“Your cousin?” Philip was astonished. “What was he doing?”
“I’m not sure … but I think he was kidnapping me!” Katherine said, suddenly confused.
“If you please, sir,” Mary interjected. “You must move your troops at once. Master Devia has moved a large number of troops into Capri, and they could attack at any minute.”
Philip looked at the woman who had ridden in with Katherine, and his jaw dropped. He glanced at Katherine for some explanation, but Katherine was speechless. The firelight clearly revealed the woman who had ridden with her through the forest. Her “friend” was nothing more than a skeleton covered with skin. Large masses of disheveled hair fell from her skull, and her eyes were sunken almost from view.
Her mission complete, Mary toppled with exhaustion.
Philip rushed to her side and cradled her emaciated body in his arms. He looked to Katherine for some explanation, but there was no answer. Katherine had fainted.
“Where is Katherine?” the voice whispered in the darkness.
“She got away,” Mercinor said flatly. In truth, he was glad she had escaped. He was beginning to resent this whole arrangement.
“You idiot!” the voice hissed. Mercinor heard a blade clear its sheath, but he did not flinch. “Look, you imbecile, I’ll give you one more chance. Meet with Philip and persuade him to surrender. If you succeed, both you and Philip will save your lives.”
Mercinor thought of a stinging rebuttal but decided to hold his tongue. The man’s sword disappeared, and he heard several other weapons sliding quietly back into hiding. He was glad he had kept quiet.
As his hooded contact disappeared into darkness, Mercinor turned his back to the docks. “The Two Maids Tavern and a mug of Barleyman should cure my ills,” he thought. Stepping toward the dimly lit grog shop, he was grateful to put the shadows behind him, even if only for a while.
CHAPTER 51
Choices
Philip accompanied the men carrying Katherine and her friend until they reached the edge of Waterfront, and then he returned to the camp. What did that strange woman mean about Devia’s army being about to destroy us? he wondered as he walked. He was nearly back to his quarters when he saw Shadow stomping restlessly near his tent. He stooped to examine the cuts on the great horse’s legs and belly and then began the slow process of bathing each wound and rubbing balm into each cut. Several men assisted him. They were nearly finished when a youth hurried toward him and said, “Mercinor Gammel is waiting to speak with you, sir.”
“Mercinor?” Philip asked. He was the last person Philip had expected to see. He did not understand Katherine’s story, but if it were true, he would need to be wary of Mercinor.
“Give me a few minutes to finish here, and then bring him to my tent,” Philip said.
“Yes, sir,” the lad responded and walked quickly away.
Philip had just sent Shadow away with another lad when Mercinor Gammel appeared in the campfire light. “Good evening, Mercinor.” Philip tried to sound genial. “What brings you out so late tonight?”
“I’m sorry for the intrusion, Philip,” Mercinor said rapidly, “but I wanted to warn you.”
“Warn me of what?” Philip asked casually.
“Your doom!” Mercinor said with flair. “You and your men will be slaughtered tomorrow morning.”
Is Mercinor trying to frighten me into surrender? Philip wondered. If what Katherine’s friend said was true, Mercinor might just be telling the truth. “I know,” he said calmly.
“You—what?” Mercinor stammered. “But how?”
“A woman from Capri just informed me. You have merely confirmed her report,” Philip said coolly.
Mercinor stood with his mouth agape.
Philip eyed Mercinor and then continued. “I don’t suppose you know who else I’ve seen?”
“I have no idea,” Mercinor grumbled. Philip noticed Mercinor’s shoulders sag and his enthusiasm ebb. It looked as if Mercinor’s pride had taken a blow to know that a woman had stolen his thunder.
“I’ve just been chatting with your cousin,” Philip goaded.
Mercinor jerked to attention. “Who?” he asked.
“Katherine Gammel,” Philip stated flatly. “She is your cousin, is she not?”
“Yes, but …” Mercinor began.
