The Stonegate Sword

by Harry James Fox

  Don and Robert stopped in the early afternoon and watched every man negotiate a difficult section of the trail. It was muddy, but at least ice was not a problem. They were in single file on a north slope in spruce and fir. The trail then dropped steeply, crossed a small stream, then climbed as abruptly on the other side. It was confusing for the horses and riders alike. Some horses tried to jump the stream and lunge up the steep incline. Some wanted to bolt downhill to get a running start. Still others balked at the muddy crossing. Several riders were nearly thrown. Robert shouted advice and encouragement to all that seemed to need it.

  Then came Bud, the large blacksmith, on a buckskin that was much smaller than average. He crossed the stream without difficulty, but as the horse gamely lunged up the steep part, Bud seemed to lose his balance and began sawing on the rains, throwing his mount off center. Robert shouted, “Give him his head!” But Bud either ignored him or did not hear. He pulled the buckskin’s head to the left, causing him to lose his balance. He fell to the right in a thicket of small fir with all four legs uphill. Bud’s right leg was trapped underneath. Don and Robert dismounted and ran down to the struggling tangle.

  Robert grabbed the buckskin’s bridle and pulled the horse’s nose toward his flank. He put his hand over the fallen mount’s eye. The threshing stopped for a moment. Don came in on the uphill side and got the halter rope free. Two other recruits came up and he had them both take hold of the rope. Don then made sure that Bud’s topmost foot was well clear of the stirrup.

  Bud was cursing in a shrill voice. “Shut up!” roared Robert. The cursing stopped. “Bud! LISTEN!” contributed Don. Robert continued in a calm voice. “Now we have to get this horse off you, Bud. Don’t try to stay on when we let him up. Your left foot is free. We want to make sure to get your right foot out of the stirrup as he goes up, and then you get away. He can’t get up until I turn him loose.”

  Then Robert released the horse’s head, and Don and the two other recruits pulled his head and neck uphill. He rolled on his stomach, got his feet under him and struggled up. Bud rolled away. Robert smiled at the recruits. “That was done very well. Exactly right.”

  Again, Abel and Philip were called into service. They examined Bud’s right leg. It was muddy, skinned and bruised, but not broken. The buckskin seemed to be none the worse for the fall. Abel washed the scrapes and rubbed on some salve. They waved the column on, and it continued to pass. Robert came over to talk to Bud.

  “I want you to tell me what happened,” said Robert. His face was set.

  Bud blustered, “It wasn’t my fault. That stupid horse was clumsy. He fell down and almost killed me. I thought you saw the whole thing.”

  “I did see the whole thing. And nothing of the sort happened. Do you want to try again?”

  “What—What do you mean? Of course the horse fell down!”

  “The horse fell down. But he is not clumsy, and it wasn’t his fault. Do you know why he fell down?”

  “No. Why?” Bud’s eyes nervously flicked from Don to Robert to Abel. He seemed to notice that faces were turned his way, and none were smiling.

  “I told you to give the horse his head! If you had leaned forward and let up on the reins, he could have made his own way up the hill. But you panicked and pulled him down. Have you ever ridden a horse before you joined?”

  “No, I am a blacksmith.” Bud answered. “And I did not even know that you could pull a horse down.”

  “Your horse was off balance, and instead of helping him, you were his worst enemy. You don’t deserve that little horse. His heart must be as big as a house to have even carried you this far. If I could make you carry him the rest of the way, I would.”

  Bud sullenly looked at the ground and said nothing.

  “I don’t think you understand a thing I am saying. You can bring up the end of the line. I want you to lead that horse the rest of the way to camp. You don’t deserve to ride!”

  Bud looked directly at Robert for the first time. “But I couldn’t keep up. And I don’t know the way. You wouldn’t leave me alone out here, would you? Please.” He seemed to be turning pale and licked his lips, as though his mouth was dry.

