The Last Pilgrims (36 page)

“I’d have to admit sir, we have had little
or no information from the north in the last 20 years. We’ve had
rumors from travelers and captured looters, fairy tales and myths
spread by storytellers and minstrels. At one point we were informed
that most of the industrial centers were destroyed by nuclear
missiles and bombs, and that the large cities had been completely
wiped out. Our Aztlani theorists and intelligence groups produced a
white paper, maybe ten years ago, that concluded that the
population of the northern states had been reduced by more than 95%
from its pre-crash levels due to extreme weather, riots, race war,
criminal gangs, and of course the nuclear destruction in the
cities.”

“That was ten years ago, Sir English. We
received those reports as well, but a lot has changed in ten years.
Let us just say that the monster to the north of Aztlan may be
worse than the monster in New Rome. I think you have a lot of
catching up to do.” General Loya sighed again before walking back
around the desk and up to English.

“Sir English, you have given me much to
think about. It is hard to say what the King of Aztlan may do. My
men will fill you in on all of the intelligence we have on Aztlan
and on the situation farther north. After you have had some time to
consider it, I will receive your report and your recommendations as
to how we ought to proceed from here.”

English shook Loya’s outstretched hand and
held on to it for a moment. “Worse than Aztlan?”

“Perhaps, English. But how can we know?”

How, indeed
, he thought. He released
the General’s hand and nodded. “Let me just say, General, before I
retreat to my office to study and pray…” He backed toward the door
as he considered his words. “The Vallenses must be saved, sir.
Without them, all of this is just senseless violence, with power,
greed, and covetousness as the operative forces in the world. If
we… those of us who put on uniforms and fight one another… if we
are not fighting so that free people can live in peace and raise
their families and do good, then… maybe it would have been better
if God had wiped us all off of the earth.”

“I see what you are saying, English, and in
principle I agree. Maybe God will wipe us all off the earth anyway.
He’s made a good start of it. And, I can’t say that I blame
Him.”

“Then save the Vallenses, General. Because
as far as I can see, that may be the only reason God still has us
here.”

General Loya of Mexico walked over to the
window and looked down into the courtyard. “Who knows, English.
Maybe you’re right.”

When the dust cleared, the Aztlani spies
named Atticus and Leo lay dead in the street. Jonathan Wall was on
top of the third spy, the boy named Troy; The Hood, Rob Fosse, and
Marbus Claim still had their bows drawn and aimed at the fallen
spies; and the blind old man named Oswald stood nodding his head
with a smile touching his weathered face.

Ruth, seeing her father prone on the ground,
launched herself past Timothy and sprinted to where he lay in the
street. Timothy rushed after her, intent on doing his duty to keep
her safe no matter the cost. He caught up with her and grabbed her
by her shoulders, not sure that the exchange was completely
over.

“Daddy!” she screamed, wrenching herself
from Timothy’s protective grasp.

“I’m ok, dear,” Jonathan said, steadily
climbing to his feet. “You stay back a bit until we get this sorted
out.”

“Where’s Piggy?” Hood questioned, looking
back towards the service station. “I expected he’d be the first one
here to make sure they were all dead.” He looked askance at the
young man named Troy, then continued, “Clearly they are not... all
dead, that is.”

Timothy looked around and began walking over
to the station. “I’ll go check on him.”

As he approached the low wall, and the
opening between it and the service station, Piggy suddenly appeared
before him, dusting off his pants and coat with his leather
gloves.

A bit startled, “I… uh… hey, Piggy,” was all
he could think of to say.

“Oh,” Piggy said, looking up and noticing
Timothy, “Hello Tim. What’s up?”

“Well, everyone was wondering where you
were, so I said I’d come check on you.”

“Well… isn’t that nice of them.”

“Where’s Rollo?”

Piggy grimaced, half smile and half scowl,
before putting his arm around Timothy and guiding him around the
low wall. Once they were clear and could see behind the wall, he
indicated with his glove towards a bound and gagged Rollo, who
seemed to be unconscious. “Rollo is tied up for the moment.”

He looked at Piggy in confusion, but was
unable to frame a cogent question in his mind.

