By Sarol
May 30, 2003
"Do you think today's the day?"
Cecily glanced away from her pale fingers combing through her soft blonde tresses and towards her younger sister's reflection in the mirror. "Do I think today is what day, Bridget?"
"You know very well what day I mean, Cecily Brinton," Bridget said, laughing at her sister. "The day Galen will ask your hand in marriage, and you'll live happily ever after, just like a fairytale."
Cecily rolled her bright blue, almost green sea-colored eyes toward the ceiling of the homey little cottage. "Unlikely, Bridget," she said. "Galen hasn't even asked Father's permission yet."
"Maybe not, but it's understood, don't you think?" Bridget asked, trying on one of Cecily's necklaces. "He's been courting you for nearly three years, almost exclusively. Not to mention how shamelessly you two flirted at Joan Trevet's engagement party."
Cecily turned pink and snatched her necklace away from Bridget.
"And then there's the matter of all these presents he's been giving you," Bridget teased, touching Cecily's trinket box full of small, sentimental ornaments. "Yes, he's undeniably going to propose, if not today then certainly tomorrow."
"I'm not sure," Cecily lied, putting on an air of modesty. "What with the war coming up and everything. Do you think the green or the blue?" she asked, holding up two soft, homespun cotton dresses.
"The green, it brings out your eyes more," said Bridget. "And as for the war, it'll only make it more romantic, to wait for him and wed upon his return."
"Bridget, you've spent too much time with the town storyteller, he's starting to rub off on you," said Cecily, slipping the dress over her head and tightly lacing her bodice. "I'm as much a dreamer as you are, but you actually believe in those fairytales."
"And in return I'm much happier," said Bridget, pirouetting around the room, her pink skirt fanning out like a bell.
"For the moment, until you're disappointed," Cecily shot back, and began to braid her waist-length hair. "Bridget, do you think he'll come back?"
"Of course," said Bridget. "He is fighting for the kingdom. And those loyal to the king are sure to beat the traitors. Besides, Brenovia is the strongest kingdom in the world; no one's going to kill our men."
"I know we'll win, but people will die on both sides," said Cecily. Suddenly she felt the urge to cry as she imagined one of the rebels killing Galen, slicing off his gorgeous head or shooting him with an arrow, and bragging about it later to his atrocious rebel friends. Cecily turned her back to Bridget, tears nearly springing to her eyes at the thought of never again being in his arms.
"Oh, don't cry, Cess," Bridget said. Cecily had never been able to hide anything from her sister. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have even brought Galen up."
"It's okay," Cecily said shakily, wiping her dry face to ensure no tears showed on it. "He doesn't leave for another week anyway." She turned back to the mirror and continued to braid her hair.
There was a knock on the door, and Cecily immediately dropped her handful of half-plaited locks, hairpins clattering to the floor. She ran to the entrance before her mother got there, and flung open the door. It was Galen.
"What's wrong?" he asked, glancing from her flushed face to disheveled hair.
"Nothing," Cecily said, leaning into his arms.
"Listen, Cess, we need to talk," he said, gently smoothing her hair.
Cecily pulled away from his arms and looked into his eyes. "Really?" she asked, unsuccessful in keeping the smile off her face. So Bridget was right! "And you've spoken to Father?"
Galen looked puzzled. "Why would I? This concerns you and I, not anyone else."
"But Galen!" Cecily laughed. "I really think it's only proper�"
"Come on," Galen said, and they walked back to the apple tree in the pasture out front, the very place they'd spoken for the first time. "Cecily, I love you," Galen began.
Cecily flushed. Even though they both knew they loved each other, the words had never been spoken. "And you know I love you back," Cecily whispered, feeling a wave of excitement rush threw her body.
Galen nodded. "And that's why I need to tell you this, despite how hard it is for me."
Cecily couldn't help from smiling. "What is it, love?" she asked, feigning ignorance.
Galen slipped a small ring onto Cecily's finger. It was small and shiny, made of bronze with a delicate pattern carved into it. "I'm being sent off tomorrow," he whispered.
"What?" Cecily gasped. It was hardly a proper proposal. And also�why would they need him the next day? The war hadn't actually started yet, had it?
"Which is why�we can't play these games any more. I can't marry you, Cess. I'm in the first wave of soldiers to be sent out. Most of us are going to be killed," It was obvious how hard it was for Galen to say this.
"But not you!" Cecily cried. "You promised you'd come back to me!"
"It's a promise I might not be able to keep," Galen said, "And I can't stand to break a promise to you. I couldn't stand to break your heart."
"What do you think you're doing now?" a tear ran down Cecily's cheek, and she turned her back to him so he wouldn't see it.
"Cess, look at me," Galen whined. "I can't marry you, I'd only widow you. And I don't want you to wait for me; it would only break your heart. Find someone else and be happy."
"Galen, say you'll marry me," Cecily whispered, brushing off the tear and turning around. "That's the only thing that will keep my heart from breaking. And if you marry me I know you won't die. You couldn't."
Galen's jaw trembled, so slightly that if Cecily hadn't been staring so intently at his face she wouldn't have even noticed it. "I can't marry you," he whispered in a choked voice. "And I can't love you. Because that would hurt you. And to hurt you would be to kill me."
"So this is it?" Cecily whispered. "No more kisses goodnight? No more flirting? No more you? No more�us?"
"No more," Galen whispered back.
Without a word, Cecily removed the bronze ring from her finger and placed it in Galen's hand, closing his fingers around it. "Wait here," she said, and ran back to her room to fetch her trinket box.
"Don't do this," Galen pleaded when she returned.
Silently, Cecily placed in his hand a tiny dried flower, the first one he'd given her. She gave him back the very necklace Bridget had tried on earlier. And finally, she placed in his hand a small piece of wood he'd carved into a half heart, with their initials in it.
Galen nodded, and pulled from inside his shirt the other half of the heart and pressed them together. "Forgive me, Cecily," he whispered. "Take it back." He tried to push the charms back into Cecily's hands, but she turned away. Wordlessly, he knelt underneath their tree, and buried them under one of the roots that stuck up.
Finally he stood up. "I'm leaving now, Cecily," he said gently. "Father needs me to work, and I have to say goodbye to my mother."
Cecily turned around, not allowing any tears to spill down her cheeks, even though they burned at the back of her throat and behind her eyes. "I hate you," she whispered hoarsely, knowing that if she spoke any louder her voice would tremble. "I hate you for thinking I'm so weak that I can't handle your absence. I hate you for not believing in us. And I hate you because you said you loved me and it was a lie."
Cecily ran toward her house.
"It wasn't a lie!" Galen shouted after her, but she didn't look back. "It was the truth, and I'll love you always!"
He wasn't sure she'd even heard him.
Once inside, Cecily hid her tears. She'd never been one to show her feelings, and especially not about Galen. Cecily knew their feelings for each other were obvious, but she didn't like the way her father tended to get angry at the mention of their future together, so she especially didn't want him to know about their fight, and about how he'd almost made her cry.
The house smelled of fresh bread and vegetable soup, but even the deliciously familiar aroma didn't cheer Cecily up.
"So?" Bridget asked cheerfully, popping into the kitchen, Cecily's mother behind her.
Cecily frowned, glaring at her sister. "What, Bridget?"
Cecily's mother sensed the tension. "Bridget, why don't you tell your father to hurry in from the field," she said gently, pulling several loaves from the oven.
Bridget rolled her eyes at her mother's back, but obeyed grudgingly.
"Galen's leaving tomorrow," Cecily said when Bridget had closed the door behind her.
"The poor boy," her mother said soothingly. "But it's all for the best, dear."
"How can you say that?" Cecily asked angrily. "What if he never comes back?"
"Then he'll have died for a good cause," Cecily's mother shrugged. "Anyway, darling, perhaps now we can get you a suitable husband, if we can still find a man to take you. You are almost sixteen; the other women are starting to gossip. You know I was thirteen when I was married to your father, and there were brides younger than me."
Cecily scowled, but was saved from having to respond when Baby Molle started crying in her basinet. Cecily pulled her out, cooing softly to console her.
"Galen was never a proper suitor," her mother continued. "He's barely got a penny to his name, and he was rather young. I believe your father had his eye on another man for you, dear."
Cecily knew this was supposed to spark questions, but she didn't play along. "Well then, I hope he's no one I know. I'd hate to disappoint him so when he finds out I'm already taken."
Her mother frowned, but didn't say anything when Cecily's father entered, followed by a smirking Bridget. Cecily gently placed her baby sister back in the cradle, and helped her mother carry over a pitcher of water and some food before taking her place at the table.
"Damn rebellion," her father growled after saying grace.
"The children!" Cecily's mother whispered sharply, as if they'd never heard him curse.
Cecily's father sighed angrily. "If it weren't for my leg, I'd go fight those rebels myself. As it is, I've no sons to fight for the family. Disgraceful it is."
Cecily bit her lip. It always made her uncomfortable when he got in one of his moods, especially over having daughters instead of sons.
"Galen is leaving to fight tomorrow," her mother said quietly, obviously uncomfortable with the previous topic as well.
Cecily's father snorted, but didn't say anything else for a while. Finally he spoke. "I've found you a husband," he said to Cecily.
She didn't look up from her plate, for she'd always been told not to speak at the table.
"Is he rich?" Bridget spoke up.
"Bridget!" Cecily's mother chided, but looked inquisitively at her husband, obviously curious about this as well.
"Rich enough," her father said. "You'll live better than you would with that boy."
Cecily dipped her bread crust in her soup, watching it turn soggy and crumble.
"Who is he?" Cecily's mother finally asked.
"Slyfield," her father said. "From town."
Cecily dropped her bread crust in her soup, the thin broth splashing onto the table. Sure Henry Slyfield had enough money for them to live comfortably, but he was nearly as old as her father, overweight, with crooked yellow teeth and a surly graying beard. He'd been married before, and had children older than Cecily. She'd never considered him to be a man she'd want to talk to, still, he was well respected, and everyone else probably considered him to be a fine catch.
"I won't do it," Cecily said quietly.
"Do what, dear?" her mother said loudly, with a false questioning tone. Her eyes were wide, warning Cecily to not start a fight.
"I won't marry Slyfield," Cecily said, deliberately ignoring her mother.
"You will," her father's face was red. "I had to beg him to marry you! Believe it or not, your wit and your free spirit aren't exactly the qualities people look for in a wife, especially since you're getting older. I had to pay him quite a bit too. If only you'd have been a boy, so you could have fought for me, and you wouldn't cause me such trouble."
Tears stung Cecily's eyes, but she'd long since resolved to never let her father see her cry. She'd always wanted his respect, more than anything. She would never marry Slyfield, but there had to be a way to earn her father's approval without marrying against her will. "Yes, father," she finally said, her throat aching, as she mopped up her splattered soup with her napkin.
The rest of the meal was silent and uncomfortable.
Afterwards, as Cecily washed the dishes and her father returned to the fields, her thoughts were focused on how to get out of marrying Slyfield, and still please her father. It seemed to be an impossible task.
"I can't believe that was the last thing I said to Galen," Cecily whispered to Bridget. It had been a week since she'd stormed away from him, and she hadn't seen him since. Worse still was that earlier, Father had come home with news of the first battle being a bloody one. Hundreds of men had been killed on both sides.
Of course her father had been angry that he'd had no sons to fight for him at that battle, and especially that the king's men hadn't crushed the rebellion.
Now the night was hot, the crickets were making a horrible racket, the bugs in the straw mattress were itching her, and Cecily couldn't sleep, especially since she still hadn't come up with a plan, and now her last words to Galen were coming back to haunt her.
