“Why?” Delaney asked, then hastily added, “I’m curious, sir,” in case the General thought he was challenging his decision.

Lee shrugged. “We invaded the North, Delaney. Are we to slink away with nothing accomplished?”

“We captured Harper’s Ferry, sir,” Delaney pointed out.

“So we did, so we did, but we set out to do a great deal more. We came north, Delaney, to inflict hurt on the enemy and that we still have to do. I had planned to inflict that pain well north of here, but I confess General McClellan has surprised me, so now I must hurt him here rather than on the Susquehanna. But here or there, what matters is to hurt him so badly that the North cannot invade us again, and Europe will see that we can defend ourselves and are thus worthy of their support. Hurt them once, Delaney, and there’s a chance we’ll not have to inflict pain again, but if we just slip away then McClellan will follow and we shall have to fight him on our own soil. And poor Virginia has suffered enough, God knows.” The general spoke softly, rehearsing his arguments out loud, and always conscious that Belvedere Delaney carried weight in Richmond’s political circles. If things went badly in the next few hours then it would be as well to have a man like Delaney retailing the general’s motives to the Confederacy’s leaders.

“McClellan outnumbers us,” Delaney said, unable to hide his nervousness.

“He does indeed, but he always has,” Lee answered dryly, “though this time, I confess, his preponderance is significant. We guess he has eighty thousand men. We have less than twenty.” He paused, smiling at the outrageous imbalance. “But Jackson’s men are marching toward us. We might line up thirty thousand against him.”

“Thirty?” Delaney was appalled at the odds.

Lee chuckled. “Poor Delaney. You really would be happier in Richmond, I think? It would do you no dishonor to leave us. Your work here is surely done?”

Better than you know, Delaney thought, but answered instead with a quotation from Shakespeare. “’The fewer men, the greater share of honor.”

Lee smiled, recognizing Shakespeare’s line from Henry V. “A few men beat a great army in that battle,” he said, “and I do know one thing about these men.” He gestured with a bandaged hand at his ragged troops in their bivouacs. “They are the best fighting men, Delaney, that this poor world has ever seen. They make me feel humble. Wars might be won by strategy, but battles are won by morale, and if you and I, my friend, should live to be a hundred we shall never see troops as good as these. McClellan is nervous of them, very nervous, and tomorrow he has to attack them and he will do it gingerly. And if he is as cautious as I expect, then we shall have a chance to tear his army into pieces.”

Delaney shuddered at the thought of battle. “He hasn’t been cautious these last few days, sir,” he said warningly.