The Ladder: Part 1

by David Hodges

  Cameron pressed the knife down firmly on the stag’s neck as he sliced at it. The stag groaned as warm, dark blood gushed from the wound. Then he was silent.

  Daniel walked up behind Cameron, exasperated and melancholy at the same time. “I’ve never seen anything like that... he was so calm, like he knew.”

  Cameron rinsed his hand in the stream. Ribbons of blood formed in the water. He rose. “I think he did.”

  Daniel broke the silence that followed. “Well, let’s not get too sentimental. I’m about to weep over our dinner. I’ll get the horses.”

  2

  HAZEL

  Hazel’s honey brown hair poked out of her bundled down blanket. A ray of the morning’s sunlight warmed her lips. She opened her eyes with a soft groan.

  A mop of dark fur landed softly on her legs and made its way toward her chest, purring vigorously. His hair was thick, long, and matted. It looked like it had never shed. A large drop of drool formed on the large cat’s chin as he kneaded the comforter.

  Hazel shot her hands out from under the covers and squeezed Ollie tight. She planted a kiss on his forehead and placed him at her side. She threw her blanket off and walked over broadly cut wood boards to her wardrobe where she assembled a working outfit of layers including a dress and an apron.

  “Hazel!” her aunt called outside of her room. “C’mon pet, I know it’s your birthday but we have a lot of work to do today. You’ve got eight deliveries to run this evening, so you need to be quick about your chores.”

  Hazel opened her door triumphantly. “I’m up!”

  Her aunt smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “Happy birthday, Hazel. I’ve got a genuine feast planned for you this evening. Your brothers hunted deer this morning so we’ll even have venison.”

  “I can’t wait!” exclaimed Hazel.

  “I know you won’t want to miss a course at supper so work devoutly today. There’s toast and eggs on the table.” Aunt Beth hugged her and turned away.

  Hazel wondered how much work would qualify as a devout effort. The soldiers were marching that afternoon, readying to embark on a voyage to the colonies across the sea. She had been looking forward to the event since it was announced. “Aunt Beth, do you think I’ll be able to see the departure ceremony today?”

  Aunt Beth pursed her lips and shook her head slowly and deliberately. “Sorry Hazel, some of those deliveries need to be made this afternoon.”

  Hazel’s heart dropped a touch, but she mustered a feeble smile. “You’re right.” She went to breakfast.

  The afternoon sun shined over a rich green pasture where a flock of Dishley sheep grazed. Several of the puffy sheep, overdue for a shearing, were settled in the lush grass. A pair of sheepdogs rested among the flock, leaning against their warm pillows.

  Hazel rode in on a small farm carriage and whistled as she approached a run-in shed.

  The dogs sprang up and bounded toward her as she stepped off the carriage. It was impossible not to smile at the sight of their long, muddied hair being thrown about. They must have just finished penning another flock. They came to a halt in front of her and sat while their tails flicked about behind them.

  “Good afternoon, girls!” She crouched down to embrace them both. Their warm tongues tickled her ears. She could not hold back a laugh. She put on a serious tone and said, “Alright,” as she stood up.

  The dogs took on an intense focus.

  “Fetch!” she shouted.

  The dogs ran full speed toward the flock, spurring the mass of sheep into motion. They flanked the wave on opposite sides and circled back like lassos cinching the herd together. The sheep ran toward a gate where they funneled into another fenced off portion of the pasture.

  “That’ll do!” shouted Hazel as she walked to the gate and closed it. She met the dogs at the shed where she grabbed a pair of buckets from the carriage and plopped them down before the eager pair. A savory meal of bread, milk, and boiled sheep feet. “Have at it.”

  The dogs gorged on their meals, sloshing through them as if they were starved, despite having had the same meal the night before. They washed it down with a few laps of water.

  Hazel loaded the empty buckets back onto the carriage, and with a farewell scratch of a dripping chin and a mud-crusted head, she departed toward the barn.