"Huh, Cess?" Bridget yawned sleepily, rolling over and taking the sheet with her.
Cecily tugged the sheet back. "Scoot over!" she whispered, lack of sleep allowing her to become annoyed over the little things. "You're on my side of the bed again!"
"Stop it, Cecily!" Bridget whined, opening her eyes. "It's not fair I have to share a bed with you. Even Baby Molle has it better than me; she has a cradle to herself."
"Hush up or you'll wake her!" Cecily chided, knowing how difficult it was to put her baby sister back to sleep once awakened. "Do you think Galen is okay? What if he's hurt? What if he needs help? I should be at his side, nursing him back to health."
Cecily glanced over at a lightly snoring Bridget. "Better still, I should be at his side, fighting with him," she said to her sister's sleeping form. "If we Brenovans are going to beat those brainless rebels, we'll need as many people to fight as possible." An idea occurred to her, one so obvious she could have kicked herself for not realizing it earlier.
"Father has an old suit of armor, does he not? With that on, no one would recognize me as a girl."
If she was to disguise herself as her father's son, she could fight for the king. Once she returned, her father would surely respect her enough to let her choose her own husband. She would go to the battle and make sure Galen was safe, and then she would marry him. Maybe Bridget's fairy tales could come true after all.
Cecily sat up, the straws in her mattress creaking. Bridget stirred, but didn't wake up again. Slowly, Cecily swung her feet to the side of the bed and slipped out.
After pulling a soft cream-colored dress over her nightgown, she packed a few extra dresses, her hairbrush, and a few other things she knew she might need before proceeding to poke around for the chain mail.
Her father's armor was far too heavy for her to carry across the room, let alone across the country, so she took only enough to prevent herself from being killed with a single blow, and enough to cover her head and feminine features. Knowing it would creak when she walked, she carefully placed it in a large bag, which she slung over her shoulder, careful not to let the armor clink together.
Cecily's next stop was the kitchen. She knew that whatever she took would be sorely missed, but she also knew that if she didn't take something she'd starve. Feeling a pang of remorse, she placed a loaf of bread and a large lump of hard cheese in her bag. On an afterthought, she put in one of the pies her mother had baked the day before.
Leaving quietly so not to wake anyone, Cecily crept out the door to the stables. She stood there for a few moments, knowing that her father couldn't spare a single animal. She also knew that she'd need a horse, since she wouldn't be able to walk all the way across the country, especially carrying such heavy packs. Finally she decided to take Juniper, the small horse that had been hers for as long as she could remember. Juniper was more a pet than anything, but she'd be able to carry Cecily and a few supplies, even if she couldn't be used in battle.
Placing some oats for Juniper in a bag, Cecily put on her horse the oldest saddle she could find, to which she attached her packs of supplies.
Not wanting to use up Juniper's strength right away, Cecily led the horse out of the stable and into the pastures, stopping only when she passed her and Galen's tree.
Impulsively she let go of Juniper's reins and dropped to her knees, digging at the patch of soil under the upturned root. The bronze ring was as shiny in the moonlight as it had been in the daylight. She slipped it onto her finger. The necklace, a simple strip of leather wrapped around an ordinary polished stone, was also there, and she tied it around her neck. The dried flower, now barely recognizable, was muddy and torn and beyond repair, but she slipped it in with her dresses anyway. The little wooden heart was rotting a little, and smelled of damp soil, but Cecily wiped it off on her dress and tucked both halves into a fold of her dress, close to her heart.
"I'm coming, Galen," she whispered, and swung herself onto Juniper's back, riding away from her home and life as she knew it.
It was after Cecily had ridden a few hours that she realized she had no real idea as to where she needed to go. After a crippling blow had forced her father to retire from being a knight, he and her mother had settled down as farmers in a sleepy little village miles and miles away from the nearest city, Frivolsport. They weren't really peasants, as they had the king's respect and more than enough money to live comfortably for a number of years.
Really, they didn't fit in anywhere on the social hierarchy, and the Brinton name had long since been forgotten by most of the knights, and certainly all of the common people. Still, Cecily was hoping that perhaps one of the older knights, retired in Frivolsport, might remember her father, and if she dressed as the son her father had always hoped for, she might be directed to the nearest battle. She could only pray that she'd find Galen there.
So on Cecily rode, tired and hot under the smoldering late-summer sun. As she traveled away from the green, grassy lands she was accustomed to, she couldn't help but notice how dry and foreboding the new lands seemed. The dirt roads were parched and cracked, and the dust that rose from them caused Cecily fits of coughing. Worse still was the cloudless blue sky, which showed no signs of rain, the one thing this desiccated land needed.
After one of the longest days of her life, the sun eventually began to creep its way down from the middle of the sky, and while it was nice to relieve her neck of the blistering heat, it shone in her eyes, blinding her.
Finally the sky began to blush a brilliant shade of red around the horizon, and the rest of it darkened to a cool shade of purple, which eventually became navy and then black. Barely able to keep her eyes open, she slid off Juniper and patted her nose.
"Sorry, June," she whispered to her horse, her big dark eyes shining in the moonlight. "I'll bet those packs are heavy." Removing the bags and saddle, she found that Juniper's fur was matted and sweaty, and immediately wished that she'd thought to bring her horse's brush and a few other grooming supplies.
Still, there was nothing she could do, so she gave Juniper some oats, which were eaten hungrily. Looking around, Cecily couldn't find any shelter or source of water, and she realized that they were in a desert. She had no idea how big it was and could only hope that they'd find a way out before their need for water really set in.
Sitting down and folding her legs, the most comfortable way to sit despite how unladylike it was, Cecily pulled out her bread and tore a piece off it, which she ate ravenously. It was already stale and dry, but she didn't care; it was food and she hadn't eaten all day. When she was done her throat felt scratchy and dry.
"I'm sorry, Juniper," she whispered again, knowing the horse must be feeling worse than her. Knowing Juniper was loyal to her and would never run away, she didn't bother trying to tie her up and simply laid down to sleep by the road, not taking off her dress just in case a traveler was to pass by in the night.
She slept fitfully, and awoke to the sun beating down on her face. It was already high in the sky; it must have been nearly noon, and she'd wasted the entire morning. Juniper was awake and stamping about impatiently, wanting to stretch her legs, and perhaps find a stream.
Cecily was relieved to find that all of her bags were exactly like she'd left them; there hadn't been any midnight visits from bandits or wild animals. Loading up Juniper's saddle again, they rode together for another exhausting day, and slept another restless night. Cecily ate some more of the bread, and some of the cheese but couldn't bear to eat any of the pie. It smelled of home and her mother, and she wanted to save it for as long as she could, not knowing when she'd return.
Eventually the road dwindled down to a footpath, which in time diminished into nothing, the previous footsteps no doubt blown away by the wind.
There was still no sign of civilization, and Cecily's throat was dry with a thirst she'd never imagined, but there was no water to quench it. The situation was starting to look hopeless; even Juniper knew it. Every once in awhile, the dappled gray horse would tilt her pretty head around, and ask Cecily with her big black trusting eyes when they'd stop and when they'd get water. It nearly broke Cecily's heart when she fed Juniper the last of her oats.
Before long, neither Cecily nor Juniper had the strength to carry on. They were parched and worn out, and save for the pie there was no food left. She wasn't sure if Juniper would eat it or if it would even be good for a horse, but still she tore a piece off of it, only to find that it was infested with maggots.
Cecily lost her temper and all hope. Juniper's startled eyes watched as she threw the pie as hard as she could with a loud cry. It landed about ten feet away. Cecily hugged her knees and buried her face in her lap and wept until Juniper nuzzled the side of her face.
"Oh, June!" she cried, throwing her arms around her horse's neck and sobbing into her fur. "I'm so sorry! This is all my fault!" When she'd cried all she could, she ran to the pie and began to pick at it, eating what she could salvage and feeding bits of it to Juniper, who didn't seem to care about the maggots either.
When the pie was nothing but a sticky, sandy mess, Cecily got up and began to stroke her horse's cheek. "I'll understand if you run away," she whispered. "You'd go farther and faster and get to water sooner than you would with me."
Cecily knew Juniper didn't understand her words, but she seemed to comprehend what Cecily was saying, and nuzzled her hand, looking at her with that same unwavering faith.
"Come on," Cecily finally said, pulling herself to her feet and sighing with resolution. "We're going to get out of this desert!" She loaded the packs on Juniper, but this time instead of getting on the horse's back, she walked to, knowing Juniper must be even more exhausted than she was.
It was nighttime, but tired as they were, Cecily kept going. Seeing a shadow off in the distance, she began to run, hoping it was a forest, or grassland, or anyplace that might contain some source of life.
Juniper glanced impatiently at Cecily, and she hopped onto her horse's back, knowing that the horse could gallop faster than she could run.
The first thing Cecily noticed when she entered the forest was the difference in the air. She could actually detect the moisture from the vegetation in the air that entered her lungs as more grass and trees started to appear. The air was rich and sweet and cool and thick, a delicious contrast from the dusty dry air she'd been breathing. Juniper slowed, no doubt enjoying the cool relief the thickening trees were providing.
Cecily almost wept with relief when she heard the bubbling of a stream not far off. Not able to contain her thirst anymore, she jumped off Juniper's back and ran. When she reached the creek she fell to her knees, dipping her hands in it and pouring the chilly water all over her sunburned neck and face. She submersed her entire head in the stream and guzzled the water sweeter than wine for second after second until she had to come up for air, and she laid on her back in the grass, feeling dizzy with satisfaction.
Glancing over, she saw that Juniper had followed her and was drinking the water as thirstily as she had. Warily, Cecily dragged herself to her feet and pulled the packs and saddle off her horse before lying back down and falling into the most luxurious dreamless sleep she'd ever had.
When she woke up, it must have been the middle of the day, for she felt as though she'd slept for hours, and the sun shone through the gaps in the treetops. If she concentrated, she thought she could even detect a bird chirping distantly, but she wasn't sure. It didn't really matter anyway.
Pulling off her dirty, torn dress and sweaty nightgown and other undergarments, Cecily slipped into the brook, gasping when the water hit her bare, sunburned skin. She bathed in the delicious water, washing away the dust and sweat and memories of the terrible desert. When she had finished soaking, she washed off her clothes, though she was unable to remove the dirt stains from all those nights of sleeping by the road.
Reluctantly Cecily pulled herself out of the water and put on fresh clothes, this time a mossy green dress. After untangling her golden tresses, which had been bleached a shade or two lighter from the sun, she braided them into a thick knot at the base of her neck.
"Why, hello, there!"
Cecily gasped and whipped her head around, seeing no one.
"I said hello! Up here!"
Cecily looked up to see a boy sitting in the tree above her. "You weren't sitting up there this whole time!" she shrieked.
"A' course not," the boy said, jumping down and landing on his feet with cat-like reflexes. "Do I look like the sort of guy who'd watch a pretty girl wash off?"
Cecily squinted, surveying the boy. He appeared to be around her age, perhaps a year or two older, and was tan, obviously from spending hours out in the sun, with just a few freckles on his nose. He was thin and somewhat lanky, with masses of slightly curly dark brown hair that came down to his ears and ruffled in the wind. A few pieces hung in his brown eyes, and he brushed them off impatiently.
"I said, what kind of guy do you think I am?" He asked, shifting his weight. "You're the quiet type, aren't you?"
"I don't know what sort of boy you are; I've just met you, and I'm not one to judge right off," Cecily said, crossing her arms. "As for my first impression, how would you know I was bathing if you hadn't been watching?"
The boy laughed. "Ah, a smart one, you are. I admire your wit, although there is one thing you've overlooked."