  “I will make sure that the scouts keep an eye on you. And if I hear that you get back on that horse and ride him one step the rest of the day, I will have you thrashed. Understand?”

  Bud was very polite. He nodded vigorously. But that was not good enough. Robert asked again. “I asked you if you understood.”

  “Yes, sir!” Bud answered. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he looked up at Robert.

  Robert turned away like a man would turn from a rotted carcass. He reined his horse back onto the trail. He and Don rode off to catch up with the baggage train. They did not see Bud the rest of the day, but they did discuss him, briefly. It was clear that he had no business in the field. When the patrol was over, he would be reassigned to the farrier. He probably could learn the rudiments of making horseshoes without much trouble. But that would be one fewer in their mounted unit. They hoped that they would be able to field three full troops, but they needed more veterans.

  They arrived at the campsite in the late afternoon. Much of the snow had melted and there were even some bare patches of gravelly soil that, though damp, were not muddy. Don and Robert left the three troop leaders to organize the camp. The horses had to be fed first. Robert’s parting advice was, “We will be back soon. Remember to remind these youngsters that horses will drown if they try to drink while wearing a feedbag. Have sick call when the tents are up and the horses are picketed. There will be blisters, bumps and cuts, if nothing worse.” Robert and Don followed Wilson, one of the Diné scouts, to the overlook. It was about a mile away, over a saddle, and down a ridge to a high knoll with a clear view to the west.

  They reined up near the top, left their horses in a grassy swale, and walked over to the highest point overlooking the valley below. Robert pulled a set of ancient viewing glasses out of a pouch on his right hip. Don and Wilson found them quite interesting. The glasses were from the old empire, but were still sharp and clear. The Kolaroo River was a bright curving thread. They could even see parts of the Junction highway though Junction itself was not in view. Wilson’s eyes were amazingly sharp, and with the viewing glasses, he claimed to be able to see a few riders on the highway. Don could not be sure of that, but there did seem to be something there. Whatever it was, it was not an invading army. Not yet.

  Stew and corn bread were on the menu for the evening meal. The horses were cropping grass and guards set out as darkness fell. Robert, Don, Wilson, several of the other scouts, and the three troop leaders met over coffee. Abel and Philip were also there. They sat on saddle blankets next to the headquarters tent. A campfire gave light and kept the coffee pot warm. After going over the problems of the day and the training plan for the day to come, they began to discuss the long-range plans for the horse unit. The topic of conversation drifted toward the Raiders. Wilson and the scouts listened politely but said little.

  “Finally!” exclaimed Bob, one of the troop leaders. He had served as a scout several years before and knew Robert well. He was above medium height, lean and slender with sharp features. The other recruits often called him ‘Slim.’ The group looked his way, and he continued. “I have been wantin’ to take out those Raiders for many a long year, I can tell you. It’s not just that they are damned thieves, and they walk over decent folk whenever they come to Glenwood. But they are also spies for the Prophet.”

  “That’s for sure!” agreed another troop leader named “Blackie.” He was from Bethuel and a skilled archer. In his mid forties, he had also served in the last skirmish against the Prophet’s forces. His beard was thick and dark. “Most folks have gritted their teeth and waited for the day we can get rid of them. Can’t come too soon for me, neither.”

  “Now, now, settle down,” s
aid Robert, raising both hands, palms forward. “Don’t think we are going to go right over there and tear down their ugly camp on Monday. Ariel and Bethuel have said that we can’t be the first to attack. Defense only! I know you don’t like it, but that’s how it is.”

  “How does the House of Healing stand, Abel?” asked Don, thoughtfully.

  “Pacifist, as always,” returned Abel. “I am no blood and guts warmonger, but most people in the House see me that way. And a bit of caution is no bad thing. We think Balek Brown has about two hundred and fifty horse Raiders and another fifty garrison—guards and housekeepers. So you are a bit outnumbered.”

  Robert turned to Philip. “I understand that you were a captive there,” he said. “Do those numbers sound right to you?”

