“Then I thank you for your trouble. Eat and rest. I will have you return with my answer in the morning.”
Leaving the messenger to his meal, Reuben walked away for some distance, beckoning Danny to follow. When they were out of earshot, Reuben whispered, “Has he seen Donald?”
“No, my friend,” came the answer. “He has never seen Donald. He is false in every way. The red horse is a legend, and Donald is no giant, either.”
Danny’s sense of harmony was now overshadowed by a feeling of foreboding. Disharmony lay ahead.
Chapter 17
†
Arrival at Stonegate
They are the ones who will dwell on the heights, whose refuge will be the mountain fortress. Their bread will be supplied, and water will not fail them. Isaiah 33: 16 NIV
Rain was falling steadily as Donald and his troops left Longmont late Sunday night. The final leg of their journey lay ahead of them. Don could not stand any further delay, and the road was straight and well-kept, so he decided leave before sunup in order to arrive at Stonegate in the early afternoon. It was a good thirty miles, but they had fresh horses, and a stable at the other end, so they pressed on hard. He planned to bypass the small towns of Loveland and Greely, since he understood that they were already on friendly terms with Stonegate. Meeting with Samuel was uppermost in Donald’s mind, as was catching up with Deborah. He wondered if she had given Rachel the note he had sent.
Before leaving, good news had reached him that Harley and Jarrad, who oversaw the recruiting teams, had managed to recruit many men from each of the towns and villages near Hightower. Supplies were being requisitioned, and wagon trains were already being formed to bring them north. The bad news was that the recruits were mostly untrained, and there was a shortage of arms.
There was no word from Haven or the House of Healing. He and Samuel had both sent several requests for at least one more horse troop, but silence had been their only answer. Samuel had sent the last of the pigeons, so that means of communication was gone. That reminded him of Philip, Eli, and Colin. He said a quiet prayer for their safety.
The sight of the Stonegate city walls was almost too good to be true. The square-topped towers gave off a soft glow, wreathed by morning mist lit by the rising sun. Don had dreamed of this for months, ever since Rachel had departed. He had often longed to simply leave and return here and plead his case with her. Now her house was only a few miles away. He vowed to break away and join her, right after meeting with Samuel.
It was late morning when they arrived, weary from their almost non-stop journey. The lack of sleep was taking its toll on man and beast. Now, the stone towers and walls of this magnificent city rose to bar their way, reminding Donald that he may not be welcome here. A few unfamiliar-looking guards manned the gates, watching as the small procession of men approached.
“And who might ye be?” the taller one asked, looking directly into Donald’s eyes.
“I am Donald of Fisher, here to meet with Samuel of Gibeah who is here with his troops. Our men are at your service to help defend this fine town from our common enemy,” announced Don, hoping that there would be no trouble.
“I see, I see…to be sure I’ve heard of ye and some of it not all too good…but I believe that Samuel of Gibeah has spoken highly of ye and explained to some of us about the misunderstandings ye’ve had here.” The guards’ stern faces suddenly creased with smiles.
Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or a near-dreamlike state, but Donald sensed that long-closed doors were opening and not just the physical city gates. Instead of hostility and arguments, he and his men were quickly allowed to pass. He was grateful for the surprisingly warm welcome. For a while now broad vistas of his life had been unfolding before him, as though a much greater power was leading him on to his destiny.
“Thank you for the kind words,” said Don, smiling as he rode by. He was pleased that Samuel had managed to pave the way for such a friendly reception. “Can you direct me to where Samuel of Gibeah may be staying?”
“For sure, it be my pleasure. He be staying in the Stonegate Inn, right in the middle of town…you can’t miss it…and may God be with ye.”
As the party of armed horsemen filed into town, people everywhere paused to look. There were no cheers nor waves, but faces were friendly. It seemed as if they somehow knew who he was. It was as if they were expecting him, and everything from the past had been forgotten and forgiven. If true, Donald could only hope that Rachel felt the same. If this represented the mood of the leadership, the change in attitude toward him was nothing short of a miracle. As they approached the center of town, the stone façade of the Stonegate Inn loomed before them. Everyone was hungry and tired, longing for a hot meal, a cold ale, a soapy bath, and a bed.
