“Do you have any supplies of gunpowder or other elder weapons?” asked Samuel.
Again, a significant look was exchanged between Jack and Mayor Sheridan. “What you are asking is a sensitive topic. One that we consider secret, to be frank,” the mayor finally admitted. He rubbed his brow, looked down at his desk, and shifted a few documents. The room fell silent. “Of course, we have plenty of the old weapons but most are just rusty curios.”
“I might be making a huge mistake…” the mayor’s voice trailed off, then he hesitantly continued. “Very well, I will share some information, but you must keep it to yourselves. Do I have your words on that?”
After hearing Don’s and Samuel’s promise to maintain confidentiality, the mayor and Jack gave a quick summary of Hightower’s grasp of ancient weapons-lore. They learned that Hightower also had armorers and was studying gunpowder. They had some store of gunpowder and a small supply of cartridges for the ancient weapons.
“Unfortunately, for many years, we have traded the ancient ammunition for expensive goods, food, and wine from the east. It is so valuable that we chose not to hoard it,” the mayor explained. “We occasionally find some in the ruins, even though they have nearly been picked clean. How I wish we had kept it all!”
“That might be enough,” urged Don. “It sounds to me that Rob could help you build some bombs with your gunpowder. They are impressive and should be enough to convince your people that a skeleton force could hold the walls against the Raiders and any other force that might slip over the Western Wall. And your levy would still stand between this town and the invasion from the north.”
“Could you leave your cannons here?” asked Jack.
Don and Samuel shook their heads. “We will need them to face the main force,” explained Samuel. “They are all that we have that we can take to the field.”
“But Stonegate has its town guns!” insisted Jack. “We have none.”
“Yes, if they work!” said Samuel. “We are not sure about that, and Steamboat’s guns are also questionable. We know that our small field cannons work, and we must have them. Surely you can understand that.”
The mayor slammed his palm on the desk. “Enough!” he growled. “You can try to build these bombs, and if they convince the people, then I might reconsider. As things stand I cannot leave this town defenseless, and that is the end of it. Jack, show these guests out.”
†
Don and Samuel found themselves back on the street. They seemed to be no closer to convincing the mayor than when they had first started. If we can’t convince Hightower, how will we possibly be able to raise a useful force? For the first time, the real possibility of failure clung to them like crows on a corpse.
“I thought our arguments were unanswerable,” muttered Samuel. “Yet we seemed to offend Sheridan every time we opened our mouths.”
“It did not go well,” agreed Don. “I think he is more afraid of losing his position than he is the Prophet’s army.”
“How can he be so stupid?” fumed Samuel. “I thought I could easily persuade him. What are we going to do now? Demonstrate the bombs, of course, but what if that does not work?”
“Wait,” said Don. “There is one thing. Why not call for a vote? We can put the case to the people. The mayor could hardly refuse.”
“No,” returned Samuel. “He very well might refuse. But it is worth a try. At least, it would be a chance. I don’t see how matters could be worse.”
“And we can enlist all our men to try to convince the people! It might just work!”
It was not easy, but finally they convinced Jack to admit them for one final discussion. The mayor grudgingly allowed them to speak but heard them thoughtfully.
Samuel presented the idea: “What I suggest is that we have a town meeting in which you can address the people and let them vote on it. They will either want to unite with the other cities, or they won’t. It’s that simple.”
The mayor nodded. “I am inclined to agree. Perhaps that is the best way to settle the matter, one way or the other. Then we can go about our business.”
“With all due respect, Lord Mayor,” said Don, “I wish it was that simple, but it’s not. I know I am repeating myself, but refusing to unite against the False Prophet, could mean the destruction of all of your cities…and total control of all of us by an evil power.”
The Mayor shook his head in resignation. “I know, but, ultimately, the best I can do is organize a public meeting to be held in the town square at mid-morning the day after tomorrow. I have also had word that the townsfolk have set up a community lunch for your men today. And your officers can dine at the local inn.”
“Yes, that reminds me,” said Don. “Our men have received some much-needed supplies which you have provided. We thank you.”
Lord Don is correct,” put in Samuel. “If that is your decision, then so be it. We will take your leave and rejoin our men. Thank you for your offer and your hospitality. We will see you mid-morning in the main town square the day after tomorrow.”
The four men shook hands as they left, each thinking their own thoughts of what the future would bring. The Mayor had seemingly done his best to listen to them, at least at the end. Don held out a small shred of hope that they could convince the people to co-operate. Hunger was gnawing at him by the time they neared the inn. Most of the troops were seated at tables set up in the square; they had finished eating and were now in a jovial mood, enjoying a few light ales. Don was pleasantly surprised at how well the townspeople had met the challenge of so many unexpected guests. Deborah ran up to greet them as they went through the door of the inn, imploring them to sit at her table with Jarrad.
“So, how did it go?” asked Jarrad, apparently anxious for any positive news.
“All will be explained after we’ve eaten,” said Don, deciding it would be better to address all the troopers together. “Just enjoy yourself until then. Who knows when another opportunity to relax will come again?”