"What's that?" Cecily asked shortly, loading the saddle and bags on Juniper.
"Why, your yellow hair is dripping with so much water it's left a wet spot down your back, even in that knot," the boy laughed again. "It, along with those wet clothes you have lying out, suggests you've been bathing, but believe what you will."
Cecily ignored him and continued to pack the bundles on her horse.
"Aw, milady, you're not angry with me are you?" the boy asked, trying to get Cecily to look at him. "Do I need to kiss your hand, is that it?"
Cecily continued to work.
"Or perhaps I just need to entertain you, like the jesters you nobles are used to."
The boy engaged in such an idiotic dance that it was all Cecily could do to keep from laughing.
"Right then," the boy, said, suddenly serious. "Since there's no pleasing you, off must go my head. Will you do the honors, milady?" He stretched out his neck, glancing up to see her still ignoring him.
"Fine, I'll do it meself," he said. "Pity I can't have a last kiss from a pretty lass�" He glanced up at Cecily, and seeing her look away, smiled and started hacking away at his neck with a stick, shouting after each blow.
"Stop, stop!" Cecily cried, running over and pulling the stick from his hand. "Why are you doing this?"
The boy laughed. "Well, you're talking to me now, aren't you?"
Cecily laughed, unable to hold it in anymore. She hadn't laughed in several weeks, as Galen's leaving had been hard on her, and it seemed odd, but wonderful.
"There, now that wasn't so hard," the boy said. "Now, about that kiss you owe me�"
The smile vanished from Cecily's face. "I shan't kiss you," she said.
"Aw, you wouldn't have me lop off me head again, would you?" the boy said, still smiling. "Because I still have that stick�"
"Look," Cecily said, turning on him. "I won't kiss you, not when Galen could be lying dead or hurt."
"Galen," the boy repeated, "A special friend, eh? A soldier? Well, aren't you in luck, I happen to be a soldier meself."
"You?" Cecily laughed, looking at his thin rags and lack of weaponry.
"Me, milady," the boy said, either not knowing or not caring that Cecily had been mocking him. "On me way to the battlefield now."
"Why are you fighting?" Cecily asked. "No offense, but there are trained knights."
The boy laughed. "For the adventure, what else? You think I'd sit back and let the other boys have all the fun? Nah, you watch, ten years from now I'll have the greatest stories to tell, of adventures, and wars, and of rescuing damsels in distress."
"Well, are we near a battlefield?" Cecily asked, finishing with Juniper's packs and starting to walk.
"A few weeks away, actually," said the boy, walking with her. "I'd be happy to lead you there, for a small fee."
"What's that?" Cecily asked.
"What else?" asked the boy. "A kiss, right on me lips. And I hope you don't mind if I brag about it later."
"I guess I'll have to go without you then," said Cecily, walking faster to get ahead of him.
The boy quickened his pace to keep up. "Come now!" he said. "One kiss to lead you closer to your Galen? You said yourself, he might be hurt!"
Cecily stopped so shortly that the boy ran into her. "One kiss," she said. "Take me to the battlefield, and before we part ways I promise I'll give you one kiss."
"It's a deal!" the boy said. "Now how do we make this official?" He thought a moment, eying Cecily's hand. "Give me that ring."
Cecily stretched her fingers, and her bronze ring sparkled. "Not my ring," she said.
"I'll give it back!" said the boy. "I just need it to make sure I get the kiss! You give me the ring, I take you to the battlefield, you give me the kiss, and I give you the ring back! It works out fair and square."
"You promise you'll give it back?" asked Cecily, twisting it around her finger hesitantly.
"You have me word as a soldier," the boy said.
Cecily laughed and handed him her ring, which he tucked into his pocket.
"Too small for me finger," he explained. "Now, will you tell me your name, or do I have to keep calling you milady?"
"It's Cecily Brinton," she said, and they started to walk away.
"Cecily, huh?" the boy asked. "That's a rich name if I ever heard one. I'm Tam, just Tam, so don't be calling me Tamily or anything."
"Just Tam?" Cecily asked.
"Just Tam," he repeated. "Well�since we're friends now, I guess I can tell you that I'm told me mother called me Thomas, though she died before I was old enough to remember her anyway."
Cecily furrowed her eyebrows together. "I'm sorry�" she murmured, facing a lack of words.
"Eh, don't be," said Tam. "Those things are bound to happen, just glad it happened before I had the chance to know her and miss her. It's me father I'm angry at, I hear he'd drink his own body weight in beer and then some. He spent up me mum's money and then he died, the bastard, leaving me, barely able to walk, to fend for meself."
Cecily's jaw dropped open. It was hardly proper to talk of such things; especially to someone you'd known for less than an hour.
Tam laughed, seeing her expression. "Well, if this much offends you, I suppose I shouldn't go into what happened after he died."
Cecily twisted a few wisps of golden hair that were already spilling from her bun. "No, go on."
Tam smiled. "Really? Well then, I was just a wee tot, and I was told I had the longest eyelashes in all a' Frivolsport. So the ladies, despite their own hardships, couldn't resist slipping me a scrap now and again. I belonged to the village, just as much as any drunkard or beggar, though they tell me my face gave me something of an advantage."
Cecily smiled at his cockiness. He was cute; she'd give him that.
Tam chattered on about his life, and whenever Cecily had the chance she got in a few words too. Whenever she mentioned the king, Tam would get a little quiet, but Cecily let this go, figuring it was because he'd never had anything to do with anyone of higher status than the peasants, especially not the king.
They stopped to eat once, when the sun had dropped lower in the sky.
"I'm afraid I'm out of food," Cecily said, noticing that Tam hadn't brought anything with him.
Tam laughed. "I've been out of food for seventeen years," he said. "You learn to get by."
"How?" Cecily asked, wishing she could silence the rumbling in the pit of her stomach that showed how pampered her life had been in comparison with his.
"Listen," said Tam, glancing to the left. He was still for a few moments, and Cecily, who could only hear the birds, was unsure of what he meant.
"We're not going to eat the birds, are we?" she whispered finally, reluctant to rupture the silence.
"No!" Tam laughed loudly, breaking up whatever silence there had been left over. "C'mon."
Cecily led Juniper after him into a thicker part of the woods, and finally she heard the bubbling of the stream again.
"Hope you like fishes!" Tam said, fastening a string and hook to a stick and dipping it in the water.
"What are you doing?" Cecily asked.
"Haven't you ever fished before?" Tam asked disbelievingly. "Watch this." Within moments, he pulled a large silver fish out of the water on his stick. It flopped around painfully in the dirt, its gills fluttering wildly.
"Oh, make it stop!" Cecily cried. "Put him back!"
Tam laughed and hit the fish with a stick. It immediately stopped flopping, and its wide eyes were motionless. "If I put him back we'd starve. There, good and dead." He pulled a piece off of it, pausing only a moment to cast aside some rainbow scales, and popped it in his mouth, chewing happily. "It's good, try a piece!"
"That's disgusting!" Cecily cried. "It hasn't even been cooked!"
"Must we stop and cook everything?" Tam whined. "It'll only waste time! Think of your Galen�"
Cecily closed her eyes, wishing she hadn't told Tam about Galen in the first place. She took a bit of the fish, and chewed on it carefully. It was cold and rubbery and not at all good like Tam said it was, but it was food nonetheless, so she ate enough to fill her.
After that they traveled longer, until it was nearly dark, and then they stopped to sleep.
Cecily lay down by herself, using a pack of clothes for her pillow and wrapping the blanket from Juniper's saddle around her, as it was chilly in the woods. After a moment, Tam came and lay down next to her.
"Now, Cecily," he said. "About that kiss�"
"Not tonight," she smiled and rolled over, turning her back to him.
"So you've never really worked?" asked Cecily as they walked one sunny afternoon. It had been nearly a week since she and Tam met, and she'd grown to like him.
"Not a day," said Tam proudly, smiling happily. "Never needed to. Aye, I was actually a pretty penny richer than most of the peasants, to tell the truth. And no one ever heard of me, so I didn't have to pay up me taxes to that scoundrel king, and no one ever made me fight for them."
"Scoundrel king?" Cecily asked, blushing angrily.
"Yes, the scoundrel!" Tam reiterated. "Though I doubt a rich girl like yourself would know much of any of his evil deeds."
Cecily's temper began to flare up. It was talk like this that had caused the rebellion, the reason that Galen could be dying that very moment. Not to mention her father's wounded leg. "It's apparent you're uneducated or you wouldn't be saying such things," said Cecily, the politest way she could think of to call Tam stupid. "For your information, the king-,"
"Cecily, have you ever been to a real town?" Tam cut her off.
Despite the fact that this was an argument, Cecily couldn't help noting how he said her name. She loved the carefree tone he gave to it; while everyone else had carefully pronounced each syllable, like Cess-sil-ly, Tam said it more like Cess-ly. Still, she set this aside for the moment. "I've lived in the country all my life."
"Then you've never seen how real people live," said Tam. "You said you weren't rich, but you certainly had money, right?"
Cecily shrugged. "I guess so."
"Okay," said Tam. "And your Galen. If your father allowed him to court you, I'm assuming he had money as well?"
Cecily hesitated, thinking of how her father had never approved of his courting her, and thinking of that awful Slyfield he'd arranged for her to marry. "No, in fact," she said. "Galen was really quite poor. It was all his family could do to make it through the winters. He had two little sisters who died because his family couldn't afford to call in the medicine man."
"And still he gave you this ring?" Tam pulled it out of his pocket.
Cecily bit her lip. How Galen had been able to afford the ring had never occurred to her.
"Do you realize he probably had to save his entire life to buy you this one ring?" Tam asked, rotating it so it caught the light and glimmered. "He probably had to hide the money during the winters and when his sisters were sick."
Cecily started to feel sick with regret about how she'd acted when Galen gave her the ring, and she couldn't think of anything to say to Tam.
"And do you know why things were so bad for Galen?" Tam asked. "Do you know why he and his family slaved away every day of their entire lives on their small plot of land, and still they could hardly afford to eat?"
Tears of shame for never having realized how bad things were for Galen welled up in Cecily's eyes, and the burning in the back of her throat warned her that if she tried to speak they would spill out.
"Because of the king," Tam went on. "Because of his damn taxes. I went up to the palace once meself, and I saw what they paid for. They paid for his castle, about a hundred stories off the ground so he can look down on us common people. They paid for his fancy robes, for his jewels, for his gold, and they paid for wars that us commoners died in so he could conquer more people and get more money."
"That's not true!" Cecily burst in angrily. "We paid taxes too, and father said the king would never overcharge anyone, never cause anyone to starve!"
"And your father was one of the king's men, was he not?" Tam asked. "You said yourself he was a knight."
"And it's in his name I'll be fighting," said Cecily. "So Tam, I am begging you because I like you. Please do not fight against my king. When this is over, he might have to kill the rebels, and I couldn't bare-,"
"He's been killing rebels all along!" said Tam. "You've never been to a city, or you'd know! There are daily executions, and any street you walk down is lined with the heads of rebels propped up on sticks! The king is fighting a losing battle, for he may have his men and knights who are fighting for the money and power, but us commoners, who outnumber his men by thousands, are fighting for our lives."
Cecily stopped walking.
"Are you coming?" Tam asked, turning around.
Cecily shook her head and dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands. "I'd like my ring back," she said loudly.
"No," said Tam, "A deal's a deal."
"Then keep it," she said, looking up at him. "But I shall stay here 'til my Galen comes back for me."
"Are you stark round the bend?" Tam asked. "These woods are full a' robbers and the like! If I'm gone, who'll protect you? The horse?"
