The Stonegate Sword

by Harry James Fox

  He wished that he could select the mount leaders. Each troop had four mounts of about ten troopers each, and in addition had a fifth mount under the command of the assistant troop leader. This additional mount had the standard bearer, horse holders (in charge of the remounts), messengers, and scouts. He decided that he would not select the mount leaders without talking to the troop leaders, first. Better yet, he would let them choose their own leaders. But until he heard from Robert whether or not his selections were approved, he could not go any further. The mount leader selection would have to wait.

  Early on Tuesday morning he rode into town to meet with Abel and Samuel. Snap’s hooves echoed hollowly along the stone streets as pale shadows pointed to the dawn. He entered the street of the armor makers, halted in the alley next to Matthew’s shop. He was directed to the Ariel Fire-Pit.

  While sipping hot tea, Samuel complained about being bothered with details. “Donald,” he began, “You need to get organized. I can’t hold your hand forever. Now take this note that you sent over …” He held up a familiar parchment. “Yes, I can find you a secretary. But why did you not ask the Ariel lore-master? You should be better able to deal with him than I. And do you really expect me to find a seamstress?”

  Abel, who was pouring tea, sighed. “Just a minute, old friend,” he interrupted. “I doubt that Donald has set foot in town for three weeks. How is he supposed to make these contacts? And of course he needs someone to help with paperwork. He probably also needs a dog-robber, someone to take on these problems who knows everyone in town. We should have thought of that! So, instead of criticizing—why not encourage him for making a start at organization?”

  Samuel clearly did not like interruption. But he stopped and listened, pulling at an earlobe. He laid the message down and took a thoughtful drink of tea. The irritated look slowly faded, and he leaned back in his chair.

  “You don’t need to remind me,” said Don. “I know that I am not an organizer. I rather like developing plans. But it is the plague of details that bother me. Robert likes details, but he had to go back to his horse farm—to put it in order, no doubt. He is also looking for an alternate headquarters in case we have to evacuate. So it all falls to me. As you say, I have thought about nothing but training for weeks. Now I need some help. But if my message was not correct—what should I have done?”

  “Perhaps before we get into that,” murmured Abel, “you might be interested to know that the leaders of Ariel, Bethuel, and even the House of Healing have agreed on a joint military commander. I don’t know if you have been told about the last time of troubles. We were besieged by an army of the Prophet before … nearly twenty years ago.”

  “Well … yes,” answered Don. “I mean, yes, I am interested about the commander. And, yes, I have heard about the troubles. You told me a bit about the battles, yourself.”

  “Don’t you want to know who the commander is?” asked Abel. “We call him the ‘marshall.’ We had one before but not for many years.”

  “Of course,” returned Don. “I hope he has some experience. I suppose that our cavalry force would fall under his command …” Don trailed off as he considered the implications. What if the marshall were to be one of the well-fed merchants of Bethuel? His heart sank.

  “Don’t look like that,” hurriedly put in Abel. “Of course he has experience—a wealth of it. But I see that the rest of our group is here.” He stood and greeted Malcolm and Philip as they walked in. With them came Danny Yazzi, the leader of the Diné scouts; and John, a weapon master of Ariel, Enos, and a stranger. A pair of stocky women with white handkerchiefs over their hair and white aprons brought up trays and began to set places at the central table for six.

  Philip hung a set of saddlebags over the back of a side chair. Don smiled at him as they greeted each other. The youngster seemed to have filled out more every time he saw him. The lad bore little resemblance to the starved wretch they had found on the road to Junction.

  “We will excuse you, Philip,” said Malcolm. “I am sure that these kind women can find you something to eat in the kitchen.”

  “Of course we can,” said the larger of the two. “Matthew the sword-smith is having his breakfast and would be glad of some company. Come along.”

