Valour and Victory (38 page)

Wonder who it
is?

Zilla gave her
patient an encouraging pat.

He didn’t look
too happy about the temporary replacement. Zilla’s gentle hands
were famous and Sister Harrisdochter’s were not.

Zilla didn’t
recognise Robain at first. When the young officer had visited the
inn the previous summer he had been dressed in nondescript
travelling clothes. This man was dressed in Garda blue and was, as
she realised by the shape of his jacket and the beading on it, an
officer

Robain turned.
His face broke into a smile.

“Zilla,” he
greeted her, “you look older.”

“It has been a
year,” she answered. “It’s good to see you Robain. I’m glad you
made it.”

“Yes. So many
have died …” His voice trailed off.

“You’ve heard
then, about Hilla?”

“Liam
wrote.”

Neither quite
knew what to say next. Robain broke the silence.

“I feel I
failed her. I wasn’t there.”

Zilla smiled
sadly. “Don’t say that. Hilla always said that if she had to die
young she wanted to die in a famous battle doing something
heroic.”

“She got her
wish.” Robain’s voice sounded bitter.

“She died doing
what she wanted to do. Hilla lived for the Garda. She didn’t
want
to die but she was prepared for that eventuality. She
was one of thousands of ordinary men and woman who wanted to live
but gave up their lives so that others could. I keep trying to
remind myself of that.”

“I passed one
of the graveyards on my way here,” said Robain then, “I presume
Hilla is in one somewhere?”

Zilla nodded,
“and Zak and Maura.”

“Maura?” he
queried.

“My friend. You
might have seen her at the inn when you visited. She was one of the
maids.”

“I’m sorry,”
said Robain.

“You’ve missed
Rilla and Zawlei,” said Zilla in a too bright voice. “They’ve gone
back north.”

Zilla chattered
on, anything to stop this talk of death. “Matt’s gone back too. He
mentioned you, he came to see me before the Stewarton Militia left.
He talked about when you stayed at his house.”
How do I ask if
Walter survived?
“We talked a lot about Tala.” Her voice
broke.

“She was a
heroine,” said Robain.

“That doesn’t
make her death any easier. I don’t envy Rilla, she and Zawlei are
going to visit Mother and Father on their way back to Vada. They’ll
know about Hilla and Zak by now but Rilla said it would be best if
she told them about Tala herself.”

“A sad and
difficult task,” said Robain who had visited grieving relatives
before.

There was
silence as both remembered friends who were no longer with
them.

Zilla took a
deep breath and asked, in as nonchalant a voice as she could, “what
happened to the three southerners who came with you to the inn?
Philip, James and … Walter wasn’t it?”

“James is dead.
He went back home and was killed in the massacre at the Cocteau
manor.”

“That’s a
shame, such a happy go lucky, cheerful person.”

“He was. Philip
survived too. The King has made him Lord Marshall.”

“He has a
family doesn’t he?”

“All well and
happy to see him home safe.”

“And Walter?”
Zilla gazed at the canvas of the mess tent.

“He’s fine too.
I was with him the entire time.”

“Did he have to
fight?”

“He did and he
was very brave.”

“Was he
wounded?” she asked with a catch in her voice.

“Not a
scratch.”

Zilla almost
fainted with relief.

“Come and sit
down,” said Robain, noticing her white face. “I’ve got something to
tell you, a story which began over a year ago and before even
then.”

Robain sat down
on a nearby chair and patted the one beside it.

“I should get
back to my ward.”

“Your patients
can do without you for a little longer. Come. Sit.”

After she was
settled, Robain began.

“Once upon a
time there was a Prince …”

* * * * *

Rilla

Rilla and
Zawlei topped the well-remembered hill that overlooked the
sprawling buildings of Dunetown and stopped. Rilla was reluctant to
go any further.

: I don’t want
to :

Zawlei was
adamant.

: You must
:

: Mother and
Father might not know yet :
she fretted. The casualty notices
had been leaving Settlement for a number of tendays now, carried
over the miles by the Express to most if not all, of the towns and
villages and to many crofts and farmsteads as well.

