“Confession time, boys,” George said, clearing the board of the winnings and losses. “What are your real birthdays? You first, Mouse.”

“October 12, 1902.”

“How about you, Eton?”

“December 6, 1901.”

“I’ve got you by five months,” George said. “Mine’s July 24, 1901. At least that’s what Miss Wachonick at the orphanage claimed it was. For all I know, I could be older than Bagger.”

“No one’s older than Bagger,” Charlie said.

Thomas laughed. It felt almost normal, but the moment of joy was quickly replaced by guilt. He shouldn’t be playing games or laughing. He should be looking for his brother.

George collected the dice and dropped them in the leather cup while the boys placed new bets. “Bagger claiming to be under forty years old is almost as believable as Thomas claiming to be eighteen. Fess up, Tommy. What’s your birthday? And don’t give us that line you tried on the recruiting officer at Trafalgar Square.” George stood up from his chair, squared his shoulders, and gave a crooked salute. “Timothy Bennett. March the first, 1602, sir.”

Everyone but Thomas laughed. “My birthday’s May 17, 1903.”

“May 17?” Frederick retrieved his notebook and opened to the page he’d been writing on when George called him over. He pointed to the top right corner. “That’s today!”

“Tommy! It’s your birthday?”

Thomas shrugged. “I guess. It’s hard to keep track of days down here.”

“Happy birthday, Thomas,” Charlie said.

Frederick quickly calculated the numbers in his head. “You’re fourteen today.”

“Not so loud,” Thomas said, his eyes darting to the doorway.

“Just think, Tommy,” George said with a wink. “In four short years, you’ll be eligible to join the army!”

The boys laughed again.

“Shut up and roll,” Thomas said, unable to hold back a smile.

With a flick of his wrist, George tossed the dice onto the table. “Now that we’ve established that I am the oldest of our little crew, I believe that means I outrank you all.”

Frederick shook his head. “That’s not how seniority in the military works.”

George passed Charlie three pence for his winning bet and collected the others’ losses. “Maybe not for the common soldier, but we’re not common soldiers, are we?” He shook the dice with a mischievous smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “We’re secret soldiers. We make our own rules, and I rule that as oldest, I deserve a promotion.”

“What kind of promotion?” Charlie asked. “Officer commanding?”

“No, I was thinking higher than OC.”

“How much higher?” Thomas asked. “Commanding officer?”

George drummed his fingers on the table. “CO George does have a nice ring to it, but as the oldest of our crew, I deserve the highest rank.”

“Field marshal?” Frederick asked.

“I was thinking more along the lines of king.”

“King George?” Frederick chuckled. “Britain already has one of those, and I don’t think he’ll be abdicating his throne to you.”

“King George the Fifth can keep his throne and rule aboveground. I’ll rule beneath it.” George ran a hand through his ginger curls. “I’ve always thought I’d look good with a crown.”