Drew Read online

  * * *

  “My beloved Rosemary. I will be honored to take your hand in marriage when this war is won. My glory in battle will only be second to my glory of marrying you. I know it will not be the wedding we envisioned for ourselves, but we shall have our love and our countrymen. There will be nothing more we can need.

  * * *

  It pains my heart that we shall be away from each other for so long, but I must do my duty by leading my men to war. Do not fear for me though, I shall not die. The Highlanders shall not have my head as a war prize. We shall drive them back into their lands and teach them they should never threaten the English again. We shall avenge the lives lost in the last war, and all those who have fallen to Scottish blades since then! Furthermore, I have received word that your father will be joining the fight. We shall rendezvous with him near where I believe the battle will take place.”

  * * *

  With that he kissed her on the hand and strode away, ready to take his place at the front of the battle.

  * * *

  “See, he does have his charming moments,” Catherine said.

  * * *

  The moments were too few and far between though, and punctuated by acts of sheer cruelty. Never would Sarah forget the way he had treated George, or the way he had threatened her by telling her how she had to act. The war could provide her only escape, and if an opportunity came then she would have to make the most of it.

  * * *

  “I'm sure you're looking forward to seeing your father again,” Catherine added.

  * * *

  “Indeed. It will be good to see him, although I would rather it be in different circumstances,” Sarah said. She had no idea if Lord Brambly would grant her request. For all she knew he would come in and throttle her for daring to pretend to be his daughter. It was as though the world was closing in on Sarah, and there was little chance for her to escape.

  * * *

  “I am fortunate that my own father is not here,” Catherine continued, seemingly oblivious to Sarah's inner turmoil. Sarah had become quite good at hiding her despair. “He would take charge and Harold would be quite upset. I think he wants to use this battle to show Father that he has finally grown up and is a man in his own right. If Father even cares about what is happening up here. He's been far too concerned with the goings-on in London. I don't imagine he'll care too much, unless Harold makes some tremendous mistakes.”

  * * *

  “Aren't you afraid?” Sarah asked, trying not to make her voice tremble. Catherine looked at her strangely, and then chuckled.

  * * *

  “What should I be afraid of?”

  * * *

  “Of the Highlanders, of being caught in battle, of dying?”

  * * *

  “Oh Rosemary, you are a funny one. It's not as though we shall be on the front lines charging into war. War is not a woman's business. We will be quite safe back here. It is the men you should be worried about. They are the ones who have to charge into the fray. I do not envy them, although I am pleased that Harold chose to bring us along. It is quite exciting.”

  * * *

  “Exciting is not the word I would use for it,” Sarah muttered under her breath. There was a loud blow from a bugle and the army began to move. The carriage moved slowly at first, but it quickly gathered speed and began rocking to and fro.

  * * *

  “How would you describe it? There is no better place to witness the entire spectrum of human emotion. There is death, glory, love, and honor. I remember when I was younger my father would regale me and Harold with tales of battle. Our eyes were wide, and I knew that one day I wanted to see it up close.”

  * * *

  For the first time Sarah actually pitied Catherine, for she was so naive.

  * * *

  “I would not be so quick to hope for such a thing,” she said.

  * * *

  “Why ever not?”

  * * *

  “Because seeing the results of war is not a thing one should desire. I...my handmaid,” Sarah said, catching herself quickly so as not to reveal the truth to Catherine, “lost her parents in the last war. I remember how she described it to me once. The Highlanders came into their village and killed all the adults. Her father hid her under a table and told her to close her eyes, but she could still hear everything that happened. They didn't even try to fight. They begged for their lives, but the Highlanders wouldn't listen. They just laughed.”

  * * *

  Sarah closed her eyes just like her father had asked, and she put her hands over her ears as well, but nothing could block out the sound of her parents' screams as they died. The Highlanders left as though nothing had happened. Sarah crawled out and cradled the bodies of her parents. She was covered in their blood. She never even got the chance to say goodbye. It was only later when an English army came through that they found Sarah. “My father saw what had happened and took her with him, but she never forgot that day,” Sarah said.

  * * *

  Reliving those memories was a painful experience, and made her realize how sorry her life had been. She tried not to think about those memories too much, even though sometimes when she closed her eyes she couldn't help but see the lifeless faces of her parents staring at her.

  * * *

  Catherine wrung her hands.

  * * *

  “Well, I'm sorry for your handmaiden. That does sound rather awful, but it's not like you or I have anything like that to worry about. Harold will never see that any harm is done to you,” Catherine said.

