Chapter Eight.
“Councilman, I am asking questions that only you can answer. Please, what can you tell of the party that passed through the gates of this city on their way north? They wore green trousers, brown shirts, and grey jackets with green accents on the shoulders and back with blue stripes on the arms.”
“Wide-brimmed hats with black hat bands. This was a large group of men with weapons and a large group of women wearing clothes unsuitable for traveling.”
Alan was standing in front of four men seated at a curving table. “What reason would you have to refuse my question?”
The man in charge of the council looked at Allen. “There were some men who traded with us for food and horses, and promised more to come. They also said that men of violence and poor character would follow them.”
Alan shook his head. “Sir, how can I convince you I have just as much credibility as those men? I can promise you materiel wealth, and that wealth will arrive in two weeks’ time. How is this different from what those men promised? I stand here inquiring. Those men stood in front of a group of women and girls and offered some of them to you. I know how they operate.”
He pleaded. “If they traded anyone to you, let me talk to them and see if they are the ones I seek. If they are, I will pay for them. Any price you want, I will pay it. I am looking for two people in particular, a man, and a woman and they are both called Doctor. I will pay handsomely for their return.”
The man at the center of the table stood. He was well dressed, hi face lined, his hair grey and he definitely ate well and often. His face was covered in acne scars. “Do you think we would be associated with this?”
Alan shook his head. “I know there are things you would not like the people outside this room to know about out. My commanding officer has tasked me with retrieving two kidnapped individuals, Your Honor. I don’t care what goes on in your city. I just need to find those two doctors.”
The mayor glared darkly at Allen and proclaimed, “It is suspected that you are one of the people we were warned about. People who would kill or enslave us if given the chance.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa your Honor. That is a lie.”
Alan looked at the council. “I serve men such as yourselves. Powerful men. Wealthy men,” His hands on his hips, he walked in a small circle, ignoring the pair of armed men that were there to make sure he behaved.
“These men do not want a conflict with you. Conflict is bad for business. People die. Property gets burned. Livestock gets slaughtered. Children get orphaned. Wives and mothers weep for the dead and demand vengeance. The people I represent want trade, not conflict. Things get better when people are peaceful.”
The Counsel leaned in, voices hushed as they discussed something. A reedy looking man seated to the left of the mayor looked at Allen. “You say that in two weeks we can expect an invasion from your people?”
“No, señor, that is not at all what I said. In about two to three weeks, our trade people will arrive in this area to discuss what things we can trade for. I am not the best person to be asking this. I am not a trader or a diplomat, I am doing what my commander ordered to do, find the doctors.”
His answer did not impress the city council.
He shrugged. “I imagine food for things like metals and things like that. I am here because I need answers. People in your lands told me to ask you for help.”
The reedy looking man and the mayor looked at each other. The thin man turned and asked, “And what if we tell your people that you never arrived here? You offer us wealth, but at the expense of the group that has offered us wealth and trade as well. If you were never here, we could reap the benefits from both groups willing to offer us their trade.”
“Well, councilman, it good I am not easily frightened because that sounded like a threat.”. Allen was coldly calculating. “You could head down that path, but I would recommend against it.” He smiled. “Please don’t take this as a threat against you or the people of this town. I estimate the tradesmen will arrive in 2-3 weeks. The men that are following close behind me are not traders, carters or craftsmen. They are soldiers, following the same orders as I am. ‘Retrieve the Doctors at all costs. The soldiers will be in uniform. Their equipment will include heavy arms.”
“I have a man waiting for me outside your city walls, a very smart and tough man whom I have ordered to wait and watch whenever I enter a town or fort. His job is to ensure my safety. He will inform the soldiers following me about what happened.”
Allen faced the council, spread his legs shoulder length apart, stood straight and clasped his hands behind his back. Standing square and relaxed, without a hint of fear. “His task is to inform others of my fate, not to seek revenge through violence. I am no poor man pleading for help, nor am I bluffing. I am not alone. My unseemly disappearance will be acted on. And it will HURT. The leadership will share the burden.”
