Don and Crispin looked at each other, not sure what to do. Don stepped off his horse and hovered nearby, and Crispin patted Amber’s shoulder. Amber was almost submerged in the large woman’s bosom. Finally, she held Amber at arms’ length to look her in the face.
“But dear, you must be exhausted. We must take you to your mother! I will send one of the boys to fetch your father. Oh, I can’t believe—Amber, you must introduce these men. Are they your rescuers?” She dried her tears on her apron.
Amber assured her that they were and made the necessary introductions. Then Polly shooed her on ahead while she stayed to show Don and Crispin how to open the gate to bring in their horses. “We have a nice little stable—not that we use it much. The master keeps his horses downtown, you see.”
They soon had the horses unsaddled and placed in stalls, and then followed Polly to the main house. The courtyard was large, with several blue spruces growing next to the house and even a small lawn. A juniper hedge bordered the sidewalk from the gate to the front door.
The house was two-storied with red clay roof tiles and gray stone walls. It was large and imposing and clearly was meant to be. Polly, who was obviously the maid, ushered them in the front door through a foyer and into a sitting room to the right. She announced them as “Donald of Fisher” and “Master Crispin.” They were greeted by a slender lady of middle age. Her hair was also black, but white locks graced her temples. She advanced to meet them and offered them a small hand.
“How can we ever thank you, kind sirs?” she began. “I am Barbara Fletcher, and Amber is the most precious treasure of our house and the apple of her father’s eye. She is an only child, you see …”
Don took her hand, hardly knowing what to say. Mrs. Fletcher’s eyes were wet, but she seemed perfectly composed and gracious. Amber stood smiling, but with red eyes and nose, twisting her scarf in her hands.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to have been of service, Mrs. Fletcher,” he said at last. Crispin bowed and kissed her hand.
“He’s such a tease, mother,” exclaimed Amber, which broke the ice. Within a few minutes they were in a cheery dining room, drinking cold cider. Amber insisted that she felt fine and did not have to lie down, though she did confess to a few saddle sores.
Don and Crispin were shown to a guest room after a half hour or so and were given time to wash and change to clean clothes from their saddle bags. Polly appeared and took their dirty garments away, clucking at a missing button that she noticed on Crispin’s shirt. “You just relax for a while,” she said. “The master is home and wants some time alone with Amber and to compose himself. You understand it is quite a shock.”
Don did understand, and it was a good hour before they were ushered back to the dining room. Amber’s father was standing there, hands behind his back. He gave them a broad smile and walked to meet them hand outstretched. Polly withdrew and left the three of them alone.
Wesley seemed bigger than he was. But he was only of medium height, five and a half feet or so. He had a small paunch and jowls to go with it. He was clean shaven, auburn hair with only a touch of gray, and hazel eyes. He had big bones. Don noticed that his wrists were unusually large.
“I am eternally in your debt, Donald—Crispin,” he began. “I thought we should have a man-to-man talk before we have dinner.” Wesley led them to a smaller room down a short hall. Several comfortable chairs, a bookshelf and a writing table took up most of the room. “Here is my retreat. Make yourselves comfortable. And, if you would, I would like to hear the whole story. I have never heard of the escape of a ‘bride’ of the Prophet before. We had given her up as dead or worse than dead!”
Don took him at his word and told him the whole story, beginning with his quest for Rachel and the long chase from Stonegate. Crispin added a few details. They did not say anything about Owl Hollow, and Amber had promised that she would keep its secret, as well. Don skipped over much of his personal role in the rescue, but was otherwise unsparing of himself and confessed his shame at the failure of his scouting party. Wesley was mostly silent, introspective, throughout the telling of the tale, which took a good hour. The east-facing window showed long shadows in the side yard by the time that they were finished. A long silence fell. Wesley seemed lost in thought, and they were reluctant to disturb him. Don wondered if this was the time to deliver the message from Samuel.
“I always try to listen to what is said, and what is not said,” remarked Wesley, at last. “I am a merchant, you know. My life consists of negotiation, and it seems that the world is more dishonest than in my father’s day. They had a much harder life, but they had integrity. Now, it is all a sordid contest, with every man out to steal from his brother. And the evil in the West is growing stronger every day.”
At Donald’s and Crispin’s nods, he continued, grim-faced. “At first, I thought she had been kidnapped for ransom. Such things happen, and I was prepared to pay. But then it became obvious that the Raiders had simply been struck by her beauty. And she is a beauty, to be sure.”
“Oh, I know you agree. But when it became obvious that she was destined for the Prophet, we gave up hope. I have nothing to offer that he could not better, no inducement. I spoke to mercenaries who guard the caravans. Some are bold and skilled with weapons, but none were willing to attempt what you did, no matter how large my offers.” He stopped and put his head in his hands and visibly shuddered.
“I am sorry,” he said. “You see, telling it is like reliving the frustration. I am the man of the family, the protector, and I could not even protect my only daughter—But now she is returned, against all hope. And now it is right for us to rejoice. You must stay with us for a time. I plan to hold a celebration, like a wedding feast. My daughter is literally, it seems to me, returned from the dead. And it is because of the two of you and your friends, of course.”
