The Battle Has Ended, Continued
For Part I: Click Here.
. . . . .
After discovering the depths of Nurse Bleehune's hatred toward the noble Solomaine cause, I attempted no further communication with her. I realized ever more surely as the day wore on to an early nightfall that I needed to attempt to escape and join whatever resistance remained in Solomaine. I was concerned, however, that to leave Major Thomhowll behind would seal his fate at the hands of these heartless conquerors. But, after much thought, I decided that I was in no position to help Major Thomhowll no matter what fate was being prepared for him, and I owed it to all Solomainers not to simply give in, but to fight until either I was no more or these evil days had fallen behind us.
During the early evening, only Nurse Bleehune entered our tent, quickly tending to Major Thomhowll's bandages or dropping off a tray of gruel for my nightly repast. And, once every half hour, a guard would stick his head into our tent and mutter in the most guttural Crygian, “All right in here, then,” and quickly be on his way. I took the long interspersed periods of silence, punctuated only by Major Thomhowll's moans, to put together the meager accouterments for my escape. I knew I needed to brace my leg somehow, or I wouldn't be able to walk over ten feet from our tent. I scanned the tent for possible braces, but it was barren other than our two cots and my now empty dinner bowl. In a moment of misplaced inspiration, I swung the large wooden bowl to the packed dirt floor, hoping it might split into two serviceable parts, but this only resulted in flecks of barley being spread across the bedding on my cot. The cot itself was fashioned from rude canvas, supported by a weak bamboo framework. I hesitated to tear apart my only refuge, but I decided that I could cling to nothing now but escape or death. I rolled to the ground with a flinch and busied myself in tearing apart my woolen bedding and then attempting to pull the bamboo sticks from the cot. I was soon frustrated, however, by the dizziness that overtook me from the throbbing pain in my leg. It was a pain more intense than I remember ever feeling before, and I am certain I passed out several times in what seemed to be the hours I attempted to pull the cot apart. But I knew I could not give up now, for the next time Nurse Bleehune or a guard entered the tent, they would immediately see what I had been up to. And I almost wept with joy when I heard the canvas of the cot finally begin to rip, and within minutes I was wrapping my leg with the brace of bamboo and gray wool.
I needed to rest for at least three quarters of an hour once I had fashioned my rough splint. I cannot describe how hard it was for me to sit in dire quietness for that painful period, every minute fearing I might be discovered and all my work amount to naught. But luck remained with me, and with time I felt well enough to stand up. But as soon as I got to my feet, the whole tent began spinning, and I fell to the ground again. As I lay on the hard floor, I felt something smooth and cool touching my hand. And to my great surprise I realized it was a persimmon that I had plucked from a roadside tree on our long march to the battle. All memory of it had escaped me until now. It had rolled out of my saddle bag into a dark corner of the tent and lain undiscovered by the pillaging swine that had stolen most of my possessions. I brought the persimmon to my mouth, and I tasted that it was not yet ripe, but even the bitter, astringent flesh gave me renewed vitality. I surged to my feet and broke free of the tent. I stumbled perhaps five more feet and came to rest at the side of the looming outer wall of Pelosio. I was in dark shadows, but my flesh froze as a drunken guard turned the corner and walked not two feet away from me. I should not have feared that the brutish senses of a Crygian could have detected me, but a kind of mania from the pain and excitement had overtaken me, and I began to shiver uncontrollably. The man shuffled by, and I began taking deep, full breaths to prepare my starved muscles for my next move. As I sat there in the cold, clear night, I could not help but be astounded by the size of the army encamped all around me. We, my comrades and I, had no idea of the slaughter we were marching toward just three days past, as we joked and cheered when we saw the city before us, our pennants and flags waving so proudly in the dry, pellucid air. As far as I could see, the campfires of the great Crygian force spread across the plain that surrounded Pelosio on three sides, and the raucous cheers of celebrating bands of soldiers filled the night. To my right, close by the city walls and extending to the cliff above the ocean, I could make out what must be the Parnafelian prison camp. I was taken aback when I saw their condition. These poor souls, our staunch allies who had fought and died alongside us, had not even been granted the dignity of the tent afforded to Major Thomhowll and me. They lay in rough chains under the cold night sky, guarded by the most fearsome looking Crygians, who stalked among them leading vicious dogs, kicking any who made a movement or even the slightest noise. The howls of those who were left to die without any comfort chilled me to my core.
I ventured to stand again, and to my surprise, the harsh dizziness was kept at bay. I held close to the city walls, walking north away from the Parnefelian encampment. I found that I was making my way behind a series of medical tents, their fronts opening away toward the busy plain. But I soon found my way stymied by a guard not ten yards distant guarding one of the minor gates to the city. His back was turned to me, as he brusquely motioned tradesmen and soldiers through the portal.
