Red Rowan: Book 2: All Gone, the Gods

by Helen Gosney

  Rhys nodded. Rose was adamant that she’d go and look after Rowan. Nothing anyone said would change her mind. Griff would go too, but he was wed now with a young family of his own and Rowan refused to let him. It had been one of their few arguments.

  “But Rowan, what’s this business of trying to find Plausant Bron? Where the hell is it? Do you have any idea at all where it might be, or what you might find when you get there?”

  “Maybe. An idea’s about all I’ve got. But I… I just have to try and find it. It seems to be so important, Pa … ‘tisn’t right that every baby in a whole province is born too soon, or that whole villages are dying just because they’re in the north of Sian, or in Crell, or because folk are tall or short or… I don’t bloody know what. ‘Tisn’t right that all the trees suddenly die on only one side, or all the trout in the river die, but not anything else.” He looked up into his father’s worried face.

  “Pa, I know it’s daft… I know that. But …” he sighed. “We in Yaarl just can’t keep on as we are, with this unpredictable bloody madness and mayhem all around us. With… with all these innocent people dying like that for nothing. And ‘tis the same everywhere. I just need to find out if there’s anything that can… that can stop it all, I suppose. And if there is, then I’ll try and do it. ‘Tis all I can do…”

  “I can’t stop you, can I?” Rhys said sadly, already knowing the answer.

  “No, Pa. I’m truly sorry, but… no, you can’t. You might be able to stop Rose though…”

  “I doubt it, lad. She says she won’t let you go off alone and she’s damned nearly as stubborn as you are… If I thought it’d do any good I’d tie you both to this tree behind us.” Rhys paused. “Rowan, you’ll look after her, won’t you…?”

  “You know I will, Pa. That’s why I’ve started the sword drills again. I can defend myself lots of ways and I don’t need the sabre to do it, but… well, ‘tis probably the best way to keep Rose safe. I wish it wasn’t, but ‘tis.” he sighed. “And I’m damned good with the bloody thing, or soon will be again. I’d have to be dafter than I am not to use it if I really need to. Truly, I’d have to be desperate, but… well, if I am ever that desperate I’ll probably need all the skill I’ve ever had.”

  “You’re a good lad, Rowan… daft, but a good lad. Just stay safe … you and Rose both…”

  Rowan nodded and they stood together for a while, thinking their thoughts. Finally Rhys stirred.

  **********

  “Rowan, I think we should talk about other things for a bit, if we can. I know there’s a lot of things that you can’t tell Gran and Rose about… about what happened… the priest told me some of it, and Fess did too, and I… I can’t tell them either. But I’m… well, I’m worried about you, and I just think it’d help you to get some of it off your chest.”

  Rowan looked up at him, his eyes desolate.

  “Aye, Pa. You’re probably right. That’s what everyone says, but…” he shook his head, “I just… I just can’t do it…” his voice trailed away miserably.

  “Come and walk with me in the trees, laddie,” Rhys said gently, hating to see Rowan so distraught again, “Why don’t we just walk here among the Giants like we used to, where Gran and Rose can’t overhear us…. You know you can still tell me anything, Rowan. And if you want to talk about what’s bothering you, then fine… if not, that’s fine too.”

  Rowan sighed and fell into step beside his father as they headed into the forest. Neither said anything for quite a while and Rhys was starting to think that perhaps today wouldn’t be the day after all, and maybe it was better not to trouble him again, when Rowan seemed to come to a decision. Suddenly words tumbled from him.

