Christmas in Montora (The Chronicles of Montora Book 4) Read online

  Martin Boodles stepped up to Franklin. “A nice day for it, Margrave.” He nodded to Signe. “Margravina.”

  “Major.”

  Franklin said, “Indeed. I've been looking forward to this.”

  With the arrival of the Margrave and his wife, the crowd drifted to order. Yasmin Gris stepped up on to the platform and began to speak. Her voice carried, and the people quickly quieted.

  “Thank you for coming this afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We are here to dedicate the statue created for us by Mr. Doug Jung. This is a project all of us contributed to, and we are excited at the unveiling. Margrave?”

  Franklin stepped up on the platform and moved over next to the mayor.

  “Thank-you, Madam, Mayor. This is an exciting day for all of us. I was a little surprised when Father Riggs approached me about the idea you all had worked on. I am delighted that you have made this happen, and I think my mother would have approved as well.”

  He paused as he looked around.

  “There is a bittersweet quality to this day as well. I know you all loved my mother, as did I. Sometimes we are captive to events, and there is nothing we can do, except recognize the hand of God in ultimately working things to His pleasure. I wish she was here today, as I am sure you do as well. But we honor her memory, and I am honored you have done so.”

  The audience was stone silent as he spoke. He watched the villagers as he spoke. They watched him, but he could see their eyes drifting to the form that was under the tarp.

  “I do not plan on speaking all afternoon.” A mutter of laughter formed an undercurrent in the square. “In fact, my mother had little patience with those with an inability to come to the point.” The laughter was louder now.

  Franklin looked down into the crowd. “Mr. Jung, would you come up here?”

  The oriental stepped onto the platform, looking uneasy.

  “I want to introduce Mr. Doug Jung. Mr. Jung created the magnificent piece that is in the church garden, here in the village. When this project developed, he was the logical choice to do all the hard work. I have seen the scale models of the statue and was wonderfully impressed. I have not seen the finished product. So you and I both will see it for the first time. Thank you, Mr. Jung, for your efforts.”

  Jung blushed as he nodded.

  “I'm going to ask Father Riggs to come up and offer a prayer of dedication.”

  The group was quiet as Tracy Riggs made his way to the platform. He had dressed in his clerical garments for the presentation, something he normally saved for Sundays. He looked around the plaza and cleared his throat.

  “I have witnessed many events here in the village. I have officiated the Christening of many of you. It has also fallen to me to preside over the funerals. Seeking God's blessing on these activities today, though, is a high honor. While the death of Wendy Nyman was tragic. God has used it to bring many to the faith. I believe her memory will inspire us as we continue building our margraviate, and we serve Him. Let us pray.”

  Franklin listened as Riggs spoke. Dodged that one well, Father. And I wonder if I will see Mother in heaven. There is no evidence that will be the case, but I know Antonia Riggs spoke often to her about her soul. I guess that's something I must leave in the Lord's hands.

  Riggs launched into his prayer. It was short, fervent, and to the point. Riggs was not a long-winded man. He usually managed to get through his Sunday homilies without inducing narcolepsy, and still put a punch into the sermons that people thought about what he had said. After he finished, Franklin stepped forward again.

  “Thank you, Father Riggs. And now, I have asked the Margravina to do the honors.”

  Signe nodded and walked over to the dais. She nodded to the crowd and pulled the rope, which slipped the tarpaulin from the statue. On the dais stood a bronze Wendy Nyman, bending over slightly to receive a flower from a little girl. Jung a captured the moment from shortly before Wendy was murdered. It was an assassination, really. An employee of the deranged Guilietto Roma, the former Duke of Hepplewhite had shot her with a poisoned dart.

  When the tarpaulin dropped, there were several gasps, followed by dead silence. Franklin had been watching carefully to see the reaction of the villagers. The scale models of the sculpture were breath-taking. The power of the full-sized edition was gripping. Several of the women began weeping. One man began slowly clapping, and the rest of the crowd picked it up. The applause quickly crescendoed and continued for several minutes. Franklin wiped the tears from his face, and stepped down, followed by Jasmin Gris, and Doug Jung.