I stood there for some minutes, not certain what to do. I thought of rushing forth and strangling the guard, with hopes of making my way into the city and assassinating whatever local factotum I could discover. But a silent disgust rose within me at attacking a man from behind while not in battle. And I must admit to a growing hebetude as the strain and exertion of the day caught up with me and the cursed dizziness began to return. So, in silent befuddlement and disgust with myself, I fell down again to the dusty ground in a patch of weeds. I know not how long I sat their with bitter tears running down my face, when I was kicked in the shin by a dusty form.
“This be my sleeping place. Hie now, get out of here!”
I did not know how to respond to this sudden salutation in coarsest Crygian; in fact, it took several minutes for the meaning of the words to sink to my brain. This was too long for the course ruffian, who took it upon himself to kick me again.
“Ye heard me, pack it up and move on, uncle.”
“Excuse me, man,” I managed to reply, trying to gain some time. “I'm not sure what you're asking of me.”
As soon as I spoke, the angry expression melted away from his pocked and besmudged face, and a look of intense interest took its place.
“What have we here, my lucky laddie? This be no Crygian deserter. If I know my stars, this be a Solomainey horse-rider.”
I cursed my stupidity for speaking, but I knew now I had to try to fool this simple camp follower, which I did not imagine could be too difficult a task.
“Thou art, of course, mistaken, my friend. I am not from Solomaine, but a Crygian, the same as thyself.”
“You're as Crygian as my dear mother's fanny, and she was born in Postastula as sure as my name's Flost. You see, I'm only half-Crygian myself; I can spot your kind a mile off.”
“Please, man, I beg of you ...”
“My name's not man, I tell you, it's Flost. Though I can't fault ye for not catching that, as you're not looking too well on't.”
“ ... I beg of you,” I continued, “I'm only trying to return to my home and my dear family. Leave me be, in the name of all that you can muster that's good within you, and find another hideaway for yourself.”
“Oh, I ain't thinking on turning you in to them guards, no I ain't thinking that. I've had my own tangles with them guards.”
“Then what, man, can you possibly want from me?”
“Well, first off, I'd like you to call me by name. And, second, I'd like to know how much you'd like to get past yonder gate and find yourself whistling a tune on the other side of this sturdy gate,” he said, as he tapped his hand against a brick in the immense wall.
“You must be kidding me, man,” I exclaimed, “I'd give anything to be on the other side of that wall, with a sturdy bodkin under my cloak.” This exclamation took everything I had, and I slumped to the wall.
“It's Flost, are ye deaf?”my new friend began, but just at that moment, the worst occurred. A bright lantern light was shone in our faces, and a cry rose into the air.
“Here, here, we've caught the Solomaine fugitive!”
. . . . .
After discovering the depths of Nurse Bleehune's hatred toward the noble Solomaine cause, I attempted no further communication with her. I realized ever more surely as the day wore on to an early nightfall that I needed to attempt to escape and join whatever resistance remained in Solomaine. I was concerned, however, that to leave Major Thomhowll behind would seal his fate at the hands of these heartless conquerors. But, after much thought, I decided that I was in no position to help Major Thomhowll no matter what fate was being prepared for him, and I owed it to all Solomainers not to simply give in, but to fight until either I was no more or these evil days had fallen behind us.
During the early evening, only Nurse Bleehune entered our tent, quickly tending to Major Thomhowll's bandages or dropping off a tray of gruel for my nightly repast. And, once every half hour, a guard would stick his head into our tent and mutter in the most guttural Crygian, “All right in here, then,” and quickly be on his way. I took the long interspersed periods of silence, punctuated only by Major Thomhowll's moans, to put together the meager accouterments for my escape. I knew I needed to brace my leg somehow, or I wouldn't be able to walk over ten feet from our tent. I scanned the tent for possible braces, but it was barren other than our two cots and my now empty dinner bowl. In a moment of misplaced inspiration, I swung the large wooden bowl to the packed dirt floor, hoping it might split into two serviceable parts, but this only resulted in flecks of barley being spread across the bedding on my cot. The cot itself was fashioned from rude canvas, supported by a weak bamboo framework. I hesitated to tear apart my only refuge, but I decided that I could cling to nothing now but escape or death. I rolled to the ground with a flinch and busied myself in tearing apart my woolen bedding and then attempting to pull the bamboo sticks from the cot. I was soon frustrated, however, by the dizziness that overtook me from the throbbing pain in my leg. It was a pain more intense than I remember ever feeling before, and I am certain I passed out several times in what seemed to be the hours I attempted to pull the cot apart. But I knew I could not give up now, for the next time Nurse Bleehune or a guard entered the tent, they would immediately see what I had been up to. And I almost wept with joy when I heard the canvas of the cot finally begin to rip, and within minutes I was wrapping my leg with the brace of bamboo and gray wool.