His mood visibly brightened, as he discussed his plans for the festival. “But there are a few questions I would ask, and then—” he stopped with a smile. “And then we must talk of rewards. For we are men of the world, and we know that handsome deeds must be handsomely rewarded. And I am glad to do so. Agreed?”
“We are happy to see your family’s joy,” returned Don. “We ask for no personal reward at all, beyond that. Perhaps you could help us in another matter, but we can discuss that at the proper time.”
“Of course, of course,” returned Wesley. “But you skipped over very quickly the hiding place. That is something of a secret, unless I miss my guess. And you must have some allies, some skilled scouts, or how could you know the movements of the Prophet’s men?”
Don and Crispin looked at each other. Wesley missed very little. But he continued without waiting for an answer. “And you mentioned that the Prophet was greatly irritated at the House of Healing, for giving Amber and the other captives sanctuary and that he suspected the Healers of masterminding the rescue. Is that correct?”
At Don’s nod, he hurried on. “So. Hmm. It is well known that Ariel and Bethuel are thorns in his side. Forces from the West tried to destroy both in my father’s day. Only the town guns have kept us from a similar attack, we believe.”
“I am confused about one thing,” interjected Don. “Why would not the guns be an inducement to attack? Such weapons have invited attack before.”
“The Dixie Rebellion?”
“Yes. I understand that the prophet accepted heavy losses to acquire some small hand weapons. Much less powerful than your guns, they were. Why them and not you?”
“But surely that is obvious. It is the difference between defense and offense. Our town guns are no threat to the Prophet, not unless we formed an army and marched west. Hardly likely!”
“But you are a wealthy town. That is also obvious. And the Prophet is casting a hungry eye to the East.”
“Yes, but by the same token, we pay him a tribute, or
tax, every year. Supposedly it is to fix the highways, but it is really a bribe to be left alone. So far it has been enough. Even the next village to the west is still free. Then, farther west comes a desert, and the next settlements—well, they are owned by the Prophet, body and soul.”
Wesley picked up a scroll from his desk. “Now, let us talk of rewards. The Raiders did not violate my Amber because they sought great reward. You protected her honor because you are men of honor. But gold is also honorable and needful. And your honor will not be diminished by accepting an unlooked-for gift.”
Don and Crispin again protested, but he waved both hands with a laugh. “Enough, enough! Please, no more protest. Now, your horses can carry a little gold, but I can give you a scroll that will be honored in Stonegate or Ariel for more than you could carry. How would you like your own house in Stonegate, Donald, with a scriptorium, library, and fields outside the walls besides? And you, Master Crispin, how if your fortune were already made? That young lady that caught your eye back home could be your wife much sooner, could she not?”
“Sir,” returned Don. “I obviously did not think this through. You are what you say—you are a skilled negotiator and a man used to getting his own way. But let me give you a message and allow me to ask you a favor. Not as a reward, but something that we believe would be in your own interest and that of your city.”
“Of course, Donald,” agreed Wesley. “But I am used to doing what I think is right, and so we shall return to this matter of a reward. But go ahead, excuse me.”
Don removed the message from the oilskin pouch and handed it to Wesley. “This is a message from the man who planned the rescue. Of course, many people were involved. We had help from Glenwood, Ariel and the House of Healing.”
“Yes, of course,” replied Wesley, absently, as he broke the wax seal and started scanning the document. They sat in silence for several long minutes. Don and Crispin finished the last of their cider.
“Are you aware of the contents of this message?” asked Wesley, with a tight look about his jaw.
Crispin nodded. Don said, “We have not actually read it, but Samuel explained what he planned to write. We do hope you will be able to help us.”
“Well, your Samuel has put me in a pretty pickle,” exclaimed Wesley. “I hardly know what to do. I certainly owe you all a great debt. But I can’t do anything against the security of our city. Now, can I?”
“Sometimes the most cautious course is the most risky,” observed Don.
“Yes, well—that is true. And I must confess that something like this has crossed my mind on occasion. But I think our time is almost gone, Polly waved at me earlier, and we should return to the dining room. Let us discuss your proposed alliance later.”
Chapter 17
†
The Alliance
There is a league between me and thee, as there was between my father and thy father. 2 Chronicles 16:3a KJV
Don and Crispin followed Wesley into the dining room to find the table set and Polly bustling about. “The ladies will be in presently,” she said, as she set a steaming dish of mashed potatoes near a browned roast. “Perhaps, Master Crispin, you would be so good as to fetch one more chair from the hallway.” Another servant was returning to the kitchen.
Crispin sprang forward and followed Polly out of the room. Wesley moved to the head of the table and remained standing behind the chair. He motioned Don to the chair to his right. Don imitated him. As they stood together for a long minute, Don was conscious of Wesley’s thoughtful gaze. Don sensed that he was being sized up, weighed. But he could not tell if he was found wanting. The shirt on his right arm pulled up far enough to reveal part of a sword-scar. Don felt his host’s gaze take the scar and add it to the balance, along with the rest.
