Sons of Liberty (24 page)

Rochester picked up one of the maps and held it out. “As of the last report, the French are advancing slowly up from New Orleans, relying on the Alabama for transport and logistical support. They are making a handful of small thrusts into Florida, but their main advance seems to be aimed at Amherst. That makes a great deal of sense, unfortunately. Amherst is our major logistical hub in the region.”

“
That’s nearly five hundred miles, as the crow flies,” General Paget said. “Even with river transport for part of the trip, their logistics are going to be thoroughly unpleasant and they have to know it.”

“
The French are good at long marches,” Colonel Jackson offered. “And besides, it isn't as if they have a shortage of either porters or supplies.”

Gwen nodded, tartly. There were hundreds of thousands of slaves in the war zone. They’d side with the French, naturally, and afterwards they’d do everything in their power to work for a French victory, knowing what would happen to them if the French lost. If all they did was carry supplies from New Orleans to the front lines - and the French would probably have established deports far closer to the expected battles - they’d make a major contribution to French firepower and mobility.

“If they take Amherst,” Lord Tarleton mused, “they’ll make it harder for us to undo the damage.”

“
Forget Amherst,” Lord Jackson snarled. “What about the slaves?”

“
The early reports indicate that a number of plantations have been burnt,” Rochester said, shortly. “I’ve sent orders to the border forces to put contingency plans into operation, but ...”

“
But nothing,” Jackson interrupted. “Do you have any idea what the slaves will do to the women!”

Rochester stared him down. “I am aware of what is at stake,” he said, coldly. “But panic will get us nowhere.”

“
This is your fault,” Jackson insisted. “If you’d sent extra soldiers to the borders ...”

“
They might well have been killed,” General Paget said. His voice was harsh, deliberately so. “The border between us and the French is far too long for us to build a wall, My Lord, not when everyone from fugitive slaves to Indian bands cross at will. Our plans were always predicted on slowing the French, rather than stopping them, until we got reinforcements in place. Leaving large garrisons dotted all over the landscape would have been asking for trouble. The French would have overwhelmed them one by one.”

“
And now the slaves are on the loose,” Jackson insisted. “Our infrastructure lies in tatters.”

Gwen felt her patience snap. Reaching out, she slapped the table hard enough to sting. “I don't see any point in fighting over something that cannot be changed,” she said. “The question is how much we can preserve while waiting for reinforcements to arrive.”

“
Well said, Lady Gwen,” Rochester said. He cleared his throat meaningfully. “General?”

General Paget took the map. “As you know, we made the decision to limit our road and rail construction past Amherst because we thought it would make French logistics easier,” he said. “Our contingency plans, therefore, call for the militia and ranger troops to slow the French up as much as possible, while we assemble a defence line here” - he traced a line from Amherst to the sea - “and cut the French off by sea. The sheer size of the terrain works in our favour, particularly once they start to run short on supplies. They would be dared into making an attack on Amherst itself or starving to death.”

“And the slaves would die with them,” Lord Tarleton said.

“
That isn't a good thing,” Lord Jackson snapped. “I ...”

“
Enough about the slaves,” Rochester said. He didn't shout, but his tone was hard enough to make Lord Jackson shut up sharply. “They are no longer a concern.”

That was probably true, Gwen reasoned. And once New York realised that Lord Jackson’s human property had joined the French, Lord Jackson was no longer likely to be a concern either. His creditors would come sniffing around, demanding repayment of any outstanding debts, while he and his wife would become social pariahs. She'd seen it happen before, in London.

“
Lady Gwen,” Rochester said. “Are your sorcerers ready for battle?”

Gwen honestly didn't know if she should laugh or cry. She should have told him about the rogue immediately, not waited in the hopes of speaking to him privately ...

“
No,” she said, flatly. She’d have a chance to talk to him after the meeting. “I have one trained Blazer and that’s it. The conscripts show promise, but they need a lot more training and practice before they can use their powers for combat.”

“
You don’t have the time,” Rochester said. “If the French are advancing towards Amherst, they’ll have magicians with them.”

Gwen nodded. The French would probably need magicians to break through the defences of Amherst, unless they wished to attack over the bodies of their own dead. Hell, getting enough artillery up to force the city to surrender wouldn't be easy either. The only hope of winning quickly was to use magicians, which meant she needed to be there. Fighting enemy magicians was her job.

“
I understand, Your Excellency,” she said. “When do you want us to leave?”

“
I’m assembling a force of regulars and militiamen,” General Paget said. “Thankfully, we had contingency plans to seize as much rolling stock as necessary, so getting our troops down south shouldn't be that hard. You’ll be going with the first train.”

Unless the French cut the lines, Gwen thought. They’d done it during the Battle of Dorking, seemingly convinced it would keep the Duke of India from moving his forces around the battlefield. If that happens, we’re going to be in some trouble.

She leaned forward. “What happens if the French cut the lines?”

“
We have repair crews attached to the trains,” General Paget said. “The French would have to do a great deal of damage to keep us from sending reinforcements south.”

I hope you’re right, Gwen thought.

Lord Tarleton coughed. “Is there any word from London?”

“
Not as yet,” Rochester said. “The French Channel Fleet took a beating during the invasion, but the Prime Minister is reluctant to release regular soldiers until the safety of Britain itself can be guaranteed.”

“
Press him for magicians,” Gwen said, bluntly. She silently tipped her hat to the French planners. Poisoning the magicians in New York had worked out like a dream. “We are critically short of magicians.”

And we have at least one rogue hanging around the city, she added, silently. Who knows what he has in mind?

