WEDNESDAY, JULY 1, 1863 The First Day

1. LEE.

He came out of the tent into a fine cold rain. The troops were already up and moving out on the misty road beyond the trees. Some of them saw the white head and came to the fence to stare at him. The ground rocked. Lee floated, clutched the tent. Got up too quickly. Must move slowly, with care. Bryan came out of the mist, bearing steaming coffee in a metal cup. Lee took it in pained hands, drank, felt the heat soak down through him like hot liquid sunshine. The dizziness passed. There was fog flat and low in the treetops, like a soft roof. The rain was clean on his face. He walked slowly to the rail where the horses were tethered: gentle Traveler, skittish Lucy Long. Stuart had not come back in the night. If Stuart had come they would have wakened him. He said good morning to the beautiful gray horse, the great soft eyes, said a silent prayer. He thought: tonight we’ll all be together.

Troops were gathering along the rail fence, looking in at him. He heard a man cry a raucous greeting. Another man shushed him in anger. Lee turned, bowed slightly, waved a stiff arm. There was a cluster of sloppy salutes, broad wet grins under dripping hats. A bareheaded boy stood in reverent silence, black hat clutched to his breast. An officer moved down the fence, hustling the men away.

Lee took a deep breath, testing his chest: a windblown vacancy, a breathless pain. He had a sense of enormous unnatural fragility, like hollow glass. He sat silently on a rail, letting the velvet nose nuzzle him. Not much pain this morning. Praise God. He had fallen from his horse on his hands and the hands still hurt him but the pain in the chest was not bad at all. But it was not the pain that troubled him; it was a sick gray emptiness he knew too well, that sense of a hole clear through him like the blasted vacancy in the air behind a shell burst, an enormous emptiness. The thing about the heart was that you could not coax it or force it, as you could any other disease. Will power meant nothing. The great cold message had come in the spring, and Lee carried it inside him every moment of every day and all through the nights-that endless, breathless, inconsolable alarm: there is not much time, beware, prepare.

”Sir?”

Lee looked up. Young Walter Taylor. Lee came slowly awake, back to the misty world. Taylor stood in the rain with inky papers-a cool boy of twenty-four, already a major.

”Good morning, sir. Trust you slept well?”

The clear black eyes were concerned. Lee nodded. Taylor was a slim and cocky boy. Behind Lee’s back he called him “The Great Tycoon.” He did not know that Lee knew it. He had a delicate face, sensitive nostrils. He said cheerily, “Nothing from General Stuart, sir.”

Lee nodded.

”Not a thing, sir. We can’t even pick up any rumors. But we mustn’t fret now, sir.” A consoling tone. “They haven’t got anybody can catch General Stuart.”

Lee turned to the beautiful horse. He had a sudden rushing sensation of human frailty, death like a blowing wind: Jackson was gone, Stuart would go, like leaves from autumn trees. Matter of time.

Taylor said airily, “Sir, I would assume that if we haven’t heard from the general it is obviously because he has nothing to report.”

”Perhaps,” Lee said.

”After all, sir, Longstreet’s man is a paid spy. And an actor to boot.” Taylor pursed his lips primly, nicked way from a gray cuff.

Lee said, “If I do not hear from General Stuart by this evening I will have to send for him.”

”Yes, sir.”

”We’ll send the Maryland people. They’ll be familiar with the ground.”

”Very good, sir.” Taylor shifted wet papers. “Message here from General Hill, sir.”

”Yes.”

”The General wishes to inform you that he is going into Gettysburg this morning with his lead Division.” Taylor squinted upward at a lightening sky, “I expect he’s already under way He advises me that there is a shoe factory in the town and his men intend to, ah, requisition some footgear.”

Taylor grinned.

”General Ewell is moving down from the north?”

”Yes, sir. The rain may slow things somewhat. But General Ewell expects to be in the Cashtown area by noon.”

Lee nodded. Taylor peered distastefully at another paper.

”Ah, there is a report here, sir, of Union cavalry in Gettysburg, but General Hill discounts it.”

”Cavalry?”

”Yes, sir. General Pettigrew claims he saw them yesterday afternoon. General Hill says he was, ah, overeager.

General Hill says he expects no opposition but perhaps some local militia, with shotguns and such.”

Taylor grinned cheerily Lee remembered Longstreet’s spy. If it is Union cavalry, there will be infantry close behind it. Lee said, “Who is Hill’s head commander?”

”Ah, that will be General Heth, sir.”

Harry Heth. Studious. Reliable. Lee said, “General Hill knows I want no fight until this army is concentrated.”

”Sir, he does.”

”That must be clear.”

”I believe it is, sir.”

Lee felt a thump, a flutter in his chest. It was as if the heart was turning over. He put his hand there, passed one small breathless moment. It happened often: no pain, just a soft deep flutter. Taylor was eyeing him placidly. He had no fear of the Army of the Potomac.

”Will the General have breakfast?”

Lee shook his head.

”We have flapjacks in small mountains, sir. You must try them, sir. Fresh butter and bacon and wagons of hams, apple butter, ripe cherries. Never seen anything like it, sir. You really ought to pitch in. Courtesy of mine host, the great state of Pennsylvania. Nothing like it since the war began. Marvelous what it does for morale. Never saw the men happier. Napoleon knew a thing or two, what? For a Frenchman?”

Lee said, “Later.” There was no hunger in the glassy chest. Want to see Longstreet. Up ahead, in the mist, A. P. Hill probes toward Gettysburg like a blind hand. Hill was new to command. One-legged Ewell was new to command. Both had replaced Stonewall Jackson, who was perhaps irreplaceable. Now there was only Longstreet, and a thumping heart. Lee said, “We will move the headquarters forward today, this morning.”

”Yes, sir. Sir, ah, there are a number of civilians to see you.”

Lee turned sharply. “Trouble with our soldiers?”

”Oh no, sir. No problem there. The men are behaving very well, very well indeed. Oh yes, sir. But, ah, there are some local women who claim we’ve taken all their food, and although they don’t complain of our having paid for it all in the good dear coin of the mighty state of Virginia- “ Taylor grinned-“they do object to starving. I must say that Ewell’s raiding parties seem to have been thorough. At any rate, the ladies seek your assistance. Rather massive ladies, most of them, but one or two have charm.”

”See to it. Major.”

”Of course, sir. Except, ah, sir, the old gentleman, he’s been waiting all night to see you.”

”Old gentleman?”

”Well, sir, we conscripted his horse. At your orders, as you know. I explained that to the old man, fortunes of war and all that, but the old gentleman insists that the horse is blind, and can be of no use to us, and is an old friend.”

Lee sighed. “A blind horse?”

”Yes, sir. I didn’t want to trouble you, sir, but your orders were strict on this point.”

”Give him the horse. Major.”

”Yes, sir.” Taylor nodded.

”We must be charitable with these people. Major. We have enough enemies.”

”Oh yes, sir.” Taylor made a slight bow. “The men have the strictest orders. But I must say, sir, that those orders would be easier to follow had the Yankees shown charity when they were back in Virginia.”