"Go!" cried Cecily. "Go fight my king; kill his men! I can't look at you, for if what you say is true, you know that once it's over the rebels will then come for anyone who was ever loyal to the king, which is me and my entire family. You barbarians will kill us all together, me, and Mother, and Father, and Bridget, and even Baby Molle!"
"Cecily�" Tam started.
"No!" Cecily shrieked. "Leave, but please give the ring to Galen. You'll know who he is. He'll be the only one fighting with honor, the only one whose loyalty has not been swayed. Put the ring in his hand and say, 'Cecily loves you,' and that'll give him the strength to kill a hundred of you rebels."
"Look," said Tam, dropping to his knees and looking in Cecily's eyes. "I asked you once what sort of guy you thought me to be, and you said you weren't sure. So I'll just tell you. I'm the sort who fights for what I believe in. I told you I was only in the war for the adventure, but wouldn't the adventure be the same on either side? I picked the rebel side for a reason. Just trust me."
Cecily frowned up at him without saying anything. The way he was looking at her, the way he wanted her to like him and come with him, made a little shiver run down her spine and made her suddenly self-conscious about how she must look, huddling in the dirt.
"I'm not going to leave you here," Tam went on. "I'll protect you, and I'll get you to your Galen, and after that we can part ways and you'll never have to look into this handsome face again."
Cecily smiled. "Well," she said, "if it'll save you from chopping off your head again�"
Tam laughed. "Good! Because lopping it off is rather difficult with only that stick."
The nearer they got to the battle, the denser the woods got, and the darker until distinguishing night from day because somewhat of a challenge.
"When will we get there?" Cecily whined one morning, almost eager to get to the battle. She was tired of traveling, and as she was too embarrassed to bathe with Tam around, she hadn't washed since the day she'd met him. Her golden hair was a dull, lifeless brown from sleeping in the dirt, and it hung limply around her shoulders and down her back, having long since fallen out of the knot. She sighed loudly and tugged on Juniper's reins a little, as the horse was almost as unmotivated as she was.
"Oh, a day or so," Tam said, good-natured as always. "Assuming the forest is on our side."
Cecily laughed at this, not quite understanding what he meant.
"Oh, it's not funny!" Tam said. He was rarely serious, but Cecily could tell by his firmly rooted jaw that he was not joking. "These woods are haunted, you know. Paths have been known to change themselves, or so I'm told. I heard of daylong journeys taking months, of people giving up and turning around, following their very footsteps and coming out on the wrong side."
"You don't believe that, do you?" Cecily asked. She'd never believed in stories as foolish as that, but if Tam did, maybe there was a reason to. Still, she continued, as bravely as she could. "I stopped believing in ghost stories when-,"
"Shh!" Tam cut her off and stopped shortly.
Cecily laughed. "Nice try, Tam, but you're not going to scare me. This is too obvious."
"Shut up!" Tam whispered, straining to hear something off in the distance. "Do you hear that?"
"Hm," Cecily snorted, playing along with his game. "On second thought, maybe I do hear something�"
Tam glanced at her and rolled his eyes slightly, giving Cecily the creeps because now she wasn't sure he was joking. She nervously stroked Juniper's cheek, finding the warm gray fur oddly comforting, and unwound her hands from her horse's reins, ready to fight if anything were to happen.
Tam started to say something, but a twig snapped behind them. He whipped his head around in time to see Cecily snatched away.
Cecily kicked and screamed at her captor, but with no affect. "Let go!" she cried, digging her bony elbow into the man who had a hold of her. He didn't, in fact his grip tightened harder, nearly cutting off her air supply.
As if watching from far away, Cecily, feeling dizzy, saw Tam run over and try to fight the man, who was much taller than him. In a dreamlike state, Cecily felt herself be pulled away; saw Tam fall back as a punch hit his face. As she was hoisted onto the man's shoulder, Cecily's only thought, oddly enough, was that she had been right; the forest wasn't haunted by ghosts, but by robbers.
She was vaguely aware that Tam was chasing after the man and her, but she was upside down, and with the blood rushing to her head and the jarring jolts that came with each step, staying conscious was too big an effort to be concerned with much else.
Suddenly a thought occurred to her, and she whispered it. "Why are you taking me?" The man didn't respond, so she repeated her question twice, each time a little louder.
"If I told you it was for your money would you shut up?" he asked finally, glancing over his shoulder.
"No," Cecily said, finding consciousness a little easier to hold onto now that she was engaged in a conversation. "I haven't any money, only the clothes on my back and my little pony Juniper."
At the mention of Juniper's name, Cecily suddenly remembered her horse, left all alone in the forest, and began to worry. She pushed the thought out of her mind, knowing that somehow she'd end up safe, despite the fact that Tam was no longer in her view.
The man didn't respond, so Cecily said impatiently, "So why are you taking me?"
"For the war," the man puffed, beginning to show signs of weariness. "For the king."
"Well put me down then!" Cecily said. "I'm not a rebel!"
"I know�Brinton," the man panted. "We need�your help�"
"For what?" Cecily started to ask, but was knocked off the man's shoulder and onto her back when someone popped out of nowhere and attacked the man who was holding her. Cecily coughed, the wind knocked out of her, and slowly sat up. Watching in confusion, she saw the man who had been carrying her beaten over the head with a tree branch, perhaps six inches in diameter. A loud crack, either the man's skull or the wood, accompanied the blow, and he fell like a tree being chopped down, his open eyes not seeing.
"Idiot!" Cecily cried, jumping to her feet and yelling at the man, or boy, really, who'd administered the blow. "He was about to tell me something, and it was important!"
"Sorry, milady, only doing me job," he said, not showing any signs of regret.
"Your job?" Cecily yelled, not hiding her anger. "What kind of job is that, killing the king's man? Why, you're no better than one of those rebels."
The boy smiled. "True, for I am a rebel."
"Rebel!" Cecily screamed, running at him without thinking of what exactly she was planning on doing. "Rebel rebel rebel rebel�"
She yelled the word over and over again as she tried to hit the boy, strangle him, whatever might inflict the most pain, to pay him back for the pain he had caused her by starting the rebellion that made Galen leave.
The boy slapped her sharply on the cheek. "Stupid girl!" he hissed. "Do you not know these are the kings woods? If someone hears you�"
He stopped speaking when Tam dropped out of a tree behind him. He raised his branch again and started to run at Tam.
"Whoa, there!" Tam laughed, holding up his arms. Despite the deep dimples on his cheeks, Cecily winced, noting the dark bruise on the side of his face.
The boy stopped, puzzled, and then, recognizing Tam, laughed too.
"Giles!" Tam laughed, clapping the boy on the back. "What are you doing here, you old bastard?"
"I'm in a war!" Giles laughed. "Fighting the damn king and his spineless men."
Cecily reddened slightly at this but said nothing.
"Me too!" Tam said excitedly. "God, it's good to see you, man!"
"And you! But�Who's this?" Giles asked, gesturing towards Cecily and shaking his dirty blonde hair off his forehead, his brown eyes twinkling. "Don't tell me you've got a sweetheart, Tam, you old dog?"
Tam laughed at this but didn't deny anything.
"No!" Cecily said firmly so he wouldn't press the issue. "I am Cecily Brinton. "Who are you?"
"Why, I'm Giles Nash, ain't you heard of me?" The boy laughed, and Tam joined in.
"Heard of you?" asked Cecily. "How would I have heard of you?"
"Why, from Tam, a' course!" Giles laughed. "You mean to tell me this whole time Tam here ain't even brought me up? Good Lord, Tam, after all I've done for you�"
Tam laughed and punched Giles on the shoulder. They started to walk off, seemingly forgetting all about Cecily.
Pushing aside an unjustified pang of jealousy, Cecily ran a few steps to catch up. "Tam!" she broke into their conversation.
"What is it?" Tam said, breaking off in mid-sentence and turning to her.
"My horse!" she exclaimed. "And my packs? Where are going?"
"To the battle!" said Giles. "We're less than an hour away from when I was sent after that blasted soldier! Tam, forget about the stupid girl; let her get our own packs! We got a war to fight!"
"Tam, please," Cecily begged, stopping.
"You heard Giles, we got a war!" Tam whined. "Can't the horse wait? It's not as if you can use her in the battle anyway."
"Tam, I can't leave her! Come with me!" said Cecily. "Please?"
"C'mon, you stupid softy," Giles taunted. "What's more important? Some girl or the war? Her your old pal Giles?"
"Or your word?" Cecily broke in, narrowing her eyes at Giles. "As I recall, you gave me your word as a soldier?"
Tam didn't say anything for a moment, then finally looked at Cecily. "I promised I'd get you to the battle. If you come with me now, that's where we'll go. Otherwise, you missed your chance."
Cecily glared at Tam, and the look this produced on his face nearly broke her heart. Still, she silently whipped her head around and stormed off, like she'd done to Galen. The only difference was that Tam didn't call after her like Galen had; in fact, she thought she even heard a laugh carried on the wind, though she wasn't sure.
Stumbling through the forest, Cecily tried to remember where exactly she'd been captured. It was no use, the forest was immense and there was no distinguishing one thick-trunked tree from another. Hot tears welling up with the realization that she was lost, and with anger at Tam, she leaned against a tree, disgusted with herself for letting Tam get to her. She'd hardly known him, and still he could get her this upset, simply by choosing his best friend over her. She was just as mad at Tam though, for leaving her here, knowing how lost she'd be.
When her fit of tears had been reduced to a case of persistent, annoying hiccups, Cecily pushed away from the tree and scrubbed at her eyes and salty wet cheeks. She whistled loudly, the crisp, shrill noise echoing through the trees. Cecily knew that if Juniper was within earshot, she would come. Cecily ran between the enormous trees, whistling until she had to gasp for air.
She paused to catch her breath, and nearly swooned with relief when she heard a horse galloping toward her. "June!" she cried, jumping out from behind the tree, only to be snatched up onto a humongous black horse.
Too afraid to struggle or try to get away at the pace the horse was going, Cecily clutched at the rider's heavy armor. After only a few moments, they arrived at what appeared to be a camp.
Shabby tents were pitched in whatever gaps the soldiers could find between the trees, and a few pitiful fires sent up clouds of smoke as the green wood snapped and burned. As she was paraded through the camp, Cecily was surprised to find other women poking their heads out from behind a few of the flaps. In fact, save from the man on the horse with her, and the injured soldiers being tended to, there weren't more than a few men in the camp. All the rest were off fighting, Cecily supposed.
After awhile, the man slowed and hopped off the horse's back, holding onto Cecily's waist to ensure she wouldn't get away. "What be's your name, milady?" he asked, and Cecily realized that her plan to pretend she was a boy and her father's son wouldn't work, and she'd just have to tell him she was here to offer her services as a maid or nurse.
"Brinton," she said. "Cecily."
"A Brinton, eh?" the man asked, raising his eyebrows. "You're of noble blood then?"
Cecily shrugged, demonstrating that she had no such knowledge, and also a little surprised that he knew who she was.
"Aye," the man laughed. "The Brintons were once the noblest family, save for the king himself! Sorry, lassie, but I fear we'll have to hold you here now."
Cecily felt a wave of fear, realizing that she was in the enemy camp. She'd stupidly given her identity away without knowing whom she was giving it to, and now she'd suffer the consequences. "What will become of me?" she asked quietly, almost to herself.
"S'not up to me, or I'd let you go," the man said, and the regret in his voice said it could be nothing good. "Right shameful we have to bring a lass into this, when it should be about men who know what's happening in the world."
