The Stonegate Sword

Chapter 12: The Captives

They met for several days in the Tubal fire-pit, a sunken chamber in the main armory of the fortress. A round room it was, in the center of the building, with vaulted roof and a central fireplace, made for the councils of war. A copper hood and chimney, green with age, hung down from the high ceiling to capture the smoke, which it did very well. The air in the room was clean and sweet. The whitewashed walls and high slit windows made it seem light, not gloomy as one would have expected.

Donald, Samuel and three of the weapon-masters of Tubal worried over the problem of the captive women like a dog worries a fresh bone. A sand table had been set up next to the fire. On the table was a cunningly made scale model of the raider's stockade. The roads, walls, buildings, as well as the surrounding hills were clearly shown. Don sat brooding, staring at the model with his chin cradled in his hands.

"If, as you say, these raiders are your enemy," asked Don, addressing the weapon masters, "Why does not Tubal attack in force? We could easily free the captives in the confusion."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," responded the oldest of the three, named Enos, his close-cropped beard and hair reflecting the ruddy glow from the hot coals. "But such an attack would be most unwise, and we certainly could not get the council's permission to break the truce."

Don felt his face flush, and he could not help knotting his fists. "Why not?" he snapped, in more of a demand than a question. "Does the council fear this ragtag band so much? Stonegate would have no hesitation in attacking them! Is your council a bunch of old women? I don't understand you?"

"Come, now, young man," responded Enos, in a composed, but cool tone. "The leader of this 'ragtag band,' as you call it, has high political connections, some say reaching to the chief servants of the Black Prophet himself. It would be most injudicious to attack them unprovoked. This is quite obvious. The young women are not ours, you see. We have no treaty with Stonegate or with any of the Twelve Free Cities -- indeed, the East drove many of our ancestors away in the time of troubles. Remember, waging war is the place of the young, but starting war is reserved to us graybeards. It would never do to reverse our roles!" At the last comment, all but Don chuckled.

There seemed to be sense in these words, but Don felt no relief of tension. "I repeat my question," he said stubbornly. "There would be also a great advantage in removing such a threat from so near your walls, and this is not part of the Prophet's domain."

Enos sighed and looked with a hint of exasperation at his two fellows, who resembled him greatly. They were named Caliban and Elias, and were also masters in the fabrication and employment of weapons of war. Enos began again: "Then hear me anew. . . . But I see that we have refreshments." A page appeared, bearing a tray with five foaming mugs. When all were served, Enos exclaimed: "Stonegate ale! A favorite of mine -- and yours, I think, Lord Donald. That is if you are a true son of Stonegate. 

May the walls of Tubal and the Gates of Stone long stand!"

They all gave a murmur of approval at this toast, Don included, and Don drank deeply with the others. The pleasant taste of the ale spread through him, warming like the noon of an August day. It did remind him of the pleasant days in Stonegate before his stupidity ruined everything! Those pleasant times in Westerly seemed like a half-remembered dream, yet even those pleasant times were now edged with gloom.

After a moment, Enos wiped foam from his mustache and continued, a bit pompously: "We of Tubal . . . We of Tubal, like the House of Healing and the Town of Gibeah, lie on the edge of the realm of the Black Prophet. He does not rule us, but in one way or another we all pay him tribute. Should he care to, it is within his power to destroy us."

"Why has he not done so?"

"We are all walled cities and would be costly to take. Secondly, we are all allied with each other. An attack on one would be an attack on all. If he were to attack Gibeah, for example, he would risk losing the medicines and sword blades. On the other hand, and more to the point, we dare not attack him, either. We do not care to provoke him. Our alliance would not protect us if we were the aggressors, and the Black Prophet would have all the excuse he would need to destroy us or exact a ruinous tribute. We must be careful. I hope you understand."