“I don’t suppose you know where Katherine has been, do you?” Philip asked.
“No, I—” Mercinor stammered.
“I didn’t think you would. I doubt you have seen Katherine for days, have you?”
“As a matter of fact—”
“She escaped from your raft by jumping into the river and fleeing into Northglen Forest!” Philip interrupted.
Even in the firelight, Philip could see the color drain from Mercinor’s face.
“Why did you tell her the tug had been burned?” Philip demanded. “Where were you taking her, Mercinor? You nearly scared your cousin out of her mind!”
“No, Philip!” Mercinor shouted, waving his hands for Philip to stop. “You’ve got to believe me. I was only trying to protect her! She is in danger every minute she is near you. Philip, don’t you realize Master Devia is out to get you? He’ll destroy everyone who is close to you!”
Philip became quiet.
“Look at the threats against Rhoop!” Mercinor stated. “And look at old Gandrel; he’s dead, isn’t he? Everyone knows Katherine is sweet on you. I was afraid she would be the next target. Do you know where she is now?”
“Stonewall,” Philip said, looking away. Maybe Katherine had been wrong about Mercinor. Maybe it was all a mistake.
“Well, at least she’ll be safe for a while,” Mercinor began. “But how long can your fortress stand against the world, Philip. Look around! Amity is changing. You and your men cannot stand against Master Devia’s army.”
“I know,” Philip said quietly.
“Well?” Mercinor said. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing!” Philip said.
“Nothing!” Mercinor shouted. “You can’t be serious! They will kill you and your men, Philip! Why don’t you surrender quietly, and maybe Devia will offer you clemency.”
“Aren’t you forgetting that my father committed Amity into my care? I can’t just surrender,” Philip argued.
“Philip,” Mercinor pleaded. “Think of your men and the people of Waterfront and Sebring. Add to those people all the refugees who have come here for protection. If you resist Master Devia, there will be war, and thousands of innocent people could be killed. You don’t want their deaths on your conscience, do you? You just need to be a little more tolerant—”
Philip cut him off. “More tolerant! Evil flourishes in the name of tolerance. It is high time someone took a stand for what is right. Right now I’m finished with tolerance!”
Mercinor was aghast. “Philip, this posturing will only get you killed. You have to think about the good of the nation. If you want to die, that is your choice, but you can’t ask others to die with you!”
Philip remained silent.
“Look, Philip,” Mercinor pleaded. “Come to terms with Master Devia. Everyone else has, and they aren’t faring too badly. In fact, things are going quite well in Zaraphath and Deep Delving. The mines are busier than ever. River traffic has never been so good.”
“Is commerce everything to you, Mercinor?” Philip asked coldly. “The woman who fled Capri tonight was terrified of Devia’s rule!”
“I don’t believe it!” Mercinor snapped. He sounded sure of himself, but his face showed a hint of doubt.
“The woman had been starved and abused and was in no shape to travel, but she fled rather than spend one more day under Devia’s rule. How can you believe that everything will be all right once Devia takes over?” Philip leaned forward. “You’ve been listening to a lie, Mercinor! Someone p
romised you riches and power if the Stafford family was overthrown.” He inched closer to Katherine’s cousin.
“No!” Mercinor pleaded, backing away.
“You planned the attack on Katherine, didn’t you? Did you kill Gandrel yourself, or was it one of your men?” Philip accused.
“Philip,” Mercinor begged, “you have no proof. You can’t establish—”
“I have proof enough!” Philip shouted. “Katherine’s been right about you all along!”
“Philip, wait!” Mercinor fell to his knees, lifting his arms before him. “Katherine and I have never seen eye to eye. Don’t listen to her!”
“I haven’t listened to her enough!” Philip roared. “It was a wicked thing you did, chasing your own cousin into Northglen Forest. Katherine is fortunate to be alive!”
