The Killer Angels - Michael Shaara [7]
The little man was there: a soggy spectacle on a pale and spattered horse. He sat grinning wanly from under the floppy brim of a soaked and dripping hat. Lightning flared behind him; he touched his cap.
“Your servant, General. May I come down?”
Longstreet nodded. The guard backed off. Longstreet told Sorrel to get some coffee. The spy slithered down from the horse and stood grinning foolishly, shivering, mouth slack with fatigue.
“Well, sir—” the spy chuckled, teeth chattering “—you see, I was able to find you after all.”
Longstreet sat at the camp table on a wet seat, extracted a cigar, lighted it. The spy sat floppily, mouth still open, breathing deeply.
“It has been a long day. I’ve ridden hard all this day.”
“What have you got?”
“I came through the pickets at night, you know. That can be very touchy.”
Longstreet nodded. He watched, he waited. Sorrel came with steaming coffee; the cup burned Longstreet’s fingers. Sorrel sat, gazing curiously, distastefully at the spy.
The spy guzzled, then sniffed Longstreet’s fragrant smoke. Wistfully: “I say, General, I don’t suppose you’ve got another of those? Good Southern tobacco?”
“Directly,” Longstreet said. “What have you got?”
“I’ve got the position of the Union Army.”
Longstreet nodded, showing nothing. He had not known the Union Army was on the move, was within two hundred miles, was even this side of the Potomac, but he nodded and said nothing. The spy asked for a map and began pointing out the positions of the corps.
“They’re coming in seven corps. I figure at least eighty thousand men, possibly as much as a hundred thousand. When they’re all together they’ll outnumber you, but they’re not as strong as they were; the two-year enlistments are running out. The First Corps is here. The Eleventh is right behind it. John Reynolds is in command of the lead elements. I saw him at Taneytown this morning.”
“Reynolds,” Longstreet said.
“Yes, sir.”
“You saw him yourself?”
The spy grinned, nodded, rubbed his nose, chuckled. “So close I could touch him. It was Reynolds all right.”
“This morning. At Taneytown.”
“Exactly. You didn’t know any of that, now did you, General?” The spy bobbed his head with delight. “You didn’t even know they was on the move, did ye? I thought not. You wouldn’t be spread out so thin if you knowed they was comin’.”
Longstreet looked at Sorrel. The aide shrugged silently. If this was true, there would have been some word. Longstreet’s mind moved over it slowly. He said: “How did you know we were spread out?”
“I smelled it out.” The spy grinned, foxlike, toothy. “Listen, General, I’m good at this business.”
“Tell me what you know of our position.”
“Well, now I can’t be too exact on this, ’cause I aint scouted you myself, but I gather that you’re spread from York up to Harrisburg and then back to Chambersburg, with the main body around Chambersburg and General Lee just ’round the bend.”
It was exact. Longstreet thought: if this one knows it, they will know it. He said slowly, “We’ve had no word of Union movement.”
The spy bobbed with joy. “I knew it. Thass why I hurried. Came through that picket line in the dark and all. I don’t know if you realize, General—”
Sorrel said coldly, “Sir, don’t you think, if this man’s story was true, that we would have heard something?”
Sorrel did not approve of spies. The spy grimaced, blew. “You aint exactly on friendly ground no more, Major. This aint Virginia no more.”
True, Longstreet thought. But there would have been something. Stuart? Longstreet said, “General Stuart’s cavalry went out a few days back. He hasn’t reported any movement.”
The spy shrugged, exasperated, glooming at Sorrel. Sorrel turned his back, looked at his fingernails.
Longstreet said, “What have you heard of Stuart?”
“Not much. He’s riding in the north somewhere. Stirring up headlines and fuss, but I never heard him do any real