†
The long summer day finally came to an end. The dusk was turning to darkness when Bobby and Colin brought metal plates of food and mugs of hot tea. The fare was oatmeal mixed with dried meat and simmered to a porridge. It was not Don’s favorite, but he was hungry. The problem of the Raiders occupied his thoughts. Then he remembered Deborah.
But Colin was ahead of him. The extra plate and mug he carried was for her, and he went to the tent where she had been sleeping. After a few minutes, she joined the group around the small fire, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.
“You should have awakened me earlier,” she said. “I did not need to nap the afternoon away.”
They filled her in on the recent events. She seemed relieved at the return of the party from Castle Rock with no loss of life and puzzled at the cold reception from Hightower. But Don thought she was most startled to hear about Bobby and his meddling with the wounded Raiders. She controlled her reaction well, but Don could see that she was deeply troubled. Don noticed that Bobby was also staring at her over the rim of his mug of tea. He had a calculating expression, as though he was also trying to control his emotions. There was something going on below the surface, and Don thought he knew what it was.
Samuel commented that he was going to ask Haven for another horse troop and began writing a message to Blackie. He gave the message to the pigeon keeper, then pulled Bobby aside and sent him off on an errand. Don did not hear what was said. He encouraged Deborah to finish her food. As soon as Bobby was out of earshot, she grabbed Don by the arm.
†
“Don,” she whispered, “Did you tell Samuel about Bobby?”
“Not yet, but I told him that I had important news.” Don threw a couple of sticks on the campfire, and it began to blaze more brightly.
By now, most of the men had found a spot to retire for the night. Eric, Philip and Rob, the armorer, were settled under a nearby cottonwood tree, and she was virtually alone with Don. His features looked soft in the smoke of the campfire. She noticed his blue-green eyes as he looked into hers, waiting for her to continue.
“It’s about Bobby,” she began. “Oh, Don…I think the attack this morning was set up by Bobby.”
For a moment Don said nothing. He held the sobbing Deborah in his arms as he spoke, half to himself: “Deborah, you have to be right. That attack was no coincidence. It all makes sense. Bobby was—is the traitor…A spy for the False Prophet.”
“Wait here,” Don said, tenderly. “I must bring Samuel. I want you to tell him everything that you’ve told me.”
Most of the men were sleeping now, and, thankfully, Bobby was one of them. All soldiers know that they need to take rest whenever they can. Don brought Samuel to where Deborah sat, arms around her knees, head bowed, tears slipping slowly down her cheeks.
“Now, now,” said Samuel in a father-like tone, “Don’t cry, young lady. Just tell me what you told Don. Tell me everything you saw.”
Don sat next to Deborah, comforting her as she retold the story to Samuel.
“I knew it…I knew there was a spy in our camp. I just couldn’t work out who it was. So now we have to make a plan. The best strategy is that we act as if we don’t know…and the next time that rascal slips out in the middle of the night, we’ll follow him. He will lead us straight to the Raider’s hide-out, and then we can take action.”
Don spoke after a long moment. “Yes, but remember, the Raiders may have several groups scattered around.”
“A handful is better than nothing. And it will also put a stop to Bobby’s work for the enemy.”
“Are you saying we kill him too?” asked Don.
“Far better to take him alive, so he can be questioned. There is a risk, though, that Raiders will do that themselves. They’ll think he double-crossed them.”
Don nodded in agreement. “A risk worth taking. But it will be difficult to keep close watch on him without making him suspicious.”
“Yes, but we might be able to use him to our advantage. No matter what, his value to the enemy is gone. I will never again trust him with our secret plans.”
“Really?” asked Deborah, relieved that her burden had been lifted.
Don looked over at her with tenderness in his eyes. “Deborah, you have done a courageous and extraordinary thing…following Bobby out in the middle of the cold night when you were exhausted…no ordinary woman would have done that. What you did displayed bravery of an unusual kind…especially for a woman.”
Deborah could hardly believe that these words were coming from Don, the man she loved. On the one hand, he implied that women were lacking in courage which she resented. But the way he said it was sweet and tender. Could it possibly mean that he would forget Rachel now? After all, she had left him, asking him not to follow. Surely Don could see that Rachel didn’t want him. But I do.
“Thank you, Don,’ she said softly, overlooking his unconscious slight. “That means much to me, especially coming from you.”
“I agree with Don,” said Samuel. He also seemed highly impressed with her quick thinking and resourcefulness. “What you did was truly remarkable, and we will never forget it. Your actions have most likely saved us from being outwitted at every turn. In the meantime, we must remember to treat Bobby normally so as not to arouse suspicion. Don, only alert the troops at the last minute, right as he sneaks out. That will ensure that no one can tell Bobby that we know he is a spy. This secret must remain with us…for now.”
It was a clear, starry night with a waning moon lighting up the sky. Deborah had been moving closer to Don as they sat in front of the fire; after all, she had come along because she wanted time with him to help him forget about Rachel. But Don did not seem to notice.