  Introductions were made all around. Danny had his hair tied into a knot at the back of his head. He wore a long-sleeved beige shirt instead of a tunic, with leather trousers. He also wore a heavy leather vest that clearly wore the marks of a breastplate. He was not tall, but his broad shoulders and narrow hips seemed to Don to be the perfect body type for a horseman. He knew that Danny rode as if he were a centaur—an organic part of his horse.

  “I am glad to see the man of lore again,” said Danny. Don smiled, bowed, and murmured his greetings.

  The stranger proved to be the commander of Bethuel’s town levy, Del Pembroke. He stood a bit over six feet tall, with a brick-red face, set off by dark brown beard and hair. Built like a tree trunk, his shoulders, hip and waist were uniformly thick and solid. He said little and smiled not at all. Don noticed that his hands were nearly as large as the dinner plates on the table.

  When Don was introduced, Samuel gave his title as “assistant commander.” He was surprised to learn that this was no longer considered as an Ariel office, but a joint Haven command . This did not sit well with Pembroke; that was obvious. The group took their places at the table.

  “I have a mile of curtain wall to defend,” he said. “I need to raise a levy large enough to hold it, and how I am going to do that, I have no idea. Still less do I see what good your horses are to me, Horse-Master!” He glared around the table. “To be sure, Bethuel wants to cooperate. We don’t want to make the same mistakes we made in my father’s day. But I don’t need my best young men running off on a useless adventure.”

  “These young men may be more useful than you think, Lord Pembroke,” returned Abel. “They will be used to settle some unfinished business. And even when and if the towns are under siege, the cavalry can raid their supply lines. The more the enemy is tied up guarding wagon trains, the fewer to surround our walls.”

  “Yes, but the truth is it might all be for naught if a ladder goes up and I lack ten men just then to throw it back,” returned Pembroke, sharply. “But keep your toy horses. Just remember that I know how the game is played.”

  “Could you tell me please how the game is played?” asked Danny Yazzi. “I am not sure what game you mean.”

  Pembroke hardly bothered to hide his irritation. “Do we have time for this? I mean the game of war!” He followed Samuel’s lead and took a drink of cold water from a tall, earthenware goblet. “Here is how it’s played. The Prophet, curse his guts, is moving 10,000 thugs up the river. We haven’t got the sense to combine forces, so I will have my own thousand-man levy if I can raise them and whip them into some sort of shape. And, oh yes, I will have another thousand or so that will be of some help—old men and boys. My rule of thumb is this: I will either hold them off or cost them an attacker for every defender if we fall.”

  “Let me say that if I only had Ariel’s militia and Glenwood’s men, then I think we could hold our walls against ten or even fifteen thousand. As it is … well I give us maybe an even chance. That is the game. But we will play to the end.” Pembroke broke off as the women came in with steaming bowls of oat porridge and platters with potatoes, eggs and ham. The table fell silent for a few minutes as the food was passed and blessed. Danny nodded, but said nothing. This was the first time that Don had heard the suggestion about joining forces, and it did make sense. Pembroke had not mentioned the House of Healing. Apparently he realized that the Surgeon would never agree to combine forces. Don glanced at Malcolm and noticed that several others did the same.

  Malcolm took the cue. “Our reports from the West still indicate that a gathered force of ten thousand infantry is not far off the mark. I thin
k there will eventually be even more, frankly. Of course, the House of Healing is officially neutral, so we could not join forces, no matter how logical it might be. The Chief Surgeon would probably throw a fit if he realized that reports from our Pilgrims are being passed to you, hot off the heliograph. He has told me often enough that I can do nothing provocative.”

  “I notice that you healers accepted the arms that we gave you,” said John. “Perhaps that is not provocative, or perhaps the Surgeon’s neutrality is a bit one-sided.”

  “Come now,” put in Malcolm, his blue eyes as hard and cold as ice. “Only the Prophet gains if we quarrel.” He looked at Pembroke. “Friend Del, I won battle scars fighting in Bethuel’s levy. I understand your concern, believe me. But there is simply no use in plowing this ground again. The leaders of Ariel could never agree to leave their town undefended, even though it does make good military sense. Glenwood is not organized well enough to make its men do anything.” He looked at John, then Abel. “And we need to realize that the House of Healing has given far more than ever before. Ten times the amount of those arms that you mentioned would not be enough to repay a timely warning. Without Abel, and his regular reports from the heart of the Prophet’s dominion, we would be blind and deaf. We would have had little warning, maybe only days to arm instead of weeks.”

