“Since this engine is so high off the ground, it means that a smaller trebuchet can outrange a larger siege engine throwing stones from below. But cannons can change all those calculations. The cannons would probably try to destroy these defensive trebuchets first. Then they could move the cannons and siege engines up close, breach the wall, and storm the city in a mass attack.”
“So it is hopeless?” asked Don. “Is that what you are saying?”
“Not exactly. But we must face the fact that if they have large enough cannons and an ample supply of powder and ball, they will be hard to beat. Cannons would have a longer range, on top of everything else. Unless …”
“Unless what?”
“Unless they become afraid to risk their cannons here. Unless they decide not to use up their powder and ball fighting here. I understand that we have some ideas about making them think twice about this—put fear in their hearts. But I can say no more about that.”
“Humph!” snorted Don. “Glad to know you have a plan.”
“Don’t be annoyed,” returned Samuel, looking closely at Don. “Remember that you will be in the field. The less you know about city strategy, the less you can reveal if you are captured.”
“Now that is a pleasant thought!”
“Don’t mention it,” came Samuel’s reply, with just a bit of a smile. They both looked west. The sky was dark, as if another storm was blowing in. But this kind of storm might be their friend, if it stalled the Prophet and his army.
Chapter 21
†
Horse Troop
Hast thou given the horse strength? Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? Job 39:19 KJV
Samuel met with Don and Abel at breakfast in the “Flaming Sword” the following Saturday. The inn was not far from the armor shop of the same name. Hot cakes, butter and honey with goat cheese and tea—that formed the menu. It was a simple meal, though Don did substitute buttermilk for the tea. They talked about the latest rumors: concern was growing and verging to the point of panic in Glenwood, which had only low walls and those not in good repair. Some residents there had already boarded up their houses and moved in with someone in Ariel or Bethuel. The latest decree from the House of Healing was that only able-bodied men may move there, though they could take their wives and children if they agreed to train for the militia. Outlying farmers were bringing their crops to be stored behind the walls, which had not been done in many years. Those bringing in crops were warmly welcomed, of course. There was talk of confiscating all available food and taking it behind town wall, by force, if necessary—though most thought the situation was not yet that dire.
“So,” said Samuel, spearing another pancake with his fork. “People are beginning to take our warnings seriously, at last. I pray it is not too late.”
Don nodded. “That seems to be true. But it all seems to be so half-hearted. Don’t they realize that if the Prophet comes, it won’t be a few Raiders? It will be war.”
“It is hard to understand,” agreed Abel. “Oh, perhaps not on the part of the ordinary people. No one has told them the full, ugly truth. But the leaders all know how bad it is, and still they seem to think they have until Christmas to get ready.”
Abel concluded: “There are many indications of troop movements to the south and east that would fit the idea of a major attack on our towns here. But there are other units that are being held far to the north, and the local commanders also seem to be recruiting.”
Samuel sat silently, deep in thought. Don had missed some detail, but the main idea was clear. Samuel finally voiced it, saying, “The Prophet is clearly going to make an example of us, but he has something else in mind, as well. Whatever could it be? Do you think he plans to attack Steamboat, as well?”
All he received in reply were shrugs, as they all devoted themselves to their food for a few minutes. Samuel changed the subject. “I had a meeting late last night with the council,” he remarked. His voice was casual, and he did not emphasize his words, yet Don immediately looked up from his plate. There was a note there that sounded like an announcement.
“Well, go on,” said Abel, quickly. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”
“Let me lay some groundwork, first,” smiled Samuel. “We presented the same indications that you just heard. Timothy Stonehewer is very concerned. The council has finally agreed that we must mobilize.”
Abel made a fist and hammered it in the air over the table. “Yes!” he exclaimed. They all smiled and exchanged handshakes. Abel continued, “It was late in coming, but maybe not too late. Perhaps our adventure downriver was not in vain.”
“Perhaps not,” continued Samuel. “They agree that the threat is real and that Ariel needs to look to its defenses. They are going to reinforce the levy. And I was even able to convince them that we need at least a horse troop to scout the valley and to counter the Raiders. Their camp is a danger that we can no longer ignore. So what do you think?”
“Yes, I quite agree,” said Abel. “The only possible excuse for not taking action against them before was the fear of reprisals from the Prophet. Since he clearly plans to attack anyway, that fear is erased. We need to ride on the camp and destroy it before it can be reinforced. No need to fear antagonizing the Prophet now.”
“Yes, we must do that,” agreed Samuel, “but it will take weeks to form our horse troop. I hate to wait even that long, but we have little choice, unless we want to march out with the town militia, or levy. And the council has not yet agreed to offensive action; not yet. But we can now take defensive action. A tangible step forward, to be sure, and we have the approval to appoint the commander of the horse troop. I was asked to bring a name back to the meeting tomorrow evening.”
