Empire of Unreason (32 page)

Franklin was sure that the battle was already joined, right under
his nose. It took him several stunned seconds to understand that
this was a good sign, not a bad one.

Only Oglethorpe and Nairne looked bewildered. Everyone else had
taken up the call.

There had been a vote, and the vote was for war. Suddenly jubilant,
Franklin added his own voice to the howling mob.

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Franklin gulped down a cup of the hot cassina and made a face. It
was strong and bitter, like badly brewed coffee with a handful of
dirt thrown in. Still, it kept one awake, and in a world where coffee
and tea were worth twice their weight in gold, something of a
necessity. Especially when it was near sunrise, no sleep had or
promised, and plenty yet to do.

“I won’t do it,” Oglethorpe was saying. “I am the margrave. My first
responsibility is to my nation, as I have made plain.”

“Sir,” Franklin said wearily, “you have agreed, albeit reluctantly, to
our enterprise—”

“On my terms. I will not lead Maroons, nor do I feel comfortable
with Southern Rangers. I want nothing to do with this Continental
Army.”

“Then you want nothing to do with winning this fight,” Franklin
said, “for it is only as a continent that we can fight it. We must have
a military plan of action, and it must be unified. Surely you know
that, sir. Who else among us trained under the prince of Savoy
himself? I knew Prince Eugene personally, and, though I know little
of warfare, I can guess he would dearly love to come against an
army that had no head or common leader.”

Oglethorpe rubbed his eyes. “Yes, I see your point. I have seen it for
hours. But what can I do with such men? When should I train
them?”

“Do you train your Yamacraw troops?”

“No, of course not. I use them as scouts, as sneak thieves and
assassins.”

“There’s your answer, then. The Maroons live like Indians. Use
them so.”

“They are
not
Indians. The Yamacraw fight for honor and scalps.

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Maroons fight for plunder.”

“You must find some use for them.”

“Me? Why must it be me?”

“Because,” Thomas Nairne interjected, “you are the only real
general we have. We need you to command.”

“If the margravate comes into danger, I must come to her aid. Don’t
you see this will make me a poor commander for a mixed force?”

“No,” Nairne said, “for everything you do out here will keep them
away from the margravate. If they come under danger, it will be
because you have failed. Besides, if you command our troops, that
frees more of
your
men for the defense of the margravate itself, an
idea you surely must like better than us marching troops in.”

“Is that a threat, sir?”

“Good heavens, no! By God, man, whence comes this intractable
temper of yours?” Nairne exploded.

Oglethorpe glowered, then softened. “My people have suffered,” he
murmured, “more, I think, than you understand. And whilst once
they were a motley collection, and I a man of high birth, I
do

consider them my people now. Their safety is a charge I take
most

seriously. I was once much taken with notions of equality and
charity. I have opposed slavery, for I think it weakens the slaver as
much as it wrongs the slave. But I have learned to think very small,
gentlemen. The common good has become, to me, the good of my
own, and no others.”

“I urge you to think larger again,” Franklin said. “You have come to
love, as you called them, your ‘motley’ people. Well, that is the
Commonwealth in a nutshell. Without us, you perish. Without you,
we perish. Very simple, very much in the logic you have just
explained. You are an honest man, Margrave Oglethorpe, a hard
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man, and brassy one. Be our general.”

Oglethorpe pounded the table hard with his fist but said nothing.

His knuckles turned pink, then welled red; he had split the skin.

Then he tapped the table much less forcefully.

“I will do it,” he said at last. “God save us all, but I will do it.”

* * *

Two days later, Franklin rose to watch the first of the Continental
Army march. Led by Oglethorpe, they numbered two hundred—

mixed companies of rangers, Carolina regulars, Margravate
dragoons, Yamacraw, and Maroons. He watched them go with
pride and trepidation. He had helped make that strange union of
men, and if they met with defeat, he would own part of that, too.

When they were gone, he remained outside the fort, waiting. It was
his turn next.

A small figure appeared at the gate of the fort, paused, then made a
straight line for him.

“Good morning, my dear,” he said, as his wife came close. “Come to
see me off?”

“I’m going with you.”

The morning air was still, the grass of the prairie wet with dew. The
forest in the middle distance seemed heavy, a deep green ocean still
dark with night. Against it danced sudden green flashes, exactly
like schools offish upon the surface of the deep.

“Parakeets,” Franklin said, pointing. “Did you see them?”

“I’ve seen them often enough in our garden, stealing our corn,”

Lenka replied. “Do not change the subject.”

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“I’ve been through this with you before, my dear. Once before I put
you in harm’s way. I won’t do it again.”

“You leave me in a wooden fort, as a war begins, and think that I
am not in harm’s way?”

“I leave you with people I trust, people who are capable. The
Pretender’s army may well find its way here, but they will find only
scorched earth. Governor Nairne will see to you. Out there—” he
gestured westward “—out there, I am a fish on dry land. It will be
the most I can do to worry about my own life, without you thrown
into the bargain. The Coweta may greet us with open arms or they
may put us on frames and burn us slowly. The French may do no
better. I will not have you with me, Lenka. It will be distracting.”

“Thoroughly selfish, you are. I can make my way.”

“Yes? Can you light a fire, hunt game, contrive to cross a deep river,
parley in Shawano if we encounter a murderous band of them?”

“You can’t do those things.”

“Yes, and so I’m a dead weight to those who can. But with my
scientific supplies destroyed by the airship grenades, I am of little
use here, and Governor Nairne has ordered me on this mission.