  CHAPTER SIX

  "We got a problem, boss," Alex said.

  "I don't think I like the sound of that," Franklin said. "In fact, I probably ought to correct you - we've got another problem."

  "Yes, Sir. I think Even-Steven talked to somebody before his little prospecting trip."

  Franklin leaned back in his chair and scanned his office in the keep. "Now, I know I don't want to hear about this."

  "You don't. It looks like we have a small village camped out along the river. And they're all digging and panning. I suggested to them it would be wise to move on and they laughed at me."

  "And what did you do then?"

  The Guard Captain frowned. "There were about a hundred of them and only one of me. I came back for reinforcements."

  "That was a good decision, Alex," Franklin said. He tapped a couple of buttons on his display screen and picked up his comm.

  "This is the Margrave. Let me talk to Major Boodles, please."

  Major Martin Boodles commanded the Montoran camp of the Baltic Regiment - a mercenary company commanded by Colonel Otto Putin. When the regiment's home camp had been expelled from its base on New Prussia, Putin had reached an agreement with Franklin's father, Frank Nyman, to base at Montora Village. In return, the regiment would provide security for the Margraviate.

  "Good morning, Margrave," Boodles' voice came from the comm.

  "Not so far, Martin," Franklin said. "We have a situation."

  Boodles grew serious. "How can we help, Margrave?"

  "Alex just came in with a report that there is a group of illegal prospectors panning in the Moody River downstream of here. It's more than the castle guard can handle."

  "Define more," Boodles said.

  "As in a hundred, or so."

  "Okay, Margrave. Let me roll out the quick response team."

  "Good. Thanks, Martin. It may take some persuasion. I'll be out there too."

  "Are you sure that's wise, Margrave?" Boodles asked. "You may need deniability."

  "You'd better hope I don't need deniability, Martin. I would like to know why this popped up all of a sudden."

  "I understand," Boodles replied. "Let me get the team rolling. Let's talk again before we get out there."

  "Sure thing. Thanks, Martin."

  After Boodles disconnected, Franklin looked up at Nesmith. "Alright, Alex. Let's go warm up the aircar."

  Franklin stepped into the hallway and met Signe.

  "What's going on, Franklin?"

  "We've got a whole load of prospectors downstream of us on the river. I've got Martin rousting the quick response team to meet me there."

  "Where are these people coming from?" she asked. "It's like they came out of nowhere."

  "That's what I'm wondering too, Precious."

  "I want to come along."

  "Sorry, Signe," Franklin said. "Alex said they were belligerent. It might get dangerous. I don't want you out there."

  "I can take care of myself, Franklin," she said.

  "I agree," he replied. "But I don't want to worry about you if things come unglued."

  "You sound like it will."

  "I am concerned it might. Please stay here."

  He stepped past her and headed for the stairwell; Alex followed.

  "What should we pick up from the armory?" the guard captain asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Certainly, Margrave, we need something to protect
you.”

  "No, Alex. I don't want to provoke things any more than they are already."

  Two of the other guardsmen had rolled the aircar out of the stables and had it idling as Alex and Franklin came out of the lower level of the keep. They climbed into the back and the other two climbed in front. The guardsman at the controls lifted the car off. Franklin's comm trilled.

  "Nyman."

  "This is Major Boodles. Is that you in the aircar, Margrave?"

  "Yes, Major. We just lifted off."

  "Right. We are lifting now."

  "Very good, Major. I want to make an orbit of the site and get a feel for what's going on. Then we can land and confer before confronting these people."

  "Understood, Margrave."

