King of the Wild Campfire
Davy came from a long line of cooks. There were rumors of his ancestors being involved in a multitude of boilings, burnings and brandings, all unsubstantiated. It was a known fact his father was a cook under General Washington in the great rebellion. Poppa Crockpot swore he could make anything edible. His stews could contain anything from horsemeat to horse apples. There was not a single, documented incident of his cooking causing death or serious illness. Times were no leaner in Valley Forge than in most rural homes. The rule was, "Ye et what ye could get."
Davy surely inherited the family talent. His first original recipe was Chinaberry wine. Many men vowed, "after a jug of that man and jug both had a hangover." His cobbler pies ran from decent to spectacular being made from anything that could be picked off a bush or tree. The pinecones had to be picked when they were still green. The mature cones would not soften regardless of how long they were boiled.
His deer and bear steaks were the finest in the country including the unsettled portions. Men have been known to kill for the opportunity to put a knife in one of Davy's steaks. Bear grease was good enough for the bulk frying like potatoes, squash and okra. The finer pieces to tickle the palate, like squirrel and mushrooms were fried in opossum fat.
When there was sufficient time he made acorn flour. It took a week of boiling, drying and grinding to go from the nut to the finest flour that ever sifted across a dough board. The acorn batter was so light and fluffy he had to add a few rifle balls to keep it in the frying pan. The sorghum syrup kept the finished fritters from floating away. The salads could have anything from dandelion to corn shuck and dressings were beyond conception. Some of the best had bases of tree saps. They not only stuck to your ribs, they would stick to anything. Everybody has heard of his coonskin cap. Fur was about the only thing he did not cook.
The following is one of the few written recipes left in the Crockpot family. Slum Gullion, Davy himself referred to as "the manna of the gods." If you cook this outside you can expect to have every critter for miles around to invite himself to have a bowl. You might post a couple of well armed and trustworthy relatives in the corners of the yard for protection from the unscrupulous and hungry.
Boil a half dozen tomatoes until they and the water become one in body and spirit. Skins and seeds may be strained from the luscious slush and return it to the flame to simmer. While the water does its thing with the tomatoes, dice and sauté a generous portion of beef, ham, or mutton. The cubes should be dainty and not overly deprived of their natural animal fats. If you use bear meat gently carve out all the visible fat. Bear meat has fat in places your knife can never reach. Davy knew nothing about cholesterol and considered the taste buds the consummate judge.
Crank up the flame to give a full boil and ease in the meat. While the cubes of protein dance on the churning waves of the little red ocean let your fantasy run wild with vegetables. Stir in fat white potato slices until they make a valiant effort to hide the bobbing meat. Whole kernel corn, separated and split onion rings, thin sliced carrots and chunks of green beans will add color, flavor and anticipation.
From the spice rack add black pepper until the aroma gently wafts up in the steam. When the steam ripples up your nose you will have to lock you legs around a fence post to keep from floating away. Repeat with garlic salt and sage. Simmer until all vegetables are soft. Now is when the artillery-laden relatives are needed the most. The moochers are understandable but those dirty, repulsive creatures with the saltshakers have to be stopped.
To say she was a tomboy was master understatement. At ten she was the pitcher on a boys softball team and had a batting average to which boys aspired, though she did run a little funny. Girls are built like that. Sunday was ladies day in dresses and every red curl in the perfect place. Monday through Saturday it was jeans, scruffy sneakers and pigtails. Maggie Dollop's pet was a four-foot python, named Cynthia. The python’s home was a battered rifle cabinet with a bit of straw in the bottom and a long oak limb standing at an angle for Cynthia to stretch and work out her kinks. The snake diet was mostly raw ground meat. Frequently the neighborhood boys would drop by with a freshly caught mouse. Everybody knew she would turn her nose up at the stiff ones.
Every year each class would have a Show-and-Tell. Miss Hawkins, the fourth grade teacher anticipating Cynthia's visit had delayed this class as long as possible. She even visited Maggie at home to get preconditioned and politely refused the opportunity to hold Cynthia, not that conditioned.
The big day came. Elbert V. Cody, the fifth, did his annual dissertation on his stamp collection. He could drone on for hours about perforations, cancellations and those technical things that normal children care nothing about on a warm spring afternoon. When Miss Hawkins caught herself nodding off to sleep she decided it was time for the next student, Maggie.
Maggie sat her twelve inch cubed box on her desk, withdrew the snake and Cynthia smiled for the class, if snake can smile. She was glad to have the opportunity to stretch. Maggie had done her homework, explaining how to tell Cynthia was non-poisonous. As she draped the pet about her neck she talked about constrictors in general. Miss Hawkins imagined a constrictor as a necklace getting smaller and smaller. Cynthia eyed the desk next to Maggie's. Tully Mulligan had a mason jar with a live frog. Petting Cynthia, Maggie sat down with the snake still across her shoulders.
Tully was next. Extracting the frog he stepped in front of Maggie and mumbled a few generic frog facts memorized from the encyclopedia. Cynthia slithered down Maggie's arm for a closer look. Miss Hawkins smiled weakly, "snakes and frogs," she thought. "Why couldn't everybody collect stamps?"
In a flash, Cynthia's head darted out and took the frog from between Tully's thumb and forefinger. Passing the support of the desk Cynthia hit the floor in a writhing mass, every bite further engulfing the frog. Girls screamed, boys squealed and Miss Hawkins prayed for an earthquake or tornado to intervene. Tully watched the scene in gaping awe. His only words were, "Neato, frogburger." That was it. Miss Hawkins, with one hand on her stomach and one on her mouth raced for the nearest ladies room.
Welcome to the first meeting of the Pea Ridge Literary Society. Our community maybe small but we deserve to have access to good literature not just those magazines with slick paper and dirty pictures. We realize a working family is limited in the amount of money they have in their budget to spend on books. All this good stuff we discuss is available through the county library. Maggie, the librarian, will be happy check out any of it to you and it doesn't cost you a thing.
In the future, we are planning to have "honest to goodness" writers and book people as guest speakers but until then we will use the resources at hand. Our first author to discuss will be William Shakespeare. "Old Will" was born in the late 1500's and over the next fifty or sixty years wrote a lot of good stuff. Including "Taming of the Shrew" which was set in the castle days of Italy. Do you know what a shrew is? A shrew is a critter. It is a little critter maybe the like an oversized rat. The main thing about a shrew is it none but some mean. None of the other critters will jump right up and volunteer to tangle with a shrew.
"This here" Kathryn was the oldest daughter of Bautista, he was a rich gentleman of Padua. She was a lady, if I may use the term loosely. With her fiery spirit, wild temper and tongue like a "blacksnake whip" the "fellas" didn't exactly crowd around the castle door to court her. In fact the whole town called her, but not in her presence, "Kathryn the shrew."
It seemed unlikely, in fact it was impossible anyone would want to marry her. Bautista was stuck. He had a younger daughter, Bianca, and all the boys were hankering to marry this beautiful, sweet, lovable gal. Now Daddy could not let Bianca get married because the oldest daughter was suppose to get married off first. It was one of those seniority things. Back in those days observing tradition meant a lot.
It just happened a "fella" named Petruchio came to Padua, looking for a wife. The reason he was looking was because they came with a dowry. A dowry meant papa not only paid for the wedding, he paid the groom for marrying the bride. Kathryn's reputation made the dowry on her premium. Bautista had offered money and more money. He kept raising the "ante" and so far no man had been "man enough" to make it to first base with Kathryn.
Petruchio was not the type to bandy around with words. He asked the old boy, "If I marry your Kathryn, what's in it fer me?" Kate's Pop was shocked at such a direct approach but he might not get another chance so he didn't make no fuss, he just said, "20,000 crowns." Now 20,000 of anything is a lot and the crown was their type of money. With all that settled Bautista went to tell Kate about Petruchio who was there to do his courting.
Petruchio knew about Kate's reputation and the high dowry confirmed that he was going to work for his money. Right here he had himself a soliloquy. A soliloquy is when you don't have anybody to talk to so you talk to yourself out loud. Those old writers used that a lot when the storyline bogged down and they were afraid you would miss something.
He made his plans on how he is going to get Kate won over. Well Kathryn hit the door fuming, fussing and screaming. Petruchio smiling like a 'possum eating prickly pears bragged on her sweet gentle spirit. He laid it on thick and by gory it worked. Kate kind of took a shine to this guy. He needed a bath and a shave but he had some
spunk and didn't break and run like every local sissy did. They haggled a bit and she stewed about wanting more time to prepare for a wedding. Petruchio told Bautista he didn't have time for lolly gagging, he had to get to work.
On Sunday morning Bautista was to be standing on the church steps with Kate in one hand and twenty thousand crowns in the other, then they would get it over and done. This strange, demanding son-in-law to be jumped on his horse and high tailed it out of town leaving Kate and her Pa to arrange the biggest wedding the town had ever seen.
Sunday morning came and Petruchio didn't. Sunday afternoon found some mighty unhappy people sitting on the church steps. Kathryn was sure the whole town took a holiday to watch her get jilted. She was about ready to skin somebody and she was not particular about who it would be. She did have some thoughts about a Petruchio hide being nailed to the church doors. Late Sunday afternoon Petruchio came dragging in with dirt on his clothes, liquor on his breath and two rundown sway backed horses. He did not have a single present for his new bride. With road dust from the feather in his hat to his "holey" boots, he insisted he did not have time to wash his hands and face before the wedding.
During the ceremony he burped, blew his nose and walked on the priest's feet. As soon as the padre said, "you may kiss the bride", Petruchio took a peck at her, missed, grabbed Kate, his twenty-thousand crowns and headed for the horses. Bautista tottered behind babbling about the wedding party and free eats. Petruchio insisted he had work to do. He and his twenty thousand crowns climbed on one horse that looked half dead and the local boys scurried to get Kate on the horse that looked the other half so she would not be left behind. Before Kate knew what happened they were plumb out of the city. It was almost dark and she had not eaten since breakfast. She was atop a dying horse going she didn't know where or how far with a man she had only met once. Do you think you have got problems?
The worn out nags stumbled through the darkness and Petruchio cussed, beat and threatened the animals with every fate a horse wouldn't like. He insisted the horses were shaming him in front of his new bride. Kate was getting a might nervous. To be honest when you are tired, hungry and your resistance is running low it is easy to get down right scared.
Finally they came to a "ratty" little castle. It had definitely seen better days. The moat had moss thick enough to walk on if something didn't jump out of it and grab you. The dirt on the floors was deep enough to grow a crop. Dishes and furniture were battered and broken. Dogs, pigs and chickens ran across the floors. The servants were nastier than the animals.
Petruchio was without doubt the boss. Everybody cowered and kowtowed in his presence. Was he a beggar prince, a bandit king or an axe murderer? Her imagination ran wild. He took her to a bedroom with only a large bed and a small chair. He ordered a meal and when it came, screamed it was unfit for his bride, threw it on the filthy floor and boxed the ears of the servant. In rage he stomped the bed into kindling because it was unfit. After he left, Kate sat in the tiny chair with only his apologies for supper and cried herself to sleep.
Her groom kept this up for days. Kate thought she would die for the want of food and sleep. Things finally did calm down a bit but the slightest comment about food or service would throw him into a new rage and it would start again. The tailor, the hat maker and carpenter all suffered Petruchio's wrath. Even on a trip to Padua, to visit her family, he decided the road was not good enough for his bride and they returned to the castle.
As weeks turned into months, Kathryn took to eliminating the problems in the household. From the towers to the cellars everything was swept, mopped, scrubbed and polished. Even the servants bathed, shaved and put on fresh clothes once a week. Inspired by his surroundings Petruchio paid better attention to his personal hygiene. With the dowry he was able to turn his castle and estate back into a profitable business, something it had not seen in his generation. Kate and her crew got so good at keeping the castle running clean and smooth he had trouble finding something to rant about.
Petruchio thought it was time for her final test. He pointed to the sun, "that is the moon." She agreed, "that is the moon." He pointed to a dog and said, "that is a cat." She nodded in agreement. With a smile and a kiss on the cheek he gave her a letter from her Pa. The letter gave news of Bianca's coming wedding to a young gentleman named Lucento. In a world of bliss a reformed Kate and a changed Petruchio made the trip to Padua with horses, clothes and baggage befitting their station.
At the wedding party Lucento and his buddy, Hortensio, bragged about their beautiful obedient wives and pitied Petruchio stuck with Kathryn the shrew. Petruchio wanted to crack some heads over that slur on his wife but that could create hard feelings with the in-laws. He jingled a bag of coins and told the brash boys to put their money where their mouth was. Everybody in the room wanted a piece of the action and side bets got bigger.
Lucento sent for his bride. Only the messenger came back, she was busy. Everybody had a good laugh except Lucento. Hortensio sent for his wife and the answer was, "he could come to her." There was another good giggle at the husband's expense. Petruchio sent a message to Kathryn, "bring the two wives." She did! He told her to lecture the ladies about being good wives in front of all present. She did!
While she lectured, he ran his fingers through his clean trim beard. Pulling the bags of coins a little closer he glanced at his fine clothes and shiny boots. He had changed Kate and she had changed him. She was no longer Kathryn the shrew. She was now Kathryn the finest wife and the finest lady in the room.
The date was a wedding in Nashville, Tennessee and the honeymoon included a week's worth of tickets for two to the top country western shows. With three hundred miles to go and twenty-four hours to make it life could not have looked better. I was tooling along, happy as a lark, and a front wheel decided it wanted to go in another direction. There is nothing like decelerating from sixty to zero within a hundred feet to put spice in your life and stains in your underwear.
The car behind me veered to the right and into the ditch. The look on his face was anything but cordial as his car bumped and skidded past stopping a few hundred feet ahead. He pulled onto the shoulder of the road, put it in reverse and backed in closer.
The "Hulk" got out of that car. He was at least six feet four inches and three hundred pounds. "Got a problem Mac," said the gravel like voice. I could only hang out the window and point to where the wheel used to be as my jaw worked up and down soundlessly. He opened the door, grabbed my by the shoulders and swung me out like a sack of beans. My Jaw was still silent but my brain was preparing to meet my maker. "Youse had a hellava fright. Stand up and walk a little, it'll help." He was a nice guy after all. Before he drove away I used his mobile phone to call a wrecker.
The wrecker driver was a kid in greasy jeans that probably got his start in mechanics stealing hubcaps but he got me and the car into town to the only garage. The garage man was as grim and greedy as an undertaker. His estimate took on page after page and looked like a recap of the Defense Department budget including four new hubcaps. The biggest problem was something called a "spindle." It had to come from Detroit and the car would not be ready for a week. I really think spindle is a mechanics code word for "spend a bundle." I told Bob, (are all mechanics named Bob), I had to make it to a wedding and would be back for the car after the honeymoon.
