The Village King (9 page)

S
tephen
listened from
the
kitchen. He could hear a young girl’s voice. It was Karen, talking to Alana as
the younger girl got ready for bed. Despite not hearing any actual words, it
was good to hear Karen’s voice for once coming from the other room. Alana said
something in reply and then called out, “Stephen?”

He walked through to the front
room. Karen was lying on the couch, under the blankets while Alana kneeled to
the side, stroking the girl’s hair. In the firelight, she looked beautiful as
she smiled at him. “Karen would like to give you something.”

Silently, and without looking at
him, Karen held up a soft sheet of paper. Found in a box under the sofa, along
with some crayons and pencils, the paper had a drawing on it. After an
encouraging look from Alana, Stephen took the paper from Karen. He looked at it
and his heart melted. Karen had drawn herself and a horse. It was the drawing as
if done by a much younger child; green grass along the bottom of the sheet and
a strip of blue for the sky. Unmistakable though was a man and woman to the
left of the horse; he and Alana. Underneath, in a childish scrawl was written
“thank you” copied from more grown up letters above it.

“Thank you very much, Karen,” he
said. “You are very welcome. May I keep this picture?”

Still not looking at him, Karen
turned away and made like she was sleeping. Alana spoke for her. “Yes, keep it.
Maybe put it on the fridge.”

Before he left the room, he told
Karen it was a very good picture and went through to the kitchen. The manse was
otherwise empty with Phil and Gary pulling a night duty guarding the soldiers, who
had their boots and coats returned to them. In the morning, the soldiers would
begin trenches around the village by day and patrol the perimeter at night. All
would be organised into shifts, in the belief that keeping the men busy kept
them disciplined and out of trouble. Stephen had already put the fear of God
into them and a first night in a draughty church would help.

A small wood fire burned in a pot
perched on the electric stove. Using it for light, he found the fridge where a
couple of magnets held old notes. Stephen rearranged the magnets, stuck the drawing
up, and thought of another picture which had once been made for him; Jack’s
painting of his Mum and Dad. Stephen had placed that other picture on another
fridge using different magnets.

Alana came in. He had made tea
and she poured herself a mug and slumped down on the chair. “Not many of these
tea bags left,” she said.

“Enjoy them while they last.”
Stephen leaned back as he tried to square the picture on the fridge. “I think
you’re taller than me in this picture.”

She chuckled softly and sipped at
the tea. He sat down across from and asked, “What do you make of our new
Colonel?”

“I think she’ll be fine. Lucy
Pullman will rise to the rank.”

Stephen sighed and looked at the
roof. “Three more deaths today,” he said finally.

She looked at him straight on.
Her tone was cold, like a clear mountain loch, but not without compassion. “Why
not kill them all?”

He shrugged and blew out a sigh.
He could feel regret building behind his eyes. “Same as Phil, I guess.”

“Yes, same as Phil,” she said, her
tone soft but insistent that he should listen and not just hear. “That night
you found us. He was one of the two who brought us up the road. I could tell he
was scared and didn’t want to be there. But he would have hurt us, Stephen. He
would have done what his friends wanted him to do.”

He felt his neck bend and his
head flopped over. She went on, “And those soldiers would have done the same
thing. Can you imagine what winter would have been like with them here and
Morgan in charge? And Rory? Me and Karen would not have waited to find out.”

Stephen breathed. “Morgan would
have kept them in line.”

“I doubt it,” she said quickly.
“I’ve locked all their gear in the police cell. But there isn’t much of it.
Sure, they’ve had access to a large cache of weapons and ammunition in the past,
but there’s not much left.”

“Really?” He was shocked.

“And how tough was Morgan,
really? How did we really take him out? Because of our superior training and
firepower? No, because he’d gotten soft and when his men ran out of ammo they
would have run out of discipline and this whole place would have gone up in
smoke.”

He knew she was right. “Can
Pullman keep discipline?”

“Maybe.” Alana sipped her tea
again. “You know she could have taken us out don’t you?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,”
agreed Stephen. “How did she slip away? To the toilets for crying out loud. And
then she just walked round the corner.”

