Stoc (A New Druids Series Book 3)

by Donald D. Allan

  Ahead the approaching horses split and slowed. They spread out into two rows. In the centre four riders continued forward at a trot. The two centre figures rode tall in the saddle and with practiced ease. Behind him struggled a figure on a horse who was having difficulty with the horse at speed. To Robert he looked like clergy. Next to him was a chirurgeon dressed in black. One of the men in front seemed to shine in the afternoon sun. He approached a massive display of military might with a calm Robert hardly expected.

  The man stopped about fifty yards beyond the closest phalanx. The vicar behind him stopped as well and moped his brow with a white cloth and then waved it weakly. Robert watched the man reach over and steal the small cloth away and then wave it above his head in a slow circle.

  "It can't be," murmured Robert.

  "Who is that?" muttered Bill.

  "He looks familiar. Come, let's go talk to him," replied Robert.

  "Both of us?"

  "Yes, come on. I've a good feeling about this."

  They called for horses and two were brought forward with a white parley flag attached to a pole. Bill held it aloft and the white pennant fluttered brightly in the light wind. They broke the horses into a trot and closed the lead figure. As they drew closer Robert could make out the features and recognised at last who it was. A grin broke across his face and he rose up in his stirrups.

  "General Bairstow! By the Word! General Bairstow!"

  Brent flashed his teeth and waved. "Just Brent Bairstow now, I'm afraid, Colonel. Sibbald, isn't it? You used to be a major, congratulations. What brings you out to the Crossroads?"

  Seventeen

  Munsten – Privy Council Chambers – end-August 901 A.C.

  AFTER A LIGHT lunch in his chambers, President Healy continued the conversation at the long table that filled the Privy Council conference room. Seated at the table were Mushir Adham, Kamal Sherwami and the newly promoted General Ben Miller. They were dressed in contrast: the sand colour of Adham, the black cloth of Kamal, and the shining half-plate of Miller. The remnants of their lunch lay strewn across the table on platters and truncheons. Healy sat at one end with the others all seated to one side, placing the large windows overlooking the city of Munsten behind them. Fresh wine had been brought in and they resumed their conversation. They had been discussing the series of failures that had Healy furious over the past months. He was only now able to talk about it calmly.

  "Despite your assurances that losing Jergen is not a significant setback and your willingness to lose half your army, I am worried, Mushir. This army of Turgany was to be no match for your men and yet they wiped them out in mere moments."

  Mushir Adham kept his face impassive and waited until Kamal translated the words to him. He then spoke in his speech for a time. Kamal turned to Healy. "Mushir Adham says his men were ambushed at sea. The cannons of your Navy gave them no chance. But he also says it changes nothing. His main strength comes from here in Munsten. His army with yours will be unstoppable."

  Healy shook his head. "That is what you said about the army entering Jergen. They were to be unstoppable. You are not giving me a sense of comfort here. I need assurances that our efforts will be successful."

  "And you have them, President Healy. The army of Mushir Adham is formidable. It has crossed the entire breadth of his continent and was never beaten. The entire land is his. Once your army finishes their training and learns to fight with his men, you will see their strength." Kamal turned to Adham and said something quickly. Adham nodded and remained silent.

  "This language barrier is proving to be tiring," said Healy. The pauses in conversation was irritating and it was getting harder to stay calm.

  Kamal smiled. "Yes, it is, but nothing can be done for it. There are things even I cannot do anything about."

  Ben Miller leaned forward to speak. "Sir, what Mushir Adham says is correct. The army of y-Mushir Hassim were laid waste by cannon fire from the Admiral's ship-of-the-line and two other ships. It was the first time used in anger. The results were devastating. Reports are that over half his army were wiped out just approaching the harbour and all the ships sunk or damaged beyond repair. The Admiral is a potent adversary. With these new weapons any ships—or an army too close to shore—are going to be hurt badly. We heard y-Mushir himself was killed by the guns. If I can find a way to mobilize the guns for use with my Army, I could take the entire realm in mere weeks.

