by Barb Hendee
By the time she was halfway through, all the soldiers had stopped eating and were leaning forward, just listening.
Of course the young prince negated his curse in the end by undertaking one unselfish task, helping a village plagued by trolls.
Céline acted out the final battle with great flair.
The next tale was a comedy about three brothers vying for the love of an unworthy woman by playing foul tricks on one another. When Céline reached the point at which one brother tainted another’s bathwater with blue dye, the soldiers were laughing out loud.
Although Amelie had been enjoying the stories, too, she glanced back and noticed Jaromir watching Céline with the same gratitude as he had the night before.
At the sight of this, Amelie couldn’t help feeling useless again. She possessed skills and gifts, but entertaining other people was not among them. Though she longed to be useful, Céline’s gifts were simply much more . . . apparent.
Soon, everyone bedded down for the night, somewhat cheered both by the stories Céline had woven into the night air and with the hope of reaching their destination the following day.
But on that next day, Céline’s gifts only proved ever more visible and indispensable.
The morning started off well enough. Once they were packed and ready to leave, Jaromir mounted his horse and consulted his map. Amelie settled gingerly into the saddle of her black gelding and then rode up beside him.
“How far?” she asked, already gritting her teeth at the pain shooting up her spine.
“It depends,” he answered, holding the map down for her to see. “We’re going to have to cross the Vudrask River, so we have two possible routes from here.”
“Cross the river? Isn’t that the borderline between Droevinka and Stravina?”
“Generally, yes,” he answered. “But over the past hundred years or so, a few territories directly on either side have been traded. Ryazan is one of them.”
Drawing her attention back to the map, he pointed his finger at their current location and then began sliding it. “If we want an easier time of things, we turn off onto this wide northeast road, follow it all the way up to and around Enêmûsk, and then keep going until we reach this bridge.” He pointed to a symbol representing a bridge. “Once across, we can head west again, but that route will take us longer.” His finger moved back to their current location and then upward. “Or we can continue straight north on this current narrow path and ford the river here where the water is more shallow. Following that route, we should reached Ryazan by late afternoon.”
“Oh, the shorter one, please,” Amelie blurted out.
“Are you in a hurry to arrive there?”
“No, I am in a hurry to be off this horse. My backside will never be the same.”
Instantly, she regretted her words, expecting him to make some joke about her backside, but he simply nodded. “All right. Straight north it is.”
She rode behind him as he led the way, with Céline directly behind her. The single-file column did not leave much opportunity for conversation, but in a way this was better. She wanted to just focus on getting through one more day. If all went well, tomorrow she would not have to climb back onto this horse.
However, in the early afternoon, she heard the sound of rushing, gurgling water, and within a few more steps, the sound grew louder.
“What is that?”
“The river,” Jaromir answered.
The road broke through the trees, and he walked his horse down the bank to make room for those behind him. Following him, Amelie felt her first hint of doubt over her impulse to take the fastest route. When Jaromir had said “shallow,” she’d been envisioning slow water over a rocky streambed.
The sight before her looked nothing like the image in her mind. The river was wide and the current appeared swift. Through the water, she could see to the bottom and gauged that the depth would nearly cover the wagon’s wheels.
“You said it would be shallow.”
Jaromir glanced down at her. “This is shallow. This is the one place where barges can run into trouble.”
Céline pulled up beside them and went slightly pale. “We’re going to cross that?”
“Soldiers from the northern houses do it all the time,” he assured them. “We’ll be fine.”
After that, more horses came from the forest out onto the bank, and Jaromir started giving orders. “I’m going to take Amelie and Céline over first,” he called. “Pavel and Rurik, you help Bazin with the wagon, one of you on each side of the team.”
“Yes, sir,” they both called at the same time.
Amelie remembered that the stocky, middle-aged guard driving the wagon was the one whose wife had apparently thrown him out of the house.
But she didn’t have time to think long on this, as without delay, Jaromir nudged his horse forward. “Follow me,” he said.
With little choice, Amelie urged her gelding after Jaromir’s oversized chestnut stallion—named Badger due to his penchant for biting anyone he didn’t like. Amelie’s smaller horse didn’t hesitate, walking right into the water. She glanced back once to see Céline’s gray mare coming after them. The water rose to the level of Amelie’s mount’s stomach and the current rushed swiftly. The bottom of her gown and cloak were soaked, but her horse managed to keep walking at a steady pace, following Jaromir’s lead, and soon, all three horses broke into a trot as they reached the bank on the other side.
Céline was still pale, but she managed a smile. “Not so bad after all.”
Amelie turned to look back and see how the others were faring. The soldiers on horseback were having no trouble, but Bazin was trying to force the harnessed team into the water, and both horses refused. To help, Rurik leaned over and took hold of one bridle while Pavel did the same with the other. Jaromir watched tensely and then seemed to relax a bit as the team finally moved forward, pulling the wagon into the current.
“Well done,” he called.
