Chapter 26 — The Eastern Road

Chapter 26: Chapter 26 — The Eastern Road

Chapter 26 — The Eastern Road

The eastern gate had not opened in years.

Two stone pillars framed a passage choked with thornbushes, and beyond them the road disappeared beneath grass before it reached the trees. Walter cut through the last branch with his sword.

"Master Wren will complain about that," Christopher said.

Walter kicked the branch aside. "Then do not tell him."

Simon Atwood led the horses through the opening while Perrin followed with his bow already strung, though no arrow rested against it. Four Knight Apprentices came behind them: Simon, Thomas Reed, Nicholas Tanner and Martin Pike. Christopher recognized all four without searching the original body’s memories. That felt like progress.

Godfrey remained at Dragonwatch; Ivo had the outer watches, while Godfrey intended to inspect the gate repairs and make Christopher repeat the morning lesson when the patrol returned.

Walter looked over the group. "We follow the road for half a day. We don’t chase tracks into the forest. We don’t separate because someone sees a deer. If Perrin stops, everyone stops."

Perrin glanced at him. "What if I stop to piss?"

"Then everyone in the valley will know where the road begins."

Thomas laughed until Walter’s glare caught him.

They mounted outside the wall. Christopher’s horse picked its way around roots covering the old road, and cold air moved between the trees, though the eastern slope blocked the worst of the wind from the Frozen Wastes.

The first abandoned fields began less than a mile from Dragonwatch. Low stone walls divided land that had become meadow, young trees grew where crops once stood, and a collapsed shed leaned beside a ditch, its roof already on the ground. Farther south, three roofless houses faced an empty yard.

Christopher slowed near the first wall.

"Could we clear this road well enough for wagons?" he asked.

Perrin studied the trees. "Anything can be cleared."

"That tells me it is difficult, not whether it can be done."

"It is the answer people give when the lord has more workers than sense."

Walter made a sound that might have been a cough.

Perrin pointed toward the thicker growth. "Those trees are eight or ten years old. The roots will be worse than the eastern plots. Clear it when you need the land, not before."

Christopher had expected something like that; hearing it still removed several imaginary fields from his plans.

They dismounted at the ruined houses. Walter sent Simon and Martin around the eastern side while Perrin checked the yard. The doors had rotted away, and inside, broken furniture lay beneath fallen roof tiles, because someone had taken every piece of useful iron long ago.

Nicholas crouched beside a cold hearth. "No recent ash."

Perrin found old rabbit droppings and a fox den beneath one wall; the place had stood empty through the past season.

Christopher walked to the well. Its wooden cover had collapsed inward.

"Leave the burrow alone," Walter said. "We’re here to inspect the road."

"I was only looking inside it."

"Then look from farther away before something bites your hand."

Christopher stepped back.

They marked the place on the rough map Bennet had copied for the patrol. It showed the road, a stream and several groups of buildings, but not which bridges had fallen or which fields had returned to forest. At the bottom, an old surveyor had written that the eastern farms once held more than eighty households. The farms now stood abandoned.

The road climbed after the ruins. In several places rain had cut narrow channels through it, and Christopher noticed water gathering along the uphill edge and understood why the surface had washed away.

"A ditch there would help," he said.

Walter eyed the broken road. "Will you send people to dig it?"

"Not now. The gate and houses need the workers first."

"Then the road remains broken until those jobs are finished."

Christopher wrote a small mark beside the road anyway. He could understand slopes and drainage without knowing how many men it took to repair several miles of neglected track.

They crossed a narrow stream on foot. The old wooden bridge had fallen, but the water reached only to the horses’ knees, and Martin checked the far bank before the others followed.

Beyond the stream the trees changed: the trunks thinner and closer together, most straight enough for beams, though Perrin said the nearest stands had grown too quickly on wet ground.

"That would give us more green timber," Christopher said.

"All living trees are green timber," Perrin replied.

"I meant timber for the gate repairs."

