The Long March - You Say You Want a Revolution?

(Source)

"Why are we stopping?" The Eminence was growing increasingly nervous as so far his carriage was making almost no progress at all towards the river docks. He was beginning to wonder if the captain had received the messenger sent telling him to prepare to get underway at a moment's notice.

"Your Eminence, the street ahead is blocked. I can see armed men and from what I can see, they aren't Imperials or regulars." The captain of the Eminence's mounted escort was trying to control his own nerves and having the Eminence barking at him wasn't helping.

"Can't you push them aside?"

"Sir, we are outnumbered."

"Oh come now, they're rabble and you know it." The Eminence decided to climb down from the carriage and see for himself.

"Your Eminence, please wait ..."

The captain's horse reared up, spooked by something. The captain was trying to control his mount, wondering what had gotten into the animal when a second arrow whirred in. This time the rider was struck, not the horse.

"Eminence, flee ..." was all the captain managed to say before he fell from his horse into the street.

The Eminence froze at the sight of the commander of his escort lying on the ground, a rebel arrow protruding from his midsection. He was halfway out of the carriage, his foot on the step, he hesitated.

Looking around he noticed that his escort was gone, even the driver of his carriage and the two footmen who rode on the back had fled. He was alone and from the shouts coming from the direction of the roadblock, the carriage had been noticed.

"Major?"

The Major turned to his Sergeant, "What is it, Top?"

"Just a thought, Sir. But why don't we send one of the troopers who know this area on ahead, on horseback? See if he or she can get a read on what's going on along the border."

The Major thought for a moment as he continued to march, "That ain't a bad idea, I'm betting you already have a couple of people in mind."

"Yes Sir. There's Jeremiah, he'd be my first choice. He's from a small village a couple of miles from the garrison. He's only been in the regulars a year or so, so he hasn't lost his regional accent yet. The other troopers call him the river rat because of that."

"Anyone else?"

"Hannah 312.¹ She's from Garrison Town herself. She's been in longer so she's lost a lot of her accent, but she can still put it on when she wants to. She's a better rider than Jeremiah."

"Which one would you send?"

"Jeremiah, he can ride a horse alright, not as good as Hannah 312, but he's competent. Hannah'd get there quicker but she doesn't know the country as well as Jeremiah. So I'd send him. I've already talked to both of 'em, they're willing."

"If we had two horses ..."

The Corporal cocked an eyebrow at her commander, "But we don't, just the one horse. Your horse. Do you mind letting it go on this mission?"

The Major nodded, "Send Jeremiah. As for the horse, have him take good care of her, I've grown fond of the animal."

"Will do, boss."

Daniel had left only a score of his people to shadow the regulars on the road, he'd left Asher in charge, trusting in his old friend's judgement and common sense. The bulk had followed him towards the border. Mounted scouts had been sent ahead to determine what was happening at the garrison. With any luck he should hear back from those scouts no later than the morrow. He expected to have a sizeable force within striking distance of the border within a few days, four at the most.

Daniel had been ambivalent about fighting this rebellion from the very first day. He understood most folks' grievances with the central government, they levied more and more taxes and the people in the rural areas got less and less benefit from those taxes. As his son had said, "Damn it, Pa, all the money goes to those city folk who don't want to work. Plenty of jobs out in the country but ..."

He remembered that the discussion had gotten nowhere. His son wanted to work the farm when his parents had passed on, the life suited him. But more and more young folk headed to the cities when they came of age. They wanted no part of the hard work farming required. The siren call of the city lured them away. Where they discovered that there were more people than jobs.

He was also suspicious of the results of the last election. One of his neighbors insisted that it was a "pretend" election, that the former Ruler had actually won, but his opponent "stole" it. Daniel understood his neighbor's suspicions, but he believed that they lived in a nation of laws. So how could the election possibly be invalid?

When a rural village, not far from the capital, stopped paying taxes to protest the election, the newly formed Imperials descended upon them. Many felt they deserved it, after all, hadn't they broken the law?

But the Imperials went berserk, slaughtering livestock, burning crops, and destroying buildings. They left nothing for the villagers to survive on. When the village headman had protested, they took him and his family into custody. They were conveyed in chains to the capital.

That very night, an Imperial patrol was ambushed outside the capital, an Imperial was slain, two were wounded. So the nearest village was razed, the inhabitants butchered. Daniel decided at that point that his neighbor might be right. What legitimate government would do such a thing?

So he took his family into the hills.

Jeremiah had ridden through the night, the Major's horse was exhausted. He dismounted and brushed the animal down. He decided that both man and beast needed a rest. So they found a covered area, inside the forest, and spent the day resting.

As night fell, they were on the road again.

The further south they went, Jeremiah noted the empty villages. No one was upon the road, but there was no sign of an enemy, only emptiness.

Two hours before dawn, he reined in the horse. To the south there was a great glow in the sky. He had heard tell from the old-timers in the regulars of such things, burning cities seen from afar, the campfires of a vast army nearby. He quickened his pace.

As the eastern sky grew lighter, he turned the horse into the forest, he knew a path which would take him to a high point on a ridge above Garrison Town. Perhaps there he would be able to tell what was afoot.

"Rider coming in," the militiaman hissed at her companion.

Their own horses were tied up not far away, here, they could look down into the borderlands. Garrison Town smoldered, it had been set alight when the Meridionals had launched their first assault at the garrison, which lay adjacent to the town.

But the walls of the citadel were not so easily breached. The inhabitants of Garrison Town were now within the citadel, assisting the garrison in any way they could. The field was quiet now, the two militiamen realized that, if they were closer, the moans and shrieks of the Meridional wounded would fill the air.