Cecily knew she wouldn't be helping her case any, but she couldn't let that last comment go unanswered. "I know very well what's going on in the world, and if need be I'll give my very life for the king."
The man worriedly rubbed the brim of his nose. "Do you know what you're saying?"
Cecily studied him carefully. He was the older-brother type, perhaps in his mid-twenties, but the roughness of his life was apparent in his face. His skin was leathery and browned from hours in the fields, and his forehead was already showing signs of wrinkles. Still, he had sharp blue eyes and a smile that appeared to require constant effort to keep off his face.
Cecily chose her words carefully. She already liked this man, despite the fact that he was her enemy, and neither wanted to offend him or make her situation worse. "I fear what will happen to my family more than I fear death," she said slowly. "I came to preserve my father's honor, and to be near my love who fights on the side opposite you."
"In that case, I'll protect you," the man said painfully, as if torn between his morals and his fellow rebels. "At least until they decide what to do with you."
"What's your name?" asked Cecily, trusting him almost immediately even though he was an enemy.
"Cormac," he said, leading her by the arm to a particularly shabby tent. "I'm sorry about this, milady," he said, "but this'll be your home for the next few weeks."
Cecily pulled aside the flap and crawled in, ducking so not to hit her head on the severely low ceiling flap, which sagged to about three feet above the ground in the center.
"It helps to sit down," Cormac said, entering the tent himself and taking a seat near the door flap.
Cecily sat too, the low ceiling and the smell of wet earth and blood making her dizzy.
"This was a first aid tent at the start of the war," Cormac explained, reading her thoughts. "At first, every time someone was wounded or sick, they'd lie here and be tended to."
"Why don't they anymore?" Cecily asked.
"There are fewer soldiers," Cormac said, lowering his voice. "This war has gone on for a several weeks, as you already know, and we were promised a battle that would last only a few hours. People die every day, leaving us with extra tent space."
Cecily shivered, imagining Tam or Galen lying in a tent like the one she was in now, and wondering if either one was still alive. Sure she'd only been away from Tam for a few hours, but he could have easily been killed at a battle, and she'd been away from Galen for weeks.
"I just can't wait for this to be over," Cormac changed the subject. "I can't wait to get back to my wife, and my daughter. My daughter's name is Isabel, she's only two but she's got big blue eyes, and hair as red as her mother's. I don't even care about winning the war, or getting rid of the king anymore. I just want to get back to the farm and my family."
Cecily frowned. Aside from Tam, it had never occurred to her that the rebels she'd hated so much were normal people, just like her.
Cormac pulled himself to the door flap. "Well, milady, I'd best be getting back to the battle. The other guys shouldn't bother you here, but if they do, don't tell them who you are or they'll be trouble."
"You mean they don't know who I am?" Cecily asked.
Cormac hesitated. "We've been told horrible things of nobles, or of anyone loyal to the king. I thought you'd be ruthless, evil; you'd destroy the camp and run back to the king with secrets. I never suspected you'd be so harmless. Don't worry, I'll tell the leader and he'll likely let you go."
"Thank you," said Cecily, and as soon as Cormac left she fell asleep, excited because she'd be able to see Galen before long, just as soon as Cormac talked to his leader.
Days passed, horribly long days that dragged themselves out miserably. Every day a scrap of bread or a cup of soup, really just lukewarm water with a few measly vegetables floating in it, was shoved underneath the door flap, which Cecily would wolf down ravenously. When she tried to exit through the same flap, Cecily found it had been closed off. Large rocks had been rolled all around the tent, fastening down the fabric's loose ends. While this was somewhat of an advantage when it rained, it also made the tent horribly stuffy and put an end to whatever hopes of escape Cecily might have entertained. Beyond the rocks, Cecily gathered from fragments of conversations she overheard, an armed soldier always stood guard.
The days turned into weeks, and Cecily feared for her sanity. Where was Cormac? Why hadn't he talked to his leader? And why was she being held up anyway?
Eventually the guards started to question her, or more accurately, threaten her. They demanded information on the king, on her family, on any loyalists she knew of. They insisted from her information on knightly strategies, hiding locations, anything. Cecily refused to speak, feigning ignorance and sleep.
Once they brought Juniper outside the tent, and tied her up and whipped her so she neighed, a terrible painful sound. "Is this your horse?" the guard barked.
Cecily didn't have to see her to recognize Juniper's voice. For years Juniper had been her best friend, they'd shared secrets in the barn and summer afternoons in the field. Cecily said nothing.
"Answer me, girl!" the guard barked again.
Cecily was silent.
They continued to whip her horse, until finally the neighs stopped and the whipping sounds continued.
"Next time it won't just be your horse girl!" the guard growled. "I heard you had a loyalist boyfriend? Perhaps if we whip him you'll talk."
Cecily only cried silently at this. For a while they left her alone, but the silence was worse. She was so stupid. Why had she come in the first place? Even marrying Slyfield would have been better than what she was facing. And it wasn't as if a simple girl could make a difference in the war. All she'd done was gotten Juniper killed. Next they'd kill Galen, then her family, then finally they'd kill her. If they were capable of such mercy. The silence continued.
One night a rustling at the door flap awakened her.
"Cecily?"
At the sound of her name, Cecily threw herself up against the rough fabric of the tent. "Who's there?" she whispered hoarsely, praying it would be Galen or Tam.
"It's Cormac�remember?" came the voice.
"Cormac!" Cecily spat out, her voice rough from lack of use. "Where have you been?"
"Sorry, Cecily�" he said. "Has it been horrible?"
"Horrible?" Cecily said. "No, horrible would be getting run over by a herd of wild horses. It gets done with and you die right away. I've been locked up for days, not ever seeing the sunlight, not being able to stand, in a stuffy little room with only enough food to keep me alive so I can keep suffering!"
There was a pause when Cormac didn't say anything, and then Cecily laughed.
"Have you gone mad?" Cormac asked.
"Probably," Cecily laughed. She just needed to laugh at something, and she was the easiest target at the moment. "Cormac, when am I going to get out of here?"
Cormac hesitated.
"Just tell me," Cecily said, her throat aching with tears that were welling up for no real reason, probably just with anticipation. "Please, I can handle anything."
Cormac spoke, still hesitating. "I�I spoke to the leader�"
"And?" asked Cecily. "Good Lord, Cormac, just tell me!"
"Okay," said Cormac, lowering his voice, "The leader said you weren't to be released. You�are to be executed. To set an example."
The silence echoed as everything set in.
"I'm so sorry, Cecily," Cormac said after a moment. "Please don't blame me!"
No one spoke.
"I told him it was shameful, I did," Cormac whispered, "To kill a young girl like this. You're a hero, you know, Cecily. Whatever town you go into, little children speak of you, little girls want to be you."
"Why?" Cecily finally spoke, her voice shaking.
"Why?" Cormac burst out, not believing she'd asked such a question. "You traveled across an entire country, through a desert most grown men with maps can't get through, and you traveled through a forest just as vast. And now you've lived weeks in isolation, withstanding their questions. And you did it all for the man you loved. And�I know this doesn't mean much to you, but I can only pray that my Isabel will have half the character you have shown."
"How are they going to do it, Cormac?" Cecily was crying now. It was the first time in as long as she could remember that she'd let anyone else hear or see her tears. "Will it be quick?"
"Yes�it'll be quick," Cecily could tell from the choke in his voice that it wasn't true, that of course they'd torture her first. Otherwise what kind of example would it be?
"They'll come for you in the morning," Cormac continued. He was silent for a moment, obviously trying to decide something, before quickly saying, "Good-bye, Cecily."
"Wait!" Cecily cried. "Can't you at least stay here?"
"I'm sorry," Cormac whispered, "but if they thought I was conspiring with you, they'd kill me too! I have to get home to my wife and little Isabel."
"Please! Wait�" Cecily bawled, but it was no use.
The silence that followed that night was the coldest it had been in weeks.
The next morning took its time arriving. Cecily lay there, realizing for the first time that she had no control over what was about to happen to her. Angry tears streamed down her face, and pent-up energy raged inside of her. She couldn't even stand up, let alone move around to blow off steam.
With a loud sob, she pulled herself to her feet, struggling against the fabric of the tent. Cecily threw her entire body weight at the side of the tent, hoping to free it from the rocks. The sound of cracking sticks brought her a surge of hope as she tore at the tent that had been her prison for weeks.
Almost immediately she felt herself be seized by one of the guards, his strong arms holding her around the middle. The rough fabric closed around her face, and Cecily panicked, hardly able to breathe.
"Let�go!" she grunted, managing to elbow the guard until his grip loosened. She fell to the ground, tripping over the rocks that still held her fastened to the ground. "Let me go!" she screamed, her own voice hurting her ears as it echoed shrilly.
A blow landed on her head, obviously intended to knock her out and silence her, but it didn't. She only screamed louder against the throbbing pain, until the hot, sticky fabric was removed from her head.
For a moment Cecily just breathed in the fresh, cool air, hardly believing it was there. The early autumn night was beautiful and dark, and the slightest breeze ruffled the crimson leaves on the trees that stood a million miles high and the ones that blew about underfoot. Feeling refreshed despite her headache and throat sore from screaming, Cecily took a few awkward steps, her legs not used to moving.
"As long as you're up, milady," a rough, amused voice drawled, "we may as well get it over with, don't you think?"
Cecily glared at the guard who had spoken, her light, refreshed mood spoiled. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her plead for her life, instead, she glared into his eyes, dark as the sky that showed through the gaps in the leaves.
"We were going to wait 'til morning, you know," he continued cruelly, "but seeing as how you're anxious to get it over with�"
He twisted Cecily's arm behind her back, pushing her through the chilly darkness. It wasn't long before they arrived at a large tent and he pushed her inside.
The ceiling had to have been about ten feet off the ground, for even the guard, who had towered over her, had a few feet between his head and the upper flap. The wall flaps were far apart, and on the ground, a large blanket was spread like carpet. There were even chairs, and pillows, and several torches were lit all around the room.
Inside, a middle-aged man lounged against several pillows, a map spread on the table before him, and several older men sitting across from him on sturdy, straight-backed wooden chairs.
The guard coughed, and the middle-aged man looked up from his map.
"The lady prisoner!" he laughed. "Sally, was it?"
"Cecily Brinton," she narrowed her eyes, trying to make her words sting and her name sound as regal as possible.
The man caught onto this and raised his eyebrows. "Well, Lady Cecily," he said cheerfully, "I am Sir John Bexley. It's me you have to thank for the imminent downfall of your king."
"Sir?" Cecily was genuinely surprised. She'd thought the rebellion had been arranged solely by uneducated peasants. Although Bexley did seem rather unrefined. Perhaps he was of no higher status than a common man. "It seems they'll let anyone become a knight these days," she said icily.
Bexley furrowed his eyes together, his smirk fading from his face. "Oh? And it seems the loyalist side is falling faster than we'd thought, seeing how they're recruiting mere girls as soldiers."
Cecily glared. Bexley's wit was sharper than she'd presumed, she realized, catching the hidden meaning in that last crack. He may have been nothing but a common man, but she was only a common girl, and he could crush her just as easily as he was crushing her king and the loyalists. "Either that or the loyalist cause is noble enough for a mere girl to fight for," she said. It was a weak comeback, she knew, but she had to say something. Although after meeting Tam, she wasn't entirely positive about the nobility of either side.
Bexley rolled his eyes, obviously tiring of this game. "Girl, you are as weak as your cause. Why didn't you stay with your parents?"
"I came for my love, Galen," she said, although that was beginning to sound just like words after how many times she'd told herself that after all those long nights of being trapped in the tent. "And for the love of my king and country, and for my father's honor," she added hastily so not to sound like the childish airhead Bexley thought she was.
