Heart of Hythea

Chapter two-2

Instinctively, she knew the proud Captain felt shame at his disability and did not want her to see his awkward movements. Dutifully, she turned her back on him and retraced her steps toward Brinna. She heard his deep voice from behind her, saying, “Hold, Pollux. Stand ready.” Katkin stole a glance back and saw his agonized expression as he scrambled ungracefully onto the animal. He righted himself on the saddle and carefully composed his appearance before leaning down to collect the crutches on the horse’s flank. Katkin, shivering now in the early evening chill, paused to cover herself with her woolen cloak, and throw the hood over her head. Climbing on to Brinna, she urged the pony forward until she stood close to Tomas’ horse. The Captain looked down upon her and said, “Shall we ride together?”

Katkin did not bother to hurry now she had the wounded man in her charge. Reasoning he could very well be her patient once they arrived, she decided to try and find out more about him. She wondered how to bring up the subject of his injured leg and strange behavior on the cliff edge. Not wanting him to feel ill at ease, she decided to take an indirect route.

“You said you were on your way to visit the Infirmarie? Do you intend to take the healing waters there?”

“Unfortunately that is so. I do not wish it, but my superiors have ordered me to. I would rather stay at the front than be fussed over by a coterie of goddess-worshiping harpies.” His bitterness surprised and offended Katkin. She stared up at him with burning cheeks.

“So am I a ‘goddess worshiping harpy’ as well? After all, I am a Juvenie, and I have made my Prime Vows. You speak of something of which you obviously know nothing, Captain. We have a fine history of cures among those who believe in the healing powers of Lalluna.”

He replied arrogantly, “Take no offence. I know more than you think. You are naïve and I would hardly expect you to understand. When you are older, as I am, you will have no time for such fairy tales.”

Katkin snorted in derision — she felt sure he could not be more than a few years older than she. She felt her temper rising so she decided to change the subject. “Captain, will you tell me of the wound that has caused you to be in such a distressing situation? If it is not too private a matter, I mean?” She knew, as a Juvenie, she should not be asking such questions of a patient.

“It is, as you say, a private matter, yet I feel I owe you some explanation for my strange behavior back there on the bluff. What did you think when you saw me throw these damned crutches over the cliff? Did you think I intended to follow them myself?” He looked at her questioningly, and Katkin nodded her head, realizing to her chagrin he had seen through her act from the very beginning.

“How do you know what I saw? You had your back turned.”

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and answered wryly, “I am a professional soldier, Miss. I would not have been promoted to the rank of Captain without some rudimentary ability to know when I am being crept up on. Also, your quite priceless expression gave you away.” At this he smiled mockingly, but his face did lose its pained expression for a brief moment.

“You are making fun of me.” Katkin said sullenly. “I truly thought you meant to throw yourself off the cliff after the crutches. I only wanted to help you.” She looked up at him, sitting so far above her, resplendent on his steed. “Did you think of jumping, Captain?”

His smile disappeared. “No, I did not. I have seen too much death in my time to wish to add my own life to its number. But I am angry and frustrated and I let my feelings get the better of me on the cliff top. My utter failure to overcome my injury makes me behave so. I am no good to my country like this. Though I have suffered through the ministrations of many physicians, none has been able to cure me. When my commander ordered me to find the Daminem of Lalluna and endure more treatment, it did not please me — to put it mildly. I have no faith in any healing, and wish to find nothing but an honorable death on the battlefield.” His cold blue eyes, so filled with pain and sadness, pierced her to the core.

She said softly, “I am sorry. There are many who have suffered in this war and the Daminem do what they can to help. Please tell me, if you will, how your leg came to be injured.”

The Captain rode silently for a moment, and then said condescendingly, “If it troubles you to hear of warfare, you will not find this story a pleasant one. Such things are not proper subjects of conversation for young girls.”

Katkin sharply declared, “I am not a child! Have I not told you I am one of the Juvenet of the Unity? Continue, Captain, I have heard many tales from the soldiers in my care. Yours can be no worse.” Katkin sat back on Brinna, hoping she had at last convinced him to treat her with some respect.

“As you wish. About six months ago, my men and I found ourselves trapped in a narrow gully on the west side of the Ariane, held down by musket fire from some of Reynard’s cursed peasant rabble. We were taking heavy losses and I decided to make a break for the head of the gully and see if I could draw their fire, allowing my men to escape downwards.”

Katkin looked up at him, amazed. Riding out alone against a host of enemies and he made it sound all so mundane. She remarked admiringly, “That was a very heroic thing to do.”