The cost of
victory had been a high one for Argyll. Half the Garda were gone
and a full third of the Militia.

Nadala had
given Rilla permission to break her journey (the First Ryzck were
on their way to take up their patrol sector along the coast) and to
visit her parents.

Her new uniform
tunic still felt tight around her neck and she still felt
self-conscious in the maroon and silver rather than cadet maroon
and white.

: Let’s get
it over with :
she decided at last and Zawlei began to pick his
way down the hill towards the inn.

Zawlei kept to
a walk. He had reasoned that it would not be fitting to run in at
speed on a sad occasion such as this.

Thus it was
that Zawlei came to a halt at the main door of the inn and in front
of a silent group of inn servants. Her father stood to one side but
Rilla’s mother was nowhere to be seen. He looked tired and his eyes
were red-rimmed.

“Father,” Rilla
greeted him.

“Daughter,” he
answered, “you are safe. We did not know. You aren’t wounded?”

“Only a
scratch,” she said and slithered off Zawlei’s back. She winced as
her left foot hit the ground, it was only a scratch when compared
with the wounds others had suffered but it still hurt when she
tried to put her weight on it.

Talan noticed
but said nothing.

“We heard about
your brother and sisters,” he informed her in a curiously even
voice. “There’s hardly a family in the town that hasn’t lost
someone. The notices said that all three died bravely.”

“Where’s
Mother?” asked Rilla.

“Upstairs,
crying. I can’t get her to stop crying.”

“Can I go to
her?”

He nodded.
“Call me if you need me. I’ll see to your Lind, Zawlei is it
not?”

“Zawlei, this
is my Father.”

“Pleased meet
you,” said Zawlei, inclining his head in greeting.

“Go on Rilla,”
insisted Talan, “I’m not angry with either of you any more. I’m
just happy to see you here safe and sound. I’ve lost too many of my
children to let past differences come between us. Go to your
Mother.”

: Yes. Go. I
will talk to your Father. I will tell him how Hilla and Zak died.
He needs to hear about it so that he can accept what has happened
:

As Rilla
slipped past Talan he asked, “have you seen Zilla?”

“Yes, she’s
fine. She sends her love and says she hopes to be coming home
soon.”

Talan
smiled.

“That at least
is good to hear. The place seems empty without her merry chatter
around the place. Be sure to tell Zanda.”

“I will,” Rilla
called back over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs up to her
mother’s bedroom.

* * * * *

The Ammokko

She had become
a vast hulk of crumpled, tangled metal. Her journey was over at
last.

Brion and the
other vadeln of the Fifty-first Ryzck were picking over the
wreckage but they were finding little they recognised. Everything
flammable had vaporised in the explosion. Much of what remained
disintegrated as they touched it so intense had been the blast when
the power-core had exploded. There was nothing here. Even what he
assumed were the vast engines, which had powered the space ship,
were falling apart.

Wind and
weather would eradicate all traces of the ship and that was as it
should be. He poked at a small pile of metal shards with a
stick.

Something was
glinting in the sunlight. With the stick he manoeuvred the shiny
object towards him. It was a round metal plate and there were
letters on it, letters Brion did recognise.

“WCCS
Melbourne,
” he read aloud from the badly scarred plate.

Brion had
solved the mystery of what had happened to at least one of the
other spaceships that had set out from Planet Earth with the WCCS
Argyll and the WCPS Electra over six hundred years ago.

The WCCS
Melbourne
had met the Dglai. She had not survived the
encounter.

* * * * *

Robain and
Zilla

“So when
are
you coming home?” asked Liam of Robain then adding
shrewdly, “or are you not?”

“I haven’t
resigned my commission,” answered Robain. “My detachment never had
a time limit. When Major Bellahouston arranged it I don’t suppose
he thought it would last longer than a few months. I was only
supposed to help guard Elliot for the time it took him to complete
his tour of Argyll. He didn’t envision the war.”

“Nobody did.
Have you reported to General de Groot?”