  When she arrived, Uncle George and Mr. Taylor were shearing a sheep. Mr. Taylor held down the nearly naked, squirming animal while Uncle George sheared his way through its thick wool. A woman and a girl were sorting the clippings, skirting them into neat packages.

  Uncle George called out to Hazel, “Happy Birthday, love,” just as he finished with the sheep and sent it off. He walked to her and gave her a big hug and kiss on the cheek, his bushy moustache tickling her face.

  Hazel smiled and handed him and Mr. Taylor their bags of food.

  “Just in time, I’m starving,” said Mr. Taylor. He pulled a biscuit from the bag and immediately commenced to eating it. “Appy Birfday, Hajel.”

  Hazel laughed. “I should’ve come sooner. And for you, Mrs. Taylor,” she handed out another bag, “I put an extra treat in for Phoebe.”

  Phoebe said in a bubbly voice, “Thank you, Hazel! Happy Birthday!”

  Mrs. Taylor said, “Thanks, pet, I hope you’re having a splendid birthday. Fergus was looking for you. He’s out at the coup fussing with that rooster.”

  Hazel laughed at the thought of her best friend being chased out of the coup by the boisterous rooster. “I’ll go give him a hand.”

  Not far from the barn, a lanky teen boy stood face to face with a two foot tall foe. “Come on, you stubborn arse! I just want a few of your ladies’ eggs.” The rooster strutted back and forth, bobbing his head at Fergus.

  Hazel called out, “He giving you problems again?” She walked toward the rooster and said, “You leave poor Fergus alone.”

  The rooster clucked off.

  “What! Why’s he do that for you? I walk to him like that and he flaps up at my face!” said Fergus.

  Hazel smiled and wrapped a hand around Fergus’s stick thin arms, then in an exaggerated serious tone said, “I think he must find you more threatening.”

  “Careful, Hazel, you wouldn’t want me to withhold your birthday present.” Fergus reached into his ill fitting vest, handed down from Mr. Taylor, and pulled out a small wooden box sealed with twine.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything!” She gave him a big hug.

  He handed her the box.

  “Can I open it now?” she asked.

  “Of course. I wouldn’t actually torment you.”

  She eagerly removed the twine and slid the thin wood top off the box. A simple cloth obscured its contents. She pulled the cloth out and felt within it a firm object just larger than the palm of her hand. She opened the cloth to reveal an off-white cylinder with ridges. It was decayed with brown smudges, chips, and scratches, but mostly intact.

  “Is it... some kind of bone?” asked Hazel.

  “It was...” replied Fergus. “It’s a pommel.”

  “From a sword!”

  Fergus smiled. “A Roman sword, must have been over a thousand years old, a Gladius they call them...”

  “Incredible! Where did you find it?”

  “At Raw Dykes closer to Aylestone, just after the last heavy rain. I was tempted to show you then, but I thought I’d better wait and surprise you.”

  Hazel knew what a treasure it must have been to him. Even amongst all the small relics he had managed to dig up over the years, this one stood out. “Fergus, it’s great, but don’t you want to keep it?”

  “Oh, I would, but mine’s better.” He grinned and pulled out a similar handle. “I found them together. Yours is a bit smaller, I think it may have been part of a sidearm.”

  “How do you manage to find these things? You really ought to make a living out of this. I think you’re already a better antiquary than any Leicester has to offer.”

  “I just got lucky, that’s all. I
was looking for artillery remnants from the civil war. The Royalists used the dykes as a staging ground, but these were a much better find...” Fergus’s gaze began to drift somewhere far away. “Only thing that could top Roman artifacts would be something Celtic, from the Iron Age or Bronze Age. I’ve got some proto-coins and tools, they’re in great condition. You can find an intact sword if it’s bronze, they forged the...”

  “Fergus,” Hazel said, “you’re doing it, and proving my point.”

  “Sorry, I’m working on it,” said Fergus as he rubbed the back of his neck. Fergus looked like he was searching for a coin in the mud as he returned to the present, “so, err... when are you planning on leaving for the deployment ceremony?”