  "Thankfully, y-Mushir Hassim was able to burn two of the Admiral's ships to the waterline. Oil and flaming arrows. That leave the Admiral with three ships. Only one with cannon. The other two remain at Portsmouth stopping the rest of the Fleet from leaving.

  "Intelligence reports from Jergen tell us that the Baron Windthrop had outside assistance. Tough and capable fighters that no one had seen before. Well-armed, trained, and working too well as a team. Friendly to the Baron and guided the action in Jergen. They pushed the men of y-Mushir into the harbour and back into the maw of the Admiral's guns. The Baron has help. He has subsumed the garrison and increased his numbers. They trained together before leaving the city for the Crossroads. The threat is increased and I do not recommend we take this army lightly.

  "Speaking of which, as it is, we train every day to keep our readiness levels. But I do not have good news. My army is not learning to fight with your men, Kamal, begging your pardon. They are learning to fight alongside your men, but quite frankly their methods are too foreign to us and they show no sign of trying to adapt to our methods. We will need to remain in our own formations. The efforts in the field have been eye opening to say the least. I've ordered the men separated back into their formations. The men are now working better together by staying isolated. Discipline remains my main concern. There is a lot of discontent within the Army. They don't trust these men of yours, Kamal. Fights are springing up everywhere."

  "The men of Mushir Adham, not mine," corrected Kamal with a slight bow of his head. Miller frowned confused and looked at Healy.

  President Healy cleared his throat. "Nonetheless Kamal, my army must work alongside the army of Mushir Adham if we are to be successful. The threat from the south cannot be ignored especially if the Baron has help. You are forgetting that Bairstow and those loyal to him are now free and heading south to join Turgany."

  "Yes, sir," said Miller. "They number close to one hundred and fifty. Bairstow is a sound tactician, not as good as Frederick was, but still a threat. His addition to the Turgany army is significant."

  "I still find it unfathomable that he could escape the city so easily."

  "It was Gillespie himself that brought them out. No one would question him. His temper was legendary and his punishment severe. Those on duty never had the mind to question him leaving the city with a large number of men and women soldiers, unarmed as they were. He was an ass and to be honest, the troops would rather see him fail than support him. I've taken the two sergeants he hung around with and moved them out of the city up to Cala. I never trusted them. Violent men and abusive. Just like Gillespie."

  "Have you found Gillespie?"

  "Yes, sir. It's one of the things I need to update you about. We tracked Bairstow to the old manse Redgrave owned some miles south of the city near the coast. Bairstow stopped there for a couple of nights and then headed south to Curachan. He resupplied his people and then continued south to join the Baron at the Crossroads. We found Gillespie lying by a small creek behind the ruins. His throat was sliced open right through to the spine. Whoever killed him hated that man more than most. I would wager Bairstow did the deed."

  Healy drummed the table with the fingers of his right hand and then grunted. "So, Gillespie's dead. No loss to the world, I admit. The man was an idiot. I still fail to understand why you wanted to give that man so much responsibility." This last statement was directed to Kamal. Miller frowned at the words and looked over at Kamal, but the man merely shrugged. Healy scowled and looked back to Miller. "Rest assured Ben, you were chosen by me. Should have been you all along. Po
litics interfered with that. But Redgrave's manse? Why would they go there?" He looked at Kamal, but the man merely looked back at him.

  "No idea, sir," answered Ben. "As I've said, Brent's met up with the Baron of Turgany and his army at the Crossroads. They've been there ever since training and exercising. The good news is the Baron has shown no sign he intends to move toward Munsten. The bad news is our estimates place the total number of enemy soldiers at the Crossroads at a thousand strong."

  Healy drummed the table again and then sat up straighter and reached for his wine goblet. He swirled the fine wine and then set the goblet back down, untouched. "That vicar Martin surprised me. He seemed so craven. And yet he released all those prisoners and Brent. Surprising, all said and done. Who knew he had such depth?"

  "Yes, sir. The turnkey has been executed as per your orders."

  "Good. I cannot suffer those disloyal to the Realm."