  “Messton was a nightmare, Pa. A bloody nightmare. We were outnumbered and we had the worst of the terrain and the damned Commandant had put us in a terrible position, the idiot… And we knew a lot of the men from Plait… some of them were our friends, relatives…” Rowan paused for breath, surprised at himself. Now that he’d started he thought he should try and keep going, but it was hard, so hard. He pressed on reluctantly. “There was one man, Jonte Terrelson, his name was. We were corporals together at Den Farrar and we were good friends too. He wed a lass from Isten Bel, on the Bone Lake in Plait, and he moved up there. I… I hadn’t seen him for a while, but there he was at Messton.” He shook his head again, his eyes distant. “I didn’t want to kill him any more than he wanted to kill me, but… well, we both tried hard enough when it came to it. There… there just wasn’t a choice by then. I think it was him who cut my face; I’m not sure, but I think it was him… and I killed him. Him and all the others. You know, Pa, I don’t even know how many I did kill … fifteen…? thirty…? fifty? I’ve got no bloody idea. But I can still hear them all screaming and see their blood and mine spilling on the ground…” he stopped and looked down as if he expected to see blood dripping from his hands and the ground turned to a horrible crimson quagmire beneath his feet. He was shaking again and very pale.

  Gods, Rhys thought in horror. What do you see there?

  “Rowan… don’t. Don’t, lad. I don’t think this was such a good idea,” he said as Rowan stumbled over to an old log and sat down.

  “I don’t know, Pa. Maybe I should try to talk about it all more, but… but it’s just so damned hard. Rose asked me about… about Trill the other day.” He looked around him and shook his head again. “I can’t tell her or Gran about it. I don’t know what the priest told you, Pa, but… I just can’t… It’s a little town in the middle of farming country. Not forests like here, of course, but… but even so it reminded me of Borl Quist a bit. The folk there were… they were defenceless, really. Some of them tried to put up a fight, but… they were just poor bloody farmers, unarmed against trained men. At least we foresters would do better. But… Rollo and his men killed them all. The whole damned town. Three, four hundred folk that’d just been going about their business. And they… they didn’t do it quickly either. No, they took their time and they enjoyed it. They raped every woman there, the old grannies too, and most of the… the little girls as well…” Rowan stopped again, looking down at his own shaking hands. He tried to pull himself together a bit, but he was struggling. “Pa, I just can’t tell you. The whole place was awash with blood… that’s what I remember most, the blood and all the bodies laying about and the sound of Rollo’s men laughing… and the… the flies… I try really hard not to remember it, but I do. All of it. And the… the well… Gods! The cursed thing haunts me… it was full of… of children and… and babies… and, and they were… their little hands were torn and full of moss, and… and the, the blood was overflowing the sides, and…” he shook his head desperately. “ Pa, I…I truly can’t talk about it any more…” He looked very ill indeed, somehow even paler than before.

  Rhys was appalled. The significance of the moss clutched in the children’s hands wasn’t lost on him: he realised they must have been alive before being thrown into the well. Dear Gods, the priest didn’t know the half of it, he thought. Even Fess hadn’t been able to speak of the worst of it and it hadn’t seemed right to press him too much. Why did I ever think this might be a good idea for Rowan? Oh, my poor brave lad, how can you bear it?

  Rhys put an arm around his son’s shoulders again. He could feel him shuddering as they sat together. Eventually Rowan became calmer and he looked up at Rhys, his face desolate.

  “Maybe if we’d been able to catch up with Rollo, we might have stopped them somehow… but we couldn’t… we just couldn’t do it. We tried, but… I don’t know why they even stopped at Trill. It’s not far from there to the border with Plait, only half a day or so. Why wouldn’t they keep going? We couldn’t do anything to them once they’d crossed the border… not even put an arrow through Rollo. We were too far behind. Why would they…?”

  “Please, Rowan, don’t. It wasn’t your fault. You did all you could.”

  “Aye, I did. I truly did, Pa. But it wasn’t enough…”

 
“Don’t ever say that, Rowan. Don’t even think it. At least you stopped Rollo and his men from killing anyone else…”

  Rowan nodded unhappily.

  “Aye, at least we managed that. But it was too late for Trill…”

  They sat there quietly under the great tree. Time passed and eventually Rhys said softly, “You still get the nightmares, don’t you lad?”

  Rowan nodded miserably.

  “Aye… I still get them. Probably always will, I think…”

  “Gods! No, Rowan! Oh, I hope not… no…”

  “So do I, Pa. But… well, I don’t know. Maybe they’ll get less in time. Maybe they’ll just… just stop. I hope they might, but… it’s hard to truly believe in it.”