Don sat quietly, but his outward calm was deceptive. Things suddenly seemed to be speeding out of control. It was as if a dam had suddenly broken and a flash flood was coming at them. Were they actually considering fielding a horse troop with only a few weeks’ training? It sounded like an act of desperation more than a plan.
“You have said little, Donald,” commented Samuel. “Do you have any idea who might make a good commander of our horse troop?”
Don could think of no one. “The Diné are masterful scouts, if scouts you want,” he said, after a long pause. “But they are lightly armed and seem to prefer to harry their enemy, rather than meeting them face to face. If you mean a horse troop after the Stonegate model, then I know of no one who’s well suited command it, though there may be some living in Ariel who have the skill.”
“It sounds as though you are suggesting that we recruit someone from Stonegate with military experience—someone who has served in a horse troop. Is that right?” asked Samuel with a smile.
“I suppose so. If Ariel has cavalry leaders, I have never met them. So, yes, it seems that cavalry experience would most likely mean Stonegate experience.”
“So you honestly can think of no one? Well, I can. I know of a man who is now in Ariel, who has shown himself loyal and trustworthy, to say nothing of brave. He has served in a Stonegate horse troop, and has led men in combat. I understand that he was even decorated for valor. Most importantly, he has done well in actual combat with the enemy. Do you know whom I mean?”
“I hardly know anyone here in Ariel—” began Don.
“He means you, Donald!” exclaimed Abel, punching Don on the shoulder. “Sometimes you have a skull as thick as granite cobblestones!”
Don looked at Samuel, questioningly. Samuel smiled and nodded. Don did not know what to say. He was flattered for a brief moment, but then a wave of dread and uncertainty tied his stomach into a sour knot. He remembered the last patrol that he had led and his face flushed.
Don looked down at the table. “I am greatly honored, Lord Samuel,” he began, formally. “But I am sure that I explained that I was an utter failure at leading cavalr
y and was expelled from my old horse troop. I am a lore-man, and it is no good pretending otherwise.”
“Don’t talk nonsense!” snapped Samuel, with a flush matching Don’s. “It is high time you quit mooning around and accepted some responsibility here! If you have any gratitude for our help in saving—”
“Don’t throw that in my face!” interrupted Don. “I have helped you to the best of my ability. But how long does it take to settle the score? What do you expect?”
“Calm down, both of you!” ordered Abel. “There is no need to raise your voices. What are you afraid of, Donald? I don’t think it is the enemy, is it?”
“No!” returned Don, forcefully, glaring first at Samuel, then Abel. “No, I am willing to ride with the horse troop and do my bit. Not to repay anyone for an errand of mercy, but because all good men need to join against evil. But I am not qualified to be the commander.”
“I don’t doubt your courage,” returned Samuel. “But I think I am a better judge of who should be the commander than you. It is time to realize that anyone can make mistakes in war. But we have to accept our losses and continue to fight. You seem to have given up!”
Don sat in silence for a long moment, his gaze fixed on Samuel. “To the contrary, I think I am the world expert on my own capabilities!” he said, quietly. “I consider you both my friends, but if you continue to bully me on this point, I will be forced to leave and find some other place to serve—Steamboat, perhaps.”
Abel shook his head. “It looks like you have finally met someone as stubborn as you, Samuel.” He looked at Don. “I see you have steel inside. Somehow, I always thought you were a bit too easy to influence. Maybe I read you wrong. Though I think you read yourself wrong as well. Nevertheless …”
Abel turned to Samuel. “Let’s accept that Don has declined the post of commander and go on from there. Is that agreeable to all?” Samuel reluctantly nodded, and after a pause, so did Don. The tension slowly began to drift away.
“So where does that leave us?” asked Abel. “I know you are willing to help in some capacity, Donald. But where do we go from here?”
“We still have the Diné,” responded Don. “They are the finest scouts that I have ever seen, not that I have seen them lately.”
Samuel nodded. “I thought we had gone over that ground. The Diné are excellent scouts, to be sure. You haven’t seen them because they have been watching the southwest approaches from Junction to the upper valley. But you yourself said that they are lightly armed and could not directly engage the Raiders.”
“I am beginning to wonder if it is possible to organize a horse troop on such short notice,” said Abel. “Even with Don as commander, I had my misgivings, but now …”
“I am glad you weren’t on the council,” responded Samuel, shortly. “They authorized the troop without a second’s thought to training problems. But they were very concerned about the cost to arm and equip the troopers and to buy and feed the horses. I had to promise them that at least half of the recruits would furnish their own horses before they would release the purse strings. They understood well enough that leasing the horses would be cheaper than buying them so long as the campaign was short.”
The morning wore on, and the meeting seemed near to bogging down. Every problem seemed to generate two or three more, like a thunderstorm spawning dust devils. Finally, it was agreed that Don would organize the training, and they would try to recruit a man known as “Old Robert” to be the troop commander.