  "The escape has been kept quiet. No one knows."

  "I find that unlikely, still, better to try to contain these kinds of things. I remember when..."

  A soft tap at the conference room door interrupted President Healy, and they all looked toward the door. "Enter," he ordered, and the door swung inward to reveal the guard captain on duty outside the room.

  "Sir, a message for you arrived moments ago along with a small sealed sack," announced the man and he strode forward with a silver tray held in both hands. He placed the tray on the table in front of Healy. On the tray was a scrolled missive and a small leather sack, tied tight with wire and sealed with wax. Healy thanked the man, who saluted and backed out of the chamber. The door closed quietly and Healy looked at the others.

  "How strange," he said to them and then examined and broke the Turgany seal on the missive and unrolled it. "It's from Windthrop." He started reading and his eyes grew wider, and he stood up. "What is this? A jest?"

  "What is it, President Healy?" asked Ben Miller. He rose from his seat and came around to stand beside Healy. Healy finished reading the message and handed it over to the General. Miller scanned the words and then read aloud to the others.

  President Healy, the Army of Turgany demands parley at the Crossroads on First Mabon at midday. The subject of your tyranny and the open admission of enemy forces into Belkin requires resolution. The time has come to end your unlawful rule and return the realm to order.

  It is expected you will refuse. We offer an incentive. A taste of that which you have sought for so many years from Bill Redgrave. Signed Lord Andrew Windthrop, Baron of Turgany.

  Healy grabbed the leather sack and broke the wax seal and pulled at the wire securing it. A soft metallic clink could be heard and Healy emptied the sack onto the silver tray. Gold crown coins spilled noisily onto the tray. They glinted in the sunlight coming through the chamber windows. Healy gasped and reached out to snatch a coin. He held it close to his face and looked at both sides. They were old coins but real. Healy sat heavily into his chair and stared at the gold in silence. Mushir Adham stood up and spoke rapidly to Kamal.

  Miller picked up a coin and examined it a moment. He dropped it back on the tray and picked up the small sack. He peered inside and then reached in and pulled out a small piece of paper. Healy looked up and Miller read it.

  There are over five thousand more coins in my possession. Redgrave hid them in the ruins of his old manse. Come get them. Signed General Brent Bairstow.

  He handed the note to Healy who read it once and tossed the note and coin on the tray.

  "The bastard," he said.

  "Who?" asked Miller.

  "Redgrave. He stole that gold right out from under me all those many years ago. I never knew who had taken it until he was found sitting fat and stupid in a small town in Turgany. We searched everywhere for years. Never found a trace. Never figured out how he got the gold out of the treasury." Healy grew quiet and then smashed the table with a fist. The silver tray and coins jumped. "The bastard! All those years he hid the gold under the ashes of his family's grave."

  Mushir Adham spoke again in a rapid manner and pointed at the coins. Kamal frowned and turned to Healy. "Adham asks if this is part of the gold you promised him and have yet to deliver?"

  Healy sighed.

  "What now, my Lord?" inquired Miller after Healy sat fuming for a long time without answering.

  "We march to the Crossroads."

  Miller sat down in the chair next to Healy. "Sir, I cannot recommend that course of action. We are strong and secure here in Munsten. Let them come to us where we control the outcome. They will beat against our walls until nothing remains of the treasonous lot."

  Healy appeared not to have heard and Miller swung in his seat to look to the Mushir for support. The Mushir frowned and turned to Kamal. Miller was surprised to see a small smile appear on Kamal's dark face.

  "I think that will be showing weakness, General Miller. We should march to these crossroads and show the Realm we are not afraid to defend the land from those who would seek to usurp the rightful ruler. Long has Redgrave taunted the rule of President Healy. Your president is correct in what he means to do. With the army of Mushir Adham you cannot lose. We must march to the Crossroads."

  "That is madness!" said Miller. He turned back to Healy. "Sir, please, listen to me as your General. Give me time to pull in more troops. I need more longbow archers from Cala. They won't be here until October at the earliest. The Crossroads is a bad place to fight. It is nothing more than a vast plain. We give up all our advantages."