She leaned back in her chair as the gentlemen discussed the plan, going over the basic details piece by piece. It looked good, Gwen thought, given the limitations on their ability to project power, but she had few illusions. They might have to hope that the Royal Navy would capture enough French possessions to exchange for any surrendered territory to the south of Amherst, assuming anyone wanted it back. But then, the south was practically a breadbasket in its own right, as well as the premier source of cotton. The economists would want to recapture it if possible.

And that means prolonging the issue of slavery, she thought, coldly. The slaves are needed to harvest the cotton ...

“
Lady Gwen,” Rochester said. “Can you be ready to depart in two days?”

“
As ready as we will ever be, Your Excellency,” Gwen said, shortly. A year of training would be far better, but they’d be lucky if they had time to practice once they reached Amherst. “It’ll have to do.”

“
Good,” Rochester said. “Colonel Jackson will accompany you and the magicians, along with the first reinforcements for the city. Colonel, I will be discussing certain contingency plans with you later.”

“Of course, Your Excellency,” Colonel Jackson said.

“
General, please see to the plans,” Rochester said. “Admiral Parker, have your squadrons been informed?”

“
Yes, Your Excellency,” Admiral Parker said. “I have given orders for them to assemble near the Potomac, where they will prepare to raid French shipping and sweep the coast of Mexico. We can also prepare transports, either to reinforce the defence lines or land troops on the shores of New Orleans. It should give the French a nasty surprise, particularly if their advance northwards stalls.”

“Good,” Rochester said.

“
We’re ignoring the elephant in the room,” Gwen said, quietly. “What about the Sons of Liberty?”

“
We’ll talk about that afterwards,” Rochester said. “Lord Tarleton, Lord Jackson, I want you both to work on presenting confidence to the world. I’ll be addressing Parliament later in the day - I want you to make it clear to everyone that we have good reason to be confident, despite the French menace. The French have threatened our shores before, but we have beaten them. Always.”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” Lord Tarleton said.

Beside him, Lord Jackson merely snorted. But then, Gwen thought, he didn't have reason to be confident. Whoever won the war, Lord Jackson was likely to lose. His slaves would either go with the French or be brutally hunted down, after the war. There was no way a rebellious slave could be allowed to live.

“
Lady Gwen, stay here,” Rochester concluded. “Everyone else, you know what you have to do.”

Gwen watched as the men left, save for Bruce. He stayed in his seat, waiting. That was odd, Gwen thought. It was possible he was serving as his father’s assistant - nepotism was alive and well in London - although the impression he presented didn't suggest he was trusted with anything important. But that could be an illusion ... Irene had told her, more than once, that she’d known some very clever men who’d made a career out of looking like idiots. No one had taken them seriously until it had been far too late.

“
There’s another concern I didn't want to mention to the others,” Rochester added, once the door was firmly closed. “General Kingsley was murdered, the night before the offensive began. The identity of the murderer remains unknown, but there are hints it might well have been one of his American subordinates.”

“
Damn,” Gwen said. “If that’s true ...”

“The militia is unreliable,” Rochester said.

“
Maybe not,” Gwen said, clinging to a wisp of hope. “If I were the French commander, I’d be trying to drive a wedge between the British and the Americans. Murdering a British officer and blaming it on the Americans would definitely make both sides reluctant to trust one another.”

“
We don’t know,” Rochester said. “I’d prefer to give Colonel Jackson a field promotion and put him in command, but that won’t go down well with any of the America hands. They’d claim Jackson was another Braddock and they’d be right.”

Gwen frowned. “Braddock?”

Surprisingly, it was Bruce who answered. “He was a British officer who took command of allied forces in North America, 1755, only to lead them to a disastrous defeat,” he said, slowly. “Even Washington considered him a brave man, but dangerously ignorant of the realities of North American warfare.”

“That’s correct,” Rochester said.

He sighed. “Lady Gwen, watch your back very carefully,” he added. “I’ll be sending Paget down to take command as soon as possible, but right now I have too many problems to spare him.”

“
I will,” Gwen said. She sucked in her breath. “You also have another problem.”

Rochester sighed, again. “What?”

“
There’s at least one rogue magician running around New York,” Gwen said. “A Mover, a very well trained and experienced Mover.”

“
God damn it,” Rochester swore. “Are you sure?”

“
He damaged several buildings during our brief confrontation,” Gwen said, swiftly outlining what had happened. “Whoever he was, Your Excellency, he’s good.”

Bruce glanced at her. “Better than you?”

“
He’s probably had more time to practice with his lone talent,” Gwen said. She didn't want to admit weakness, least of all to a young man she was starting to dislike, but there was no point in covering up the truth. “He certainly knew how to use his power to best advantage in a fight - he knew how to fight, he knew how to split his attention ...”

“Isn't that a female skill?”

“
He was very definitely a man,” Gwen said, fighting down her irritation. “And powerful enough to be a real threat.”

She looked at Rochester. “He might try to kill you, Your Excellency.”

Bruce spluttered with shock. “He ... he would never dare! This palace is heavily guarded!”

“
He’s a Mover,” Gwen said. She had to fight the urge to reach out with her power and hold him upside down. “He can just smash his way through most of the defences.”

“
You can't stay here,” Rochester said. He took a long breath. “If he comes for me, he comes for me.”

“
You can't die,” Gwen insisted. “Your Excellency ...”

“
And we can't lose Amherst either,” Rochester said. His voice was very firm. “Whoever this magician is, whatever he wants, it changes nothing. We have to stop the French from breaking into the heartlands or we’ll lose most of the empire. If that means leaving me without a proper bodyguard ... well, I’ll take the risk.”

“Father,” Bruce said.

Gwen felt a flicker of vindictive glee, mixed with guilt and shame. Bruce didn't seem to care much for his father, but the prospect of losing him had to sting. Part of her wanted to enjoy his sudden horror, the rest of her was horrified at revelling in someone’s pain. Maybe Bruce really needed nothing more than a slap across the face from reality.