For once, the laws might work for her, rather than against her.
After several miles of travel, they paused for breath next to a large, rectangular rock that looked like it had been implanted in the dirt. Moss covered the sides; the bottom jutted firmly into the ground. William leaned against it, arching his back and brandishing his sword.
"I wish we'd killed him," William said.
"Theodore?"
"Yes."
Ella looked over instinctively to scold him, but realized she had the same feelings. The Theodore Marks she and William had known—the young man from Brighton—didn't exist anymore. He might've let them go, but his clothing bore the evidence of the people he'd killed.
"We should've rushed him while he was surprised," William said, pursing his lips and looking at Bray. "We could've taken him down. We could've paid him back for what he did to the people in Davenport."
"If we'd done that, we would've alerted the others," Bray said. "Bravery is admirable, but stupidity is stupidity."
William turned his eyes to the ground. "But we've lost the tracks we were following. How are we going to pick them up? And with the snow?"
"We'll circle back later," Bray said. "It will be more difficult, but we'll find a way. Either that or we'll cut ahead of the soldiers."
Ella's heart leapt in her chest. As relieved as she was to be out of immediate danger, she feared for the Davenport survivors.
"What if the soldiers catch up to them first?"
"I don't think they will." Bray peered at the sky. "If they know what's good for them, the soldiers will set up camp soon. It's almost dusk. The tracks will be harder to follow."
"But what if they search through the night, like the other soldiers?"
"The other soldiers weren't following tracks, I don't think. It looked like they were just searching. Tracks are hard to follow by torch light."
"And what about us? What will we do?" William asked.
Bray scoured the thick, untrodden forest, as if searching for something. His gaze roamed from the ground to the sky. "We've gone farther west than I planned. But I know of a place we can stay." He grunted. "It's not ideal."
Bray walked off. Ella didn't ask for further information, and Bray didn't offer any. Any place was better than bedding down on the ground between the trees.
They followed him, leaving the rock behind. Ella's legs were sore from sprinting; her boots were stretched and worn. If she'd had more time, she would've grabbed more supplies in Davenport. But that plan, like many of her others, had been wrecked by the soldiers.
Ella, Bray, and William crossed miles of untouched wilderness, elms and oaks presiding over smaller plants below. Rag and pigweed gave way to patches of small ferns, which tickled their legs as they passed. Eventually they reached higher ground. Bray pointed through the trees. Ella squinted and followed his finger. It took her a second to determine what he was pointing out.
Standing in the distance, tucked between several trees, was a rectangular, overgrown structure. It looked like it was constructed from pieces leftover from the Ancients. The walls were overlaid with tree limbs and leaves, masking its presence. An animal skin hung on a nearby tree. Someone had been here recently.
Had it not been called to her attention, she would've missed it.
"Is that a…a house?" she asked.
Bray nodded.
They walked closer, surveying the building. The foundation was constructed of flat rocks, elevating the dwelling several feet above the ground. The door hung open on a broken hinge. It looked like the place had been ransacked. It wasn't until Ella got within ten yards that she saw the damage that had been done inside. The walls were blackened and charred; several decomposed skeletons lay against the far wall.
"What happened here?" she whispered, dreading the answer.
"The people inside were burned," Bray answered.
Ella swallowed.
The Warden led them to the doorway. When he reached it, he wielded his sword toward the entrance, as if he expected someone to spring out from inside. Once he decided it was safe, he leapt through the opening. Ella boosted William up and then stepped through, herself.
Other than the three bodies, the dwelling was empty. No furniture. No possessions. Anything the occupants had was gone—looted by humans, animals, or both. One of the skeletons was wearing the remains of a dress. It appeared to be a child. The others were adults. Tattered strips of burnt clothing hung on their bones, bearing the teeth marks of scavenging rodents. The building smelled stale, abandoned. William retreated to one of the walls, his eyes wide.
"I don't want to sleep here, Mom," he said.
Ella couldn't take her eyes off the bodies. She didn't want to sleep in the abandoned house either. The charred, half-dressed skeletons reminded her of those she'd seen at The Cleansing. Friends and acquaintances she'd said goodbye to, people who'd been condemned to die.
Ethan.
"Who would do this?" she whispered.
Bray gestured to the remains. "Two of Blackthorn's blue shirts. They killed these people and set fire to their bodies."
Ella's anger roiled. "For breaking what law? What could a child have done?"
"They were traitors. They lived outside the rule of the townships."
"Were they demon-eaters?" William asked.
"No. That is a tale believed only by young soldiers, as you heard the blue shirts say. They were normal settlers—a mother, father, and child. People like you or I."
"I don't want to sleep among them."
"We don't have a choice," Bray said. He pointed through the doorway. The light was fading behind the tips of the trees. "I don't know of any other suitable shelter. Not close by, anyway."
"Won't their spirits haunt us while we sleep?" William asked.
"William—" Ella started, ready to dismiss his childish beliefs. At the same time, she herself was uncertain.
"These people lived in the forest," William said. "That means they lived without the protection of the townships, or the protection of The Word. That means they were condemned to hell."