The man nudged the woman, there, a regular on horseback. When that man saw that he was too close, he dismounted, led the horse back a ways then tied it to a tree.

Before going back to the crest, he stroked the horse's muzzle as he reached into his haversack. He produced a quartered apple, which he fed to the beast, then he whispered something. Stepping back, he turned. He was looking down the muzzles of two rifles.

"You have me at your mercy, troopers. I yield."

The female militiaman spoke, "A long way from home, aren't you bluebelly?²"

"That I am, is it true that the Meridionals have come across the border?"

The male militiaman snorted, "No, your own troops decided to attack themselves."

The female hissed at her companion, "Shut up, Hezekiah. We might have a common enemy here, not each other, but those Meridional bastards down there. Go ahead bluebelly, take a look." She gestured with her rifle.

Jeremiah got low and approached the crest, he said one word, "Bastards."

Hezekiah, after seeing the bluebelly in profile, asked him a question, "You got people round these parts?"

The woman started to speak.

"Easy Ruth, I think I know this bluebelly's family. You're from up the Four Corners, right? Your Pa was a farmer, killed by the Meridionals a couple years back, then your Ma sold the place, went to live in Garrison Town, right?"

Jeremiah walked back to the horse. "Who are you?"

"Hezekiah of the Greens, down by Burke's Crossing."

Jeremiah nodded, and surprising the two militiamen, extended a hand, "Jeremiah of the Icewaters, as you say, from Four Corners. Your family were kin to our neighbors, the Willows."

Hezekiah slung his rifle, shaking Jeremiah's hand. "'At's right, you went in the army a couple of winters back, said you didn't like town life."

Jeremiah smiled, "Well, I didn't, but I'll tell ya, army life ain't much better. Are ya gonna let me go back to my outfit? This is my Major's horse."

Ruth looked askance at Hezekiah, "What, and bring more regulars into the area?"

Jeremiah shrugged, "Those are my orders, we're the first element of a relief column, traveling light we are. But there are ten thousand men and women coming on behind us. We're to assist the garrison."

Ruth shook her head. "I don't much like it, but with those damned Meridional bastards across the way, I suppose we could use the help."

Jeremiah mounted the horse, "Thank you, perhaps we could fight them together."

Hezekiah chuckled, "Heck yeah, we can fight each other later. Cast the foreigners out and we can get back to our little family squabble."

Jeremiah smiled and headed back to the column. War makes for odd bedfellows, he thought as he headed out.

The Eminence had shed his cloak, dumping it on the floor of the carriage. Underneath he wore rough laborer's clothing. He made as if he was rummaging through the contents of a valise, his own, as a group of people from the roadblock approached.

"Hey, step away from there fellow, we don't cotton to thieves around here," said a rough voice.

Turning, the Eminence, with an accent far less refined than his usual speech, answered, "Not thievin', looking for whose carriage this be. And I found this."

It pained him to hold out his own sigil, painted on the side of his valise.

"Well, what have we here? That's the mark of that devil, the so-called Eminence."

The Eminence grimaced internally, but kept his expression neutral, "I believe it is. I saw some men run off that way," he gestured back towards the palace, "shortly after that fellow got shot off his horse," he said gesturing at the dead captain in the street.

"Damn, well, maybe you should come with us, our commander might want to have a word with you," one of the men said.

The Eminence knew that in better light, someone might recognize him, so he let his voice sound pleading as he said, "Ah, come on fellows, I was on my way home, down Mulberry Way. My wife's visiting her sister there, who's feeling a might poorly."

"Mulberry Way, huh? What's the sister's name?"

"Mary."

"Hell, half the women in the quarter are named Mary, but what the hell. You don't look like you mean any harm. Run along, make it fast, we've got patrols out. Now we know that the devil is on foot, maybe we can run the bastard down and hang him."

"Jesus, Will, you'd hang the fellow without a trial?"

"Nah Sir, I'd ask him, 'How do ya plead?', he'd say not guilty, I'd say you're guilty as hell, then sentence him to hang. That enough of a trial for ya?"

The first man laughed and said, "Fair enough, let's get back. As for you," he said pointing at the Eminence, "git, before I change my mind."

The palace was in chaos, half of the guardsmen had fled, shedding their uniforms and stealing civilian clothing from wherever they could. They also departed with a large amount of the palace's silver.

The Ruler was sound asleep, his wife was frantic, she called for a maidservant. There was no answer.

She stepped out of the bedchambers, a single guardsman was present, sitting in a chair drinking from a bottle of what appeared to be the Ruler's brandy.

"How dare you, you foul ..."

The guardsman turned, and leered, "Hhmm, ya ain't bad looking for an old broad. Come! Have a drink with me."

As he lurched to his feet, the Ruler's wife fled back into the bedchamber, bolting the door behind her.

The drunken guardsman banged on the door for a few minutes, then left. No doubt to seek comfort elsewhere.

The Ruler's wife sat heavily in a chair next to the bed. She began to shake and sob, she knew at that moment, that all things were coming to an end.

¹ Not everyone in this story has a family name that they use as an identifier. I plan on explaining some of the peoples, cultures, and customs of this world at some point. For now, suffice to say, most people only use their given names, When there are more people of that name in a unit (which is by no means rare) they use their given name and service number as an identifier. Rather like a Welsh regiment in the British Army. There are two Hannahs in the Major's battalion.

² Regular infantry wore blue tunics and gray trousers.