“Look, Philip,” Mercinor began again. “I didn’t mean—”
“Get out of here!” Philip shouted. “Go back to your master and find out how merciful and kind he is! I charge you with only one thing, Mercinor Gammel. Don’t ever go near Katherine again!”
“Philip …” Mercinor protested.
“Be gone!” Philip shouted.
Mercinor suddenly rose to his feet and stood tall, his face hardened with hatred. “You are going to regret this,” he hissed. Turning away, his eyes flashed in the firelight.
“Shall we stop him?” an old man asked anxiously.
“No,” Philip responded. “Leave him alone. He’ll receive his reward.”
It was still an hour to sunup, and Philip sat holding his head in his hands. Had Mercinor been right? Did he have any right to put innocent men and women into open conflict with Master Devia? He heard a sound and looked up to see Peter Sikes hurrying toward him. “Peter!” Philip called. “What do our scouts report?”
Sikes looked grim. “There is a large army stationed just east of Capri, sir.”
“Did the scouts get an estimate of how many were there?” Philip asked.
“They estimated fifteen thousand, sir,” Sikes responded.
“How many men do we have, Peter?” Philip asked, already knowing the answer.
“Three hundred, sir!” Peter responded.
“What about our volunteers?” Philip asked.
“The old men, sir?” Peter asked. “I’m not really sure. Quite a few of them went home after serving sentry duty.”
Philip smiled. Peter was so by-the-book. A haphazard approach to war didn’t sit well with him. Philip wasn’t sure he could depend on the old men either, but they were nearly all he had, and the Creator of heaven and earth could use any willing heart. “What do you suggest, Peter?”
“I think we should retreat and defend Stonewall, sir,” Peter said without hesitation.
Philip nodded. It was the answer he had expected. “What shall we do with the citizens of Waterfront and Sebring?” he asked.
The young officer suddenly looked at his feet as he answered. “We can prolong the battle if we leave them outside.”
“Only prolong, not win?” Philip asked directly.
“Victory against such odds is very slim, sir,” Peter responded. “However, we might be able to hold Stonewall until your father returns.”
“All right,” Philip said as he considered the possibilities.
Peter Sikes looked up expectantly. “Sir?” he questioned.
“It’s settled,” Philip stated. “I do not know when my father will return, and I refuse to sit like a caged animal inside Stonewall while Devia has his way with the people who have come under my care. Peter, you and I will take our stand against Devia in the open. If we fail, we fail!”
Though the order sealed his fate, Peter Sikes stood unflinching. “Yes, sir!”
“Send a message to Rhoop and tell him to begin evacuating everyone from Waterfront and Sebring into Stonewall immediately,” Philip said.
“Yes, sir!”
CHAPTER 52
Taking a Stand
“Peter, divide the men into three companies. I want you on my right and Andrew on my left, with the volunteers gathered behind me. We can block the road to Waterfront unless they cross the river or enter the forest.” Philip’s orders were crisp and clear.
“Yes, sir!” Peter turned and began to shout orders.
They had marched hard all morning and had reached a place where Northglen forest nearly touched the river. With the field thus narrowed, Philip could block the Greenway and thus deprive Devia of his goal, if only for a while.
Across the small valley, Philip could see a vast army milling about on the distant hillside. While Peter positioned his men, Philip noticed among his company several hundred well-trained soldiers from Stonewall, although most had never seen battle. Behind those men was a gathering of old men clinging to sticks and clubs. Among the volunteers, Philip spied a child.
Beckoning to the boy, Philip asked, “What are you doing here, lad?”
“I came to help fight, sir,” the lad said boldly.
Philip frowned. “It may not be a pretty sight.”
“I ain’t scared!” the boy said with determination.
Philip studied the lad for some moments and then nodded gravely. “All right, but you need to stay in the back. I need my best men back there. Will you do that for me?”
“Yes, sir,” the lad said as he turned and marched boldly to the back of the gathering. There were smiles among the men.