  Philip nodded. “Yes, Lord Robert,” he answered, slowly. “And there are another thirty or forty slaves kept there on top of everything else.” He paused, and rubbed his forehead and grimaced as though he felt a sharp pain. “And groups of riders are always coming and going.”

  “Right,” agreed Carl, who was the third troop leader. His father owned a freight business in Glenwood. Carl was an excellent horseman, and good with doctoring sick animals. Nearly as old as Blackie, he was also an excellent archer. “They graze when they are not feeding hay that they stole from farmers down the valley. If anyone protests, they threaten to burn them out.”

  “We all know about the Raiders,” interrupted Robert. “They are a nasty piece of work. That’s for sure. And getting rid of them may not be all that easy. Chasing them down the river would not do much good. They will just come back, very soon, at the head of the Prophet’s army. If we can’t destroy them, we at least need to make them fear us.”

  “Cavalry is not worth much in attacking a fort,” said Don, thinking out loud. “All the Raiders would have to do is pull back and wait behind their walls until the Prophet arrives. We could do nothing about that.”

  “We could raid their horse herd,” suggested Bob. “They would have a choice of losing it or bringing it behind their walls. It would not take long for them to eat up a lot of hay.”

  “They could hold out for a couple of weeks,” responded Robert. “That would be plenty of time for the Prophet to send a relief force up the river. We won’t be able to starve them out.”

  “We could at least chase all their patrols back to their fort,” said Blackie. “They can’t stand against us one on one. They are too lightly armored, and their bows aren’t much.”

  “That is the problem of light cavalry against heavy cavalry,” said Robert. “They can’t stand against us, but they can outrun us. Their little horses are not carrying much of a load, and they can run like the wind. So it would not be easy to chase them anywhere they did not want to go.”

  “So you are saying that we can’t do much of anything,” asked Carl. “Why in the world did you form these troops, in that case?” He did not look happy.

  “For now, we will patrol north of the river,” said Robert. “If they attack us, well and good. We can defend ourselves and punish them in that case. We can patrol the main road going up the river and make it harder for them to rob people. Ariel will allow us to drive them off and meet force with force.”

  “And, maybe we can come up with a plan to remove the Raider’s camp,” said Abel. “But we have to be careful, and we can’t be the first one to attack.”

  The meeting broke up, with some sour looks. Don discussed the training plan with Robert and Ariel for a few minutes before going to their bedrolls. He puzzled over the main problem for an hour before drifting off to sleep. Their first challenge was definitely the Raiders. Of course, the Prophet’s army was coming. That was the main worry, but it was not staring them in the face.

  Don walked to the edge of the clearing and looked down a steep, north-facing slope. The light was rose in color and fading fast. He heard a mewing call and saw several cow elk below him. The elk looked uphill curiously, but seemed unafraid. They were thin in the flanks, with a winter coat that was dull and patchy. But their bellies were swollen with unborn calf. and they seemed strong. They stood still for several minutes, then ambled off, The hillside was silent again. Don turned back to the camp.

  His dreams were fitful. The wind kept blowing from the west, and the lodgepole pines near his tent rustled and sighed. He dreamed that he was looking for something valuable, but could never find it. He awoke stiff and sore. There was a light frost on the ground and on the tent ropes.

  Oatmeal was the breakfast with coffee to wash it down. Oats were the horse’s fare as well. Wooden swords were distributed, and the troopers clashed in mounted drill. It was intended to be a rough exercise, and so it proved. Bruises there were in plenty, but no broken bones. The horses fared much better since hitting a horse was forbidden, in training at least.