The sign outside read in neatly chalked letters:
DINNER SPECIAL
Soup of the Day: Chicken and Corn with fresh herbs
Main Course: Braised Rabbit with steamed vegetables and gravy
Dessert: Fresh fruit and whipped cream
The men opted for the special as if hunger pangs had quite overcome them, and, upon entering the inn, they ordered their meals immediately, as well as jugs of ale and cider.
Samuel was nowhere to be seen, and, upon further inquiry, Don was told that, indeed, Samuel and a few of his men had been there the previous night. The horse troopers were staying in one of the barracks. But Samuel, himself, had since left at the invitation of the lore-master, Duncan of Stonegate, and was staying at the lore-house for the time being. Happy memories of time spent there flooded Don’s memory. But he also remembered Gray John and his bitter anger, when he blamed Don for the killing of Rachel’s parents. Then there were others, such as Lord Cal and Thomas of Longmont, who had once mentored him. Perhaps some had even defended his character, or was that too much to hope for?
He wished that Howard, Rachel’s brother, could forgive him—and Rachel, herself, for that matter. How is she? He couldn’t help but wonder, realizing how close, yet maybe so very far away, she really was from him. Perhaps he should simply drop everything and ride to her farm. He knew the way very well. In fact, he had ridden that way many times in his mind, imagining every step and every turn of the short journey.
He passed Eric on the ancient pavement, who told him that an enemy scout had been captured and was being interrogated in the citadel in the center of town. That was worrisome, because where scouts were, the main body of the False Prophet’s army could not be too far behind. The cities’ time was getting short.
He also heard that Deborah and Thad and some troop officers were staying at the Quill and Sword inn, which was across the road from the lore-master’s house. The drink-maid was a wealth of information, even commenting on how pretty Deborah had looked. However, the three-course meal was consumed more quickly than usual, as Don encouraged his men to move on to the next inn where they could bed down for the night. He would wait until morning to see Samuel and the lore-master. Then, at last, he would ride to see Rachel.
†
The Quill and Sword inn was lit up with outside lanterns and inside candles and large lamps on wooden stands. Music played softly in the background, and as meal time was over, only a few drinkers remained in the bar, some of them recognizable as Samuel’s troops. Greetings ensued all around and more ale ordered, as Don arrived with his men. Don mingled with them briefly. Several people told him the same fragment of news: a band of scouts had been seen in the mountains to the west, and their armor was that of the Raiders. The air was hot inside. Don stepped back out to return his heavy cloak to his saddlebags. The horses were tethered outside, and Don rewarded his two, Snap and Red, with a carrot each that he had saved from the last farm they’d visited.
As he was standing there, a runner delivered him a message from Samuel. It was only a few lines, but he felt a cold chill, as if an icicle had stabbed him in t
he small of his back. The recently captured man had revealed that the False Prophet had sent out his Black Caps, trained assassins, with orders to kill Donald of Goldstone and other top leaders. The note ended: “Take care, Donald. These men are feared and for good reason!” Don slipped the note into his horn pen-case. Just then, he heard a step behind him and whirled around.
“There you are, Lord Don,” said Eric, who was accompanied by Bobby and Jenkins.
Don greeted the three. Eric mentioned hearing the same story of enemy assassins. He had also heard that a group of Raiders had set up camp somewhere in the foothills of the mountains west of Stonegate. They were apparently keeping a close eye on what was going on.
This would be a convenient opportunity for Bobby to get a message to the enemy. Don suddenly realized that Colin had been the one primarily responsible to keep an eye on Bobby and watch his every move. But Colin was gone, perhaps on a fool’s errand. Who has been watching Bobby? I hope that Samuel had someone do it. Maybe we should arrest him now.