“I have. I
spoke to her at length. She agreed with me that I should remain in
Murdoch for the time being. She calls it military liaison. Not all
the Dglai have been located, they’re holed up among the mountains
in the south. I think she wants someone at Fort who she can trust.
She’s asked that I send her reports at regular intervals.” He
looked over to where the hospital tents were flapping in the
breeze. “Anyway, there’s nothing to hold me to the north any more
now that Hilla is gone and General de Groot is not the only person
who needs someone trustable at Fort. Elliot does too.”

“The King?”

“You’ve no idea
what it can be like there. Even after everything they’ve been
through the nobility are still bitching at each other. The war made
a massive dent in their ranks and they’re all worrying about
inheritances, titles and what estate goes to whom. He’s got some
good ideas about how to handle the situation and I’ve got hopes
that it will work out in the end.”

“So you might
never be coming back? Don’t worry, your secret is safe … but why
are you taking my best nurse with you when you return? You’re not
thinking of marrying instead of her sister surely.”

“I assure you
that nothing is further from my thoughts.”

“So why is she
going?”

“Can you keep
another secret?”

* * * * *

The horse
Robain had managed to find for Zilla watched her approach from wary
brown eyes.

“Her name is
Destry. Her last master didn’t make it. She was found wandering
around the battlefield when it was all over and I persuaded the
Duchesne Horsemaster to hand her over to me.”

“She’s very
big,” said Zilla, “but I expect I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure
Elliot will get you something more suitable when we get to the
palace. This one is a battle mare so be careful how you handle
her.”

“I wonder what
happened to my pony Lightfoot,” said Zilla, placing her foot in the
stirrup and jumping around as she tried to gain enough momentum to
scramble up on to the saddle.

“Want a leg
up?” offered Robain.

“I can do it,”
a determined Zilla answered and managed it. Destry stood like a
rock as she adjusted the stirrup leathers.

“Where
is
your pony?” asked Robain.

“I rode her to
Settlement when I ran away to join the army. Blunder is there too,
Maura rode him. Garda took them over. Said they would keep them
until I got back. Only, I’m not going back, am I?”

Robain thought
for a bit, “They’ll return them to your Father. The Garda are very
meticulous. If you want though, I’ll see what I can do about
getting Lightfoot here.”

“And Blunder.
Would you Robain?” Zilla’s face broke out into one of its dimpled
smiles. “That would be marvellous!” Her face fell. “But would it
cost a lot of coin? I don’t have much.”

Robain laughed.
“Coin? Oh Zilla, you’ll be the end of me! Coin she says when she’s
about to become a Queen. If you wanted Lightfoot, Blunder and all
the ponies of Argyll brought here, Elliot would probably empty his
coffers to get them here for you!”

“Really?”

“Really. Now, I
see out escort approaching. Wait here while I have a last word with
Liam and then we’ll be off. I’ll ask him to set enquiries in motion
as to Lightfoot’s whereabouts.”

“Blunder
too.”

“Blunder too.
Now wrap that cloak round your shoulders and put on the hat. I’m to
try to get you to the palace without too many people seeing you and
that blonde mop of yours is very noticeable.”

Zilla put on
the hat and stuffed her hair inside it as Robain went to say his
farewells.

Destry stood
like a rock, like the well-schooled battle mare she was.

* * * * *

Robain, Zilla
and their escort (it numbered six) rode in a south-westerly
direction, through the forests of Duchesne and into the Duchy of
Gardiner, past farms, villages and the occasional town.

“It’s very like
home,” Zilla said to Robain, “and no sign of the war.”

“The Larg
didn’t get this far,” he answered, “and yes, it is very like the
part of Argyll you come from. It changes as we get further south.
You’ll see.”

“In what way?”
she asked, kneeing Destry in an attempt to keep her up with the
pace Robain’s horse was setting.

Although
well-trained, Destry was becoming lazy. Her late master had been a
large, heavyset man of a determined disposition and the mare hadn’t
dared try and disobey him. Her new owner was very small and gentle
and the mare wasn’t sure she wanted to obey her commands of rein
and heel. She was as different from the eager little Lightfoot as
chalk was from cheese. What didn’t help was that Zilla had refused
Robain’s offer of his spare set of spurs.