  “I’m sorry, Rowan. I thought when you started to get better that the nightmares might too.” He looked at Rowan’s wan face again. Time to speak of something else, he thought. “You’re working hard to build yourself up again, lad. Do you think you’ll be as strong as you were?”

  Rowan accepted the change of subject gratefully.

  “Aye, almost, I think. This damned shoulder doesn’t like me trying to make it useful again, and my hand’s not too happy about it either, but they should both know by now that they’re not going to win. Bloody things. Rollo and his murderers didn’t manage to kill me and I’ll be damned if they’ll leave me with a useless arm. Still, it’ll take a while I suppose.” He paused. “The leg’s pretty good though, unless I overdo it, and… well, it’s wonderful to be able to breathe without daggers tearing into my chest.”

  “Rowan, how the hell did you get back from Trill with your ribs smashed like that? And how the hell did you get the men back to Den Siddon?” Rhys had never understood how Rowan had been able to do this with his injuries. He didn’t really know why he hadn’t stayed in Den Siddon either. Perhaps he might ask him that today too, he thought, if Rowan could manage to keep going. Physically he was getting stronger, but his poor brave spirit was still badly battered. He’d simply been through too much, lost too much, and he’d seen things and done things that nobody should ever have to see or do.

  “I don’t know really, Pa. I just had to keep going after Trill… The troopers were shattered. Well, all of us were bloody shattered, but we couldn’t just stay there. It was a choice between sitting under a tree waiting to die, or sitting on a horse trying to get the men home… ‘twas going to bloody hurt either way, so...” he looked away. “And then when we got back to Messton, well… I’d thought there’d only be a handful of very badly hurt men there, more or less waiting to die… but the whole bloody camp was still there. There was no message from the Commandant, no troopers to help us, no supplies, no… nothing.” He shook his head again and for a moment his eyes burned with remembered fury.

  **********

  They’d come back to Messton, fraught, exhausted, and haunted by their experiences in Trill. Somehow Rowan had managed to keep going at a reasonable speed and he’d taught the troopers how to harvest willowbark from the trees they’d passed on their way. None of the men would have known a willow tree if it had jumped out and bitten them, let alone known how to harvest its bark, but now they did and they’d had some ease from the pain of their wounds.

  On the first morning, Cade had tried to talk Rowan out of returning to Messton that day, had wanted him to wait and try to regain some strength, but he might as well have saved his breath. Rowan had eaten a little, forced down some willowbark tea, and asked for someone to saddle his horse. The troopers had stared at him, seen the determination in him despite his awful wound, and had done his bidding. He’d mounted awkwardly and sat for a while trying to regain his breath; then he’d walked the horse to the grave under the mossbark and bowed his head.

  “Rest easy, brave Donal. I’m so sorry, laddie. I wish you were coming back home with us now,” he said softly, then he’d turned the horse and headed back to Messton.

  Cade had thought that Rowan simply wouldn’t be able to keep going, but he had. He was exhausted, his sleep haunted by nightmares and pain, but he was unstoppable.

  “Rowan, you must stop and rest,” Cade had said on about the third day.

  Rowan shook his head.

  “Not yet, Cade. Soon, but not yet. We need to get a bit further before we can stop. I brought these lads out here and I’ll damned well get them home if it kills me.”

  “You daft bugger. It probably will!”

  “Then it will… it doesn’t matter.”

  **********

  15. “… we lost so many good men…”

  Rowan walked to the centre of the camp at Messton, where his surviving troopers were waiting for him. Gods, they’re a bloody ragged looking lot, he thought, not that I imagine I look any damned better. And Cade was right… they’ve given up. Well, I’m not bloody having it.

  “Well, lads, we’ve made it back to you,” he began, “There were times when I thought we mightn’t, but here we are. Some of us are the worse for wear and I’m sorry to have to tell you that Trooper Donal Fergusson of Den Bissen was killed at Trill, poor brave lad. But the good news is that Rollo and the worst of his murdering scum are all dead…” There was a cheer from several of the troopers.