“Eric, I need to have a word with you in private,” he whispered, as soon as Bobby was out of earshot. “But, first of all, where is Deborah?”
Eric moved over to a corner table for two with Don, so they could talk quietly. Don watched Bobby with the intensity of a hunting falcon. “She’s taking a bath after dinner, but she told us that she will come down once she has freshened up. She should be here any minute.”
Don was relieved that she had arrived in Stonegate safely, and that he could soon ask her about Rachel. “I need you to take turns tonight with one of my other men watching Bobby. If he leaves to go anywhere in the middle of the night, you must alert the others quickly and follow him.”
“But…I don’t understand?” questioned Eric, looking puzzled.
Eric’s eyes grew wide, as Don continued explaining. “Initially, Samuel, Colin, and I kept this secret, and we have been keeping an eye on him ourselves. But now, since we have information that a spy camp is nearby, I suspect that he will visit them soon—perhaps tonight. If we follow him to the camp, we will have a good chance of eliminating them all. Remember, I would like to take Bobby alive.”
Eric seemed totally dumbfounded. He shook his head as if in disbelief, lips moving silently. Ordering another couple of ales, Don explained that Philip had been sent to Owl Hollow and then to deliver a message to Steamboat. He added that Colin and Eli were later sent to warn Lord Blackie that the secret retreat had been exposed. Eric finally nodded.
“Yes, I knew that Philip was sent on a mission…Samuel told me. I just can’t believe Bobby could do such a thing,” Eric said, just as Deborah entered the room looking all fresh and flushed from an hour’s soak in the bath.
Donald smiled, noting that Deborah had never looked so lovely. The events of the past few months had matured her, and her face had narrowed down from a girly look to that of a young woman. She returned his smile and sat down at the chair that Eric had found from the next table.
†
“Donald,” she gasped, excited to see him, “you’re here at last!”
“Yes, come join us,” said both at once. Don was anxious to hear news of Rachel, she knew. She could see a small vein throbbing on his forehead. Eric excused himself and went to talk with one of the scouts who had just entered the room.
“Well,” said Deborah, regaining her composure and accepting a glass of wine, “did you manage to leave Longmont without any trouble from Lady Lilith?”
“Thankfully, yes,” said Don. “I am sure she is back in Falcon Hall by now…Where she belongs.”
Deborah shuddered, knowing too well Lady Lilith’s reputation as a cruel and amoral woman. “So…Did you give Rachel the letter as promised?” asked Don.
“Of course, I did, Donald,” said Deborah. “I gave it to her as soon as I arrived, even before finding Samuel.”
Donald seemed impressed. She hoped he realized how difficult it was for her to do that.
“Do go on…Please, tell me all about it,” urged Don.
As Deborah began to relay the story, Donald listened in silence. “Well…as soon as we arrived in Stonegate, and without incident, thank goodness, I expressed my gratitude to the men who escorted me here and asked them to tell Samuel that I was going to visit Rachel and would be back later. One did so, but the rest insisted that I must not go anywhere without an escort. Anyway, it was after noon when we arrived, so by the time I got to Rachel’s it was dinner time. I was greeted at the door of her house with the smell of a roasting pig, some succulent herbs, and a warm smile from Rachel. Her brother, Howard, was fletching some arrows, and both of them invited me to stay, insisting I have dinner with them. They even provided food for my escorts. I couldn’t see the younger children, and when I asked Rachel where they were, she said that they were away at their Aunt Florence’s and that she was leaving tomorrow to fetch them…but that she would have a few day’s holiday up there before returning home.”
Don’s face fell. She knew that he realized that it might be days before he could see Rachel again. What will he do now? Make some excuse to drop everything and chase after her?
