Harry Turtledove - Marching Through Peachtree

“Sir, Count Thraxton would speak with you,” Zibeon replied.

“Thraxton?” Bell said, and the junior officer nodded. Part of Bell wished he’d waited a little longer to take the laudanum. If he was going to talk with King Geoffrey’s friend-to say nothing of the king’s snoop here in Peachtree Province-he should have had wits as clear as he could make them. But no help for that now. Clear wits or not, he had to see Thraxton. “Send him in.”

“Good day, Lieutenant General,” Thraxton said, his tone and expression suggesting that all good days were no more than figments of other men’s imaginations. “I have just come from speaking with Count Joseph.” His voice got even chillier, no mean feat.

“Good day, your Grace,” Bell said. “Is he ever going to use this army of ours, or is he just going to keep running with it?”

“Ah.” Thraxton leaned forward markedly. “So you would fight the southrons, then, if the Army of Franklin were in your hands?”

“I sure would, sir.” Bell’s wits were clear enough to leave him with no doubts on that score. “We could whip those sons of bitches, if the men only had the chance to do it.”

“You think so, do you?” Thraxton said.

“Sir, I’m sure of it,” Bell replied.

“This is what I had hoped to hear from Joseph the Gamecock,” Thraxton the Braggart said. “It is what King Geoffrey has been hoping to hear from Joseph through this whole campaign. He has not heard it. I did not hear it. That being so, I am authorized to remove Count Joseph from his command here.”

“And?” Bell could say no more than that, and even the one word came out as a breathy whisper.

“And,” Thraxton continued sourly, “to offer the said command to you, Lieutenant General, should you prove willing to accept it.”

For a moment, Bell thought the laudanum had taken effect all at once, instead of gradually as it usually did. Then he realized joy could bring a feeling as intense as distillate of poppy juice. “Your Grace,” he said, “you and his Majesty honor me far beyond my deserts.”

“We had better not,” Count Thraxton answered. “The kingdom needs you to go forward and beat the southrons. We cannot afford delay-we have had altogether too much of delay-and we cannot afford defeat.”

“You may rely on me and on my brave men, sir,” Bell said.

“I do, Lieutenant General. The kingdom does,” Thraxton the Braggart replied. “It is late in the day, I know, to make this change, but King Geoffrey decided it must be made. He sends you his wishes for good fortune, and for a fresh start in driving the noxious foe from our soil.”

When he said fresh start , he hesitated as if the words tasted bad. And, when he said them, Bell saw why he himself had the command and Thraxton did not. Thraxton had already failed with the Army of Franklin. He’d proved he did not have good fortune. Maybe Bell would show he did.

“For the kingdom, sir, I will go forward,” Bell declared. “Have you yet told Joseph the Gamecock he is removed?”

Thraxton shook his head. “I have not. I wanted to be certain you would accept the command before announcing the change.”

“I am glad to accept, proud to accept,” Bell said. “Truly, this is a great day.” He could feel the laudanum now as it worked its familiar magic, building a wall between his mind and spirits and the ravaged body that had to serve them. But, even though the laudanum usually dulled his feelings as well as his feeling, joy still blazed in his heart: an enormous bonfire of delight.

“May it be so.” Count Thraxton didn’t sound as if he believed it. He didn’t sound as if he believed anything. He’s old and worn out, Bell thought. King Geoffrey is right to leave him on the sidelines . The Braggart went on, “Now that you have accepted your new post, shall we give Count Joseph the news?”

A certain gloating anticipation suffused his voice. He doesn’t like Joseph the Gamecock, either, Bell realized. Nobody likes Joseph the Gamecock. King Geoffrey surely doesn’t . But then, nobody save King Geoffrey liked Count Thraxton, either.

“Yes, let’s.” Bell hitched his slow way out of the farmhouse. Thraxton held the door wide for him. “Thanks,” Bell said.

“My pleasure,” Thraxton replied, though his voice suggested that whatever he knew of pleasure came by hearsay.

“Major Zibeon!” Bell called. When his aide-de-camp appeared, he said, “Fetch my unicorn, if you’d be so kind. I have a call to pay on Joseph the Gamecock.”

Zibeon’s eyebrows rose. “Is it that kind of call, sir?”

“It is indeed that kind of call,” Bell answered jubilantly. “By the gods, Major, the southrons have seen the backs of the Army of Franklin for the last time.”

“Congratulations, sir,” his aide-de-camp said. “May everything turn out as well as we hope.”

“A worthy prayer,” Bell said. “May the gods hear it.”

Zibeon hurried away. He returned in short order with Bell’s unicorn. Even with laudanum coursing through Bell, mounting was a painful business. Having his aide-de-camp strap him to the beast so he could stay in the saddle was also a humiliation of sorts. But Count Thraxton said, “Your courage does you credit,” and Lieutenant General Bell felt better.

Dismounting from the unicorn in front of Joseph the Gamecock’s headquarters was harder than getting aboard had been, but Bell managed. Before he and Count Thraxton could go in, Count Joseph came out. He was half a head shorter than either of the men coming to call on him, but in such a transport of fury that he seemed to tower over them. “You son of a bitch. You son of a bitch bastard,” he snarled at Thraxton. “Gods damn you to the hells and gone, you’re here to take my job away, aren’t you?”

“Your Grace, King Geoffrey has authorized me to relieve you of command of the Army of Franklin,” Thraxton replied. “After discussing the matter with him at length, I am utilizing that authorization.”

“Who’s in command?” Joseph asked. “You? Gods help the kingdom if that’s so. You won one battle your whole stinking career, and you futtered that one away afterwards.”

Count Thraxton’s sallow face darkened with anger. “Your successor will be Lieutenant General Bell here.”

Joseph the Gamecock pointed a finger at Bell. “I know what you’re going to do. I know just what you’re going to do. You’re going to take this army and throw it right at the southrons.”

“It’s about time someone got some use out of it, wouldn’t you say?” Bell returned. “The men will enjoy going forward instead of back.”

“I know the other thing you’re going to do, too,” Joseph said. “You’re going to throw this army away. You can’t lick Hesmucet by slugging toe to toe with him. You haven’t got the men for it.”

“If I don’t come out and fight, Marthasville will fall,” Bell said. “The kingdom can’t have that. And the kingdom won’t have it, either. I can drive the southrons back, and I will do it.”

Thraxton the Braggart nodded approval. “This is the spirit on account of which King Geoffrey chose the brilliant Bell as your successor, your Grace,” he told Joseph.

“If he wants spirits, let him go to a tavern,” Joseph the Gamecock snapped.

“Shall I give you a formal written order to turn command of this army over to Lieutenant General Bell?” Thraxton asked.

“Don’t bother wasting the time. You’ve told me. I believe you,” Joseph said. “Gods help our kingdom-but if the gods were paying any attention to us, they wouldn’t have let that idiot of a Geoffrey put this idiot of a Bell in charge of what’s been a perfectly good army up till now.”