As Amelie had guessed, the water quickly reached more than halfway up the wheels, and the team snorted as they struggled forward, with white ringing their eyes. Halfway across, it seemed they would make it without incident, but then the harnessed horse on the left side tripped over a rock and started to go down. It screamed out as it fought to right itself. Unfortunately, Pavel had been holding its bridle, and his horse panicked and tried to bolt. It slipped as well . . . going down with him in the saddle.
“Pavel!” Jaromir shouted, kicking his own horse back into the water.
Amelie watched helplessly as Pavel’s horse landed on him and then thrashed to jump back up. Pavel came off the horse, but his foot was still in the stirrup. Amelie heard a cracking sound over the rush of the water, and then he was free of the saddle but caught in the current.
Céline drew in a loud breath as Jaromir reached him and swung off his horse. Catching Pavel under both arms, Jaromir somehow managed to pull him the rest of the way across the river and up onto the bank. Pavel’s horse had managed to reach the bank as well. Céline was already running toward them, and then, finally, spurred from her shock, Amelie dashed after her.
Pavel was crying out in pain, and Céline was already giving orders.
“Jaromir, don’t move him anymore. Just lay him flat. It’s his right leg.”
The next few moments were a blur of confusion as more of the men came running over. Jaromir used a dagger to cut Pavel’s pant leg open, and Amelie put one hand to her mouth. She wasn’t squeamish, but the white bone of his shin was poking through his torn flesh.
“By the gods,” one of the soldiers said, “that cannot be fixed. He’s going to lose that leg.”
Pavel’s eyes went wide. “No!” He tried pulling himself up the bank.
Amelie wanted to punch the soldier who’d spoken.
But Céline was at Pavel’s head, talking to him. �
��Don’t listen to him. You won’t lose your leg.” She looked around as the wagon came up out of the river onto the bank. “Amelie, run and get my box.” She turned back. “Jaromir, I need flat boards. Can you break one of the apple crates and bring me several of the boards?”
Amelie and Jaromir both ran for the wagon. Amelie’s errand was quicker, as she simply needed to get Céline’s box and run back. She left Jaromir breaking the side off a crate.
“Here!” Amelie called, skidding to a stop.
Pavel was in so much pain, he was panting, and his features were twisted.
The box was large, and Céline opened it carefully. The inside was filled with bottles, jars, powders, and bandages. She took out a bottle filled with a white milky substance. “Amelie, hold his head.”
Amelie knew what to do and moved to cradle Pavel’s head.
“Swallow this,” Céline told him. “It will stop the pain.”
Her words must have gotten through, because he let her put the bottle to his mouth, and he took a drink.
“One more,” she ordered. “A large swallow.”
He obeyed her.
Everyone else just stood watching, but in a few moments, Pavel began to relax in Amelie’s arms. Carefully, she laid him on the bank, and his eyes closed halfway. Jaromir came jogging up with the boards.
“What did you give him?”
“Poppy syrup,” Céline answered. “He’ll be asleep soon. I have to set the leg, and you will not want him awake for that.” Scooting down, she frowned at the broken bone. Pavel’s boots were made of stiff leather and came halfway up his shins. “This boot must have protected his ankle and foot when the horse jumped back up, but then his leg took all the force.” She glanced at Jaromir. “We need to get the boot off without causing any more damage. I’m going to hold the leg, and I need you to slowly, very slowly, inch off the boot.”
For all his strength, Amelie suspected Jaromir was capable of being gentle, and he proved her right in the next few moments as Céline held Pavel’s leg below the broken section and Jaromir took his time inching the boot off bit by small bit.
Céline took a deep breath once it came away from Pavel’s foot in Jaromir’s hand.
“All right,” she said. “Now I need to cut off the rest of this pant leg and then set the bone.”
“Have you done this before?” Jaromir asked, his voice tight.
“Yes, many times. My mother taught me how to set everything from broken bones to dislocated shoulders.”
That seemed good enough for him, because he fell silent and let her work. She glanced up at Pavel to make certain he was out cold; then, with a scraping sound, she set the broken shinbone until the parts lined up perfectly and the leg was straight. After that, she quickly but carefully dabbed the jagged wounds around the bone with a cleansing and healing ointment made from adder’s-tongue. Then she splinted his shin with the narrow boards and began the slow process of wrapping them tightly with strips of bandages.
This took some time.
Wiping her head with the back of her hand, she finally said, “All right. That’s all I can do. The bone is secure, and it should knit. But he cannot travel until he wakes, and even then, we’ll need to make a space for him in the back of the wagon, so he can sit up with the leg straight. He can’t put any weight on it for weeks. Once he’s back home, he should be able to use crutches as long as he keeps his weight off.” Looking up at Jaromir, she hesitated. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to choose another man to remain with us in Ryazan.”
To Amelie’s puzzlement, a flash of relief crossed Jaromir’s face, as if a burden had suddenly been taken from him.
“Yes, of course.” He stood up. “We’ll make camp here and see if he’s fit to travel in the morning.”
Amelie raised an eyebrow. Why would Jaromir be relieved that Pavel couldn’t remain with them in Ryazan?
* * *
The following day, at midmorning, Céline pronounced Pavel fit to travel, and she supervised as Rurik, Jaromir, and Bazin lifted her patient into a cleared space in the wagon’s bed.
