Red Rowan: Book 3: Return of the Reluctant Hero

by Helen Gosney

  “Hush, Fess. Just give him a few minutes, let him go on ahead. He’ll be all right. He’s a lot stronger than he thinks,” he said softly.

  They sat on their horses and watched as Rowan rode over to the two great burial mounds that stood on the site of the Wirran camp that had seen such carnage and loss. They were covered with lush grass now. Between them was another of the great granite slabs.

  “In honour of the brave men of the Guard of Wirran and Plait who gave their lives in this place. They shall not be forgotten.”

  Behind the slab was a vast pile of battered armour, broken shields, dented helmets, shattered swords and spears and arrows: all the flotsam of war; rusting now, but still a stark, haunting reminder of what had happened here.

  Rowan dismounted from Ashen and stared at the memorial his men had made to honour the fallen. So simple, so powerful, and so right. He bowed his head in respect and sorrow for all the brave men who lay there. These men are at peace now, he thought. ‘Tis time we all let ourselves be at peace too. He raised his head as he heard Fess and Cade walking towards him a few minutes later.

  “Thank you,” he said softly. “Thank you for… for waiting. And thank you for coming with me… I needed to do this.”

  Cade and Fess looked at each other for a moment.

  “So did we, Rowan,” Cade said thoughtfully, “So did we.”

  **********

  Of course, Fess hadn’t been part of the battered little troop that had fought so hard to get home. He’d carried the request for assistance to the Commandant and tried desperately to get the man to send the reserve troops to Messton. He’d felt that he’d failed Rowan and the others, until finally he’d come to see that none of it was his fault.

  And now, on this journey back to Messton after so long, Cade and Fess and Rowan had spoken to each other about their experiences for the first time. Those who’d been at Trill rarely spoke of it and then usually only among themselves, but now Cade and Rowan found they were finally able to speak of it openly with their friend. And they could talk about the truly dreadful trek home from Messton too. Fess in turn could speak about his guilt and despair that they’d been through so much, suffered so much, and he’d simply been unable to do anything to help them.

  None of the conversations were easy at first, but they were cathartic for them all. Perhaps Rowan summed it up best: “Thank you, my friends… thank you for just being here and… and listening. ‘Tis so peaceful out here…and nothing I do now can change what happened. I truly did do the best I could with what I had… just like we all did. I couldn’t have done more… it doesn’t matter how much I wanted to or how much I wish I could have… I simply couldn’t … and ‘tis the same for all of us,” he sighed, “I think ‘tis time to be more… gentle on ourselves, soothed in our minds. ‘Tis time to realise that it’s all right to let it go… not to forget, but … just to let it go…”

  “You’re right, Rowan,” Fess said softly, “We’ve all struggled with this, and I thought I’d got over it, but… being out here, finally talking about it all like this, it’s a… a release, truly…”

  Cade nodded slowly.

  “I almost didn’t come with you, you know… but I’m glad that I did,” he said, “We’ve all ‘coped’ in our own way with Messton and Trill and the bloody Commandant, but it still affects us all, one way and another. None of it was our doing, our fault. And nobody blames us for anything we did or didn’t do, no matter what we might have thought. We’ll never forget what happened, and it’ll still catch us unawares sometimes, but… thank you for letting me be here too…”

  **********

  18. “We should have come before this, but…”

  “Sorry, lads, there’s something else I need to do while I’m out here,” Rowan said quietly as they saddled their horses the next day to head back to Den Siddon.

  They looked at him questioningly.

  “I want to go back to Yari’s farm, but I’ll be all right to do that,” he smiled at them.

  “ Aye, you will, but still I’d like to come with you, if it’s all right with you,” Fess said quietly. He glanced at Cade. “We both would.”

  They rode out to the farm where Rowan had gone to borrow some carts to transport his wounded troopers home. It looked much the same, but more prosperous somehow.

  “Look, there’s Yari,” Rowan said as he reined Ashen to a stop.

