He and Don noticed the small fire and a coffee pot on the coals. “It’s coffee, to be sure,” said Stanley, producing two tin cups. “Let me pour you some, if any is left.”
There was plenty left. Don and Abel tied their mounts and accepted a cup. They sat in a circle around the fire in the shade and continued the conversation. They showed Samuel the written messages, and then burned them in the fire.
“You did right to tell the healers to admit that the girls had left the hospital,” mused Samuel, half to himself. “We did not move them any too soon. It would have been easy for the Raiders to have posted a guard at all gates, and then it would have been nearly impossible for them to have escaped.”
“But what I don’t understand is why we were in danger in the hospital,” blurted Carla. Her cape was open and her hood was thrown back, showing her red hair and green eyes. She was probably the youngest of the girls, perhaps seventeen. Her nose was slightly upturned, giving her an elfin look, which her slender, boyish figure did little to dispel. Rachel had told Don that she was spunky and that she was from a neighboring farm near Westerly. She seemed to have more energy than she had the previous day.
“Oh, you were safe enough,” returned Samuel. “But the enemy could put great pressure on the Surgeon. Also, if word came down from the Prophet, himself, it would be even worse. And the House of Healing does not like confrontation. Even now, there could be some retaliation from the Prophet’s men. So the quicker he finds out that you are not there, the better for the Healers.”
“And the worse for us, I take it,” sniffed Jane. “Why not keep them uncertain at least a few more days, just to let the trail get cold?”
“But how did the Prophet find out so quickly?” asked Carla. “You rescued us on Tuesday or maybe it was early Wednesday. That was only the day before yesterday.”
“The Prophet himself probably does not yet know, but his minions certainly know,” answered Samuel. “As for the idea of waiting—”
“I think she’s right,” chimed in Eric. “Surely we could keep them guessing for another two or three days.”
“Normally, I also would agree,” sighed Samuel. “But Donald and Abel had the right instincts. The whole reason we moved so fast was to minimize the damage this rescue might do to the House of Healing.” He turned toward Don. “So I agree with what you told them. And for an expert tracker, a few days would make little difference. I must admit, though, that even another day would make it harder for their dogs to find our trail.”
“Well, Samuel,” answered Abel, “We were counting on the Diné. They claim they can confuse the dogs and fool the best trackers. If they are as good as you say they are, we will be safe enough. Otherwise, we are in big trouble—and even a few more days would not change that.”
“That was the whole reason that I agreed to this plan,” interjected Don. “I am concerned for the Healers. But I also thought and still think that Rachel and the others need to be in a safe place as far from these Raiders as possible. They will never be safe if enemy can guess where they are.”
“To be sure,” returned Samuel. “Well, we saved some lunch for you. Relax and eat.”
Don and Abel needed no second urging. Stanley had made trail biscuits, somehow. They also had sausage, cheese, dried meat and apples. The food was good, and Don washed it down with the hot coffee. The apples made a tasty dessert. They shared the news from the exchange of messages. The whole party gave them their full attention. Samuel seemed to be one of the few that were not surprised about Deborah’s wish to join them.
“Why she would want to leave is more than I can see,” exclaimed Jane. “It’s not that she has to leave—like we did! Maybe she enjoys riding, but as for me—If I ever get home I will never, ever leave again!”
“Quite understandable,” responded Samuel, with a sigh. “We can join you in longing for that day. And I am sure that Deborah has a good reason for wanting to join us.”
“We are concerned that she could lead trackers to your cabin,” put in Abel.
“A good point,” mused Samuel, stirring at the ashes of the fire with a short stick. He poured himself a second cup of coffee, and offered it to the others. Only Abel accepted.
“Any news from the Diné?” asked Don.
“Well, yes,” answered Samuel. “Danny met us a short time before we stopped here. He said that there is no movement from our enemies. Crispin is scouting behind us, but has seen no one moving, either. Still—it feels ominous to me.”
“What do you mean?” asked Margaret. Don looked at her. Her long neck made her glance toward him seem graceful, almost languid. It was clear why she was captured—she would catch any man’s eye.
“Just that it seems too easy, so far. We are up against ruthless men who have had their pride hurt. They will search these hills and search well. Make no mistake about that.”
†
The afternoon ride was more bearable for all concerned. They seemed to be on top of a range of mountains, now. The ground seemed to be more or less level, which certainly was more pleasant than the previous climb had been. Even the invalids seemed to be gaining some strength, becoming more used to the saddle. Perhaps Abel’s medicine had helped, as well.
It was mid-afternoon when they rode out near the top of a long park. The grass was mostly brown, mixed with dwarf willows; leafless and dormant. But hints of green showed at the base of the clumps of grass, and green shoots were still showing through the black earth. Samuel led them onto a narrow elk trail that left the park toward the northeast. The way was hemmed in by down timber, but the trail wove between the logs. Then he left the trail entirely and rode into a small grove of young pine. He dismounted and reached under a log, producing several loosely woven sacks. Following his cue, everyone dismounted.