Crispin entered from the hall with a chair, just as Amber entered from the kitchen. Crispin almost ran into the table as he stared at her. With good reason. She had been attractive in Owl Hollow, when she had been able to wash her hair and put on clean clothes. But before, the striking beauty of Margaret overshadowed her. But here, with her own wardrobe and her own dressing table (and the eye of her mother, no doubt) she bloomed. A touch of blush on her cheeks highlighted the porcelain of her fair complexion. And the black hair accented the contrast still more. It was all Don could do not to gape like a simpleton, and Crispin was unable to help it. His expression was so comical that both Amber and her mother laughed merrily.
“Do be careful, Crispin,” teased Mrs. Fletcher. “You are staring as if you’d never seen Amber before.”
“I truly believe that I have not, Lady Fletcher,” replied Crispin, putting the chair in its place with a flourish. “But I am thunderstruck by her now!” He jumped forward to help Amber to her seat, across the table from the guests, and Don assisted the older woman to her place at the foot of the table.
The meal was pleasant, featuring delicious roast beef with horseradish, followed by rhubarb pie and mint tea for dessert. As the dusk darkened the windows, Polly lit candles, which put spots of fire in the highlights of the silver serving dishes. Mrs. Fletcher proved skilled at keeping a lively conversation going and seemed particularly interested in Stonegate.
“They are a proud and fierce people,” she commented, with sadness in her voice. “Once our two cities were friends, but we have grown apart. They are suspicious of us, and we see almost no one from there except traders.”
“I am not actually from Stonegate, you know,” remarked Don. “My home is Goldstone, far to the north.” At her urging, he told a little about his boyhood as the son of a lore-master and his isolation from the world. “I lived in Goldstone over twenty years and Stonegate not even one. But in Goldstone I lived one year twenty times. In Stonegate the very world was different.”
“How so?” asked Amber. “Was it Stonegate itself, or because you met Rachel there?”
“Rachel has changed my life. So, even if nothing else had happened there, Stonegate would be unforgettable for me,” slowly answered Don as he sipped his tea. “But my life before Stonegate was like a long hike through the woods with everything shadowy and no step along the way very different from the one before or the one after. Then, suddenly, that life was followed by a view from a mountaintop. I saw possibilities that I had been blind to before. Rachel was the center of this new vision, of course.”
“So, Donald, what are your plans?” asked Lady Fletcher. “It sounds like a wedding may be in your future.”
“That would be my fondest dream. But there are problems. I am the one responsible for her capture, the death of her parents, and the capture of some of the other girls, for that matter. I am not welcome in Stonegate, and Rachel’s brother hates me. Not a promising beginning for a marriage.”
“Yes, but you rescued her,” exclaimed Amber, forcefully. “That will surely make a difference, Donald. And she is very fond of you. Though she says you have never discussed marriage …”
“I —Well—I have doubts.” said Don, at last. “Not of my feelings for her. And I do think she is fond of me. I love her with all my heart! But she will inherit a large property, and could easily find a good mate. I cannot help but wonder what would be best for her. I truly want her to be happy.”
“Spoken like a man of honor,” pronounced Wesley. “Your concern for her does you credit. But be careful that you do not think less of yourself than you should. ‘Faint heart never won the fair lady!’ Don’t you agree, Barbara?”
“I quite agree, dear,” she returned. “Don’t hang back, Donald. Let her decide if you are the one for her. But you must return her to her home before you make final plans to wed. The burden of this tragedy will become heavier if you do not face it squarely and take responsibility for it. You must face her brother and try to be reconciled. As much as it lies in your power, make amends. Then, life goes on. No man who has been bloodied in battle is completely
free from guilt feelings, if he is an honorable man. I know! My father was such a man, and he bore the loss of many good friends who never returned home. But he was able to deal with it, and so must you. And I am not sure that the leaders of Stonegate treated you fairly.”
Donald nodded and lapsed into silence, using the teacup as a kind of shield before his face. Crispin was never at a loss for words and soon had the table chuckling. Finally, the scrape of the master’s chair signaled that the meal was at an end as he pushed back and stood.
“The evening draws late, and you have had a long day,” announced Wesley with a pleasant smile as he led the way out of the room. “Polly will get you anything you need to be comfortable. Good evening.”
†
“I am not the king of Steamboat,” began Wesley. “Would that I were.” He stood with his back to them, gazing out the glass of the study window at the dawn. Don and Crispin sat uneasily and glanced at each other. Crispin rolled his eyes, but Don only glanced away and tried to relax his tight jaws.
Wesley turned to face them, hands clasped behind his back. His pose was that of the lecturer. “Steamboat follows the traditional model. We are ruled by a mayor and a city council of six. All major decisions are made by vote of the council, and the mayor votes in the case of a tie. We have four council members from the four quarters of the city, and two ‘at large’ members. Obviously I would have to garner four votes before I could honor your Samuel’s request.”
“So you intend taking this to the council?” asked Don. “Would not the military commander be the one to make the decision?”
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