  A shortish, thickset man was ploughing, his head down and his mind on something else. He looked up as one of his horses neighed to the strange horses it saw coming towards them. Three horses, probably the best looking horses he’d seen for a very long time. But who’d be coming out here? He supposed he’d find out soon enough. A tall, silverhaired man dismounted from a very fine dappled grey, patted the dog that had appeared from nowhere to gambol at his feet and came towards him with a long, graceful stride.

  “Yari… you mightn’t remember me, but you lent me some carts and some hay a good while ago, and I’ve come back to thank you and your family for saving a lot of lives, including mine,” he said, “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to do it.”

  Carts? Hay? Yari stared at him. This man was a Siannen forester. The last and only forester he’d seen here had been in Wirran uniform: battered, bloodied, and barely able to breathe, but startlingly determined to try and get his wounded troopers home. Truly, Yari had thought the young captain wouldn’t survive; this strong, handsome, healthy looking fellow simply couldn’t be the same man. He looked into his green-brown eyes and knew that it was.

  “Captain! It’s so good to see you! Gods, you look a hell of a lot better than when you were here last,” Yari said as he shook his hand.

  “Aye, and I feel a hell of a lot better too, but ‘tisn’t ‘Captain’ any more, Yari. ‘Tis just Rowan now,” he said with a smile, “These are my friends Cade and Fess.”

  “But what are you doing out here?” Yari wanted to know, before he remembered his manners. “Come to the house, Molly and Yianni will want to see you. Young Zeb joined the Guard, you know… his voice trailed off as he realised Fess and Cade were both Guardsmen. “Zeb’s all right, isn’t he?”

  “Aye, he’s doing well at Den Mellar, very well so they say,” Fess smiled at him, “It’s as Rowan says, we just wanted to come and thank you for helping our men all those years ago. We came out with him to the Memorial and he wanted to come on here too, so here we are. We should have come before this, but…”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Yari said quietly, “Your new Commandant came out here himself, not long after he was appointed. They were still making the Memorial. I’ll tell you what I told him… you don’t need to thank us. We only did what anyone would do and I’ve always wished we could have done more.”

  **********

  Yari had been amazed when his sons had come back from Den Siddon and told the remarkable tale of the survival of so many troopers, and it was all due to this man standing straight and tall before him.

  Rowan had come across the paddocks with a few troopers almost as battered and weary as himself, and a big herd of horses that were simply following him. The two dogs that did such a good job of keeping the farm’s rare visitors at bay frisked at his feet as he dismounted and bent down carefully and patted them with his uninjured hand. And then he’d asked for the loan of whatever farm carts Yari could spare, so that he could try and get all of his wounded troopers home.

  “Of course you can have them, Captain, but we’ve only got the one draught horse… oh, and a couple of oxen, but really one of them’s too old to be much use…” Yari had said, staring at him, appalled. The poor lad looked so young, but he was obviously in charge of these tattered looking men, his insignia of rank hanging half off his sleeves. He was injured, as all of the men were, and he looked exhausted as he struggled to breathe, but Yari thought he’d never seen anyone so determined on a course of action. And his troopers looked like they’d follow him anywhere.

  Rowan shook his head.

  “Thanks
, but no… we won’t take your beasts; you’ll need them here on the farm. Besides, we’ve got plenty of horses now, and they’re rested; this is only some of them. They can pull the carts, we can change the teams often…” he said, “We’ll need whatever harness you can spare though, and we’ll cobble together what we’ve got. Oh, and we’ll need some hay to cushion the carts a bit for the men, too, please. I think we’ll manage…”

  “But your horses aren’t used to pulling carts and things…” Yari said slowly.

  “No, they’re not, but they’ll be all right,” Rowan smiled slightly, “Some might be a bit surly, but we’ll manage.”

