Page 27 of The Ones Left Behind
“Yes, my lord?” Hornsby’s voice intruded on his self-pity.
“I need to write some letters.”
“Would you like me to send for the steward?”
“No, these I must pen myself. Then I would like to be taken outside again. I cannot bear to be within these walls any longer.”
“The weather and your mood appear to be kindred spirits this day.”
As Hornsby helped him to his desk, Matthias gasped and clenched his jaw in pain. Would this ever get better? It had been two months since he was wounded.
Hornsby did not remark upon it. “Of course, sir. Would you like me to fetch you a book and a blanket?”
“No, just a bottle of brandy.”
“That bad, is it, sir?” Hornsby wrongly assumed all the pain was physical. He did not know the three friends’ history and it was better that way, although doubtless he would have heard some gossip.
“No pity from you,” Matthias commanded brusquely.
“I wouldn’t think of it, Major.”
“You should be whipped for insolence,” Matthias retorted.
“As you have remarked many times, Major.”
Matthias did not return the jibe, feeling somehow comforted by the exchange, and Hornsby quietly left him to write his letters. The brethren had always done their best to maintain contact and he wanted to let them know he was alive and Kitty was also at Thackeray Close.
My Dear brethren,
As you know, I was wounded in the final push at La Haye Saint. I remember very little about the past month of my life, but I have survived the fever and am now praying my bone will heal so that I may walk again. I wish to thank each of you for ensuring I returned home in one piece. I am told it took all of your efforts to make that happen.
I was surprised to find Mrs. Gordon here when I arrived. At present, she is well and attempting to convince me she is suited to the role of housekeeper. That is a battle I do not intend to lose.
There is a little else worthy of pen and paper. Do write when it is convenient.
Pietas et honos
Thackeray
“Ah, Hornsby,”Matthias said, folding his last letter as his batman entered some little while later. “I should like to attempt to walk with my crutch, with you supporting me on the other side.”
“Would it not be wiser to wait for the second crutch?”
“I need to do this, Sergeant.” If they were to return to officer and soldier, so be it.
Hornsby grumbled under his breath, but handed him the crutch. Putting Matthias’s other arm over his shoulder, Hornsby lifted him upright. They hobbled slowly from the house and after much experimentation eventually found a rough rhythm.
The walk to the lake was gruelling, but it was what he needed. Facing the reality of his condition was the first step towards returning to a semblance of life.
He settled into the chair by the lake, his body shaking from the exertion and threatening to cast up his breakfast on to the grass.
“Time heals most wounds, Major. It doesn’t mean they will be like before.”
“Sergeant turned prophet, are we, Hornsby?”
“I have a great many more truisms where that came from,” the sergeant retorted. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of brandy and a bell. “Ring when you are ready... sir.”
He walked away, grumbling under his breath.