  * * *

  Unless it's from his own hand, Sarah thought about adding, but then she thought better of it. Catherine was quiet after that, as was she. The thought of talking about anything other than war seemed meaningless, and she didn't want to spend the entire time making herself miserable by thinking about the past.

  * * *

  Often she wondered what her life could have been if her parents had never died. She would certainly not be in this position, and even though her life would have been humble and without consequence to the wider world she would have preferred that. She could have found a good man, someone like George, and raised a family together. She would not have had to worry about being killed in war, or a husband who loved a lie, and she would not have to pretend to be someone she was not.

  * * *

  Part of her almost wanted the lie to be over just so she did not have to endure the stress and hardship of living a lie any longer. She did not have the courage to reveal the truth herself, but she would not have minded had Lord Brambly arrived earlier and uncovered the truth. At this point Sarah wondered if she was better off dead. At least then she would be able to be reunited with her parents.

  * * *

  “Catherine, do you think the poor can have good lives?” she asked.

  * * *

  “Why do you ask?”

  * * *

  “Well, their lives do not have much consequence on the world at large, and they cannot live in luxury like we can. Is there any reason for them to go on living?”

  * * *

  Catherine considered the question for a few moments. “I suppose they must find their joy somewhere. They are probably happy in their misery. Not everyone can handle the responsibilities of nobles of course. We are a privileged few, but we have been blessed by God because He has ordained that we can handle the running of the country. The peasants are free to do as they please. I suppose they can have good lives based on their own standards. They can be happy, they can have children. At least they can choose who they marry and are not waiting at the whims of their father.

  * * *

  Do you know what would be funny? I have often thought of acting like a peasant for a few days, just to see what it is like. I think it would be a grand adventure to experience life as they live it. I think I would make a good peasant,” she said, leaning forward as if to give the impression of slumped shoulders.

  * * *

  Sar
ah smiled politely, even though what Catherine proposed was highly offensive. Sarah was quite sure that Catherine wouldn't be able to endure a life of hardship. She was used to having everything done for her. Living as a peasant would be quite the rude awakening.

  * * *

  “Sometimes it is better if we keep to the roles God chose for us,” Sarah said.

  * * *

  “Indeed, you are quite right. I do not think we should seek to change positions in life. It would only lead to confusion.”

  * * *

  Sarah only wished Rosemary had done the same thing. None of this would be happening if she hadn't run away from the camp that night. Sarah still didn't know what had happened to her. If she had been carried away by a Highlander then she was probably already dead. At least Sarah hoped she was, for being held captive by the Highlanders was probably a fate worse than death.

  * * *

  The journey was long, lasting hours and hours. Sarah looked out the window and watched the world go by. The huge armies marched across fields rather than go through the forest, for the thick trees proved difficult terrain. Occasionally the army stopped for water and food. Squires ran to a nearby river to fill up waterskins and rushed back. Food was shared around. Spirits were quite high.

  * * *

  It seemed as though the soldiers were eager to get the fighting underway. There had been peace for the better part of two decades, and most of the men were young. They had not seen the horrors of war firsthand. They had only heard the stories told to them by their fathers and grandfathers. They were in love with the idea of finding honor and glory on the battlefield. Sarah was one of the few who knew the true horrors.

  * * *

  There were some older heads who were cautioning the younger men about being too quick to rush into battle, but the younger men were not listening. Sarah felt terribly for all of them. It just didn't seem right to her that two cultures should clash, costing so many lives, and for what? For land? For honor? There didn't seem to be much honor in the waste of life. She wanted to shake sense into all of them, to show them how cruel and nasty war was, but she knew it wouldn't make any difference. She was but a lone voice, barely a whisper.

  * * *

  Soon enough the army was on the move again. Every moment brought Sarah closer to her inexorable destiny. Dread filled her. She was sure that this battlefield would claim her life at least, despite what Catherine thought. Either she would be killed by the enemy, or by Lord Flynn when the truth was revealed. She was certain that Lord Brambly would not keep her secret, not when his daughter's safety was in jeopardy.

  * * *

  And how could she blame him really? She'd been there many times to witness how he doted over Rosemary, and how he always said that he would do anything to protect her. In some ways it was her own fault. She should have tried harder to stop Rosemary from running away. Maybe if Sarah had been a better handmaiden it would be Rosemary in this situation rather than her, but then again Sarah wouldn't wish that either.

