by Ron Vitale
Chapter 3
Weeks passed by and summer turned into autumn. The winds came, blowing the red, orange, and yellow leaves off the trees. Winter would arrive and the town would be buttoned up for the cold. Travel on the roads would be impassable and only a few ships would come in to the docks. The storms and ice flows in the river would be too much of a risk for any sane merchant. Still, I had hope buried in my heart that he would come back to me. A foolish hope that I would not share with anyone for fear that if spoken aloud it would shatter, and I would have to go through the long and dark winter months alone without a light to guide me ahead.
To keep myself occupied, I focused more on my teaching. Initiates were busy this time of year. I kept them working hard both physically and mentally. Exercise, reading, and writing were the main staples of my teaching. I hoped one day that I could broaden my coven and take on more teachers, but that would take more planning and hard work. I found it difficult to manage the few girls I had now. Seven initiates trusted me with their futures and I did not wish to let them down. With the days getting shorter and the lesson load increasing, I kept a watch out, especially for Alessia. I worried about her, knowing too well the temptations of young love.
Only a few weeks before the winter solstice celebrations, I called her to my room one night. I sent for her after bedtime. She had no warning but came with haste still in her night robe. When she came into my study, I motioned for her to sit down in the chair opposite me.
She sat on the edge of her seat and asked, “Is all well with my aunt and my young cousin? Little Sarah is like a sister to me.”
I offered her a glass of wine. “I have no news of them. That is not why I called you.”
Alessia relaxed and sat back in her chair. I looked to the fire and waved my hand at it, increasing its brightness and warmth. “We have not spoken in some time, and I wish to speak with you about the mayor’s son. What is his name?”
“John.” She spoke in a low voice, unsure of where the conversation would go.
“How is John these days?”
“I suspect well. I have not seen much of him as of late. My studies keep me busy, and he is learning his trade. We see each other when we can.” Alessia folded her hands in her lap and stared down at the floor.
“Do you wish to leave here and to be with him?” I spoke the words, and then added, “I could arrange that, if you’d like.”
She looked up at me, and I could see that she wondered what type of test I played out on her. “But if I leave here, I would have no skills and be untrained in using my magic.”
“That is true.” I took a sip of wine and saw that she drank none of what I had offered her. “But you could be with John and start your life with him.”
Alessia shook her head. “If you try to test me to leave all I’ve worked so hard for, I will not be so easily swayed. My aunt did that and she has nothing now. My uncle hasn’t been the best of husbands. I saw much when I lived with them before he died.”
“And that’s why I selected you to be one of my initiates. You fought hard to get here and show much promise.” I put my glass down and eased up on her. “I brought you here tonight to tell you another story. If you would listen.”
“I’m not in the mood for a love story tonight. I’m tired and have much to do tomorrow. I would rather go to bed.”
I could not hide the smile from my face. “Good. You speak your mind and tell the truth. That will get you far in life, but it will not serve you well with your lord or master. They will not wish to hear you deny them.”
“I am not working so hard to be a servant. I wish to be my own master and help villagers with their troubles. I’ll pick a small town and set up in a small house where I can live with my aunt and cousin. The three of us will work together, and I will heal the sick and help the poor.”
“Then it is good that you are here tonight. You can go and get your sleep. Or, you can listen to my tale. The choice, as always, is yours.” I folded my hands and watched her.
She did not hesitate before answering. “I’m going back to sleep. I’m tired, and unless you command me to stay, I will be going.” She stood up and faced me with confidence that only youth could be bold enough to exhibit.
“I have no power to command you to do anything. You are here in the coven because you want to be here. It is your choice.” I turned away from her. “Good night.”
She hesitated a moment and asked, “You’ll not be angry at me?”
“I wanted you stay for companionship, but I am not angry at you. Go to bed.”
Alessia left the room still unsure if she had done the right thing. But maybe the lesson was more for me than her. I settled myself in my chair and smiled, thinking that Alessia reminded me of how I used to be when I was young. I cast a spell at the fire and closed my eyes. The illusion grew, small at first, but with confidence and practice I enlarged the view until the fire flickered and played a memory from my past. More than twenty years had passed since the day I remembered, and I watched my life play out in the fire. I settled back in my chair and allowed myself to indulge in a dose of self-pity, thinking that the loneliness I felt would be best cured by looking back to a time long gone, but still so dear.
***
The winter dragged on, seemingly for months, and Denise kept sharing with me her stories of love and experimentation with Cameron. She shared stories of delight and a few missteps, but Denise remained open and honest. She was a true friend.
I remember one day washing the dishes from the morning’s breakfast and looking outside. The snow had stopped the night before, but a cold had settled in, freezing the snow to the ground like icing on a cake. The view outside reminded me of an exquisite painting in which the artist took the most delicate of details to blanket the world with a beautiful white blanket.
My hands were sore and red from scrubbing the dishes in warm water, but I still shivered from the cold. The house was kept cool to ration what wood we had so that it would last through the rest of winter. A holler from outside caught my attention, and I glanced up and saw a local neighbor’s child running through the snow waving his hand in the air. He went from house to house, delivering his message.