"They won't haunt us," Bray said. "They were good people."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I knew them."
Chapter 20: Beck
"He said he would put you on the pyre if you didn't accompany him to the Ancient City?" Evan asked as he walked beside Beck in the waning hours of the day. "Right there, when you were talking to General Blackthorn on the dais with Father Winthrop?"
Beck took a long, audible breath through his nose, letting the noise of it convey his frustration over the question. He kicked through the snow that had built up in the fallow field where he and Evan were walking. "Blackthorn is complex. He doesn't have to explicitly speak his mind to convey a thought, especially in the area of threats."
"He can be a menacing man," Evan agreed. "Are you sure you didn't misunderstand?"
"No doubt."
"He's taking you on the military expedition, then?"
Beck nodded.
"Do you think you have cause to worry, with the entire militia there to protect you? In fact, it sounds like you'll be safer out there than we will be here."
"It seems that way," Beck said. "Doesn't it seem odd to you in the least that the size of the expedition is exactly the number that you provided to Captain Tenbrook as the number of people that needed to be eliminated from current population levels in order for the rest to survive the coming famine?"
"Odd." Evan nodded vigorously. "Yes, very much. Do you think General Blackthorn is lying about the demon horde in the Ancient City?"
Beck nodded. "Exactly what I think."
"Then you'll be in no danger at all."
Beck shook his head. "I have no doubt that something is out there. I also believe that something is capable of killing nineteen thousand of our people."
"People that are going to die anyway," Evan said as he dragged his feet through the thin layer of muddy snow. "We can't feed them."
>
Beck let his attention linger a moment on the furrows left by Evan's feet in the snow. "With winter coming, perhaps he intends only to lead them far enough into the wilderness that he can abandon them to starvation and cold."
"It would be an expeditious, ruthless solution to the problem," said Evan. "If nothing else, General Blackthorn is pragmatic. From what I know of him, I would not be surprised if that were his plan."
"And that would explain why he wants all three ministers along. The people would follow the three of us with no doubt in their hearts." Beck kicked a small pile of snow, sending a puff of white into the wind. He watched the flakes sparkle as they drifted.
"Yet you still believe there is more to this than meets the eye?"
"Of course," Beck nodded again. "If not, then why lie?"
"Minister Winthrop would not approve," Evan suggested. "He'd protest too vociferously, I think. Perhaps General Blackthorn merely wishes to avoid having a disgruntled Winthrop spread inadvertent, seditious rumors as he bemoans the situation to his novices."
"General Blackthorn is an astute player of the political game. Sometimes I believe he knows what a man will do before the man even knows himself." Beck tucked his hands into his pockets and sighed. "That may be the truth of it. I just don't believe that is all of it."
"Do you believe you are in danger?" Evan asked. "It doesn't make sense that General Blackthorn would be a danger to you in the wilderness. If he wanted you dead, there is nothing to stop him from putting you on the pyre right now. Is that true?"
"Yes," Beck nodded. "Blackthorn's power of the pyre is absolute. He needs only command it and his blue shirts see that it is done. Still, I am suspicious."
"What then?"
Beck didn't answer. He walked into the wind instead, thinking through his options. Was a coup the best choice? Could Blackthorn be toppled? Even if he could oust Blackthorn, what of the coming famine and the unsolvable problem of feeding those extra nineteen thousand mouths?
Perhaps Beck could plan an escape, taking a band of loyal, intelligent scholars and riding off the edge of the map, leaving Blackthorn and his throngs of ignorant followers to their fate.
Any solution was likely to cost more coin than he had available to him. Everything always did.
Of one thing he was increasingly sure: he didn't want to ride out with Blackthorn and his army. That was a dangerous folly clearly meant to be the end of nineteen thousand hungry farmers and tradesmen. Even if Blackthorn meant him and Winthrop no harm, what would a mob of armed men, nineteen thousand strong, do once they realized they were stranded far from home in the winter, with no walls and roof to shelter them and no food in their bellies? It wouldn't be good to be the warm, fur-wrapped minister, sitting atop a stallion, looking down on them when they came to that realization.
Beck understood in that moment that he needed to find a way to come up with a pile of coin in a hurry.
"Evan, tell me of this question that Winthrop's novice Franklin brought to you."
Evan's face showed his frustration. "It's not a simple question of historical counts and extrapolations."
Beck sighed. "What is the question?"
"He wants to know what portion of all men in the three townships takes their faith to heart."
"Would you not simply ask them?"
"No," Evan said, flabbergasted. "Of course not."
"Why?" asked Beck, offended at Evan's response.
"First, I have not the time, nor the scholars, to assign to the task of asking every man in the three towns that question. Even if I could, how would a man answer it? Our culture burdens us with the expectation that we attend and listen when our clergymen deem that we should. Nearly all do so. Those who don't are often spoken about behind their backs or publicly derided. Yet, as you well know, when you sit in the pews and daydream about things you'd rather be doing, you see others nod off to sleep. Some whisper rumors. Only a few seem to pay much attention. My belief is that, if I asked the question of a dozen men, nearly all would say they are devoted to The Word to one degree or another. My intuition tells me that result would be very wrong. I believe only a minority of our townsfolk are fervently devoted to The Word. I think by asking the question of faith, the answer we'd actually be receiving is some measure of social pressure. And that doesn't even account for the ambiguity of the question being asked. How does one define a fervent devotion to The Word?"