  Samuel nodded. “Well said. Actually, Abel gave us months of warning, but we frittered and dithered most of that time away. He and Donald had to go down river so that someone from this area could testify that they have seen these things with their own eyes. A call to arms is an expensive thing and might cost the politicians their jobs. It was hard to persuade them of the danger. I thought for a time that it would take the flags of the Prophet’s army to convince them. If this aggression had not happened before, some years back, I doubt that they would have even yet agreed to arm. So I am thankful for my friend Abel, and the risk he is taking in giving us this information.”

  “I have to break in again with an announcement.” said Abel. “I doubt that you have heard that Samuel has been selected as marshall and is charged with the defense of Haven from the Prophet. Let me say that they could not have chosen better! Congratulations.” Abel stood and clapped his hands, and all the others followed suit. Samuel remained seated and awkwardly waved them back to their seats.

  Don now understood what Samuel had been too polite to say. He had been bothering the military commander with trivial details. He should have handled them himself, he could see that now. His face felt hot, and he looked down at his plate as he finished the last of the ham and eggs. He had known that Samuel was respected in Ariel, and often met with the town council, but marshall. No wonder Samuel had objected! Don felt like quietly slinking out of the room, but he was ashamed to do anything to call attention to himself.

  Malcolm rose and went to a cloth bundle in the corner of the room. Unrolling it, he produced a beautiful helm, chased with gold inlays and crowned with a tuft of red horsehair. “Here is the marshall’s helm. I retrieved it from the strong rooms. It has not been worn for fifteen years.” Malcolm handed it to Pembroke, who examined it and passed it to his right. “You will probably have to have the lining renewed, Lord Samuel. The leather looks worn and brittle.”

  “A word of warning, Lord Marshall,” said Pembroke. “This helm is well to wear for all ceremonies and the like. But don’t make a target out of yourself!”

  “A word to the wise, indeed,” said Samuel. “Have no fear. My old helm will do very well for the field. Still, this is a pretty thing. Very thoughtful, Malcolm. Thank you.” He looked around the table. “I intend to take this office seriously and will make this Saturday my formal assumption of command. I know I will receive your full cooperation.”

  Samuel turned to Don. “With your permission, Donald, I will move my headquarters to what your men call Fort Baldy. I will soon be selecting my chief of staff. He will relieve you of most of the peacetime concerns. I want you to give full attention to the cavalry campaign ahead. With that in mind, what do you recommend we do with your troopers, besides routine patrols?”

  “Well, since I am only the assistant commander, I can’t fully speak as Lord Robert would,” began Don. “But our fort is at your disposal, of course! As you know, he had to return to his horse farm to attend to some details. We are at your orders, certainly. And thank you for lifting a load from my shoulders.”

  “It is a load that can be handled very well by others. But surely you have ideas for using the cavalry. Share them with us.”

  Don took his time before answering. He had talked numerous times with Robert about the problem of the Raiders. He knew of no easy solution. Danny was the master at using light cavalry patrols, not he. A cavalry force of a thousand would not be nearly enough to stop the Prophet’s army from moving up the valley. Don and Robert would have less than two hundred. He decided to simply ignore protocol and try to answer the question.

  “I do have some ideas, Lord Marshall, as you say,” answered Don, finally. “Lord Danny has been in charge of patrolling deep to the north, west and south. Their patrols are rarely seen. Our patrols are going to be deliberately obvious on the main roads. We want to be seen. In fact, it would be to our advantage to be attacked. Right now, we cannot take offensive action, even against the fort of the Raiders that is right on our doorstep. If we were attacked, we could reply in kind.”