And then the local bell tower rang three times, dour, announcing to the city an event of importance. I heard the chatter in the hall before it reached me, and Denise came running inside. “Come on. Let’s go!”
I grabbed a towel and dried my hands. “What is it?”
“Some of the men are returning from the war.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me with her.
Together we ran outside and joined the others waiting along the street. “Is the war over? Did we win?” I looked around but could not see anyone in the street yet.
An older woman in our house bundled her shawl around her shoulders and shifted from foot to foot to stay warm. “No, I doubt it. The men would have streamed back on their horses blowing trumpets if they had won.”
Denise pointed down the end of the street. “Look, they’re coming. See?”
At the end of the block, several horses pulling carts headed our way. More children ran toward the horses, but I noticed that they stopped and moved out of the street to let the horses pass. When the first cart passed by, I covered my mouth with my hand and nearly had to look away. The dried blood on the rags and a man lying on his back passed us by in the cart. The horse walked slowly on, and the next cart followed. More blood, and this time I heard the young man moaning in the cart. A few soldiers in their leather armor marched along with the other horses, and a few men went past us pushing wheelbarrows with a wounded soldier in them.
The old woman next to me grabbed me and Denise. “The wounded are returning. It’ll be the parade of the injured. Come, let’s go help.” She came down off the steps to the house and headed toward a spot on the street where other servants from our house had gathered.
Denise followed her as did I, and we stood at the end of the gathering. At the front, our house lord spoke to one of th
e soldiers passing by. He stood tall in his robes, but directed those around him with a commanding air. Other servants from nearby houses gathered on the sides of the street and I saw some of the carts stop. The kitchen staff had come out of the house across the street with towels, blankets, and buckets of water. An old maid had rolled up her sleeves and she began to administer to an injured man.
Our house lord spoke to us, but I did not hear all of what he said. He spoke of our duty and the need to band together, but I could not look away from the parade of carts coming by.
“Sabrina!” I heard my name being called, and I ran into the street, searching. My heart beat fast, and I hoped that I had heard a familiar voice. “Over here!”
I heard Stephen’s voice calling me, and I saw a ragged man waving at me. I rushed over to the cart and the horse stopped. I pulled the horse out of the street and then rushed to the back of the cart. I almost did not recognize him with his beard and bedraggled look. He had a blood-stained tourniquet wrapped around his head, but the moan that I heard from the man who lay in the back of the cart stopped me. Stephen held the man in his arms, and I remained transfixed. I looked beyond the blood, the dirt and grime and finally recognized him. It was Charles.
“Help me, please.” Stephen shifted himself and gently put Charles down onto the hay in the back of the cart. He climbed down and I hugged him, ignoring the blood and his smell.
“Oh God, what happened to him?” I pulled myself away and turned to Charles. I could not stop staring at the two stumps. He had no legs.
“Let’s get him inside. He needs to be cleaned and tended to so that his wounds do not fester. Does your house have a doctor?”
Still I stared at Charles’ missing legs and watched him moan in his fevered state.
Stephen shook me. “Sabrina, do you have a doctor at your house?”
I snapped alert and nodded. “Yes, we do. Let’s get him inside.” I lied and don’t know why I said that, but we grabbed the stretcher from the cart and lowered him down. I tried to lift him but could not do so and called over one of cooks to help me. Our house lord directed traffic on the other end of the house, doing the same thing as I. Between the two of us that day, we brought eight wounded soldiers inside to care and feed. Even after we took the wounded in, more and more kept coming in on horse, cart, and a few stumbled along as best they could. The sheer number of wounded overwhelmed us. Hundreds of our best soldiers had been wounded with many never to walk again.
Once inside, the wounded were set up in the great hall and we brought fresh clothes and medicine, along with food and drink. Stephen stayed by my side, helping me set up the makeshift beds for the soldiers. After we had settled and cleaned everyone, the cooks brought in food and we helped to feed them as best we could. Late in the day, I took Stephen out of the room and sat him on a chair and undid the wrap on his head. He had a cut there that looked nastier than it was. With a head wound, it had bled much, but the actual cut was not that deep or wide.
He sat on the chair and allowed me to minister to him. “I’m so glad to be home. We were taken by surprise and attacked on two fronts. Calvary from the front, and archers and infantrymen rushed us from behind. Charles and I tried to stick together, but the fighting became fierce and our ranks broke and we were separated.” Stephen glanced up at me with an anguished look. “I tried to protect him, but failed.”
I cleaned Stephen’s wound and he flinched, so I put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “What happened to Charles?”
His lip trembled and he tried to talk, but a squeak came out of his mouth. Coughing into his hand, he took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and began again. “Down by the front, the weather is warmer and it had rained hard the night before the ambush. We trudged through thick areas of mud and marched to our positions, but then the attack came. I tried to stay with him, but those around me broke their formation and I was pushed in the opposite direction, so we were separated. The cavalry charged forward and the men around me were trampled to death. I lost sight of Charles, but after the attack the Southerns pulled back their troops to regroup and we had time to retreat. We had been slaughtered. On the retreat, I headed back to our fort and kept my eye out for him. There were too many wounded for me to help. I couldn’t help them all. But I found him. He had slipped in the mud and had been trampled.” Stephen started to break, but fought to remain his composure. “A heavy cart loaded with supplies had been pulled over his legs, crushing them. His legs were destroyed. I do not know how he even still lived. I dug him out from underneath the cart and pushed it away and then carried him back to our fort. I took him to the healers and could see that they did not lie. His legs were crushed and useless. They amputated them, and I held him while he screamed.”
