The Last Pilgrims (42 page)

“I don’t personally believe that at all. We
have never successfully defeated any Texas militia of any real
size. Aztlan’s history in Texas is one of defeat after defeat. Only
a fool would believe that the forces now arrayed against the
militia are sufficient to do the job. But they don’t know we’re
here, and I intend to surprise the Ghost militia
after
the
battle is over, when, if they still exist, they are weakest and
when they will believe that they have won.” The Chancellor walked
over to the door of the tent and peered outside. “You of all
people, Rollo, should know that we should never underestimate an
enemy that fights for honor and for freedom. However wicked they
are in their religion, and foolish they are in their worldview,
they are not mercenaries like that rabble we have here in our
army.”

“Is the King aware of your feelings, Your
Honor?”

“No, he is not, and neither
will
he
be made aware of them, Rollo. What this Kingdom needs is a strong
and effective Pope. The King should rule at the behest and pleasure
of God’s representative on earth. Only then will Aztlan meet and
surpass its potential. I am certain that an honorable and religious
man such as yourself can see the benefits of such an
arrangement?”

“I do, Your Honor.”

“Our task, Rollo… our
mutual
obligation… is to defeat and destroy these rebels, and to erase the
execrable race of Vallenses from
our
soil. When we do so, I
believe that God will reward us, and the King will see that
you
ought to be allowed to manage Texas, and I ought to be
given the authority over the visible Church of God at New Rome. Do
you agree?”

“I do, Your Honor.”

“Good. We will have Mass this evening, then
we will ride in the morning and put an end to this rebellion.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

By late afternoon on the following day, the
army of New Rome pulled up about fifteen miles northwest of San
Angelo in order to await intelligence on what was happening at
Harmony. The late summer sun was blistering hot, and shade was a
rare blessing in the scrub and low juniper. Rollo was sitting
impatiently among the sycophants in the Chancellor’s general staff
when the Knight Chancellor himself rode up and reined his
horse.

“
Rollo Billings!” he shouted
brusquely. “Here, good sir!” The Chancellor turned his horse to the
southeast and rode about twenty yards away from the rest of his
staff.

“Coming, Sir!” Rollo responded obediently,
as he spurred his horse and rode to meet the Chancellor. “Your
Honor!” he said as he approached the Knight.

“Rollo… good… ok. We are not far from the
battle. I require you and your expertise for a mission if, of
course, you are pleased to do it.”

“Very pleased to help in any way that I am
able, Your Honor.”

“I want you to take 25 men and ride scout
ahead. I want to make sure that we have not arrived too early and
that we are not riding into any sort of militia ambush.”

“Is there any specific information that Your
Honor requires, sir?”

“We are virtually blind here. I need any
information that you can provide.”

“Yes, sir!” Rollo shouted as he again
spurred his horse and rode back to the staff. He was appointed 25
men by Lieutenant General Weld of the cavalry, and after quickly
outfitting themselves with arms and gear the scout squad rode off
to the southeast at a gallop.

He was excited to be of use to the Knight
Chancellor, but he was curious as to why he had been chosen to
complete this mission. The cavalry was always tasked with gathering
information and riding scout, so he was a bit suspicious as to why
the Chancellor might have selected him to lead the party.
Perhaps he wants me killed so he can deny me the Barony?
No.
That made no sense. The Chancellor had all power while serving as
Commanding General of the Army. He could easily have had Rollo
killed for failing to completely fulfill his mission to kill
Jonathan Wall in the first place. If the Knight Chancellor wanted
him dead, he’d be dead.
Why then?
Perhaps Sir Jarius didn’t
trust his own commanders? This was most likely the case. He had
said as much the night before. Regardless, Rollo intended to do his
duty and do it well enough that The Falcon would know without doubt
that he could be trusted.

They rode hard for ten miles without
incident, and they were not five miles out of San Angelo when they
came upon what looked to be a militia scout unit moving slowly and
furtively towards the recently destroyed city.

Rollo spurred his horse and shouted, “Ride
hard, boys! Capture them all!” His spirits rose as he rode, and he
knew that if he could capture a militia scout party, he would be
able to extract information from them one way or another. Things
were looking bright for him, and he could see himself being named
the
Baron Rollo Billings
in no time at all. Maybe there
would even be a knighthood in it for him.
That wouldn’t be
bad
, he told himself.