†
After lunch, the officers were all booked into the inns on the orders of both Don and Samuel. There was, of course, not enough room for all the troopers. But every one of the men had been well fed, and some were taking turns enjoying hot baths at the bathhouse nearby. Their mood was cheerful as they were told that everyone would soon be assembled before the inn to hear an important announcement.
Deborah and Colin told them that the townsfolk had decided to invite the entire Haven force to a dance that very evening. Even now they were setting out lights on the square. Local lasses were looking forward to meeting these strange young men from the West; that much was obvious. The cold reception of the previous day seemed to be behind them, and the people seemed glad to have an excuse for a social event.
Samuel had received several messages from Blackie and learned of the Prophet’s order to renew the persecution of people of faith. The order only affected, as a practical matter, lands under the Prophet’s control. But it also seemed to be a clever way to try to pit the Eastern peoples against each other. It was the old strategy of divide and conquer.
Samuel explained, “The False Prophet intends to eradicate Christianity from the face of the earth and replace it with his religion, ‘The Church of the All-Seeing Eye.’ I think this has always been his goal, and his actions now leave little doubt. I have always suspected that this so-called church is based on one appalling core. The true object of worship is a dark angel called Lucifer who wants to replace the Most High.”
Don was not well-versed in these matters, but the overall meaning was plain enough.
They then decided to speak to the troops. After conferring, the officers ventured out onto the square and called the Haven forces to assemble. Samuel motioned to Don to address them.
“Men, you’ve done it tough the last few days, and I can be the first one t
o tell you that you all need a long hot soak in the bath-tub. And a change of clean clothes!” stated Don, relaxed after a huge meal and a few ciders. “This afternoon is time to freshen up, catch up on some sleep, and then attend the dinner dance here tonight. You all deserve a break. Our scouts tell us that General Logan and Balek Brown are moving their forces toward Steamboat. The Prophet is also terrorizing Christians with a fear campaign. But we also know that any day now they will be continuing east with an army of sixty thousand men to try to attack the cities here. That is why I insist that you take this time to recuperate and have some fun. This opportunity may never come again. Once the battle begins, it will be a fight to the finish.”
“We need more men!” yelled out Harley.
“Yes, we do,” responded Don, trying to appear confident. “There will be a vote in a couple of days, right here in Hightower. The people will decide whether to join us or not. You can all help. Go and talk to everyone in town that will listen. Tell them that their only chance to survive is to march the city levy north to join with Stonegate and the other cities and towns. Tell them what you have seen. Convince them that hiding behind these walls is suicide. We are counting on you.”
All the troops cheered in support of Don and Samuel. They seemed to be confident in their leadership. A rest was what they all needed right now, in preparation for the big battles ahead. But Don hoped they understood that they were all being given a chance to affect the outcome of the Hightower vote.
†
As the town clock rang 6 p.m. sharp, after scrubbing herself for ages in the hot tub and donning a borrowed white silk gown, Deborah entered the dining and dance room of the inn. She was early, but she wanted to catch Don before Jarrad made a claim on her—again. She had been planning this night over and over again all afternoon and even forced herself to have an hour’s beauty sleep so that she could appear fresh and relaxed.
A small cloud of doubt gathered in a corner of Deborah’s heart. Could she ever be happy with a man like Don who was not a Christ-follower? Her mentors in the underground church had always insisted that she must marry within the faith. But Don seemed more and more open to a belief in God. She had seen him reading a copy of the Gospel of John. Was that enough? She pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind.
She saw that a dinner dance might be an opportunity to finally win Don’s heart. Tonight she would look so irresistible that the memory of Rachel would fade from his mind. Although she liked Colin and loved the attention she was receiving from tall, handsome Jarrad, it was Don that she still yearned for.
She had tied her long chestnut hair up high on her head, with adornments of ribbons and flowers, in an effort to make herself look older, closer to his age. She wanted to impress Don with her femininity and charm. She’d applied some strawberry stain on her cheeks to give her some color and used an earthy ochre tint to give her lips some warmth, as well as trying to compliment the chestnut tones in her hair. She wished she was as well-endowed and rounded as Rachel, but it was a slender boyish figure she’d been given, so that was that. At least, she’d never be plump! Despite her slim frame, Deborah still looked very attractive in the silk dress which accentuated her tiny waist and hips in a flattering way. Finally pleased with her appearance, Deborah found a seat along the wall where she could see everyone who entered the room. Tonight would be the night she’d always dreamed of.
“Care for a drink, ma’am?” asked the drink-maid, carrying a tray of sparkling pink punch. “The band is arriving shortly, and dinner is a set menu that starts in an hour. Three courses!”
Deborah graciously accepted the glass of bubbly liquid, hoping that Don would arrive before Jarrad. As if in answer to her prayer, Don and Samuel appeared at the entrance together, engaged in deep conversation. They hadn’t even noticed her yet. The drink waitress pounced on them with a complimentary arrival drink and took them to a table that was booked for the troops. Realizing they were sitting down with their backs to her, Deborah had no choice other than to join them. She had planned that Don would see her, and they would have a private drink together before dinner. Already disappointed that things were not going the way she wanted, she quietly slid into a seat next to Don, just as Jarrad arrived and took the seat on the other side of her. Once again she was stuck between Don and Jarrad, without any chance of an intimate conversation with Don.