The mayor stood up and sputtered, “You threaten us? Watch out, the gallows are unused!”
An armed man wearing the dark blue shirt of the city watch entered the room. He was an older man. His face was guarded, but he looked like a pleasant man. His hair was completely white, eyebrows, his beard. Even the stray hairs on the back of his wrists. His shirt differed from the watchmen. His shirt was double-breasted and had brass buttons and yellow bands around the collar and the cuffs of his sleeves. He walked over and huddled with the rulers of Redford. Allen began to worry. He made sure no trace of his worry showed on his face or in his body language.
Someone just introduced an unknown factor to the game. "I know who ruined my hand," he thought sourly.
After whispering for a few moments, the watchman left the huddle and stood by the door behind the leaders. The town council sat back at their table, each of them with a very smug look on their ruddy faces.
The mayor said with a smile, “It seems, señor Zapata, that your bluff has been called. We have caught your man entering the city. Bring him in!”
Allen tensed up, while the two men guarding him braced for a fight.
Four men entered the room, carrying the almost dead weight of Michael Stevens.
Allen relaxed and barked out a short laugh. “Well, your Honors, you had me worried there for a moment.” He let out another chuckle. “This young man is Mike Stevens. I encountered him about a week ago. He is chasing the same men I am. He told me they took his sister. I have no reason to disbelieve him. No sane man would follow these people for any other reason. He is suffering from a concussion. Kicked several times in the head, beaten and left for dead.”
The leader of the City Watch raised an eyebrow and asked, “So you left him for dead then?”
Allen glared at the man. “I did not. As a matter of fact, I left him with food, water, and his horse. Come to think of it, I also left him a rifle and a pistol. I told him to stay where he was and my men would find him and take care of him. He is not very good at listening, although his head injury might be the reason for that.”
Allen shook his head.
“He’s tough, I’ll give him that. He might have been raised to be tough rather than smart, but he successfully managed a large ranch with a team of workers, so he's probably not stupid.”
The quiet man to the mayor’s right finally spoke. A dapper little man, with short black hair and beard. Dark eyes. “So it wouldn’t bother you if your man just disappeared?”
Allen gave him a considering look. “I told you, he’s not my man. I can’t think of any laws he can have broken in the short time he has been here. I would find that a little disturbing. This morning I left him tied to a tree, about five miles from here. Once again, telling him to wait for the men following me.”
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The watchman in the fancy shirt nodded and said, “He told us that. He also said you left him a message. It was strange. ‘Baby Face’ pursuing subjects, party moving north. TEACUP. Township unaligned possibly hostile, don’t fuck’em up for no reason. Confirmation ‘Nelson.’ What’s it that mean?”
Allen peered at him inquisitively, head cocked and an eyebrow curved. “It’s common English. I didn’t realize that was not a common tongue around here. Maybe if you said the words loudly and slowly, you could figure them out.”
The man flushed, resting his hand on his holstered pistol and growled, “What does it MEAN, pendejo!”
Allen looked at him, then turned back to the council. “I've been tracking these men. I have been leaving messages for the scouts following me. This young man is one more sign marking the trail I have been leaving for my people. In the equipment you have taken from me, you will find a dark green leather roll with belts and buckles holding many metal tubes. Also, a dark blue cloth pouch with a square pad of thin paper covered in small lines, and a few other things. Would you mind bringing them in? I would show you something, if I may.”
His hands once again clasped behind his back, he just stared at them. “Surely you are not worried that I might somehow escape or injure someone with a pouch full of writing utensils?”
The mayor gestured at one guard, making a shooing motion with his hand in irritation. “Juan!”
The man jumped and hastened from the room.
The only sound was of Mike’s labored breathing. Allen turned and addressed the three gate guards. “Did you have to beat him? It should have been obvious that he is injured. Not a threat to three strong men like you.”
