Beyond the Fire Read online

  “I was with Rhoop,” Philip responded. “We were going over some of the old books he has at his house. It grew late, and I spent the night there.” Philip grinned, grabbed his hat and coat, waved, and said, “Until tonight!”

  “Thank you again, Son.”

  Philip nodded and stepped from the room.

  John hadn’t felt this good in days. Knowing that Philip would be at the meeting tonight, he no longer felt so isolated and alone. Crossing to the door, he decided it was time to mingle with his guests.

  In John’s absence, Jan Vanderwick of Highland had arrived, and with his arrival, the tension had eased somewhat. By the time Steele and Coalman arrived from Deep Delving and Zaraphath, things had become almost jovial.

  It was not surprising that Coalman and Steele had arrived together. Their communities were tied together by their trade. Deep Delving was a mining community nestled in the foothills of the Guardian Range. Coal and iron ore were pulled from deep in the earth. Zaraphath, only a few miles away, was where the coal was burned in huge furnaces to smelt the iron from the ore and turn the liquid metal into tools and, more recently, weapons of war.

  Gaff had ordered a large shipment of war supplies after the battle of Great Bend last year, but recently there had been other orders for new weapons, though no one seemed to know where they were going. Wherever those weapons were going, someone was paying a good price for them, and these two communities were prospering greatly.

  Conversation shifted to include each new arrival, and John, in an effort to be a good host, led each man to the table laden with bread, cheese, and fruit. Nearly everyone ate a bite with each new arrival, and by late afternoon, few were feeling anxious for a meal.

  The sun was dipping low in the western sky when the last two members of the council arrived. Andre Barleyman of Headwater and Master Devia of Green Meadow made their way across the river and into Stonewall. Headwater had a large brewery and supplied much of Amity with their brew. Due to the large number of orchards near Sebring and Waterfront, cider was the preferred drink closer to the sea, but Andre Barleyman had enough business up and down the river to have become quite wealthy.

  Short and excessively fat, Barleyman loaded his hands with more food than two men would normally eat and then stood near the fire to be warm while his companion garnered nearly everyone’s attention.

  Master Devia was a thin, bony man with long white hair. His long crooked nose matched his gnarled hands. The wrinkles in his face betrayed years of rough living. Born the son of a preacher, Devia had soon learned that a pastor did not make nearly enough money to wield much power in the political world. So, at the age of ten, he had begun a delivery service. Some years later, he’d added a horse and cart to assist in his deliveries. He was shrewd in business and had become quite wealthy, adding horses, wagons, drivers until late in his life, he gave the business to his only son, Samoth.

  With over a hundred wagons, four hundred horses, and ninety men in his employ, Samoth moved more merchandise outside Amity than many sea merchants could boast. He began to monopolize barge traffic on the Crescent River as well. Purchasing rafts and hiring men to work them, he often underbid long-time rivermen on loads, garnering much of that business as well. Though Devia Freight was a respected company, resentment had grown among many raftsmen, as loads were reduced and incomes were threatened.

  After leaving the freight business, Devia had returned to his father’s occupation as a minister. He’d spent many hours studying the Holy Writings and had given large sums of money to build a huge cathedral in Green Meadow. His respectability had grown since his retirement, and many people came to hear him speak each Sunday.

  Here at Stonewall, Master Devia was in his element. Bending low over his cane, he garnered every tidbit of courtesy to be found among the council. One would say, “Master Devia, let me help you with that platter of bread?” Another would add, “Here is a place near the fire. Come and warm yourself.”

  Smiling, Devia would cackle in his high, broken voice, “You shouldn’t bother with an old man like me” or “I’m really too much trouble.”

  This would bring a chorus of, “No! No! It’s no trouble at all!”

  After everyone had joined the new arrivals in another round of food and drink, John called the meeting to order. “Greetings, gentlemen. I’m glad you all could come so promptly. Some have traveled a long distance and have endured a cold, miserable day to get here. I hope you are fed and warmed sufficiently that we might begin.” Looking about as he spoke, he noted Philip near the edge of the room among the onlookers.

  Encouraged, he continued. “We will meet here in the great hall. A table has been prepared for the council members, and the rest of you are welcome to make yourselves comfortable. This portion of the meeting is open to all, and debate or comment is welcome from anyone, not just council members. Later, the council will adjourn to make final debate and vote on the direction Amity should proceed. Are there any questions?”

  No one spoke, and when John motioned, there was a general hubbub as men chose their places around the table and the room. John noticed that old Rhoop was beside Philip. Well, I’m not surprised, he thought. Sometimes I think those two are inseparable.

  Once everyone was seated, John studied the faces of the men around the table. He knew these men represented the people from their districts. All of them wanted what was best for their people. No one wanted a tyrant to invade this peaceful land or to enslave these wonderful people. Lord, John prayed silently, help us do Your will. Then he spoke aloud.

  “I’m sure you have all heard rumors of why we are here.” Some council members glared at John, others looked worried, and some would not even meet his gaze. “All spring we have heard about evil deeds near our western border. Yesterday, Mr. George Greenwold came from Green Meadow. He has reported seeing enemy troops near Green Meadow. George, would you like to share your news with the entire council?”

