“You were wounded, sir,” William reminded him.
“Well, what if I was? I shed my blood for this kingdom in Parthenia Province, protecting Geoffrey in Nonesuch, and what thanks did I get? I was shoved aside, given an impossible assignment by the Great River, blamed when it turned out I couldn’t do the impossible, and put out to pasture till Thraxton so totally buggered up this campaign, even Geoffrey couldn’t help but notice.”
“Er, yes, sir.” Roast-Beef William nervously coughed a couple of times, then asked, “Sir, when the southrons move on Marthasville, can we hold them out of it?”
“We have to,” Joseph said. “It’s the biggest glideway junction we have left. If we lose it, how do we move men and goods between Parthenia and the east? So we have to make the best fight we can, Lieutenant General. That’s all there is to it. We have to hold the foe away from Marthasville.” He brightened as much as a man of his temperament could. “And here comes a man who will help us do it. Good day to you, Lieutenant General Bell!” He bowed to the approaching wing commander.
“Good day, sir.” Bell’s voice was deep and slow. His approach was even slower. He stayed upright only with the aid of two crutches and endless determination. He’d lost a leg leading soldiers forward in the fight by the River of Death, and he’d had his left arm crippled in the northern invasion of the south only a couple of months before that. Using the crutches was torment, but staying flat on his back was worse for him.
“How are you feeling today, Lieutenant General?” Joseph asked solicitously.
“It hurts,” Bell replied. “Everything hurts.”
Joseph the Gamecock nodded. He recalled Bell from the days before he’d got hurt, when the dashing young officer had made girls sigh all through the north. Some called Bell the Lion God come to earth. With his long, full, dark beard and his fiercely handsome features, he’d lived up to the name. He’d also lived up to it with his style of fighting. He’d thrown himself and his men at the southrons and broken them time and again.