Bexley nodded. "Then you are not a child," he said, as if reading her thoughts. "I think your decisions were stupid ones, but you are not stupid nevertheless."
Cecily slowly nodded her head once, not quite catching on to what he was getting at.
"You are dangerous, you must realize that," Bexley continued. "If I allowed you to go back to your parents, you would simply return to the battlefield, we both know that. And you are strong. Because you would have no problem killing my men, I can't let the fact that you are a girl stand in the way of killing you."
Cecily glared at him, knowing now what he meant.
"So," Bexley concluded, "I will execute you this morning, within hours. It will be a quick death. You understand that this is not solely to set an example of you, although you will be used as an example. I don't want any girls fancying you a hero and leaving their chores and arranged marriages to fight. And I want to show the loyalists that we are not weak. So, strategically, your death is a very good thing, if that's any consolation."
"I'm so relieved," Cecily muttered under her breath.
Bexley laughed cruelly. "I'm almost sorry to see you go," he said, "Wit is in short supply at these times."
"I can see why," Cecily said curtly.
"Sir Bexley!" one of the older man, an advisor Cecily supposed, broke in. "We've much planning to finish."
"Right," Bexley said. "Lady Cecily, the guard will lead you to your own tent now. I trust you will have the propriety to stay in it this time?"
Before a retort could escape her lips, the guard had Cecily's arm wrapped around her back. With a hard shove, he pushed her back to her tent, which, curiously enough, had been set up again.
The guard didn't think much of it, and pushed her inside. Cecily felt vibrations in the ground with each rock he dropped around her. She didn't have time to feel angry or scared though, because something caught her eye, even in the stuffy darkness.
There was a slight metallic glint in one corner of the tent. She crawled to it to see what it was, and gasped.
There, lying in the matted down grass and dirt, was her bronze ring. She slipped it into her pocket and cried silently.
Sleep didn't come easily. In fact, Cecily hadn't realized it had come at all, until she felt herself being shaken awake. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to see that the tent had been removed from around her. A guard, stern but somewhat friendlier than yesterday's, was standing above her.
"It's time, milady," he said in a low voice, not meeting her eyes. "The soldiers are assembled. Bexley wanted them to watch."
Cecily nodded and sat up. Everything felt so unreal. Her dress, still the moss-green one she'd slipped on months ago, was ripped and stained and barely recognizable. Her hair lay in limp, waist-length greasy clumps of knots and snarls that wouldn't come out despite how she raked at it with her fingers. Even her skin was dirty, streaked with dust and dirt.
She was too ashamed to be seen looking like this; she didn't want her appearance to affect anyone's opinions of the loyalists.
"Guard?" she asked. "A long time ago, weeks perhaps, I heard my horse being killed." Even her own words didn't seem real; Cecily felt like she was watching from far away. How could Juniper be dead? How could she be dying within the hour?
The guard nodded uncomfortably.
"On her back were several packs of mine. Do you still have them?"
The guard shook his head. "Sorry, milady. Why do you ask?"
"I thought a change of clothes might be nice," Cecily said, hoping she didn't come off as too shallow, but then again not really caring either way.
The guard held on to Cecily's arm awkwardly and led her through the camp. Like the day Cormac had led her in, it was empty except for the few women who curiously poked their heads out of their tents to see the girl about to be executed. Knowing how bad she looked, Cecily felt terribly self-conscious, a feeling that was made ten times worse by the nervousness that accompanied by what she knew was coming next.
It wasn't the thoughts of death that felt like it was stuck in her throat and filling her stomach with butterflies; death felt far too unreal. Rather, it was more like stage fright, for she knew all the rebels and even some loyalist prisoners would be watching her. How was she going to act? She knew she didn't want to scream or cry or beg for her life; that would be undignified. But how would she handle the pain?
Before there was time to get too worried, they arrived at what she assumed was her execution site. There were even more people there than she'd anticipated. Thousands of men crowded around a small platform. When they saw the guard leading her, they parted, staring at her, judging the loyalists by her, and probably laughing internally at her, though their faces were solemn and everyone was silent.
The guard led her to the wooden platform. A dozen men stood on higher platforms around it, arrows ready. So they planned to shoot her to death.
After ascending onto the platform, Cecily stood there uneasily, not sure what was going to happen next. She searched the crowd for any familiar face, and picked out Cormac. His eyes were averted; he was too ashamed to meet hers.
On one side of the crowd there were especially lowly men, chained and heavily guarded. Cecily assumed they were loyalist prisoners, and was both disappointed and relieved to find that Galen was not among them, as far as she could see. While she was glad Galen wasn't captured and wouldn't share her fate, one last glimpse of him would have been nice.
There was a sudden impatient movement in the somber crowd, and Cecily nearly laughed out loud when she recognized Giles Nash.
But there was no sign of Tam, for which Cecily was grateful. She didn't want him to see anything happen to her; she wanted him to think she was as tough as he was, that she could defend herself, and that she wouldn't cry when she died.
Bexley climbed onto the platform next to her. "Cecily Brinton!" he yelled to the crowd, silencing whatever whispers had filled the air. "This young wench you see before you, was once one of you! She was once a simple country girl, like any of your sisters or daughters. She worked in the fields, and was arranged to be married to one of the wealthiest men in her town!"
What was he doing? Cecily wondered. The only effect she could see this speech having would be to win the rebels over to her side.
"Yet there was one difference!" Bexley paused for dramatic effect, and Cecily glared at him. "Her father was once a knight, he once fought against you and killed your kinsmen for the sake of the very king who tries to work you and tax you to death!"
There was a murmur in the crowd that was silenced when Bexley continued. "I'm not one to judge children by their parents. By all means, had she continued with her ordinary life like a Christian girl, I'd have never bothered her or her family. But she turned her back on what God gave her! She ran from her fate to fight for her father's sinful pride and to kill you men for the sake of a corrupt king. She has led other Christian girls to sin, girls who look at her atrocity as heroism and look at this criminal as a martyr." Bexley paused again, wiping the sweat off his brow.
"But I tell you now, this girl was not a martyr," he said, glaring back at Cecily. "She is dying not for a worthy cause, but as punishment for the evil she has bestowed on society. The only good she'll have accomplished by this is to have set an example that insolence will not be tolerated. Should anyone, man or woman, adult or child, attempt to defy the impending downfall of the oppressing king, they will be exterminated."
The crowd cheered loudly, and Cecily cast her eyes downward.
"So unless there is anyone who will thinks she has the right to live," Bexley concluded, "Keeping in mind, of course, that it will be wise to carefully watch what you say, her execution will commence presently."
No one moved. No one spoke. The silence sounded like a gavel pounding, sentencing Cecily to what she still hadn't accepted.
Bexley smiled. He had won. Without another word, he stepped off the platform.
"Ready!"
The executioners all around her raised their bows and arrows.
"Aim!"
Cecily wildly contemplated running away, although she knew it was too late, the guards would shoot at any sudden movements. She closed her eyes, waiting for the single syllable that would end her life.
It didn't come.
Cecily opened her eyes in time to see Tam drop out of nowhere and punch Bexley hard in the face. Bexley dropped to his knees, clutching the welt that was forming under his left eye.
Then Tam ran up onto the platform. "Come on!" He yelled to Cecily, seeing that she wasn't tied up.
"Fire!" yelled Bexley.
Arrows instantly began to rain down on them. Tam grabbed Cecily's hand and sheltered his head with his other arm, and ran faster than Cecily had ever run before. She sheltered her own head like she saw Tam doing, and ran with him, dodging the arrows and the rebels that were jumping before them.
"Faster!" Tam yelled, and if it was possible they increased their pace.
Someone grabbed onto the bottom of Cecily's skirt, pulling her back. The rebels started to close in on her, and she lost her grip on Tam's hand.
She screamed for help weakly, and Tam fought his way through the crowd to get to her.
"Cecily!" He reached for her hand, and Cecily grasped it. She was being pulled away again, but Tam wouldn't let go of her hand. She heard the hem rip on her skirt as Tam and the rebel played tug-of-war with her. Suddenly a piece of her skirt ripped off, and the rebel fell back, clutching the scrap of moss-green fabric.
Now was their chance. They ran away before the other rebels had a chance to react. Tam was quick, and by the time he'd dragged her away from the rebel camp, their pursuers were far behind. Still they continued to run, until the shouts from the camp were no longer audible.
Then he turned to her, panting softly but otherwise showing no signs of fatigue. Cecily sank against a tree, her mind as tired as her body from trying to work out what exactly had just happened.
"You saved me," she smiled at Tam.
"What, you didn't think I would?" Tam laughed. "God, and I thought the ring would be fair warning."
Cecily had forgotten about the ring. She pulled it from her pocket and slipped it onto her thumb, watching the bronze sparkle underneath the distant autumn sun. Suddenly she felt her heart leap for no reason at all and she ran the few steps over to Tam, falling into his arms.
"God, Tam," she whispered, for the first time forgetting about properness and complete sentences. She kissed him, and not because of their deal but because she'd wanted to all along.
Tam stumbled back at first, surprised at this sudden show of emotion. He studied Cecily's eyes for a few moments, and then kissed her back. His lips were warm and rough and tasted of the tears Cecily hadn't even realized were spilling from her eyes. Cecily tried to kiss him harder, tried to get closer to him, and in return he kissed her so gently, as if afraid if he kissed her too roughly she would break.
Suddenly she turned away, so abruptly that Tam nearly fell forward.
"What is it?" he asked, touching her shoulder. "Cecily�"
Cecily didn't look at him at first. She was too afraid. What had she just done? What would Galen think? She knew that what she'd done was wrong; why, then, was that the only thing she wanted to do now?
Finally she turned around and swallowed slowly. "There, now I paid you back," she said carefully, agonizingly slowly. She firmly set her jaw in place, careful not to show any emotions, because that would ruin it, then she would have to admit her feelings.
"You don't kiss someone like that just to pay them back," Tam ventured when he saw she wasn't about to go on.
He looked somewhat hurt, but Cecily couldn't bring herself to say any more about it. "Thank you for saving me," she said after awhile. Without realizing it, they had begun to walk.
"Yeah, well it was part of our deal," Tam said, his tone and expression maddeningly hard to read. "I told you I'd get you to your Galen." He spoke the last line bitterly, but Cecily still didn't say anything about it.
"I can't believe you hit Bexley," she said, trying to lighten the mood a little. "The look on his face�"
"Something I've wanted to do ever since I joined up with the rebels," Tam said, smiling, but his expression was still uncharacteristically dark.
"You're not going to get in trouble for that, are you?" Cecily asked, quickening her pace when she noticed that Tam was getting a few strides ahead of her.
"A' course I am," said Tam shortly.
"I'm sorry," said Cecily, feeling bad and knowing something was wrong with Tam.
"Don't be," Tam said sullenly. "Don't tell me you expected me to let you die, did you?"
Cecily suddenly stopped, and when Tam noticed he did too.
"What's wrong?" he asked warily.
"You tell me," said Cecily. "What's wrong with you, Tam?"
"Nothing," he said defensively.
"I know there's something wrong," Cecily said. She was hit with a sudden inspiration and changed her voice so her accent matched Tam's. "So unless you tell me, I'll have to lop off me own head."
She picked up a stick, and Tam laughed, remembering the day they'd met.
"Sorry," he said, "Nothing's really wrong, it's just that things are stressful. For the first time ever, I, Tam, am worried about tomorrow. I've never been worried about anything in me life!"
Cecily laughed. "Well, welcome to the world as the rest of us see it," she said good-naturedly.