  “Lads, I’m… I can’t believe that you’re all still here waiting for the bloody Commandant to send the backup troops. I truly thought you’d be safely home by now,” he shook his head slowly as he waited for the weary muttering to subside, “Now, I don’t know about you lot, but personally I don’t believe that at least one of our despatches hasn’t got through. And that being the case, I can see no reason for the old bastard… your pardon, for the Commandant not to have relieved you.” He tried to hold his temper in check, but his weary eyes were fiery. “A bloody blind man could see that he’s chosen to abandon us here… and why? I truly don’t know. I find it… incomprehensible. And I find it unforgivable.” Some Den Siddon men were nodding to themselves as those from other garrisons looked shocked at Rowan’s bluntness.

  “So… we have two options now, lads. Only two… and I have to tell you I’m not too bloody keen about the first one…But we can sit here in this bloody stinking mud and wait to die, which we all surely will, and sooner rather than later… or else we can get up off our backsides and try to get ourselves back to Den Siddon…” He heard the shocked gasps from the men and kept going as best he could. He’d shock them a lot more than that before he was finished.

  “Some of us won’t make it. Truly, lads, a lot of us won’t make it, and it’ll be the hardest, most dreadful and most heartbreaking thing you’ve ever tried to do… but I truly do believe that some of us will get back to our homes, back to our families… and enough of us will get back to make the bloody Commandant pay for abandoning us here like this.” He had the men’s full attention now. They were staring at him in amazement. Some had a sort of disbelieving hope starting to dawn on their faces.

  “That bastard Rollo couldn’t kill us and neither will the cursed Commandant. I’m not having it.” He stopped to get his breath. The healer had rebound his chest, but it was still very damned painful and difficult to breathe. Right now he’d sell his Gran for a few minutes of no pain, so that he might convince these men they must make the biggest effort of their lives. Simply giving the order wouldn’t do when they were so lost in despair and hopelessness.

  “But, Sir… how can we…? What can you…?” a corporal near the front of the men spoke up hesitantly.

  “I’ve got a plan in mind, I think. We passed a farm on the way back from Trill… tisn’t far and in a little while I’m going back there to borrow however many carts I can. I’m not going to be leaving anyone here to die alone, and I simply can’t think of any other way to transport our sickest men. It won’t be comfortable for them, I know that, but… well, ‘tis the best I can do. And those of us who can still ride, must ride, for as long as we can. If anyone has got a better idea, then now’s the time to speak up, please… no? Nobody?” Dammit, Rowan thought. Well, the farm it is, then. I hope the
y had a hell of a good hay crop this year, because we’ll need that to cushion the carts a bit. ‘Twill still be bloody hard for the poor men. Better than being left behind though. He looked around the gathered troopers. They looked less defeated somehow, and they were talking to each other, as they hadn’t been before. Maybe they really could do this. He got his breath again and kept on speaking quietly. He wasn’t one for long speeches, and it was very difficult with his broken ribs, but if that’s what it took to get these men believing in themselves again, so be it.

  “It’ll be a long, slow, bloody awful trek lads… and the healers don’t have anything much left to help ease our way, but ‘tis the only way I can see that there’s any hope at all for any of us to ever see our families again. And ‘tis the only way that the Commandant can be made to pay for what he’s done to us, and to all the poor men who’ve died here waiting for him. We will not let him beat us, and we will not let him leave us here to die like this.” He looked around him again and drew himself up as best he could.

  “We will have him, lads, I promise you… I will get as many of you home as I can, or die trying, and we will have him. I can’t promise you much, but I can promise you that.” The hope in the men’s faces was spreading. They knew that Red Rowan didn’t make idle boasts and he didn’t make promises that he wasn’t going to do his damnedest to keep.

  Now to kick their backsides a bit, he thought. Wirrans are such proud buggers.

  “But you’re going to have to do your bit too, lads. Do you truly want to be remembered as the brave troopers who were outnumbered, but still saw Rollo off, made him run for his worthless life… and then gave up and sat around in the cursed mud until they all died? The troopers who wouldn’t get up off their damned backsides to help themselves? The troopers who let their bloody Commandant get away with betraying them and all their comrades? No… I don’t think so… I think you have more pride in yourselves than that, and I know that you have more honour.”