Beyond the Fire

by Dewayne A Jackson

  “Are you hurt, sir?” the boy asked.

  “Just a scratch,” Philip responded, but his stained shirt, pale face, and trembling limbs belied his words.

  “You need help,” the lad stated. “I’ll get someone.”

  Philip closed his eyes and felt a strange comfort. He thought of Katherine, and a smile touched his lips. When someone called his name, he wanted it to be Katherine, so he was a little disappointed to find Peter Sikes looking down at him.

  Philip’s mind returned to the battlefield. “Peter,” he whispered, “call off the pursuit!”

  Sikes was clearly annoyed. “But, sir!” he resisted. “Many have turned to us in this battle, and the others flee before us!”

  “Too many have died!” Philip coughed. “Call off the pursuit, and let those who flee consider their plight tonight.”

  “But they have made their choice!” Peter persisted.

  “Many who fight for us now were aligned with the enemy this morning,” Philip said. “We must give them time to reconsider.”

  “Yes, sir,” Peter said reluctantly. Turning to a fellow officer, he gave the order to call men from the pursuit.

  A trumpet sounded and men slowly gave up the chase. Returning in small groups, some began to put out fires the enemy had set in its retreat. Others began to search for family or friends among the casualties.

  Philip was eased onto a pile of cloaks, and Peter bathed his wound. Drawing a needle and thread from his pack, Peter began to close Philip’s injury. Philip was a fortunate man. His wound was large but not deep. With a little care, he would heal.

  When Peter was finished, Philip asked for a piece of paper. Quickly he wrote a note to Master Rhoop. “Where is my boy?” he asked.

  The lad who had found him stepped forward, “Here, sir!”

  “I have an errand for you, son,” Philip said.

  “I’ll do anything, sir,” the lad replied.

  “I know,” Philip said. “You’ve proved yourself more than once today already. Take this note to Master Rhoop at Stonewall. Tell the guards you have a message from Philip Stafford, and they will let you through.”

  “Yes, sir!” The lad grinned from ear to ear. He was about to leave when Philip spoke again.

  “Just a moment, lad,” Philip said. He tore a second piece of paper and began jotting another note. “Do you know Katherine Gammel?”

  “I should hope so,” the lad said. “I’ve seen her on the streets of Sebring many times.”

  “Good man!” Philip said, smiling. “You have two notes now. The first goes to Master Rhoop, and the second to Lady Katherine. You should find both inside Stonewall. Are you able to deliver these notes for me?”

  “Yes, sir!” the lad said as he turned and raced toward Stonewall.

  CHAPTER 55

  New Revelations

  Several days had passed, and Katherine watched through one of Stonewall’s many windows as Mary made her way toward the cemetery. I think I’ll join her, she thought as she hurried down a long hallway. She stepped outside into the sunshine and moved quietly behind Mary.

  “It’s good to see you out and about, Mary,” Katherine said.

  Startled, Mary spun around and blushed deeply. She noticed Katherine studying the cloak she wore with its hood pulled over her head. She flushed a deeper shade of red. “I … couldn’t go out in public … without …” she stammered.

  Katherine touched her friend’s arm. “Of course, you couldn’t!” she cried. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “It’s too warm to be wearing a cloak, isn’t it?” Mary asked.

  “It’s all right.” Katherine laughed.

  “It’s just that I have no … hair.”

  “I know.” Katherine patted Mary’s arm. “It fell out after your fever. I would do the same thing.”

  “I was hoping no one would recognize me,” Mary said, blushing again.

  Katherine laughed outright and hugged Mary tight. “You are wonderful, Mary. I’m so glad to have you for a friend. But why are you here?”

  The smile slipped from Mary’s face. She turned away and leaned against the cemetery fence. “This is where I feel closest to everyone I knew.”

  “Mary!” Katherine exclaimed. “Why?”