To his surprise, Beck found Evan's minutiae much more interesting than he ever would have guessed. "Let me ask you another question."
"Yes?"
"Why do you believe Father Winthrop wants this information?"
"I…well…um." Evan looked around at the snowy field as he searched his imagination for the answer. "I don't know."
"If he wishes to take a count of attendees, that would be a simple matter, would it not?"
Evan put on a sour face. "Father Winthrop can't read and barely knows a number past ten." He clearly had no respect for Father Winthrop's choice to shun any learning outside of The Word.
"But his novice Franklin, or that clever scamp of his, Oliver, could do it for him, correct?"
"Yes, yes," Evan agreed. "Some members of the clergy are more than capable. Not all share Father Winthrop's disdain for education."
"We can deduce, then, that his question stems from some other purpose than simple curiosity about his flock."
"Okay." Evan was reluctant to agree.
"I wonder," said Beck, "if Winthrop, zealous dimwit that he is, has finally found his spine. How many times can a man kowtow and snivel before his thorny little crumb of pride pokes him into action? I wonder if he, like me, has grated under Blackthorn's dominance long enough that he has finally chosen to do something about it."
"I don't understand," said Evan.
"If Father Winthrop did somehow come to the conclusion that he needed to do something to change the balance of power on the council, would it not make sense that he first assess his own power base? He has no control over the cavalry, the militia, or the city guard, but what if he has the hearts and the ears of the people? Could he not construe The Word to his purpose, to put himself in charge via a coup?"
"Yes," said Evan. "This would be a logical first step."
"Then let us mislead him into a false confidence," said Beck. "Tell Novice Franklin that you have concluded your study and that you have found that nine of ten men are devoted to The Word, devoted beyond question. When you find yourself pressed for what that means, you tell them that nine of ten would do anything—and emphasize that part—that Father Winthrop, through The Word, instructs them to do."
"I don't feel comfortable with the lie, but I will do as you instruct."
"Of course you will," said Beck. "You'll also take this one step further. We have many tasks to perform. Tell me what you know of that clever boy, Oliver. I think he may be of use to us."
"How so?" Evan asked.
"For now, I'll keep that to myself. Let's walk back to the square and watch the militia finish up their drills. I believe we may find some curiosities there."
Chapter 21: Ella
"What do you mean you knew them?" Ella asked Bray. She looked back and forth over the bodies of the settlers. She focused on the smallest one. "You let a child die, and you did nothing to help?"
Bray was silent for a moment. All of the sudden, he jabbed his sword into the floor and his eyes lit with anger. "They chose to break Blackthorn's laws. It's not my fault they were killed."
"You said two soldiers did this. That means you saw this happen."
Bray hefted his sword and took a step toward Ella, as if to threaten her. He turned in the other direction. He walked to the barren doorway and pounded the wall, then stared out into the forest, his shoulders heaving.
He remained silent for several minutes, staring vacantly into the wilderness while snow fell past the doorway. Ella inched over to William and drew him close. She clung to the boy's arm, suddenly fearful and protective. The Warden had scar
ed her.
"It's okay, William," she whispered. "It'll be okay."
After a moment of silence, Bray spoke.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to do that. It's not often that I—"
"It's all right," Ella said. He'd been through a lot. They all had. "You said you knew them?"
Bray drew a deep breath. "Yes. The mother and father were named Henry and Tabatha. I met their daughter by the river about a year ago. Her name was Harriet. When I came upon her, Harriet was collecting water for her mother, but her mother had lost track of her. When Harriet saw me, she tried running, but I convinced her I meant her no harm. I brought her back to her mother and helped them carry their things. When we got to their dwelling, they took me in and gave me a meal. I repaid them with weapons and protection."
"Every so often, I stopped and checked in on the family, trading belongings from the townships that they couldn't get on their own. In return, they gave me food and a place to sleep when I needed it. The last time I saw them was a few months ago."
Bray paused, heaving a thick sigh.
"I'd just returned from a trip to Coventry. I warned them that Blackthorn's blue shirts were sweeping the area, searching for settlers. I'd seen them on the way. Henry promised me they were heading east. He said they were going to build a new home, farther away from the townships. I wished them well and bid them goodbye. I didn't think I'd see them again."
"A few days later, after a trip to Coventry, I saw smoke in the distance. By the time I got to the house, all three of them were dead, their bodies burned. I saw two soldiers leaving the vicinity. I tracked them, but by the time I caught up, they'd already rejoined a larger group of blue shirts." Bray looked over his shoulder at them. His eyes were red and ringed; his normally hardened face seemed soft. "There was nothing I could do."
Ella huddled in the corner with William. "Should we bury them?"
The Warden shook his head. "The bodies need to remain untouched. Other settlers live out here. Touching them will prove more people live in the area, and that'll bring even more soldiers."
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