Authors: Rachel Francis
“What does it say?” he said.
“I do not know, sir, it is addressed to you,” said Swofr. Barnes.
Capt. Wingrave took the scroll and unwound it.
Choppily translated in spots, Elijah made it out.
“Fortcaptain Elijah Wingrave of Fort Jenning,
I am your equal to the Sypass.
I have prisoner I wish to trade, has spirit.
Took this many days to beat name from mouth.
Peter Worthing.
My demands are list down.
He is alive--‘I learned from Chatwood Lowe, sir,’ is his message.
Send response.
Col. Jyrander.”
Elijah spilled ink on two parchment pieces as his quill flew across the page.
Blood around him.
Peter couldn’t see it, not well, with his swollen eyes.
He smelled it whenever he took too long to inhale; the scent clogged his lungs.
Living with pain, being beaten daily while asked ill-worded questions; it was the worst time of his life excluding the moment after Mary stiffly apologized for any misunderstanding they might have had and denied him her hand.
His cell door opened, and Peter braced for another round of punches and kicks.
Harsh laughter bit into his ears.
The rhythmic, and sometimes guttural, speech of the Sypass flowed from the broad man who had beaten him.
A translator stood nearby.
When he finished speaking, the broad man smiled.
“Col. Jyrander wants your understanding that Captain Wingrave has your message.
Talks are going for your release.
You are a good prison dweller for Endland.
Useless to us.
Col. Jyrander honors your name,” said the translator.
Peter gasped.
He’d been sure of dying in this horrible place.
“Thank you,” he said, tears stinging the infected cuts on his face.
Col. Jyrander said more.
“Thank your Captain.
Without trade, you would stay,” said the translator.
They left him with ale and bread, which he consumed with fervor.
Peter would see light and home again, and that gave him cause to strengthen his body.
His men stood at attention like bowstrings as Capt. Wingrave met Col. Jyrander at the border.
The Colonel looked the Fortcaptain over with an amused grimace before he spoke into the dead quiet of the plains they'd chosen to make the exchange.
The Endland translator began, "I have long wanted to see you in person, Captain Wingrave.
They call you a courageous leader.
Your youth makes me appear foolish."
Elijah kept his face stony though a smirk lay underneath.
"I do what is needed.
Where is my soldier?"
Col. Jyrander inclined his head; a particularly large man carried Peter under one arm and dropped him in front of his Captain.
Peter groaned and cursed.
Elijah's eyes flashed.
"We agreed he would be in good condition," he said.
Col. Jyrander smiled, and replied.
"Col. Jyrander says alive is good," said the translator.
The Sypass hooked their horse to the cart of goods and materials, Peter's price, and backed away from the line of Endlanders.
Though he wanted to, Elijah made no more reply to the enemy commander.
"Get the stretcher," ordered Capt. Wingrave.
He knelt down and turned Peter onto his back.
His injuries were severe and needed immediate disinfection.
Looking into his swollen face, Elijah registered his own feelings of friendship toward Peter.
He had enjoyed their mental chess game and teaching Swtnt. Worthing, an astute pupil.
"Worthing?"
"Sir," Peter wheezed, opening one eye to a squint.
"Did you know that Endland does not permit negotiating with the country's goods for prisoners of war?"
"No, sir.
How…?"
"That entire cart was from my personal stores."
Peter cringed.
"I will take my punishment, sir," said Swtnt. Worthing.
Capt. Wingrave breathed out, so relieved he smiled.
"It won't be as horrible as some.
You've done me a great service by continuing to live."
"Aye, sir.
Does… she know?"
Peter let his eyelid shut, though the discomfort plainly showed.
"She's ecstatic.
I permit you to retain hope," said Capt. Wingrave.
"Thank you, sir."
Peter passed out as soon as his head lay on the stretcher.
Though Peter Worthing would never know it, the Captain stayed with him until he could be assured that his charge would wake again.
A fortnight crawled by, then another, and finally an express came for Lord Worthing.
After assuring the ladies that Peter had been rescued, he took to his study to examine the letter.
He came back to the drawing room after a full half hour’s absence.
“What else, Papa?
What else do you know?” said Emily.
She held one of Bridget’s hands and one of Genevieve’s while Lady Worthing gripped the back of a chair.
“He is most definitely alive.
Capt. Wingrave has invited me to visit him, in a hospital near Fort Jennings, and to report back to you all, but I am essential to Charlton just now, as the harvest is days away,” said Lord Worthing.
“I will go,” said Emily and Bridget together.
“Can I come with you?” said Genevieve.
“No, I will go,” said Lady Worthing.
Lord Worthing looked at the four of them and nodded.
“Emily and Bridget will go.
Genevieve, you stay, and you my lady, will also stay.
If you are to travel to Dunbarrow for the winter, this trip would be too much,” he said.
Lady Worthing protested, “Emily has also been unwell.”
“Even so, I am in better health now.
You have not yet left Tripton, Mama, and this journey will be difficult, in more ways than one, “ said Emily.
Lady Worthing relented, proud of Emily’s renewed spirit.