There was a bus depot across the street and there I ordered an express ticket to Nashville. The clerk, with a big Adam's apple and a bigger nose, informed me there were no express buses and I would have to change coaches three times in two hundred miles. The few telephone numbers I remembered went unanswered. As an alternative a telegram went to the church.
"CAR BROKE STOP
NASHVILLE BUS STATION 6AM STOP BUD"
At the first stop outside of town a little Spanish fellow got on and sat behind the driver. No sooner were we back on the highway than he jumped up and pulled out a gun. It was one of those tiny chrome automatics that looks like a cigarette lighter. He rattled of something in Spanish then said slowly with emphasis, "take me to Cuba." The driver started a long explanation about five hundred miles to the Florida coast and ninety miles across the ocean and buses didn't sail or swim. Our hijacker cut him off, "No comprende Inglish, take me to Cuba."
I have to admit the driver was a cool dude. He kept right on shifting gears and messing with controls on the dashboard. In the process he locked open the microphone on his two way radio. The two men kept up their one sided conversations and in about an hour there was a long line of police cars silently following the bus. No two matched every police agency within a hundred miles must have sent a representative. Pancho, Juan or whoever, seeing them in the mirror, motioned for the door to be opened. He leaned out to take a few pot shots with his popgun.
Women screamed, men cussed and prayed. I tell you it was a hell of a show from the back of the bus. On a sharp swerve the bus hit a grand daddy of potholes and Pancho flew out the door, landing end over teakettle in the ditch. The bump blew a front tire and for the second time that day I expected to be a highway statistic. As I said, our driver was a jewel among men. He missed everything on and along the highway and brought us to a stop with the right parts still on the ground.
The police had Pancho wadded up like a Kleenex and handcuffs everywhere but around his throat. Passengers were interviewed, signed their statements and listened to war stories from dozens of cops. At last the extra police cars gave us a ride into the next town. Only the wildest stretch of the imagination could classify Pflugerville as a town, no buses, trains or taxis. This was the first excitement this place had seen since the civil war.
A policeman's brother was a commercial fisherman and could take me thirty miles upriver to Madison, a big city, Ha, for a price. From the pseudo-police station I wired. "BUS BROKE STOP
TAKING BOAT STOP
WATCH FOR NEXT WIRE STOP BUD"
One of the mysteries of modern civilization is "how does a man make a living fishing from a fourteen foot pirogue." Silas was not about to reveal any secrets. Neither his dress or demeanor made any indication he was making a living. For the first ten miles the engine died. With a few minutes of tinkering and profanity he would have it running again. The last twenty miles was at full throttle with the bow three feet out of the water and my stomach churning as loudly as the engine. When we crossed a small wave or wake the boat left the water, the engine raced on and we hit the surface with a "splat." All of my internal organs screamed for mercy.
The Madison marina speed limit sign of five miles per hour flashed by and Silas pulled back on the throttle. Nothing happened. He was clawing at the engine to stop it. The channel was getting shorter. People on the docks screamed, waved and jumped in all directions. I jumped too as the pirogue entered the port side of a forty foot yacht.
I was ignored completely as everybody ran for the yacht. They probably wanted a share from the wine cellar. Climbing a ladder I "sloshed" across the dock and faded into the downtown area. There was a blast of train horn in the distance and I headed in that direction. I got ready for my last leg of the trip with a ticket and a telegram.
"LOST BOAT STOP TAKING TRAIN STOP
TRACK THREE NOON STOP
HAVE EVERYTHING READY STOP BUD"
The Blue Ridge Eagle ran like a fine Swiss watch for seventy-five years. Fifty of those years it moved daily rail passengers and was never late. The past twenty-five years it moved tourists over a four hour long scenic route from Madison to Nashville during the spring and summer months followed by a four-hour return trip. I should get a well deserved four-hour nap and make it to Nashville with two hours to spare. This was the only train with a perfect record for seventy-five years. It never occurred to me that I would be present for a historic first.
Shaman was a title yet this man held the title for so long no one remembered his real name. From the eldest of the villagers bits and pieces can be gathered. Shaman's father was Taloc, the shaman. Shaman was a son of his old age.
Before the Sun Festival a shaman fasts for seven days.
During the seven days of the festival the fast continues and the shaman receives the words of the spirits. At that festival so long ago, Taloc sat receiving the words and on the twelfth day of died. The last two days the young Shaman received and spoke the words. Those who seek counsel with the Sun festival spirits may still sit with Shaman. Quietly step into the hut and sit. In his trance Shaman talks almost continuously, when the question you have yet to ask is answered, you may quietly leave. Only in rare instances do the spirits reprimand a petitioner and a little more often they test his patience.
As a student of Central American paleontology and a true friend to the tribal elders I was allowed to attend the Sun Festival and sit with Shaman. Science and my studies create more questions than they answer. An open mind may find the path to many answers, though not all may be proved in a test tube. Those who only peer into the test tube will see many dead ends. A dozen people with inquisitive hearts sat on the earthen floor and Shaman in a monotone droned on sometimes changing languages to reach the petitioner.
In the beginning there was a war between Good and Evil. Evilone in an attempt to weaken Good tried to smother the hearth fire with earth cutting off heat. In his hatred Evilone did not understand he would be weakened also. During the conflict the sweat of the warriors fell to the earth and soaked into the ground. Within these drops were the seeds for man, beasts and plants.
Without warmth Good and Evil fought until they grew tired and cold. They went to sleep and slept many seasons. The earth was covered with ice, such as mountaintops are today. There was no warmth on the skin of the earth. The hearth fire of the gods was deep within the earth and its warmth incubated man and beasts.
Good was the first to awaken. Without the interference of Evilone, Good took the form of SunGod. He was then so powerful Evilone could never defeat him. SunGod was not only protected by his new power but imprisoned by it. Any energy expended opposing Evilone will weaken him as SunGod.
SunGod looked with compassion on the men and beasts that formed during his sleep. By warming the earth and making the new beings strong they could resist Evilone. While SunGod warmed the earth and made it beautiful Evilone stalked the earth to spread his hatred and greed.
As the earth warmed and the ice retreated, man and beast emerged from their deep, protecting caves and holes finding comfort in the warmth and light. At their death man and beast are once more one with the earth ready to come from the earth into the light. Bones stained red and laying in the earth signifies, "these bones have borne blood upon the earth and wait to walk and bear blood again. The time within the earth was not a good life. There was nothing to eat but men and beasts. Eat or be eaten. To eat was to live. As the ice went away plants sprang forth upon the earth. There were seeds, berries and plants to eat. With more things to eat there was less chance of being eaten. Life under SunGod was good. Suddenly Shaman changed stories.
Ugh tried to remember having a clan as he looked for grubs among the rocks. He was always trying to remember having a clan. Some clans would let him stay for a few days or weeks but at the first sight of shortages or petty jealousy they chased him away with sticks and clubs. More than one scar proved they were serious about his absence. His memory drifted to the better days.
Then Ugh found Him and Her, that was three winters ago. They were in their prime and content to be clanless. Him offered to teach Ugh to fight and hunt and Ugh had sneered in derision. He had fought and hunted all his life. Yet, Their method was different. All the clans scratched the soil and beat the bushes for a day's food, fighting for productive areas. Him and Her were different. Him trapped and snared food instead of chasing it. They put seeds and roots into ground and in the summer gathered enough to make it an easy winter.
In the clans a good spear was a status symbol and its man was revered. Him had many. He had a bow and arrow, the arrow reached small game easily, far better than throwing sticks. Her made pots of hand worked clay, a skill unknown in the clans. Their cave was inaccessible and easy to defend. Two clans found that it costs their raiding parties dearly. Clans can take many wounds but deaths discourage them greatly.
Greatest of all Him could make fire, there was no begging and bargaining among the clans when he needed fire. With special stones only Him understood he could make the seeds of fire and these seeds he nourished into a blaze. All this he was teaching to Ugh when IT came. IT was as tall as two men, and rare, hopefully the last of its kind. IT walks on two legs like men. Each short front leg has four horrendous claws. Their slash could cut a man into three pieces. The gaping mouth can chew and swallow each piece. IT caught Her first; Him was taken defending Her. Surely, there was little left to defend.
Ugh had been away setting traps and returned to read the signs and gather the bones in the manner of the clans. He dried and stained the bones red and reverently placed them in the cave. Painting his face with the blood of the victims he vowed vengeance, IT would die or Ugh would die.
Ugh looked into the chasm, the slightest misstep on the log
would toss him to a sure death on the distant rocks. "What a joy it would be to dash IT on those rocks. IT would never care to cross the narrow log."
As he stepped off on the far side he sat on the ground and pictured IT, in his mind, running at full speed and stopping just short of the log. "If the path was wide and grassy could IT be fooled? Him had made shallow pits covered with leaves, which animals fell into and were caught. What would make the log look wide and grassy? Not far away are long reeds and vines, would they work? " Ugh sat with the pictures in his mind for hours.
"IT is a traveler, he appears well after winter has passed, hunts for a day or a week and leaves. Just before winter he comes again and stays no longer. In his wake is left large animals slaughtered and quaking clans. They consider IT the Evilone of old legends and offer sacrifices of the old and weak. IT eats and anything that eats. IT eats to live. The Evilone does not die. IT could not be Evilone."
Ugh straddled the log bridge. Reaching below with a long reed pole and a vine he tied the pole across like wings. Five of these he tied to the bridge. On top of the wings he laid many long thin poles parallel to the log and covered the frame with the largest of fronds. The fronds he sprinkled generously with small leaves and dead grass. Tufts of tall grass he pulled up with roots and sod and placed a few as though they grew along the side of the log. Admiring his work, he thought the land bridge looked very real. In a few days small animals had taken advantage of the bridge and made tiny trails across it. Ugh crossed the log and made repairs as necessary.
Daily Ugh checked his traps, using the prey he would scatter a fresh blood trail to the bridge. The sight and smell of blood excites every hunter, man and animal. After laying a new blood trail, he crossed the bridge, climbed the steep trail, and lay on his cave floor watching the bridge. He worried, was it too late, had IT moved on in his journey? Suddenly IT appeared near the far side of the bridge. IT stood studying the scene carefully, could there be some doubt?
Ugh jumped up, scampered and slid down the path. Little more than the length of the bridge separated them. Standing at his full height Ugh waved and grunted challenges. Picking up a stone it and throwing with a vengeance, it harmlessly bounced the massive chest. Still, IT stood and watched. Ugh carefully moved to the center of the bridge and turned his back to IT. Bending forward and raising his loincloth he forced a gust of air, the ultimate human insult.
IT was unmoved. Ugh, in confusion, started to the safe side. Fleeing prey IT understood and lunged forward. The bridge crashed beneath Ugh's feet. In the blink of an eye he saw IT tumbling into the chasm. His mind screamed, "Victory" but wondered "who will stain my bones" as he started his descent.
I stepped into the light my eyes blurred and legs weak from sitting long hours in Shaman's hut. Here are answers to some questions about the distant past. My colleagues and our sponsoring foundation would scoff at each and every one. Nothing could be proven in a test tube.
Minnie meets Tony
Minnie leaned against the door, trying to use her body to shield the child, in her small arms, from the icy blast of wind. Giving to her weight, the door reluctantly eased open. Slipping inside and down the steps she gave one last shiver as her eyes adjusted to the light level of the dim hall. The boiler room was massive. Dust and mismatched paint indicated where worktables and cabinets had lined the walls. Near her, the largest boiler, idle, was the size of a semi-trailer. Two smaller ones also lay idle. The smallest, the size of a small car droned like the rumble of far away surf.
Near it a man slept in a ragged chaisse lounge, part of it propped up by a wooden box. Minnie would have been tempted to nap in the hallway but she knew the little one was still cold. He was asleep but squirmed and snuggled seeking more warmth. She tiptoed to the backside of the boilers. Behind the little boiler, near a pile of bottles, she and the babe lay on the warm cement floor and drifted into a blissful slumber.
The crash of another bottle into the pile woke Minnie with a start.
"Kid, what the hell you doing here?"
"My brother, Joni, and I were looking for a warm place."
The old man sneered, "I live and work here, get out."
Minnie stood her ground. "If you lived or worked here the building upstairs wouldn't be empty and you would have more than that broken chair."
"Look Kid, go find your own basement. This one's mine."
"My name is not kid, it is Minnie. If I knew yours we could make a deal."
"My name is Tony and my deal is no deal, get out."
"Tony, we all, want to stay warm and you have a warm basement. We all have to eat, I have been in the street long enough to know how to get food but I don't know how to make a basement warm. I could hustle for myself in the cold but Joni has to be kept warm. I can't keep him warm in doorways and dumpsters."
"Where's your family Minnie?"
"Daddy's dead, shot in a dice game. I heard the police tell our landlady my Momma's in jail and me and Joni were going to separate family shelters, so I ran. Adults only have two ways to solve problems, kill somebody or lock 'em up."
"I've got to agree with you kid-er-Minnie some adults are kinda narrow in their decision making ability."
As they talked Joni got up and with shaky steps walked to the pile of broken bottles, mumbling, "pretty, pretty." He picked up a glittering shard with the words still pouring forth.
Moving quickly, Tony took the glass and touched the sharp point lightly against, Joni's finger. Showing Joni the drop of blood Tony said, "pretty bites," and threw the shard into the pile with a crash. Joni ran to his sister, proud of his drop of blood, "pretty bites, pretty bites."
Shella and Rajah
Tony could hear gigging voices on the stairway. Silently shook his head. Hollering and cursing would do no good. Minnie would still bring new rag-a-muffin friends to the no-longer secret den. It would be only a matter of time.
The children skipped across the floor their arms full. "Tony this is Shella and Rajah. They are brother and sister. Their mother works nights, cleaning buildings. We have a picnic. I have burgers, Shella has chips and Rajah has soda pop. There is plenty for everybody. Joni say, hello to Shella and Rajah."
The little boy plopped amid the bags and started digging. Tony smiled to himself, only a few days ago drinking soda pop would have been out of the question.
While they ate Minnie chattered. "I swept the floors at Binky's for their leftover burgers. They" nodding to her companions, "collected and sold cans and bottles to get their share." Shella added, "and Mr. Tony made a warm place."
"It's better than a picnic on a park bench in December," Rajah agreed.
Tony suggested, "don't forget the other fast food places, pizza, tacos, fried chicken. Always offer to work for the leftovers. Kids are hard to turn down when they are really in need. I brought in a refrigerator today. In a day or so I'll have it running. Then we can make our food last a little longer and keep milk for Joni and anybody else that has growing bones."
Tony asked the new guests. "What about where you live, is it warm?"
Shella shrugged, "It is never like this. We have to sleep with our clothes on to keep warm."
Rajah nodded, "momma stuffs wet newspapers in the cracks to keep out the wind."
