The Last Pilgrims

by Michael Bunker

  “Our army would be nothing against such a force in the open field, English,” Loya said, “but here in this castle—in the midst of a walled city—2,000 men ought to be plenty. Defending a walled city is far easier than trying to assault a superior army in the open field.”

  “That is true sir, if your 2,000 men are defending against an attacking army of 6,000. But let me say that it is very unlikely that the attacking army will be only 6,000 men. You see, sir, most of the castle defenders escaped; and you can bet that many of them are, at this moment, galloping on horseback towards New Rome. It is very likely, General, in fact, I would say it is absolutely certain, that the King of Aztlan is not going to sit idly on his hands while his entire southern army is left homeless and while his largest southern city—which also happens to be his only defense against Mexico and any other armies attacking from the south—is taken from him without a fight. Surrendering El Paso would leave the whole of Aztlan, including New Rome herself, open to attack from the south! That isn’t going to happen, General. No, sir. I can assure you that you will not be facing an attacking force of 6,000 returning veterans who consider El Paso their home. No. You will probably be facing another army—one coming directly south from New Rome—and that army will be upwards of 20,000 strong if I were to hazard a guess.

  “If, however, we were to go on the offensive,” English said, lifting his hand into a fist, “if we were to rush eastward right now and strike the Aztlani force from the rear while they are engaged with the militia,” English raised his fist and eyes towards the ceiling, “if we would strike a stunning and unexpected blow on Aztlan while they believe that they are strong and virtually unopposed, then… then, I believe that we can destroy that army before New Rome can respond to what has happened here.”

  The General looked down, leaning over the desk for a while before standing back up and breathing deeply. “So it is your considered opinion that New Rome will gamble everything to attack us here?”

  “I don’t perceive it as much of a risk for them, General. The King of Aztlan is safe and cozy up in his mountains. Twenty-thousand men is only a small portion of his available forces. He risks little to gain back his southern borders by destroying you here.”

  “It seems, Sir English, with all due respect, that you have been purposely kept out of the loop for some time. There is a hole in your logic—not in your intellect, which, I grant, is remarkable—but a hole in your logic caused by the lack of some very important facts.”

  English looked at the General quizzically and raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps, sir, you can enlighten me? I would definitely benefit by having any logic holes closed as soon as possible.”

  “I take it that you are wholly ignorant of what is happening in the north?” Loya asked.

  “In New Rome, sir? I am probably ill-informed, but I wouldn’t call it ‘wholly ignorant’. I spent a lot of years in New Rome, and with the King of Aztlan.”

  “No, Sir Knight. Not in New Rome—farther north, in the former northern United States!”

  “I’d have to admit sir, we have had little or no information from the north in the last 20 years. We’ve had rumors from travelers and captured looters, fairy tales and myths spread by storytellers and minstrels. At one point we were informed that most of the industrial centers were destroyed by nuclear missiles and bombs, and that the large cities had been completely wiped out. Our Aztlani theorists and intelligence groups produced a white paper, maybe ten years ago, that concluded that the population of the northern states had been reduced by more than 95% from its pre-crash levels due to extreme weather, riots, race war, criminal gangs, and of course the nuclear destruction in the cities.”

  “That was ten years ago, Sir English. We received those reports as well, but a lot has changed in ten years. Let us just say that the monster to the north of Aztlan may be worse than the monster in New Rome. I think you have a lot of catching up to do.” General Loya sighed again before walking back around the desk and up to English.

  “Sir English, you have given me much to think about. It is hard to say what the King of Aztlan may do. My men will fill you in on all of the intelligence we have on Aztlan and on the situation farther north. After you have had some time to consider it, I will receive your report and your recommendations as to how we ought to proceed from here.”

  English shook Loya’s outstretched hand and held on to it for a moment. “Worse than Aztlan?”

  “Perhaps, English. But how can we know?”

