A few deserters had been captured. They had been unable to add useful information though they had talked freely. To a man, they had been in fear of the “mighty warrior on the red horse.” They all had claimed to have seen him slaughter infantry without mercy. They had no more stomach for this war.
Immediately after the army had departed, Don had ordered a small delegation to proceed east, under a flag of truce and blowing a bugle, to try to make contact with any defenders that might be guarding the tunnel. They had met with a dozen soldiers. They had been poorly equipped, so Don had given each of them a captured mail coat and a pike. The guards had heard the sound of battle, but had not been able to get a clear idea what had happened. They had been incredulous to learn that an enemy army of over twenty thousand men had passed within ten miles of them. They had promised to send back a report by carrier pigeon Such reporting was apparently the main reason that they were there.
Meanwhile, the attack on the supply lines had begun again as soon as it was clear that the leading elements of General Logan’s army had started up First Pass. More of the gunpowder bombs had been emplaced that night at a dozen places along the highway. A thin thread made of braided sinew and painted black had been stretched across the way and was attached to the detonator of each bomb. If the thread was pulled, as by the hoof of a passing horse, the bomb would explode and fire a deadly pattern of cast iron chunks. Each bomb was attached to a stake in the ground, so that any attempt to move it would also cause it to explode. When these bombs had begun going off, all traffic had ceased for an entire day.
A force of fifty men had been scraped together, outfitted with mail, shields and spears. They had been untrained, but certainly looked like horse troopers. They had blocked the road at Battle Ridge, making it impossible for wagons to move through the gap without an armed escort. The Raiders had been reluctant to confront them, and the heavy cavalry had gone with the army. Again, all traffic on this stretch of the road had ground to a stop. The wagons needed an escort of foot troops, armed with crossbows, in order to move, but it had taken a considerable time for the soldiers from New Castle to march down the highway, drive away the untrained horse troop from Battle Ridge, and escort the wagons through.
The Diné had also resumed their attacks, firing arrows at caravans, burning stored hay in night attacks, and escorting grenadiers to cliffs where they could attack wagons on the road below. The combined efforts of all these harassing tactics had slowed the transportation of supplies to a trickle. This must have been a major factor in General Logan’s decision to turn north. It had been the only way to insure supplies for his army.
†
Samuel’s headquarters had been repaired and made habitable again. Fort Baldy had been renamed “Fort Robert” and was nearly back to its former condition. Don had appointed Blackie to be the assistant commander of all the horse troop command. He had been invited, along with Carl, the Lance Troop commander, to discuss the delegation that would be going east. Abel and Fred were also there, and Philip took notes. The fact that Don had taken Robert’s place as overall commander was unquestioned by all, though he had not yet been formally appointed.
After some discussion, they agreed that the delegation would consist of Samuel, Donald, two horse troops as honor guard, and the four guns that had been used before. There would be ten scouts and a couple of messengers on fast horses. A small missile weapon force would consist of ten mounted crossbowmen and ten grenadiers. The sixteen members of the gun crews would be armed with muskets. They would take a healer, a heliograph operator and a cage of pigeons. Also, they would take someone who had witnessed the Glenwood Massacre.
Samuel said that Philip would come along, too, as well as the two bodyguards, Bobby and Eric. Blackie had been somewhat reluctant to give up two troops, but had finally agreed. Then Don, Samuel and Eric went to present the proposal to a joint meeting of the leaders of Ariel and Bethuel.
This meeting had been difficult. None of the leaders wanted to give up the guns. Nor did they want to lose any of the horse troops. John, commander of the Ariel levy, had objected. Del Pembroke, of Bethuel, had nearly been apoplectic. Samuel had tried to explain that if the Prophet defeated the cities to the east, he could then come back and destroy their two towns at his leisure.
“You would have no chance to use the guns,” Samuel said. “He would not need to use his guns, either. He would be in no hurry. He could simply surround the towns and starve us out. Even if it took a year, we would have to eventually surrender.”
