The Last Pilgrims (18 page)

“Go ahead, Phillip,” Jonathan said. “Please
tell us whatever it is that troubles you so.”

“We have received outriders with news, and I
thought it would be prudent to share it with you. One rider arrived
from the east, and one from north. Both, I am afraid, bear…
difficult news.”

“What is it, sir?” asked Tim, unable to bear
the tension silently.

“From the north we have heard word
concerning the attempt to rescue my wife and daughters.”
Involuntarily, Ana’s hand came up to her mouth, and her heart
pounded in her chest. “The attempt was apparently betrayed…
somehow… and the men rode into an ambush. Rob Fosse and two other
men escaped. Sir Gerold and the rest of my men were killed. We
suspect that the Aztlanis have fled the area and there is no word
concerning the whereabouts of my family.”

Betsy gasped, and Ana clasped her hand in
order to silence her.

Jonathan approached Phillip, who still sat
on his horse, and reached for the hand of his old friend. Neither
man could find words, so they stood there for some time before
Jonathan finally spoke. “Phillip, we are all with you in your
sadness and grief, and we will remain with you in prayer until your
family is returned to you.”

“Thank you,” Phillip responded gravely,
straightening himself in the saddle and clearing his throat.

“From the outrider who rode east, we have
heard that some of your people… a large number…, the refugees who
fled before the Bethany battle—those who did not stop at the banks
of Lake Penateka—were overrun by an Aztlani force of unknown
size.”

“We don’t have any details, and I’m sorry to
be the one to bring this news. We fear that there has been a great
slaughter. We’ve sent outriders to try to gain news of what
happened. Apparently, some of the Vallenses had stopped on this
side of Comanche, and others had continued as far as Chalk
Mountain. I don’t know when we’ll know the full details. I… I just
thought that you would want to know as soon as possible.”

Ana watched Jonathan’s face, as the
information Phillip shared washed over him and slowly became a part
of his new reality. His eyes looked glassy and damp as he looked up
and nodded to Phillip again, this time patting him on his thigh as
a sign of thanks, appreciation and unity in their mutual
suffering.

She knew that Phillip, by all measures, had
led a rough life; but he did have the mannish outlet of war and
violence. She wondered if he could ever know of the sufferings of
the Vallensian pastor. When she looked back at Phillip’s face, and
saw in it the stoic shield that guarded him from any outward
display of his own grief, she knew that Phillip did know.

In the darkness, the fireflies carried on
with their business, and the soft summer breeze continued to ruffle
tent flaps and lift sparks from the fire high into the Vallensian
night. Ana followed the sparks with her eyes, saddened by the news
and impotent to do anything at all about it. The fireflies reminded
her that as bad as things were, she was glad that her new world
wasn’t limited to a blackened screen with a scrolling message that
said ‘stay tuned’.

It was now fairly obvious that the Duke had
double-crossed him. He had to face the unpalatable fact that, until
now, he was being used, and this could mean only one thing—the Duke
was aware that he was a spy; and if the Duke knew, then so did the
King of Aztlan.

Based on the report that Pano, his long-time
assistant, had just given him, it was obvious that Duke Carlos
Emmanuel, that quintessential royal buffoon, had used him to plan
the assault on Bethany as an elaborate diversion. Maybe the
pretender-in-chief wasn’t that buffoonish after all. He thought
about that for a moment. Maybe the whole affair had been part of
the setup.

He had always figured, at least in some deep
recess of his consciousness, that he would be caught. Especially
after he had sent Gareth to meet, and try to unite, the old friends
Jonathan Wall and Phillip. Still, he had always somehow managed to
file that knowledge away so that he didn’t have to really consider
it, not to mention the consequences that would necessarily follow
once he was exposed. Oh, if he could just be back on his parents
farm, slopping the pigs!

English sat pensively at his desk in the
tower of the Chimenea Castle and went over all the facts. Could it
be?

