Harry Turtledove - Marching Through Peachtree

I’ve been delighted serving here, Roast-Beef William thought. It’s a rare privilege, taking orders from a man junior to me in time served in rank… and watching him butcher what was a fine fighting force . If he said any of that aloud, he would be screaming before he was through. At least I have the sense to know as much . What he did say were two perfectly safe words: “Yes, sir.”

“Well, whether you told me or not, your request has been approved,” Bell said. “You will be transferred out of the command of the Army of Franklin.”

Oh, gods be praised , Roast-Beef William thought. Saying that to the man who held the command in the Army of Franklin could only cause trouble. He didn’t want trouble, not when he was escaping. He asked, “Where is my new assignment, sir?” Anywhere but here! Oh, gods be praised indeed!

“Here is the order.” Bell found a sheet of paper and thrust it at him. “I wish you the best of luck in your new post.”

Roast-Beef William took the sheet. “Let me see that, sir, if I may.” The script was as ornate as one would expect from the royal chancery. The prose style was ornate, too. William waded through flowery compliments and endless subordinate clauses till he got to the meat. You are requested and required to repair immediately to the vicinity of Veldt, the scribe wrote, there to organize defenses against General Hesmucet’s anticipated westward movement. You are to oppose him as far forward as you can, and to continue to oppose him with all resources at your disposal . William looked up at Bell. “You’ve read this?”

“Oh, yes,” the general commanding replied.

“It says I’m supposed to oppose the southrons with all the resources at my disposal,” William said. “When I get to Veldt, what sort of resources will I have at my disposal?”

Lieutenant General Bell started to shrug, winced, and cursed softly under his breath. “I haven’t the slightest idea. Whatever garrison’s in the citadel there, I suppose, and however many militiamen you can persuade Satrap Brown to turn loose and arm.”

That was what Roast-Beef William had been afraid of. “I’m supposed to take up a collection of miserable odds and sods, then, and stop Hesmucet with them?”

“Seems to be what the order says, wouldn’t you agree?”

“So it is,” William said heavily. “But how in the hells am I supposed to do that when the whole Army of Franklin couldn’t manage it?”

“Not my responsibility,” Bell said. Roast-Beef William wanted to kick him. He went on, “I’m sure you’ll do your best.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir,” William said in a hollow voice. “But what will you and the Army of Franklin be doing in the meantime? You’re the best protection Peachtree Province has.”

“These past several weeks, I’ve done my best to drive General Hesmucet mad,” Bell replied. “If he’s chasing the Army of Franklin all over the landscape, he can’t very well march west against you, can he?”

“Well… no, sir,” William admitted. “But suppose he stops chasing you and goes on his merry way?”

Bell looked mysterious, which inclined Roast-Beef William toward violence against his person once more. Then he said, “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, since you’re going away, but they do call you Old Reliable, and I think you’ve earned the name.” After that sort of buildup, William expected to be disappointed by whatever he said, but he turned out to have made a mistake there, for Bell declared, “Ned of the Forest is bringing his unicorn-riders west to rejoin the Army of Franklin.”

“ Is he?” William exclaimed. Bell’s leonine head solemnly nodded. William said, “That is good news, sir. Ned’s a fine officer, even if he can be a bit… touchy.”

“He couldn’t get along with Thraxton the Braggart, is what you mean,” Bell said. “Of course, nobody gets along with Thraxton.”

You didn’t think that when he put you in command here, William thought-which didn’t mean Bell was wrong. With a sigh, the departing officer said, “I wish things here would have turned out better.”

“So do I,” Bell replied. “If anyone is mad enough to believe I wanted to leave Marthasville to the tender mercies of the southrons… Do you know, Lieutenant General, when they paraded through the city, they had the gods-damned gall to use a blond as one of their standard-bearers-and not just a blond, mind you, but a blond underofficer, of all the impossible things!”

“Blonds in King Avram’s army have fought better than Detinans ever imagined they could,” Roast-Beef William said. “It’s no wonder some officers in this kingdom-in this army-have begun to wonder if we shouldn’t put crossbows in their hands and see what they can do for us.”

Bell sneered. “I heard about Brigadier Patrick the Cleaver’s memorial to King Geoffrey. I couldn’t very well keep from hearing about it, when I was flat on my back after I lost my leg. Look what happened to Patrick: he was ordered not to talk about it, and he’s been passed over for promotion every time a new command came open. No, thanks, Lieutenant General-I want no part of arming blonds.”

“If we can get enough Detinan soldiers, well and good, sir,” William said. “If not, and if blonds can fight-shouldn’t we get some use out of them, seeing that our enemies do?”

“Arming blonds destroys everything being a Detinan means,” Bell said.

“Yes, sir,” Roast-Beef William agreed. He had no great love for blonds-except, perhaps, for some of their prettier women. But he couldn’t help adding, “Losing the war destroys everything being a Detinan means, too. If arming blonds would keep that from happening now , we could worry about everything else later .”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. King Geoffrey doesn’t think it’s a good idea, either,” Bell said. “You may not care about my views, Lieutenant General, but those of the king will prevail.”

He was right, of course. He was right about Geoffrey’s suppression of Patrick the Cleaver’s memorial. He was right about Patrick’s failure to get promoted. Of course, Patrick the Cleaver probably didn’t altogether understand what being a Detinan meant. He wasn’t a northerner born, but had crossed the Western Ocean from the Sapphire Isle himself as a young man. To him, blonds might seem like people, not like natural-born serfs.

If a few brigades of well-armed blond crossbowmen and pikemen were waiting for me at Veldt, I’d be a lot happier going there-I could do something against Hesmucet in that case, William thought. But then he frowned. Or could I? Could I trust them not to shoot me in the back and go over to the southrons?

“If we did use them, we’d have to promise to treat them like Detinans once they left the army,” he mused.

“Cows will fly before we arm blonds,” Bell said. “Don’t waste your time thinking about it.”

And he was bound to be right about that, too. Roast-Beef William saluted. “If you will excuse me, sir? I have a lot to think about before I take over my new command.”

“Of course. You’re dismissed, Lieutenant General,” Bell said. “And I wish you the best of fortune in the west.”

“Thank you, sir,” William said. “The best fortune I can think of would be for the southrons not to come west at me. If tearing up the glideway line will keep that from happening, I’m all for it.”

“I think it will,” Bell said. “After all, the Grand Marshal’s army was nothing but a starving band of fugitives on the retreat from Pahzbull fifty years ago. They got in, but most of them didn’t come out again. I don’t see any reason why the same thing can’t happen to General Hesmucet and his men.”