“This is going to be quite… delicate, and
maybe perplexing for a moment, Timothy. Perhaps we ought to join
the others and we’ll try to clear this all up.”

As they walked back towards the group in the
middle of the dusty street, Timothy noticed that Rob Fosse and The
Hood had bound the hands of the third Aztlani spy behind his back.
Jonathan seemed to be attempting to intercede on the young spy’s
behalf, and Ruth still had a stunned and bewildered look on her
face.

Rejoining the group, he could hear Jonathan
pleading a case for mercy and leniency for the spy he called Troy.
Rob Fosse and The Hood nodded their heads and remained silent out
of respect while Jonathan asked for the militia to spare the boy’s
life, but did not look to be moved by it, nor did they loose the
boy’s bonds.

During a pause in the proceedings, a loud
groan, followed by a very muffled scream could be heard emanating
from behind the low wall. Everyone stopped and listened for a
moment, and The Hood, Marbus Claim, and Ruth all quickly and
quietly readied their bows. Piggy held up his hands to calm them,
and was about to say something when The Hood spoke out… “What is
that? Where is Rollo?” As he asked the question, Hood’s eyes met
Piggy’s and you could see a look of exasperation pass over the
militia tracker’s face.

“Piggy! Piggy, what did you do?”

“I eliminated… or at least I incapacitated a
threat.”

Hood bowed his head, shaking it slowly.
“Rollo?”

“That very Mountain.”

A long, low growl, much like that of a
bobcat caught in a trap, could be heard from behind the wall. Rob
Fosse looked at Piggy. “Did you kill Rollo?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

They all stood in awkward silence for a
moment, waiting for Piggy to explain. He didn’t.

“At some point are you going to tell us what
you did to Rollo and why?” Rob asked.

“I would love to do that very thing, but
people keep asking me pointless questions.”

“So?”

“Like that one,” Piggy said. He looked
around, and saw that the confusion and irritation he was causing
was not as amusing to everyone else as it was to him, so he
relented. “Ok, we’ll go inside and get our guests some water. Then
I’ll tell you why I have arrested Rollo The Mountain.”

Marbus Claim was posted as a guard over the
prisoners. Troy was bound and seated, and a now fully awake and
obviously perturbed Rollo was hogtied on the ground. Timothy wasn’t
sure he could take much more of the suspense. He was curious to
talk to Jonathan about his ordeal. He was also interested in the
plight of Troy the young Aztlani spy. But he was most curious about
why Piggy had arrested, bound, and gagged one of the most famous
militia warriors then living. Rollo was a legend, and he had fought
on the side of Phillip and the Ghost militia for many, many years.
No one had anything but respect for Piggy and for his often
preternatural physical and mental abilities and talents, so they
could not even imagine that he had breached protocol and arrested
Rollo without ample cause.

As they sat around in a circle, drinking
cool water dipped from Oswald’s water catchment box, the tension
seemed to be a weight pressing down on them that only time and
answers could lessen. Piggy took a long drink from his cup, wiped
his mustache and beard with the back of his hand, and began to
explain.

“Rollo is a traitor and a criminal, and I
suspect that he is guilty of murdering the leadership of the
militia back at His Honor Mr. Wall’s ranch.”

The shocking statement was short and to the
point and hit everyone in the room like a cold, bracing wind from
out of the north. Timothy just shook his head because there were
too many loose ends, too much unknown, for him to grasp what was
going on. He felt like his whole foundation was perilously close to
collapsing.

After a long, painful period of muted
gasping and muttering around the room, Jonathan Wall was the first
to speak. “I don’t know you all that well, Piggy, but I do expect
that you have some reason… or some information… or some evidence
that supports this suspicion?”

“Piggy!” Timothy sputtered, finally finding
words and interrupting. “Are you saying that Phillip is dead? How
can you know that?”

Piggy paused for a moment, then stood up,
pulling one of his throwing knives from a sheath attached to the
inside of his vest. He tapped the knife against his hand for
awhile, then began to spin it casually as he spoke.