In no time the Aztlani unit had surrounded
the party of eight, and as Rollo rode up he could see through the
dust that the militia men had circled up—facing outward—with their
weapons drawn… and that he knew all of them. The first one he
recognized was Piggy, who had a knife near his ear and a smile on
his face. Young Ruth Wall was next to him and she had her bow drawn
and bent. The others—Timothy, The Hood, the turncoat Troy, young
Marbus Claim, and Rob Fosse were all likewise ready for battle, and
they had surrounded Jonathan Wall who had a look of concern on his
face.

“Hold your fire!” Rollo shouted to no one in
particular. “Put down your weapons Piggy… and you there Rob, drop
them… all of you!”

“That will never happen, Rollo,” Piggy
snorted.

“This is hardly a fair fight, Piggy,” Rollo
replied.

“Yes! You are correct. You better go get
more guys!” Piggy parried.

“If you don’t drop your weapons, you will
all die right now, Piggy, including the girl… of course, after we
are done with her. Jonathan will die too. You are sworn to protect
him, Piggy. Drop your weapons and give yourselves up and the Walls'
will not be harmed.”

“You were in Texon to kill him, Rollo, you
traitorous buffoon. No way he lives if we surrender, so let’s stop
the chit-chat and get on with this.”

“As you wish!” Rollo shouted and his horse
reared up as he spurred him forward. The battle commenced with such
ferocity and with such speed that it soon became hard for him to
determine just what happened, and in what order. Piggy’s first
knife struck him in the upper chest and knocked him clean off his
horse. He felt no pain, and as he extracted the knife, out of the
corner of his eye he saw Aztlani soldiers falling to the ground,
pierced by arrows. He identified the boy Marbus Claim standing
amidst the fury of battle and from his knees he threw the knife at
him, watching it strike home.
Thanks for the lessons… and the
knife, Piggy
! At some point, he struggled to his feet and,
regaining his wits, he charged into the melee as arrows whizzed by
his head and the deafening sounds of swords colliding assaulted his
ears.

Rob Fosse fell at his feet and was stabbed
through with a sword by one of the Aztlani cavalrymen. Rollo fought
his way into the center of the mass of struggling men, and through
what could only be called a crack in the edifice of defenders he
was able to strike such a blow to the head of Jonathan Wall that
the Vallensian leader fell to the ground unconscious. He looked up
and saw Wall’s daughter standing calmly in the eye of the storm.
She was smoothly feeding arrows into her bow like a machine, and
Aztlani soldiers were falling from her arrows so fast that he was
certain that she never missed a shot. It was almost like her arrows
were trained to strike Aztlani hearts.

From his right he saw motion as one of his
men pulled a pistol and carefully aimed at the young red-headed
girl. Everything seemed to slow down, and he saw Timothy jump and
grab her at the last second, so that the bullet that was meant for
her hit him instead. He grinned at the meaningless, but heroic act.
He started to laugh, but just as he did, he was suddenly knocked
violently to the ground by a horse which clipped him as it rode
by.

He looked back and now Ruth was clutching
Timothy, and screaming his name as he slumped to the ground. He saw
Piggy—whose horse had been the one that smashed him to the
ground—snatch Ruth up with one hand and simply throw her like a rag
doll behind him on the horse before riding hard to the north. Ruth
held on, but she was looking back in terror and sadness knowing
that she was helpless to save her father or the wounded Timothy.
The Hood rode after Piggy, with the Aztlani traitor Troy hard at
his heels. Ruth’s horse Peloncio, riderless, galloped after them
under his own command.