Tony said, "this place had some drafts but I found most of them before winter came.
Shella brightened. "Mr. Tony could you fix our place. I mean make it warm and make momma's cook stove work. She's a good cook when it works."
Rajah chimed in, "and hot water, like at school. We wash at school because hot water feels better that cold water."
Tony shook his head sadly. "Look kids, I could make your apartment better but it would take boards, putty and paint, somebody has to buy that. I need your mother's permission. The super and building owner must agree and the city has to issue a permit to do the work even if I do the work free. Those are the rules."
Shella frowned, "which is more important a good place to live or a bunch of rules?"
Minnie blurted, "If you don't obey the rules somebody could get shot or locked up."
Tony shrugged his shoulders, "kinda."
Everyone stopped eating except Joni. The picnic had lost its joy. Rajah whispered in Shella's ear and she responded aloud. "Can we take what's left to Mrs. Diego in our building? She is in a wheel chair and can't get down stairs to the store."
Tony nodded, "sure, it's all yours."
Somberly Shella and Rajah gathered their bags and started up the steps. Tony wished Minnie and Joni would take a walk; he needed a drink. Somehow it didn't taste the same with all the kids under foot.
Minnie meets Daniel
Minnie studied the figure under the newspapers on the park bench. "Hey mister, want a hamburger?"
Two eyes peeped out of the clutter. "Are you the friendly neighborhood hamburger peddler?"
"I'm not peddling, I'll give it to you free."
"Didn't you mother tell you not to talk to strangers, Kid?"
"My name is Minnie and if you tell me your name we won't be strangers."
With a rustle of papers he sat up and pulled his coat a little closer. "I'm Daniel but there is no free lunch. What is in this for you?"
A little hand pulled a burger from the bag and held it to him.
"I'm curious about you. That fancy suit is dirty but there are no holes or patches on it. You haven't been in the street too long. Most people prefer to sleep under papers they like to read and not many choose the Wall Street Journal."
Daniel took the sandwich. "Hop up here kid, on the down wind side, I'll be your wind break. I can't believe how observant you are. You would make a good Sherlock Holmes. Sure, I made good money in the stock market but I outlived my usefulness and they threw me out. With money I had friends and family without money I have nothing. Life is like that, you get what you can pay for and at the moment I can't pay for anything. Employees give bosses presents hoping for a raise. Bosses leverage raises and benefits to increase production. Everybody wants a return on their investment."
Minnie crossed her arms resolutely. "Not everybody! I take care of my little brother and he has nothing to give me back. People smile and put change in the Christmas kettles. They get nothing for that. I see fights and drug deals too but not everybody is greedy. Sometime people help each other and sometimes the help is a little one sided. Maybe you have not watched the right people. I share a basement with a fella named Tony. We could share with you too. If you have something to share fine, if not that's all right too. Sometimes I get leftover burgers when the store closes. Sometimes Tony gets a little money for fixing things. I'll bet while we walk we could see people willing to share without asking anything in return."
She hopped off the bench and tugged on Daniel's hand. He shrugged his shoulders and arose thinking, "even a few minutes in a warm place would help." As the two disappeared into the darkness snowflakes began to flutter around them.
Daniel meets Tony
As Minnie and Daniel came off the steps Tony was stretched out in the chair with Joni in his lap. Tony moved the boy quickly to the floor and bounded from the chair. "Minnie who the hell are you going to bring here next, the city building inspector?"
The question was rhetorical, he did not wait for an answer. "I had a nice thing going here until you moved in. Now you have paraded all the kids in the city through here and when you run outta kids you start dragging in the grown bums. At least when somebody blows the whistle we won't get thrown in the cold street. We'll get put in a warm jail. Kid, I've stayed outta jail for over sixty years and I'm not anxious to break that habit."
Tony stopped for a breath. Waving Minnie aside Daniel
stepped forward. "You could only be, Tony, the genius. Minnie talks about you constantly. Truly I doubted anybody could be as good as she said. If you are, I'd be proud to shake your hand. The name is Daniel Flynt." The flattery had the desired effect. Confused, Tony extended a hand. Daniel continued gently, "I have a flask in my coat. It's not much but I'd be elated to share with a man of your caliber." Raising his voice, "The two of us could step around the premises and you could show me how you have wrought those miracles. I've always been a pencil man myself but fascinated at what a knowledgeable man can do with a few simple hand tools."
As they started around the room, Daniel handed Tony a small, nearly empty bottle and Tony was caught as surely as any fish. Tony bubbled, "hand tools keep the world going around. I've always prided myself in buying the best. Power tools are nice and they save labor but they often have their limits. Hand tools never need an extension cord or recharging. They work in places power tools won't reach. I started out at seventeen in the generator plant changing light bulbs. Forty hours a week prowling the catwalks with a ladder and a crate of bulbs. The last place was One Main Tower, I had ten years there. Then they added all those lights and the building controls went high tech. Everything in the building is now controlled by computer. It was outta my league and I was too old to go to school for a Double E. Nobody else wanted me because I was too old. Paint, putty, plumbing, I know it all. I'm a fair hand at any thing that's got a wire running to it. Over here is where the electric meters would normally bring in power--." Daniel looked over his shoulder and gave Minnie a wink.
Tony's Rounds
Tony entered the neighborhood grocery. "Mr. Holveck, did the transformer for your sign come in yet."
"Sure did Tony. It was the last thing that came through the door before closing yesterday. I can't believe it was under twenty dollars. That contractor bid a hundred and fifty dollars to repair my sign. Are you sure this will fix it?"
"I have no doubt. Black and Company is a big outfit with a big overhead, two dozen trucks, about fifty employees, a warehouse and office. I remember when Bill started with one run down truck and a helper. He is honest, good and big. That combination is expensive. Now take me, nobody can have lower overhead than I do." Tony took the part and went to the attic.
On his return he was wiping his hands on his pants. "Like I said Mr. Holveck, ten dollars for my part. If any body asks, you did it yourself. The wires are color-coded; just match the colors. Remember what I said about the sign letters. Its just age. They may last a year or five years, it's hard to tell but when they go bad it's back to big bucks. That takes a glass bender not an electrician."
"Sure Tony I understand, I'll watch for you when I need something else." Tony pocketed the money, buttoned his coat and stepped into the icy wind. Tony walked up the steps and entered the brownstone. He shook his head at the decay thinking, "paint, sheet rock, electrical, plumbing, it could keep a man busy for a lifetime." He knocked on the door of the third floor flat. The young woman had a ragged, terry housecoat over jeans and flannel shirt. Sleep still gave a pucker to her eyes.
"Mrs. Stewart, my name is Tony Dante. I am a friend of Shella and Rajah, I hope I didn't wake you."
She yawned, "That's all right its time for me to getup anyhow. The kids will be home soon. Tony? You must be the one they call Tony the fixer. I'm Wilma."
"Yes ma'am, that's me I guess. The kids told me you had some maintenance problems and I thought maybe I could help."
Her eyes widened, "I'm sorry the kids bothered you, I can't afford a repairman."
"No ma'am, I said they were my friends. I'll do what I can for them--not for money."
"Thank you Mr. Dante."
"It's Tony everybody calls me Tony. What about the apartment heat?"
"It's a steam radiator, it gets hot about midnight and goes off about six a.m. It works but not long enough to keep the place warm."
"I figured that, either the super or the owner is trying to save a few bucks at your expense. What about the cook stove?"
"It's gas and just stopped working. I bought a hot plate at the pawnshop for five dollars. I'm sure that was cheaper than a repair bill."
"Wilma let me check the stove, maybe it's only an adjustment." Tony puttered with the knobs and burners for a minute and eased the stove from the wall. "Here's your problem, Wilma. The cutting board fell behind the stove and kinked the gas line." With an effort Tony pulled out the heavy, dusty board.
Wilma smiled, "that was a wedding present from where I work. I wondered what happened to it. After the stove stopped working I didn't need it much."
Tony turned off the gas and pushed the stove to the wall. "I'll have to replace that line."
Her smile faded.
"Let me prowl the neighborhood and find something that will work. We all have to keep expenses down. If I find something I'll drop by this time tomorrow and put it on."
Wilma smiled again, "thanks."
In the hardware store Tony stepped to the counter. "What's tax, title and license on a four foot piece of five/eighths copper tubing with flared pipe fittings."
The clerk thumbed through the pages of a thick volume.
"That'll be a total of nine dollars and ninety eight cents."
Tony shrugged his shoulders, and dug for his ten-dollar bill, "I'll take one."
Tony had just finished the stove repairs and pushed it against the wall. With a flick of a match, two burners flamed and he passed his hands over them. The heat felt good. Bending over the oven, he made it sputter to life.
Wilma was grateful but confused. "How could that pipe be a piece of junk, it was so shiny."
With his usual shrug, "maybe it hasn't been junk very long. Oxidation, that dingy color, takes a long time. On the worst days you and the kids make pallets in the kitchen and drape a blanket over the doorway. Heat rises to the ceiling, trade your hot plate for a small fan and hang it up blowing straight down or at a steep angle. It pushes the hot air back down where you are. Turn off the stove before the radiator comes on, you will want to save on your gas bill too. If the kids go to bed early and get up before six, they'll have hot water to bathe."
Wilma turned, the heaving shoulder left no doubt she was crying. Suddenly Tony felt awkward and wished he were some place else with no other problem than getting a bottle empty. "I gotta go."
"Please Tony, since my husband left I've had no one but the kids. I need someone now."
"Sorry kid, I'm flattered, but I'm and old man. Get yourself a young dude."
Wilma turned to him and giggled through her tears, "not that. I need someone to talk to. Please sit down and listen. Seven years ago my husband, Ben, went to California to look for a job. I know he spent a year getting there. The postmarks on the letters moved west slow and steady. He walked, hitchhiked and odd jobbed. Two or three times he even sent a few dollars. Then one letter came from California and for six years not a word. Rajah does not even remember having a daddy. Shella wouldn't know him if she saw him. I've tried to hold it together but it steadily gets worse. Thank you Tony, fixing my stove was a godsend. It is the nicest thing that has happened in seven years. My grandmother came from India and loved to cook. She taught all her grand daughters native cookery. I hope I can make some Indian dishes for you. Chapatti is a native bread and I know some fantastic fillings for it."
Tony was squirming in his seat. "Look kid, I can sympathize with you we all have our hard luck story but you will make it. When you are treading water, what's under you doesn't matter just keep you chin above the top. I gotta go, something else needs fixing."
Tony didn't have any more work to do but needed to get away from Wilma. He had already spent all his money on her and the kids and felt guilty he could not do more. As he passed the second floor landing he heard a faint call for help and a knocking sound. Dropping off on two he wandered down the hall. At number two twenty six the call and knock were unmistakable. The door was ajar and he pushed it open. The wheel chair had toppled backward when the wheel fell off its axle. The wrinkled old lady looked as if she was a hundred years old. She was strapped in with a leather belt and her nightgown tangled in a front wheel held her legs high. With her right hand she pounded on the floor with a cane.
"It's about time somebody came. What is your name young man."
Tony smiled at being called a young man, "Tony ma'am."
"You have a last name I suppose."
"Yes ma'am, Dante, Tony Dante."
"Tony, I'm Mabel Diego. Now that we've been properly introduced get me the hell off this floor. It's cold down here."
Tony untangled the gown and pivoted the chair upright. Mabel unbuckled, stood with the help of the cane, tottered three steps to a dining chair and eased down to the seat. Pointing to the chair, "can you put my hotrod back together."
"Yes ma'am, if I find all the parts."
"They were there to start with. They are just scattered in the floor. Get down there and look." While Tony was on his hands and knees, Mabel prattled.
"My body may be going down hill but my mind is as sharp as ever. The tongue can be too if the need arises. I know you are thinking Mabel is not a Spanish name. My maiden name was Scharwtz. I married a Cuban, one of those hot-blooded Latins. What a glorious time it was. We imported Cuban cigars even when it was illegal. You can't imagine the thrill of outrunning Cuban gunboats, pirates and Coast Guard cutters. Paulo never lost a cargo to anybody. He knew when it was time to slow down and we opened the cigar store. Later, the local hoodlums tried to extort protection money. First they beat him up. It took two young thugs to whip a sixty-year old man. When he got out of the hospital, they came to the store again cursing and acting tough.
Paulo whipped out a shotgun and iced 'em on the spot. I was right there and scared to death. Paulo stepped over the bodies, walked to the door and stood on the step for the world to see. As he reloaded the gun he hollered, NEXT. God, I was proud of him, what a man he was. The cowards got us back. The gang put a bomb in the store mailbox. It took the store and Paulo but I was still proud of him. The mailbox made it a federal case and the FBI moved in. In a few months they broke that syndicate. That was twenty years ago and I am sure other hoods have moved in to replace them."
Tony nodded, " I was in town then, I remember a cigar store bombing. Several new gangs work the streets. The business now is drugs not extortion. Have you got some paint or nail polish? It will make this nut stay on longer."
Daniel and Tony Plan
Tony and Daniel were alone for the first time. Tony had his coat and tools, ready to go but Daniel wanted to talk. "Tony can I understand your apprehension. Somebody is going to notice the traffic down here."
"Yeah, I tell Minnie all the time not to bring anybody here but she don't listen."
"Don't fault the girl, her judgment has been impeccable not a soul has been a troublemaker. All have been down on their luck but willing to work or share. Like I said I've always been a pencil man. I've got a list of our guests and some of their strong points. How about Wilkins? She is good with kids. She can keep them entertained.
"How is a baby sitter down here going to help?"
"Not down here Tony, in the street. Many kids don't make it to school, either distracted or hassled along the way. What if Wilkins made a trip through the neighborhood attracting youngsters, ending at school, on time and a reverse trip in the afternoon."
"A kinda walking school bus," Tony interjected.
"Exactly, now we need a family willing to give her a place to sleep. During the day she could hustle for herself or the family.
"How about the Smith girl, her dad works four to midnight and there ain't no mother."
"Excellent Tony, that gives two people and alternative to hanging out here. How about that Mexican boy, Raul, are there any Spanish families he could help?
"Old lady Diego, she is white but married a Cuban and speaks Spanish. You ought to meet that old gal. She is a trip. She's wheel chair bound but sharp as a tack."
"How about the three buildings across the street? Is there anybody we could farm out there?"
"Flynt, scratch those off your list. All three have people doing drugs. Those places are instant heartburn."
"Consider them scratched. How about Minnie?"
"Hell, I'd hate to get rid of her and Joni, they're kinda like family?"
"She needs a better life as much as anybody but that is not what I meant. Let's talk to Minnie about the lists. She knows the street better that we do. She was running the streets before her mom went to jail. By the way, why was she locked up?"
"Shoplifting I heard. I agree Minnie is sharper than any kid here and some adults."