  Hazel’s shoulders slumped forward, and she sighed. “I won’t be able to make it. I’ve got to run a few deliveries this afternoon... it’s okay though, there’ll be another soon enough. I’m sure.”

  “Not on your birthday there won’t...” a voice called from behind. Daniel strolled toward her and gave her a tight hug, lifting her off the ground for a moment before letting her boots back down onto the mud. “I’ll cover the first few deliveries pet.” He ruffled her hair. “You can take over after you’ve seen the ceremony. Consider it your birthday gift.”

  “Really? You don’t have to do that, Daniel. Your mum told me you already hunted deer for me this morning.”

  “Cameron can take credit for the venison. I’ll be eating it, too. Feels like a self serving gift to me, not to do Cameron discredit. I know you’ve been looking forward to the ceremony, go enjoy it for the both of us.”

  “Thank you, Daniel! I will!” Hazel hurled another hug at her cousin.

  Hundreds of onlookers focused their attention on a sea of red men. The distinct sounds of fife and drum filled the air, sharp percussion, and notes an octave higher than they ought to be. Several companies of a hundred men marched, not the entirety of the 17th Regiment but a large portion.

  Hazel and Fergus snaked their way through the crowd to a better view. “Why aren’t all the soldiers marching?” asked Hazel.

  Fergus said, “They may still be training a few of the companies or keeping them in reserve. I see six companies, that leaves four.”

  The marching companies carried out sets of precise geometric movements and handled their muskets to the command of a drum.

  Groups of young women in their best dresses and hats admired the disciplined men and all of their gallantry. Hazel was proud not to own the dresses that looked like they were hiding away umbrellas and the hats that looked like they were wrapped with knotted curtains. Some of the women had their fans out despite the cool October air. Hazel did own a fan, but she only used it as intended not as a means of frivolous flirtation.

  Hazel stared intently at the objects of their admiration. She wondered what laid ahead of them. What would their voyage be like? Where would they go? What would they see?

  “Are you enamored?” Fergus asked, waving a hand in front of her face.

  Hazel squinted at him. “Enamored? No... I envy them.”

  “Ah, that was my second guess. It is fanciful... a New World awaiting them, so vast, so unknown.”

  Hazel shook her head slowly and sighed, “And we haven’t even been off one island of the Old.”

  The drums stopped and the soldiers with them, officers of the companies walked toward the crowd and formed a line facing it. The crowd hushed, and a Major General commenced his speech. On one side of him stood a row of officers who had just left their formations, ordered by rank. On the other were several officers assigned to the companies that had not participated. At the end of this row, a young man focused his gaze ahead.

  Looking toward him, Fergus whispered, “Looks like John Hill will still be around to chat with you at assemblies.”

  Hazel glared at Fergus.

  Fergus shrank away. “Just a joke...”

  She harbored no resentment for John. He was polite and less forward than other young men in town. Her loathing was directed at courtship on the whole. Hazel had not even debuted and men were constantly eyeing her shamelessly, the same disgusting smirks on all of them. John was different. Hazel’s gaze rested on him more obviously than she realized.

  John locked eyes with her for a brief moment before quickly correcting himself. He blushed visibly.

  Hazel looked away. She wondered why this always happened with him. She did not mean to mislead him like that. “I should get going,” Hazel said to Fergus.

  “Already? I didn’t mean to distract you, Hazel.”

  “No it’s not that... Daniel will be waiting to trade horses. I’ve seen plenty. I’m not interested in hearing the rest of this speech.”

  “Okay, well I’ll come with you.”

  “No, you should keep watching. I’ll just be running those deliveries right away. I’ll send Daniel your way.”

  “Alright. I’ll see you at dinner then, don’t be late for your own celebration.”

  Hazel smiled and left. She navigated her way through the crowd toward her horse, then rode away from the garrison to meet Daniel at the edge of town.

  Daniel stood by a small wagon with four large sacks in it. He smiled and waved at Hazel. “Did you enjoy the ceremony?”

  “Yes, it was a nice distraction. I left during the speeches. I was expecting to beat you here. You haven’t been waiting long, have you?”