Walter examined the trees. "They’re close enough to haul."

"Fresh wood will shrink and twist as it dries."

"Does that mean it cannot stop a man?"

"No. It means Owen will complain later."

"Owen already complains about the timber we bring him now."

Christopher marked the timber stand. It could provide rough beams, braces and temporary gate boards while better wood dried.

Perrin stopped near the top of the next rise, and everyone stopped with him. He pointed to a patch of soft ground beside the road, where a hoofprint pressed through the grass and another lay several paces ahead.

Simon dismounted and examined them without stepping close.

"A horse passed through here," he said.

"Two," Perrin corrected. "Perhaps three."

The prints followed the road west toward Dragonwatch, then near the rise turned south along a narrow track that did not appear on Bennet’s map.

"How old are the tracks?" Walter asked.

"After the last rain. Before this morning."

"Do you think the riders were bandits?" Christopher asked.

"Men on horses." Perrin considered the southern track. "Anything else is guessing."

Walter sent Simon and Thomas fifty paces along it while the others remained on the road with weapons ready. Christopher found his hand resting on Edmund’s sword.

The scouts returned within minutes.

"Tracks continue south," Simon said. "No camp. One broken branch. They did not try to hide their passing."

"We leave them," Walter said.

Christopher wanted to know who had ridden so close to Dragonwatch, but following an unknown group away from the road with only six armed men was still a poor way to find out.

"Mark the turn," he said. "We can send scouts another day."

They continued east. The road ended at a stone cutting.

At first Christopher mistook it for a low cliff, then saw the regular steps carved into the rock and the remains of a ramp descending between them. Brown water filled the bottom, reeds grew along its edges, and frogs disappeared beneath the surface as the horses approached.

"Quarry," Nicholas said.

Several squared blocks remained near the old ramp, moss covering their upper faces though the exposed stone beneath was dark and solid. Walter struck one with the pommel of his sword.

"Same stone as the outer wall."

Christopher dismounted. The quarry was wide enough to swallow Dragonwatch’s courtyard; rain and groundwater had turned its deepest section into a pond, and part of the eastern face had collapsed, leaving broken stone piled beneath it.

For a moment he saw repaired walls, a rebuilt gatehouse and enough cut stone for new houses. Then he saw the water, the collapsed ramp and the trees growing from cracks above the cutting.

"Can we use it?" he asked.

Walter shrugged. "Ask Owen."

Perrin threw a stick into the water; it floated near the reeds. "You can use the blocks already cut. The rest depends on how deep that is and whether the face still holds."

Christopher walked no closer to the edge. A flooded quarry was useful only if they could reach the stone without drowning workers or bringing half the slope down on them.

"We bring Owen and Robert next time," he said. "No one works here before they inspect it."

Nicholas took in the abandoned blocks. "We could take one now."

"On which wagon?" Walter asked.

They had brought no wagon. Nicholas looked away.

Perrin circled the upper rim while the others rested the horses, then returned carrying a strip of cloth caught on a thorn, faded brown wool torn along one edge.

"Recent?" Walter asked.

"It has not been through much rain."

They found a second sign near the old workers’ shelter, where someone had burned a small fire against the surviving wall. The ashes were wet on top but dry beneath, and two gnawed bird bones lay among them. The rooms held only dirt and broken wood.

"Could the fire have belonged to the riders?" Christopher asked.

"Maybe," Perrin said. "Could be a hunter on foot. Could be someone sheltering before the riders passed."

Christopher disliked answers that solved nothing. The north seemed built from them.

Walter studied the sky. "We turn back."

Before leaving, Simon and Martin raised a simple marker beside the road, using two stones from the cutting and a straight length of wood. Nicholas carved the Drake hawk into it with his belt knife. The mark was rough, but anyone following the road would understand that Dragonwatch was occupied again.

The return was slower. Walter stopped twice to look behind them, but the road stayed empty.

At the stream, Christopher noticed water cutting around one end of the ruined bridge, where the bank had begun to fall away beneath the old support.

