They were still eating when Rudy rubbed the back of his neck. “Is someone watching us?” he asked uncomfortably.
Seagood rose and disappeared into the bushes. Wart stared around the clearing. Nothing has changed, he thought. Or has it? Wart noticed that Rudy and Mathias had drawn their swords and were searching the brush near the camp. When Seagood returned, he was scowling.
“Did you find anyone?” Rudy asked.
Seagood shook his head, but everyone knew they had unwanted company.
CHAPTER 21
Into the Unknown
Safe inside their grandpa’s parlor, surrounded by family, and near the comfort of a roaring fire, eight grandchildren watched their grandfather breathlessly. They could hear the wind howling outside, and the constant pecking of snow against the windows intensified the tension of Grandpa’s story.
Robbie, seated once again on his grandfather’s lap, turned with huge eyes and looked into his grandfather’s face. “How did you lose your hand, Grandpa?”
Destry bit her lip and felt her body aflame with embarrassment.
“I’m about to come to that part, Grandson,” Bill said quietly. “Those of us with John Stafford were busy following the battle at Green Meadow. We had collected many of those fallen in battle before gathering to march after Jabin.”
Out of bowshot from Devia’s fortress, Gaff and Stafford watched as the men of Amity and Emancipation settled into formation. Gaff’s troops were separated from Amity’s by a narrow gap in the press of humanity. John listened as Gaff spoke with great animation. “John, be reasonable! If you leave troops here, they may just assist Devia with whatever scheme he attempts. You won a battle on his doorstep, and he hasn’t even acknowledged your presence!”
“Gaff, we’ve discussed this before. My men signed up to protect Amity. They have been faithful thus far, and I expect them to remain so. I shall be grateful for all who go on with us, and I expect those who remain to be faithful here.”
“But we need their swords!”
“Not if we don’t have their hearts!” John countered.
“John, this is foolish! If you grant your men freedom, they won’t march off to war. Who would?”
“Some will leave me,” John conceded. “But I believe most will come with me.”
“I’ll have to see it to believe it,” Gaff growled.
John just smiled. A young officer rode up and saluted. “All men are present and accounted for, sir.”
Gaff scowled at John. “I will not let my men witness your mass desertion.” Wheeling his mount, he shouted orders, and the men of Emancipation spun on their heels and turned their backs on John Stafford and his people.
Gaff threaded his way between his own companies and then turned to face his men. “Men of Emancipation!” His voice carried across the meadow. “We are about to embark on a long, dangerous mission. Jabin is our target, and we will not stop until he is captured or destroyed. A battle won or lost will not deter us. We must and we will defeat this enemy!”
Raising his hand toward heaven, Gaff shouted, “I commend you into the peace and presence of our Lord and Creator! We go with God!”
John sat and listened. When Gaff had concluded, John turned to his own men. Marshaled before him were nearly fifteen thousand men. Located at the far end of the formation were those who remained from the garrison. Not three full companies had survived. Battle had decimated their numbers but not their spirits.
John dismounted and strolled along the columns of men. All eyes focused on him. “Men of Amity, you have answered the call to arms. You have left those you love and the comforts of home to face battle and death.”
He paused and then continued. “Today you have fulfilled your commitment. You have defended Amity and her borders.”
He stopped and looked directly at his men, and in a voice loud enough for all to hear, he said, “I release you from your obligations.”
A ripple of surprise and excitement flowed through the men.
John continued. “I will go with Gaff. If you wish, you may join me. There is no shame for those who stay, and no guarantees for those who go.”
John’s stroll had left him standing before the remnants of James’s garrison. Addressing the men before him, he said, “Men of the garrison, you have borne this burden the longest. You have been separated from family and have endured local indifference. You were attacked viciously, and yet you never gave way. When outnumbered by overwhelming odds, you did not flee. When your comrades fell at your right or your left, you did not give up. You stood your ground and held the enemy at bay. You, more than anyone, should be free from the agony of this war.”
“The choice is before you. Step forward if you will follow me into battle. If not, remain where you are.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, every man from James’s garrison stepped forward.
Bill watched with the rest of John’s bodyguard as company after company stepped forward to join Stafford and his mission. Very few men chose to stay. Bill was glad, for he did not want to chase Jabin and his forces alone.
John eventually rejoined his bodyguard. “Well, lads,” he said, “are you ready for a long march?”
“Right behind you, sir,” one man called.
There was a snicker, and another man laughed. “We’re some bodyguards,” he said. “Our master rides off, and we stand around waiting for him to return.”
John joined the laughter. “Seriously, lads, you may have chosen the easier route. Those who stay behind will bury the dead. That task alone will take a month.”
“What will Devia think of you leaving soldiers on his doorstep, Captain?” asked a stout little fellow nicknamed Stubby.
John studied his little group. “I don’t know,” he said. “I do hope Jan DeKlerk is tough enough not to buckle under Devia’s clever tongue.”
Far up the line, an order was given, and the men fell into step. Bill was glad to be on the move. If they were just going to sit around, he wanted to be sitting with Mary at home.