“The really wise thing to do, from a strategic standpoint,” said Abel, “would be to send every man that can hold a spear east to Hightower and join in the battle. If they lose, we lose.”
Philip could see clearly that the leaders would never agree to sending their levies east. They were still concerned with the remaining infantry at New Castle. He worked hard, keeping notes of the discussion. After much debate, the group agreed to send one troop, the Blades, east. They reluctantly agreed to send three cannons, but no more.
Charles, representing the weapons masters, suggested that Rob accompany the delegation with samples of the gunpowder bombs. “He might be able to help the other towns devise something similar,” he said. That was the only positive suggestion for the day.
†
After the meeting, Don had a few minutes alone with Samuel. There was one thing that he had wanted to ask, and now seemed to be as good a time as any. “Samuel,” he began, hesitantly, “There is one thing that I wanted to ask.”
“And what might that be, ‘Mighty Lore-man of the Red Horse?’” asked Samuel with a small smile.
Don’s face suddenly felt warm. He paused for a second. “You very well know that this tall tale was none of my doing!”
Samuel turned and put his one hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Of course I do. Robert told me about it. He was right, you know. He needed a hero. We all needed a hero, and you were convenient.” He paused, as if choosing his words. “Still, what I said was not exactly a joke. Now, I was teasing you a bit—that’s true. Don’t want you to get a swelled head—but the legend is not altogether wrong, you know.”
“What legend?” asked Don, not sure what Samuel was trying to say.
“Don’t you know? You really did lead the charge that day, and the people here will never forget. When you finally die, and God grant you have great-grandchildren before that day, the people will want to bring your body back here like you did Old Robert’s. As we speak, the story about you is probably being told in every farmstead west of the mountains. You are famous. Maybe not your name, but the ‘lore-man on the red horse, the terror of the battlefield’—that tale has probably been heard in the Prophet’s palace. The tale will grow in the telling, and that is a good thing.”
“Maybe so,” said Don. “But I find it embarrassing. I am afraid that everyone that knows me thinks it is ridiculous. I don’t like to be mocked, especially behind my back.”
“No one is mocking you, Donald. Your men are proud of you! So are your friends. Believe that! Now what did you want to ask?”
“The arms at Owl Hollow—those of the secret that must never be revealed—what did you decide to do with them? I know that they were not used, not so far, at least I never heard of it.”
That brought Samuel to a complete stop. He looked at the floor for a time. “That was my most difficult decision, probably, of this entire campaign. Had I brought them here and were they used, I fear that the Prophet would have ordered the general to stay here until he captured our armory and the secret of re-creating the old weapons.”
“But we have not re-created them.”
“You could never have convinced the Prophet of that, if we had started firing hundreds or thousands of bullets. No, it would have been the Dixie Rebellion, all over again. On the other hand, if we had them here and did not use them, we risked their captur
e.”
“Could you not have kept them until the last? Used them only if Ariel was doomed?”
“I thought of that, but by then it was too late. So to answer your question, they are still hidden in a safe place. And maybe that is for the best. We might still find them valuable before this war is over!”
†
That night, Philip was sitting on the cot in the commander’s tent that was pitched, again, next to the parade ground at Fort Robert. He had once again been appointed to be Donald’s aide, and was glad of it. A messenger came to the open flap with messages for Lord Don. Philip had agreed to give them into his hand. A few minutes later, Don entered, nodded to Philip, and threw his riding gloves on his cot. He halted on the other side of the central folding table that held a dim alcohol lamp. He did not look happy.
“What’s wrong?” asked Philip, rising to his feet.
“Deborah will be riding with us,” came the answer. “She was an actual witness of the executions. She was a heroine—went out under a flag of truce to treat enemy wounded—those in agony. She took them to the House of Healing and somehow saw it all—the executions. Samuel said that she is not only an eyewitness, she is also a skilled nurse. I tried to talk him out of it.”