The sacks contained more boots for the horses, but boots with a difference. They were oversized and made of boiled leather, hard and stiff. The soles were thickly padded, looking something like bear paws. They had straps and buckles for fastening them to their horses hooves and legs. Samuel, Abel and Stanley showed the other men how to attach the boots to their horse’s feet. It took some time, but at last Samuel was satisfied. He addressed the group.
“Now keep a sharp look out for each other’s boots,” he instructed. “Obviously, they are designed to hide our tracks and make our trail much less obvious. We do not want a compacted trail to lead to Owl Hollow. We have several ways that we take through the heavy timber, but it always comes down at last to the same two or three trails. Without the boots, it would look like a wagon road in no time.”
Samuel took the lead, as before, then came the girls, with Erik and Bobby spaced among them. Then came Stanley with the pack horses. Abel and Don rode in the rear. The boots seemed to be working. The trail was muddy in spots, and it was clear that something had made marks. But it would have been difficult to say exactly what made the strange impressions, and the trail was not at all obvious.
The way through the timber was slow going. They had to replace boots several times, and the trail wound around like a serpent. Logs lay everywhere like jackstraws, Many were across the trail, some as much as two feet to two and a half feet off the ground. Next to the trail, the tangle was as much as ten feet high in some spots. A man could get through, but slowly. It was impassable for a horse, except on the trail. Surprisingly, elk tracks showed that they found the logs to be a slight problem. They seemed to be able to move through the tangle, almost at will. But the horses were not elk.
After what seemed like five miles, but which was probably not nearly that far, they came out of the timber into another park. This one was more circular, with a ridge running through it, as well as a stream with beaver dams. At the edge of the timber, they removed the boots and left them behind. They continued down a trail next to a small stream of water, and then turned to the right, crossing over the low r
idge. Just below they could see a building. And a strange structure it was.
Actually, Don’s first glimpse was from the southwest, and all he could see at first was the keep. It was of stone, roughly cube-shaped, about fifty feet wide, sixty feet long and forty to fifty feet high. Two towers extended perhaps ten feet higher than the rest of the building, on the northwest and southeast corners. There were no openings at ground level, though arrow slits pierced the upper parts of the walls.
As they got closer, Don could see that the stones were beautifully cut, of gray stone with a hint of reddish blush. The top of the wall was crenellated, giving some protection to defenders, who could shoot arrows through the “notches” in the top of the wall. The stones were carefully and skillfully joined; impossible to climb without ladders. In fact, Don could not see how one entered the keep since there was no obvious doorway. They rode around the north end of the building, and then he could see that a two-story log building joined the keep to the east and further extended about fifty feet. As in the keep, the log building had no windows except arrow slits about twelve feet off the ground.
As they rounded the end of the log building, and turned south, they could see that a smaller one-story cabin formed an “ell” with the two-story structure. There was a small yard, with brown grass and flower beds, with a white picket fence around it, and a pole fence that extended around all the buildings enclosing about an acre. Several other log buildings and a barn stood behind the small cabin separate from the main structure. Don could see that the small cabin had a porch and two windows with real glass on each side of a large wooden door. Two middle-aged ladies were hurrying down the flagstone path from the porch to the gate. They were gray at the temples, and both wore aprons over their long dresses.
“Welcome! Welcome!” they cried, waving at their visitors. “Welcome to Owl Hollow.”
†
It did not take long for the two women to take charge of the girls and to escort them into the cabin, like two hens with their chicks. Don took off his mail and left it on the porch, along with his shield and other gear. Stanley unpacked the horses and then took the rest of the party down to the log barn. They led the horses into a roomy alley. Stanley organized the unsaddling, and showed everyone where to store the tack. They grained the horses, then turned them out into the corral and fed them some hay from the loft.
It was late afternoon when they trudged back up the hill to the house. They collected their gear, and Samuel showed them to their rooms. It was then that Don learned where the entrance to the keep was. They went in through the small cabin, turned right, climbed two flights of stairs, walked down a hall that ran the length of the wooden building, up another short flight of stairs, through a heavy door faced with iron, and they were in the stone keep.
Don learned that the only door to the keep was through the log cabin, and it was fourteen feet off the ground where it entered the stone building. Samuel led them down a hallway on the second floor with doors on the left and stone walls to the right. He showed Don his room, which had a window overlooking a small courtyard in the center of the keep. Don had expected the keep to be dark and damp, but the room was airy, well lighted, and whitewashed. There was a fireplace along the west wall, which was of stone. The floor and ceiling were wood. The wall facing the courtyard was stucco, as was the east wall that displayed a religious painting, apparently Jesus Christ stilling the sea.
Several sheepskin rugs were on the floor. Samuel pointed to one. “Put your mail on the rug, Lore-man,” he said. “The natural grease will help keep your armor from rusting.” He opened a wardrobe. “Here is a wool robe and some other clothes. Feel free to relax and to wear anything you find here. This is a good place to store your things.”