“Don’t you look lovely tonight!” commented Jarrad with sincerity. “Doesn’t she, Donald?”
Finally, Don took a look at Deborah and smiled. “Yes, you look extremely lovely tonight. I’m sure that Jarrad will ask you for the first dance, won’t you, Jarrad?”
“Most certainly,” Jarrad said. The band had already arrived and were setting up their instruments. “I believe it’s music from the days of the Elders…something they call a waltz.”
“Oh,” said Deborah, thinking quickly. “I know the waltz, and I insist that I have a dance with each of you tonight. Do you like to dance, Don?”
“Of course,” replied Don. “I think I can manage. It would be a pleasure. Looking the way you do, I’d be surprised if many don’t ask you to dance. So…I’d better get my request in early!”
Deborah giggled, a little affected by the punch, and moved her chair closer to Don, hoping neither of them noticed. She turned the hand-lettered menu over on the table which read:
Appetizer
Chicken liver pâté with salad leaves and red vinegar
Entree
Hightower Lamb Casserole with Minted peas
Dessert
Bread and Butter Pudding with Brandy Custard
{Authentic recipes from Elder Days’ Recipe Books}
“Sounds good, doesn’t it?” asked Don, noticing her closeness to him.
“It surely does,” answered Deborah, glad that he was finally making an attempt to carry a conversation.
Just then the band began to play, and as promised, Jarrad escorted her to the dance floor. He put his arm around her shoulder as they began to waltz. Closing her eyes, she pretended it was Don, wishing he was in her arms instead of Jarrad. They danced until the entrée’s arrived, after which Deborah reminded Don that it was his turn to dance with her.
“I hadn’t forgotten,” smiled Don as Deborah pulled an impatient face. “but I believe the announcer said this next dance was a jig. Do you know how to jig?”
“I don’t like the jig,” replied Deborah, realizing that a jig was danced separately with no body contact. “I much prefer the waltz…can we wait till then?”
“Why don’t we save the last dance for us—after dinner?”
Deborah smiled. The night was filled with conversation and laughter, as the troops took full advantage of their time away from the turmoil of battle. All too soon the band struck up the last waltz for the night, heralding the end to an evening of entertainment and fine food.
Don led Deborah on to the dance floor taking her gently into his arms. As she looked into his eyes she wondered what he was thinking—but she was afraid that all he could see was Rachel.
†
The town square was abuzz with people. Every resident of Hightower had come to hear what Don, Samuel, and Deborah had to say. Don had asked the weapons master, Rob, to be present in case someone had questions about the gunpowder bombs. The main square lay in the middle of town, flanked by hedges and gardens full of autumn colors. People brought blankets and flasks of water and began to seat themselves around the grassy knoll. There was a podium where people could speak, make announcements, or perform entertaining acts. Don noticed the Mayor and invited him up to the stage.
“First of all, I would like to thank the good mayor of Hightower, Mayor Sheridan, for his graciousness in organizing this meeting. We have come from the West to speak to you today about the real possibility of an attack from the army of the False Prophet. Even now their Raiders have attack
ed our forces a short ride from here. Though they were defeated, we fear that more remain.
“You all saw the demonstration of the gunpowder bombs by Haven’s weapons master, Rob, here. I hope we convinced you that even a small force could hold your walls against any force likely to come near. Remember that your men will still be forming a wall between you and the enemy, since the attack will be coming from the north.
“We have information that confirms the enemy’s intention to attack the East and seize every city, culminating in total control. He wants to build an empire, an empire of evil. The impact on all of us will be devastating. Freedom would be taken from us under his regime and any offences against him would be punishable by death. We have come to ask you to unite with us and other eastern cities which we are yet to visit. We have even asked for the support of the Diné people and the Sonora Clan from down south. As you are aware, the village of Glenwood was recently attacked, and the slaughter there was horrific. Our lady, Deborah, is with us and saw first-hand the atrocities in that place. I invite Deborah to tell you herself about what happened there.”
Deborah took center stage as she eyed the great assembly. It looked like most of Hightower was there. She nervously twisted a handkerchief in her hands, but she faltered for only a moment, and her clear voice carried over the silent crowd. “Yes, General Logan ordered a mass execution in Glenwood. The enemy army did horrific things. I am a witness.”
She paused for a moment, ashen faced, as if reliving the atrocities. “They chopped off men’s heads and ignored their cries for mercy. The once-peaceful streets drowned in the blood of unarmed civilians. They violated women and even treated children like animals. It was wanton slaughter. They burned buildings and homes. The Raiders hunted down all the farmers they could find and stole food from their dead hands. Now the False Prophet thirsts for your blood. Now his armies have their eyes fixed on this town and others of the East. We implore you: grasp what is happening and make yourselves ready. Now is the time to stand strong and defend your land.”
The False Prophet (Stonegate Book 2) Page 9