  “No, I only just arrived. Glad you enjoyed it. I’ve done half the deliveries.” He handed Hazel a list of customers on a scrap of paper, the first few names were scratched out. “Is Fergus still watching?

  Hazel was distracted by a name that was conspicuously skipped on the list—Hill. She looked up at Daniel, “...Fergus... yes, he’s still there, he’s not far from the stage, off on the right side.”

  Daniel mounted Hazel’s horse. “Alright, I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “Daniel, you left the Hill order on purpose, didn’t you?”

  Daniel grinned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” With that, he turned and rode toward the garrison.

  Hazel sighed, then boarded the wagon and said, “Thanks again, Daniel!”

  He waved back at her and continued on.

  Hazel approached a large country home on a fine gravel road. The Hill order was her last delivery. She had completed the rest on her way there. She figured the whole household would have been at the ceremony if she was early enough. She hoped she could just leave an invoice and slip away. She approached the door and knocked. She heard footsteps coming to the door. Too late.

  A woman in simple clothes opened the door. “Good afternoon, Ms. Lewin, you’re here with the groceries I take it?”

  Hazel had forgotten about the servants. “Good afternoon. Yes, I am.” She handed her the bag.

  The servant handed her a few coins.

  Hazel said, “Tell Mr. and Mrs. Hill I said thank you.”

  The servant’s attention was captured by something behind Hazel. “It looks like you’ll be able to tell them yourself, miss.”

  Hazel turned to see a pair of carriages approaching the house. So close. Hazel waited as they arrived. Colonel Hill and Mrs. Hill stepped off one carriage accompanied by an older couple while John and his younger siblings exited the second.

  “Hazel! I’m glad we caught we you!” said Mrs. Hill.

  “Good afternoon, Hazel,” said Colonel.

  Hazel smiled and gave a small curtsey. “Afternoon, Colonel Hill, Mrs. Hill.”

  Colonel Hill said, “Mother, Father, this is Hazel Lewin, our neighbor. Her family grows the best vegetables in Leicestershire.”

  “Pleasure to meet you both,” Hazel said with another small curtsey.

  “We were in town to see the departure ceremony and see John off. Did you get to see the ceremony?” asked the elder Mr. Hill.

  Hazel thought she misheard him. “Err... I did see the beginning, yes. Where is John going?”

  “He’s deploying, didn’t you know?”

  “No
... I...”

  John spoke up. “We hadn’t had the chance to tell Hazel or her family. Sorry, Hazel, I was informed with short notice.”

  Hazel blushed. “No... no, you don’t need to apologize.” She thought quickly of something to say. “You weren’t marching. I thought the companies that were deploying would be in the parade?”

  “Normally, yes, but mine didn’t have time to rehearse. The others are all going to Boston.”

  “And yours?”

  John hesitated. “Further south.”

  “Oh... well, I’m sorry you’ll be leaving,” said Hazel with more sincerity than she would have thought herself capable.

  “Thank you...” He shook his head. “I mean... for the sentiment, not your sorrow.”

  “Conversation has never been his strong point...” said the elder Mrs. Hill as she touched Hazel’s shoulder.

  John blushed.

  “I see you delivered the groceries, you were paid I trust?” said Colonel Hill.

  “Yes, I was, thank you.”

  “Good, well we won’t keep you waiting any longer. Have a good evening, Hazel.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet you Hazel,” said the elder Mr. Hill. The women followed suit.

  Behind them, the children followed them inside, though the youngest girl lingered behind with John. She smiled at Hazel.

  “Go on with your brothers and sisters, Emily,” said John.

  She giggled and left.

  John turned to Hazel. “Hazel, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.” He pulled a paper bag from his jacket. “A small gift. I picked it up on our way out of town, don’t know if you like cocoa...”

  “Oh... thanks, John. How did you know it was my birthday?”

  “My father told me. He ran into your brothers while he was hunting.” He stepped toward her and handed her the bag.

  She reached to accept it.