  “Aye, I would.” George stood and told the group that only five days prior, he and James Stafford had ridden out three miles west of Green Meadow to see four to five hundred men camped among the trees. James and George had been spotted by enemy sentries and had fled. No sooner had they returned to camp but Gaff had sent a man to report that an army much greater in size was making its way south along the Great River.

  A murmur of dismay ran through the room, but Devia cackled, “Gentlemen, be not alarmed. It is true: there are many men encamped west of Green Meadow. But they have no business with Amity. My son’s trade is unhindered in the western lands. These people have a disagreement with Gaff over the use of the Great River, and they are circling wide, looking for another route to the sea. If these people hold anything against Amity, it is because you sent troops to assist Gaff last year as he tried to retain his control of the Great River. If you will remember, I tried to warn you not to interfere.”

  He smiled to give reassurance to his words. “We have nothing to fear from these men,” he said, and then he began to wag his finger. “We need to stay out of this business. Gaff wants to control all shipping on the Great River, and these men merely want to move their own cargo downriver. Access to the sea is their goal, but if we meddle as we did last year, it will not be so graciously overlooked this time.”

  Rolph Gammel shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. It was well known that he frequently docked at Freedom City located at the mouth of the Great River. He knew many of the rivermen personally. Clearing his throat, he began to speak. “Some of what you say may be true, Master Devia, but I know many rivermen who make their living on the Great River. Not all are in Gaff’s employ.”

  John noticed Devia stiffen as the hollows of his cheeks turned red. “You sound as though you have never dealt with Gaff,” Devia scoffed. “He is a hard man. He rules with an iron will. Only commodities he approves may be shipped down the river, and everyone must answer to him for their business dealings.”


  Barleyman spoke. “Listen, everybody.” His speech was slurred as if his tongue was too thick for his mouth. “Master Devia speaks the truth. I have tried for years to sell my beer on the Great River, but Gaff has prevented me. He allows no one to buy or consume it on the river. He says it causes more trouble than it’s worth. I resent that! I see no trouble with drowning a man’s thirst in a mug or two. We have no trouble on the Crescent River.”

  Coalman suddenly spoke. “You may have no trouble, but we have plenty. Our barges move coal up and down the river, and usually we keep a good schedule. But if my lads get too much of your brew, I may not see them for a week or two.”

  Clearing his throat, John said, “Gentlemen, shall we return to the issue at hand? There are enemy troops located outside Green Meadow. What response are we to make?”

  Devia again stood and motioned for silence. “You say we have enemy troops outside Green Meadow. Did I ask the council last year for protection? No! But after your Gaff scandal, you felt it necessary to leave a thousand brawling, lazy, unprofitable men in my city for us to feed, house, and put up with. I ask you, gentlemen, who is the real enemy: those encamped west of the city who have not cost us a dime nor brought any harm or those sent to protect us by this very council?”

  George Greenwold nearly jumped out of his chair. “You say they have brought us no harm. What about old Stanley? He’s missing, as are others on the western slope. The Billings farm was burned to the ground and his stock run off. If that isn’t trouble, I don’t know what trouble is!”

  There was an uneasy murmur in the room. Jarod Steele looked at Devia. “I have family on the western slope. What about it, Devia? Are there people missing and homes burned?”

  Devia’s face had gone expressionless, but he licked at his lips as though they were dry. His voice became cool and steady, sending a shiver down John’s spine. “It can’t be true! This is the first I have heard of it.”

  George jumped up again, shouting, “I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of it. Old Stanley’s wife is afraid of you. She came to James for help.”

  John noticed a streak of red creeping up Devia’s neck as he asked, “Who is the master of Green Meadow: James Stafford or me?” Suddenly he turned his venom on John Stafford, but he continued to address the entire group. “What is the real reason for this council? Is it not to strengthen the Stafford hold on Amity?” Devia pointed his bony finger at John. “Do you not see his method? First he picks a fight in which he has no business. Then he claims he is protecting Amity by placing a large garrison of obedient soldiers in my city. Finally, he brings unsolicited friends to the council to support his evil designs.”

  “That is ridiculous—” George began, but John cut him short.

  “Peace, George.”

  The room was silent. Members of the council recalled their last meeting when John had pushed hard for helping Gaff and leaving troops in Green Meadow—all against Devia’s vocal opposition. Uneasy suspicion filled the room.

  John could see that Devia had regained his momentum. His demeanor softened, and his voice became less shrill. “You know I objected to sending troops to aid Gaff. You know I did not want a garrison in my backyard. If you will remember my reasoning, it will help you decide what action should be taken tonight.”

  Devia’s voice fell into the singsong pattern often used when giving a well-rehearsed speech. “I am diametrically opposed to war. Such violent action is perpetrated by men of weak character who have no regard for human life. Why should anyone send young men to die a senseless and premature death? Those who push for war desire only the wealth of other nations or victory in battle. They are a base and depraved people, promising much but delivering only destruction. Too long I have lived among those who hate peace. I am devoted to peace, but when I speak, they are for war.”