  When Mary looked up, her eyes were moist. “Lady Katherine,” she said, “I’ve lost everyone I know. My father, mother, husband, and baby are all gone. You are my only friend. Soon I will be well, and I will have to leave you, but I don’t know where I will go. I doubt anyone would receive me now.”

  Katherine grabbed Mary’s hands. “Then stay with me,” she pleaded. “Please don’t go! More casualties come every day, and we are already overwhelmed. Stay and help me, please.”

  Mary’s eyes widened. “But—”

  Katherine placed a finger over Mary’s lips to stop her protest. “I know how it feels to be alone,” she said. “My mother died years ago, and my father is off to war. My cousin turned traitor, and Philip is …”

  Now it was Mary’s turn to comfort. It was no secret that Katherine was in love with Philip. Mary also knew that Katherine had not heard from Philip in days. “Then you haven’t heard from him since that first night?” Mary asked.

  “No,” Katherine said, pulling a well-worn scrap of paper from her pocket. “This is all I have of him,” she said, handing the treasure to Mary.

  Mary touched the paper reverently, and her eyes asked if she should read the inscription.

  Katherine nodded. “Go ahead; read it.”

  Mary opened the note and read, “The Lord is faithful! Amity is His! Keep praying! Signed P.” Mary’s eyes grew wide, and she asked, “Is this all he wrote?”

  Katherine bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering. She could not trust her voice, so she only nodded.

  Mary slowly sank to the ground. How often had she longed for some word from Bill and never received it? She felt bad for her friend. Katherine settled on the ground beside her, and tears slid down both women’s cheeks.

  Some days later, Katherine returned to the room she shared with Mary. Opening the door, she spied her friend quietly brushing the white fluff appearing on her scalp. Mary caught sight of Katherine staring and said brightly, “Look! I have hair!”

  Katherine smiled and thought of all the disappointments that had come into their lives. Mary seemed to be coping so well. Now, if only Philip would write, she thought. “Let’s do something different today,” she said impulsively.

  Mary turned to her friend. “What about the hospital?”

  “It’s our day off from the wards,” Katherine said brightly. She didn’t really have anything in mind, but a plan was rapidly forming. “I want to visit a house in Waterfront. Would you like to come with me?”

  The women giggled like schoolgirls as they made their way across the river and through the winding streets of Waterfront. It was a lovely day, and after the oppression of the hospital ward, the outing brought some much-needed relief.

  “Do you know your way to this house?” Mary asked.

  “I think so,” Katherine responded.

  “You’re not sure?”

  “It was dark when I was there.”

  “What if we go to the wrong place, and a handsome young prince answers the door?” Mary asked.

  The girls giggled. “The only man I saw that night was handsome enough but a little too old!” Katherine laughed.

  “Keeping him for yourself?” Mary teased.

  The town was busy. People seemed oblivious to the fact that only a few miles away a war raged, threatening to tear Amity apart. There was no immediate danger here, so life went on.

  The markets teemed with people bartering for tomatoes, potatoes, and fish. Goat’s milk was ladled through open kitchen windows into waiting containers. Children played in the streets, tossing dust or chasing each
other with sticks.

  The girls were amazed that everything seemed so normal. They had just left the halls of Stonewall where wounded soldiers were a grim reminder of the travail that still gripped the nation.

  But here in the streets of Waterfront, the war seemed distant. The carnival-like atmosphere charged the girls’ senses and filled their hearts with expectancy.

  Pushing on, the girls left the markets behind and slipped quietly into the residential outskirts of town. Katherine tried to retrace her steps but found she had forgotten much since that fateful night.

  Finally they turned into a street she remembered. Several homes had been burned to the ground, but most remained functional. The girls became quiet as Katherine recounted her movements that night to Mary. This part of Waterfront seemed somber and quiet.

  “Here it is!” Katherine exclaimed as they turned a corner into a narrow street. She grabbed Mary’s hand and began to pull her toward the house.

