The Shadows of God - J. Gregory Keyes [109]
That was greeted with silence, for no one could say, really, that they trusted the tsar against troops that were in part Russian. Finally Philippe said, “But of course, sir, it would be my honor if you would ride with the French.”
“No.” They all turned to Charles. His fingers had gone white, gripping his glass. “No. Let him ride with me.”
They all stared at him, as he turned with deliberation to the tsar. “If you fear it, I swear to you this is no ruse to put you in front of my gun. I need not resort to that—I know, as do you, that if we duel with swords I will win. I am far the better swordsman, and God is also on my side. No contest of arms between us can be fair. So this is my challenge to you, sir. We shall face the guns of the enemy side by side and—as you say—we shall let the enemy settle our differences. In the meantime, it will give me great pleasure that you see my soldiers—who have undergone such misery on your account—for the incomparable warriors that they are, and that you should ride with them against the same men who once fought for you. One of us must live, and one of us must die—that seems certain. I am content to let God choose.”
The tsar looked down at his wineglass, and a slow smile spread across his face. “That is a challenge worthy of a tsar,” he said. “And it is to my liking.”
And so they all drank to that, and Oglethorpe knew for a fact that the world would never see such a thing again. They belonged to another age, these men: an age of titans. Whatever happened, their epoch was past, and they knew it.
As Oglethorpe predicted, by morning the lines were more or less drawn. The German company and other Indian-style fighters had done what they could to slow the advancing troops, but sooner or later—as they once said in Holland— the water reaches the dike.
The dike around New Paris was the series of redoubts, protected by devil guns, a zone of unbreathable air created by yet more Franklin devices, some new inventions that were supposed to halt the worst of the diabolic weapons if they ever came to bear—and themselves, the army of the continent.
It was a dike that would not hold for long. It was too long and thin, with too many holes in it. Once it was breached, there would be nothing for it but to fall back to New Paris itself.
Oglethorpe had no intention of letting that happen. He met with the other commanders the next morning.
“’Twill take them a few days, at best, to cut through our line somewhere. When they have us all forced back to New Paris, they'll emplace their long-range guns and pound the city to bits. They may even grow bold enough to put their airships high over the city and drop grenados.”
“I doubt it,” Peter said. “The lesson of Venice is still remembered in Russia.”
“Granted, but they seem in a desperate hurry in this matter, so they may try it. Even foundered, a fully laden airship crashing into New Paris would wreak plenty of havoc.”
“Still I doubt it. Mademoiselle de Montchevreuil and her companions tell me the devil's army lost the bulk of their airships battling her and the Choctaw. They will protect those that remain.”
“You may be right,” Oglethorpe conceded. “Indeed, though I raised the question, I am counting on that being the case. After unloading artillery, the airships withdrew some two leagues from here, where they are grounded, presumably from fear that we might manage—as we have in the past—to slip close with a devil gun. I propose that those ships should be the target of a powerful and decisive attack. Once we have wrecked them, we'll have cut their supply line. We can then clean up any devils who remain in the field.”
“How are we to do that?” Charles asked. “Suppose we mass and strike for their ships. How can we keep them on the ground? As we fight our way to them, they will simply fly away—that is their beauty, as mobile fortresses.”
“I've asked some people to speak on that,” Oglethorpe replied. He raised his voice. “If it would please the lady and gentlemen