  How, indeed, he thought. He released the General’s hand and nodded. “Let me just say, General, before I retreat to my office to study and pray…” He backed toward the door as he considered his words. “The Vallenses must be saved, sir. Without them, all of this is just senseless violence, with power, greed, and covetousness as the operative forces in the world. If we… those of us who put on uniforms and fight one another… if we are not fighting so that free people can live in peace and raise their families and do good, then… maybe it would have been better if God had wiped us all off of the earth.”

  “I see what you are saying, English, and in principle I agree. Maybe God will wipe us all off the earth anyway. He’s made a good start of it. And, I can’t say that I blame Him.”

  “Then save the Vallenses, General. Because as far as I can see, that may be the only reason God still has us here.”

  General Loya of Mexico walked over to the window and looked down into the courtyard. “Who knows, English. Maybe you’re right.”

  Chapter 25 - Timothy

  When the dust cleared, the Aztlani spies named Atticus and Leo lay dead in the street. Jonathan Wall was on top of the third spy, the boy named Troy; The Hood, Rob Fosse, and Marbus Claim still had their bows drawn and aimed at the fallen spies; and the blind old man named Oswald stood nodding his head with a smile touching his weathered face.

  Ruth, seeing her father prone on the ground, launched herself past Timothy and sprinted to where he lay in the street. Timothy rushed after her, intent on doing his duty to keep her safe no matter the cost. He caught up with her and grabbed her by her shoulders, not sure that the exchange was completely over.

  “Daddy!” she screamed, wrenching herself from Timothy’s protective grasp.

  “I’m ok, dear,” Jonathan said, steadily climbing to his feet. “You stay back a bit until we get this sorted out.”

  “Where’s Piggy?” Hood questioned, looking back towards the service station. “I expected he’d be the first one here to make sure they were all dead.” He looked askance at the young man named Troy, then continued, “Clearly they are not... all dead, that is.”

  Timothy looked around and began walking over to the station. “I’ll go check on him.”

  As he approached the low wall, and the opening between it and the service station, Piggy suddenly appeared before him, dusting off his pants and coat with his leather gloves.

  A bit startled, “I… uh… hey, Piggy,” was all he could think of to say.

  “Oh,” Piggy said, looking up and noticing Timothy, “Hello Tim. What’s up?”

  “Well, everyone was wondering where you were, so I said I’d come check on you.”

  “Well… isn’t that nice of them.”

  “Where’s Rollo?”

  Piggy grimaced, half smile and half scowl, before putting his arm around Timothy and guiding him around the low wall. Once they were clear and could see behind the wall, he indicated with his glove towards a bound and gagged Rollo, who seemed to be unconscious. “Rollo is tied up for the moment.”

  He looked at Piggy in confusion, but was unable to frame a cogent question in his mind.

  “This is going to be quite… delicate, and maybe perplexing for a moment, Timothy. Perhaps we ought to join the others and we’ll try to clear this all up.”

  As they walked back towards the group in the middle of the dusty street, Timothy noticed that Rob Fosse and The Hood had bound the hands of the third Aztlani spy behind his back. Jonathan seemed to be atte
mpting to intercede on the young spy’s behalf, and Ruth still had a stunned and bewildered look on her face.

  Rejoining the group, he could hear Jonathan pleading a case for mercy and leniency for the spy he called Troy. Rob Fosse and The Hood nodded their heads and remained silent out of respect while Jonathan asked for the militia to spare the boy’s life, but did not look to be moved by it, nor did they loose the boy’s bonds.

  During a pause in the proceedings, a loud groan, followed by a very muffled scream could be heard emanating from behind the low wall. Everyone stopped and listened for a moment, and The Hood, Marbus Claim, and Ruth all quickly and quietly readied their bows. Piggy held up his hands to calm them, and was about to say something when The Hood spoke out… “What is that? Where is Rollo?” As he asked the question, Hood’s eyes met Piggy’s and you could see a look of exasperation pass over the militia tracker’s face.

  “Piggy! Piggy, what did you do?”

  “I eliminated… or at least I incapacitated a threat.”

  Hood bowed his head, shaking it slowly. “Rollo?”