“Many thanks,” returned Don. He laid his cloak and saddlebags on the bed and unbuckled his sword, standing it inside the wardrobe. He leaned his javelin, bow and quiver in the corner and stood the kite shield next to them. The mail and helm he laid on the sheepskin, just as Samuel had suggested. Samuel then left with the others to show them their rooms. He was not gone long.
When Samuel reappeared at the door, Don asked: “When do we get the grand tour?”
“Right now, if you wish,” returned Samuel. “Let’s go to the tower, first.”
The door from his room opened back into the hallway, which was lit by arrow slits piercing the outer wall. Don could see that the outer wall was about three feet thick, so at each arrow slit there was a cove in the wall with an overhead arch. The slits were covered with narrow windows to keep out cold drafts.
“You see,” said Samuel, pointed at the arrow slits. “We had to make the wall thinner there so the archers could see out.” Don was impressed. It was cleverly done. “If there is a serious attack, however, we fully expect that the cabin would be burned.”
“So you consider the log cabin to be expendable?” asked Don.
“In a way. The Raider’s oldest trick is to set houses on fire and burn the defenders out. If they try that here, they only make our keep that much harder to take.”
“But if they burn the cabin, won’t that also burn the door to the keep?”
“Not likely, since the outside of the door is iron plate. It might get hot, but the iron will not burn through! The same is true of our loft door in the western wall.”
They crossed to the other tower and went down another set of spiral stairs to the ground level. Samuel showed them the well, the granary, and the system for storing rainwater in a stone reservoir on the second floor. This allowed the rainwater to be piped to a latrine as well as the bath and laundry room. The courtyard was paved with flagstones and was well drained with storm sewers. Even the latrine, which was spotless and clean, had a functional sewer. Don was impressed by the windows facing the courtyard. They were all made of glass, and all also had thick wooden shutters.
“What about the horses?” asked Abel. “There seems to be no way to protect them.”
“Very true,” returned Samuel. “That is to be regretted. Ideally, we would have a better place to protect the horses. But it created too much problems for security. Horses would require a gate to gain access. Gates are the weakest part of any fort since it is not difficult to fashion a battering ram. A simple tree trunk can batter down a strong gate. This keep, as you will notice, has no gates at ground level, so we have no danger from battering rams.”
Samuel then showed them how they had rigged a simple derrick that could be run out of the loft door in the upper part of the west-facing wall, to hoist heavy objects and then bring them inside. “We could hoist the horses inside, if we have all day,” Samuel joked. “But the fodder to feed them would be a fire hazard, and we would have to get rid of the manure.”
“But why don’t you build a stone barn so that the horses could be given some protection?” asked Eric,
“Priorities,” answered Samuel. “We have too many other pressing things to be able to afford the time to build a nice stone barn. Good question, but if we are ever attacked, we will have to bring every defender into the keep. We could not spare anyone to defend the barn, anyway. So the horses will have to look out for themselves if that day ever comes.”
“How could three or four people build all this in a year?” asked Don.
Samuel looked a bit uncomfortable. “We did have considerable help from a team of stone-masons from Ariel,” he admitted. “I have often worried that they might say something.”
Finally, as the last step on the first tour, Samuel took them to the armory, which was on the second floor, next to the northwestern tower. It was quite impressive. There were at least a dozen mail shirts, with helms, breastplates, racks of shields, perhaps fifty crossbows, and cases of quarrels—crossbow ammunition. Along one wall were bows and quivers of arrows. Next to the arrows were racks of spears and swords. Above the windows hung a dozen antique powder arms. There were several locke
d cases standing against one wall, as well.
Both Don’s and Abel’s jaws dropped. “Thunderation!” exclaimed Abel. “I think you are better equipped than the House of Healing!”
Samuel chuckled, proudly. “Well, not literally. You could equip many more men. But we can completely equip a dozen soldiers, in reinforced mail. We have enough crossbows for four times as many. We can provide light arms for perhaps a hundred. And we have one other surprise—in that locked cabinet. But you must swear to me by all you hold precious and holy, that this will be kept secret from all others.”
Abel and Don looked at each other. Abel responded first, “I will gladly swear, so long as it does not mean harm to the House of Healing.”
“I will certainly swear to keep your defenses secret—especially your weapons,” answered Don. Eric and Bobby swore that they would die before they told.
“Very well,” returned Samuel. “Certainly, Sir Abel, this will never be a threat to your House as long as your house is the enemy of the Prophet.”
He unlocked the door of one cabinet with a key that he kept around his neck. He removed an object wrapped in oilskin, laid it on a table in the middle of the room, and removed the wrappings. It was an antique rifle, black in color, and gleaming with the sheen of oil. It appeared to be in perfect condition. Don recognized it as a military weapon of the Empire. He had seen many rusting on walls, curios, ever since the ammunition for them was depleted. But never one as well-preserved as this.
“I don’t understand,” returned Don. “The secret for making exploding bullets for these antiques has long been lost, and the ammunition is long gone. Even if a few bullets could be found, they would be so valuable that no one could afford to buy them.”
The Stonegate Sword Page 29