"While you are hustling a fixit job or two I will talk to Wilkins, if she is willing I will find the eminent Mr. Smith.”
"Dan, you sure talk fancy for a bum. If people think you're a social worker, they may not be as cooperative. I'll catch Mrs. Diego between jobs."
Minnie meets Galen
For three nights there had been a sprinkling of snow. The days were warm enough to melt it and the nights would refreeze it. The result was patches of ice everywhere. "Binky Burgers" has closed with no surplus but Minnie had made two dollars, that day, spreading salt on the ice. She did not spend her money. Tony was better at stretching a dollar. He always seemed to know of new bargains.
With her ears bound in a scarf and her hands deep in the pockets of here thin jacket, Minnie started home. The basement was not home like living with momma but it was warm and there was usually something to eat. As she threaded her way among the ice patches she would take a few quick steps and slide across the longer patches. Any ten year old likes to play ice skate.
At one corner the slope of the sidewalk was deceptive and she found herself angling to the gutter and an old man crouched over a trashcan. He had only time to raise his head before Minnie, man and can rolled into the frozen gutter. Immediately she grabbed her ankle and started whimpering in pain. The hobo scooped her under his arm like a shopping bag and started up the steps of the nearest brownstone. Going through the front door h sat Minnie on the steps of the dingy stairway and plopped beside her coughing and panting. Amid his gasping he said, "sorry, to many cigarettes. I sure wish I had another one. I'll check your foot."
As his fit subsided he removed her shoe and sock. With surprising care her ran his fingers from her calf to the toes. "You have stretched the Achilles tendon." Putting a finger on one spot, Minnie jumped at the stab of pain. "Don't walk on it for twenty four hours. It will be sore for seventy two hours after that." He replaced the sock and shoe gently.
Minnie wiped tears from her eyes. "You don't look like a doctor."
"I'm not a doctor anymore but sometimes I act like one. Old habits are hard to break."
"I thought doctors were doctors forever and too rich to poke around in trash cans."
He smiled, "Doctors are like cars they are licensed and when the license is gone they can't be used anymore."
"Did your license expire?"
"Sort of." He looked around. "We're out of the cold wind and nobody is telling us to move along so I'll try to explain. What is your name?"
"Minnie."
He began, "Minnie, I came from a family of doctors. In fact my parents named me, Galen before I was born, he was a doctor a long, long time ago. Where I worked as a doctor there was a problem. I got blamed for it and I couldn't prove it was not my fault, so they took my license. My family is kinda snobby and an ex-doctor is an embarrassment. They would prefer I was not around them. Where do you live?"
"The Reagan Building."
"That rat trap was condemned years ago. There is a court battle over who is supposed to tear it down."
Minnie smiled, "my friend, Tony fixed the basement so it works. We live there and sometimes other homeless people come in with what they have to offer. It's kinda like a rescue mission only nobody preaches. Everybody there pools what they have and sometime there's leftovers for the needy."
"You find people more needy than the homeless."
"Some people in the tenements have a place to stay but nothing to eat. We try to match the homeless that can hustle meals with the needy in the cold water flats. Sometimes the people in the flats get welfare but can't go to the store."
"Yeah Minnie, I can understand many problems of the needy. As a doctor I did a lot of volunteer work. To much volunteer work, if I had paid more attention to my real job maybe I wouldn't have gotten in trouble. The organizations that sponsored the volunteer work wouldn't talk to me after I lost my license. They were afraid I would stain their reputations. Look, hop up a couple of steps and get on my back. I'll drop you off at the Reagan building with your friends and be on my way." Minnie climbed on, with a little effort Galen rose to his feet and they headed into the cold street. There were frequent stops on building steps so Galen could cough and catch his breath.
As Galen came down the steps bearing Minnie, Tony hardly looked up from his task. From a box of "Cheerios" he was popping the tidbits into Joni's mouth one at a time. Minnie tried to talk fast, "Tony this is Galen. I fell and hurt my ankle and he carried me home."
Before she could utter another word the door at the top of the stairs slammed. A teenage boy came down the steps, two at a time and rattled in obvious excitement. Tony thundered, IN ENGLISH DAMMIT and scared Joni.
"Meesus Dee-ay-go ees seek."
Minnie explained, as Galen gently sat her on the floor. "Raul is from Mexico, he helps Mrs. Diego."
"She is a shut-in," interjected Tony.
Galen turned and spoke slowly, "Raul, por mi, en espanol, dispacio, por favor."
Raul caught his breath and began his explanation. Galen interrupted several times with halting questions. Then to Tony and Minnie, "this does not sound good, I'm going with Raul and the two started up the steps."
As Tony tried to calm Joni, he asked, "what the hell can that guy do?"
Minnie answered proudly, "Galen is a doctor."
Galen mumbled over his shoulder, "Was a doctor."
Tony grinned, "Bums from Wall Street, bi-lingual hobo doctors, kid you've got more surprises than Santy Claus."
Galen Returns
As Tony stepped off the stairs Galen was stretched out on the lounge. Tony tiptoed across the room and reaching behind the refrigerator braced himself with a stiff drink. Galen coughed, " you wouldn't happen to have a cigarette back there would you?"
"No, but you can have a shot of this."
"I'd rather abuse my lungs than my liver thank you."
"Doc, how's the old lady?"
"Not good, now it's fifty-fifty. I called an ambulance and rode with her to the hospital. There I saw a couple of young interns I know and they let me stay in her room for three days. Every machine the hospital can spare is hooked to her. I almost lost her several times but due to the generosity of my young colleagues I was able to do the right thing at the right time. They even sought my counsel on a couple of other cases. I'm not sure if interns are less prepared or illness is more complex than when I was that age. Raul should be at her flat. I threatened him with immigration to keep him there. If someone will bring him here I'll talk to him. We don't want him to panic and get himself caught. When you don't know what to do for a sick person you feel helpless. But, when you know what to do and can't, it tears your heart out. Maybe I will take that drink."
Tony turned to hand Galen the bottle but he was asleep. He polished the bottle off and quietly added it to the pile.
Daniel seeks help
Daniel stared into Morgan's dry cleaner window and wished its traffic would slack for a few minutes. A steady stream of customers had paraded in and out for the past forty-five minutes. At the first break he stepped in his head down and his mind blank. He had never begged before and this was difficult.
"Er-ah-aa--."
The manager raised his hands, "is this another stick up?"
Daniel blushed, "not at all, I was hoping we could strike a bargain advantageous to both. I was hoping to exchange some labor, maybe your sidewalks and windows for cleaning and pressing my suit."
Smiling in relief the man lowered his hands. "I'm Morgan, the Morgan on the Window. What is your name?"
"I'm Flynt, Daniel Flynt."
"Well Mr. Flynt do you need a clean suit to look for a job?"
"Yes-er-no-er, I mean I will seek steady employment but first I will solicit help for some needy friends. I need to look like a solicitor not a beggar. At some buildings I could not get through the front door looking like this."
Morgan laughed, "I was dreading shoveling that sidewalk, you passed the shovel at the front door. When you're done I'll have rags and Windex ready for the windows."
The last scoops of snow were agony for Daniel. He had done no manual labor since his college days, forty years ago. He giggled as he leaned on his shovel, "a master's degree in economics and thirty years on Wall Street all to shovel snow."
Stepping inside he replaced the shovel and took the rags and spray from Morgan. Taking a deep breath he stepped to the window. With the first stretch he could feel his muscles screaming obscenities. He muttered under his breath, "tomorrow is going to be worse. If I survive this, I'm going to get in better shape."
Morgan took the rags, "in the back of the store you will find a john. Put your suit by the door, your shirt too. I don't have a wet-wash but I can make it look better. There is a razor in there, feel free to get rid of that stubble."
Daniel finally emerged from the restroom. Morgan whistled under his breath, "You could pass for the CEO of a Fortune 500 company or a diplomat. Who are you turning on the charm for?"
"During my tenure in the neighborhood I have met some neighbors and homeless that are quite deserving. I will prevail on residents of Wall Street's ivory towers to provide, shall we say, a little trickle down. The urchins you see in the street hustle all day and then share their crumbs and pennies with those even less fortunate. Some of these youngsters deserve more that a free bowl of soup at the nearest rescue mission."
Daniel walked into the office of Willingham, Wyman and Wiley. "Sally, tell George I need fifteen minutes." She hit the intercom. "Mr. Wiley, Mr. Flynt asks for fifteen minutes of your time."
"If it's Flynt the bum, I'm busy."
"No sir, this looks like the former Mr. Flynt."
"George, you owe me one," called Daniel.
"Sally, show Mr. Flynt in."
Daniel nodded, "Sally, I know the way."
Daniel walked into the luxurious office. A few nights he would have been thrilled to sleep on something as thick as this carpet. Wiley was on his feet. "I'm sorry Daniel but I've heard some viscous rumors since you left the exchange. I first wouldn't believe them but they came from such reliable sources. If you had come to me when it first happened I could have found a place for you somewhere down the line. I have not forgotten your sage counsel saved my ass once. But you appear above what the rumors claimed."
Daniel started, "Well, George when it happened pride kept me from seeking help among my peers. Sometimes pride can hurt as well as help. I still have no position but at the moment that is not my primary concern. While taking this post graduate course in humility I have met some disadvantaged children and adults and am seeking help for them."
Wiley reached for his checkbook. "Sure Daniel, how much, three hundred, five hundred, you name it?"
"No George, I want more."
Wiley swallowed hard and whispered, "one thousand?"
"George it goes beyond money. That was my problem; there was no problem I couldn't throw money at. I need arms filled with packages and sympathetic ears. The packages only solve one problem. The arms and ears may give these people the boost they need. I've seen two dozen street people meet in a condemned basement to pool their pennies to help a hundred. They are under manned, under funded and threatened because they are unlicensed for welfare work. The end of this ad hoc organization is inevitable because they have to break too many rules to get their job done. With a little help they can go out with a bang. When they are scattered to the four winds each one can be a seed to try it again in another place.
"All right, all right, Daniel I'll help but I can't afford to be Santa Claus for the entire city. What is my part in this?"
"George, I want your endorsement when I hit every office in this building. With Willingham, Wyman and Wiley behind me everybody will participate. Every company will donate and employees get the option of donating or being a Santa's helper. We have less than a week to pull this off. We need memos, collections, work assignments and purchasing." Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a sheaf of a dozen pages. "Here are the lists, clothes, toys and household items. Throw in food, anything with a good shelf life and easy to prepare. These people can be lovable but they are not wizards in the kitchen. On the twenty-third I will give you the address. It will eliminate the chance of interference."
"OK, OK, Daniel after Christmas will you please go to work for me? God, you're good."
Three days later Daniel entered the mailroom. Not expecting good news. "Sally in Wylie's office said I could get an update in the third basement mailroom. Has this collection been relegated to a boiler room operation?"
"Not exactly, I'm Simpson your collection coordinator. Normally, I’m the senior clerk down here. This is the only floor with sufficient storage space for this project. You sure stirred up a hornet’s nest upstairs. Every floor has a coordinator and there was so much enthusiasm we had to go to a seniority system. We meet every day in the Ryan Corporation seminar room, at five thirty, with attendance at about ninety percent. That's just the coordinators. There is always at least a dozen there because they anticipate being a Santa's helper. When it is time for the move we will have a dozen vans and pickups committed. Nobody knows exactly who it is for or how it will be pulled off. They do know, to play Santa Claus it has to be secret to beat the system. Beating the system is the biggest thrill of all. The more mystery you put in it the bigger time they will have."
"Will they move after midnight, Simpson?"
"I'm sure of it."
"I'll be here it midnight tomorrow. It will take about six hours to sort at the destination and less than six hours to distribute. I supply the guides to get your people finished before noon on Christmas Eve."
"Yes sir, "we'll be loaded and ready to roll at midnight."
Breaking the News
Daniel surveyed the old basement; furnishings had increased. In addition to the lounge and refrigerator, there was a park bench, church pew, a broken recliner and a half a dozen sorted lawn chairs, some not broken. Tony was on his lounge with his chin on his chest while Joni lolled under the pew, fiddling with a broken toy. Minnie lay curled in the recliner, whimpering. The gloom stifled the room.
"Tony, what has happened?"
"Mrs. Diego didn't make it. Raul was there and made such a scene hospital security turned him over to the police. Immigration has him now."
"Where is Galen?"
"With the Costas. She is in labor and has her babies at home. This one is the seventh. It should be no problem."
Daniel walked to the pew and took a seat; it was closest to Tony. "This is a bad time to talk about parties but the wheels are in motion. We both agree our time here is limited. This weekend will destroy our chances of staying here but we will move on knowing a lot of people had a better Christmas. Tomorrow after midnight, I will lead in a dozen trucks filled with presents and I don't know how many helpers. We will sort and distribute for those people camping in the river bottom, under the toll way bridge and the neighborhood tenements. We need twelve or fifteen guides to get the drivers to the right places. Guides capable of forestalling any interruptions that might occur in the streets. These elves are going to stand out like a hobo in line for the opera. Also we need all the help we can get for sorting and bagging.
Minnie spoke for the first time. "Our friends die and go to jail. Then we throw a party and have to move out into the cold. That doesn't sound like a fun Christmas.
The Party
Daniel was in the leading van followed by twenty-five vehicles. A block from the Reagan building they turned off their headlights and eased down the street at a snail's pace. The gate of the construction fence had been unbolted and lay beside the fence. The caravan turned and tiptoed into the pitted parking lot. Tony had managed to open a freight door and each truck took a turn at disgorging its contents in the basement. With the last truck empty a giant canvas covered the doorway.
Inside was a bedlam. George Wiley and his neighbor Sam were in tuxedos; just coming form the opera. They were barking orders to the Wall Street helpers. Galen was on the lounge puffing two cigarettes and waiting for the first medical emergency. Tony and Daniel quietly gave directions to the neighborhood helpers. Even three Santas were roving in the crowd. They did no particular work but their Ho-Hos added to the spirit of the occasion. There were plenty of lists and in spite of the look of confusion bags filled with incredible speed.
"Mr.Flynt, Mr.Flynt." The ragged voice belonged to a giant in a ruffled overcoat and golf cap on a bald head. He had two men in tow and they looked like children in his fists.
Daniel turned. "I see you gentlemen have attracted the attention of Crusher Cooper, our Director of Security. What is the problem?"
"Boss, these dudes had cameras and recorders under their coats. Do I break them up or just the equipment?"
"Call off your goon. We're Hogan and Scott of Channel Nine, we have a right to cover this story."
Cooper grunted, "I have a right too and now it's wrapped around your neck. If your mother didn't teach you manners, I will. That is Mr. Flynt."