  They’d harnessed the troop horses to every vehicle the farmer had and Rowan turned to Yari gratefully and said, “Thank you. I’ve got nothing to give to you but these spare horses. Please take them, we’ve got a lot more than we’ll need, and…”

  “Captain, we don’t need payment. I just wish we could do more…”

  Dammit, Rowan thought, I didn’t put that well. He tried again.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, but we’ve got all these horses here that we won’t need, and we’ll have to leave them behind. Either here, or at Messton… we simply won’t be able to take care of them all. Please, take them. They’re good strong beasts and they’ve served us well, they deserve better than to just be abandoned out here. If you don’t need them on the farm, sell them. Sell them back to the Guard,” he thought for a moment, “Just a minute, I’ll write something for you so they’ll know you have a right to them… please, just… just take them with our gratitude.”

  The farmwife, Molly, came up to him as Yari stood undecided.

  “Thank you, Captain, that will make a lot of difference to us. And you must take this…” Two lads appeared, laden with bundles. Molly could see that the young Captain was simply too exhausted to try to work out what they were doing with them. She smiled at him. “There’s some clean sheets and things that you can cut up and use for bandages, and a few potions and herbs that might help a bit. Not many, I’m afraid, but surely better than nothing at all. Oh, and there’s some food there too… no, you don’t need to thank us… as Yari says, we just wish we could do more to help you.” She looked at the two farm lads and then kissed their cheeks. “Yianni and Zeb want to go with you and help you in any way they can.”

  Rowan looked at the lads carefully. They were about sixteen and eighteen, stocky and strong looking like their father and used to the hard work of life on a farm. They could be a big help to his men, he knew, but he couldn’t just let them do this without at least trying to prepare them a little. Not that any words he could say could truly prepare them.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly, “But it won’t be pretty, lads. It’ll be the most horrible thing you’ll ever do or see… our camp at Messton is… disgusting, revolting, truly indescribably awful… some of the men have dreadful wounds, they’re dying in terrible pain every day, and we can’t even bury them and… and we’ll lose a lot more on the way home. Probably less than half of us will survive to get back to Den Siddon, no matter what we do or how hard we try,” he shook his head slowly, “If you… if you find that you simply can’t do it, there’s no shame in that. Please just tell me if you want to leave, so I’ll know where you are, and… and thank you. Any help that you can give us, even if it turns out to be for a couple of hours before you find it’s too… too hard… any help at all, we’re all very, very grateful for…”

  The lads looked shocked at his blunt words. They stared at each other for a moment, then both stepped forward and put their bundles in the nearest cart.

  “Don’t worry, Captain, we’ll help you for as long as you need us,” the older one, Yianni, said stoutly, “We’re used to… things… on the farm.”

  Not like this, you’re not, Rowan thought sadly.

  “Good lads,” he said, “Let’s go then…”

  **********

  As they walked up to the house, Rowan thought that it seemed different to how he’d remembered it. More affluent, somehow, and Yari had been ploughing with two horses, not one. The farmer smiled at his puzzlement.

  “You remember those troop horses you left with us?” At Rowan’s nod, Yari smiled more widely. He couldn’t believe that Rowan hadn’t simply taken what he’d needed so badly that day, including the draught horse, but no. He’d been sure the troop horses could do the job and insisted on leaving twenty or so spare horses at the farm. He’d even written a hastily scrawled letter to prove that Yari had come by them honestly. “I sold them back to the Guard, like you suggested. Made a tidy sum too. So we made a few improvements around here. Truly, it’s us should be thanking you, Rowan.”

  His wife, Molly, had heard the horses and the sound of voices and had come to see what was going on. She stared at the three tall strangers, but as Rowan turned his head she knew who he had to be. Mottled green-brown eyes like that were rare, very rare, and she’d only ever seen them once before. They’d been weary and haunted and full of pain then, and they were bright and clear now, but this man had to be the polite, badly battered lad who’d come here looking for help for his troopers. She ran forward and hugged him.

  “Captain! We thought you’d… we knew you’d got back to Den Siddon with all those men, but nobody seemed to know what happened to you after that,” she said, brushing tears from her eyes. Her lads had told her of the compassion this man had shown for his injured troops, how very hard he’d struggled to save them, how strong and courageous he’d been in spite of his own injuries. Told her too that he’d simply disappeared after he’d got his shattered troops home. It had broken her heart.