  “That very Mountain.”

  A long, low growl, much like that of a bobcat caught in a trap, could be heard from behind the wall. Rob Fosse looked at Piggy. “Did you kill Rollo?” he asked.

  “Not yet.”

  They all stood in awkward silence for a moment, waiting for Piggy to explain. He didn’t.

  “At some point are you going to tell us what you did to Rollo and why?” Rob asked.

  “I would love to do that very thing, but people keep asking me pointless questions.”

  “So?”

  “Like that one,” Piggy said. He looked around, and saw that the confusion and irritation he was causing was not as amusing to everyone else as it was to him, so he relented. “Ok, we’ll go inside and get our guests some water. Then I’ll tell you why I have arrested Rollo The Mountain.”

  Marbus Claim was posted as a guard over the prisoners. Troy was bound and seated, and a now fully awake and obviously perturbed Rollo was hogtied on the ground. Timothy wasn’t sure he could take much more of the suspense. He was curious to talk to Jonathan about his ordeal. He was also interested in the plight of Troy the young Aztlani spy. But he was most curious about why Piggy had arrested, bound, and gagged one of the most famous militia warriors then living. Rollo was a legend, and he had fought on the side of Phillip and the Ghost militia for many, many years. No one had anything but respect for Piggy and for his often preternatural physical and mental abilities and talents, so they could not even imagine that he had breached protocol and arrested Rollo without ample cause.

  As they sat around in a circle, drinking cool water dipped from Oswald’s water catchment box, the tension seemed to be a weight pressing down on them that only time and answers could lessen. Piggy took a long drink from his cup, wiped his mustache and beard with the back of his hand, and began to explain.

  “Rollo is a traitor and a criminal, and I suspect that he is guilty of murdering the leadership of the militia back at His Honor Mr. Wall’s ranch.”

  The shocking statement was short and to the point and hit everyone in the room like a cold, bracing wind from out of the north. Timothy just shook his head because there were too many loose ends, too much unknown, for him to grasp what was going on. He felt like his whole foundation was perilously close to collapsing.

  After a long, painful period of muted gasping and muttering around the room, Jonathan Wall was the first to speak. “I don’t know you all that well, Piggy, but I do expect that you have some reason… or some information… or some evidence that supports this suspicion?”

  “Piggy!” Timothy sputtered, finally finding words and interrupting. “Are you saying that Phillip is dead? How can you know that?”

  Piggy paused for a moment, then stood up, pulling one of his throwing knives from a sheath attached to the inside of his vest. He tapped the knife against his hand for awhile, then began to spin it casually as he spoke.

  “I do believe that I have sufficient suspicion to have acted, Your Honor. And Timothy… I do not know that Phillip is dead. I suspect that he is dead, or at least very seriously injured. I suspect that Rollo has attempted to kill Phillip and Prince Gareth, and anyone else that might have gotten in his way.”

  Jonathan sighed. “So… you are saying that David might be dead as well?”

  “He very well might be sir, but again, I don’t know that. I just have a very solid suspicion that Rollo has been working for Aztlan for some time and that he has taken this opportunity to betray Phillip and the militia. I believe he is here now to kill you, Your Honor, and would have killed you just now if I had not intervened.”

  Rob Fosse stood up. “Piggy, these are very serious charges, and they are against a brother. Everyone here, along with all of the Vallenses and the militia, have the highest regard for your mind and your abilities. Personally, as Phillip’s best friend and an officer in the militia, I have the utmost faith in your judgment and your intellect. I’m willing to go along with you here for a while, but… I’m hoping you are going to tell us why you suspect Rollo of treason.”