The same is not true of you.”

“He did not order that I stay.”

“But I do.”

A dark look crossed her face, but her words were soft. “When has it
ever been that you could order me about, Ben? We are partners in
this life, as you have said many times, and with equal shares. Why
then do you decide who carries what burden?”

“In this case because I do, and for no other reason,” he said, a little
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sharply.

“Benjamin—don’t do it. If you do, take me with you.”

He took her hands. “Lenka, why do you persist? You know that I
would have you with me if I could.”

“I do not know it at all,” she replied. “I think rather that you have
become bored with me. We met in excitement, in adventure. It will
renew us to live so again.”

“Lenka, we do not need renewal. I am content with our marriage.”

“Content? Yes, ”content‘ is a good word. I did not marry you to be
content, Benjamin. I married you because you promised me more
than contentment.“

“And I married you because I love you. And I remember, if you do
not, the sight of you bleeding out your life because I had no more
sense than to take you where you should not have been.”

“It was my choice,” she said softly. “Mine. My fate. Do you think in
marrying you I have cast off choice?” When he didn’t answer, she
nodded briskly. “I see that you do.”

“Lenka—”

“No. Let it stand. Perhaps I was mistaken in you, Benjamin
Franklin.”

“Lenka, not now. Please, let us not come to blows now, just before I
go. Let us part friends.”

She snorted. “Very well—friend. Fare you well. But do not expect to
find that I have gone with the rest of your luggage and furniture
when you return. If you think I have relinquished my will, you will
find yourself much surprised.”

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“Lenka…”

“Adieu.” She turned very abruptly and strode off.

He pinched his face, kicked at the grass. Damn her! Didn’t he
already have enough to worry about? Why spring this on him so
suddenly, when the whole world was tumbling?

Almost he followed, to try and make amends, but at that moment,
more of his party emerged from the gates of the fort.

Let her have the last word, then. He would make it better when he
could, when he had time to breathe. She would calm, given time.

“Ready?” Robert asked.

“As ever I will be.” He looked over the rest of his escort. They were
all Southern Rangers—not neat, as soldiers went. They were
roughly shaven, their faded coats worn over checked shirts of
various colors tucked indifferently or not at all into knee breeches.

Some wore leggings, like Indians—in fact, two of them
were

Indians. They wore throwing axes at their belts and carried carbine
muskets, and each had two pistols in holsters on their saddles.

Most wore battered, plain hats, only their captain affecting a
tricorn. Franklin recognized him gladly.

“Captain McPherson,” Franklin said, taking the calloused hand.

“Damn fine speech the other day, Mr. Franklin, I must say. And I’m
proud to be your guide into the deserts of America.”

He gestured at a stocky brown mare. “This here is Lizzie, and she’ll
be your mount, if that be agreeable.”

“I’m not much of a horseman,” Franklin allowed. In fact, he
avoided horses when he could. His first real experience with the
beasts had been traumatic, a nightmare ride with Charles XII of
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Sweden. On the way to Fort Moore he had stayed mostly on foot or
in a wagon.

“Not’t‘ worry. Lizzie’s gentle enough. And if y’r ready, Mr.

Ambassador, it’s best we put some miles behind us before
sundown.”

Franklin nodded, went over to Lizzie and patted her a few times,
then tried a foot in a stirrup. She didn’t complain, and a moment
later he was mounted.

“I’ll introduce y‘ to the rest as we ride,” McPherson said. “You’ll
find ’em all good. Here, what’s that?”

He followed McPherson’s chin jerk. Five more men were riding
toward them from Fort Moore. Franklin recognized Priber and
three Cherokee. Voltaire was with them.

“Wait for them,” Franklin said. “Let’s see what they have to say.”

Priber smiled as they came within speaking range. “Well met, Mr.

Franklin. I was hoping that you would allow me and my men to ride
with you.”

“May I ask for what purpose, Mr. Priber?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “My fellows have been convinced to
join your cause. I must admit, your speech moved me as well. I
would like to help, if I can. I speak French, Spanish, Latin, Greek,
and Cherokee all passing well, and have some acquaintance with
the Muskogee tongue of Coweta. I can be of great help to you, I
think. And, I will admit, I hope to speak to you further on matters
philosophical.”

Franklin considered for a moment. “And you, Voltaire? You want
to brave the wilderness?”

“Me? It’s not unappealing, but no, I merely came to bid you
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farewell. I have my task laid out for me, as you know.”

Franklin nodded, cogs suddenly engaging in his head. He most
assuredly did not want Priber along with him—he was still not sure
he could trust the man, for one thing, and he did not wish to hear
endless arguments about communalistic Utopias for another—but
he also did not want to alienate him. “Mr. Priber, if you really want
to help, I’ve a better use for you, I think, one you will enjoy.”

“Sir?”

“Mr. Voltaire here is in the process of drafting a resolution, a
declaration to affirm the independence of this New World from the
Old. It must contain principles agreeable to all parties—Indians,
freedmen, the French, Spanish, English; Catholics, Quakers,
Anabaptists, and pagans. I should think with your background and
inclination you should be most admirably suited to that task.”

Priber frowned for an instant, then brightened. “My ideas will get a
hearing?”

“Of course. I put it in Voltaire’s hands to be arbitrator, but he will
hear all you have to say.” He almost smiled at the dismay and then
friendly promise of revenge that crossed the Frenchman’s face,
only to vanish behind his usual smile.