“Certainly! I agree. Now let’s call it a night,” said Don, apparently noticing that Deborah was stifling a yawn. “We need an early start tomorrow. Deborah, you need some sleep tonight, and Samuel and I will catch some intermittent sleep as we take turns being on watch…in case our young spy absconds again tonight.”
Chapter 8
†
Hightower
Plans fail when there is no counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.
Proverbs 15:22 HCSB
Don led a small party through the city gate, which the guards had now opened, and made his way through the high street of cobbled pavestones up to the same inn that they had visited previously. Deborah had not seen it before but had heard that it served excellent food.
“Samuel and I will meet with the mayor. As it is high on noon, I suggest you all find food and refreshments in the inn. We will join you, post-haste. Jarrad, could you and Colin escort Deborah?” asked Don.
Deborah frowned, feeling a tug of the bond she’d recently built with Don. But she realized that talking to the mayor was going to be seen as men’s work. Since she liked Colin’s and Jarrad’s company, though not as much as Don’s, she allowed them to take her inside. But when they came to a small table, Colin excused himself and went to join Eric and Philip.
The inn was buzzing with music and laughter and the smell of fine food filled the air. Unlike the inns of the West, this one had a comprehensive menu to choose from, with delicacies that Deborah had never tasted. There was fish head stew with potato croquettes and something called baguettes, as well as smoked eel and coriander salad.
Jarrad seemed excited that there was a pig’s head on the menu as well as trotters and chicken feet. Deborah had never heard of some of the exotic creations, especially crumbed brains and chicken livers in white wine sauce on a bed of fragrant rice. It was a whole different world here. Even the wine list had a huge selection. She felt momentarily transported to a different place. Jarrad ordered something for them both—a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc dry white wine, a recipe from the Elder days.
“I dare you to order someth
ing unusually exotic to eat…something you’ve never had before. How about blood pudding or creamed kidney and beef pie?”
“Oooh, Jarrad, I don’t think so,” she giggled, realizing that the first sip of this new wine had gone straight to her head. Those suggestions sounded disgusting. “I like the sound of the seafood hot-pot full of clams, mussels, fish, onion, garlic, and broth…with a hot freshly baked cob of bread.”
“That sounds nice, but I would love to try the pig’s head spiced with ginger and cloves, followed by some sweet chicken feet in black sauce with rice.”
As she sipped on the wine and delicately ate her meal, Deborah had a growing sense of relaxation. The wine was playing with her senses, making her feel uninhibited and even romantic. Jarrad was never serious and a perfect lunch companion. But she was counting the minutes until Don returned.
†
Don could not read Mayor Sheridan’s face. Even his body language seemed neutral as Samuel carefully, logically listed the compelling reasons to reform the Old Alliance. When Samuel concluded, Don fully expected the mayor to agree, at least in principle. Instead, he turned to Don.
“You haven’t said much, Lore-man,” he said. “Do you have anything to add? Why not explain why we should send our levy north and leave our walls unguarded.”
“It is simple arithmetic,” returned Don. “I am not sure how many men you could raise, but a few thousand men could not defend this city against the force that approaches. Your only chance is to unite.”
“That is a bit hard to accept, and I mean no offense,” the mayor replied. “Yesterday you told me that Ariel and Bethuel did not combine forces, yet they both beat off a determined attack Why should we do what they refused to do?”
Don’s face grew warm. This is going to be harder than I expected. “I see what you mean,” he began. “I could explain how the gunpowder weapons made a difference. I could admit that their failure to join forces was a poor military decision, but—”
Samuel quietly touched Don’s arm and broke in. “I think I see where Don is going with this,” he said. “But before we follow his train of logic, let me point out that the strategic situation was entirely different.”
“How so?” demanded the mayor. His attitude was decidedly cooler, and he crossed his arms and pulled his chin close to his chest. Don had a sinking feeling. This is not working!
“Ariel and Bethuel were never the objective of the Prophet’s campaign,” explained Samuel. “We were only to be a training exercise. Their timetable must have only allowed them a few days to subdue us. You and the other eastern cities were always their target.”
“This makes no sense to me. What does that matter?”
“The main point is this. All we had to do was put up a good fight—good enough to convince General Logan to move on, keep his timetable, and deal with us later. We did not really defeat him, you see.”
Don broke in. “You have a more difficult problem. You are his objective. He can take as much time as he wants to crush you. And it bears repeating. We were faced only with General Logan’s army, the southern force, now twenty thousand strong, after his losses.”
Samuel concluded: “The northern force adds another thirty thousand, not counting the cavalry. Do you think you could defend against a force of that size?”
“How do I know that any of this is true?” snapped the mayor. It sounded more like a snarl than a question. “You both have ties to Stonegate who are no friends of ours. Maybe this is all a cock-and-bull story to frighten me into fighting Stonegate’s war. You did say that all of these supposed enemy are heading in their direction, didn’t you?”
Don and Samuel looked at each other, for a long moment. Their momentum seemed lost. Don tried again. “I am of Goldstone, actually. I have spent less than six months in Stonegate and left under…well, under a cloud. Believe me, I am not saying anything different to you than I would to Stonegate. This army must be met and defeated by a united force, or it will not be defeated at all.”
