Windemere by J W Elliot

Author:J W Elliot [Elliot, J W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-08-09T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Battle’s Fury

Emilia couldn’t do it. She stood on the battlements with the still-unfamiliar bow gripped in her hand. She wore a thick padded jerkin that increased her discomfort in the rising heat of the day. The steel helmet was too big for her and she had to buckle it so tight that the chin strap pinched. As far as she could see to the jagged, blue-gray mountains in the distance, the rolling hills of Windemere spread out in alternating patterns of green and brown with the occasional blue line to mark a stream or pond.

Over it all flapped the dark blue standard with the silver tree of the Baron of Windemere and the light blue standard with its band of silver stars for Lady Selgrave. The late morning breeze stretched the banners out over the heads of the thousands of men come to retake the castle.

Sweat beaded on her upper lip. She raised a trembling hand to wipe it away. What was she thinking? All around her, strong men, archers with long experience in battle, silently watched the lines of soldiers spread out over the field below them like a disease.

She spun and leapt down the steps, conscious of eyes that turned to watch her retreat. Bursting through the door of the gatehouse, she dropped her bow and threw the helmet from her head. It clanged against the hard-packed earth as she leaned against the wall and slid to the ground, grasping her head in her hands. She had to get control of herself.

The door pushed open, and she glanced up. Her father stood there with a concerned scowl on his face. He slipped to the ground beside her and rested a hand on her knee.

“I’m a coward,” she said with dry sobs.

Tal grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. “You don’t think every single man up there doesn’t feel the same way?” he asked. “They’ve just learned to channel it.”

Emilia tried to control the pounding in her head and the trembling that spread through her entire body.

“You don’t have to fight,” Tal said. “No one expects it of you.”

Emilia let the tears slip from her eyes. “Yes I do,” she said. “You won’t always be here to protect me.”

Tal bowed his head.

“I need to learn how to protect myself,” she said. “How to face this fear.”

“Battle is an awful thing,” Tal said. “You saw the carnage this morning. It is one thing to watch it and quite another to cause it.”

“I know,” Emilia said.

“No, you don’t know,” Tal said. “When you see the light fade from the eyes of a man you’ve killed, that blank face filled with the horror of coming death will never leave you alone. It will haunt you, gnaw at you.”

Emilia studied her father. Why had he refused to be a soldier, and why did he become an apothecary? She always assumed it was because his family died, and he had to stay and care for her, which must have been part of it. But Tal had also sold his armor and weapons.

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