in Biloxi and to ask for orders. Surely when the generals and the politicians understood what the British had done, why then they would certainly agree to the armistice. A common enemy. Better having the Southern army fighting the British rather than threatening attack on the North.

But how long would it take the politicians to make their minds up?

Too long, he knew that. No one would want to take responsibility for the drastic action that Beauregard was asking for. Commanders would dither, then pass the decision on up the line. Dispatches would be telegraphed until, probably, the whole thing would end up in Abe Lincoln’s lap.

And just how long would that take? Hours at least, probably longer. And the decision must be made now. Hard as it was he must take the responsibility himself. Even at the risk of losing his career, he must decide. If this opportunity were missed it would never occur again. He must decide for himself and act on that decision.

And he knew what that decision must be. He went over every possibility, and still returned to the single course of action.

When his officers had gathered he told them what he was going to do. He measured his words carefully.

“Gentlemen, like the North, the South has now been invaded by a British Army.” He paused until this fact had sunk in, then went on. “I have just talked with General Beauregard who asked for a cease-fire to permit him to take his troops south to do battle with the enemy. He called the invaders ‘our mutual enemy’ and that is true. A cease-fire would certainly be very much in order at this time. It is certainly to our benefit as well.”