“Katherine Gammel,” the old man said. “I would like a word with you before Philip arrives.”
Hearing her name, Katherine leaned heavily against the wall and tried to slow the hammering of her heart. She turned to face Lord Rhoop.
“Do you come here often?” Rhoop asked. His voice was neither accusing nor demanding. “It is a lovely place.”
Katherine wanted to answer, but she didn’t trust her voice.
The kindly old man seemed to understand. He beckoned to an old wooden bench among the ivy and ferns.
Katherine stepped slowly to the old bench and seated herself. Rhoop did not speak, so Katherine finally broke the silence. “I used to come here with Philip,” she said, feeling suddenly very shy.
Rhoop smiled under thinning whiskers.
Silence fell between the two, and Katherine felt terribly awkward. “I really must be going,” she said, starting to her feet. “I’m sorry I bothered you.” She wished now that cook had not left the kitchen door open for her.
“Katherine,” the old man said, “I wouldn’t be here except that Philip likes to come here after the day’s work. It is one of the last quiet places left to meet.”
“I know,” Katherine said, “and I really am sorry I bothered you.”
“As I was about to say,” Rhoop broke in, “I think you should stay. Philip might need some special comfort this evening.”
Katherine blushed deeply and was glad the darkness hid her face.
“Please stay,” Rhoop continued. “The news I have for Philip should be heard by you as well.”
Katherine looked at Rhoop in surprise, but before she could ask any questions, they both heard a jolly voice booming down the hall. “Ho ho, my good Rhoop! What tales of woe and disaster can you tell me tonight?” Katherine wished she could disappear.
The door opened with a flourish, and Philip understood the scene at a glance. “Company tonight!” he sang, swooping down on the bench and wrapping his arm around Katherine’s shoulder. “A good night for viewing the stars, don’t you think, Rhoop?” He laughed.
The old man could not conceal his mirth. “Ideal,” he commented.
Katherine blushed. She wondered if these men had formed a conspiracy, they were so alike. She sighed and rested her head on Philip’s shoulder. She liked the earthy odors of sun, dust, and hard labor. Still, she had no business here, and she began to rise. “You men have business to discuss,” she said.
Philip caught Katherine’s slender waist and gently pulled her back. Turning to Rhoop, he said, “We have nothing to discuss that Katherine can’t hear, do we?”
The old man shook his head, and Philip turned back to Katherine. “See? I would like to watch the stars come out again with you by my side.”
A distant lamp in the city caught the twinkle in Philip’s eye, and Katherine thought it the loveliest sight she had ever seen. “Very well,” she said with a sigh, “if you are quite sure I won’t be a bother.”
“Quite,” Rhoop said quickly.
Katherine relaxed and snuggled under Philip’s strong arm. The evening air was taking on a chill.
“How does the harvest proceed?” Rhoop asked.
“It’s going well,” Philip responded. “The wheat is coming in, and the farmers are happy. It has made a huge difference with the refugees as well. Their food is bought at the price of some blisters and hard feelings, but your plan is working out very nicely. Barley is nearing harvest, and that should keep people busy most of the summer.”
“Good,” Rhoop said. “But don’t make harvest your only concern.”
“Has something happened?” Philip asked with sudden concern.
“There have been more reports of unrest in the west. Master Devia is building a wall.”
Philip grew very still. “What do you mean, building a wall?” he demanded.
“He is building a fortification that stretches all across the pass, from the Independence Mountains to the Guardian Range,” Rhoop explained.
“But that is over three miles,” Philip exclaimed. “Where on earth is he finding the labor?”
“He is using the men who did not follow your father north,” Rhoop said. “He is also using the citizens of Green Meadow.”
“Civilians?” Philip asked in disbelief. “I can understand using soldiers, but why civilians? Who made this report, Rhoop?”
“A river merchant by the name of Ralph Crider,” Rhoop answered.
“Can he be trusted?” Philip asked.