  * * *

  Knowing Rosemary as well as she did, Sarah knew that she would never have been happy being the bride of Lord Flynn. She would have fought back against him and would have felt the back of his hand more often than Sarah had. Rosemary was far too spirited to be what Lord Flynn wanted in a wife. It seemed an impossible situation, with nobody getting what they wanted.

  * * *

  There was only one way out, although it loomed over her like a shadow. She tossed different ideas around inside her mind while the carriage rolled on, but nothing else presented itself. The only option she had to ensure her own safety was to escape the army and run into the woods at the first chance she got. It would be a great risk of course, as there was no telling what dangers lurked in the woods, but at least she would not be burdened by a secret any longer. At least she would not have to live a lie.

  * * *

  The army came to a stop. The tension in the air was palpable. Sarah leaned out of the carriage to look at the men and they were all getting themselves ready for war. Some of them looked pensive, others were eager to get started. Some, she could tell, were trying to keep themselves from weeping.

  * * *

  The door to the carriage opened. Lord Flynn was standing there. He helped Catherine out, and then beamed at Sarah.

  * * *

  “This is it! The time is almost upon us!” Harold said, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

  * * *

  “I wish you well,” Sarah said, her eyes darting around furtively, just in case Lord Brambly was anywhere to be seen.

  * * *

  “We received a messenger saying that your father was delayed. He should be here presently,” Harold said, puffing out his chest as he breathed in the air around them. “But he should hurry otherwise he may find that the battle has already been won!” he boasted.

  * * *

  “You should not be so confident yet. From all reports the Highlanders are savage enemies,” Catherine said.

  * * *

  “Indeed they are savage. They are mindless brutes who do nothing but attack. They have nobody the equal of me. I have a strategic mind, you see. I have studied under the best. Father saw to that, and I shall make him proud that I am his son.”

  * * *

  Lord Flynn turned to Sarah and saw that she was troubled, although for entirely different reasons than he suspected.

  * * *

  “Do not fret, my beloved. The war will not last long. It will be a swift victory for the English, and then we will be wed. Even though I shall be leading the troops I will not die. It is not my time. God has many plans for me yet, including raising a family with you. This is going to be the start of the rest of our lives together, and it will be glorious.”

  * * *

  “I am sure you will make us all proud,” Sarah said.

  * * *

  “I will, Rosemary. I will show you the kind of man you are marrying. Before I am done this field will be soaked in the blood of the barbarians.” He leaned forward to kiss her hand again, then strode away with his head held high. He acted as though this was what he had been born for, but Sarah wondered if he wasn't being as foolhardy as all the other young soldiers who welcomed war.

  * * *

  Sarah turned away, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  * * *

  “It will all be well, Rosemary. My brother will not die. He is far too stubborn for that,” Catherine said lightly, trying to comfort Sarah. She was unable to stop the tears from falling though. Soon Sarah's eyes were wet with warm tears. They trickled down her face, and her body trembled. Catherine's arms opened in a comforting embrace and she held Sarah tightly.

  * * *

  “I know you are scared, but we shall look after each other. We are the only friends each of us has, and we must look out for each other,” Catherine said softly.

  * * *

  This only made Sarah weep more forcefully, and had her face not been buried in Catherine's shoulder her wails would have echoed through the camp. Catherine caressed her back in an effort to comfort her, and whispered that everything was going to turn out for the best.

  * * *

  Sarah wasn't weeping for that though. She wept because she would have to leave Catherine, who indeed was her only friend. Like Rosemary, Sarah would have to run away and then Catherine would be left to find out the truth from Lord Brambly. Sarah only hoped that Catherine wouldn't feel too betrayed, but Sarah's mind was made up. She was going to leave as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

  * * *

  Some time passed as the army organized itself and the men fell into ranks. It was quite a sight to see, and Sarah dried her eyes to witness it. She and Catherine remained behind with the carriages and wagons, along with other servants, squires, and medics. The air was heavy with the weight of what was happening. A battle was never a lighthearted affair, and the closer it came to beginning the more people grew anxious.

  * * *

&nbs
p; For a moment, when all had been arranged, everything was still. The air was tranquil, and it seemed entirely peaceful. Sarah afforded herself a moment to look around at the surrounding area, at the blue sky overhead, at the lush green trees framing the field, and the bright green grass under their feet. It seemed a shame that such a place of natural beauty would be marred by the ugliness of war.