Page 14 of The Forsaken
“I’ll get some water,” Kate said, and walked to a shallow stream a few feet away. She knelt, cupped her hands, and drank, then splashed some of the fresh, cool water on her face. It felt pleasant and refreshing after several hours in the saddle. Her bottom hurt and her legs vibrated with tension. It’d been years since she’d spent so many hours on horseback.
She returned to the horses and searched Osbert’s saddlebag for something to carry water to him. He had brought a bundle of food and a skin of ale. Kate decided to pour out the remaining ale and fill the skin with water. Osbert still sat leaning against the tree, his eyes closed and his hands folded in his lap, as though sleeping.
Kate walked back to the stream, rinsed out the skin, and filled it with the cool water. Osbert hadn’t woken by the time she returned. She longed to get going, but the man looked so poorly she decided to give him time to rest. She walked about for a bit to stretch the soreness out of her back and legs. After a few minutes, her anxiety began to mount. She felt exposed and vulnerable. She looked at the position of the sun, judging the time to be well past noon. They had to get going if they hoped to get back to the Grange at a reasonable hour.
“Osbert,” Kate said softly as she took the man by the shoulder. When he didn’t respond, cold fingers of dread clenched her heart. She knew with certainty he was dead. “Osbert!” she cried, but there was no one to hear her save a few birds perched in the tree.
Kate yanked her hand away from the dead man. What was she to do now? It would be the decent thing to bring Osbert home so he could be buried next to his wife, but she couldn’t possibly get him on a horse. It seemed wrong to leave him there by the side of the road, like a dead badger, but she didn’t have a choice. Perhaps her father would send someone for Osbert’s body tomorrow. She rummaged inside the saddlebag, searching for a blanket to cover him, but didn’t find one. She’d have to leave him as he was and hope the animals didn’t get to him during the night and make a meal of his innards. The thought made her queasy and she turned away.
Kate considered taking the bundle of food and the skin of water but changed her mind. If Osbert had sickened from something in the village, the food and drink might be tainted. But she had to take Osbert’s horse. Her father would be angry if she left a perfectly good animal. Kate used a fallen log to mount, grabbed Osbert’s horse by the reins, and returned to the road. She could still make it home before dark if she didn’t make any unnecessary stops. With only her rosary for protection, she wished she’d taken Osbert’s dagger. She’d never use it on anyone, but having it might have made her feel a little less vulnerable.
The road was deserted. Kate saw several farmhouses in the distance as she continued toward home, but didn’t come across any travelers. The sky was a cloudless blue, and the sun still rode high in the sky, but the deceptive warmth of the April afternoon began to ebb as evening approached.
She came to a fork in the road and stopped, having no idea which way to go. She’d been this way only once before, when her father escorted her to the convent, and she hadn’t paid much attention—not that there was anything to use as a landmark. It was all woods and fields. She’d passed a small hamlet about an hour since, but just rode right through, not wishing to attract attention to herself. Perhaps she should have stopped. She was hungry and tired, and the horses could have used a rest and bucketful of oats, as well as water. They were ambling along, having been on the road since early morning.
Kate remained at the crossroads for several minutes, trying to decide which way to turn, when she saw a lone rider approaching her. She experienced a moment of panic, but the young man didn’t look threatening despite the sword at his side. He looked disheveled and weary, his doublet covered with rust-colored stains that could only be blood. Kate gripped the reins but knew she wouldn’t try to flee. She’d never outride the young man. Her horse snorted and pressed its ears back, as though sensing Kate’s anxiety.
“Are you all right, Sister?” he called out. He smiled and his face went from somber to friendly, reassuring her.
“Ah, yes. I’m afraid I’m lost.”
“Where are you headed?”
“I’m headed to the village of Belford,” Kate replied. She didn’t tell the young man that her father owned the village and everything beyond; there was no need for him to know that.
“My master is headed in that direction as well. Perhaps you can travel with us.”
“And where is your master?” Kate asked. The boy looked too bedraggled to serve anyone of consequence.
“He’s just over yonder,” he said, pointing toward a wooded area down the road on the right. “I’m Walter Coombs, squire to Hugh de Rosel.”
“De Rosel?” Kate asked. She was sure she’d heard the name before, but it might have been William de Rosel, not Hugh. And then understanding dawned. “Were you at Towton, Master Coombs?”
The boy nodded miserably. He clearly didn’t wish to speak of what he’d seen and heard. Some squires were permitted on the battlefield, so perhaps he’d even fought alongside his knights.
“Was it horrible?” Kate asked, and Walter nodded again. He looked as if he were about to cry, but managed to get hold of himself.
“I’ve never seen such slaughter, Sister, or such suffering. It was beyond imagining.”
“Was this your first battle?”
“Yes,” Walter whispered. He seemed to rouse himself from his misery and looked purposefully at Kate. “Come with me, Sister. My master needs your help.”
“In what way?” Kate balked, afraid to be alone with a knight and his squire, who’d do nothing to protect her should his master think to harm her.
“My master’s brother is grievously wounded, Sister. He’s dying,” Walter replied. Tears filled his eyes. “Perhaps you can pray for him.”
Kate turned her horse toward the boy and came alongside him. The wounded man needed her, and although she had been mercilessly ripped from her religious life, she could still offercomfort and assistance. Walter seemed relieved that she’d agreed to accompany him and trotted alongside her.
Kate didn’t ask what side the de Rosels had fought for. It made little difference to her. She’d find out once she got home.Ifshe got home. It didn’t look as if she would arrive at the Grange this evening. Her father would be worried, and her mother would be frantic, but there was little Kate could do to put their minds at rest. She hoped that Hugh de Rosel would escort her home once his brother passed, or at least send Walter Coombs to show her the way.
Walter led Kate toward a ruin bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon. It must have been a church once, or more likely a chapel of ease, used by those who couldn’t get to the parish church in the nearest village. All that remained of the one-room structure was dilapidated stone walls, each boasting an arched opening that must have been a window once. Several charred beams were all that was left of the roof, which looked to have burned away. The path that led to the chapel was uneven, roots and grass growing unchecked between the stones.
Three massive horses grazed lazily beneath the still-bare trees, and a wagon was just visible behind the eastern wall. A body wrapped in a cloak lay in the wagon, the feet hanging off the too-short wagon bed. Kate was about to follow Walter toward the arched doorway when a man emerged, hand on sword, eyes blazing.
“Who…?” He instantly dropped his hand and bowed. “I’m sorry, Sister. I didn’t meant to frighten you. I saw a shadow and didn’t know if our visitor was friend or foe. Hugh de Rosel, at your service.”
The man wasn’t very tall, but he was powerfully built and exuded strength and vitality. His light blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he greeted her, but his cordial manner was forced. He must have been around thirty years of age, but at the moment, exhaustion and distress made him look much older.
