“Republic? It is already dead,” Bugarin snapped. “It died when your soldiers ran at Capua, unable even to retake their own territory.”
“I had a brother with Eleventh Corps,” Flavius announced coldly. “If he is dead, he died fighting, not running. I’ve been a soldier most of my life, and I know my people. They are as good in battle as those from Rus. I wish I could strangle with my own hands whoever started these rumors, these lies about my people.”
“Understandable you would react that way.”
Flavius stopped for a moment, not sure of what to say next.
“If that is all you wish to discuss?” Bugarin asked haughtily.
“No, of course not.”
“Then out with it. It’s late, and I have other concerns.”
“Will you pull Rus out of the war?”
“My position is well-known.”
“And that is?”
“The war is unwinnable now. We must seek a way out.”
“And that means selling Roum to the Bantag?”
“Are you not contemplating the same deal with Jurak?” Flavius said nothing for a moment.
“You have spies as do I. I know that Marcus, before his death, was secretly meeting with the ambassadors before they were forwarded to the Senate. And remember, Flavius, the issues of war and peace rest with the Senate. The great colonel designed it that way, did he not?”
“There is nothing more to be said,” Flavius replied coldly.
Bugarin smiled.
“It was a feeble attempt,” Bugarin ventured just as he was starting to turn to leave.
“What?” And there was a cold note of challenge in Flavius’s voice.
“Just that. Too bad you missed.”
As Bugarin turned the sound of a dagger being drawn hissed in the assembly hall. Bugarin turned, dagger drawn as well.
“Come on you lowborn bastard,” Bugarin snarled. “Spill blood here and show what a lie this place is.”
Flavius was as still as statue, dagger poised low. Finally, he relaxed, letting the blade slip back into its sheath.
“Yes, it’s true I know not who my father is. My bastardy is of birth, not of behavior.”
Bugarin tensed, ready to spring, but knew that before he even crossed the few feet that separated them the old veteran would have his blade back out and buried to the hilt. Forcing a smile, Bugarin stepped back several feet.
“It will be settled soon enough. I think the question is now, who will betray whom first.”
“As I assumed, Senator,” Flavius said with a smile.
Chapter Six
Andrew slowed as they rode past the station, reining in his horse for a moment to let the long string of ambulances pass. The hospital trains had been coming in throughout the night, more than three thousand men over the last week, and with each casualty unloaded a new story was blurted out about the disaster at Capua.
In the predawn darkness he knew no one would recognize him. In the past he would have stopped to talk with the wounded as they were off-loaded, offer encouragement, but not this morning. On this of all mornings there were other things to be done before the sun rose.
Hans, riding beside him, bit off a chew and passed the plug over to Andrew, who nodded his thanks and took a bite of the bitter tobacco.
They rode in silence. Hans, slumped comfortably in the saddle, carbine cradled in one arm. Andrew looked over at him, wondering, wanting to say so much but not sure how to say it.
“Hans?”
“Yes?”
He sounded so relaxed.
“Are you afraid?” Andrew whispered.
Hans smiled.
“A slave doesn’t have the luxury to be afraid. Remember, I was a slave, and then I was freed, at least in body. I wonder if this is how Lazarus felt, having seen what was beyond and then returning.”
He shook his head, as if the dark thoughts of the years of imprisonment weighed him down.
“Every day I’ve had since has been a gift. Now it’s time to pay for the gift.”
“I wish it was different.”
“I know, son. It’s all right, though,” Hans said soothingly. “You were the one that had to make the decision to do this and now bear the responsibility for our lives. This might very well be the hardest command decision you’ve ever made.”
Andrew nodded.
“Once we take off, the commotion will certainly be noticed. and you’ll have to tell Congress. If we lose”-and he chuckled-“well, there goes the last hope I guess.” Andrew didn’t want to think of that alternative yet. It would mean every single airship and ironclad was gone. Without them, Jurak would slice through the Capua line like a hot knife through butter. As it stood now, if he second-guessed what was truly up, he might do it anyhow.
“Damn tough decision,” Hans said, “and here you were worried if you’d lost your nerve.”
“Just before we went in at Capua, I lied to you, Hans.”
Hans chuckled and spat. “You mean about willingly sacrificing me if it meant victory.”
“Yes, I’ve sacrificed too many. I still think I should go on this one, not you.”
“Can you speak Chin?” Hans asked. “How about the Bantag slave dialect, or even Bantag for that matter?” Andrew sighed and shook his head.
“Well that kind of settles it, doesn’t it?”
“I know.”
“Andrew. Sometimes it’s the staying behind and doing nothing that’s the hardest thing of all.”
They stopped as a diminutive switching engine, one of the old 4-4-0 models wheezed past them, pushing a flatcar loaded with two freshly made ten-pound breechloaders. “I’ve been thinking on that, too,” Andrew said.
“What?”
“The doing nothing.”
Hans chuckled. “Actually, my friend, given my choice, I’m glad I’m going rather than staying here and dealing with this snake pit of politics.”
Andrew could not help but smile as they urged their mounts forward after the train passed.
Once clear of the yard they rode up through the rows of roughly made brick homes that housed the thousands of workers who labored down in the valley of the Vina River.
Past one of the burial mounds of the Tugars they continued their climb up the hill, Hans stopping for a moment to watch the inferno of steam and smoke cascading up from the foundry as a new batch of molten iron was released from its cauldron.
“It’s almost beautiful,” Hans exclaimed, pointing to the towering clouds of smoke caught and illuminated by the first light of early dawn. Andrew found himself in agreement. It made him think of the school of artists back on the old world, who worshiped the beauty of nature and painted the scenery of the Hudson River valley.
The smoke and steam had the same quality as the billowing afternoon cumulus, cloaking a mountaintop, but this mountain was man-made, the clouds man-made as well. The lighting, however, was unworldly, the deep morning reds unique to this world.
He smiled at the thought of the word unworldly, unworldly for home, but then this was home now, after all these years the sunlight normal, the twin moons normal, the lighter feel when one walked normal as well.
“I take it yesterday’s session with the Senate was bad?” Hans asked.
Andrew nodded. “It’s deadlock. Kal is nowhere out of the woods yet. Flavius refuses to step in as acting president since it would mean that a pro-peace man would take his place, and Bugarin is badgering to sign the agreement presented by the Chin ambassadors.”
“Well, in an hour I’ll be beyond it all,” Hans announced.
“I know,” Andrew whispered.
“Maybe by doing nothing at all you might be doing the best thing possible,” Hans said.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll figure it out.”
Hans chuckled, and Andrew knew his friend had presented him with a little something to dwell on and was not about to say anything more on the subject.
Their path led them through what had once been the grove where he had first admitted to Kathleen that he loved her, long since gone and replaced with warehouses and yet more brick homes. Finally, they crested the road leading along the banks of the reservoir and were out of the new city of Suzdal. The waters of the lake were still, a mirror surface reflecting the morning sky, a soft welcome relief.