Daniel rubbed his chin, "Hmmmm--, a little attention may not hurt. Here are the stipulations. We just happen to be in violation of a city ordinance or two for a worthy cause. There will be no pictures or names of anyone without their express, written permission. You will not release the story before six P.M. Christmas day. By then this building will be empty again. You are welcome to emphasize the plight of the homeless or disadvantaged and their willingness to help others."
"Ok, Mr. Flynt, it's your party."
"Mr. Cooper, release your grip but stay close to them in case their memories lapse."
"Sure Boss."
Hogan sneered but Scott was all smiles. "I remember you, Crusher. My grandmother was a wrestling fan. The only time she ever cussed was when you wrestled--, and they disappeared into the crowd."
The first truck was about to load. When the canvas tarp raised there was a screech of whistles and police poured through the door."PO-LEECE, FREEZE."
Men cursed, women screamed. Daniel thought, "not only dreams come true, so do nightmares."
Chief Blocker swaggered through the big door with the bravado of a storm trooper. He surveyed the cowering mob until he came to one face. Sam stepped forward.
"Blocker you idiot. What the hell are you doing?"
"Ma-Ma-Mayor Wilson, our undercover agent reported the street people were planning something big. Fearing riot or insurrection--"
"Insurrection, are they going to supply rebels with Barbie dolls and Pork'n beans?"
"But Mayor, breaking and entering, criminal trespass, there are at least a dozen city ordinances in violation."
"Come to my office Monday morning and we will discuss the proper course of action to solve this problem. Until then send your boys home and tell them to spend a Merry Christmas with their families, understood?"
"Yes sir."
The Party's Over
The last of the presents were loaded and gone. Neighborhood helpers had shared the left over gifts and filtered away. The last of the Wall Street helpers were putting on their coats.
"Who is the doctor?"
"I was," Galen waved a cigarette.
I'm John Curry of Ryan Corporation. We have a hospital in Brazil. It's supposed to be a tax write off but actually the natives it serves are working for us. Keeping them healthy makes us money. The place is quite isolated and there would be no quibbling about your license. You would have full privileges and responsibilities, if you are interested."
"It would be a pleasure, Mr. Curry. I have been feeling the urge to learn a new language. They say Portuguese is a snap if you know a little Spanish."
Sam stepped forward again. "I have your Christmas present Tony. The city and the Salvation Army are planning a joint project. The city will increase pressure on the slumlords to improve their property. Private enterprise will donate material and Salvation Army will provide labor. We need a knowledgeable crew chief to be the one paid employee. It would be a training program and you would be the trainer. The quality of training and speed of progress would be at your discretion."
"I don't know what to say, Mr. Mayor."
"Say, you will stay close to the Salvation Army. We know you have the expertise. You have had one weakness in the past and everybody will be watching you. The program has enemies as well as friends. The program's success or failure will be in your hands. Tony quietly nodded in assent.
Sam sat on the park bench and picked up Joni who was fascinated by the black bow tie. Sam continued, "Minnie I didn't understand your plight until this morning. I'm sure I can speed up the release of your mother. The city sponsors many work programs maybe one of them will find a place for her."
"What about my friend Raul?"
Sam shook his head, "every Santa Claus, and even the wise men had their limits." Raul is welcome to legally migrate to America and our fair city but he has to do it by the rules. Remember rules make things possible, sometimes. Speaking of rules, school is out for Christmas vacation now but if your mother does not have you in school on January second the welfare people will be looking for you again. Where will you stay now?"
"With Mrs. Stewart in the tenements."
Sam winked, "The first flat Tony's crew fixes is yours."
Chubby Prince Howard, as any prince would, lolled in luxury. Since the day of his birth, eighteen years before, footmen, porters stewards, maids and nurses have been at his command. He was lavished with fruits, juices, pastries, clothing and toys by attendants, in hope his wastes and castaways would could shared by the needy souls of the palace grounds. Such ornate attention is the curse of the ruling class they tend to forget or never learn, "The lap of luxury sits on the backs of the poor. To maintain its balance that lap should give those backs a degree of security." Like many of his class, the prince, understood the power of his position. Like many, he had no personal successes to build confidence and self esteem.
His mother and father used the term "How" as a term of endearment. The servants made it a term of derision. "How did that brat get to be a prince? How is he going to become a good king? How will he survive when the envelope of fantasy in the palace opens and a world of reality takes him by the throat?"
Someday that envelope will open because of the political parties eating at the soul of the impoverished people. The trouble starts at the top with the "Royalty." The royal family was hardly more royal than a family. It is a group of vaguely related individuals scattered throughout the land. All were willing to stab each other in the back or anybody else, to gain a better position. They collect onerous taxes and return a trickle to popular programs.
Leopold is the younger brother of the king. Two brothers between them have died. One by a snake bite in his bed, the other supposedly killed by a disgruntled servant. At least, the servant was executed for the crime. Leopold was moved to an administrative post in another part of the kingdom. After he left, Prince How's older brother died in a fall from the parapets. Only the King and How stand between him and the throne.
Civil Service, below the royal administrators, seeks to perpetuate themselves at anybody's expense. Taxes, bribery and graft make their retirement secure if they live that long. Their challenge is "steal, save, survive and retire where it's safe." Lord Cicero is the head of the civil service. He is the kingdom's consummate organizer. His people have developed a complex system of training and record keeping. Any civil servant is expected to answer any question falling under his domain yet they know little about lateral parts of the system or kingdom.
The military is always a faction seeking control. In the martial mind discipline solves all problems. With their love for authority, rank and seniority they have one advantage over the royalist, the army does have discipline. General Ram is the leader of the military. He is a man of dubious birth but dauntless courage and skill. Being a man interested only in results, he believes discipline will solve every problem from famine to athlete’s foot.
Money, organization and manpower are in possession of such groups. Such a power could control a world or such greed could destroy an individual or a kingdom.
The Clergy represented a half-hearted effort at unity. Each church defended its area and its oppressed congregation. With the burden of taxes, tithes were light. The church staff and its capabilities limited. Limited funds made churches narrow-minded not only financially but theologically. Not only their people but their god was on a tight budget. Fedelio was the person closest to being a leader in the religious areas. As head of the church encompassing the palace and surrounding town, he saw the wealth and waste of the palace. Yet he understood the want in his poorer congregation. He was raised in the rural countryside but intelligence and insight moved him through the kingdom and to the palace church. His progress acquainted him with all aspects of religion and philosophy in the kingdom. He had no administrative power over the narrow mindedness of other churches, which respected his judgment as an administrator but believed him overly optimistic. He instilled discipline in his churches as a moral obligation instead of by intimidation.
The Merchant Class was financially better off than the laboring class. They had one great advantage, an eye for independence and security. They moved through the countryside often seeing pockets of prosperity before the tax collector found them. Merchants understood the use of money and could easily spot its waste. Traveling they were the common peoples substitute for mass communication. Cache is a merchant of the highest degree, traveling the kingdom with only luggage yet in every town he makes arrangements for sales, purchases and shipments of nonperishable commodities, from jewels to cloth. His agents in the towns form a vast network, which is aware of what the kingdom needs and where it is available. The honesty and accountability of his people make them the most trusted group as a whole.
Educators are not wealthy as a group, being dependent on the generosity of their patrons. They possess the knowledge of what had been done in the past and the theory of what could be done in the future. Many are just theorist, uninterested in practical application. A fanaticism for theory is the trait that drives a good teacher. Static is the tutor of Prince How, representing the highest achievements of the educators. Teaching brings a steady income and his spare time is devoted to science and philosophy. As most educators he believes learning is a personal challenge of and individual. He has no time for sharing with other educators and passes on to his students only what he feels they can absorb. All students at some point decide they have learned enough and move on to other pursuits. Scattered among the educators is enough knowledge in the sciences to make a significant difference in the condition of the country. With their only interest advancing knowledge not applying it, this shortsightedness leaves knowledge is on the brink of stagnation.
It was long remembered as the Day of Christ Followed by the Night of Death. The Christmas Day was celebrated in the usual fashion with gifts, food and drinking, much drinking. Men and women staggered to bed happy and many of those men did not see the next rising of the sun. The ones to die were those men totally committed to the King. Dozens of assassins, mostly soldiers, ranged through the place. Leopold, Ram and Lord Cicero dispatched the King and Queen in their sleeping stupor. The Queen was the only woman to die, the other women were inconsequential to politics. Lord Cicero needed a little help getting a knife into her. He was a good administrator but a little weak in handling serious politics. When the three men exited the royal chamber; that was the signal for the carnage to start. Soldiers, servants and nobles, in general, those whose loyalties were certain or in doubt, fell to the fate of the blade. The palace, the church and the town was covered ruthlessly. Throughout the night Leopold cursed as word came to him, "There is no sign of Fedelio, the priest, or Prince How." Static, the tutor, was undisturbed because everyone knew his allegiance was to his books and bottles.
Leopold came as a Christmas guest but he would stay as a King with or without the death of the heir. There would be time later to take care of that detail. The following morning the proclamation was given. "There was a successful conspiracy to kill the Royal couple. Ninety-eight, conspirators were discovered and executed. Prince How is missing. Leopold will rule as regent during the ninety days of morning and a new king will be crowned. Leopold will be assisted by the devoted counselors General Ram and Lord Cicero."
The second day following the Night of Blood, the sun arose to find the Palace's north gate surrounded by more that a thousand living bodies all heavily cloaked and armed. Some bows, spears and swords were apparent, most arms were shovels, hoes and scythes. The few soldiers atop the wall eyed the quiet, cloaked and hooded army. Farm tools borne by a strong arms are wicked weapons. The palace garrison was out numbered by five to one. The servants were not to be depended on for help. The fact was, half had disappeared after learning of the carnage.
Leopold sent Cicero to the north wall to parlay with the mystery mob. Ram would accompany him but was only to direct the soldiers if they were needed. This was a time of peace and the army was scattered through the kingdom involved in training, police and garrison duties.
Ram knew, "Leopold should have let me bring in more soldiers to celebrate Christmas in the palace. But no, avoid suspicion this is just a family spending holidays together. This family get together will fall apart with out the discipline a few sturdy soldiers could bring." As Cicero approached the parapet the cloaked and silent peasantry parted to allow three horses to pass. The horses reined at a comfortable distance and the cloaked riders dropped their hoods. They were Fedelio, Static and Prince How.
Cicero gasped, "My Prince, do you conspire with those who murder your family? Why? The throne would have been yours someday. Could you not wait?"
How answered, "I conspire only to stay alive, having no desire for the throne now or ever. It appears the existence of myself and my family is an inconvenience to-er-someone. The good teacher, Static, schooled me in the theory of politics. Since I have no experience in practical application, I have placed myself in the hands of those I know who are most trustworthy. Having been in their hands two days and still live. The choice seems to have been practical. A hundred under your care have not been so lucky. Leopold has a right to the throne, I have a greater right to that cursed seat as the direct heir. Leopold's counselors and mine need to come to terms for the good of the kingdom."
Cicero inquired, "Fedelio, what are these terms you have deluded our young prince into."
Fedelio was the soul of confidence. "Our young prince has seen the facts and made his own decisions. As for terms the populace finds you last proclamation unacceptable, that Leopold should rule alone until the coronation. They demand, yourself, Static and I form, let us say a committee to assure that our laws and traditions remain intact until the coronation."
Ram could contain himself no longer. He leaped to the wall, his beard bristling like the hackles of a guard dog. With Cicero's hand on his shoulder he regained some degree of composure. "The populace demands this! Come right in and we will discuss the details of popular demand."
Sorry, General Ram but as flies are cautious of spider webs, so we would feel insecure within your walls. It would be better if we met like this each morning. Our discussions and decisions would be open to the public. No proclamations would be necessary. Admittedly it may be a minor inconvenience to us personally but in difficult times all are called on for sacrifices."
Ram was still puffing in anger. "What if were to refuse your ridiculous demands. A troop of Calvary could make buzzard bait out of your rag tag mob."
Static intervened, "General to gather your scattered forces, equip them to meet a force this size and move them here under the best conditions would take ninety days making them two days late. Fourteen weeks would be more practical. Sufficient foot soldiers would take thirty days longer. All this assuming any of your messengers could slip through the pickets we have around the castle. We already have made alternative arrangements for incoming messengers as well as the ones you dispatched last night and this morning. For a sample of other powers we have available, have someone enter my castle chamber. They will not have to look for anything in particular on entry it will be quite evident."
Eyeing each other, the duo on the wall nodded a signal and six soldiers broke into a trot for Static's chambers in the east tower. From the tower came the unmistakable thud of a battering ram. There was a muffled explosion and the screams of dying men followed. A pair of flaming legs exited the tower and collapsed on the parapet. His screams scraped across the ears and down the spines of horrified onlookers. Black and acid smoke billowed from all tower windows. Static continued, "If theory serves me well at least two floors will need extensive repairs. General you have six new openings in your meager garrison staff. I believe you should consult with Leopold when he arrives shortly full of questions. May I remind you gentlemen, over the past fifteen years as the prince's tutor, I have been everywhere in that castle, probably even in your own chambers. That power could be anywhere. Until tomorrow, Gentlemen."
The three horses turned and the silent army opened and let them pass and disappear back into the woods. The remaining cloaks broke into groups and dispersed to encircle the castle, at a generous distance. Groups nearest gates or roads made their bows and arrows obvious. Many in the groups assumed leisure positions but weapons were within easy reach. Some of the cloaks faded into the landscape and in an hour it impossible to ascertain the exact number maintaining guard for the siege.
While the shifting of forces occurred outside the walls; the tall lank frame of Leopold hit the parapet with a stride that was almost a run. His entourage being short legged ran and stumbled on each other in order to maintain their official positions around him. He cursed their clumsiness with, hopefully, idle threats of whippings and hangings. The sight of Cicero and Ram brought forth a new volley of curses. Cicero, reshaken by his lord's hostility was ready to blurt out a long list of excuses. Ram was calmer under fire. "Sire, circumstances have changed considerably in the past few minutes. If we may retire to a private chamber, we need to reassess our strategies. Preferably a chamber, to which Static, the tutor, has had little or no access."
As the three men occupied the royal bedchamber, where their revolution began, Leopold listened to his two aides as they constantly interrupted each other. He had a dozen questions, which they could not answer and he muttered curses to himself for not personally going to the wall to observe and handle the situation. Both men were excellent in their fields but suffered from narrow insight. To anyone wanting to reach the top that is a grave handicap.
Ram stood at a relaxed attention arms folded in an air of confidence. He punctuated statements with a finger pointing at the floor or ceiling. Cicero paced wringing his hands, all was not going to plan. There were no standard rules and procedures on which to depend. Instability gnawed at his soul like a beaver at a tree. He longed to be a step or two farther down the ladder so he could merely point out rules and regulations laid down by others. His mind raced, "being at the top is so-so unstable. Maybe it would be a good time for my coach and a trusted servant or two to disappear, I do hate traveling alone."
