The Starbuck Chronicles: The Complete 4-Book Collection. Bernard Cornwell

a brief time the Northern newspapers had hailed Faulconer as a precursor of Southern enlightenment, a reputation that had made him bitterly unpopular in his native Virginia, but his neighbors’ animosity had died away when Faulconer had refused to encourage other Southerners to follow his example. He claimed the decision had been purely personal. Now, the furor long in his past, Faulconer smiled at Starbuck. ‘Just what are we going to do with you, Nate?’

      ‘You’ve done enough, sir,’ Starbuck said, though in reality he was hoping that far more might yet be done. ‘What I must do, sir, is find work. I have to repay Major Trabell.’

      Faulconer smiled at Starbuck’s earnestness. ‘The only work around here, Nate, is common soldiering, and I don’t think that’s a trade to pay off debts in a hurry. No, I think you’d better raise your sights a little higher.’ Faulconer was taking an obvious enjoyment in solving Starbuck’s problem. He smiled, then gestured about the lavishly appointed room. ‘Maybe you’d consider staying here, Nate? With me? I’m in need of someone who can be my private secretary and do some purchasing as well.’

      ‘Sir!’ Ethan Ridley sat bolt upright on the sofa, his irate tone betraying that the job being offered to Starbuck was one Ridley considered his own.

      ‘Oh come, Ethan! You detest clerking for me! You can’t even spell!’ Faulconer chided his future son-in-law gently. ‘Besides, with the guns purchased, your main job’s done. At least for the moment.’ He sat thinking for a few seconds, then clicked his fingers. ‘I know, Ethan, go back to Faulconer County and start some proper recruiting. Beat the drum for me. If we don’t raise the county, someone else will, and I don’t want Faulconer County men fighting for other Virginia regiments. Besides, don’t you want to be with Anna?’

      ‘Of course I do, sir.’ Though Ridley, offered this chance to be close to his betrothed, seemed somewhat less than enthusiastic.

      Washington Faulconer turned back to Starbuck. ‘I’m raising a regiment, Nate, a legion. The Faulconer Legion. I’d hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, I’d hoped common sense would prevail, but it seems the North wants a fight and, by God, we’ll have to give them one if they insist. Would it offend your loyalties to help me?’

      ‘No, sir.’ That seemed an entirely inadequate response, so Starbuck imbued his voice with more enthusiasm. ‘I’d be proud to help you, sir.’

      ‘We’ve made a beginning,’ Faulconer said modestly. ‘Ethan has been buying equipment and we’ve found our guns now, as you heard, but the paperwork is already overwhelming. Do you think you can handle some correspondence for me?’

      Could Starbuck handle correspondence? Nathaniel Starbuck would have done all Washington Faulconer’s correspondence from that moment until the seas ran dry. Nathaniel Starbuck would do whatever this marvelous, kind, decent and carelessly generous man wanted him to do. ‘Of course I can help, sir. It would be a privilege.’

      ‘But, sir!’ Ethan Ridley tried one last patriotic protest. ‘You can’t trust military affairs to a Northerner.’

      ‘Nonsense, Ethan! Nate’s stateless! He’s an outlaw! He can’t go home, not unless he goes to jail, so he’ll just have to stay here. I’m making him an honorary Virginian.’ Faulconer bestowed a bow on Starbuck in recognition of this elevated status. ‘So welcome to the southland, Nate.’

      Ethan Ridley looked astonished at his future father-in-law’s quixotic kindness, but Nathaniel Starbuck did not care. He had fallen on his feet, his luck had turned clean round, and he was safe in the land of his father’s enemies. Starbuck had come South.