“Anyway,” continued Deborah, “Rachel looks as though she needs a holiday…she appears very tired and worried. I don’t know how she would manage without her brother, Howard, there. After a lovely dinner, when we were having tea and home-baked oatmeal cakes, I pulled out your letter which was sealed in that nice blue envelope and told Rachel it was a message from you. Well, oh dear! Howard just about turned purple in the face and tried to grab the letter from me, but luckily Rachel managed to intervene and stop Howard from throwing it in the fire. She was so upset with Howard and told him to mind his own business. And he said it was his business because it was your fault that their parents were dead. Well, I would have none of that, even though I was the one to tell Rachel in the first place. I know now, Don, that the Raiders tricked you, and I told him so. After a while, he calmed down…and Rachel said it would be better if she read the letter at Aunt Florence’s in peace.”
“Where does her aunt live?”
“She said she lives in a village at a place called Estes Park, an easy two-day’s ride to the southwest. It is nestled in the mountains and quite safe.”
“Thank you, Deborah,” said Don, looking directly into her eyes. “I am grateful. So Rachel should be home in a week or so, is that correct?”
“Yes, I believe so…Because she is planning to meet Carla and they are planning to go hunting along the way home. Oh, you see, I saw Carla as I was leaving…She dropped in for a cup of tea…And she has asked me to come and stay with her and her family in Loveland for a few days. So I’m heading off tomorrow morning to visit them all. It will be so nice to have some female company again after these last few weeks.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” said Don. “You have been a great help, but this would be a good time for you to get to know her.”
“Well, that’s all my news, Don,” smiled Deborah, still wishing it was her that Don wanted and not Rachel. But loving someone means letting them go, sometimes, she told herself, realizing that all she wanted was for Don to be happy. Perhaps that is what it means to grow up! But I didn’t realize that growing up could be so painful.
Don took her by the hand, looked into her eyes and thanked her again. He seemed to be totally sincere. “One thing, Deborah,” he said. “There is a report that the Prophet has sent out a team of assassins, the Black Caps. They are dangerous masters of disguise and could be posing as friends. Be very careful, and trust no strangers! Then there are the Raiders. You must take a couple of troopers with you.”
Deborah raised her eyebrows at that, and she promised to be especially careful and to spread the warning wherever she went. She promised, especially, to warn Rachel and Carla. At that, they parted.
†
Don went over the co
nversation again in his mind as he retrieved his saddle bags from the stable. He had just ridden by tiny Loveland, a few hour’s ride to the south, but had never stopped there. He began thinking how convenient it would be if he also visited Carla in a few days, just at the same time as Rachel returned. Unless, of course, they were attacked in the meantime. At least, Rachel would be safe at her Aunt Florence’s if an attack did take place.
Falling into bed that night was probably easy for everyone. That did not include Don and Eric, who briefed three troopers that they should retire to their room but be prepared for battle at a moment’s notice. The three were given the responsibility for watching Bobby, who seemed to be anxious for all the men to retire for the night. Eric was sharing a room with Bobby, and Don had told him to pretend that he was asleep while keeping a watchful eye.
Don had been given a small chamber off the common room on the first floor of the inn. Retiring early, he had dropped off almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. He was awakened, seemingly only minutes later, by someone shaking his shoulder. At first, all he could see was a bright lantern in his face and heard a voice trying, urgently, to tell him something. He sat up in confusion and put his feet on cold stones.
“What—What are you saying?” blurted Don. “Who are you? What is it?”
It was Eric, he soon realized that much. “Lord Don,” he said. “Come at once. Samuel has been stabbed! We have sent for Thad and the other healers.”
Don drew on his trousers, shoved his feet into boots, and threw on his padded surcoat. At the door, he buckled on his sword-belt and followed Eric. He led him across the street to the lore-house and up the stairs. They passed two haggard guards standing by an open door; then they rushed into a bedchamber, brightly lit with a dozen candles. Samuel’s naked body lay on a bed in the center of the room, and he was surrounded by three healers, including Thad and Daniel. They were packing bloody dressings into a massive wound half way around his mid-section. Several others leaned over the bed, holding lanterns for additional light, or just stood around, helplessly. Don stood there, mouth gaping, trying to take it in. “What happened?” he snapped.
The False Prophet (Stonegate Book 2) Page 15