Harry Turtledove (Editor) - Alternate Generals III

Croft reached out and gently pulled the curtains closed again. "The night cometh, General," he said in a faraway voice, "when no man can work."

Croft pulled a carefully folded telegram from his waistcoat and handed it to Lee.

Rhett and Yancy had finally gotten their way; the Confederacy had passed the amendment to outlaw unilateral emancipation by a state.

Croft then handed Lee another telegram. "It would appear Louisiana has found more profit in trade with Britain and the North than in slavery. They've passed an emancipation act in defiance. The Confederacy simply can't allow that, can it? 'All one thing or another, as you said. Your own governor of Virginia is calling for troops to put down the Louisiana secession. The Confederacy must and shall be preserved. So much for state rights and sovereignty."

Lee let the telegrams fall to the floor. And with it, his Cause, his home, his world. A just, and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations. In the end, the South had achieved neither.

Croft bent down and picked the papers up. "The Foreign Office knew this was only hours from happening. It was just a matter of keeping you out of touch with both Richmond and Fleet Street until it did." He slipped it back in his pocket. "You saw the mood of Britain back there. The British government will recognize the new Pelican Flag Republic by morning. I'm sure the North won't be far behind us. The Confederacy is over, General. If it does nothing, it slowly disintegrates one state at time. If it fights, it faces not just Louisiana but Britain and the North as well."

"Overwhelming odds never stopped a Southerner from doing his duty before." A hollow boast and Croft had to know that.

"And what 'duty' is that ?" sneered Croft. "The last time you claimed your duty lay in protecting your state from an outside government. You betrayed your oath as an officer, betrayed everything else you held dear all for Virginia. Now Virginia does exactly to Louisiana what you claimed the North tried to do to Virginia."

Duty. "I told you my personal views don't matter. I represent my government, not myself."

"If you would but speak for yourself, your nation would follow. Virginia would follow her marble man anywhere. Resign your post, condemn your government's actions."

Lee shook his head. He knew his duty.

Croft snorted. "There sits Duty like a stone wall."

"You do not know the South."

"No. But I know men."

"You'll never convince them. You'll never convince me ."

"I've no need to. Your sense of duty will see to it for me."

Lee turned away. "I'll not justify myself to you."

" 'Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell. And no place for pardon left. No," Croft said with a slow shake of his head, "there's only one person to whom you need to justify your actions. Only one who can restore your sight."

The carriage pulled to a stop on Downing Street at the very spot where it had all begun. Smedley met them at the forgotten door to the Foreign Office. He led Croft and Lee back through the maze of halls to the cramped office, past the bench, through the gate in the wooden railing, and on through the side door.

In the flickering light from a tiny fireplace sat a huddled form under a rough cloak. The man looked up at their approach. His gaunt, craggy face stared up at them, the face of Abraham Lincoln.

Lincoln spoke no greeting.

How could he? The mob had cut out his tongue.

Lee shrank back, but there was no place to run from Lincoln's eyes. Which way I flie is Hell. Lee's heart pounded as if it would burst; a sharp, sudden pain pierced his right arm.

Croft turned to Lee, his face twisted with hate and disgust. "You want scripture? I'll give you scripture: 'If thine enemies fall upon thee; if they tear thee from the society of thy father and mother and brethren and sisters; if the very jaws of hell gape open the mouth wide after thee, he hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he? »

Lincoln shook his head and held up his hand to Croft. Leave us , he seemed to say.

Milton's serpent must have had that same curled snarl to his lips after offering the fruit in the Garden. Croft stepped back into the shadows, supremely confident he had brought down the Eden dream of Southern Arcadia, a paradise lost.

Lincoln looked back to Lee with eyes ancient in holy pain. Those very words of Lincoln's chiseled upon Lee's heart now flew up unbidden from Lincoln's still, unmoving lips. The mystic chords of memory will yet swell .

"I tried to save you," pleaded Lee.

We are not enemies, but friends.

"I did everything I could."

We must not be enemies.

Lee's knees buckled. He grabbed a chair for support. "What would you have of me?" he cried.

You have no oath, Lincoln's eyes answered. You have no oath registered in heaven to destroy the government, while I shall have the most solemn one to preserve, protect, and defend it.

I had the same oath, Lee screamed to himself, and I betrayed it. And for what? The Cause? Tell this man about the telegrams. Tell this man about Louisiana and how tonight you must now betray your precious Cause itself.

Lee turned from Lincoln only to see Croft's smug face, his lidded eyes hurling silent accusations. Was Lee's duty truly nothing more than vain pride?

Which way I flie is Hell, Milton's serpent smirked, and no place for pardon left but by submission and that word Disdain forbids me.

Lincoln rose from his chair. His thin, frail body unfolded as he stood, towering over Lee. With the halting shuffle of the aged and infirm, Lincoln stepped slowly across the room to Lee. He placed those massive hands on Lee's shoulders.

We are not enemies but friends. Let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds-to all which may achieve and cherish a just, and a lasting peace, among ourselves.

"I cannot." That word Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame. "You're asking me to turn against my own people, against Virginia." He hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he? "I cannot."

Lincoln turned from Lee. He stepped toward the window, as if to say as he had before the war- In your hands, my fellow countrymen and not in mine, is the issue .

Lee took one halting step toward him. "You trusted in my sense of duty once and I failed you! I'll only fail you again." Pain raced upward along his arm. He shrunk back. "Do not ask this of me!" Art thou greater?

Duty. Lee tried to cling to his only lifeline, but this time it held him not afloat, but pulled him down, ever farther down. Duty-duty to what? To whom? The works of him that sent me? What kind of works were betrayal and dishonor and slavery? What kind of master demanded such works?

What kind of servant obeyed?

What kind of man was born so blind he could not see it?

"Help me," Lee whispered.

Lincoln slowly turned, his eyes brimming. With firmness in the right. As God gives us to see the right . He reached his long arms wide and embraced his former enemy.

Lee shook in pain. His chest burned, his heart raced fearfully. He could hardly breathe. And yet, for the first time in years he felt at peace. He suddenly realized it was in this room Lincoln had written the words that could heal his nation. It was in this room Lee could write the words that could heal his nation.

Our nation.

Croft stepped up with pen and paper. Lee at last saw him for what he truly was: not a serpent holding forth the fruit of knowledge, but a friend cradling a precious gift, offering Lee not a bargain for his soul, but a sacrifice to save Virginia-and himself.

Lee looked at the squalid, shabby room of exile, looked into Lincoln's pain-filled eyes of true Lost Causes, looked at the price he, too, would have to pay.