This idea was presented to the Ariel council, which approved it readily enough. A dozen young men from the town militia were assigned to help Samuel organize the effort. One spark of initiative from the council was the idea to use an old fort just northwest of the town as the troop headquarters. A small army of workmen was mobilized and sent to the flat mesa where the fort stood and set up a tent city. The mesa was surrounded by rim-rock forming low cliffs, leaving only a few routes of access. All these had been fortified at some time in the past. Masons were set to work restoring the crumbling walls and hanging new gates of rough-hewn wood. Two old stone houses and a stable were to be re-roofed with clay tiles, and they began to construct sheds to store hay for the horses and a wooden barracks.
Don met Old Robert for the first time as they began turning the old houses into a headquarters. Robert was still over six feet tall, even with a pronounced stoop to his shoulders. He looked to be at least sixty years old, but carried no fat on his lanky frame. His hair was mostly white, with a few salt-and-pepper streaks of darker hue. He was bald on top. His face was weathered nearly mahogany, but his eyes were the dark blue of mountain pools. The two sat and had coffee with Abel and Samuel while they sized each other up.
It turned out that Robert had also spent a few years in a horse troop in Stonegate, but that was thirty years in the past. In addition, he had led cavalry in the last war against the Old Prophet, a generation ago. He now made his living as a horse dealer and spent perhaps half his time in the saddle taking horses from the Glenwood valley to places as far away as Junction, High-tower, and even Stonegate. He was well known as a horse breeder and trainer.
Samuel had told Don a little about him. He was also a practical, shrewd businessman, with a dry sense of humor. Results oriented, he disliked all empty show and pretense. Don liked him immediately. He was greatly relieved that Robert had accepted command.
Don was impressed that Robert’s first request was grain for the horses. “Can’t fight a war on grass or hay alone,” Robert had said. “These mounts are going to be pushed to the limit. They gotta have grain! So get that council to spring for some, Samuel!” Don instantly saw that this was a point well taken, even though the rest of them had missed it.
Don discovered that Robert understood the need for paperwork. They spent most of the first day drawing up a list of supplies and weapons that would be needed. Don was put in charge of the training areas, and ten of the young men became his helpers. Robert took on the task of overseeing the construction of new corrals and hay sheds. But the fort only had a small spring and an old cistern that collected water from the roofs of the houses.
Don had asked Robert how the fort could possibly hold out against a siege with the problem of water. Robert had eyed him strangely for a moment.
“Don’t worry about that,” he answered. “This little fort would be completely indefensible in case of a serious attack. These walls are to protect our headquarters from those bandits across the river. We can defend against a few Raiders. An army, no!”
Their discussion then turned to more practical matters. Ariel wanted a horse troop, and a horse troop it would have. But they needed men, horses and weapons, and the training to put them to use. It was a big job and time was short. Much too short!
To recruit the troopers, Don and Robert agreed that messengers would be sent to every hamlet and farm for twenty miles in every direction. It was Robert’s idea to mount these envoys on the best, most showy horses that they had available. They looked at one of these, a beautiful sorrel stallion with flaxen mane and tail. “He would be worthless as a warhorse,” commented Robert. “But he is a handsome thing, and that is what we need right now. And we have ten sets of gear that will look good when the steel is shined and leather saddle-soaped. Fit our ten recruits with that, Donald. Then we will send them out with posters and flyers.”
The young helpers, over the rest of the week, pasted up posters at every intersection and passed out flyers. Meetings were called in Bethuel and Ariel, to answer questions. All young men were invited to Ariel on the next market day. They would have a chance to join the cavalry, find adventure, tweak the tail of the Prophet, and earn a generous bonus, besides. Those who furnished their own horse would earn even more since the town offered to lease each mount. Abel commissioned a woodcut of a handsome trooper on a rearing horse, and with the motto: “Be a Trooper.” The image was soon seen e
verywhere.
Glenwood was a problem since Balek Brown’s minions were often seen there, frequenting the unsavory lower town taverns. The news of the new horse troop could not be kept secret, of course. But Robert refused to put posters right under the enemy’s noses, particularly since Balek’s Raiders would probably be their first target.
Robert used the requisitions that the town had given to buy fifty horses, which were driven in a few days later. Some of these new mounts were from Robert’s farm, but only a few. He did not want it said that he was making a profit from his position.
Market day in Ariel brought a steady stream of applicants. None were accepted who were younger than seventeen, but there was no upper age limit. They interviewed each applicant and inspected their horses if they had any. Youth and horsemanship skills were good things, but older applicants were accepted if they had experience and toughness enough to overcome the advantages of young bodies. Those that passed the first screening were examined by healers to make sure that they were healthy enough to campaign. It went very well, better than Don had expected. But he noticed that Robert seemed even more interested in the quality of the horses than of the recruits.
A week later, the tent city on the mesa top was full with over one hundred new recruits. The barracks were still not complete. The council had agreed on a bonus of fifty silver mills to be paid if they finished the four-week training course. They were enthusiastic, but the first morning of calisthenics before dawn followed by a two-mile run seemed to dampen their spirits substantially.
The Stonegate Sword Page 39