“So why didn’t she just shoot
you?” Alana asked but he guessed she knew the answer.

“She wanted the Colonel out the
way?”

“Maybe, but maybe she just wanted
to be a soldier again. Even if you were going to kill her, she wanted to go out
with her boots on.”

Stephen thought about that and
tried to understand the implication. “So, we keep on her good side.”

“No. You,” said Alana, pointedly,
“you keep her in line.”

M
orning
arrived with
Phil
and Gary entering the house, after guarding the soldiers all night. Cold and
tired, they slumped down in the kitchen. Stephen came in after them and asked
them how they were.

Gary yawned. “We’re fine. We’ve
left Charlie looking after them. But two of them cleared off in the night.”

“Two of the soldiers?”

“Yeah,” said Phil. “I took them
outside for a piss and they just legged it.”

Stephen paused. “What did you
do?”

Phil looked at Gary. They both
looked worried. Gary said, “We just let them go. No point shooting them. They
never took anything with them.”

“And they just ran towards the
trees,” Phil added.

“Okay,” said Stephen. “Right
decision.” The two boys grinned at each other as Stephen started to fix some
breakfast.

Stephen went out to inspect the troops. The soldiers
were lined up and standing to attention. Newly promoted Colonel Pullman walked
alongside, her rifle stowed somewhere in the church. Behind them, in the manse’s
large garden, Alana was running a horse in a circle while Karen bobbed happily
on its back. The men glanced warily at each other out the corner of their eyes
but they did their best to concentrate on standing to attention. Gary and Phil
fell in behind Stephen and Pullman. Charlie and Vincent had been let go but
they hung back at the burnt-out hall, observing.

Stephen stood and faced them. There
were five now. Weak sunshine, diffused by a thin high cloud, warmed their
shoulders. They looked tough and weathered. At least they could consolidate the
ammunition, thought Stephen. He waited a moment before speaking.

“Good morning, men. My name is
Stephen Arnott. Last night, Davis and Anderson deserted. Today, you have the
same choice. Leave now, with the clothes on your back. Like they did.”

Stephen waited. Eyes swivelled amongst
the ranks, looking at what the others might do. He went on, “Or stay. You will
work, you will train, and you will do your duty. Eventually, you will have your
weapons back. You can hunt for food and you can defend this village.”

He waited again. Turning to
Pullman, he asked, “Do these men agree, Colonel Pullman?”

In full Sergeant mode, Pullman
yelled out, “You heard the man. Do you agree?”

“Yes, sir!” they shouted in
unison.

Stephen nodded to Pullman. She
called out the order to stand at ease and the men complied. Leaving Gary and
Phil where they were, Stephen went to the head of the line. Pullman walked with
him. At the first man, Stephen asked firmly, “Name?”

The soldier swallowed. “Talbot,
sir.”

“Where you from, Talbot?”

“Wolverhampton, sir.”

Stephen smiled at the corner of
his mouth. “How’s the Wanderers doing this season?”

Without missing a beat, Talbot
answered Stephen’s question about a football team who, of course, hadn’t existed
for years, “Terrible, sir. Haven’t won a game.”

Some of the men sniggered and one
openly laughed. Pullman shouted, “Hold your line!” They straightened their
backs and stopped laughing. However, their reactions to both the joke and
Pullman pleased Stephen. It showed him they had some morale and the potential
for discipline.

“You up for defending this
village, Talbot?” Stephen asked.

Talbot twisted narrow eyes to
look at Stephen. “Hell yes, sir.” He had spoken quietly and convincingly. He
held the look for a moment before focusing his eyes back forward.

Stephen moved across the line and
had similar discussions with Moore, Gibson, O’Neill, and Mills. He went back to
facing them. “Your first order is feeding the horses. Your second order is to
set up some defences for the village.”

Stephen looked to Pullman. She
nodded and ordered Talbot to lead the men to the lower part of the village
where they would find what they needed. Ironically, Stephen had told her, there
was plenty of feed now there were only a few cows left. The men were dismissed
and double-timed it down the road past the cattle-grid. Stephen nodded to Gary
and Phil who fell back quietly to go the other way and observe what the
soldiers actually did.