One watchman flushed, then growled, “What do you care? You said he aint your man.”
Allen shrugged and said, “He is not. Death threats and beatings show a lack of honor here.”
The head watchman looked very close to shooting him.
Allen looked at the watchman. “The world has fewer people. Nightmares walk under a burning night sky, hunting men, women, and children. The world is a much colder place. Most men keep a lookout for others, hoping to receive help if they ever find themselves in trouble. I guess the people of Redford are different.”
The guards got pissed. The one to the left of Mike spat out, “Fuck you! He fell off his fucking horse! We didn’t do shit to him but ask him a few questions, and that fuckin’ horse ‘o his bit Little Billy bad enough to send him to Doctor Finlay!” The other two guards looked ready to get violent. The man who was sent to fetch his things entered the room. The mayor gestured at him while glaring at the three guards.
Allen looked at them and then nodded his head. “My apologies Guardianes, that was vulgar of me.” Shaking his head, he continued. “I have been chasing monsters. Every burned farm, burned body, dead horse, and poisoned well has made me lose hope for decency.”
He gave them a short but formal bow from the waist.
“I know he is very heavy. Maybe someone could find him a chair?” Allen turned back to the city council. He motioned to the things laid out in front of the guard.
He inquired politely, “May I approach??”
The guard looked at the city masters and said, “SÍ señor.”
Moving slowly and carefully, he unbuckled and unrolled the green leather case. The roll was packed with small metal tubes that were arranged in neat rows. Strips of stretchy cloth held the small canisters. The end of the tube had a knurled metal cap. Small pictures painted on the canisters depicted leaves and vibrant peppers.
Allen held one up to be inspected. “They made this of a metal called tin. These little containers are all made EXACTLY the same. They used to contain various herbs and spices for cooking. You would have opened them by now. You know they are all empty. But they are completely waterproof.” He pointed at the pad of paper. “This is for making maps. The grid is used to show distances.”
He pointed at the roll of paper. “This is called printer paper. You’ll notice how thin it is. If I may show how tough it is.” He looked at the guard and mimed tearing the paper with his hands. The guard unrolled a short length and tried to tear it. It took a grunt and a lot of effort before the paper tore.
Allen returned the small spice container to the table in front of the guard. He pointed to one of the thin, dark blue cylinders with a slim brass band about a third of the way from one end. “Pull the ends of that apart, Por favor.” The man complied. The end of a pen appeared. “Place the short piece over the end of the other. Look at the end you uncovered.”
“Please show it to the councilmen. I hate to ask, but can any of you write? I mean no offense. Please, write something on that piece of paper you tore off. Write as small as you can.”
The guard looked over as the thin man snapped his fingers. the guard handed him the paper and pen. The man wrote out something on the paper. He scrutinized, then wrote tinier, then tinier again. His eyes widened a bit. He then looked up. “Touch it please, it will not smear.” The eyes opened wider. “And now, Señor, if you would mind pouring a little from your water cup, you’ll notice the ink does not run.”
The eyes narrowed as they came up. Allen could see the wheels turning.
“Those flat wooden sticks are called pencils. They are like charcoals that artists would use to sketch.” Allen moved away from the table. Returning to his original position a few feet from the table. In front of the mayor.
“Take one of the larger sheets of paper, fold it a few times, and it will fit into that waterproof spice container. I have been leaving detailed maps and messages for my people in places that I trained them to look for. And so has my partner.”
Allen looked each council member in the eye. “We left detailed messages so my people know the direction we headed and the day we left the message. Even if you find my man outside the walls, the soldiers will still find out what happened to me. I notice my pocket watch is missing from the pouch. Do you have knowledge of its whereabouts? The tiny clock.”
The mayor started, then blushed. “Oh, uh yes. I have it right here. I was going to show it to the council.” He pulled out a palm sized silver colored fat metallic disc, with a small silver chain and a clip on the end.