“If that is true, where is the army from Haven?”
“What do you mean?” asked Samuel, as if the question surprised him.
“I mean that your logic would apply to Haven as well. Ariel, Bethuel, and the surrounding villages could probably raise a force nearly as strong as we could. And they have recent battle experience. If your counsel is so wise and compelling, why did they not mobilize and send levies to join with ours? Actions speak louder than words!” The mayor sat back in his chair, with a bit of a smug smile, as though he thought that he had made an unanswerable point. He looked at Jack and gave a small nod.
How do we answer that? thought Don. Why did we not foresee this? He is right. Our words seem pitiful, weak without a mobilized force at our back.
“Your point is good,” said Samuel at last, shoulders slumped. “We did point this out to the leaders of both cities. I told them so again and again. But they were faced with a force of a thousand or so infantry that General Logan had left behind to try to secure his supply line, as well as a hundred or so Raiders. They probably feared that another force could move up the river from Junction at any time. So the one horse troop and the three small cannons were as much as they were willing to send. It was a serious mistake. Perhaps I should have fought harder to convince them. But don’t make the same mistake that they did!”
Don hastened to add, “The forces left behind are not totally wasted, however. They make it impossible for the enemy to use the southern supply route. This will hinder his campaign, and they tie up enemy forces that could otherwise come east. A small contribution, maybe, but far better than nothing.”
“Gentlemen, we seem to be arguing in circles,” said Jack. “Let us all admit that if what you say is true, that a united force would seem to be wise. But it is not as simple as that.”
“It never is,” said Samuel. His tone was curt, and Don could see that he was losing patience.
“I believe it may be difficult to form an alliance with Stonegate and Longmont,” pointed out the Mayor. “Past alliances have ended in failure and sadly, trust has disappeared along with that. I have about three hundred trained guardsmen that are under military command. If I order them north to Stonegate, they will obey orders and go. I could organize a small cavalry force to act as scouts, perhaps another hundred.”
“But that is pitifully few,” objected Don. “Castle Rock, a tiny village, has already sent twenty mounted men. They saw the danger and responded well. And, by the way, they have already proved themselves. They bested a force of Raiders in the field, only a few miles from here.”
The mayor sat in silence for a long moment, mouth hanging open. He glared at Jack. “Why is this the first time I have heard of any of this? There are Raiders in my back yard, and I was not even informed?” Jack sat in stunned silence.
The mayor turned back to Samuel and Don, his face scarlet. “And what do you think you are doing? Going to nearby villages and frightening people without speaking to me first? That is outrageous! Who do you think you are? You have no right to start mobilizing without my authority. I have half a mind to charge you with sedition!”
Samuel raised his hand. “Stop and think a moment!” he commanded. “Only the enemy wins if we quarrel. I see it would indeed have been better to have discussed this with you first, to get your assessment of the local situation.”
“It certainly would,” returned Mayor Sheridan, somewhat less heatedly.
“But you are mayor of Hightower, are you not? You don’t dictate what nearby villages do. Am I right about that?” Samuel paused, looking the mayor in the eye.
“Technically, yes,” smoothly put in Jack. “Yet we do have alliances with them, and they look to us for leadership. We would be very distressed if anyone upset our arrangements.”
Once again we have offended him. Don began to wonder what else could possibly
go wrong. The discussion about the Raiders and the plans for recruiting went on for some time, until, finally, all parties seemed to grudgingly accept the situation.
“As I started to say,” continued the mayor, “I could command the small organized units to march north. But mobilizing the town levy and commanding them to leave their families undefended is another matter entirely. This goes against all of our customs and traditions.”
“At least, since the days of the Old Alliance,” quickly put in Jack.
“Well, yes. Since then, in our father’s day.”
“Or grandfather’s day,” quipped Jack. That brought a small chuckle from the mayor.
“Why I have a brat like you helping me is sometimes more than I can understand…But forgive me, gentlemen. Your question deserves a serious answer. Hightower could raise a levy of perhaps ten thousand, if we pressed every able-bodied man into service. But every one of them conceives the job of the levy as defenders of the walls. Finding weapons for them would be a problem. But a bigger problem would be in convincing them to march north.”
“Why could you not simply order them to do so?” asked Don.
“What would stop them from calling for an election and voting a new mayor into my place?” asked Mayor Sheridan. “They could do so and be within the law. They would have to be convinced, and that is the end of it.”
“What could we do?” mused Samuel.
“Somehow, they need to be convinced that their families would be safe. But I don’t see how we could do that. We could leave some boys and old men behind, but that would be a feeble force, at best.”
“I have a thought,” said Don. “We did bring three cannon, and samples of our gunpowder bombs. We have one of Ariel’s most skilled armorers with us, a man named Rob. He could possibly help you to fabricate some of your own. They are excellent defensive weapons, as we explained.”
The False Prophet (Stonegate Book 2) Page 8