"Did another drainage ditch cause the damage?" Walter asked.

"No. The stream needs a new bridge before wagons can use this road."

"Do you plan to build the bridge tomorrow as well?"

"I am learning not to answer questions like that."

Walter smiled.

They reached Dragonwatch before sunset. The sound of axes carried through the eastern gate. Cedric Palmer had finished the first barley section and moved several families to clearing the turnip plot, and Owen’s crew had set two large stones into the northwest breach.

Godfrey listened to the patrol report inside the gatehouse. He cared little about the abandoned houses and more about the horse tracks.

"Two or three riders came toward Dragonwatch, then turned south," Walter said. "They were not hiding their trail."

"Or knew the rain would hide it for them," Godfrey replied.

Christopher spread Bennet’s map on the table. "The southern track is here. We didn’t follow it."

"Good. We have enough unfinished work inside the walls."

Godfrey marked the place with charcoal. "Double the eastern watch tonight. Simon and Adam can examine the track tomorrow, no farther than a half-day ride."

"What should we do about the old quarry?" Christopher asked.

"The quarry will still be there when we have enough men to work it safely."

Owen arrived while they were speaking and studied the marked location, asking three questions Christopher could not answer: how high the exposed face stood, whether water entered from a spring, and what condition the ramp was in.

"I said you would need to inspect it," Christopher told him.

"At least the broken wagon taught you that much."

"There is already cut stone."

"Then we may take the cut stone. We don’t drain a quarry while the gate has no doors."

Christopher checked the timber mark on the map. "The eastern stand is close enough for hauling."

Owen nodded. "Fresh wood."

"I know it will warp."

"Then you also know I will complain."

Walter leaned against the wall. "We discussed that."

Owen folded the map before Christopher could add another project to it. Tomorrow a cutting crew would take only what the temporary gate required; the quarry, road and bridge would wait.

Outside, darkness settled over the eastern road. The new marker stood several miles away beside the flooded cutting.

Christopher had found fields, timber, stone and water, and none of it was ready to use. He was beginning to understand that land and wealth were not the same thing.

The first tree fell shortly after sunrise, striking the ground hard enough to shake water from the nearby branches. The cutting crew waited until the leaves stopped moving before approaching with axes.

Christopher stood well away from them. Owen Wren had made the proper distance clear after Christopher asked whether another tree should be cut from the opposite side.

"You can decide how many we take," Owen had said. "You won’t decide where they fall."

Perrin had marked six straight trees from the eastern stand. Four would provide the main beams and heavy boards for Dragonwatch’s temporary gate; the remaining two were meant for braces, pegs and replacements if the first pieces split.

Walter guarded the cutting crew with four Knight Apprentices — two watched the road while the others walked the edge of the trees. The tracks found yesterday had given Godfrey no reason to forbid the work, but enough reason to send armed men.

Christopher helped strip small branches until Owen took the axe from him.

"Your hands are slowing the men who actually know where the branches should fall."

"I know how to cut branches without standing beneath them."

Owen turned the axe around and showed him a shallow mark on the handle where Christopher’s last swing had landed.

"You know where the branches are. Owen knows where they will fall."

Christopher surrendered the work.

The trunks were too heavy for men to carry whole, so the carpenters cut them into shorter lengths and used the oxen to drag them toward Dragonwatch. Fresh sap gathered along the cuts, mud clung to the bark, and the trail behind each log deepened as they went.

By midmorning, four trunks lay inside the outer gate.

Master Barlow checked the iron straps prepared at the forge. Most had been hammered from salvaged hinges, stable fittings and pieces taken from condemned doors, and none matched. Owen arranged them on the ground and selected the strongest for the hinge side.

"How long will this gate last?" Christopher asked.

Barlow shrugged. "Depends how often someone tries to break it."

"I mean how long it lasts if nobody attacks it."

"Longer than the temporary barrier. The timber will still warp as it dries."