  Something was wrong. No children played in the street; no milkmen ladled their wares. All was quiet and pensive.

  Mary slowed her pace. “Are you sure we should disturb these people?”

  If Katherine heard Mary’s question, she did not respond. She marched straight to the house in question and knocked on the door. When there was no immediate response, Mary repeated, “Maybe we shouldn’t bother them.”

  Katherine looked through the window. She was reluctant to abandon their mission.

  Mary clutched her arm. “Come along, Katherine. Let’s leave this place.”

  “I think … yes, someone is in there,” Katherine said. “They either didn’t hear me, or they didn’t want to answer the door.”

  “Maybe they don’t want to be bothered,” Mary said. “Let’s go!”

  “Don’t be a goose, Mary,” Katherine responded. “I was curious before, but now I simply have to find out about these people. We’ve come too far to turn around now.”

  “Please!” Mary begged. “There’s something wrong here, Katherine. I think we should leave.”

  “And miss an adventure?” Katherine laughed. “Besides, I think someone is coming. I saw movement in the hall.”

  “Don’t spy on them,” Mary pleaded.

  Both girls were startled when the door suddenly swung open, and a gruff old woman appeared. “What do you want?” she asked suspiciously.

  Katherine suddenly wavered. “I’m sorry,” she began. “I was looking for a house where an old man lived with his daughter and grandchildren. I saw them on the night of the disturbance some weeks ago, and I was wondering … how things were going?” Katherine suddenly realized how ridiculous she must appear to this woman, and she wished Mary had succeeded in making her leave.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the old woman said, and she was about to shut the door.

  “Sister.” A feeble voice drifted out of the house. “Let her in.”

  The old woman scowled, staring intently at the girls.

  “Let her in!” the voice said again. “There was a young woman on a grand horse that night, and I should very much like to see her again.”

  The old woman stood her ground and whispered, “Have a care for the dying. You should have left us in peace.”

  “Dying?” Katherine found her voice and her courage. “We work in the hospital wards in Stonewall,” she said, pointing to Mary. “Maybe we can help.”

  The old woman wavered, and Katherine pushed her way inside. “Where is he?” she asked.

  Reluctantly the old woman turned and led the pair into the dark, musty little house. “He’s in here,” she said, pointing to a little room off the hall. The room was clearly a bedroom, but the curtains were drawn so tightly that little else could be seen of its contents or occupants.

  Katherine glanced at Mary, and both women stepped into the room. After their eyes had adjusted to the light, they perceived a young woman sitting beside a bed that held an older man.

  “Come in,” the young woman said. “Father is anxious to meet you.”

  “Why?” Katherine managed to ask.

  “Lass,” the old man said softly. “I saw you the night of the riots. I joined Master Philip and saw you again when you rode into the camp. You probably don’t remember me, but I remember that the horse you rode carried two women.” The old man looked at Mary. “Were you the other woman?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Mary said quietly, “but I’m sure my appearance has changed since that night.”

  The old man whispered, “You were both in bad shape that night. I am glad to see you are healing.” The old man sudden grasped Katherine’s hand. “I wanted to thank you, young lady, for giving me purpose for my life.”

  “I don’t understand,” Katherine responded.

  “I love my daughter and her children,” the old man said feebly, “and I joined Philip to protect them.” The old man looked lovingly at his daughter, who clutched his other hand between hers. “But when I saw you in the camp that night, torn and bruised, and I learned that Devia’s men had done this to you, I was determined to stay with Philip and fight to protect not just my own family but also those I did not know.”

  Katherine sat on the edge of the old man’s bed, holding his free hand in her own.

  “I have wondered about your welfare,” the old man said. “When you rode into camp, you were torn and bruised almost as bad as your horse. To see you alive and well makes me feel that my sacrifice was worth it.” The old man leaned back and closed his eyes, and his daughter kissed his fingers gently.

  “Is something wrong?” Katherine asked hesitantly.