"Cicero," screamed Leopold, "Stand still! If you are not still I will have Ram tie you to a bed post. Stop running like a mouse searching for a breadcrumb. Now, Static's threat of power is a bluff. It is not magic it is alchemy. Just as he puts his powders and potions on little sticks, which he call matches, for the servants to make fires. He has plainly made a fire trap in his chamber either anticipating us or as one of many silly little experiments. Ram interjected, "I would pay a ransom for that silly little experiment. It would be invaluable in combat. The fear of fire is the greatest deterrent to troops."
Leopold continued, "I know your troops have done nothing but sit and quiver since Static's demonstration. I want a thorough search of the castle, today and into the night if necessary, from the lowest cell in the dungeon to the parapets of every tower. If anything is found, which I doubt; like packages, potions or objects of doubtful origin have it dropped into the moat. Ram, make sure your witless idiots dispose of nothing valuable to us. Also Ram, after midnight, I want four of your best scouts over the wall in five-minute intervals. If any one is captured he is to raise as much hell as possible, any distraction will help the others. Summon some small light Calvary detachments, they could at least harass our besiegers and make them less comfortable. Dispatch three or four men over the wall to bring back a prisoner from our ring of hosts. Cicero, have your men initiate a strict inventory and ration program. Tomorrow we will see what other surprises your fellow committee members have in store.
In the woods, Static was morose. "Fedelio, you cannot comprehend the loss in my chambers. That was the most difficult challenge I ever faced, the total destruction of my life’s work. Fifteen years of experiments and records, everything I could offer as an aid to the young Prince gone in a white flash and a black cloud. When I began incinerating rats in wooden boxes I never dreamed I would destroy my own life with fire. Having nothing else to offer I will leave you two to work out your destinies."
Fedelio was taken aback, would his coalition fall apart this quickly. "No my friend, that bag of parlor tricks you burned in the castle will leave a scar in the mind of every person, possibly except Leopold, in the castle. They will assail his every explanation with doubt. But your most valuable asset is still here, your head. Until Leopold has that little item, our possibilities are limitless. When we spirited away the prince I knew Leopold possessing the castle would be to his advantage. The fear you have instilled in his people has cut his advantage dramatically.
Have you heard of the merchant, Cache?"
"Of course, He does most of his business in town but to protect his investment he makes social calls in the castle dropping a few trinkets here and there to solidify his contacts. I've heard him discussing a wide range of subjects but never had the time to find out if he is as good an intellectual as businessman."
Fedelio countered, "he is, believe me, I have known him for years. His eyes and ears miss nothing and he has a mind to exploit them all. He would not be your equal in the sciences and philosophies but neither am I. For years he and I have talked, while you and others work alone and leave your discoveries buried in notebooks. Are you familiar with the University of Alexandria?"
"Every learned man has heard of that third-fourth century fantasy. Research for research's sake, nonsense, the expense would be prohibitive. No one wants science unless it turns a profit."
"Ha, old friend, all references along the Nile were destroyed but Cache has been to Rome, Athens even Agra in India there he found references to the wonders generated in Alexandria. The University was more complex than merely running barefoot through theories. It existed as a learning center. Not only men learned to teach but carpenters and smiths learned their trades there. The teachers experimented with ideas. The students experimented with designs and the smiths built it. When it worked they sold it to merchants and the merchants returned wanting to buy more. Does it sound logical now."
"It is still a dream. The initial expense could buy a kingdom. A return on the investment may not come for years."
"Come Static, "All too true but hear me out. We do not have available the riches of Egypt, so a modest beginning would be in order. Three or four able teachers selected not only for their intellect but for flexibility, which is a less common trait among them. A dozen motivated young minds with backgrounds to enable them to work with advanced ideas. Any work could be handled buy local wrights and smiths until classes for the trades are established. The laborers are even willing to work in their spare time and wait until the ideas sell to collect wages, showing how much weight the word of Cache carries with the trades. The first ideas would be those that are surely profitable. One a cash flow is established it would support riskier projects.”
"I suppose you and Cache have already chosen the teachers for your little school and they have no choice in their companions."
"Well, we have discussed some possibilities. We have a list of what we consider the top ten men with specialties in alchemy, mathematics and so on. Each man will be presented with a list of the ten and may select three he would like to work with in this endeavor. By some determination four will be selected first and then others may be brought in later as the program expands. Initially we need a diversity of talent and a oneness of purpose."
A gleam in Static's was evidence he was impressed. "My, my you have thought of everything. How will you select the first teachers? And, what is in this for you? I know well enough Cache is a man with an eye on profit. He considers this a sure success, that is the only place he puts his money."
"Selection, that was our easiest decision. Here is the list, select the three companions you want and in five days they will be sitting around your table. You are too hard on Cache, he has made some sacrifices for the welfare of the kingdom, but then again he does have the talent for helping people and making a profit too. I wish more churches were blessed with that talent. Somehow the more they help, the more it costs. Myself, I'm a minister. My only desire is peace and prosperity for my flock. Under the thumb of leaches like Leopold and Cicero they will have neither. If the church could afford to sponsor the University I would hang upside down from the steeple for attention and donations. Now the church, all of them, can't even feed their own poor. The naked and hungry are not receptive to the gospel. Now see, old man you have me preaching. I'll get your soul later. The first priority is your mind. As soon as you can get a list, for Cache, of what you need to replace what you lost in your chamber, his people will gather it for us. We need more of your firetraps and you will find that those who join you will bring their bags of tricks. The University's first challenge is to overcome Leopold.”
In the castle, Ram and Cicero entered the throne room as Leopold nibbled from a breakfast tray. "Sire, the three scouts, who went over the wall for a prisoner were pulled from the moat." Ram saluted.
"Excellent, Did they have a prisoner or a good report?"
"No Sire, all they had were slit throats. Of the four messengers, he have no idea if any made it through the lines. If we are going to last this siege we need to be more conservative with our forces. At this rate we will not have a ninety day supply."
"Damnit Ram, I personally will slit the throat of every person in this castle if it gains me the crown."
"Sire, I understand your sentiment. I am merely trying to inject a little more logic. We three alone cannot defeat the kingdom or the mob outside. By sending men to their deaths every day the remaining soldiers may desert or rise in rebellion. It is agreed nothing is so important as placing the crown on your head, but when it is there, you will need as many living taxpayers as possible to make your reign profitable."
"Of course Ram, I am distracted by the heavy responsibilities of state. Were the messages worded as I instructed?"
"Yes Sire, as many Calvary troops as possible to harass the besiegers! Death to any civilian outside the castle walls for a distance of five miles! One thousand gold coins each for the heads of Fedelio, Static and the young Prince! Not only will every cutthroat bandit in the realm be after the trio, we may have foot soldiers deserting their posts and stealing horses to get here."
"That is my sincerest desire, Ram. Any soldier arriving here to help will receive a full pardon for any past crimes including murder. Cicero, what is the latest from your fellow committee members?"
"Sire, they request a usual coronation, except, there are to be no weapons ceremonial or otherwise. Every position in the rites and castle are to be occupied by two people, representing each faction. These two will search each other when joining and any additional searches will be mutual. And of course, they insist the crown go to the Prince as the direct heir."
"Cicero, prepare indictments on the trio. Signed confessions by deceased accomplices even well rehearsed confessions from a pair of live prisoners. We will have trials, executions and a coronation all in one day. Ram, your men will have weapons hidden near enough to be used if necessary. Do not show all your men. Have some reserves hidden away in civilian cloaks. They will replace any outsider they can eliminate or at least filter into the crowd. Coronation day, the reward on those heads will be five thousand gold coins. That day at sundown every faithful man will get a purse of one hundred coins. Get with your people and work out the details. Have everything ready even if we get assistance from the outside. Only the deaths of the trio would make this unnecessary. You have eleven weeks and cannot afford a single mistake."
In the woods the Prince was unhappy. "This is exactly why I don't want the crown. We sleep in a different bed each night. We are not sure who to trust. Let Leopold have the crown and the worry of who will stab him in his sleep."
Fedelio countered, "How would you make a living? You have no trade or a purse to put a coin in if you had one."
"I can read and write three languages. I could teach. I know all about science. Static has always said I'm smart."
Static shook his lowering head, Lad-er-a- Prince, you can read and write a few words in three languages. You could not conjugate a Latin verb on your best day. You know the names of all the elements but their properties still mystify you. You have no natural curiosity. With that gift in ten years you would make a excellent teacher. True you are capable of learning when you see it is easier than not learning. You have intellectual and physical potentials but there is no ambition to exploit them."
"Prince, you were born to rule. If you had a deep concern for the citizens of the realm and a few honest counselors you would rule better that your father, who kept the kingdom in peace and poverty for twenty years."
"Static you told me of the ancient Greeks, who elected their own leaders. Why am I singled out by fate to bear this responsibility?"
"King or Senior Administrator, the title is unimportant if the welfare of those being ruled is the ultimate goal. The Greeks system evolved over a period of time as a result of free men wanting a government, which could maintain that freedom. Your subjects do not understand freedom in that same context. They understand, they are born to a certain station in life and want their ruler to assure the do not lose that station. They cannot conceive of having the freedom to rise above that station. When some one like Fedelio rises above humble beginnings, they attribute it to fate, politics or factors, which humble men cannot control. At this time our people must chose between Leopold and yourself. If they choose him, at best life will stay the shameful same. By choosing you there is a possibility life could improve. Whomever is chosen, the loser not only loses the crown but his life. As long as you both live you will be threats to the reign of the one in command. If you win now and permit him to live you will just fight him again when he regains his support. In the event Leopold succeeds and you retire to a rural or foreign existence, some patriot will champion the cause in your name. By eliminating you he eliminates that possibility. There are only two possibilities for you, live as a reigning King or die a fallen prince."
"I have no wish to die but as I perceive you gentlemen, you would assure that I will not be a tyrant. How will you do that?"
Static continued, "You know your letters and ciphers well enough to get by, though, I do hope when this is over you will set aside some royal time to extend your knowledge. For instance if you were conversant in more foreign languages, heads of state would be more impressed in your negotiations. Translators in highly intricate negotiations would be less likely to make er-errors for their personal gain. Even small degrees of efficiency in the arts and sciences would let you know when counselors are carried more by enthusiasm or influence than by fact. There will be time enough for all that when the crown is securely on your head. In the mean time Fedelio and I have discussed a more pressing aspect of your education."
Fedelio stepped forward, "Your life in the castle with servants has made your need for self discipline less demanding. It also, has isolated you from the everyday problems of your subjects. The lowest of servants in the castle are in a better situation that many in the realm. For a while you will travel with the merchant, Cache, as his apprentice with the new name of Ward.
"Me travel with one man and having a reward on my head."
"Your new name and position will be your protection. No one will know your true identity except Cache, Static and I. We have already spread rumors of your departure, to cross the border at a dozen places. While the borders are watched Cache and his apprentice, Ward, will roam the kingdom doing business as usual. Believe me I have seen Cache in action. Should there be an incident, he will be worth several ordinary guards. If he were not satisfied to be a merchant he could easily be a body guard or an assassin."
We suspect some messengers may have eluded our pickets. If this is true we can expect a not too well organized harassment by forces loyal to Leopold's purse. Cache is expected during the night. You both will leave before daylight. We will not keep track of you. You will be entirely in his hands. Through his sources he will follow events here and any changes will be dispatched through his network of traders."
"Prince, you will be in an apprenticeship for the coming weeks. I can only beg you to heed Cache's every word. You may pick up pointers on trading but that will be incidental. His goal will be to teach the first points we discussed. Your Kingdom has no greater authority on self discipline, the economy and the plight of the people than Cache."
Cache and his new apprentice spent all the next day on horses. This was Ward's first full day in the saddle and the muscles and skin of his lower half were feeling the effects of the new experience. Near dark they stopped at a roadside inn, forty miles from the castle. In the stable Cache dismissed the local groom with a small tip and informed Ward he was about to groom his first horse. Immediately Ward objected. "I've been in the saddle all day. I'm sore. I'm tired. I'm hungry. The inn pays that groom to groom. Call him back to do his job."
"Ward lad, many of the laboring classes are not highly motivated and that keeps them in the laboring class. These horses are important to us and our missi-er-livelihood. When we brush them or check them for sores, split hooves, sore mouth and feed them, we are taking care of our own welfare. The groom, Knot,lost his wife, in the spring, has a sick daughter and a son always rebelling against any authority. He is far more concerned with his own welfare that with ours."
"Cache, if he did his job better wouldn't he get more gratuities and maybe more pay from the innkeeper?"
Lad, remember the times are hard gratuities are few. The innkeeper is strapped with expenses also. He had a better groom but the man moved on to work in one of the royal stables. Probably, he works for less money but regular meals, one of the benefits of civil service. His wife and children have first options at part time and full time work. Such amenities make strong ties to the system. Among the Army, Royal households and administrators half the population of the kingdom is in civil service with lower taxes and free meals. Often amenities are taken which are not authorized, amenities like bribes and thefts.
"Well, you have been doing your homework on the kingdom, What do you suggest I-er I mean the new King eliminate, the benefits?"
"Just for the sport of it let us suppose and you can keep brushing while your are supposing. Some extra benefits attract workers. From those attracted, choose the best.
1. Pay equal to free trade and commerce
2. Pay to cover job related travel and food
3. Medical assistance, Army surgeons, in peacetime could do more than sew up soldiers after drunken brawls.
Personally, I feel the lower tax rate together with other benefits is great a burden on the crown."
"This just pays the workers. The workers must actually work, as much work as would be expected in free trade and commerce. Integrate the royal line into the civil administration. Every one actively involved in collection, accounting and sensible redistribution of revenues. Ship building, road building, castles and cathedrals all need intelligent men to supervise their construction. They need not dirty their hands, just make sure the dirty hands are efficient."
Ward chuckled, "Easy friend, I will let you preach in the first cathedral built or would you prefer Fedelio's Pulpit?"
Cache smiled, I did not mean to get carried away, but we both need to remember our present positions and we are just supposing for sport. Our horses are finished and we are famished, let us see what Tubbins, the innkeeper, has for the feedbag of Cache and his new apprentice.
The first floor of the inn was a large common room with a dozen crude tables and benches. A large fireplace and small kitchen stood across the back wall. The second floor circled above with a ring of sleeping rooms. Tubbins gave new meaning to the words "large man." He was well over six feet tall and well over three hundred pounds. Everything about him was round, giving a deceiving look of softness. As they entered he moved a kettle of boiling clothes from the fire for his wife. Ward guessed the iron kettle alone to weigh over a hundred pounds. Tubbins lifted it with one hand like a pail of water. His wife was a large woman, out weighing most men, yet she looked dainty beside the massive Tubbins.