  South of the village, the forest closed in on the Moody River. The aircar and the following shuttle flew at five-hundred feet over the tumbling rapids of the river. They swept around a curve in the river and flew over an area where the stream widened and smoothed out. On either side, the forest opened into an open glade. On both banks of the river, a group of men worked at digging in the soil and dumping baskets of material into wooden sluices. Many of them looked up and waved as the aircraft flew overhead.

  “It looks they're having a picnic,” Franklin said.

  Alex shook his head. “If I had stayed around, I would have been the barbecue.”

  Franklin pointed to a spot several hundred yards away from the workers, and the guardsman set the aircar down gently. Another fifty yards beyond them, the Baltic Regiment shuttle eased to the ground.

  "Let's go, Alex," Franklin said, as he popped open the door of the aircar. They walked over to the shuttle, which was now disgorging its cargo of regimental soldiers. Major Martin Boodles stepped up to Franklin.

  "Margrave, the quick reaction team is at your service," Boodles said. “We are loaded for both combat, and crowd control.”

  "Thank you for getting here so quickly, Major. By crowd control, a assume you have darts and sleepy gas.”

  “Yes, Margrave. I wasn't sure what to expect.”

  “I see. Here is the way we will do this: Alex and I will move to the bank of the river and try to identify the leadership of this group. I would like your people to assume a standard formation for this type of event and get behind me."

  "I am not comfortable with you being out in front like that, Margrave," Boodles said. "If this gang gets rowdy, you would be in an exposed position."

  "Can't be helped, Major. If they get rowdy, as you say, Alex and I will scurry back out of the way. I'm rather attached to my skin, don't you know."

  Boodles sighed. "I get nervous when you lead from the front, Margrave. This is really my job."

  "No, Major, this is my territory, I have to get out in front."

  "Major," called one of the sergeants. "that group is getting purposeful."

  Boodles looked over at the prospectors. The panning had stopped, and the people were trying to unobtrusively pick up tools and clubs.

  "Margrave," said Boodles, "I really don't want you out front. This is looking less good by the minute."

  "Sorry, Major, this is the way it must be done. Let's get over there before they decide to take the initiative."

  "They may have already, Sir."

  "I read you," Franklin said as he and Alex began walking towards the group.

  Boodles turned toward the Baltic troops. "Sergeant, have the people lock and load. This is going to get ugly."

  "Sir!" the sergeant said. He turned to the troops and issued the necessary orders, and the troop quick-marched to catch up with Franklin.

  "Is this smart, Sir?" Alex asked as they waded through the knee-high grass.

  "Alex!" Franklin said out of the corner of his mouth. "Where is your trust?"

  Nesmith snorted at the response. "Right, Sir. I have gotten to know you over the past year."

  "Just pay attention, Alex. I've got a bad feeling about this one."

  Captain Alensa Spillman sat at the controls of the drone. She was sitting in the comfort of the Operations Building at Montora Base while the drone orbited over the group of prospectors along the river. Alensa was a forty-year veteran of the Baltic Regiment - she actually was a member of the team before Otto Putin had purchased it. She had only recently come to the Montora Base after the colonel had reluctantly decided it was time to override her refusals to retire.

  She had mixed emotions about coming to Montora. The Baltic Regiment was her life. She resented the gradual decline of abilities that the aging process took from her. Medical technology would extend her life for another fifty or sixty years but could not completely prevent the gradual aging process. Alensa had really wanted to stay with the team. But she was enough of a realist to recognize there was nothing she could do about it and tried to make the best of the situation. There were two compensating benefits to the change, however. One, she really enjoyed working for Martin Boodles. He was a good leader and a fine man. Secondly, she was now dating one of the villagers, and was, for the first time in her life, giving her attention and affections to something other than the Regiment.

  Alensa keyed the comm link to the Quick Reaction Force. "Major, the miners are picking up weapons."

  "Details, please," came the clipped response.

  "Looks like clubs and ax handles, Sir. No edge, or projectile weapons spotted as yet."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant. Keep me posted."

  "Will do, Sir."

  She turned to the non-com sitting next to her. "Corp, go ahead and activate the weapons console."