  “Good heavens, child!” the old woman exclaimed. “The darn fool went off to war and lost a leg!”

  Mary and Katherine stared at each other in horror. “I’m so sorry,” Katherine managed to say. “I didn’t know!”

  “Of course you didn’t,” the old lady scoffed. “How would you know?”

  “How did it happen?” Katherine asked quietly.

  The old man stirred and raised his head.

  “Don’t try to talk, Papa,” the man’s daughter pleaded. “Save your strength.”

  “Nonsense, Hilda,” the old man said. “This girl knows Master Philip. She should be told.”

  Hilda bowed her head, and her father continued, “I stayed with Master Philip, even after many others left. I felt I had another mission to complete, though I didn’t know what it was.”

  The old man took a deep breath. “My small effort will never be remembered, but I am satisfied I have done my job.”

  Katherine’s curiosity overwhelmed her, and she asked, “What happened?”

  “The morning after you came into our camp, we marched nearly to Capri. We took our stand with Master Philip, and I watched him fight one battle after another. I was able to help drag the most badly injured men to the rear, but suddenly I found the battle raging all around me. I had no weapon, so I darted back and forth, trying to avoid horses and men, but someone knocked me down, and horses trampled the earth all around me. I thought I was a goner, but suddenly everything grew quiet. I could see everyone had left except Master Philip and two men from Devia’s army.”

  “Listen to him talk!” the old woman sneered.

  “Then what happened?” Katherine asked breathlessly. Mary and Hilda leaned forward too, hanging on every word, while the old man’s sister sulked near the door.

  “Master Philip was fighting with a man not far from where I lay, and he was taking a beating. I inched closer, wondering what I could do to help him, but having no weapon, I felt rather helpless. Then I spied the broken handle of a spear nearby, and I grabbed it up. I hadn’t moved more than a foot when a horseman charged past me and struck Master Philip down!”

  Katherine gasped, but the old man continued. “Philip jumped up, but now he had two men with which to contend. I wondered what I co
uld do. The horseman attacked Philip again, and I couldn’t see what was happening, but when I next saw Philip, he was down. The man nearest me was attacking Philip left and right. I couldn’t move fast enough to help, but suddenly Philip kicked him hard and sent him reeling my way. I aimed my stick at the falling man, and his full weight drove my broken spear through his body before he fell on me, forcing my leg down on the edge of a broken sword. The man never moved again, and I thought how silly I’d been not to notice the sword lying there. I thought my life would end right there, but someone discovered me, and though I lost a leg, I’m sure I helped spare Master Philip’s life.”

  The old man closed his eyes. Telling his tale had given him much satisfaction, but it had drained him of any remaining energy.

  Katherine felt her heart pounding. “You … saved Philip’s life!” she whispered.

  The old man nodded. “Though no one knew.”

  Katherine wiped the tears from her eyes. “I know,” she said. “And you will always have my undying gratitude. What else can I do to thank you?”

  The old man’s head sank onto his pillow. “Just look after Master Philip, and I’ll be happy.”

  “You have my word,” Katherine said.

  “Thank you,” the old man whispered.

  Hilda clung to her father as both she and Katherine wept openly. Hilda was losing her father, and Katherine had nearly been robbed of Philip. Both women were feeling their loss acutely. Katherine rose and circled the bed to give Hilda a hug.

  “Neither of you should weep for me,” the old man whispered. “I have found my peace, and I give the Creator of heaven and earth my thanks and praise.” The old man sighed, and the room grew silent.

  “The curse of Hefington is complete,” the old woman said. “Now you have seen your show, so be off with you!”

  “Hefington?” Mary whispered. She had remained silent, but now she turned to the old woman. “Did you say the curse of Hefington?” she asked.

  “Aye,” said the old woman. “Every male by that name has disappeared from the face of the earth. My brother was the last, so be off with you!”

  “But I knew a Hefington in Capri,” Mary argued. “In fact, he helped me escape.”