“I do believe that I have sufficient
suspicion to have acted, Your Honor. And Timothy… I do not
know
that Phillip is dead. I
suspect
that he is dead,
or at least very seriously injured. I suspect that Rollo has
attempted to kill Phillip and Prince Gareth, and anyone else that
might have gotten in his way.”

Jonathan sighed. “So… you are saying that
David might be dead as well?”

“He very well might be sir, but again, I
don’t know that. I just have a very solid suspicion that Rollo has
been working for Aztlan for some time and that he has taken this
opportunity to betray Phillip and the militia. I believe he is here
now to kill you, Your Honor, and would have killed you just now if
I had not intervened.”

Rob Fosse stood up. “Piggy, these are very
serious charges, and they are against a brother. Everyone here,
along with all of the Vallenses and the militia, have the highest
regard for your mind and your abilities. Personally, as Phillip’s
best friend and an officer in the militia, I have the utmost faith
in your judgment and your intellect. I’m willing to go along with
you here for a while, but… I’m hoping you are going to tell us why
you suspect Rollo of treason.”

“Thank you for your support, Rob,” Piggy
continued, the knife spinning lazily on his hand as he spoke, “it
means a lot to me, and I do hope that I have not disappointed any
of you.” He walked over towards the doorway and leaned against it
as if he were very, very tired. “I have suspected Rollo of being a
traitor for a long time. In fact, I have been expecting him to make
an attempt on Phillip’s life for a long while. For letting down my
guard, I hold myself responsible for any harm that has come to
anyone. I am a soldier and must go where I am sent, so I could not
offer any added protection for Phillip when absent. Frankly, I was
surprised that Rollo didn’t attempt to kill Phillip during the
battle of Bethany, when I was at the Wall Ranch. When he didn’t, I
began to question myself and my discernment. I thought that perhaps
I was wrong about the guy. For the first time in my life I began to
have second thoughts about my own intuition. You see, Rollo has
always been a mercenary. I’ve always believed that his allegiance
to Phillip and the militia was feigned and that his loyalty was for
sale. He always resented Phillip, and I could read that on his face
as easily as any of you can read a book. I’ve studied the man. I’ve
watched him. He always was trouble, and I never once trusted him.
I’ve trained with him, and I’ve intently examined his movements
while in battle. He exhibits every trait of the treasonous agent,
and I could never show you that in a way that would convict him in
any court. So I just had my private suspicions, and I waited and
watched.

“When the farmer Ronald Getz attacked
Gareth, my suspicions grew. Rollo was a friend of Getz, and I saw
them meeting together on several occasions. Those impressions
didn’t mean anything to me until after Getz was exposed as a
spy.

“As I said, I began to doubt myself after
the Battle of Bethany, when Rollo didn’t make a move on Phillip and
Gareth, but that self-doubt began to drop away when I saw that
Rollo was never surprised by the fact that the Battle of Bethany
was just a diversion for the larger attack to the East. I watched
his face when we learned that the Vallenses had been slaughtered
out by Comanche… a faint smile was on his lips, and I’m probably
the only one who was watching him intently and saw it. Again, what
could I charge him with? Smiling? Who would listen to me? Phillip
would have taken it under advisement and sent me with the posse
anyway. Frankly, I was just praying I was wrong.

“Then, he showed up at Harmony, traveling by
himself and obviously under stress. When he said that he had a
message for Jonathan, that was when I became quite certain that the
deed was done.” Piggy stood up and began to pace, putting the
throwing knife back into its sheath. “There is no way Phillip would
operate like that. All of you took his word for it, and I
appreciate that, but I did not. Rob, you are the second in command
of this militia. Do you now believe that Phillip would send a
message to Jonathan, bypassing you? Do you think that, considering
all that has happened, and that we were operating away from home in
hostile territory, searching for the leader of the Vallenses, that
Phillip would not give this message to
you
to deliver?”

Rob Fosse looked down, thinking on the
questions intently. “I suppose you are right. It was odd. I didn’t
have the suspicions of The Mountain that you have. I suppose I
should have asked. Thinking on it now, it definitely violated
protocol and was very un-Phillip like.”