Marshall Blake released Philip and Rowan and told them to go with Wesley. The town was in chaos, and fighting had broken out in the streets. Some townspeople were even fighting on the side of the Prophet’s forces, adding to the confusion. The sound of women and children screaming filled the air as some of the advancing forces turned aside and began sacking the houses. Philip saw confused scenes of slaughter unfold before his eyes as they struggled toward Wesley’s home. A man threw down his spear and raised his hands in surrender, just before he was cut down. Another fell toward, stabbed in the back as he tried to run. Philip managed to shoot down six enemy spearmen with his rifle, but it was only a gesture. His feet slipped in dark pools of blood in the streets and red flames reached to the sky as the enemy gained entry to the town center. The sound of his gun-fire and clashing swords gave the scene a surreal atmosphere, and for a moment, Philip thought he had to be dreaming. So many lives lost to the enemy!
A dozen Steamboat soldiers followed them, and they all managed to reach Wesley’s home. Philip mounted his mare, and Rowan helped hitch a team to a waiting carriage. Barbara Fletcher had the carriage loaded, and all that was necessary was for her and her maid, Polly, to join Wesley on the seat. The horses drew them out of the yard and into the street. They joined the throngs trying to escape the advancing enemy, but the soldiers managed to force a way through the crowds, and they were at last able to exit the city walls.
In the firelight, Barbara had seen crying children standing helplessly, separated from their parents. She demanded that Wesley stop whenever she saw one and gathered them up. In this way, the carriage finally bore eight tiny refugees, seated on top of their baggage. They joined a line of terrified people, all with nothing in their minds but flight. In this way, hundreds were able to make an early escape, mostly those that had horses and wagons, though some who were young and healthy fled on foot. Philip saw many men walking beside horses which bore their wives and children. Others had loaded wounded on wagons, and their groans could be heard as the sound of battle receded behind them.
The darkness helped their retreat, of course. But the strange absence of enemy cavalry and the fact that the enemy assault forces had concentrated on the western wall of the city were the main things that made the escape possible. A few Raiders did appear, dimly seen in the moonlight, but armed Steamboat horsemen were able to hold them off. And so a long column of terrified people began heading south down the ancient highway that would eventually lead east in the direction of Stonegate.
Philip looked back in horror as Steamboat lay defeated, smoke and flames lighting the northern sky from the homes and buildings of what was once a glorious city. He knew that by morning Steamboat would be in ruins, with those alive either in slavery or weeping from afar. He did not know how many had escaped with their lives, but losses were heavy. The Prophet’s army had done its dirty work, and he was afraid that Stonegate would be next.
If the darkness hid their retreat from the enemy, it also frustrated Wesley’s attempts to organize the refugee column. He sent Philip back down the line to try to find who was in charge of the rear guard. Philip threaded his way to the rear, swerving to avoid the shadowy, desperate people, and saw the shape of a rider giving orders. He realized that it was Marshall Blake.
“Marshall Blake,” he called. “Is that you?”
“Young Philip,” came the answer. “It is, indeed. Where is Wesley? Did he escape?”
“He did and is trying to organize. How many soldiers are with you?”
“Well, our losses were heavy, and we had many of the levy desert to try to help their families, but I still have perhaps two hundred foot troops here with me. The gun crews made it out, and the mounted soldiers are screening to the rear. There has been no organized pursuit.”
“What can we do to help these people? I see many who have fallen by the roadside.”
“We have been loading some on our ammunition wagons. But we have to order everyone to do the same. Pass the word that it will go hard with anyone with space on their wagons who refuses to help those who can walk no more!”
Philip turned his mount and began ordering drivers to make room for anyone whom they could help. Several mounted officers joined him, and they began to search for anyone who had fallen or were unable to go any farther. As dawn began to break, the tail of the column had finally reached the base of the mountain, about nine miles south of the city, where the road began a steep climb. The fifty mounted soldiers searched back along the roadside. Anyone they found were ferried up to be placed on any conveyance that had room. Mounted Raiders lurked behind them like scavengers and sometimes exchanged bowshots with the rear guard. Anyone they had overtaken in the night had been killed without mercy.
Philip made his way up toward the front of the slow-moving train of refugees and met Wesley riding back to meet him. He had obviously commandeered a mount from someone.
“Hello, Philip,” he said. “Does your mount have some miles left in her?”
“She is tired,” answered Philip, “But not exhausted. What do you need?
“This column is strung out for miles. Those that have lightly loaded wagons, or riders on fast horses, are leaving the slower ones far behind. We need to warn them that danger also lies ahead. We also need some armed riders to form an advance guard.”
Philip nodded. This sounded sensible. Wesley continued: “I will try to get things a bit more organized. Go and find Marshall Blake and have him detach twenty mounted troopers to act as advance guard. Tell him to try to convince those far out in front to hold up. We can’t protect them if they leave the main body.”
Philip did as he was told, and, by the time he met up again with Wesley, he was passed by a party of armored men, galloping toward the head of the line. He passed Barbara and Polly and their pitiful group of frightened children. An unfamiliar soldier was driving their carriage, and they both managed to wave, though they could not find the strength to smile. Rowan rode next to them, protectively.