Tam laughed, too. Cecily saw his effort to make his expression lighter.
"How far to the camp?" Cecily asked as they started walking again.
Tam shrugged. "Eh, a day or so." His arm brushed against Cecily's, and she jerked her arm away instinctively.
"Oh, that's not so bad," Cecily lied. In reality, she thought it sounded horrible, because it would give her time to think. She was starting to realize her feelings for Tam, and they were ones she wanted to stifle. She loved Galen, and she wanted to love Galen. Why then, did Tam's every move make her heart leap up to her throat and his smile make her melt?
The journey went slowly, despite Tam's constant jokes. The conversation had just dwindled down to an awkward silence when there was a twig snapped and the brush underfoot rustled, sounds that Cecily was beginning to dread.
"Tam!" Giles Nash yelled, popping out from behind a tree.
"Giles!" Tam greeted his friend. "How'd you get up ahead of me, y'old bastard?"
"I'm quicker!" Giles laughed. "You're getting slow in your old age!"
"Listen, what are you doing here?" Tam asked, suddenly serious. "We're not approaching a battle, are we?"
"Naw, nothing so exciting," Giles said, "But I've got some good news for you!"
"What is it?" Tam asked suspiciously.
Cecily anxiously tapped her toe, impatient to get going again.
"You'll never guess," Giles teased.
"Then tell me, you fool!" Tam was laughing.
"What would you do if I told you I got Bexley to forgive you that right hook you planted on his cheek?" Giles asked, immensely proud of himself.
"You what?" Tam laughed. "Giles, you old dog, this is wonderful! What did you do?"
"I just marched in there and said, 'Bexley, you and me ought to sit right down and negotiate,'" Giles said cockily. "So he let me in and I had a seat right on his cushioned chair, and drank a spot of his coffee, and we negotiated."
"What's the negotiation?" Cecily broke in.
"Tam gets to come back!" Giles looked at her incredulously. "Weren't you listening?"
"I was," said Cecily, "But you said you negotiated, as in he gives in a little and you give in a little?"
"Oh," Giles said, suddenly uncomfortable, "Right. About that�"
"Giles, what did you do?" Tam asked dubiously.
"Nothing!" Giles said, letting his wounded pride show. "He takes you back, and in return�" He nodded towards Cecily.
"What?"
"And in return," Giles raised his eyebrows. "You give him the girl," he whispered the last sentence, eying Cecily, as if ensuring that she hadn't heard.
"No!" Tam burst out. "That's ridiculous."
"T'ain't ridiculous!" Giles said defensively. "I had to argue with him all morning to get him to give you a second chance like that. Tam, you gotta come back. If you don't, when the rebels win�you won't get let off easy. And anyway, don't you want to fight for the rebels? For the adventures? Like before?"
Tam nodded slowly, considering the adventures he'd had with his best friend, fighting for what he believed in, and being killed if he didn't come back right then. It was obviously the most logical choice. But if he took it, what would they do with Cecily?
"No," he said softly.
"Tam, you old softy!" Giles yelled. "She's a girl! A stupid girl who ran away to chase her boyfriend! She'd have you killed in a minute to get to her precious loyalist boy! You mean nothing to her; she's using you! Don't tell me you'd choose her over me, your rights, and your very own God damn life!"
Cecily drew in a breath. She trusted Tam with her life, but Giles's offer was rather hard to turn down.
Tam shook his head.
"Tam, c'mon!" Giles growled angrily. "Please. You're my only friend, and I don't want to see anything happen to you because of some wench." He glared contemptuously at Cecily.
"No," Tam said firmly. "Giles, I'm taking Cecily to the loyalist camp. You're welcome to join us." He began to walk, and Cecily followed him.
"No!" Giles yelled, running after them. "Tam, you idiot! It's not like they'll let you go free from the loyalist camp! They'll kill you!"
Tam didn't say anything, only looked at his friend.
"And if by the grace of God you get away from there, Bexley will catch you and kill you!" Giles continued. "Please, Tam, please just come now! It's your only hope."
"No," said Tam. Cecily could tell this was tearing him apart.
"Then forget about our stupid friendship!" Giles burst out. "Forget what life was like where you grew up! Forget what you were fighting for! It won't be hard for me to forget you, Tam, because I don't even know you anymore."
Giles started to slip away as sneakily as he'd appeared.
"Giles, wait!" Tam suddenly called out. "Giles! Come with us, I'll need your help escaping the loyalist camp!"
Giles didn't come back.
The rest of the journey was horrible.
They reached the loyalist camp that night after sundown.
"This'll be perfect," Tam whispered. "They won't even know I was here."
They slowly tiptoed to the edge of the camp silently, both feeling the tension between them.
"Come with me," Cecily breathed suddenly. "Help me find my way through the camp. It's dark."
"They'll kill me, milady," Tam whispered. "Good luck, Cecily. I�" Without another word he kissed her passionately, leaning in for a kiss to rival the one they'd shared earlier, a kiss that would speak for him the words he felt but couldn't express.
Cecily turned her head away, breaking off the kiss. "Goodbye, Tam," she said as gently as she could. "And thank you."
Tam nodded and Cecily started to walk away. The moment she turned around, she regretted leaving him and turned around to apologize, to hug him and kiss him, to tell him how she felt. She spun around to face him, but he was gone.
Cecily shook her head. It was probably for the best that he was gone; one day she knew she would realize that. She carefully made her way through the camp, tripping over shrubs and tents. Finally she found a small spot under a tree where most of the shrubbery had been cleared away, and she lay down to rest.
She woke up a few hours later, either because of the sound of a bugle or the sunbeam shining in her face. The camp was bustling with men hastily preparing themselves for battle, and like the rebel camp, a few women tending to the injured soldiers.
Cecily wandered about without being noticed. She looked carefully for Galen, but didn't see him, or anyone else she recognized. She saw a dead soldier, still in his armor, laying under one of the trees. Smiling, she remembered her original plan to dress like her father's son, and before she had time to properly think it through, she'd slipped the dead soldier's chain mail on and was fastening his heavy sword to her belt.
By the time she was ready, the camp was clearing, and she had to run to keep up with the men. It was difficult as the armor was incredibly heavy and restricted her movement, but she pressed on, panting.
"Do you know Galen?" she asked, deepening her voice, when she caught up with the rest of the soldiers.
The man next to her looked at her strangely but didn't say anything.
"Do you know Galen?" she asked again, to no one in particular.
No one answered; they were all silent. They seemed as nervous as Cecily had been before she was about to be shot. It was not a good omen.
Cecily marched on silently with them, falling into line. They marched for a long time; it seemed like hours, before the man directly in front of her yelled suddenly and fell down.
Cecily tripped over him. There was an arrow in his neck that had somehow managed to pierce through one of the cracks in his armor. Not a lot of blood seeped through, but Cecily knew it would if she removed the arrow. The man was alive, and was struggling silently, but his eyes were already starting to glaze over. Swallowing, Cecily pulled herself to her feet to avoid being marched over. A few other men fell before the rebels fully came into view.
All the soldiers stopped marching. There was an agonizing moment when no one moved before a general gave the order to attack. Instantly both sides ran at each other. Cecily was pushed down in the commotion, and struggled to stand up. She didn't want to kill anyone, so instead she occupied herself with not getting hurt or trampled over.
In the midst of the struggle, she noticed a soldier with particularly shabby armor, chain mail she recognized.
"Galen!" she cried, forgetting to deepen her voice, and ran to him.
At the sound of his name, Galen whipped around confusedly. It was a big mistake; he'd no sooner turned his back on the enemy than a rebel stabbed him hard in the back, easily penetrating Galen's old rusty armor.
"No!" Cecily shrieked, running to where Galen had fallen. She pulled the sword from Galen's hands and fended off the rebel, not killing him but causing him to retreat. Then she fell on her knees before Galen and dragged him under a tree.
"No!" she cried again, covering his wound with her hands to stop the blood.
Galen moaned. "Cecily, what are you doing here?"
Cecily didn't answer, only removed his helmet so he could breathe fresh air. "You'll be okay," she whispered, her voice not even convincing enough to ensure herself of that. "It'll all be okay. You'll heal and we'll get married, Galen. And the loyalists will win and the king will reward you for your bravery."
Galen just stared at her in disbelief, his breathing shallow. "We're losing, Cecily. The rebels�are winning�and I�am dying."
"No!" Cecily cried. Without realizing it, she'd pressed harder on Galen's wound, and he moaned loudly.
The battle was raging all around them, but no one paid any heed to the two of them. All around them men were falling and dying, but it all still seemed unreal, the only thing Cecily saw at that moment was Galen.
Cecily removed her helmet and took off some of her armor so she could reach into one of the folds in her dress. She pulled out both halves of the little wooden heart and pressed them into Galen's hand. He closed his hand, not looking at the heart but recognizing the feel of it. A brave smile started on his lips, but he didn't say anything.
Cecily stroked his hair. She knew he was right, but it was too unfair. There was nothing she could do to save him, and they both knew it. Still, Cecily tried to give him hope. "After we're married, and after all the fuss about your heroism wears down, the two of us will buy a farm together, far away from Frivolsport in the country. And we'll buy a cow that will get so spoiled she'll visit me in the kitchen when I'm doing the dishes, and a dog that will sleep at the foot of our bed, and a cat we'll buy to keep mice out of the barn, but she'll end up playing inside with our children. We'll have at least five, little boys and girls that look like you and me. Oh, Galen, it'll be wonderful." She spoke quickly and fretfully, trying to keep Galen's mind off the pain.
"Cess," he choked out finally. "I love you."
Cecily drew in a breath. She knew the answer she was supposed to give, she just wasn't sure how truthful it was anymore. Still, she smiled. "And I love you, Galen."
Galen smiled, looking peaceful despite his raspy breathing. He closed his eyes, and Cecily helplessly listened to his breathing slow and stop. She blinked hard. Now that he was gone, what was she to do? She'd spent so long trying to get to him, and now he was gone. And now she'd have to marry Slyfield. She'd ruined everything.
She stood up in a daze, the sounds of the battle filling her head. Someone ran at her with a sword. She wasn't prepared to fight, so she stood there, looking in the face of the person she knew would be killing her. Before the sword made contact with her uncovered neck, another sword blocked it with a loud clank.
Cecily watched the two fight, and realized by the looks of them that they were both rebels. The one that saved her fell, and the other one ran away, victorious, to find another person to kill.
Cecily ran to the one that had fallen. He was injured as badly as Galen had been. With a deep breath, Cecily removed his helmet, wanting to see who had forfeit his own life to save her, a member of the opposite side. She gasped with surprise when she saw Giles.
"Giles!" she exclaimed. "Why did you do that? I thought you hated me!"
Giles shrugged painfully, propping himself up against a tree. "Yeah, well Tam loves you. And he's my best friend."
Cecily just stood there stupidly, staring in disbelief. Tam loved her? "Thank you," she finally said, kneeling by Giles. "Do you need anything?"
"Yeah," said Giles. "I need you to get the hell away from here before anything else can happen to you." He started to cough, but continued anyway. "Go find Tam and you better tell the bastard you love him back. And then tell him I do too." Giles was coughing up blood. Cecily sat by him, horrified. "Go!" he exclaimed, coughing harder.
Cecily nodded and started to walk away. She looked back after she'd gotten not even twenty feet away, and saw that he had stopped coughing, and his head rested motionless on his shoulder.
Suddenly things became very real to her. Thousands of people were dying. They were suffering, and they would never come back. The smell of blood was nauseating, and she almost got sick. As she ran away from the battlefield, she began to cast off her armor, leaving it strewn among the trees. Seeing that she was a girl, no one tried to hurt her again.
