Tuesday, May 8, 2018

four or five


by horace p sternwall




night fled behind the horizon. the birds flew out of the dawn.

five riders rode across a flat, empty plain.

they had left the battle behind them. they were the only survivors of a mighty army that had taken the field, full of confidence, and with flags flying, only twenty hours before.

the emperor rode in front.

his faithful adjutant, general f——————, rode slightly behind him and to his right.

colonel h—————, who had commanded the 5th cavalry, rode behind him on the left.

bub, the emperor’s valet and cook, rode behind colonel h—————.


jones, a young cavalryman who had had his first taste of battle on the previous morning, brought up the rear.

they rode on. no one spoke. the sun was not unpleasant.

is there no town? the emperor finally asked.

we took this route because there are no towns, general f————— replied. the parthians are less likely to follow us here.

the emperor made no reply.

they rode on.

i see something, colonel h————— said. over there , on the left.

probably just a campsite, if even that, he added as the others turned their heads.

without a word, they all turned their horses and headed for the spot the colonel had pointed out.

it was indeed a small campsite, a very small campsite. a small pot was suspended from three sticks over some stones and ashes.

the only living creature visible was a very old woman, obviously a witch, who looked up without blinking at the riders as they approached.

good morning, mother, general f————— greeted her.

good morning yourself, the witch replied.

what are you waiting for? colonel h————— addressed her. you see five weary and hungry soldiers, get us some dinner if you please.

with what? the old woman asked, gesturing at the tiny unlit pot and the surrounding desert.

come come, mother, none of your tricks, we know you are a witch and have magical powers. use them if you please or we will make it hot for you.

if i had magical powers, sir, why would i be living in a patch of rock and scrub in the desert?

ha ha, do you take us for fools? you witches have been spouting that same tired nonsense since beelzebub was a kitten, and jezebel a ball of string.

and colonel h————— drew his sword and pointed it down at the old woman.

very well, sir, since you will have it so, the old woman replied.

she pointed her bony finger at the riders and they turned into small birds and flew away into the sky, except for the emperor, who turned into a scorpion and burrowed into the dirt.

the horses were turned into rats and scurried away across the desert in different directions.

the old woman sighed. again, she thought.

how many times through the centuries had they come?

always four or five riders, more usually four.

one day there would be seven riders.

and then everything - the sky, the desert, the world, the little empires with their armies and battles - would change.

until then… the witch began to gather bits of brush to build a fire.



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