They had not marched far when Stubby leaned close to Bill and said, “What the master said sure makes me uncomfortable.”
“What does, Stubby?” Bill asked.
“You heard Stafford say that Jan DeKlerk is heading up those who stayed behind.”
“Yes, why does that make you uncomfortable? Do you know him?”
“Know him? We grew up together. We were playmates, neighbors, friends for a long time.”
“What’s the problem? Aren’t you glad for him?”
“I would have been five years ago, but he’s changed.”
“How?”
“I can’t really say. It’s more of an attitude than anything else. Back then, I’d have said he was the nicest man I knew, but not now. He got into business for himself and became a river rat. There’s nothing wrong with boatmen, and I’ve plenty of friends who work barge traffic on the river, but Jan got in and wanted it all. There’s no way a beginner can get all the business. You start with one raft and one pole and go to work. If you can find good help, you get a second pole, and it makes the travel faster and safer. If people like your work, in a year or two you buy a second raft and hire more men, but not Jan. First year, he had five rafts and some very unsavory chaps helping him. Oh, he makes a lot of money, but those bums working for him are the terror of the river.”
“What do you mean?” Bill asked.
“According to my friends, they don’t think twice about stealing loads. Some lad has a load consigned at a fair price, and DeKlerk’s men show up and undercut his bid. They threaten to rough up the seller unless he agrees. I guess in a few cases they actually have.”
“Where did DeKlerk get these characters?”
“I don’t know. Some say they’re wayward boys who grew up without proper guidance, and Jan doesn’t know how to handle them. Others say they are ac
tually some of Devia’s hired thugs. I tend to think they are Devia’s men. Where did Jan get all the money to buy five rafts when just getting started? I know his family isn’t rich, and it takes some backing to get going in the river trade.”
“So what are you saying? Is Jan DeKlerk actually working for Master Devia?”
“Maybe.”
Wart could feel tension in the camp. Seagood had planned to start after lunch, but knowing they were being watched had unnerved them all. It was decided that they would begin their journey after dark and make their way the best they could.
When Wart was alone with Rudy in the clearing, he complained, “I wish you hadn’t insisted I tell you all I know about this area.”
“Why?” Rudy asked.
“The last time I made a suggestion, two men died. Besides, it’s been a long time since I was here. It may have changed. It may no longer be safe. I don’t want anyone else to get killed on account of my suggestions.”
“Hey, take it easy,” Rudy warned. “No one died because of your suggestions or because you shared what knowledge you had with us. You simply shared what you knew; we made a decision and acted upon it. Things didn’t turn out the way we wanted, but you are taking too much responsibility for Clyde and Darren. All you told us was that there was another path to the river. We took it from there.”
“Yes,” Wart said, “and now we are only four instead of six.”
“And you think if we’d ridden to the Fords and come upriver, everything would have been fine?”
“I guess so.”
“We might have met another group of Jabin’s forces. There’s a good chance none of us would have made it this far. Do you know what Darren was afraid of? Well, I’ll tell you. He thought that band of riders that passed us in the dark were Jabin’s cavalry. He was sure there would be infantry somewhere behind them. He thought the Fords might literally be crawling with enemy troops. He was overjoyed at the thought of cutting across the mountains and hitting the river above the Fords.”
Rudy paused for breath. “I think Mathias thought the same thing, though he was afraid Jabin would march on Emancipation’s weak point, and he wanted to aid his own people.”
Just then, Mathias came into the clearing. “Rudy, are you sharing military secrets?”
“No, Mat. I was just trying to explain to Wart that Clyde and Darren’s deaths were not his fault. And now because he’s told us what he knows about this side of the river, he thinks something bad will happen to us again.”
“The river claimed Clyde and Darren, not your information,” Mathias agreed. “And as for this path—Seagood and I had seen it earlier. We didn’t know what to make of it. It was good to know it was a portage trail around the rapids. That doesn’t mean it is safe, but it does give us a reason for its existence.”
Mathias ruffled Wart’s hair. “Let me tell you something else. Seagood and I have scouted enough to know that a lot of horses and men have passed down this trail recently.” Wart’s eyes grew large as saucers.
“It appears Jabin is preparing a rear attack. He floated an entire army and cavalry down the river sometime yesterday. If we had chosen the route to the Fords, we likely would have met Jabin’s army there and perished. If we had been one day sooner on this path, we might have met our end right here.”
Wart’s eyes grew even larger. “How did we miss Jabin’s army?” he asked.
“And how did Seagood get us off the road in time to miss the cavalry?” Mathias asked. “No one else had a clue it was even around.”
“The Lord was with us,” Rudy said softly. Wart had not heard Rudy talk much about God, but he was beginning to sense that there was something much deeper about these men.
The sun sank low, and shadows grew long. By the time Seagood returned, the horses were saddled and waiting.
“Is the coast clear?” Rudy asked.
Seagood nodded and led the group south to the site of Darren’s grave. They stood in silence, looking first at the fresh mound of earth, and then out over the cold, churning water. Rudy spoke softly. “Lord, watch over our friends until we meet again.”