“Gentlemen,” Philip said, and all eyes turned to him. “We have the enemy right where we want them. It will cost them dearly to proceed beyond this point.”
There was a slight murmur among the men as they considered what it would cost each one of them if the enemy moved beyond this point, but Philip continued to speak. “Remember your families. You are here because of them. We need not be afraid, for the Lord is our refuge and our fortress. He shall be our shield and buckler. We will not fear the terror of night or the arrow by day. Though a thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand, yet no evil shall befall thee.”
“Let us pray,” Philip said, sinking to one knee. Every man took a knee and bowed his head. “Lord, You have promised to protect us if we trust in You. Become a bulwark against our enemies and cover us with Your grace and mercy. Help us stand against all that is wrong. We place our trust in You alone, amen.”
There was a quiet murmuring of “amen” among the men, and slowly they arose to take their positions. Something had happened in those few moments on their knees. The men had changed. There was no longer a spirit of fear among them. They had given themselves to the Lord, and however this turned out, they would be with Him. It was with grim determination that they gripped their clubs, spears, and swords.
Philip noted the change and nodded his approval. Quietly he chose twelve men to form a central guard, a bulwark upon which the enemy would fall, and placing himself front and center of that bulwark, he turned to await the onslaught.
Across the valley, Devia’s army continued to mill about in confusion. Peter left his position and strode to Philip’s side. “What do you make of it, sir? Are they trying to intimidate us with their numbers?”
“I don’t know,” Philip responded. Then with sudden inspiration, he shouted. “That’s it! We’ll give them a chance to surrender.”
“Sir?” Peter questioned.
Philip didn’t answer but rapidly pulled the knapsack from his back and procured a scrap of paper and some ink. Quickly he jotted a note on the paper, folded it in half, and called for the lad near the back.
“Sir?” the lad asked as he approached.
“Would you deliver a message for me?” Philip asked.
“Yes, sir!” the boy said, eager to be of service.
“It will be dangerous,” Philip said. “You will have to cross into enemy territory.”
“I can do that, sir,” the lad
stated with confidence.
Philip handed the boy his note and a large white flag. “See the man on the black horse near that cabin?” he asked.
The boy studied the opposite hill for a few moments and then nodded.
“Take this note to that man, and wave the white flag as you go,” Philip instructed.
The lad nodded and took off sprinting toward the enemy lines.
“That’s Jan DeKlerk, isn’t it?” Philip asked Peter.
“I think so,” Peter answered. “But, sir, should you have sent a child?”
“He has a flag of parley,” Philip answered. “He should be safe enough.”
“I hope you’re right,” Peter responded. “From all I hear, Jan DeKlerk is a treacherous man.”
The exuberance on Philip’s features faded. “You’re right,” he muttered. “I’ve been a fool.”
Jan DeKlerk stood in his stirrups. It had taken all morning to move less than one mile. Everything was going wrong.
He watched Philip positioning his men, and he turned to his leading officer. “Who does Stafford think he’s fooling? That ragged gathering can never stop me!”
“You’re right, sir.” Christopher Heims grinned.
Jan glanced over his shoulder as another company of his own men shifted positions. “What the devil is going on?” He directed his question toward Heims.
“I’ll check on it, sir,” the officer responded.
Jan’s henchman was gone only a few minutes before returning. “We have a small problem, sir,” he said. “The men from Amity balk at fighting with Stafford’s son.”
Color crept into Jan’s neck and rose to his temples. “We’ll see about that!” He wheeled his horse around to face his troops. He felt a sudden thrill as he viewed the massive number of men under his command.
“Men of Amity!” DeKlerk shouted, raising his hand to garner attention. Company commanders shouted orders, and men began to settle. Finally, the vast army grew quiet. “You have heard that Philip Stafford holds Amity for his father. That is not true! John Stafford is dead!” The field had grown quite silent, and Jan DeKlerk continued. “Since your master is dead, why should you serve his son? You are free to choose your own master now!”
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