Owen rolled one of the trunks with his boot. "The wood will dry. It will shrink around the pegs and pull against the straps. Some boards will twist."

"Can we prevent the timber from warping?"

"We can season it properly and wait most of a year before hanging the doors."

Christopher looked through the open gateway toward the road. "We can’t leave the gate open for a year."

"Then we hang it now and repair it when the wood begins to move."

That settled the matter.

The carpenters split the shorter logs with wedges and heavy mallets, slower than sawing proper boards, but their largest saw needed teeth replaced. Each rough plank came away thick, uneven and wet.

Christopher knelt beside the first gate frame, where two horizontal beams held the boards together. Owen placed a third piece diagonally across them.

"Cross-bracing would keep the doors from twisting as badly," Christopher said.

Owen turned to him. "A brace."

"I was about to suggest the same thing, my lord."

"You suggested it when we repaired the wagon beds."

"Then it still works, regardless of who said it first."

"That’s why it has been used longer than either of us has been alive."

Christopher stood and brushed sawdust from his knees. Wat’s brace had lasted longer than either of them had been alive; Christopher stopped trying to improve it.

The gate would have two leaves, each narrow enough to swing from a stone pillar but heavy enough that four men would be needed to move it before the hinges settled. The lower edges were cut with room above the uneven ground.

"That gap is large," Christopher said.

"The wood will sag," Owen answered. "The ground will turn to mud. If I fit it tightly today, it will drag tomorrow."

Christopher nodded before Owen could explain further.

The first leaf was ready to raise after midday. Workers and children gathered around the courtyard. Joan kept Elsie beside her while Meg and the other three alarm runners watched from near Walter.

The fifteen slaves hauled ropes beneath Walter’s control, their collars still visible above rough work tunics. The six prisoners carried stones away from the gate passage in three tied pairs, two apprentices guarding them.

Godfrey walked around the gate leaf once, tested the lifting ropes and ordered everyone unnecessary farther back.

Owen placed men at both ropes while another group waited with poles to keep the wood from swinging inward. The hinge straps had already been fixed to the gate, and matching pins waited in the stone pillar.

"Pull," Owen called.

The ropes tightened.

The gate leaf rose one end at a time. Wet timber groaned against the ground, men leaned backward with their boots sliding across the courtyard, and Bram stood at one rope among six workers, carefully matching their pace instead of pulling with all his strength.

"Slow," Owen shouted. "Hold it there."

The leaf hung at an angle.

One of the lower ropes slipped half a hand across the wet wood. A worker shouted and released it before his fingers were caught, and the gate dropped several inches before the poles stopped it from falling.

Everyone began speaking at once.

Godfrey’s voice cut through them. "Hold your places."

Owen moved the rope and added a wooden stop beneath it. Mabel checked the worker’s hands; the skin across two fingers had reddened but had not broken.

While people watched the gate, one of the prisoners ran. He had been tied to another man while carrying rubble, and somehow slipped the rope from one wrist. He shoved his partner into the guard, crossed behind the half-raised gate and disappeared through the eastern passage.

Christopher saw none of it.

A girl from the alarm group did. She ran from Walter’s side toward the north steps, where Simon stood above the courtyard.

"Prisoner!" she shouted. "Eastern gate!"

Simon looked down, saw the fallen guard and ran along the wall. Martin followed him. Neither waited for Christopher’s order.

Godfrey stayed with the lifting crew.

"Walter, take two men and stop him before he reaches the road."

Walter drew his sword and took two apprentices through the eastern passage, while the remaining guards forced the other five prisoners to the ground.

"Keep the rope tight," Owen shouted. "If you let go now, this comes down."

Christopher remained beside the suspended gate. Every part of him wanted to follow Walter, but abandoning the lift would only add another confused man to the pursuit.

"Finish raising it," he said.

The ropes moved again.

The gate leaf climbed until the upper strap reached its pin. Barlow stood on a short platform and drove the iron into place, and the lower strap needed to be pulled sideways before it aligned. By the time both pins were seated, Christopher’s shirt clung to his back beneath his coat.

