The Stonegate Sword

Chapter 24: Sweeping the River

CHAPTER XXIV

SWEEPING THE RIVER

 Donald had not foreseen every problem with the sweep, no matter how much he, Aaron and Old Robert had tried.  This was hammered home by a farmer’s wife near Deebeck, a village less than a day’s ride upriver from the Bishop’s toll booth.  It sprawled north and east of where a major side channel met the Collar river, just above the point that the river entered the canyon.  She had a small dairy, with meadows near the village.

             They had begun the sweep here.  They had little time.  Reports indicated that the vanguard of the Prophet’s army was only 5-6 day’s march away.  All farmland downriver from this point was in the Bishop’s domain.  Even here, many followed the Prophet.  The people would have to choose which way they would go.  Those who wished could take their belongings, livestock and food and go downstream to the Prophet’s lands.  Others could move upriver.  But the infantry levies from Ariel and Haven systematically moved throughout the area and forced everyone to leave.  No food or livestock was allowed to remain.  But no one had the stomach for kidnapping anyone against their will.

             The first few farms were the hardest, since they had received no warning.  It took a full half-day to get them moving, and the levies were not gentle. But it took some time to pack a lifetime’s belongings in a couple of wagons.  A motley caravan finally began heading south, led by bearded, angry men, driving herds of cattle and flocks of sheep and goats.  Wagons carried families, pets, pigs, chicken, to say nothing of children.  At the same time, those who feared or hated the Prophet started north.  Don was forced to put haystacks to the torch.  It was regrettable, but there was no reason to leave feed for the Prophet’s army, and there were not wagons enough to move the hay.  But they were able to salvage most of the food.

             Don found himself standing face to face with an angry farm wife, holding Snap’s reins in his hand and feeling foolish.  She wore a red handkerchief over her hair, almost as red as her face.  A tan apron covered her dress and her hands were on her hips.  “No, you can’t just drive my milk cows away,” she repeated, angrily.  “They have to be milked every day.  Even if you turn the calves onto the cows it won’t be enough.  They give far more milk than the calves can drink.”

             “We can’t stop the drive so you can milk the cows whenever you want,” answered Don.   “What would it hurt if they weren’t milked for a few days?”

             “You blockhead!  They would probably die.  That is what would hurt!  We can’t allow that!”

             Don did not know what to do.  He knew that he was beaten for the moment, at least.  He told her that he would see what he could do, mounted and rode back to talk to Slim, the commander of Blade Troop.  Was this an old wife’s tale?  On the other hand, milk stock were valuable, not just to the owners, but to the war effort.  He and Slim checked with some farm boys in the troop, who backed up what she had said.  Something would have to be done about the milk cows.  It was just one more worry.

             Don jogged back to where the woman was loading her wagon.  He greeted her, somewhat shamefacedly.  “I have decided that you can drive your own milk cows,” he told her.  “You will be responsible for milking them morning and evening.  Keep them alive.  We will need the milk.”

             She gave him a quick smile of thanks.  “My cows can’t move fast, but they can keep up with this mob.  Be sure of that!”  Then she turned and continued loading boxes, with the help of a teenaged boy.  Don beat a retreat.

             The first farms were the hardest, since each farm they passed as the column moved north had advance notice that they had to move.  Some were nearly ready when the troops arrived.  Some tried to resist, but that was not tolerated.  A few hotheads were trussed and thrown in a wagon like a sack of potatoes.  Some families left with tear-streaked faces, others too shock-stunned to weep.  A few tried to hide, but the infantry was ready for that, and systematically beat their way through the willow thickets and hedgerows.