Ok, he thought, let’s assume that the Duke
has known for some time that he was a spy, and that he would be
passing information to the Vallenses and the Ghost militia. The
Duke then allowed him to plan the assault on Bethany knowing and
expecting it to fail. Maybe he didn’t care—he would still benefit
from its success. The Duke’s plan must have accommodated the
likelihood that English would find some way to warn the Ghost that
the attack was imminent. The Duke had, unknown to his own
secretary, already sent a larger army to the south, bypassing
Bethany and proceeding to the east to cut off any Vallensian
escape. Skirting Bethany would also allow the army to eventually
attack from the east where the Vallenses were more vulnerable.

Moreover, if the Duke already knew that his
secretary would send the Crown Prince to warn Jonathan Wall and
Phillip of the attack,
and
he allowed that plan to proceed,
then that means the King was in on it too. The King must have
expected or hoped that Gareth would fall in the battle, and it
would have been a great way to get rid of a troublesome and
rebellious son.

Unless Gareth was in on it too.

No. Now he was just being paranoid. He knew
Gareth just as well as he knew Phillip. Gareth was an idealist and
a true believer. In fact, if anyone had a just cause and the right
motivation to see the King of Aztlan fall, it was Gareth, the
King’s own son.
Just stick to what you know
.

He had to assume that Gareth was supposed to
die. If that was true, then somewhere out there, to the east among
the Militia, was someone whose job it would be to kill Crown Prince
Gareth of Aztlan; and he wouldn’t be able to warn him.

The kidnapping of Phillip’s family had not
been just a chance happening, stumbled upon by escaping spies.. The
militia leader’s wife and daughters were clearly a part of the plan
to lure Phillip away from Bethany.

English rubbed his head with both hands and
took a deep breath. It was all too confusing. How had he let
himself be outwitted by a half-pint drug dealer? There was no way
that the Duke of El Paso had come up with, and actually
accomplished, such a subtle and layered plan. Someone else; someone
higher up—perhaps the King himself—had devised this plan. Or… there
was a mole so close to Phillip that even The Ghost didn’t know who
he was.

So Phillip, far to the north of Bethany, had
been forced to decide between his own family and saving the
Vallenses—a win/win scenario, as far as the King was concerned. If
Phillip had decided to save his family, the Aztlanis holding his
wife would already be aware that a rescue attempt was coming, and
would execute a carefully planned ambush. Most likely Phillip would
have been killed along with all of his men. If Phillip decided, as
he did, to rush back to Bethany, there was no guarantee that he
would arrive on time. Maybe he would be killed in that engagement,
or otherwise assume that the Bethany attack was the main attack and
let his guard down. It would be very unlikely for him to realize
that the attack at the Bethany Pass was just a diversion. He
certainly wouldn’t be expecting the real attack force to be way
east of Bethany.

What a disaster!
And now I’ve been
exposed as a spy
.
But given that I haven’t been arrested
yet
, English thought,
the Duke must assume that I have not
yet figured that out. My arrest must be imminent
.

His assistant Pano sat patiently in the
overstuffed chair, waiting for his boss to speak. English finally
looked up at him and smiled.

“Perhaps you can go through that list again,
Pano. Indulge me. I apologize if I am a bit… distracted.”

“Yes sir, I understand. Finding out that you
have been exposed as a spy—and a poor one at that—cannot be
easy.”

“Perhaps you could have done better?”

“Oh, I don’t know boss. I’m not the one
whose head is about to be cut off.”

“Would you just read the report,
please?”

“Around 2,000 Vallensian pilgrims were
captured and killed outside of Comanche by the main force there,
and any eastward escape route has been, for the most part, cut off.
We don’t know if there is another army heading towards Bethany from
the west or the south, but I’d bet there is.

“The Duke has sent a formal letter to
Jonathan of the Vallenses denying Aztlani culpability in both the
Battle of Bethany, and in the slaughter at Comanche. He claims that
rogue elements in his government—presumably by that he means
YOU—working with rebels and agents of the King of Mexico were
responsible for these atrocities against the peaceful Vallensian
people.”

“Those are all lies.”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t with you the entire
time. Maybe it’s true,” Pano said, trying to mute the grin on his
face.