  Healy blinked and focused on Miller. "Kamal is correct. We march to the Crossroads. Get started. Dismissed."

  Miller sat back in his chair and stared at Healy for a moment. He glanced at Kalam and was aghast to see him openly smiling at him. He scowled and rose from the table. "Yes, sir. For the record, I am against this course of action."

  "Noted. You are dismissed," repeated Healy.

  "Aye, sir," replied Miller. He came to attention and saluted and quickly left the chambers.

  Kamal smiled a little broader. "It has begun."

  Healy nodded, continuing to stare at the gold on the silver tray.

  Eighteen

  The Crossroads – Day after September 21st, 901 A.C.

  DAWN BROKE TO the east on First Mabon sending swaths of bright crimson bursting along the long line of distant clouds on the horizon. North of the Crossroads lay the combined Army of Turgany in neat order. Nearly one thousand men and women were lined up and turned to the north where a half-mile away twelve hundred members of the combined army of the President stood in opposition. On closer inspection, the Turgany Army could be seen sweating despite the abnormally cold morning for September. The cool air with the warm, dew-covered grass had lifted a thin fog that drifted across the field. Rains had held off for a week and the field between the armies was dry with grass, full of seed, no higher than the knees.

  Behind the Army of Turgany the leaders sat astride their destriers. The flags of Turgany and the Baron flapped lazily in the wind. The Baron sat ramrod straight in the saddle trying to strike a pose that would instil courage in the men and women fighting for him. Beside him was General Brent Bairstow, his rank restored by the Baron when Colonel Sibbald insisted and the men and women nearby cheered until he agreed. Beside Brent was Major James Dixon, his rank restored and then promoted by Brent.

  The army of the President lined up across the field, led by General Ben Miller. Cavalry, archers and pike men stood hazy in the foggy air. On the flanks were the strange men from the East. Some were on horseback but most remained on foot. They were in constant motion--circling and jeering. The result was considerable noise from the field. Men and women conversed and the noise only grew louder.

  Miller had arrived the day before and spent the time setting up his camp and moving back and forth across the line. Brent had formed up yesterday to keep an eye on Miller. It had been a long day. Nearby, the Crossroads had emptied on siting Miller's army. The shops and taverns had vacated and moved well to the south
. Sensing a feast, crows circled above riding the currents.

  Brent turned his head to look behind him as Vicar Martin came hustling up to speak to him.

  "Th-huff-the chirurgeons tents are setup as directed, General Bairstow."

  "Very good, Vicar Martin."

  "If you please, I would like to remain here and help where I can," said Martin out of breath.

  Baron Windthrop snorted. "What are you going to do to help?"

  Vicar Martin looked first to Brent and then to the Baron in some surprise. "Why, Lord Windthrop, I will attend to the men and women of your army and see to their spiritual needs. Especially when close to death. Many will need the comfort of prayer and the words of God."

  The Baron looked awry and said nothing.

  Brent smiled at Martin. "That would be most welcome, Vicar Martin. Please be careful. I can't spare anyone to watch over you."

  "I place my safety in the hands of God."

  Brent nodded.

  James leaned over. "Tell me, Vicar, is Edward with the chirurgeons?"

  "He rather insisted on it. He has already caused quite an uproar with them. They had to be reminded that he is the heir to the throne. Now he has them boiling water and bandages."

  The Baron grunted. He had not taken the news well. He was no longer the next in line for the throne. He had disputed Edward Hitchens claim until he had lowered his hood and seen what he looked like. There could be no doubt in anyone's mind: he was the son of the late King. Except for the Baron. He continued to argue despite the evidence until Brent suggested that he have the druids confirm it. The Baron stopped arguing and instead became even more ornery.

  "Daft lot those chirurgeons. Wish we had Will here," muttered James.

  The Baron looked sharply at James. "Major Dixon, that's enough of that."

  "Yes, my Lord," came the meek reply, but James winked at Brent.