Philip and Wesley found a group of about one hundred who had pulled off onto a wide spot to rest their horses. Huddled together, the refugees of Steamboat listened as Wesley took control of the group.
“My dear friends and neighbors…we are gathered here lucky to escape with our lives. Tonight we will mourn our dead, and tomorrow we will make our way toward Stonegate to ask for assistance from our other friends there. Our soldiers will try their best to fend off the enemy. Let us thank those who sacrificed. Many still lie unburied behind us. May we also thank our women who had enough good sense to pack food so that we could be nourished tonight. May God be with us through our trials and troubles.”
They delivered the same message along the way whenever they could gather a group together. The pitiful column continued on throughout the day until they became too exhausted to journey further. They finally formed into a large camp on top of the divide and fortified it as best they could.
Philip noticed that the resourceful women of Steamboat had indeed thought to bring some food to prepare a meal for the children, the men, and themselves. He noticed one large pot was bubbling over on a nearby camp-fire. He had seen a matronly woman add beans, beef, and herbs. Tea was made, and calm was restored as much as possible for the sake of the traumatized children, some of whom were still weeping in shock.
All in all, it was a devastating experience. The inner strength of the survivors impressed Philip as he thought back to the time that he was captured by the Raiders and then escaped, only to find himself homeless and starving. The memories of the massacre at Steamboat would probably forever haunt those who witnessed it. Philip was glad to be alive and thankful for the soothing effects of a hot cup of tea.
The night was cooling down quickly, and children were put to bed wrapped in shawls and coats of those who had thought to bring extra clothing with them. The moon was nearly full-round tonight as if to remind t
hem of the myth that madness erupted at the time of a full moon. Philip thought of Amber and Crispin, glad that they had escaped the battle and hoped that they had made their way safely to Stonegate. The False Prophet had shown his hand this day, and Philip feared there was much more to come.
Chapter 22
†
Time of Testing
Their arrows are sharpened,
and all their bows strung.
Their horses’ hooves are like flint;
Isaiah 5: 29a HCSB
Don sat astride Snap on a low knoll where he could see the plains stretched out to the east. They were rolling and green, clad with a low carpet of grama and buffalo grass. A few clumps of trees crouched low, hugging a small watercourse. It was perfect terrain for cavalry, and two troops were exercising below. Don’s own Blades troop was well turned out, with gear and armor cleaned and shined. Opposing them in the drill today was a Stonegate troop, the Mustangs, ready to show their skill. Don signaled to the gunners, and one gun fired a blank round to start the exercise. It also served to get the horses accustomed to the sound of gunfire.
The first objective that Don had set for the day was to demonstrate that the Blades could hold their own against a highly trained Stonegate unit. They were not using steel weapons. All the troopers were armed with wooden staves in the place of swords, and their lances had blunted tips. Even so, they were capable of bruising limbs and unhorsing riders. He knew the Blades were good—he had trained them himself, and they had been tested in battle against Raiders and the enemy heavy cavalry. He hoped they would perform well. But Stonegate troopers were said to be the best.
The second goal was to drill both troops to attack in coordination with the missile units, grenadiers, and crossbowmen, and the field artillery. He and Jenkins had worked out some concepts, and they wanted to test them in a drill. It would have been better to have used another troop or two, but all of the others were on extended patrol. That also meant that Lord Cal and Gray John could not be there. But Lore-master Duncan had finally been able to persuade Allen, Lord Marshall of Stonegate, to watch the training.
Lord Allen was in overall command of Stonegate’s defenses, but he had never shown much interest in the horse troops. He had been totally consumed with concern for the walls, the town guns, the other defensive weapons, the levy, the food supplies, and a thousand other details. Duncan had pointed out that a break from that pressure would do him good. Don was not sure exactly why, but he had suddenly agreed to ride out with them.
Now they were observing the maneuvers, and at the same time Don was trying to explain that the key to defeating the Prophet did not lie with walls, fixed guns, or defenders on battlements. These things were necessary to prevent defeat, but they were not enough to win.
He told of how Ariel and Bethuel had reluctantly formed horse troops and their feeble, stumbling steps to carry the fight to the enemy. The horse troops could not defend the walls; that was true enough. But they could make it difficult for the enemy to resupply the huge army, and they also had been able to deflect the enemy from making a direct attack on Hightower. He tried to convince his skeptical listeners that Stonegate had to fight to win and not simply try to avoid losing. This meant that, once again, they had to carry the fight to the enemy with everything they had.
The horse troops whirled and recovered. Bugles blew, pennants fluttered from lances and dust flew as the horses tore the sod. Don passed his precious binoculars to Lord Allen, who shared them with Duncan. They chuckled when the Mustang leader made a clever move and were less pleased when Slim made an equally clever counter. The latest drill showed both troops to be quite evenly matched. After about twenty minutes, the cannon fired again, the troops reformed, and they rode in columns of twos back to the top of the hill to see a lunch of field rations, and troughs of water awaiting thirsty horses.
Don’s mail armor this morning was reinforced with breast and back-plates. He wanted his appearance to make a good impression on Lord Allen and perhaps to subtly remind him that he and his men had faced the enemy before. He noticed the marshall eyeing him carefully.