  John sensed the power Devia was exerting over everyone in the room. Still Devia droned on. “There are strong reasons to oppose war, such as loss of life, broken families, thwarted business, and orphaned children. Young women will suddenly find themselves widows, and society will begin to crumble.”

  The room remained silent, but Devia went on. “The economy will suffer, factories will close, crops will remain in the fields, boats will remain at their moorings, and produce will cease to flow into villages and towns. Hunger and famine will appear. Fear will replace joy; want will replace plenty; despair will replace confidence! The wages of war are far too high. Besides, it does not solve man’s basic problem. We must learn to deal in a positive fashion with man’s great lust for power.”

  Devia stood tall and spoke with growing enthusiasm. “My friends, consider the futility of war. Grown men should be able to sit at table and reason together. In my study of the Holy Writings, I find that war is morally wrong. This, though I have listed it last, should be the most important reason to avoid the evil of war. Considering the Holy Writings, are we inspired to make peace or war? Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of the Divine. In another place it is stated, ‘They shall beat their swords into plowshares; and their spears into pruning hooks; and nation will not lift up sword against nation, neither will they learn war anymore.’ Also, when the believers in the garden drew their swords to save their Lord, Jesus said, ‘Put your swords away, for all who live by the sword will die by the sword.’”

  John had heard these arguments before. Everyone in the room had heard them, but Devia looked as if he had won a great debate, standing with his arms spread wide and a radiant glow upon his face. John cleared his throat. “Thank you, Master Devia. You have given us much to consider as we decide what we must do.”

  Devia glared at John. The two were at opposite ends of the table, locked in a battle of mind and spirit, but with firm resolve, John continued. “If peace could be achieved by talking, it would be far better than war. I would favor that approach, but no envoy has been sent, only troops.”

  “There you are uninformed,” Devia said, almost gloating. “There is a parley scheduled two days hence. The Lord Jabin will meet with your son James. This would not have been necessary if James had not declared Green Meadow a war zone precipitously, ordering the evacuation of my people from their homes. This order alone has brought untold hardship on families and has created a dangerous tension with his lordship, Jabin. I have sought to bring about peace through dialogue, not arms.”

  Jeff Cotter rose. “But you can’t possibly host that meeting, since you are here!”

  “I have made all the necessary arrangements, and my son, Samoth, will host the parley in my stead.”

  “Do you know the provisions Jabin has set forth in this parley?” Peter Simone asked hopefully.

  Devia continued to watch John as he addressed the group. “Gentlemen, Jabin is a generous and gifted man,” he said with a flourish. “He asks so little when befriending people. There are but three things he desires. First, that all nations have one governing body. They will retain their own identities, of course, being governed by appointed officials. These men would answer directly to the central government. Second, all communication would be carried by the government’s own couriers. This act will reduce the threat of war by intercepting subversive activity before it can spread. Third, commerce will be directed through the central government. This will open heretofore closed markets to your products!”

  Devia turned to Steele. “Your factories are the best known to man. Wouldn’t you like to ship your goods all over the world?” He turned to Coalman. “And you are sitting on rich coal and ore deposits. Wouldn’t your miners enjoy working the most coveted mining center in the world?”

  “Isn’t it just too good to be true?” blubbered Andre Barleyman. “Imagine my beer being marketed all over the world.”

  “Is that all?” Jeff Cotter asked. “There must be more restrictions than that?”

  “Is that all?” boomed George Greenwold. “Isn’t that enough? Jabin clear
ly indicates his desire to control the entire world.”

  Unruffled by Greenwold’s outburst, Devia addressed Cotter’s question. “There are a few minor details to cut the risk of war.”

  “Such as?” asked Peter Simone.

  “All weapons will be banned. As indicated by the Holy Writings, swords shall be beaten into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks. Does this not fulfill the scriptures?”

  “Does this ban apply to everyone, or will some keep a sword while others are not allowed to defend themselves?” John asked coolly.

  Devia glared at Stafford. “Why do you ask that question? Are you afraid of tyranny? Are you afraid of people imposing their will upon you as you have imposed your will on others?”

  “Now, just a moment—” Greenwold began, but Devia cut him off.

  “If it’s not true, why is there a garrison of soldiers stationed in Green Meadow with James Stafford in their command?”

  The room fell silent.

  “There are other reasons for defending oneself besides tyranny,” Gammel said. “Thieves respect a well-armed man and leave him alone.”

  John watched as Devia turned on his charm. “Gammel, you are an astute man, but your fear is unfounded. Crime will likely disappear, for there will be no need. A tax will be levied on all goods and services, so the central government will have funds to care for the poor, the needy, widows, and orphans. Thus, with all needs met, crime will disappear.”

  Gammel frowned. “Most pirates at sea are not in need. They simply want to steal that for which another has labored. Providing for their needs would not eliminate their desire to obtain unmerited riches.”

  “There would be prisons for such people, though I guarantee that there are very few such men in the world,” Devia stated quickly. “Most crime is driven by need.”

  John noticed the smug look on Devia’s face as he continued. “It is imperative that all men learn new and better ways to live. Prosperity and peace are attainable, if men work together.”