When she was out of the battle, she kept running until the shouts of men could no longer be heard. Then she lay under the canopy of semi-bare trees in a bed of golden leaves, trying to cry but finding that she was too shocked. The fact that she couldn't cry after seeing all that made her hate herself for being so insensitive. Pictures of Galen and Giles played over and over in her mind. It was her fault both of them were dead. Had she not been so stupid as to try to come to Galen, she never would have distracted him, and he probably would have come home to her. And she never would have met Tam, so Giles wouldn't have died either.
Finally, she shakily pulled herself to her feet. She had to find Tam. It was no use denying anymore that she loved him. It wasn't fair to her, and it wasn't fair to Tam, and it wasn't fair to Giles. She felt bad about Galen though, but she could only hope that if he were alive he would understand.
She didn't know where Tam would be. He'd told her that he grew up in Frivolsport the day they met. She knew the chances that he'd be there now were slim to none, but she didn't know where else to look for him.
The journey went quickly, as Cecily was numb to any emotions. She walked day and night, not craving food or sleep and ignoring her aching muscles. It was days before she got to Frivolsport, and when she got there she didn't care how horrid she looked.
The streets bustled with children and solemn-faced women. The men, Cecily supposed, were all off at the war. Cecily asked around, hoping one of them would know Tam. No one did, except for a few people who hadn't seen him since he was three feet tall and ran around with his little friend Giles. Cecily swallowed, not wanting to tell any of them what had happened to Giles, especially since it was her fault.
When Cecily had all but given up, she stopped at a little inn to stay for the night. She warily asked the owner, a grandmotherly woman with a little knot of white hair, if she had seen Tam.
"Tam?" The old woman tossed the name around in her mind. "A few inches taller than you, brown hair and eyes, rather handsome?" She finally asked, her eyes twinkling.
"Yes!" Cecily exclaimed. "Have you seen him?"
The woman laughed. "He practically lives here! Calls me Auntie he does! If you stay here long enough you'll probably see him."
Cecily smiled, her dry lips stinging, unaccustomed to being stretched in such a way. The lady showed her upstairs to a room where size had no effect on the number of beds crammed in. There was a window slit high on the wall, and thin straw mattresses were flopped onto tiny metal cots, each only a little over a foot apart. The room was hot despite the cool rainy weather, and it was dirty and smelled of sickness, but Cecily gratefully laid on one of the cots, and slept for the first time in days.
When she woke up, she didn't feel refreshed, but for a few blissful moments she blinked up at the ceiling without any recollection of what had happened. When it all came back to her a few seconds later, it felt like a huge weight was pressing down on her head, and if she'd had the energy she would have cried.
Still, she wanted to get to Tam, so she sat up against the weight pressing down on her, and peering out the window found that it was morning. There wasn't a pan of water to wash in, and Cecily didn't have a change of clothes, so after wiping the sleep from her eyes she stumbled down the stairs.
"Slept clean through two whole days," the lady chirped the moment she saw Cecily. "Starting to think you'd sleep through till the end of the world. But you're up and at 'em, and you'll be happy to know your Tam came."
"He came!" Cecily sighed contentedly.
"And he left," the woman shrugged. "Can't tie that boy down."
"Well where is he?" Cecily asked. "Did you tell him I was here?"
"I did," said the woman hesitantly. "But he left anyway. Said he'd had enough heartbreak for one lifetime."
Cecily massaged the bridge of her nose gently, trying to ease her headache.
"But if I were you," the woman continued, "I'd check the old Arundell place. It's where the boy's father lived, on the outskirts."
"Thank you," Cecily sighed. She was out door and several blocks away when she realized she'd left without paying. She didn't turn back though, despite the woman's kindness, for even if she'd been willing to turn back and waste time, she hadn't the money.
The outskirts were not hard to find, for ironically enough they seemed to make up most of Frivolsport. They were comprised of shabbier houses than Cecily could ever have imagined, tiny and broken down. Several families might share single-roomed houses, which appeared dirtier than the roads that made Cecily cringe as she walked gingerly over them.
She was pointed to the Arundell place, and her heart sunk when she saw it was the shabbiest one of all. She was surprised it was even standing, for it looked as though a single breath would topple it like a pile of blocks.
She knocked carefully on the door. "Tam?" she asked, her voice hollow.
There was no reply, only a shuffling inside, and the sound of a latch falling over the door.
She knocked more insistently, and after a few moments the door was flung open.
"Cecily!" Tam gasped, seeing who it was.
"Tam!" Cecily returned, longing to lean into his familiar arms and never leave.
"I'd invite you in, but I think stay you'd rather out here," Tam gestured in at his house. "God, Cecily, when I heard you knocking I thought you were Bexley."
Cecily looked him up and down, and saw that his eyes had lost some of his twinkle, and that bruise-like bags hung beneath them. She supposed her face mirrored his. "Do you think he'll come for you?"
Tam nodded. "I'm almost certain. He used to capture and kill any soldier who deserted in front of the rest of us. I'm afraid he's a bit angrier at what I did than simply deserting. It's just as well," he added after a moment, seeing the expression on Cecily's face. "I was born low and I'll die low. Ain't got anyone who cares anyway."
"Don't talk like that," Cecily chided gently. "I care."
"Not as much as you do for your Galen," Tam said bitterly, glancing away from her eyes.
"Tam, Galen's dead," Cecily said, the words foreign. "As is Giles, and hundreds of the others."
"God," Tam choked out. "Giles? Really? And I'm sorry about Galen�"
Cecily shook her head, not yet ready to talk about it, and especially not wanting Tam to know that both deaths had been her fault. "Tam, you have to get out of here," she finally said. "If they find us, they'll kill me too. And I'm not ever leaving your side again."
Tam's eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to figure out what was going on behind Cecily's eyes, but after awhile he gave up and looked away. "Cecily, I'm not leaving here. And you're not staying with me."
Cecily sighed. "Then I'll just have to lop off me head." She pretended to chop off her head, but their joke somehow wasn't funny anymore.
Tam managed a weak smile, obviously plastered on for the sole purpose of cheering Cecily up. "I'll take you back home, milady," he said gently, "but I'll never run from my fate."
"It's a deal," said Cecily, smiling genuinely, for she knew that once she got Tam back to her house she might get him to stay.
They walked slowly out of town to Cecily's house. Tam knew the land, and they were able to avoid most of the desert, so the journey went rather quickly. They talked little, and Tam was as distant as he'd been the last time she saw him.
Remembering what Giles had said, Cecily finally admitted her feelings out loud, breaking a silence that had reigned for several days. "I love you Tam."
Tam stopped sharply and looked at her. "You do?" he asked quietly.
Cecily nodded. "I tried not to, but I couldn't help it, so I tried to hide it, but that's impossible." She was babbling, and she longed for Tam to say anything.
Tam bit his lip thoughtfully. "I�I don't know how I feel," he finally said cautiously. It was not the answer Cecily was looking for. "When I first met you I thought I loved you, because you were all I could think about, and I wanted to be closer to you so much it almost hurt. But the more I got to know you, the more I grew to like you, as a friend as much as anything more. When we kissed and you said it was to pay me back, I hated you as passionately as I loved you, and I've been torn ever since. And now, hearing you say that�I'm not sure the words 'I love you' can sum up how I feel."
Cecily smiled. "Do you want to start over?"
Tam shrugged. He didn't say anything, but Cecily saw that the sparkle was back in his eye. He hesitated before grasping her hand, remembering how she'd turned away last time he tried to kiss her. "Is this okay?" he said, squeezing her hand, "Because if it's not, we can always-,"
"Tam."
"You know, because I don't want you to-,"
"Tam, shut up," Cecily laughed, and Tam stopped talking. "It's perfect."
They kissed then, softly and gently; each afraid that the other wasn't really there, that if they moved too suddenly the world would come apart like a dream.
There was one little town just a few miles before Cecily's village. She and Tam reached it later that day, still holding hands, each with a shy grin on their faces.
They'd been chattering for hours, and Tam had even agreed to stay with Cecily. He told her he'd never be able to afford a ring, even a little bronze one like Galen's, but Cecily didn't care. Their life together would be worth more than a ring.
Their happy mood was shattered when they entered the town and pushed through a mob of people, curious to see what they were crowding around. A sinister whoosh of air stopped them in their tracks, and with a plopping noise, they saw a head fall to the ground. It was then propped up on a stake and displayed by the road.
Over and over again heads were chopped off, until Cecily, wild with distress, called out to no one in particular, "Why are they doing this?"
"Haven't you heard?" a woman said as casually as if talking about washing her laundry. "The king's lost; they're executing all opposed to Lord Bexley."
Cecily's jaw dropped. That included her family, and her, and even Tam.
She ran the last few miles home to warn her parents, Tam trailing after her.
Galen's mother caught her on the street just down the road from her house. "Cecily!" she gasped, hugging her close, a tears streaming down her face. "We were sure we'd lost you, too!"
"No," Cecily said, tears starting to run down her own face. "Galen saved me."
His mother's face instantly brightened. "He's alive then?"
Cecily paused before a moment before silently shaking her head no. "He died rescuing me," she whispered.
"Did he suffer?" his mother choked out.
Cecily shook head again, unable to lie out loud. She'd seen the look on Galen's face, heard his labored breathing. If that wasn't suffering, what was? Still, she couldn't bear to tell this to his mother.
Cecily tried to smile. "I'm so sorry. I have to go home though. Have to see my parents."
Galen's mother's gasped. "You mean you don't know?"
The look on her face said it all, but Cecily couldn't accept what she knew was ahead. Nearly having to push Galen's mother out of the way, she sprinted the half-mile to where her house should have been, finding only ashes. It had been burned to the ground.
Falling to her knees about where her and Bridget's bedroom would have been, she pawed around in the ashes. Everything was gone. She knew her entire family was too, her father, her mother, Bridget, only twelve years old, so young and eager to fall in love. Even Baby Molle was gone. They'd all been executed because her father was loyal to the king.
"God," Tam panted, catching up to where Cecily sat bawling.
"Why do I have to be alive?" she cried. "This isn't fair!"
"Cecily, you're all I've got," Tam said, and if Cecily wasn't mistaken his voice sounded a little choked.
"And you're all I've got," said Cecily, attempting to dry her face, a lost cause.
Galen's mother came running over a few minutes later, awkwardly hobbling along the road. "Cecily!" she shrieked. "Cecily, you have to leave! The rebels will be coming for you any minute!"
Cecily nodded. "Thank you," she said, kissing Galen's mother on the cheek. She started to run away, and then on an afterthought slipped the bronze finger off her thumb and into Galen's mother's hand. "This is from Galen," she said after a moment, and ran away before his mother could stop her.
Cecily's hand felt oddly naked without the ring.
"Why did you do that?" asked Tam as they ran away.
"I didn't need it anymore," she said. "I don't need to hold onto Galen anymore. I have you."
They ran deep into the forest for days, until the trees were so thick and dense the paths became hard to navigate and not even Tam knew where they were. There they built a little cottage and lived off the land for many years.
Lord Bexley took over after the war, and Cecily heard that he ruled more harshly than the previous king had.
Opposition rose up against him before long, and many more revolutions took place, and many more men died, but it seemed no matter who was in power no one was satisfied.
Still, Cecily and Tam lived together happily, far away from civilization. The rebels never bothered them; Cecily figured they probably assumed they were dead when they never found them. However, they weren't completely alone either. They were frequently visited by curious children from the village who came for stories of adventures and wars and of rescuing damsels in distress, and by Giles Nash, who said it "takes more than a sword" to kill him.
The End
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