“He has worked the river a long time, Philip. But on his last journey upriver, he was not met at the docks in Shepherd. He could not find a wagon for hire, but he did get a cart to deliver his goods directly to Green Meadow. When he neared the city, he saw women and children being herded into communal gardens at the ends of whips, while men and boys worked on the wall. He came to inform you as soon as he returned.”
Philip stood and began to pace the floor. “Amity has civilians in slavery!” He pounded a fist into his palm. “Although I suppose there are those who think I am doing the same thing here.”
“They might if you were driving people to the field with whips,” Rhoop said.
“What about the wall?” Philip asked, changing the subject. “Isn’t that a project for the council? Of course, it could be argued that there wasn’t time for council deliberation.”
“Philip,” Rhoop said, “there is more news, if you can bear it.”
“What else, Rhoop?”
“As the wall grows, so does Devia’s arrogance. He has proclaimed himself king of Amity, and any who oppose his authority are taken to Green Meadow and forced to work on the wall.”
Philip sat down on the bench next to Katherine, and she slipped her hand into his.
“Shall I continue?” Rhoop asked.
Philip nodded his head.
“Ralph Crider found that many have already pledged their loyalty to Devia. Zaraphath, Deep Delving, and those left around Headwater all support him. The people of Shepherd have gone into hiding. Highland, Capri, and Southglen are wavering in Devia’s favor. At this moment, you have only Waterfront and Northglen on your side, for Sebring is not entirely with you.”
“Why?” Philip asked, looking up. “Has something happened in Sebring?”
“Crider stopped at a grog shop after returning home,” Rhoop said. “Inside were some unsavory chaps who spoke openly that the country would be better off under Devia. There was a brave young man who raised his glass and offered a toast to the House of Stafford. Before the crowd could join him, the thugs hustled the young man outside, and no one has seen him since. When the ruffians returned to the grog shop, nothing more was said about the House of Stafford.”
Rhoop suddenly exclaimed, “Philip Stafford has no right to rule!” Then he studied Philip’s reaction. “That is what most men were saying before Crider left the grog shop.”
“They are right,” Philip said, looking up at Rhoop. “I would not be here if Father hadn’t pushed the council to appoint me.”
“There is yet more,” Rhoop said quietly.
“More?” Philip asked, shaking his head.
“There is a reward of five hundred gold shekels for your life, Philip. Someone wants you dead!”
Katherine gasped.
“You should not go to the harvest fields tomorrow,” Rhoop said. “You would be far too exposed. Five hundred shekels is enough money to tempt even your most loyal subjects!”
Philip sat for a long while. When he finally spoke, his voice was so soft that Rhoop and Katherine could hardly hear him. “This morning I was the ruler of Amity. Tonight I am a fugitive.” He turned to Rhoop. “Someone is trying to frighten me out of doing my duty, Rhoop, but it will take more than this. If I’m killed going to the fields, so be it, but people are going to know I am here to help them, no matter what.”
&nb
sp; “Good for you!” Rhoop smiled. “I was hoping you would say that.”
Katherine gripped Philip’s hand and then released it. Standing, she stepped to the railing. Far below she could see the Crescent River churning between its muddy banks. Across the river, light shone from nearly every house in Waterfront. The walls of Stafford House blocked her view of Sebring, but in her mind she could see her cousin Mercinor Gammel. He would be willing to pay such a sum, though it wouldn’t be with his own money. The money would come from much father west, and she could think of someone who hated Philip enough to spend that kind of money.
Mercinor Gammel walked the docks of Sebring, keeping to the shadows. Candlelight from nearby taverns left the docks largely in darkness. He did not know who he was meeting or where, but he had received a summons to meet on the docks. It had been this way since he had first been asked to help with Stafford’s overthrow. Gammel leaned against a boat moored to a piling and stretched his legs. I wish they would quit meeting me like this, he thought. I know they don’t want to reveal themselves until the proper time, but this is ridiculous!