“They are lies, Pano.”

“Yes sir, but very believable lies—at least
to the Aztlani people in New Rome, and those in other Kingdoms that
pay attention to such things. Certainly the King and the Duke
expect to use these lies in their propaganda efforts.”

“Ok,” he said, rubbing his head again, “go
on.”

“The letter from the Duke to Jonathan Wall
encourages Jonathan not to react rashly to the massacre, and also
states that any assistance or aid given to the rebel militia would
be considered an act of war by the Vallenses against the Sovereign
King of Aztlan.”

“A war that Aztlan has already declared, and
is already waging on the Vallenses!” English shouted, slapping his
hand on the desk.

“The Duke has called for a full meeting of
his council this afternoon. You are expected to be there, and he
specifically requested that you be in full dress uniform.”

“I am always in full dress uniform. So, I
take from this that I am to be arrested in front of the council
this afternoon?”

“That would be my guess,” Pano replied,
nodding.

“And I don’t suppose that I will be allowed
to leave the castle, or the city?”

“Certainly not by any of the… normal
routes.”

English cocked his head and glared at Pano.
“You have an abnormal route you can suggest?”

“I think I can arrange it, boss. In fact, I
do have a plan. But you aren’t going to leave me here to handle the
Duke’s wrath. I’m going with you.”

English stood up, walked to the window and
looked down into the outer bailey and the main gate. He assumed
that the Duke had doubled the guard at all of the gates. An escape
was a doubtful proposition.

“How might you arrange such a thing?” he
asked.

Pano smiled. “I’ve brought a wig and some
prostitute’s clothes.”

“Would you please be serious?”

Pano shrugged, “I know a way out that no one
else is aware of, but I won’t reveal it to you until you promise to
take me.”

“Ok!” he sighed, “I’ll take you, but if
we’re going to go, we need to get moving. I seriously doubt that we
can even get out of this office, much less leave the castle or the
city.”

“We’ll get out,” Pano reassured him,
smiling. “Now take off your tunic. We’ve got to get it mended.”

“I never take off my tunic!”

“Take it off, boss, if you want to get out
of here.”

Pano moved quickly as English reluctantly
took off his coat. Bending over, the assistant pulled a boot knife
and cut two of his collar buttons. English stared at Pano as if the
man had just committed a sacrilege.

“Ok, boss, you have to pull this off. Acting
shouldn’t be hard for you since you’ve been a spy for so long.
Here’s the deal… you do not know that they know that you are a spy.
Put that out of your mind. Everything is cool. You’ve just popped
some buttons on your tunic, and we are taking it to the laundry
mistress to have the buttons re-attached.”

“Why would I go with you? Why wouldn’t I
just send you? After all, you are my assistant… although, if I
weren’t going to be beheaded, I’d fire you this instant.”

“Listen, boss, everyone knows how you feel
about this coat. You are a freak. Nobody understands your
attachment to it, but everyone knows about it. You’d never let it
out of your sight. You even launder it yourself. People would be
more suspicious if they saw me walk by with it without you
following me like a pit bull that just had his bone stolen.”

“I like my tunic.”

“No, boss, no,” Pano said, wagging his
finger, “something weird is going on between you and this coat.
Still, that is what is going to get us out of here. You have to
look as if you aren’t expecting to be beheaded today, so there is
no reason for us to be stopped. This is a castle, and they figure
that you can’t get out, so just act like yourself… you know, a bit
angry, narcissistic, sarcastic, and irritable.”

“Now you are just being mean. What do we do
if we get caught?”

“What are they going to do, execute
you?”

He gave Pano an exasperated look, “Will you
please take this seriously?”

“I will…
if
you say that you’re sorry
for calling me ‘Puddinhead’ in front of the Duke last week.”

“I’m sorry for calling you
‘Puddinhead’.”

“Ok. I forgive you.”

“When we get out of here, I’m going to ditch
you.”

Pano laughed, “I doubt that you’ll want to
when you see where we’re going.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Are you ready?”

“I suppose I have to be.”