  Corporal Ted Brey typed a password into the keyboard and studied the status displays. "Okay, weapons are alive, Captain. Let me warn you that Major Boodles has not given authorization."

  "I read you, Corp."

  They continued watching the situation on the ground.

  Franklin and Alex came to a stop in front of the gathered grouping. Things were very quiet for a few moments.

  "Does anyone wish to speak for the group?" Franklin asked quietly.

  A burly miner stepped out. “Don't reckon we need anyone to speak for us. We's just mindin' our own business here. What business do you have?”

  Franklin looked the prospector up and down calmly and carefully. Franklin over-topped him by five or six inches, but this man was much broader.

  “Where are you from, Mister?” Franklin asked, again quietly.

  “Don't know what business if is of yours, but I be from down Woods Crossing way.”

  “Then surely you saw the announcement that there was no mining in this territory without a permit from the Margrave.”

  “Don't pay no attention to fancy announcements and such,” the man said. “Be you expectin' to do something about it?”

  “I will if I have to,” Franklin replied. “You are violating the law by trespassing here. You need to pack up and leave.”

  “Well, we heard there was rich pickings here, boy. I don't think there's anybody going to stop us from doing what we came to do.”

  “You may want to think twice about messing with me,” Franklin said, still quietly. His eyes smoldered as he spoke.

  “Ha! You and a few old men playing soldier? I think you will want to go away pretty soon, now.” The prospector had menace in his voice, now.

  “Major!” Franklin called out.

  “Yes, Margrave?” Boodles called back in a clear voice.

  “You know what to do?”

  “Yes, Margrave.”

  Franklin looked at Alex. “Let's step back so they can be about their business.”

  Franklin and Alex began to move back as the regimental group moved forward. A rifle shot rang out, and one of the regimental soldiers grunted as he spun around and fell.

  The drone controllers at Montora Base watched the activity as it was transmitted from the device hovering five-hundred feet above the melee. The puff of smoke and the glint of the weapon showed them where the shot had come from.

  “There's a rifle,” Captain Spillman
said. “He just fired on our troops. Take him out, Corp!”

  “Roger, Captain,” Brey said. He moved the targeting reticule on the screen so that it locked onto the man at the rear of the group with the rifle. He then punched the red button on the console.

  Franklin heard a loud bang from above him, and a man at the back of the prospectors' group threw his rifle into the air and pitched to the ground screaming. And he continued with a piercing scream.

  Boodles keyed his voice pickup to a set of speakers on his combat harness. “Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air! Now!”

  The volume of sound caused Franklin and Alex both to jump. The prospector in the front looked around at his group.

  “Let's go get'em, boys!”

  With a roar, the prospectors launched themselves at the Baltic Regiment. Franklin now heard Boodles over the command circuit through his earbug.

  “Regiment! Single shot. On the count: ready, aim, Fire!”

  Franklin spun around to countermand the order, but before he could speak, a fusillade rang out. At least a dozen of the prospectors fell. The others halted, threw down their clubs and put their hands in the air.

  “Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Franklin screamed. “Cease Fire!”

  “Cease Fire,” came Boodles' clipped command.

  Franklin turned back around to look at the carnage. It looked like eight or ten men lay on the ground unmoving. Five or six others flopped around, screaming.

  “All right, people,” Boodles said, “round them up. Medic! Tend to the wounded.”

  A white-faced Franklin strode over to Boodles.

  “Major, what were you thinking, firing off live rounds? I thought you said you had darts.”

  “Margrave, when they opened fire on my people, they changed the ROE.”

  “I gave you the rules of engagement! Look at the mess we have now.”

  Boodles turned white. “My first priority is protecting you and my people.”

  “Major, our first priority is protecting the margraviate. Heaven knows what will happen when word of this gets out.”

  “And with all of us dead, how would that be protecting the margraviate?”

  Franklin shook his head and surveyed the area once again.