Allen nodded. “Push the stud on the side opposite the chain. The watch will open up.” There came a small click and the watch face sprang open. Allen watched as the councilmen leaned in closer, their eyes wide as they watched the second hand move around the dial. As one, they turned and looked at the enormous clock behind them. A tall affair with hanging weights on a chain instead of a pendulum.
Allen cleared his throat. “That small thing in your hands is accurate to within a minute over a year. They made it of a metal called stainless steel. It won’t tarnish or rust. The glass that covers the face is extremely tough, though I would ask that you trust my word on that rather than hit it with something. I can sink it in the deepest lake or in the ocean. And it will still work. Keeping perfect time, even if it were so deep as to be unrecoverable by any man.”
He heard a scraping noise behind him as someone finally poured Mike into a chair. The three guards wincing and massaging their lower backs. All three of them looked at the men sitting at the table. Beseeching with their eyes to witness such a marvel. The head of the watch glowered at them. They meekly pretended to monitor the prisoners.
Allen continued, “You have examined my rifle and pistol. My dagger, my compass, and telescope. My saddle and the rope hanging from it. That small metal rod is a fire starter. That flexible card in the paper sleeve is a magnifier made of flexible glass. It makes small things like tiny writings appear larger. You can lay flat on the larger pieces of paper and it has a scale that helps with making maps. It can also focus sunlight to start a fire.”
Allen turned in a circle and evaluated his audience. Every man in the room who wasn’t suffering from a concussion was paying close attention.
“Councilmen, I am making a point. These are things I just threw into my saddle bags before beginning my trip nearly three weeks ago. I set out with a close friend to visit a mutual friend at his Villa. We equipped ourselves for a five-day trip. And now here I am. Three weeks later. I tell you this because these things are evidence of something. An opportunity. These things are common among my people. They are not rarities for the wealthy landowners and leaders.”
He paused for a moment, and his voice changed. Louder, and more resonant. “These things are common everyday items. Now imagine that skill, artisan-ship and expense put into things made for war. Imagine the wealth required to equip large groups of soldiers for war. Not just things like weapons and ammunition, I mean food for them and their horses. Wagons. Clothing, boots, belts, hats. All made the same. In the same colors and all of them fitting different sized men and women.”
Allen continued. “The training ammunition for using those weapons is costly. As is food for the horses.”
“Then there are the medics. Men and women who have medical training. They go into the field with the men. Their jobs are to find soldiers wounded in battle, oftentimes while the battle is raging around them. Bandaging up the wounded so they don’t bleed out, then pulling them to the safety of the field hospitals and doctors securely behind the battle lines.”
“The Army’s doctors and surgeons keep the men free from disease and also keep them from dying after being wounded in battle. The doctors and surgeons are special to us. They require years of schooling. Years.”
He glanced around the room. “The doctors are special; we protect them at all costs. It is a crime punishable by firing squad for harming or killing medical personnel. Taking hostage or kidnapping. Some poor desperate souls have tried stealing them, to take back to their small and distant townships to help their families and neighbors. Sadly, sometimes it does not end well for them. The Army has destroyed entire communities as a lesson to others.”
He paced in front of the table, and the council riveted their eyes on him. The two men who had escorted him into the room were watching rather than guarding.
“Someone has kidnapped two doctors. The woman doctor, a battlefield surgeon, is the wife of my commanding officer. My commanding officer has ordered me to return with both doctors. BOTH of them. My commander would not condone any special treatment or privilege simply because of their marriage. But I have been told that I can do whatever I deem necessary in order to retrieve her. They also implied that whomever caused her death or contributed to it would face the devil himself.”
Allen looked around the room. “You have no reason to believe me. I offer slim proof for my claims. I know what you’re thinking. Is he being straight with us or is he lying? In all this excitement, it could be hard to keep track of what might be true. But this is a dangerous situation. A misstep could take your heads clean off. So you gotta ask yourselves one question. Do you feel lucky? Well, do you, señores?”