Tubbins was all smiles, "Mr. Cache, it is a pleasure to serve you again. Anything I have is yours at no charge, and for your young friend too."
"Not at all Tubbins, my apprentice and I come to your inn because your accommodations are the best. The best is worth its price. I'm sure in these times business is not so good, you can give your wares away and still make a profit."
"Aye Mr. Cache, business is not good but after all you did for me I could never repay you."
Ward was aching to hear it all. "Mr. Tubbins what did my good master do to evoke such gratitude. To me he speaks only of business."
"Well, your master is not the bragging kind. Elma! Bring us some flagons and meat and potatoes for our guests, while I tell the lad about our good friend, Mr. Cache."
Cache was embarrassed and glad there was no crowd around this usually busy place. Tubbins took the entire opposite bench and started on with his story. "Last spring we had a nice crowd here just before the spring festival. A traveling preacher came in. There's two kinds of them, you know, them that wants your soul for the Lord and them that wants your purse. Well he was the Soul kind and went around spouting his amens and prayers. Now I'm not a man to interfere with the Lord's work, so I'm going to let him have a few minutes, then ask him not to bother my customers. After all, the Missus is partial to religious things. Well he came to that table in the corner with four ruffians sitting there. They were real impatient with him. Instead of telling him to find another table, one of them hit him and another pulled a knife. I was just coming out of the cellar with a barrel on my shoulder and didn't even have time to set it down. The Missus let fly across the room with a hot skillet and got the man with the knife right up aside the head. She didn't do any big damage but it sure riled him. He and one more started after her. Right then, I dropped the barrel and by the time they got to her I had them by the collars and the one with the knife stuck me between the ribs. Just before I passed out, I saw Mr. Cache with a flurry of hands and feet and men, three and four, were on the floor amid their knives and teeth."
Cache interjected, "all I did was watch your back Tubbins. You rammed the faces of your two rogues together like two melons. They were still unconscious when the Warder brought the officers to arrest them. By then, the men I had fought had been awake and bound for hours. Your wife was the real miracle worker. She pulled that knife out of you, cut you open with a razor and stitched you from the inside to out. I never expected you to survive.
"Yessir, her father was a Army surgeon and she nursed for him before he was killed. Fine woman, I couldn't do without her. I'm not as fast as I used to be. In these hard times tempers are short and there is a lot of cutting going on. She gets plenty of practice sewing."
"By the way sir, those rogues were wanted for murdering and three of them were hung. The fourth, a lad from a good family escaped. There were rumors about a bribe but something like that is hard to prove.
From across the room, Elma banged on a pot with a spoon. "Caleb, tell him everything, remember we agreed, everything."
Tubbins hung his head like a naughty child. "Mr. Cache Sir, There was a reward after they were hung. Now I insisted to the Judge and Warder you had a right to it as much as me. They insisted your name was not in the record and mine was so they was bound to give it all to me." His voice trailed off to a whisper. "I spent it all, sir. You know times being hard we had borrowed money to keep the inn going. But, we paid our debts and spent the last of it to fill the larder this month. That is all our debts but you, sir. We'll pay your share with good interest when business is good again. Business can't be bad forever."
Cache reached across the table to a pair of massive quivering hands. Tubbins I know about the reward. The money went exactly where I wanted it to go. I know about the extra children you feed, the sick farm folk Elma sees after and the rolls of cloth in your larder for making clothes to give away. It's more than just the wine and roast that makes this the best inn.
Cache arose, "It's late Ward and I have some unfinished business."
Tubbins nodded in assent, "Yes sir, your exercises. I told Knot to prepare a wash barrel in the stable and then stay away until you had gone to your room."
"Come Ward, your have one more learning experience today."
"Yes sir, but I wouldn’t mind learning, whatever it is, tomorrow."
In the stable there was a wash barrel and towels. Cache told ward, "get in the barrel, wash and watch." By the time Ward was in the barrel, Cache had stripped also and wrapped a long cloth around his waist and between his legs. Standing at attention, he took several deep breaths and cupped his palms together at his chest, prayerfully. Closing his eyes he seemed to drift into a sleep. Suddenly he caught Ward in complete surprise, now he understood the term, "a flurry of hands and feet." Cache dropped to a crouch and fists alternated forward. Elbows shot out, there were kicks forward and backward. With every blow, to an imaginary opponent Cache gave a grunt or a yell. During the ten minutes of movement Ward thought he saw a pattern by he was not sure. It stopped as suddenly as it had started. Cache was back in the apparent prayer position with closed eyes.
Cache opened his eyes. His body glistened with sweat. "Hop out lad. It's my turn. When you dry off there is a tin of salve in my shirt pocket for your tender skin."
Ward dried, doctored and dressed. "How did- Why did you-oh-What did you do?"
"I gave you a demonstration of what you will be doing in less that three months. At lest you will be stumbling through it. It took me a year to get it smooth and them two more years before my guru said it was good."
"Cache, I must be tired I don't relate that dance you just did to being king."
"Cache touched a finger to his lips, "as an apprentice, now you must forget about that other part."
Dried and dressed the two sat in the hay. Cache began, "At your age my father took me to India. While trading and traveling, a bandit gang attacked us and my father injured. Two Lamas or priests, who drove away our attackers, saved us. They have as many different religions as we have different kinds of grasshoppers. These two lamas were seeking peace and harmony by having total confidence in their own abilities and merging this confident self with the universe. Being young I was enthralled by the fancy but effective fighting. You can never tell when a merchant will meet a bandit. While my father healed I studied under Thant, the Priest I chose for my guru or teacher. When father was healed I begged him to allow me to stay to trade and study. He consented with the condition I conduct a certain value of business annually. I found I could do that business with four months hard work and have eight months to study. I spent five years there and was brought back by the death of my father. I encourage traders working with me to learn this for their own protection. What I have mastered is a small part of the hand and foot movements. I have seen Lamas snatch spears and arrows from the air and walk on water. But, I have settled for stealing this minute portion of the art to use in the most crass of endeavors, making and keeping money. I left the universe by the wayside while I pursue the coin of the realm," he added with a smile.
"Tomorrow night you will begin your training with a series of exercises to increase you flexibility. In about a week you will start basic hand and foot movements involved in this form. There are many forms, each a different combination of movements. To be proficient with any one form gives you quite an advantage.
"There are many benefits. Forcing yourself to exercise, regardless of how tired you are instills self-discipline. The exercise improves you body making it stronger and quicker for any task as well as improving your mind. You will have a self confidence that makes it unnecessary to prove your powers, unless absolutely necessary." Cache could have continued praising the benefits of the art but Ward sat fast asleep.
The next week was a series of stops with Cache's traders. There were long discussions about the bad economy and the shortages of trade goods. Arrangements were made for the shipping of pots, knives or shoes, whatever was available, to areas where there would be a ready market. Traders and merchants kept detailed ledgers and paid Cache a small percentage of the profit. In return his network kept them informed on the availability and values throughout the kingdom. The agents were not overburdened by Cache but hundreds of them contributed to his system with money and information. Cache gave no apparent signs of riches but his income was generous and sustained. He also was obviously
generous with deserving people having a true need.
Ward's first week of exercises was a torture. Cache stretched twisted and bent him into positions the human body had no right to assume. All this followed by pushing and pull movement with his own body weight as the resistance. The first night was a test to learn Ward's physical limits. This was followed by nights of wracking pain pushing him to the edge of his endurance. The eighth night he was retested and to his joy he could bend and stretch fifty percent farther. It was with great pride he took his first fighting stance. Cache was meticulous in finger, hand, arm positions and breathing techniques. Each of Ward's exercise periods ended with sitting cross-legged breathing slowly and deeply. Totally relaxed he watched Cache move through the complex motions of defeating his invisible opponent.
On that eighth night after exercising Cache explained, "Your progress has gone well. But, you can expect as you practice your improvement will come in smaller strides. Each week you will improve less but with each practice you will improve.”
Sometimes their hosts would join Cache in the ritual dance and side-by-side they would move through the form as mechanically as two water mills grinding corn. The hosts always wanted to practice another form, which had the two pretending to fight each other. It was inspiring to see the explosive blows end harmlessly within a hair's breath of the opponent.
Back at siege camp, five men surrounded a table. Static was awed, "Alonzo surely you jest, saying you have determined the weight and diameter of the earth. With those computations we could begin determining the same for the sun and moon, even obtaining distances. I must see your calculations."
Fedelio was pleading, "Please, gentlemen please we have sat at this table for four hours and accomplished nothing more than introductions. I realize Alonzo's theories on the size of the earth may influence some of your own calculations but we have nearer problems at hand. Once our political situation is stabilized you will have time to strive for your far reaching goals. We now need weapons and strategies to keep the army at bay. Our popular support at any time could be lost to cows and crops. Their temperament is not geared to daily clashes with trained troops. We may rally them periodically but their enthusiasm will wane as they see homes and crops laid to waste.
Static spoke, "My fire traps would work only in outer defenses. Perhaps a few spread around the siege line would free some of the volunteers yet still deter free passage.
Alonzo interrupted, "What is the compound that fuels your fire traps?
"Charcoal, sulfur and nitrate fired by a friction device.
"Alonzo continued, "I have done some experiments with similar compounds. When they are entrapped in a sturdy container, instead of fire they give a devastating concussion. The only ignition I have ever used as a lighted fuse."
Milo interjected, "A fulmate of quicksilver wrapped in waxed paper ignites when crushed. It is fragile but waterproof. I have considered tiny paper-thin metal containers but have been to busy with other things to try it.
Crast, the fourth teacher, finally spoke. If your fire and concussion trinkets could be limited to two ounces they could be delivered by longbow. Those arrows would surely make lasting impressions on men and horses alike. The Chinese have propelled such things from long metal or paper tubes.
Fedelio was now all smiles. "Excellent, friends, we have progress at last. Work your ideas into specific weapons with good drawings and notes. Meet with the Smiths this evening, making sure they fully understand and can began work tomorrow. We want the first of these weapons in hand in a week, less if possible. I need to find Tabor, while you get your details down."
Tabor was an old army sergeant with a grudge against the army, having lost a leg below the knee in an onslaught against a bandit stronghold. He was sure he could have still done some good soldiering with a leg and a half but the army turned him away. With a peg leg and a cane he did the best he could to find work. Fedelio found old Tabor a godsend at organizing the civilians and giving them a quick course in military tactics. The tireless old soldier walked the siege line and camps for hours on end encouraging and teaching.
Fedelio found Tabor coaching a group of lads with staffs on the lunges and parries of spear fighting. Leaving the young lads to practice, the two walked and talked. "Tabor, Scavengers are beginning to trickle in around us. They razed two farms last night killing or burning anything they found. The very old and very young, threats to none, were ruthlessly murdered. We both know it won't take much of that to discourage the farm folk. Can you stop those tactics?"
"'course, I'm sure I can. I'll form about twenty-five of the eager young lads into a light Calvary. In two or three days they won't be a match for an equal number of experienced Calvary but they will handle the greedy scavengers. If the boys and me keep the groups broken up and moving they will never reach the siege camps. Every day or two I'll send someone back with any extra weapons we pick up."
“Tabor, I can’t risk losing you in the field. If we are attacked from inside or outside, without your skills here we are lost."
"Ram will not attack from the castle, he is too conservative. Groups of ten or twenty would not attack from the outside without strong leadership. Ram has few commanders that strong. His tacticians do not inspire the men and his fighters have no rank. There is a chain of command here to maintain order and keep it running smooth. My lads are brave and smart but are not experienced in war. In a week they could take down some of the scavengers but they would take heavy losses doing it. I can keep the losses to a minimum. After all this is over I expect the
Prince to have an easy job for this old soldier."
"All right Tabor, you have won this engagement. Do what you must, but be back here seven days from today with your troop. We are working on new weapons to increase your advantage. I wish I had your confidence of an easy victory."
"Fedelio we have two different enemies. Yours is a kingdom overtaxed, half starved and totally untrusting. My enemy is an overblown general with a half trained army that has not fought a major battle in over twenty years. My enemy is absolutely predictable, yours is not."
Ward's second week of exercises ended with a test, as all following weeks would. True to Cache's promise the gain was smaller but it was still evident. The third week began with defensive blocks. There were blocks against fists and weapons from right and left. Again, Cache was meticulous about body positions. Repeatedly he said, "Just blocking is not enough, you must be in the best position to retaliate."
Riding onto the village of Sallsford, Cache and Ward stopped at the village Inn. There they groomed their horses as usual and took a light noon meal of fruit and drink. Cache talked about the village. "Sallsford has always had more than its share of metal smiths. About twenty years ago I met Hammitt, a mediocre metal smith, handicapped by burns and scars on his hands. He was intelligent and knew good metal work when he saw it so I helped him establish a trade shop. He gathered the best pots, pans, knives, spoons and cups in iron, pewter and silver for our distribution. Hammitt and his wife did very well but about five years ago he died leaving the business in Widow Hammitt's hands. That was when I learned she was the one with the real head for business. He knew the work, on sight, of every master smith within fifty miles. Finding and identifying quality was his forte but his wife was better at keeping track of numbers and records. Over the past five years the quality of the merchandise has dropped but she manages to maintain a profit, which many cannot. They left the inn, talking about the village in general and walking to the Hammitt shop.
Widow Hammitt stood in the shop door sweeping. A man in rags, with the two men far to his rear, approached the widow and whispered in low tones. She screamed, "Never, brigand begone!" He lunged forward with a knife. With the broom handle she parried the blow and whacked him across the lips. Dropping the knife, with curses he grabbed his face. The widow buried the end of the broom handle into his belly. Doubling over with a rush of air he clutched his stomach. Raising her skirt to her knees the widow jumped and kicked. Her foot caught his already bleeding lips and with a thud he landed on his back, then was still.
Now the Widow Hammitt noticed the approaching pair. In surprise she dropped her broom, straightening her skirt and hair.
"Land sakes, Mr. Cache, It is so embarrassing to be caught acting "unlady like."
"Not at all Missus Hammitt. I realize it is difficult to fight for your life and still assume the demeanor of a lady but you managed very well. If only we had been closer we could have offered assistance. This is Ward my apprentice. May I send him for the Warder?"
"By all means sir. It's on the right side of the street, halfway to the Inn, if you don't mind young man.” Ward nodded without a word and trotted back down the street.
Later with the Warder and brigand gone, Widow Hammitt and her guests sat in the shop having tea. "I find it hard to understand, Mr. Cache. In the fifteen years my husband ran the shop, they tried to rob us twice and he stopped them both times with your good teaching, sir. Now they come into the shop about twice a year. Only three months ago the baker was killed and only bread and buns were taken."
She continued, "I first thought your exercises were a bit silly but they worked so well for my husband, I decided to learn some of them. As you have witnessed it saves me regularly. I'm teaching it to some of the local shop girls. The street lads joke about us being witches because our brooms are so effective. It would be nice if they equated us to something other than witchcraft, rumors start so easy in these days."
