Page 25 of The Duke's Return
For a while, he was able to doze. The night was dark and quiet with only the occasional sound of an owl. His large bed hosted a large canopy that blocked out most of the shadows and other troubles. But it didn’t take long for Julian’s rest to grow disrupted as it was often wont to do.
He tossed and turned. Restless and lost in his dreams, he struggled to make sense of what was memory and what was real.
Thinking of the hot damp of his hands, Julian made out the face of his good friend now pale from blood loss. The man’s grasp on Julian’s uniform was loosening by the second.
“Take me home,” Colonel Davis whispered. “I want to see my farm again.”
“I will,” Julian said, his promise low and heartfelt even as someone clamped their hand on his shoulder. “Captain? Captain, we have to help Davis to safety. If you take his legs, I can––”
The brusque voice responded, “No. He’s already gone.”
Although Julian shook his head, he glanced down again to see that his captain was right. Davis was staring at him but he wasn’t breathing. The grip on his uniform jacket was loose. When Julian jerked in surprise, the hand fell between them.
“But he asked… Can we return his body?”
“This is war,” was all his captain had to say as a reminder. Julian knew what it meant. No honor. No homecoming. No way to keep his promise.
How many promises did he have to break simply because it was war?
Tearing himself from the bitter dream, Julian wrestled free of his blankets. He dried the damp on his face after making sure his hands were no longer covered in blood. A vague memory returned of how long it had taken to get the dark stain out from under his nails. Clenching his hands into fists, Julian shook his head.
“It’s just a memory,” he told himself out loud. “It’s over.”
The war might not be entirely over, he knew, but right now his portion was. He recalled the parting words of his captain––Julian had a replacement. There was no need or expectation for him to return. But he had insisted, promising his captain he would be back soon. That he belonged out there in the navy.
It's not as though I belong anywhere else, do I?
Looking up, Julian found that daylight was already breaking free. He slid free of the bed to gaze out into the dawn. It turned the sky into a dark gray that would soon turn into something magnificent. The sunrises here were beyond stunning.
All he had to do was wait until then.
He paced about as the remnants of his dream haunted him. Though he had written a letter to Davis’s home, sending them what he’d found in his friend’s coat along with some funds, it had not been enough to help Julian be free of his guilt. There were a few good men he had lost along the way, though they had rarely been in the line of fire.
“You’re only a boy playing at soldiers,” Julian could hear his father’s voice snarling in his head. “There is a title on your shoulders, a mantle of ancestors past relying on you to manage our family name. You are more important than footpads in uniform. How dare you pretend to be anything else?”
“Leave him be. It’s not as though you’ve done anything worthy of note in your lifetime,” his mother would have responded dryly.
Julian shook his head. There was a heavy itch underneath his skin he couldn’t leave alone. Not in this room where his past haunted him. Moving about, he managed to dress himself in something somewhat respectable. After he pulled back the curls into a tight queue, he fled from his chamber and down the stairs.
So what if I am not worth a pound? I can still do something. I have to!
It must have rained some in the night. Stepping outside, Julian was met with a dewy morning. He could feel the moisture thick in the air. Breathing in deep, he put his hands on his hips to force himself to keep walking.
His steps were large and swift all the same. Soon, he had reached the stables. Waving off a bleary-eyed stable boy, Julian murmured for him to go back to bed. He might have been in the navy, but he could still manage a horse all on his own.
“Good morning, my boy,” he muttered under his breath to Prince, a energetic two-year-old horse he’d won in a gambling den just before his wedding. The horse had been brought here and was already wide-awake, and very curious about him. “Yes, I can tell you need to stretch your legs now, eh?”
It didn’t take him long to saddle and prepare the horse. A strap here, a buckle there, and Prince was primed and ready to go. Julian was seated in a moment. He noted the horse’s impatience and flicking ears.
“Thank the Lord. Go on, then.” He flicked the horse lightly with his heel and they took off.
Julian didn’t care for a whip or a hat. Wind rippled around his crown, tugging at his clothing and hair as they took off. He gave Prince the lead and could feel the stress leaving his shoulders as they sped up. The stables had treated the horse well for he knew this terrain well and moved expertly around the trees and over some low fences.
They ran. Together as one, this morning ride let Julian forget himself. Forget his past. He let go of those who he had lost and those who had lost him, freeing him as much as he could be at a time like this.
He didn’t keep track of the sun. Time continued to pass when he and Prince slowed down, chests heaving and drenched in sweat. It had to have been near two hours by this point.
“Whoa boy,” he said at last. “Let’s slow down, shall we?”
