We had dinner together in a crowded, noisy tavern at a table by the window as far from the bar as possible. Unfortunately, that wasn't very far. Our men gave good custom, but there certainly were a lot of them!

"You can tell me what you're doing," Corbineau said, "And not worry about being overheard. I can barely hear you myself!"

"What I'm doing?" I glanced around the tavern, hoping the barmaid would hurry. I was hungry.

He gave me a skeptical look. "Come on now, Elza. If you're not here for the Marshal, am I to believe you've come for the sea air?"

I took a deep breath. It was time for the cover story. "I'm here at the invitation of Marshal Lannes."

"Oh please!" Corbineau laughed. "Lannes is not your type at all! And the way you looked at the Marshal…." He waved exuberantly to attract the barmaid's attention. "I don't believe for a second you're here for Lannes."

At that moment Colonel Subervie pushed his way through the crowd, his scabbard banging into random diners. "Madame St. Elme, I wanted to tell you that your things are being put in Topaze House." He gave Jean-Baptiste a nod. "Good evening, Corbineau."

"Hello, Subervie," Corbineau said. "Care to join us for dinner?"

"Do you two know each other?" I asked. It was all beginning to seem a small and incestuous club.

"Of course we do," Subervie said.

"We're close as brothers," Corbineau expanded. He caught the look on Subervie's face and grinned. "All right, close as distant cousins. Exceptionally distant cousins who only see one another on holidays."

"We're both part of the School of War," Subervie supplied. "What was it we were teamed up for last?"

"Pharsalus," Corbineau said. "And a misery that was. I had Pompey's heavy cavalry. Might as well shoot myself right off. Gervais got to be with Caesar."

"I played the Eighth Augusta Legion," Subervie said. "It was a good game. Jomini ran Caesar himself and Ney took Pompey. But Pompey's in so deep he can't really win that one."

"The Marshal says it's important to learn how to lose," Corbineau said. "And admittedly it wasn't a total rout, like the real Pharsalus was."

Subervie winced. "I try to avoid losing, myself."

"Yes, well," Corbineau said. "Tomorrow it's Carrhae. There's no joy in that for anyone. Not either of us, anyway. Maybe for the Parthians. Who's playing Parthian anyhow?"

"Reille's the Parthian horse archers," Subervie replied. "Don't know who else has what. I suppose we'll see at nine. So don't stay out too late drinking with the lady!" He looked at me sideways, as if trying to decide if he was onto something or not.

"What do you learn by fighting these ancient battles?" I asked. "Surely this was a long time ago. They didn't have rifles or cannon, so how can this help?"

"The strategies of war stay the same," Corbineau said. "It's like a chess game. The capabilities of each piece may change over the centuries, but the game itself doesn't. The tactics don't. There's not a centimeter of distance between our flying wedge and Alexander the Great's."

"But the Persians didn't have riflemen in square," I pointed out.

"They had horse archers," Subervie rumbled, still standing in the aisle beside my chair. "Persian horse archers could fire at six times the rate of modern infantry, and at nearly twice the range. Also, because they were mounted they were more mobile. Modern infantry is more like hoplites in terms of their mobility and their ability to change facing." He shrugged, as though he had suddenly remembered who I was. "But that's a rather technical explanation for a lady. I apologize."

Corbineau snorted. "Don't apologize to her! My dear sister is a veritable Amazon! You should have seen her at Apfing. I turned about in the middle of it, and there she was with her saber sticking out of a man's breastbone, trying to get the point loose without breaking her wrist. I think Madame can comprehend our poor simulations."