Gammel watched a man stagger unsteadily from a nearby tavern, followed closely by two burly thugs. The bullies grabbed the drunk, removed his money pouch and a knife, and then struck him savagely and pushed him into the water. Gammel heard a splash and watched the men return to the tavern. Where is that fool I am supposed to meet? Gammel wondered. Suddenly he heard the scrape of a blade clearing its sheath. A shiver ran down his spine. “Who’s there?” he whispered.
A voice spoke from the darkness. “Where have you been, Gammel? I’ve been waiting all night.”
“I wasn’t told where to find you. The message said to meet you on the docks,” Gammel complained. “I’ve been waking these docks since dark. I was about to give up.”
“Why haven’t you removed Philip from power?” the voice asked.
“Look, I’ve tried everything,” Gammel said in exasperation. “Philip doesn’t intimidate easily. He still goes into the harvest fields, even though there is a price on his head.”
“He has to have some weakness,” the voice demanded.
Gammel considered Philip: the man didn’t drink, smoke, carouse, or party. He did study the Holy Scriptures a great deal, but even Mercinor didn’t think that was a weakness.
“Does he have any close friends?” the voice asked.
“Sure,” Gammel responded. “I can think of two immediately: Rhoop and Gandrel.”
“Get them!” the voice demanded.
“What do you mean?” Gammel asked.
“Win them for the Master,” the voice said.
“That’s impossible,” Mercinor said. “Rhoop is Philip’s advisor, and Gandrel is just a gardener in Waterfront who doesn’t care who is in power as long as he can tend his garden. Besides, he is very loyal to Philip.”
“If they won’t come willingly, take them by force,” the voice said.
“Kidnapping?” Mercinor was incredulous. What was he getting into?
“Call it what you want,” the voice said. “It might get results, and the Master wants results. Is there anyone else, a woman by chance?”
“Katherine.” Mercinor chided himself. Why hadn’t he thought of her before? She would be an easier target than either Rhoop or Gandrel.
“All right,” he said aloud. “I’ll do it.”
“You’d better,” the voice warned. “The Master wants this taken care of immediately. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Mercinor said, and he was about to add that they need not be so pushy, when he heard several other blades being drawn in the dark. He wisely kept his mouth shut.
A menacing whisper cut the air. “Don’t fail us, Mercinor Gammel!”
Master Devia did not have a large audience as he sat upon his throne at Green Meadow and issued his decree. “I want control of every city, village, house, and farm! Secure people’s cooperation by flattery or intimidation, whichever is needed. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir!” Jan DeKlerk answered.
“Move quickly! You shouldn’t meet much resistance until you near Stonewall and Waterfront. We have men in Sebring, which should weaken Philip’s position considerably.”
“What about Capri?”
“That is a good question, but I think they will fall in line.”
“What do we do with dissidents?”
“Send them here! They can work on the wall!”
“When do we leave, sir?”
“Tomorrow morning. Conscript troops from every town you enter, and gather enough foodstuffs for your men. Keep law and order. I want no looting! If you need extra supplies, requisition them. I’ll see that you get what you need.”
“Very good, sir!”
“Captain, things are going well, but I don’t want any snags in my plan. Capture Stonewall and send for me. I want the throne!”
“Yes, sir! Is that all, sir?”
“There is one more thing, DeKlerk: God’s speed.”
Jan DeKlerk clicked his heels and saluted smartly. Turning, he thought to himself, You old cheat! What would you know about God’s speed? Besides, do you think I’ll conquer this country just to give it to you? Not by a long shot!
Jan DeKlerk followed Master Devia’s orders to the letter. Taking nearly one thousand men with him from the soldiers that John Stafford had left behind and from the men of Green Meadow, he hoped to build his numbers to over eight thousand by the time he gathered men from other towns and villages throughout Amity. It was a heady experience to lead such a large force of men.
Starting early, they set a steady pace and had reached the ruins of Headwater by midmorning. Soon after passing Headwater, a young man clad in crimson and white rode forward and called out, “Captain DeKlerk!”