“Why not bring her?” asked Philip in confusion. He liked Deborah. He knew there had been friction between her and Donald.
“Oh. I don’t know,” said Don, sitting down and rubbing the back of his neck. “I really don’t know how to deal with her. Not that I think she will actually cause serious problems.”
“Oh,” said Philip. “Here are some messages.” He rose and handed the small bundles to Don.
Don took the package and spread the messages on the table next to the lamp. He drew up a stool, broke the seal and began to read. “Hmm … This one is from Stonegate,” he said. “They thank us for the information and our offer to help them. They invite us to come for a conference and would be grateful for any assistance. I need to show this to Samuel.”
He opened the second message. It was only one page. Don noticed that he read it carefully, shook his head, and then read it again. He laid it down and stared into the dark corner of the tent for a long time.
“What is it?” asked Philip. He felt a bit anxious. It must be important!
“It is from Rachel,” said Don. “It says that she very much wants to see me again.”
†
Don drew the Stonegate sword from its scabbard and took a sharpening stone from his saddle bags. He began to draw the stone down its length, putting on a final edge. He would not stop until it was keen enough to make Gray John smile.
He had just finished when he heard the bugler blow “Taps.” The hauntingly beautiful notes drifted across the silent post. It made him think of Robert and all the others that had fallen. He stepped outside the tent and looked up at the moon, cold and remote. He wondered if Rachel might be looking up at the same moon. He felt closer to her, somehow, and his heart felt warm. Then his thoughts drifted to the words of Samuel, said while they were overlooking the walls of Ariel: When we defeat this army, and you see how God answers prayers, you will find your faith. He thought about that. He decided that it was true, in a way. He had no doubt that God existed, and perhaps that was enough for now.
†
By mid-morning, the delegation was riding eastward up the Great Highway. Once again, Don was riding Snap. Philip rode behind, leading Red, riding next to Eric, who rarely left Don’s side. Don had with him everything he owned in the world. Even the ornate, gold-mounted sword, given to him by Ariel, hung on the pack saddle, where he also had a fat purse. And Deborah was riding next to him, stirrup to stirrup. She looked at him and smiled a sad little smile. They were comfortable together, and perhaps that was also enough for now. Snow-capped peaks rose before them. He was glad that every step was drawing him closer to the woman that he loved. He touched the horn pen case on his belt, where the latest letter was tucked. He had two of them now. He did not know if he would ever see Ariel again as a living person, nor what the future would hold, but he was sure of two things. He yet had something to do before he could rest, and he could feel the hand of God resting lightly on his shoulder.
If God be for us, who can be against us?
Romans 8:31b
†
Afterword
The tale of Stonegate takes place a bit more than a century in the future after the collapse of civilization in North America. After decades of recovery, the society is in some ways similar to the medieval period in Europe. There is a common language, related to English. Many of the crafts and trades found here would be familiar to our ancestors. But with the progress beyond subsistence existence, the old scourge of mankind, war, also makes a reappearance.
The affairs of humans have drastically changed, but the landscape, climate, flora and fauna remain largely the same. Walled towns have taken the place of some of the old cities. Stonegate is the transformed town of Fort Collins. Hightower once was called “Denver.” Junction was formerly known as “Grand Junction.” The resort town of Steamboat Springs has had its name shortened to “Steamboat.” Bethuel and Ariel have no earlier counterpart. Lady Lilith’s keep is near the town once known as “Kremmling.”
Terrain features have also changed names. The Front Range of Colorado is now known as the “Western Wall.” The Colorado River has been corrupted to “Kolaroo.” Vail Pass is called by people in Ariel “First Pass.” But the descriptions of these places is intended to faithfully represent what would be found on the ground.
The Prophet and his new religion are not intended to be typical of anything that existed before. They represent a corruption and perversion of some 21st Century beliefs, but that is all they are intended to represent.
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