  “Thank you for your support, Rob,” Piggy continued, the knife spinning lazily on his hand as he spoke, “it means a lot to me, and I do hope that I have not disappointed any of you.” He walked over towards the doorway and leaned against it as if he were very, very tired. “I have suspected Rollo of being a traitor for a long time. In fact, I have been expecting him to make an attempt on Phillip’s life for a long while. For letting down my guard, I hold myself responsible for any harm that has come to anyone. I am a soldier and must go where I am sent, so I could not offer any added protection for Phillip when absent. Frankly, I was surprised that Rollo didn’t attempt to kill Phillip during the battle of Bethany, when I was at the Wall Ranch. When he didn’t, I began to question myself and my discernment. I thought that perhaps I was wrong about the guy. For the first time in my life I began to have second thoughts about my own intuition. You see, Rollo has always been a mercenary. I’ve always believed that his allegiance to Phillip and the militia was feigned and that his loyalty was for sale. He always resented Phillip, and I could read that on his face as easily as any of you can read a book. I’ve studied the man. I’ve watched him. He always was trouble, and I never once trusted him. I’ve trained with him, and I’ve intently examined his movements while in battle. He exhibits every trait of the treasonous agent, and I could never show you that in a way that would convict him in any court. So I just had my private suspicions, and I waited and watched.

  “When the farmer Ronald Getz attacked Gareth, my suspicions grew. Rollo was a friend of Getz, and I saw them meeting together on several occasions. Those impressions didn’t mean anything to me until after Getz was exposed as a spy.

  “As I said, I began to doubt myself after the Battle of Bethany, when Rollo didn’t make a move on Phillip and Gareth, but that self-doubt began to drop away when I saw that Rollo was never surprised by the fact that the Battle of Bethany was just a diversion for the larger attack to the East. I watched his face when we learned that the Vallenses had been slaughtered out by Comanche… a faint smile was on his lips, and I’m probably the only one who was watching him intently and saw it. Again, what could I charge him with? Smiling? Who would listen to me? Phillip would have taken it under advisement and sent me with the posse anyway. Frankly, I was just praying I was wrong.

  “Then, he showed up at Harmony, traveling by himself and obviously under stress. When he said that he had a message for Jonathan, that was when I became quite certain that the deed was done.” Piggy stood up and began to pace, putting the throwing knife back into its sheath. “There is no way Phillip would operate like that. All of you took his word for it, and I appreciate that, but I did not. Rob, you are the second in command of this militia. Do you now believe that Phillip would send a message to Jonathan, bypassing you? Do you think that, considering all that has happened, and that we were operating away from ho
me in hostile territory, searching for the leader of the Vallenses, that Phillip would not give this message to you to deliver?”

  Rob Fosse looked down, thinking on the questions intently. “I suppose you are right. It was odd. I didn’t have the suspicions of The Mountain that you have. I suppose I should have asked. Thinking on it now, it definitely violated protocol and was very un-Phillip like.”

  “Exactly. Then, after the first night of travel, I went through Rollo’s bag and found this.” He pulled a pistol out of his coat and laid it on the table. “It has been fired twice, recently.”

  “What is Rollo doing with a pistol?” Timothy asked.

  “That is the point, Tim,” Piggy replied. “What is he doing with a pistol? Whom did he shoot? Why all the secrecy? If we were to have guns on this mission, we could all have been issued weapons from the armory at Harmony. None of this tracks! It only adds up if you consider my hypothesis… what I already suspected but could not prove, that Rollo is an agent of Aztlan and that he is actively beheading the opposition.” Piggy looked around the room. They knew he had more to say, so everyone remained silent.

  “That leads us to this afternoon. I was watching him. I had already taken the gun, and he never knew it was missing. I was waiting for him to make his move on Jonathan when he appeared. His behavior even further proved my suspicions. He moved down that wall away from the conflict, supposedly to increase the triangulation, but I could tell that he was angling for a shot at Mr. Wall. His angle put him in a cross-fire position and it put you, Rob, at risk. He could have taken you both out with one or two arrows properly placed. This is completely against our training. And, he couldn’t stop watching me. He knew that I knew something. He was afraid. He was taking a lot of time lining up his shot, so I threw a knife at the spies and then, without pausing I threw my hunting knife and hit him with the blunt end, knocking him unconscious. I bound him up, and now… here we are.”