The gate stood.

The workers watched in silence, still waiting for Walter.

Simon returned first through the eastern passage, holding the prisoner’s free arm twisted behind his back. Martin carried the loose rope. The escapee’s cheek was bleeding and he favored one leg — he had reached the stream before Simon caught him among the stones.

Walter came behind them. "No one else."

"Was anyone hurt?" Christopher asked.

"The guard hit his shoulder when he fell," Walter said. "He can move it. Simon scraped his knee."

The prisoner said nothing.

Godfrey looked at the loosened rope around his wrist, then at the apprentice who had been guarding him.

"How did he get away from the guards?"

The apprentice swallowed. "I tied it, Sir."

"Poorly, my lord. Simon caught him before he reached the eastern road."

"Yes, Sir."

"You will demonstrate that knot two hundred times after watch."

Godfrey ordered the prisoner chained inside the old guardroom, and the other five returned to their locked room instead of working for the remainder of the day.

The second gate leaf went up with twice as many guards watching. It resisted the hinges when Owen tested it — men pushed from inside while two others pulled with a rope outside — and the rough lower edge cleared the ground by less than the width of Christopher’s thumb.

"It will drag when it swells," Owen said.

"You left a gap."

"Not enough on this side."

They lifted it again and cut away another narrow piece. By late afternoon, both leaves could open and close. A thick bar rested in brackets across the inside; the green wood met unevenly and the iron pieces differed, but the gate closed the road.

Christopher should have felt better.

Godfrey waited for him in the old guardroom. The prisoner sat against the wall with an iron shackle around one ankle, the chain running through a ring fixed into the stone. His cheek had stopped bleeding.

Godfrey sent the guard outside.

"Kill him," he said.

Christopher studied the chained man. "He failed to escape. That does not erase the attempt."

"That’s not the point." Godfrey kept his voice low. "He ran at the first opening. The other prisoners know it. If his punishment is another chain, they learn that escape costs little."

"No one died, and he did not harm anyone while running."

"Because Simon caught him quickly."

"Dragonwatch still needs every worker it can keep."

"We need apprentices on the wall. Now one watches him whenever he leaves this room."

The prisoner had watched roads and helped the bandits choose their victims. Christopher knew what he had done, but ordering the death of a helpless man still turned his stomach.

In his old world, prisoners went before courts; they had cells, guards and laws written by people far from the place where they were held. Dragonwatch had one locked room, a handful of apprentices and too much work.

Christopher had already ordered seven surrendered bandits killed at Black Hollow. He still remembered the quiet afterward.

"No," he said. "We keep him alive and increase his guard."

Godfrey waited.

"He stays shackled whenever he leaves. He works alone in the courtyard or near the gate, somewhere already guarded. He gets no credit toward freedom."

"That still uses a guard."

"Then give him work where a guard is already standing."

"And what happens if he attempts to run again?"

Christopher faced the prisoner. The man stared at the floor.

"Do not risk anyone to bring him back alive."

It was as close as Christopher could come to the answer Godfrey wanted.

Godfrey accepted it with a single nod. "If he runs again, someone may die stopping him."

"I know. Mercy becomes foolish if it teaches the others to test me."

"Make certain you do."

They left the guardroom.

The new gate was closing for the night. Four men pushed the eastern leaf while two pulled the western one into place, Owen watching the lower edges and shouting when the first began dragging. The heavy bar dropped into its brackets with a solid wooden knock.

For the first time since the settlers arrived, Dragonwatch had a closed outer gate.

Meg and the other alarm runners stood near the common hall. The girl who had raised the warning was telling the story with both arms, making the prisoner seem much faster than he had been, until Walter interrupted and made her repeat the exact message she had carried instead.

Christopher rested one hand against the damp timber. The gate made Dragonwatch safer. Keeping the prisoner alive made guarding it harder.

Both decisions belonged to him.