Left alone with Pullman, Stephen
asked her, “You up for this task, Colonel?” He was wondering if she had any
lingering animosity over her commanders being killed.

She grinned. “Hell yes, sir.” Her
eyes crinkled up and she seemed genuinely happy.

Reassured, he asked her, “Any
thoughts about ditches?”

She nodded eagerly. She beckoned
him to move with her to the grassy pathway which led out the village. The gate
of twisted scrap metal stood quietly. Pointing up the road a bit, she said, “I
think we should dig a trench from there and bring it to the bend in the road.”

Stephen followed her gesture as
it arced out, passing Gareth’s gate, until it met the road further down. “A big
ditch.”

“It’s the right thing to do. Any
horses running at it would be greatly impeded.”

“And our horses?” He emphasised
how the horses belonged to them all and not just the soldiers.

“I’ve thought about that,”
Pullman said. She stepped back a bit to demonstrate better. She held up her
hands in front of Gareth’s scrap-yard gate. “We take this apart and rebuild it
as a proper gate. Make it easy for our horses to get out and harder for others
to get in.”

Stephen nodded agreement. “What
about your men?”

Pullman rearranged her feet until
she was square on him. “I’ll keep them in line. I’ll need a Sergeant and
implement a night patrol.”

Stephen could see what she was
thinking. “Engineering through the day and discipline through the night.”

“Indeed, sir,” said Pullman.

“Your Sergeant?”

“Probably Talbot,” she said, “But
I’ll make them all seek it on merit.”

“Competition?” said Stephen.

“Commitment and loyalty,” she
corrected.

Stephen nodded again and
appraised this capable woman. He held out a hand. Surprised at first, she took
it and they shook agreement. He said, gesturing at the proposed trench, “We’ll
involve the whole village in this.” Over at the hall, Charlie nudged Vincent
and they headed back down the high street.

S
tephen
called everyone
together. Gary and Phil came in from a day on the ditches. Alana and Karen had
been tending the horses. They waited on Stephen to speak. He had spent the day
with Charlie, having walked round the village, from the ditch works to the
distillery. Inspecting the warehouses, which remained locked and secure, they
talked about the set-up of the council. A few days previously, the villagers
had decided on a council of four people, with two judges. Soldiers wouldn’t be
able to vote.

“It’s time to plan out what we’re
doing next,” he said finally.

Gary frowned. “What do you mean?
It’s all under control.”

“We’re about to elect a council,”
explained Stephen. Gary shrugged; he knew this. “And once they get a grip of
decisions they’ll want to take control of things.”

“So, we don’t let them,” said
Gary. When he didn’t get a sympathetic response, he looked to Alana. She
remained quiet, having already discussed this with Stephen. Karen sat quietly,
watching the exchange intently. Gary slumped back in his seat.

Stephen leaned forward. He spoke
quietly. “We need an exit strategy. If things turn against us, we need to be
sure what we are going to do.”

“Things won’t turn against us,”
said Gary. “Look at what we’ve done for everyone.”

“People are already complaining
about having to dig the trench,” said Alana.

“That’s true,” said Phil. “I’ve
heard it.”

“That won’t go on forever. The
ditch will only take so long.” Gary was dismissive.

Stephen put a hand on his arm.
“Watch what happens after the vote tonight. You’ll see.”

Gary was caught by the thought.
He relaxed. “Okay. What do we do? I mean, you’re asking, but you two have
already decided.” He moved his gaze between Stephen and Alana, who glanced at
each other. Phil looked at his hands on the table. Karen stood beside Alana.

Stephen said, “After the vote,
you and Phil go to the bunker. Make sure it’s secure. Leave in the dark. Come
back in the dark.”

Gary looked again from Stephen to
Alana. There was hostility in his eyes. “What will you do?”

“We’ll carry on like nothing is
the matter,” Alana answered evenly. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

“Now why would you say that?”
Gary said, raising his voice. “I never even thought that.”

“Settle down, Gary.” Phil tried
to reason with him. He placed a hand on Gary’s shoulder.

“Get off,” Gary shouted and stood
up. His chair scraped along the floor. He stormed out. Phil went after him.