  In the afternoon they had mounted archery competition with practice arrows—no broad-heads. They fired at targets made of canvas bags filled with branches. The Raiders did not use much armor, but the troopers were also allowed to use a few bodkin-tipped arrows, which were effective against mail. The day ended with two final contests, tournament style. First, there was a dismounted archery competition. Then the day closed with a mounted sword and shield drill. The winners of the first round were matched against each other, until finally the winning swordsman and archer won their final match and were declared champions. The top swordsman, a slender young man with reflexes like a cat, was awarded a beautiful broadsword from Ariel. The top archer, who had used a bow all his life, was from a downriver farm. He received an excellent wood-horn composite bow from Bethuel. Philip kept a list of each recruit and recorded their scores.

  The sun rode swiftly down the western sky leaving a blaze of pink and peach, fading to purple. The cool breeze of evening began to blow from the west, and Don shivered as he stood before his small tent. It was time to inspect the guard and speak to the Diné, then to bed. There was no bugle call since they were on patrol in unfriendly country.

  Chapter 23

  †

  A Raid to Remember

  Where no counsel is, the people fall: but in the multitude of counselors there is safety. Proverbs 11:14 KJV

  The week following their Saturday return was as crowded as a manger at feeding time. Samuel, they learned, had scheduled a graduation parade for the coming Saturday. The three troops were going to parade through the streets of Ariel, be commissioned by the town fathers, and then return to Fort Baldy for an ox-roast. Robert calmly told Don that he would have to take over for the rest of the week.

  “So, Donald, the load will fall on you, I’m afraid,” he said. “I have to go back to my own horses for a few days. And I will also look for locations for an alternate headquarters.” They were standing by the headquarters buildings, watching the second patrol of the day mount up. Dust was rising from the lance course. They could hear the tapping of a hammer from the shop.

  “Very well,” retuned Don. “You want me to make final assignments to the three troops, and select commanders. But don’t you want to at least look over the lists before Saturday?” Don had fully expected that Robert would make these decisions. Don realized that he would now have to plan all the details of the ceremony and festivities, continue to oversee the last week’s training schedule, dispatch two patrols per day, and debrief them when they returned, and supervise the garrison. On top of that, with Robert gone, he would now have to attend daily meetings in Ariel, to say nothing of overseeing the final construction of the fort’s water system and fortifications. He felt inadequate and apparently it showed on his face.

  “Don’t get all in a stew,” advised Robert, with a chuckle. “Take things as they come. We discussed the organization several times. We want three troops. Call them the ‘Bow’ troop, the ‘Blade’ troop and the ‘Spear’ troop, unless you can think of something better. Put all the top archers in the Bow tr
oop, the best swordsmen in the Blades and so on.” He laughed and raised both hands as if to ward off a hail storm. “I know. I know. You think it a mistake to give one troop all the best archers. But I want to know where they are. If we need an archery mission, we know who to use. So make your list, and send a messenger with a copy. If you don’t hear otherwise, your selections are final. Anything else?”

  Don could think of nothing. So Robert gathered his gear and walked towards the stables. He soon reappeared, mounted his horse and was gone. Don stopped and took a deep breath, thinking it might be the last time he would be able to stand still for a long time to come.

  He plunged into the most immediate tasks first. He dispatched a message to Ariel asking Samuel if he could find Don a secretary and advised that he needed someone to make three flags and send out invitations to all the usual dignitaries. Then he met with the chief cook of the fort and told him to prepare an ox-roast for a thousand people to be ready on mid-day Saturday. He walked quickly away, leaving the man speechless.

  Returning to the headquarters, he looked over the training records, including the notes made by Philip on Saturday. He assigned the thirty-five recruits with the highest archery scores to Bow Troop. He gave command to Blackie since he was known as an excellent archer, and had done well as acting troop leader. The Blades got the thirty-five recruits who scored the best in sword drill and the tournament, with command given to Slim. The remaining thirty-six recruits he put in the “Lances,” which Don liked better than “Spears.” Carl was given command. Don then assigned all the veterans, more or less randomly, to bring the strength of each troop up to at least fifty. He quickly dashed off a copy of the assignments and dispatched another messenger to take it to Robert for review.