  All the heads at the table nodded. Everyone seemed to be well aware of these things. Don continued: “We have to do something about the Raider fort and simply driving the Raiders out and forcing them to retreat downriver does nothing. One of the troop leaders said that we have to make them fear us. Better yet would be to destroy them. When the Prophet’s army appears, we can nip at his heels. But there is one action that we need to take which may be poking the hornet’s nest. Now that we have the troops, it can be done, and should be done soon.”

  “I take it that this is your idea?” asked Malcolm.

  “I am afraid so. But it seems to me that there is no sense in leaving anything in the valley that the Prophet’s army can use. When they march through, they will steal whatever they find. Everything we can collect will not only help us but will force him to bring that much more upriver to feed his troops.”

  “So you recommend that we scour the valley?” asked Malcolm. “But that will not go down well. Some of the farmers support the Prophet, and they will resist. Do we steal from them, or what? And if we go in and steal from peaceful farmers, how are we different from the Prophet?”

  “Haven’t you heard of military necessity?” asked Pembroke. “We are faced with a war, and we are afraid of doing the most elemental things that any idiot knows are necessary! Wake up! We have to wake up! For whatever it’s worth, Horse-Master, I agree with you. I even begin to see how your horses might be useful, much as it pains me to admit it.”

  Abel spoke, ignoring Pembroke’s complaints: “I think I am beginning to follow, also. We have danced around this, I must admit, and have always put it off. Do go ahead, Donald.”

  “Well, it is not complicated. We simply send wagons and soldiers down the river as far as possible, and then sweep back up. We will drive all cattle, sheep, horses and anything else that can be driven. Pigs, chickens, wheat, potatoes and the like can be put in wagons. We will give receipts to the owners and compensate them—not at all like the Prophet. But the people will have no choice but to sell. It will mean trouble. For one thing, to keep from starving, the people will either have to go downriver to the Prophet’s lands or come upriver to Bethuel or Ariel. We will need foot soldiers to collect the food and anything else that the Prophet might use, and we need drovers and teamsters to haul the goods upriver. The horse troops will protect against the Raiders.”

  Samuel looked surprised. “You have given some thought to this, Donald. You are correct, of course. It is necessary, and it will cause a stir. In fact, it will probably
give the Prophet a convenient excuse to invade. He could say that he is simply protecting innocent people from depredations. But what if it causes a war?”

  “We have to be ready for that,” returned Don. “If we are sure that war is inevitable, it really does not matter whether the Prophet has a good excuse or not. We will at least pay compensation. But perhaps we should send messages that explain to the Easterners what is going on. They need to be warned since the Prophet may well march on east if he defeats us. We might be only a training exercise to ready his troops for an invasion of Stonegate, Hightower and the other cities.”

  “That may be a good guess, Donald,” said Abel. “We have reports of another army massing to the north. What else would they attack if not Stonegate? Steamboat is hardly worth the trouble, since they already pay taxes. I agree with the message idea, also.”

  “What is the point?” asked Pembroke. “They won’t send help. They never did before if you remember. We were on our own. And the Easterners were among the ones who drove our grandfathers and grandmothers up to these mountains in the first place. These mountains meant protection from the Easterners just as much as from Westerners. I see no need to worry about them. Let the Prophet and the Easterners destroy each other. That’s what I say!”

  The table erupted at that point. It seems that everyone except Don and Danny had an opinion about the relative blame of East and West. Pembroke complained that Bethuel might have to take refugees from downriver. Abel tried to get control of the meeting after a few minutes, but finally Samuel had to stand and say, “Enough!” The room subsided. “I think we all realize that we have to sweep the river. With the cavalry, we can now protect the supply trains from the Raiders. And the beauty of your plan, Donald, is that it forces the Raiders to do something—allowing us to retaliate, or do nothing and become irrelevant. If they do nothing, only tamely withdraw or hide in their fort, the Prophet will not be happy. They will have a dilemma. I like that. Any other discussion?”