Rollo heard himself shouting orders, but his
thoughts were muddled and the dust was such that it was hard to
know if there were even any Aztlani scouts alive to whom he might
direct those orders. Almost instinctively he lifted up the
unconscious Jonathan Wall, and as he did so he saw a few of his men
twirling around on their frightened horses, and he commanded one of
them to take the Vallensian leader and ride hard back towards the
army. The Aztlani cavalryman seemed to be relieved to be ordered to
flee, so he hastily pulled the stricken Vallensian over his lap and
galloped away as fast as he could. Rollo located his own mount,
then he half carried and half dragged the militia boy Timothy onto
the horse. It seemed that the boy might have received a mortal
blow, but he was still breathing.
Best to take any living
hostages
. He lashed the boy to the horse, mounted quickly, and
rode off at a gallop to catch up with the few Aztlani scouts who
were still left alive.

As he rode, he was surprised by his own
intense feeling of elation. His hearing returned, and his vision
widened. Adrenaline pumped through him like he had never felt
before—and he was the veteran of many battles. In the brief
skirmish, he saw that he had lost twenty men.
Twenty men!
Still, he had captured Jonathan Wall, and, perhaps the boy Timothy
might live and be able to give them information as well. He felt
the warm blood—his own—as it began to drench his tunic, and he
could feel it pooling at his beltline. He laughed and reveled in
the euphoria. The dampness of his own blood made him feel alive!
Two hostages in exchange for twenty men… When one of those men
is Jonathan Wall, it is well worth it.

Riding hard towards the army of New Rome,
his thoughts began to again grow confused; the adrenaline that was
keeping him going waned rapidly and he felt himself growing
light-headed. He knew that he was suffering from blood loss, but he
also knew that he would still be alright.
I’m a baron now! There
is no way they can keep the barony from me!

He awoke on a cot being attended to by the
Chancellor’s own surgeon. The dust of the day hung in the room like
a curtain and the late afternoon sun illuminated the floating
particles in the air. Squinting, he could just make out the face of
the Knight Chancellor, and of Lieutenant General Weld. Several more
officers of the Chancellor’s general staff were in attendance... he
heard their hushed whispers. They all stared at him in wonder.

“Baron Rollo Billings, it is good to see
that you are awake, and to hear that you should recover completely
from your wounds. Can you hear me and understand me, Baron?”

“Baron?” Rollo grunted.

“Yes, Baron Rollo. You are now a Baron and
you are officially awarded the Barony of Texas on behalf of the
King of Aztlan. Congratulations.”

The Falcon stood over him, his hooked nose
giving him the look of a deadly raptor about to feed on a fresh
kill. “We have heard of your bravery and heroism in the capture of
the heretic Jonathan Wall. He has already been sent back to New
Rome to stand trial for treason and heresy.” The Falcon leaned low
and dropped his voice to a faint whisper, so that only Rollo could
hear. “He will, of course, be examined before the Commission on the
Purity of the Faith, and I am certain… absolutely certain… that he
will be declared unorthodox.” The Chancellor stood upright again
and raised his voice. “We are all in your debt, Baron Rollo, and we
hope you recuperate soon. God is smiling down on us, Baron. We will
need you in the coming days.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” he managed to say. “Thank
you.” Then his head again began to swim. A Baron! The Baron of
Texas!
Why is it so dark?

Ruth felt nothing but despair. She had never
killed men before… but, strangely, that part didn’t really bother
her as much as it should have. Perhaps that would come later. She
had also never been in the heat of battle before… but, she felt
distant from any excitement or trauma arising from the fight.
Riding from the scene of the battle had been the most
heart-wrenching experience she had ever known in her young life.
Both her beloved father, and her good friend Timothy, lay stricken
on the field, and there was nothing… nothing… that she could do to
help them.
I don’t even know if they are alive
.

She felt a choking sensation in her throat,
and she suddenly struggled for air. She sobbed. Her heart pounded
in her chest and she desired more than anything in the world to be
able to go back in time… to kill them all… to save her father and
Tim. She might have done it, if she hadn’t run out of arrows.
I
failed them!

Piggy and The Hood tried desperately to help
her handle her grief. After a few hours of hiding out in the brush
north of San Angelo, they had crept back to the scene of the battle
to try to figure out what had happened. They found the body of Rob
Fosse, who was their captain and their friend, and that of Marbus
Claim, their silent and faithful companion, dead on the field.
Marbus had one of Piggy’s knives stuck in his chest. Upon finding
the knife, Piggy had cursed the soul of Rollo The Mountain, and
swore vengeance upon him.