Meet again? Wart was puzzled. What does that mean? He decided this was not the best time to ask a lot of questions. Quietly mounting his horse, he followed the others into the gloom.
Everyone dismounted at the portage, and even Wart could see that the ground had been trampled by the feet of men and horses.
Rudy, Mathias, and Wart stood quietly, holding their horses while Seagood scouted the area.
“So, what do you know about the Gray Lands, Wart?” Rudy asked.
“On this side of the river, a path runs nearly parallel to the river through a fairly thick forest. The Gray Lands are west of here and are inhabited by quiet, retiring people. That is all I really know.”
“Did you ever meet anyone from the Gray Lands?” Rudy asked. “Are they friendly?”
“No, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone from there,” Wart responded.
“I’ve heard that the Gray Lands are full of witches,” Mathias said, “and I half believe it. I still have the feeling we are being watched.”
They heard movement in the bushes, and Seagood appeared. He gestured for them to follow, and for nearly a mile they led their horses around bushes, briars, and plum thickets. Finally they came to a path no wider than a deer trail in a forest. Mounting, they began a slow journey north. They heard the hoot of an owl nearby, only to have it answered from deeper in the shadows.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Rudy whispered. “I’m sure someone is out there, but I can’t see anyone.” They were about to move on when Wart saw a flash of silver.
“Seagood,” he whispered excitedly. Seagood’s eyes followed the boy’s pointing finger. The next instant, Seagood was on the ground and racing through the underbrush.
“Down,” Rudy hissed, but Mathias was already on the ground, sword drawn and ready for battle. Wart slid from his mount, and with an unsteady hand, he drew his dagger.
“Hold the horses, boy,” Rudy commanded.
Mathias crept forward and disappeared into the dark shrubbery.
“Rats!” Rudy fumed. “Now we’re split up. Stay with me, Wart! It won’t be good if we all get separated. What was that?”
They heard a scuffle in the bushes, but they couldn’t see a thing.
“Rudy,” Wart whispered.
“What is it, boy?”
“I’m scared!”
“Hang on to your courage, boy! Nothing has fallen from the trees yet.”
That thought hadn’t occurred to Wart, and he peered anxiously into the trees above him.
“Sorry,” Rudy said with a smile. He surveyed the limbs overhead and then turned his attention to the dark shrubbery where they had heard the scuffle. “Sure wish those two hadn’t been so quick to rush out there.”
Wart peered anxiously around Rudy’s broad shoulders. A twig snapped behind him, and a large hand clamped over his mouth.
CHAPTER 22
Captivity
Consciousness brought Thomas no relief. Samoth had bound, gagged, and stuffed him into a box among the rest of the cargo. A hired man rode with Samoth as their wagon bounced along a rutted trail heading north. Thomas kicked at the box and only succeeded in cutting his wrists, as his feet and hands were tied together.
“I guess you didn’t kill him after all,” a muffled voice spoke.
“Shut up! Of course I didn’t kill him. We have to make one more checkpoint, and then the coast is clear.”
The creak of leather and the squawk of wheels on worn axles slowed and came to a stop.
“Who goes there?” a voice called.
“Samoth Devia.”
“What brings you out so early in the morning?” the sentry asked pleasantly.
“I have to work for a living.”
Choosing to ignore Samoth’s comment, the sentry stepped near the wagon and held his torch aloft. “Captain didn’t tell us you were coming. What are you carrying?”
Samoth bristled. He hated these checkpoints. “Emergency supplies,” he lied.
“Headed north? We could use them better than Jabin.”
“They aren’t for Jabin,” Samoth said slowly. “They are for a refugee camp some miles north.”
“You’ll never deliver them.” The sentry swept his hand across the western horizon where campfires glowed as far as the eye could see. “Jabin’s men will stop you and take your supplies, sure as anything.”
“You are wasting my time,” Samoth said, his voice becoming shrill. “I have no quarrel with Jabin. He lets me travel and trade anywhere I want.” Samoth studied the sentry with a knowing smile. “What quarrel do you have with Jabin? Wouldn’t you rather be at home with your family than out here patrolling a border you never saw before a year ago?”
The man hesitated, and Samoth knew he had struck a nerve. Continuing, he asked, “Tell me why you are opposed to Jabin. He is no threat to you.”
As if waking from a dream, the man shook himself. “I have never suffered personally, but Jabin’s works are well known. Lies and terror follow his every move. I am opposed to that!”
“You’re a fool. You could have all this world has to offer if you would just try to get along with both sides. Why should we even choose sides?”
The sentry rubbed his chin. “Well, the Good Book says you can’t serve two masters. Either you will love one and hate the other, or you will be obedient to one and despise the other.”
“Will you let me pass?” Samoth asked, trying to change the subject.
“What are you carrying?”
“Supplies!”
“I know that. What kind of supplies?”
“Flour, hardtack, biscuits … you know, things for the larder.”
“No weapons?”
“No, I don’t have any weapons!” Samoth said.
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