“I’ll be sending Aloysius with you, Emily.
It is a long way for two women by themselves,” said Lord Worthing.
“As you wish, Papa.
We will leave as soon as may be,” she said.
The family celebrated even more that night, until the sisters insisted on packing their trunks, which took the rest of their time before exhaustion forced sleep.
Denton, the gutted community on the Endland side of Fort Jennings, had been stripped of all but essential war services.
There were ten men for every one woman, and Aloysius turned away more than one wandering eye.
They secured a room at the local inn, and got direction from the innkeeper to the correct hospital.
Bainheart Hospital, a repurposed manor on the outskirts of Denton, had been a fine estate in its day, before the war had damaged the surrounding property.
Being so close to the border, Denton itself was a shabby excuse for a village, having changed hands many times over the last few decades.
Emily and Bridget thanked their father for suggesting they pack clothes that would not stand out as a marker for thieves.
As lawful as the inner fort might have been, Denton had no constables.
Bainheart brought tears to Emily, not only for the sad state of the house, but for the recovering patients taking advantage of the grounds outside.
In several instances, pieces of flesh were missing; the easiest way to prevent infection from spreading when medical help was unavailable.
In others, the patients seemed so traumatized that they simply stared at the horizon.
Once more glad for her extensive education, Emily thought that she might be sick if she had never heard of such conditions before.
Bridget kept her eyes fixed on the ground.
“Let us find Peter,” said Emily.
A kind nurse pointed them to Peter’s room, though Emily motioned for Bridget to wait outside with Aloysius at first.
Peter looked as if he’d been kicked in the face by an errant horse.
Bandages covered one eye and bruises shaded the rest of his skin.
Traveling three-quarters of the way across Endland was nothing to seeing her brother in such a state.
Emily floated in, so light with the surrealism of the moment.
“Peter?
Are you awake?” she said.
He twisted his head to see her with his open eye.
“Emily?
Is it really you?” he said.
Peter propped himself up on his pillows and reached for her.
She gladly, but gently embraced him and wept.
Not so much of a hardened soldier, Peter cried as well, very aware of the rarity of his situation.
“I came in Papa’s place so that he would not miss the harvest.
I could not direct the farmers if something went awry, “ she laughed when they parted.
“It is just as well.
I would not want my parents to see me this way,” he said.
“They will get a fair enough description.
Bridget, please come,” said Emily.
“Did you make her wait outside?” inquired Peter.
“I wanted to be sure that… it would not cause nightmares,” said Emily.
“That is a legitimate concern,” he sighed, “Where is my Bridget?
My rascal in arms?”
Bridget rushed in, and gasped.
“You look awful!” she said.
Bridget embraced him with much less care, eliciting several groans and wounded chuckles.
“If I had any pride left, you might have killed it right then, sweet Bridget,” said Peter.
“If I had any care for your pride instead of your body just now, I might not have said it,” said Bridget.
The girls settled on each side of his bed.
“What happened?
I’ve had the sparsest of information about all this,” said Emily.
She rubbed his hand between her two palms.
Peter let out a loud sigh.
“I called attention to myself on the battlefield to provide a distraction for our troops.
We were losing ground that would have seriously hampered a major supply line, so I began acting above my rank to entice the Sypass to target me.
Instead of killing me, they captured me for ransom,” said Peter.
His one eye, though puffed and red, looked with guilt on his bedsheets.
“You… sacrificed yourself?
Are you mad?” cried Emily.
He closed his eye and swallowed.
“I am so sorry.
Given the chance, I would do it again, but it was still foolish.”
“Pray, don’t tell Mama or she’ll do the job for the Sypass,” said Bridget.
Emily left the bed and paced around the room, highly agitated.
Peter smiled.
“I haven’t had a proper lecture in that tone since I left home.
Here, it’s all measured disapproval in the form of Capt. Wingrave,” he said.
“And that’s another thing.
In all your letters, you never mentioned he was your commanding officer,” she said.
“I did not want to cause you pain by associating my time here with him.
I’m afraid it’s unavoidable now.”
He adjusted his blankets revealing a cast on his left leg.
“Was it broken?” Emily inquired.
“Twice.
Capt. Wingrave ordered whatever was mended be broken again because the Sypass hadn’t cared to set it for me,” said Peter, “Though I think it was a bit of punishment for his losing a fifty-year-old bottle of brandy in the deal.”
Emily laughed despite herself, as did Peter and Bridget, a joyous sound none thought they would hear again.
They talked until Peter began to tire.
“Before you go, Capt. Wingrave left this for Papa, when he visited.
I suppose you should have it instead,” said Peter, pointing to a letter on the stand beside his bed.
Emily took it, and gave Peter a kiss on the forehead before departing.
She read it on the way to the inn.
“To Lord Worthing,
I would be honored if you called on me during your visit.
Merely tell the guard at Fort Jennings that you wish to see me, and that you are Swtnt. Worthing’s relation.
I would wish the opportunity to make my apologies in person.
Capt. Wingrave.”