Company K crashed out of line, advancing down the hill. Truslow, squat and dark-faced, did not look left or right, but paced ahead with his deliberate, countryman’s stride. Captain Roswell Jenkins, the company’s commanding officer, galloped after the company, but his remonstrance to Truslow was utterly ignored. We came here to fight, Truslow seemed to be saying, so for God’s sake, let us get off our butts and fight.

Captain Murphy, commanding D Company, looked questioningly at Starbuck. Starbuck nodded, and the simple confirmation was enough for Murphy. “Company D!” he shouted, and the men did not even wait for the order to advance, but just started after Truslow’s men. The rest of the Legion edged forward. Sergeant Major Proctor looked wildly up at Adam, who shrugged, while Major Bird, at last seeing his orders obeyed, stirred the laggards into motion.

Ridley turned his horse wildly, looking for allies, but the Faulconer Legion was marching west, led by a sergeant, and the officers were left to catch up with their men. Starbuck himself, who had precipitated the move northward, now turned away to shout at Adam. “Where’s my coat?”

Adam pushed his horse through the bandsmen, who were making a cacophony of thumps and squawks as they hurried to catch up with the advancing Legion. “Nate!” Adam sounded distressed. “What have you done?”

“I told you. The federals are coming round our rear. Do you know where my jacket is?” Starbuck had dismounted beside Joe Sparrow’s dead body. He picked up Sparrow’s rifle and tugged off the dead boy’s belt with its canteen, cartridge box and cap box.

“What are you doing?” Adam asked.

“Arming myself. I’ll be damned if I spend the rest of this day without a gun. People are killing each other here.” Starbuck meant the words as a grim joke, but their flippancy made him sound hard.

“But Father sent you home!” Adam protested.

Starbuck turned a bitter face on his friend. “You can’t dictate my loyalty, Adam. Work out your own, but leave me mine.”

Adam bit his lip, then twisted in his saddle. “Nelson! Bring Mister Starbuck’s coat and weapons!”