Allen said, “I notice, Donald, that you and your horse troopers are somewhat more heavily armored than ours. Is there a reason for that?”
“There is,” answered Don. “We elected to add a mail chest-guard to our horses and to add plates over the trooper’s mail. We had to up-armor when we faced the enemy’s heavy cavalry armed with lances. Most of the plates the Blade troopers are wearing were captured from the enemy, as a matter of fact.”
“Does the enemy also use the same horse armor?”
“No, they are actually more heavily armored than that. Their horses have a mail skirt that also covers their flanks and hocks. But it is quite heavy, and we elected to trade protection for speed. The mail chest protector adds little weight, and it protects our mount from enemy lance thrusts.”
“I see. Perhaps we should give some thought to doing the same. But I don’t know what Lord Cal would say.”
“Why don’t we speak with some of the troopers?” suggested Duncan.
Don accompanied Duncan and Allen through the mess line where they were handed a field lunch of biscuit, sausage, and dried fruit. They sat down with a group of Mustang troopers. The younger men seemed a bit guarded, at first. But Duncan put them at ease by telling a few jokes. Soon, they were chatting freely.
“I know you all think your troop is the best,” began Duncan. “And my experience with warfare has mostly been what I have read in books. But tell me, do you think this other troop has potential?”
A somewhat cocky young trooper spoke up. “They are much better than I expected. No offense, but no one is as good as we are.”
Duncan laughed, and the others joined in. “Of course, of course. I did not expect you to say anything else. But I see that some of you have some bruises. The healers have been putting bandages on other troopers from your unit as well. Do they fight the same as you Stonegate troopers?”
“Well,” said another freckle-faced lad, “They do have an unusual style. Their sword-arms have a steel plate—on the back of their fore-arm, and they can use it like a shield. When they do that, their counter-stroke is right in your face. It caught me by surprise, I can tell you.” He pointed to a lump below his right eye. “I’m glad that was not a steel blade that hit me!”
Another trooper broke in, “Another thing they do is double-team us. They fight in pairs, you see, and try to get two against one. Seems unfair, and it is, but it works.”
“We taught them some lessons, too,” another said. “It was not all one way. I think we have had more drilling than they have, but they kept their heads well. They must be used to fighting together, and they obey those bugle commands.”
They discussed the drill with several other groups before the lunch break ended, and Don was relieved to see that his men had done well. It was obvious that the training had benefited both units, just as he had hoped. Before the afternoon session started, Don had the bugle blow Officer’s Call, and all the mount commanders joined them as well as Fitzalan, the Mustang troop leader; Jenkins, commanding the crossbows and grenadiers; Rob, commanding the guns and Slim, the Blades.
Don stood and addressed the leaders. He noticed that Lord Allen and Lore-master Duncan gave him their full attention. He said, “I think this morning’s drill was a good one. It gave good exercise to man and beast, and if some of you have bruises to show for it, I can only say this: Better bruises on the practice field than wounds on the battlefield.”
He stopped and looked around. He had their full attention and even saw some wry grins. “Before this day is out, I want you to encourage your men to talk to men from the other unit and share what advice they can. We are on the same side here. But the training and experience each unit has behind them is different. Maybe we can make both better in the battles to come. Any questio
ns?”
There was some discussion at that point, which quickly showed some differences of opinion. Don allowed the debate to carry on for a few minutes, then called for order. “That is exactly what I want,” he said. “You all have something to contribute. Now let’s talk about the afternoon drill. This one will also help in conditioning your horses, and you can practice your battle formations. We all need to get the mounts used to the sound of gunfire, in case you operate with the Haven missile units.”
“Excuse me, Lord Donald,” began Fitzalan. “Is that the plan? Will the Mustangs be attached to these guns in the field?”
“No decision has been made on that,” answered Don. “This is a demonstration today. But it could very well be so, at some point. For today, let us assume that we will all go into battle together with the forces we have here today. Is that agreeable?”
Lord Allen spoke up. “It had better be agreeable. Let me say this. If these guns prove to be a worthy addition to our field units, you will see them in battle with you.”
Don nodded his thanks, then continued. He said, “Very well. After your drilling, I want both troops to advance on the knoll where the guns and missile units are set up. The guns will be firing blanks, the grenades are just noise-makers, the crossbows will be firing blunt quarrels, and the muskets will have no ball. We just want to see how well you perform as you charge into the guns. You don’t have to knock the gunners down with your staves. We will assume that if you can approach close enough to have struck them that they are dead. So we don’t want actual contact. They are not as well armored as you, and we don’t want serious injuries.”
Jenkins and Rob then addressed the assembled officers and explained what the weapons were and how they were used. Rob explained that each gun had a crew of four, and the crews were armed with muskets for defense of the guns. He also mentioned that the guns had beehive rounds which fired a dense charge of lead shot and small bits of metal. These were used only for close-range defense. The normal load, he explained, was balls, two inches in diameter, and that the maximum range had been confirmed to be over one-half mile.
The False Prophet (Stonegate Book 2) Page 22
