The Cavalier Club by Stanley Goldyn

Author:Stanley Goldyn [Goldyn, Stanley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction, Europe
ISBN: 9780994414236
Publisher: Woodslane Press
Published: 2018-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

* * *

Christmas

There were sounds. Distant sounds. Now drifting nearer and louder. The world had no light, only sounds. A chirping melody hovered above Jack’s head—a birdsong, faraway yet strangely close and clear. Looking up at the sparsely leafed branches of the oak tree near the lake’s shore, Jack searched for the source of the song, but he couldn’t find it; he couldn’t see the bird whose pretty song warmed him with its tune. Open your eyes wider and look harder, he thought, motivation growing more intense.

Jack’s eyes snapped open suddenly and resolutely. His gaze did not find oak tree branches or a bird, however, but a stark white ceiling. He was staring at a ceiling. He caught the sounds of the song again and tried to ascertain the source, turning his head slowly to his left, where his eyes fell upon the window behind which an unseen bird was serenading him with its mellisonant notes. His thoughts confused him. If he was not at the lake’s edge in the forest south of Lomnice, then where was he? He had slept well, he remembered. A sleep that was unbroken until the clarion call shortly after dawn. Volkov. That troublesome Cossack. Mischievous man. Where is he? Jack wondered as his eyes moved around the room in search of his friend. He couldn’t see while lying on such a flat pillow. He needed to sit up and get a better view.

Jack abandoned his attempt to sit up after it resulted in burning, keening pain that racked his entire body in violent stabs of agony. Thinking, on the other hand, was painless. He was relieved to discover that the use of his mind, head and eyes brought him no discomfort. He tried his throat. First he gave a subtle cough and then followed that with a groan and a murmur. This was fine. Taking a deeper breath, he spoke aloud, counting to five. His ears worked well too. Despite some soreness in his chest, he could speak. He counted louder again without a problem.

“Volkov!” Jack yelled finally, repeating the name as loudly as he would dare after a short moment. The door to his right opened, and the wounded officer turned his head to follow an attractive young lady’s entry into his room. She was a slightly-built young woman of around 20. Her long waves of sandy hair were hidden under a neat bonnet of pale blue, not dissimilar in colour to her sparkling eyes. She wore a matching blue apron over a tawny jacket and full-length skirt that barely moved as she walked. Her voice was sweet and reassuring, like that of one accustomed to caring for ill or incapacitated people.

“Lieutenant Channing,” the woman voiced in excellent German as she arrived, almost gliding, at the side of his bed. Her face beamed warmth and sincerity like a beacon. “It is truly good to have you back with us. How are you feeling this morning?” Her look of concern only slightly detracted from her genuine geniality.

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