I needed to rest for at least three quarters of an hour once I had fashioned my rough splint. I cannot describe how hard it was for me to sit in dire quietness for that painful period, every minute fearing I might be discovered and all my work amount to naught. But luck remained with me, and with time I felt well enough to stand up. But as soon as I got to my feet, the whole tent began spinning, and I fell to the ground again. As I lay on the hard floor, I felt something smooth and cool touching my hand. And to my great surprise I realized it was a persimmon that I had plucked from a roadside tree on our long march to the battle. All memory of it had escaped me until now. It had rolled out of my saddle bag into a dark corner of the tent and lain undiscovered by the pillaging swine that had stolen most of my possessions. I brought the persimmon to my mouth, and I tasted that it was not yet ripe, but even the bitter, astringent flesh gave me renewed vitality. I surged to my feet and broke free of the tent. I stumbled perhaps five more feet and came to rest at the side of the looming outer wall of Pelosio. I was in dark shadows, but my flesh froze as a drunken guard turned the corner and walked not two feet away from me. I should not have feared that the brutish senses of a Crygian could have detected me, but a kind of mania from the pain and excitement had overtaken me, and I began to shiver uncontrollably. The man shuffled by, and I began taking deep, full breaths to prepare my starved muscles for my next move. As I sat there in the cold, clear night, I could not help but be astounded by the size of the army encamped all around me. We, my comrades and I, had no idea of the slaughter we were marching toward just three days past, as we joked and cheered when we saw the city before us, our pennants and flags waving so proudly in the dry, pellucid air. As far as I could see, the campfires of the great Crygian force spread across the plain that surrounded Pelosio on three sides, and the raucous cheers of celebrating bands of soldiers filled the night. To my right, close by the city walls and extending to the cliff above the ocean, I could make out what must be the Parnafelian prison camp. I was taken aback when I saw their condition. These poor souls, our staunch allies who had fought and died alongside us, had not even been granted the dignity of the tent afforded to Major Thomhowll and me. They lay in rough chains under the cold night sky, guarded by the most fearsome looking Crygians, who stalked among them leading vicious dogs, kicking any who made a movement or even the slightest noise. The howls of those who were left to die without any comfort chilled me to my core.
I ventured to stand again, and to my surprise, the harsh dizziness was kept at bay. I held close to the city walls, walking north away from the Parnefelian encampment. I found that I was making my way behind a series of medical tents, their fronts opening away toward the busy plain. But I soon found my way stymied by a guard not ten yards distant guarding one of the minor gates to the city. His back was turned to me, as he brusquely motioned tradesmen and soldiers through the portal.
I stood there for some minutes, not certain what to do. I thought of rushing forth and strangling the guard, with hopes of making my way into the city and assassinating whatever local factotum I could discover. But a silent disgust rose within me at attacking a man from behind while not in battle. And I must admit to a growing hebetude as the strain and exertion of the day caught up with me and the cursed dizziness began to return. So, in silent befuddlement and disgust with myself, I fell down again to the dusty ground in a patch of weeds. I know not how long I sat their with bitter tears running down my face, when I was kicked in the shin by a dusty form.
“This be my sleeping place. Hie now, get out of here!”
I did not know how to respond to this sudden salutation in coarsest Crygian; in fact, it took several minutes for the meaning of the words to sink to my brain. This was too long for the course ruffian, who took it upon himself to kick me again.
“Ye heard me, pack it up and move on, uncle.”
“Excuse me, man,” I managed to reply, trying to gain some time. “I'm not sure what you're asking of me.”
As soon as I spoke, the angry expression melted away from his pocked and besmudged face, and a look of intense interest took its place.
“What have we here, my lucky laddie? This be no Crygian deserter. If I know my stars, this be a Solomainey horse-rider.”
I cursed my stupidity for speaking, but I knew now I had to try to fool this simple camp follower, which I did not imagine could be too difficult a task.
“Thou art, of course, mistaken, my friend. I am not from Solomaine, but a Crygian, the same as thyself.”
“You're as Crygian as my dear mother's fanny, and she was born in Postastula as sure as my name's Flost. You see, I'm only half-Crygian myself; I can spot your kind a mile off.”
“Please, man, I beg of you ...”
“My name's not man, I tell you, it's Flost. Though I can't fault ye for not catching that, as you're not looking too well on't.”
“ ... I beg of you,” I continued, “I'm only trying to return to my home and my dear family. Leave me be, in the name of all that you can muster that's good within you, and find another hideaway for yourself.”
“Oh, I ain't thinking on turning you in to them guards, no I ain't thinking that. I've had my own tangles with them guards.”
“Then what, man, can you possibly want from me?”
“Well, first off, I'd like you to call me by name. And, second, I'd like to know how much you'd like to get past yonder gate and find yourself whistling a tune on the other side of this sturdy gate,” he said, as he tapped his hand against a brick in the immense wall.
“You must be kidding me, man,” I exclaimed, “I'd give anything to be on the other side of that wall, with a sturdy bodkin under my cloak.” This exclamation took everything I had, and I slumped to the wall.
“It's Flost, are ye deaf?”my new friend began, but just at that moment, the worst occurred. A bright lantern light was shone in our faces, and a cry rose into the air.
“Here, here, we've caught the Solomaine fugitive!”
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