I covered my mouth with my hand but reacted quickly and put my arms around him. “He will be fine. You saved him. Shh, all will be well.”
He sobbed and then broke down, fighting to get the words out. “The blood. There was so much blood when they took his legs from him. I didn’t know what else to do, but removing his legs would save his life.”
He hugged me fiercely, and I held him while he cried. I could smell the sweat, blood, and fear on him. He stunk of war and death. Careful not to touch his head injury, I pulled him closer to me and let him cry. My heart swelled up for him and Charles, but I did not cry. I needed to be strong for both of them.
***
The next morning I woke early and came down to help with the wounded. I made the rounds giving drinks and food out to the soldiers. The sun came out that day, but the cold remained. When I came to Charles, he watched me, but I could see from his face that he was in great pain. He did not speak, but watched me. Late in the morning I went back to him and washed his brow and helped clean the pan beneath him. After I finished, he reached for me and asked, “What is your name?”
I smiled at him and knelt down beside his makeshift bed. “Sabrina.”
“You used to watch me when Stephen and I practiced in the courtyard by the watchtower.” He kept hold of my arm and did not let go. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“There is no thanks to give. You fought hard to save this city, and I should be thanking you. We would all be dead or raped and made slaves if the Southerns were not stopped.” I squeezed his hand and comforted him as best I could.
He turned away from me and asked, “They took my legs from me, but I can still feel them. On my right, there’s this itch that I cannot scratch. When I move my hand down to try, I feel the scar …” He closed his eyes and fought back tears.
“You will get well again. I will help you.” I turned his face toward mine. “Stephen has told me much of you and of your bravery. Now is the hardest battle, but you are not alone. We will help you.”
He chuckled, sad and distraught. “I do not even know where to begin. Everything has changed and so quickly. I cannot even relieve myself. I am helpless.”
“That will change in time. Your body needs to heal and you will need to build up your strength. Your arms will become stronger and there is a wooden chair with wheels that will help you get around. You must believe that there will be a better day than today.” I put my hand over his chest.
“You speak to me with such hope as though you truly know me.”
I chanced to be honest with him and to show my feelings. “I have cared for you from afar.” I did not turn from his gaze. “I am not afraid to say it. It is the truth.”
“But because you are a servant, you never came to speak to me.”
I said nothing but kept my hand on his chest.
“The war has changed much. I wonder if it will change that.” He took my hand from his chest and put it in his. “Does my mother know of my injuries?”
“I do not know. I will talk with Stephen and find out more from him. Do not worry. Rest, heal, and be well.”
“Please, I don’t want her to find out yet. If she does, she’ll only get in the way. I want to be left alone for a while.” He still held onto
my hand and would not let go.
“I will tell Stephen not to speak to your mother yet, but soon she will need to know. She is probably worried out you.”
“Yes, I know, but not now.” He tried to be strong for me. I could see it in his eyes. “It is so hard. The pain is great.”
I closed my eyes and wished the pain from him, taking it into me, but nothing happened. I nodded to him instead. “I know.”
I left him there, and he watched as I walked away. I wondered what he thought of a strange servant girl who just spoke to him in such a close and intimate way. But I needed to leave because I did not know how much longer I could hold back my tears. I went back to my room, closed my door, and cried. When I shut my eyes, I could see the wounded reaching for me and hear their cries. Months ago they had marched off strong and at their best, but now, they returned weak, battered, and broken. They were shells of who they once were, returned shattered in spirit and body. We would need to be strong to help them come back to life. But with missing appendages, their journey back would not be easy.
Days passed and eventually several weeks. The winter faded away, giving up her icy grip over the land. Although we had a hard winter that year, the women of the city prayed for cold. The war had been put on hold and had turned more to a siege down south. Both sides regrouped, pulled back, and dug in over the winter months. Stores of food were increased and sent to the front along with fresh volunteers who were younger and some much older than the original soldiers who had gone out.
Denise came to me one late winter morning with eyes red. She cried into her handkerchief, and I took her into my arms.
“I know, I know.” I did not know what else to say.
“They made him go. He wanted to stay with me, but they forced him to go.” She buried her head in my shoulder and sobbed. I comforted her as best I could but could hear the heartbreak in her voice. “They took my Cameron away. My love …”
With his clubbed foot and all, he and many others were forced into service to help protect the city. The conscripted soldiers were lined up early one late winter morning and marched out of the city’s gates. Women of all sorts came out to watch the parade of men leave the city. Some wore black armbands in memory of other loved ones they had lost. Mothers had lost sons, others husbands and brothers. The men who remained were past fifty years of age or were wounded beyond healing. They could not walk, see, or had succumbed to battle fatigue, collapsing in on themselves and so distraught that they needed care to deal with the constant nightmares they saw.