  Rowan smiled at her. The Guard had known he was still alive, of course, known where he was, but they’d thought it best that Rowan be left to recover in his own time, no matter how long it took, and so they’d simply closed ranks around him and done nothing to confirm or deny the rumours of his death that inevitably began to spread. And the foresters had looked after their own as they always had and always would.

  “No, I’m still alive. We’re tough, us Siannens. But please don’t cry, Molly, or you’ll start us all off,” he said softly, “I went home to Sian and I should have come back here before this, but… well, I’m here now. And I truly do want to thank you for all that you did. Nobody would have got home at all but for you and Yari and the lads. Thank you.”

  She looked up at him.

  “Daft lad. You don’t need to thank us. Now, come inside, all of you. You look like you could do with a good feed.”

  “Rowan said we mustn’t come emptyhanded,” Cade said with a grin, “He said his Gran would skin him if he did…” he turned back to his horse and picked up the deer slung behind its saddle.

  “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Molly laughed. “You’ve been well trained, lad. Your Gran sounds just like mine.”

  **********

  19. “A g’Hakken gentleman, Sarge!”

  Time went by, and Rowan found that he’d fitted back into garrison life well. He kept himself busy with one thing and another and one day he was sitting quietly under the tallowbark playing with Scrap and thinking how well Fess’s little lads were going with their riding. He smiled when he remembered the day Toren had brought them their ponies. No g’Hakken dwarf had been at Den Siddon since the staging of the last Champions’ Trophy and this one wouldn’t have been there either if he hadn’t been helping out a clansman.

  **********

  Toren of the g’Hakken had simply appeared at the Gate of the garrison one morning. A trooper hurried up to the base of the steps to the battlements.

  “Sergeant Bryn!” he called urgently, “Is Red Rowan up there with you?”

  Toren smiled as he heard it; it seemed that Rowan would always be ‘Red Rowan’ to the men, regardless of what colour his hair was now.

  “Sort of, Rafe,” came the reply, “He just ran past on his circuit again. Why?”

  “There’s a gentleman here asking to see him,” Rafe said
, “A… er… g’Hakken gentleman, Sergeant.”

  “A… what…?”

  Rafe smiled nervously at Toren. The only time the notoriously prickly g’Hakken dwarves came to Den Siddon was when the Champions’ Trophy was held there, and Rafe hadn’t been here then, but he was trying very hard not to offend the visitor. If he did, he knew he’d hear about it from Captain Fess and the Champion. The dwarf himself would surely have something to say about it too.

  “A g’Hakken gentleman, Sarge!” he said a bit more loudly.

  “Oh… I’ll, er, send Red down when he comes around again, shouldn’t be too long. Make the gent comfortable please, Rafe.”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  Toren was sitting comfortably on the grass, having refused a seat in the Guardroom, and he was drinking a cup of surprisingly good garrison tea when Rowan trotted up to him.

  “Toren, ‘tis so good to see you again. Thanks for bringing them,” he said as he hugged his friend, “I knew you’d have better ponies than any I’d find around here.”

  Toren smiled up at him.

  “Of course they are, Rowan. ‘Tis no trouble to bring them, and to be truthful I brought a few others to sell while I was here, so if you don’t like these ones you can look at the rest I’ve got,” he said.

  Rowan laughed.

  “I think I can trust you to give me the best ponies you’ve got. I wouldn’t trust most horse traders as far as I could throw them, but I’m pretty sure I can trust you,” he looked around curiously, “But where are they?”

  Toren stared at him. The ponies were just behind him, cropping the grass, weren’t they? He looked behind himself quickly. No, they weren’t. Dammit. He’d been enjoying his cup of tea in the sun and the little buggers must have… Ah. There they were. He pointed to where several fine ponies were happily eating some rosebushes.

  “Bloody Hells, Toren. The gardener here’s a grumpy old bastard,” Rowan grinned at him, “He’ll kill us if he finds them there. And if he doesn’t, the Commandant’s wife will.”