Jan studied the brash young man and asked, “What do you need, Braten?”
“There is a makeshift hospital some miles south of here, sir. Should I ride over and see if any of the men are able to march with us?” Braten asked.
Jan DeKlerk rode in silence for a few moments. He wanted able-bodied men who wouldn’t slow him down. “No,” he answered. But as an afterthought he asked, “Do they have any supplies we could use?”
“They probably don’t have much,” Braten responded. “Devia cut off their supplies some time ago.”
“How do you know all this?” DeKlerk asked.
“I’ve been keeping my eye on that place, boss,” Braten sneered. “There’s a good-looking gal running things there. How about I take a few of the boys over and grab everything that’s useful and destroy the rest?”
Captain DeKlerk studied Braten for a few minutes. The man was treacherous, but he knew his trade. What did it matter to DeKlerk if one small group of maimed soldiers lived or died? If it meant that Braten was out of DeKlerk’s hair for a while, it was well worth the mission. “All right. Go steal what you want, and kill the men. But bring me the girl.”
Braten grinned. “Sure thing, cap’n!” Pulling out of formation, he began to call companions by name. Jan glanced back as Braten and nearly twenty men headed south. They were all clad in crimson and white.
I should have known, DeKlerk thought to himself. Those men are all Jabin’s. I doubt they need that many, but I wish they’d get what they deserve.
CHAPTER 44
Jennifer’s Hospital
While political intrigue rocked the major cities of Amity, casting everyone into a state of confusion and fear, some remote regions of the country seemed to be forgotten. John Stafford had sent a young woman by the name of Jennifer away from Green Meadow along with several wagons filled with wounded men. Because she wanted to help these men, she was to take the wounded to her grandmother’s farm and care for them far from the ravages of war. The plan had worked quite nicely as long as shipments of supplies came every week, but when John Stafford and the army o
f Amity had marched north to chase Jabin, the supplies had begun to dwindle in volume and regularity.
Jennifer had rationed their supplies carefully, but things were looking desperate. “I could use some help with the dishes,” she called. A groan arose from those seated around the barn, but several men struggled to their feet.
Larry Chavez was among the first. Jennifer had helped him so much, it was the least he could do. He remembered all too well the dark days after he’d lost his leg. At that time he’d wanted to die, but then Jennifer had come into this life.
Holding his bowl in one hand, he gripped a homemade crutch in the other. Balancing on one leg, he tried to walk. “Aye, lassie!” he called. “I’ll give ye a hand!” he said, trying to imitate the brogue her father had used in Green Meadow.
Jennifer giggled. “That sounds funny coming from you,” she said.
He grinned. “How am I doing?”
“Lovely,” she said, beaming. Stepping near, she planted a light kiss on his cheek and then dashed off to collect more wooden bowls.
Larry used his forearm to mop the sweat from his brow. “It’s tough work just to get up,” he mused. “Can I take your bowl, Carter?” he asked. James Carter was a wiry chap who had lost both his legs in the battle of Green Meadow.
“Thanks, Larry!” Carter said, handing over his empty bowl.
Larry balanced both bowls in one hand and hobbled outside. Jennifer was already at the washtub, elbow-deep in suds, washing the dinner dishes. Larry had almost reached her when Carter’s bowl slipped from his fingers, hit the ground, and rolled under a nearby tree.
Jennifer could see his plight, but rather than dash after the bowl, she merely asked, “Did you lose something, Larry?”
“Yes, dear,” Larry responded sarcastically.
Jennifer wasn’t cruel. She knew it was important that these men learn to laugh at themselves and become self-reliant again. Her own father had lost an arm in the Battle of Great Bend, and it had taken months for her family to learn that life goes on.
Larry dropped his remaining bowl into the wash water and studied the slender girl before him. “How do you do it?” he asked. “You work all day, take care of everyone, and yet never seem to grow weary?”
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