He smiled ruefully. “Heroic, you say? Of course it was. That is a part of my duty, as a Captain in the King’s Guard. But perhaps damned foolish would be a better choice of words. I took a pistol ball directly in the knee and it shattered the joint. I felt such agony, I cannot describe it, and I have not been free of it since that day. The battlefield surgeon wanted to amputate my leg from the knee down but my father prevented him from doing so. He insisted it would have ruined my chances for promotion. But my leg has not healed properly and now I am a cripple. Completely lame! I cannot walk without the aid of crutches, nor can I ride far. I am useless. Truly useless to the war effort or for anything else.”

“Even if you can no longer fight, there are other ways you can help with the conflict, are there not?” Katkin suggested softly. “I cannot wage war either and I have lost much, yet I do what I can. Do you understand? Nicholas Reynard has hurt many people.” Katkin thought she might shake him out of his self-pity with her words, but that was not the case.

Instead, he rounded on her, furiously shouting. “You are just a child. What could you have lost? Some pretty doll house or play toys? How could you understand what it is like to be an officer of the Guard? Do you know what expectations are placed on my shoulders, and what the price of failure is?”

Katkin drew a shaky breath, and stared at him, surprised at his vehement reaction. She might have told him more of her own catastrophic loss, but she had no intention of provoking him further, given his questionable mental state. Instead, she replied quietly, “I beg pardon, Captain. I have obviously spoken out of turn. Can you forgive me?”

He nodded curtly. “Of course, Miss du Chesne, but I should be apologizing to you instead. I have been a heel. I have only my injury to blame, and therefore myself.”

She smiled up at him reassuringly. “It is nothing, really. I think we are both a little tired, that is all.”

They traversed the last steeply winding section of path and reined their horses at the entrance to the Yoke. Katkin eyed the gate, which was shut and barred. She said, “Oh no! The curfew has already begun. They won’t let us in now. What are we going to do?”

Tomas did not answer her. He rode close to the closed gate on Pollux and pounded loudly on the boards with the hilt of his sword to rouse the keeper within.

A small window opened. Beyond it, a head appeared, clad in the shining steel helmet of a Guardsman. The gatekeeper said, “The gate is closed until morning. You must show a pass.”

Tomas drew himself up straight and barked, “I am Captain Tomas de Vigny of the Fourth Company, King’s Guard. Open the gate and I will show my pass when we are safely inside. I have urgent business within the City.” He glared at the gatekeeper, who blinked in surprise. Katkin looked at Tomas in dismay. She thought the Captain had spoken very rudely to the Guardsman, who only wanted to carry out his duty to keep the City safe. She wondered if he would refuse, but a moment later she heard the heavy bar drop to the ground and the gate opened wide to admit them.

A cobbled courtyard and a small hut filled the space between the inner and outer gates. A low fire burned in a brazier. Katkin noticed a tin bowl of beans and a chunk of brown bread lying next to a three-legged stool by the fire. Apparently, they disturbed the gatekeeper’s evening meal, such as it was. Looking toward the other side of the courtyard, she could see the inner gate, as well reinforced as the outer one, leading to the Yoke.

Without dismounting, Tomas reached into his saddlebag, pulled out a small rolled parchment, beribboned, and sealed with red wax. He dropped it into the gatekeeper’s outstretched hand, saying, “Here is my pass, boy. Now let us proceed immediately.”

The young Guardsman unrolled the document and read it laboriously, his lips shaping each word. Tomas looked on with mounting impatience. Finally, the Guardsman said, “I am sorry for the delay, Captain. Your papers are in order and you may cross into the City. But the young lady? Does she have a pass? Otherwise, I must ask her to return tomorrow morning.”

Tomas swore explosively at the young Guardsman. “This young woman is my companion and is a resident of the City, who could not return by curfew time through no fault of her own. She is coming with me now. Do not argue with me further, Private.”

“Sir, I am under strict orders from the Sergeant not to admit anyone who does not have the proper papers. As much as I would like to, I cannot let her pass the Yoke with you.” The young Guardsman looked up at the Captain and swallowed nervously.

Katkin felt very sorry for the lad, who was probably a farm boy from the sunny fields beyond the City, not yet fifteen summers old. He had been called up to fight in an incomprehensible war, taken far from home and left to carry out his duties as gatekeeper on this dark and cold night as best he could. How could the Captain be so unfair? She tried to defuse the tension. “Captain, please, let it rest. I can easily find lodging in one of the houses near the mouth of the Yoke.”

Tomas ignored her plea and jumped down from his horse to confront the Guardsman face to face. Only Katkin knew how much the effort would have cost him. He said angrily, “Call your Sergeant. I would speak with him.” The Private backed away, and walked quickly into the hut.