“Don’t try to help us,” Rurik told Pavel. “Just let us do the work.”
Once they had him settled, they leaned him against a large rolled-up piece of canvas, and he glanced down at his splinted leg. Céline had no idea how he was feeling. His expression was dark, and she guessed he was probably torn between gratitude that his leg had been saved and angry disappointment that he’d lost his place on the mission.
“Remember what I said about not putting weight on it,” she told him, playing the part of the healer to avoid speaking of anything else. “The bone must be allowed to knit.”
He didn’t answer and didn’t look at her.
She turned to Jaromir. “I think it’s safe for him if we press onward.”
Jaromir exhaled through his nose, as if considering something, and then he stood up in the back of the wagon. “Everyone,” he called out, “over here.”
Faster than Céline would have expected, all the men had gathered round. Amelie was among them, looking up at Jaromir curiously.
“Ryazan is not far up this road,” he began, pointing north. “Guardsman Rurik will stay with me, but I’m sending the rest of you back now.” Turning his body slightly, he motioned down a wide, well-maintained road to the east. “I don’t want you crossing the river again, so head east and use the bridge up above Enêmûsk.” He handed the map to Bazin. “Then head straight home and make sure Pavel stays off his leg.”
Almost everyone nodded in agreement . . . all except for Guardsman Rurik, who was aghast.
“Me?” he asked. “Sir? Shouldn’t you choose someone else?”
Jaromir wasn’t accustomed to having his orders questioned. “Guardsman?”
“What if Prince Anton needs a message sent to his father?” Rurik rushed on.
Jaromir’s jaw twitched. “He can send someone else.” His voice held an edge of threat, and Rurik fell silent, but he looked shaken.
Céline wondered why. She’d found him to be a good choice on Jaromir’s part. Rurik might not be as strong a fighter as Pavel, but he was steady and of a cheerful disposition, and on this task, those two qualities might be of more use. Why was he reluctant to stay? Had he heard any hints about what she and Amelie had come here to do? Even so, he was a soldier and didn’t strike her as someone easily frightened.
“Guardsman Voulter,” Jaromir said. “Tie the women’s travel bags onto one of the extra horses.” He continued giving orders in preparation for them to separate from the group, but Céline stopped listening.
She turned and gazed up the road to the north, forgetting about Rurik’s strange reluctance and Pavel’s broken leg.
Ryazan waited.
Chapter Four
By midday, the already narrow road had turned into little more than a path, but when Jaromir saw a clearing up ahead, he knew they’d arrived at their destination. As his horse broke through the tree line, he had no idea what to expect.
But . . . he had anticipated at least seeing a number of small buildings. From what he understood, Prince Lieven had had men stationed here for five years.
“Tents?” Amelie asked in equal puzzlement, pulling her horse up beside his.
Six enormous tents and numerous smaller ones were the only dwellings in sight. Behind the tents stood a large, makeshift wooden barn, but it appeared to be the only permanent construction.
Several soldiers in dark brown tabards—and carrying spears—turned their way, but they all froze as Céline rode up beside her sister and then Rurik brought up the rear.
Jaromir raised a hand in greeting. No one responded, and the soldiers milling among the tents stood staring at Amelie and Céline. These men appeared unwashed and on edge, with tight, anxious expressions. Following his instincts, Jaromir decided not to advance until someone approached him.<
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Finally, an overweight guard came walking over, gripping his spear but holding the point straight up.
“You lost?” he asked.
Two other guards came up behind him, looking even more unkempt up close. One was young, maybe seventeen, with long tangled hair and mismatched eyes: one blue, one brown. He appeared more skittish than edgy. His companion was a little older and taller, with two missing front teeth. The younger one hid halfway behind him, as if seeking protection.
But all three men continued to stare at Amelie and Céline.
Jaromir tensed at the complete lack of military discipline, and he pitched his tone to cold, angry authority. “I am Lieutenant Jaromir of Castle Sèone. We’ve been sent at the request of Prince Lieven. I would speak with Captain Keegan.”
There was still a soldier inside the rotund guard directly in front of him, because the man winced, as if remembering something forgotten. Then he straightened and touched his chest. “Guardsman Saunders, sir.” He pointed first to the youth behind him and then to the other man. “Guardsmen Graham and Ramsey.”
“Where is your captain?” Jaromir asked.
Saunders turned around. “This way, sir.”
Remaining mounted, Jaromir nodded to Amelie and then followed Guardsman Saunders through the tents. Many of the temporary shelters they passed looked years old, with patches and untended holes. It wasn’t raining, but the sky was overcast and gray, adding to the dismal quality of their surroundings. Saunders led them toward the back of the encampment to the second- largest of the tents—the size of a small house—only this one appeared newer than the others.
Jaromir dismounted and turned to help Amelie off her horse. She looked at his outstretched hands and seemed about to push them away, but he shook his head once, hoping she’d have the sense to play her part. Thankfully, she seemed to realize this as well and let him lift her down. Rurik was on the ground, doing the same for Céline.
“Announce us and then see to our horses,” Jaromir ordered.