"Now Missus Hammitt, there are too many real problems at hand to worry about all the things that might happen. Let's have a look at your inventory and books, then decide how we may best turn them into a profit."
Cache and Ward lay in the shade of a grove of trees. The gentle breeze almost lulled them to sleep. They had ridden at a conservative pace all morning in the heat of the sun. The shade and breeze was a nice rest for men and beasts. Ward asked, "When do I get to start punching and kicking again. I've been blocking for two weeks. I can recite the body positions for every block."
"That's precisely the problem, lad. Your reactions are too slow because you are mentally reciting each of the steps to prepare for a block. Each part of the body must move into position automatically, with no directions from your conscious mind. When that happens you are ready to respond offensively. The defensive and offensive moves should take no longer than the blink of an eye. I have trained many people and without fail impatience has been their greatest adversary."
With a snap of a twig Cache was on his feet and whispering, "Up, boy, up." As Ward came to his knees a young man with a knife lunged directly at him, while two ran at Cache. The first to reach Cache regretted it. He was stopped in his tracks with Cache's foot in his face. Falling in front of his companion, the third thief tripped over the fallen body and as he hit the ground Cache's fist took him out of the fight. Two opponents, two blows and Cache's part in the fight was completed in hardly more that the blink of an eye.
The young man after Ward was more desperate that skilled. With his attention riveted on Ward, he was totally unaware his companions were lost to the fray. He stabbed and slashed at Ward from almost every angle always cutting empty air or meeting bone-jarring blocks. He raised the knife high, Ward anticipated the blow, stepping in with a high block. They were chest to chest when Ward raised a knee into his opponent’s groin. The knife fell harmlessly behind Ward as the young thief fell before him, sobbing like a child.
Ward was out of breath and outraged. "Why didn't you-gasp-do something-pant. He tried to kill me-gasp-you would have let him."
Cache was all smiles, "Calm yourself boy. I demonstrated the proper way to end a fight without getting yourself hurt. Possibly you were too busy to notice. There is no better way to test your blocking under pressure. Your first blocks were a little slow and unsteady but when you stopped counting and started blocking instinctively you were excellent. Your last move even caught me by surprise. I expected the lad to see his defeat and just give up. You passed your next test with all colors high. Tonight we will add the first exercise form to your schedule."
"But you could have ended this without endangering me."
Cache continued, "Yes I could, but these are dangerous times and I will not be your protector forever. Knowing you can protect yourself will make you, shall we say, a better man."
"Cache, you make all of this clear and simple. Why am I assailed with doubts at every turn."
"A little doubt creates caution. Because of a little doubt, that snapping twig caught my attention and we were more ready than we would have been otherwise. Though, never let a little doubt outweigh good facts and good judgment."
"Well experienced advisor, what do we do with these fallen angels? It is a long way to a Warder and I really don't want to practice on them again."
"We will cut their ragged clothes into strips and bind them and leave them. By the time they wiggle loose we will be far-gone. If they do not wiggle loose, they will pay the maximum price for not being adept in their chosen trade and I find that unlikely."
Tabor was not happy with the results of his last two days of training. "Static are you trying to get my lads killed. The effective range of these arrows is hardly more than fifty yards. That is going to increase my losses. I will stay with the tried and true arrows and give my lads a better chance."
"Now Tabor, wait until you can see what the new war arrows actually do. These are not to replace the standard arrows but to supplement them. Are your men proficient with the training arrows? They have the same weight and balance as the new arrows."
"How proficient do you want them to be? The worst can hit a plate at fifty yards. The best can split a wand at sixty, but there are not many of the best."
"Good enough friend, our camp guards fall into the tin plate category and they find the new arrows most satisfactory. I realize guard duty calls for different tactics compared to raiding parties but modified weapons call for modified tactics. Two of you lads hang these two small hams at the fifty-yard line and return here. While they are at it I will give a few explanations. We have color coded all new weapons. Anything in red produces fire. Black is the color for explosive weapons. All arrows are made with a tiny explosive charge in the hollow arrowhead. This fires the larger charge bound to the shaft. A small wire placed crosswise within the head will stand a pound or two of pressure and keep it from firing. Anything in excess of that can bend the wire and cause the arrow to activate. The wire is merely a safety device to protect the archer. Any impact within the fifty-yard range will easily activate the arrow. On all arrows any resulting fire is caused by a powder mixture and can be smothered with dirt or water. Now Tabor, if you would be so kind as to put a red arrow in one of the hams, demonstrating the effectiveness on flesh." The arrow flew from Tabor's bow and there was a muffled bang. Within seconds after contact, a fist-sized hole was burned into the ham and the smoking shaft dropped to the ground.
Static handed Tabor a black arrow. Tabor nocked the arrow and sent it on its way. On contact there was a crisp explosion and hearts throughout the crowd jumped and quivered. The ham bone swung and spun as its pieces of meat rained on the countryside. The crowd of young soldiers watched the smoking and spinning hams. With one mind the realized the value of having these weapons and burst forth with a chorus of ear splitting cheers.
When order was restored, Static smiled, we have other surprises for Leopold's greedy hounds. This cane stick is a Crast Candle. It shoots fireballs fifty to one hundred yards. We regret the wide margin but Crast was lost before he could perfect it. You no doubt heard about the two assassins in the siege camp. They got Crast's head, mistaking him for myself." Static swallowed and wiped a tear from his eye. "We lost a vast store of knowledge but they did not escape. One was stopped with a black arrow in his back. It opened his chest like a blossom. The second, carrying Crast's head, challenged a guard armed with a candle and got three fire-balls in his chest. These fireballs are a burning metal and they cannot be extinguished but must burn themselves out. Remove the protective boot cover from the fore end and press the waxed paper fuse. From that end you will get five fireballs at onesecond intervals. Once started the candle must run its course."
"We now have traps, called mines because they are to be buried. When stepped on they activate. The red, round, wooden boxes produce enough fire to easily destroy a horse. The round, black, metal boxes will do to a man what the black arrow did to the ham. The objects that look like clumsy spades are cannons. Embed the spade into the ground at an angle, drop a papered powder charge into the barrel followed by a mine. A burning fuse at the spade end will cause the cannon to hurl the mine through the air. The powder charges can be stacked. Each charge has a fifty-yard range. Five charges means two hundred fifty yards of range. Use no more than five charges. Above that performance is erratic and dangerous.
"These are the weapons we can offer. Tabor you are the tactician. Will they serve or do we need further research?"
Tabor was all smiles. "Will they serve? With these I can lay Ram's whole army at the Prince's feet. With that inept army I can lay the world at his feet. Just these weapons alone, increase our power tenfold."
"Tabor, please, it is sufficient to leave our Prince crowned and our country in peace and prosperity."
"Our store of these weapons is small since most of the week was spent developing them. Use about third of these for your men to practice. Maybe, pick a lad or two specialize on each. As we build more weapons you can train more men for them. In the future our output will improve."
Tabor suggested, "I can use four or five of the of the spade cannons and a moderate amount of powder. The mines show greater promise. They are small enough to be thrown twenty-five or thirty yards. In an ambush we could have the enemy thinking the fire and brimstone of hell is raining on them and then be on them before they recovered. Or can you imagine the confusion when they walk into one of their hidden camps and it explodes under their feet. By the way, what have you done to harass the castle while I was in the field."
"Nothing," Static answered, "All of our energy has been devoted from the camp outwards."
Tabor sighed, "Lord bless me that I might be two places at the same time. You must keep them off balance. Do not give them time to rest and organize. Static you have read Homer in the original Greek. Remember the tactics. The Greeks build catapults and threw corpses and dung just to harass the Trojans. Every soldier or servant that dies or deserts before the coronation will make our job easier on that day."
Static shook his head, "Of course, you are right. How about some mysterious explosions, which they could not directly attribute to us? A machine that threw mines, silently, inside the castle grounds at night would be unsettling? Alonzo is well versed on siege machines. We were not planning on storming the castle, so we did not consider them.”
Tabor spoke sharply, "Consider everything. If you can make a machine to put a mine in Leopold's chamber pot, you'll shorten this siege by two months.
"Yes Tabor, we are chastised. We will broaden our considerations.”
Tabor continued, "by the time our Cavalry is well supplied with the new weapons, they will be experienced enough to control the scavengers on their own. At that time, I will return to siege camp.
"Wonderful, the camp troops are holding steady but what we need is improvement. If you had been here maybe guards would have gotten the assassins before, instead of after the damage was done."
Tabor was somber, "do not dwell on the past. Crast designed his own revenge and left a legacy to assist our Prince in winning a crown.
Leopold was his usual irate self. "Ram, where are the servants? There was no breakfast tray this morning. When I told you to lock the servants in the stable at night to stop desertions, I didn't mean leave them there all day."
Ram spoke hesitantly, "There are no servants, Sire."
"No servants, weren't they locked up and under guard, Idiot."
"Yes, Sire."
Leopold was livid. "What happened?"
"There was an explosion--"
"There were several explosions," Leopold interrupted.
"The stable collapsed with fire. Our stable guards panicked and went over the wall followed by the surviving servants. Guards on the north wall tried to stop them and died. We have less than a hundred soldiers, Sire. We have lost.
Leopold roared, "Lost! When your body hangs from a gallows in the courtyard, you have lost. Are you ready for that?"
"No Sire," Ram tried to sound strong.
Leopold continued, “When we all three hang from that gallows, we will have lost. Only then can that young prince ride through the gate and claim his crown."
"Sire, I could get him within fifty yards of the gate, I would have archers fill him like a pin cushion." Leopold jumped, "You've got it you sly old war horse. Get Cicero in here quick.
Three desperate men paced the wall above the main gate overlooking a raised drawbridge. Leopold spoke in whispers, even though the nearest enemy was over three hundred yards away.
"Cicero, tomorrow morning propose, in your meeting, we will surrender to Fedelio, Static and the Prince. To them only, and under the condition we will not receive death. Say, we will stand on the drawbridge and when they are within fifty yards of the bridge we will advance to meet them. Ram, have six of your best archers at the shooting slots in the wall. When we step forward they are to put at least two arrows in each of the three. At the impact of the first arrow we will get back inside and the drawbridge is to be raised. With them dead the coalition will fall apart. When we see signs of the siege camp weakening, we will call a truce and present our evidence of the treachery of those three. They cannot refute us from the grave and no other will dare stand against us. Cicero, when you plead for our lives tomorrow, cower at your best but concede nothing that will lessen our advantage. Do you understand?"
"Absolutely, Sire."
At siege camp, Static looked up from Alonzo's volume of calculations. "It is a trap, I know Leopold, It is a trap."
Fedelio argued, "Possibly, but he has less than a hundred men. He cannot win. Surrender without death is his best option. My flock is dying daily in this war for a gold cap. If I can shorten the war, I owe it to my congregation. I started this and I must end it for the sake of these bewildered dying souls, who trusted me. Men on both sides of that wall are from my church. The morning the prince arrives we will raise the white flag over siege camp. When the drawbridge opens the surrender will start.
A week later the sun rose to find a white flag over siege camp. The besiegers gathered about the road leading to the now open drawbridge. As if on cue, Fedelio and Static stepped before the crowd leading a horse mounted by Prince Howard. The young prince was leaner, tanned and carried an air of confidence.
At the same time, from the cavity of the castle gate Leopold, Ram and Cicero stepped to the center of the bridge. The crowd was a hundred yards from the bridge and Fedelio and Static with their hands on the reins started forward. When they reached the fifty-yard point the three on the bridge stepped forward.
On Leopold's second step a volley of arrows flew from the castle wall. With the utmost precision two arrows embedded into the chest of Fedelio followed by two to the chest of Static. Fedelio stared at the arrows in his chest in disbelief. Turning his head to the prince he mumbled, "You must prevail" and collapsed. Lagging by two seconds, two arrows sped at the Prince. Now alert, he turned and leaned left letting the first past harmlessly. In an unbelievable motion he snatched the second shaft from the air and held it above his head, to the cheers of his little army.
The trio on the drawbridge turned running for the gate. Howard spurred his horse forward and with a leap it was on the rising bridge. The horse passed close enough to Cicero to knock him from the bridge and into the moat. Ram alerted by the sound of hoof beats on the bridge turned with a drawn sword and lunged.
The horse veered to the right and onto the point of the sword. Stumbling at Ram's feet, the horse threw the prince on top of Ram. Howard dazed from the impact rolled onto his back shaking his head. Ram clutched the broken arrow shaft in his throat and uttered sickening choking sounds.
Leopold seeing the groggy prince drew his sword and advanced with a smile of conceit. He raised the sword high like an obscene knife and stabbed. Howard rolled again as the weapon buried half its length in the ground. From his prone position, the Prince kicked at the sword, breaking it and knocking the hilt from Leopold's hand. Recovered, he was quickly on his feet and met Leopold's lunge with a kick to the stomach. As the prince shifted his feet for one last kick he seemed to have all the time in the world. He thought of the deaths of his parents, Fedelio, Static and over two hundred others during the past weeks. It was due to the insane greed of this one man. Rising on his left toes, his right leg kicked and he heard the bone of Leopold's face crack. Leopold straightened up staggering backwards, he stumbled and fell onto Ram's sword protruding from the neck of the dead horse. With Leopold's last gasp the siege and civil war were over and the drawbridge lowered.
Prince Howard ran back to his fallen friends, Static sat with tears in his eyes and the head of Fedelio in his lap. "Sire, he did not see the dawn of your reign," Choked Static. Arrows still protruded from their chests.
Howard stammered, "But you, the arrows, you must get bandaged. We cannot afford your loss also. Static smiled through his tears. "These arrows are of no consequence. They lie somewhere between the sun and the moon. I have Alonzo's book in my tunic."
Howard was aware of the crowd gathering, with Tabor at the head. "Your Lordship, I don't wish to interfere with your grieving but you have a castle that needs securing and order to be restored.”
The prince forced as smile, "I know and I need a general for my army. Tabor you are now General Tabor, do not let it go to your head. There is to be amnesty for all. Leopold's survivors are to walk away from here with their lives and nothing more."
"But Sire, that spineless snake Cicero."
"Oh yes, every rule needs an exception. Hang him!
There were deafening cheers from the crowd.
The soon to be King, raised his hand for silence. "Static and his fellow wise men have formed a council which they call University. The first assignment for University was to design weapons to secure the crown for my head. Their next assignment is to teach our people about elections. May that crown, someday, be placed on my head by popular vote of our kingdom.
While the crowd cheered, the body of Fedelio was reverently lifted to shoulders and Prince Howard led a parade into the castle. Cache moved beside Static and shouted into his ear, "The lad's not even been crowned yet and he is already a better king than his father."