FIC: Roses of Picardy [3/?]
Jun. 3rd, 2012 11:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
splixTitle: Roses of Picardy
Author: Alex
Fandom: War Horse
Rating: Varies, G to NC-17
Pairing: Jamie Stewart/Jim Nicholls
Disclaimer: No money made, no harm intended. Michael Morpurgo owns War Horse and its characters.
Summary: Captured in battle, Major Jamie Stewart faces an uncertain fate.
Warnings: Violence, explicit sexual content.
Notes: Canon divergent [see pairing]
Can also be read on AO3
Oh stay with company and mirth
And daylight and the air;
Too full already is the grave
Of fellows that were good and brave
And died because they were.
---A.E. Houseman, Oh, stay at home, my lad, and plough
*
Had he not already been pinned to the floor, Jamie would have collapsed from shock and a horrifying weakness that suffused and paralysed his limbs. His vision, already unreliable from the lack of light, began to dim, and he could scarcely breathe under the weight of the body atop his. Wild terror and disbelief vied for primacy in his heart, and it was only by dint of extraordinary effort that he held himself perfectly still. Only then did the hand clamped over his mouth loosen, and he heard a shuddering sigh – familiar, blessedly familiar.
“Jamie,” the voice whispered in his ear. “You fight like a tiger, even chained.”
“Jim,” Jamie rasped, still afraid he was delirious.
“Yes.” The weight on Jamie’s chest lessened, and warm fingers framed his face briefly. “It’s Jim.” A figure, still silhouetted against the dim gaslight spilling in from the corridor, rose to its knees. “Dear Jamie.”
“Jim. Oh, good God, good God –“ Jamie’s voice caught in his throat, and for a moment he was very much afraid he would burst into tears. “Jim, how – you fell –“
“I’m fine. Honestly, I am. I can explain it all – Jamie, are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” Anger tinged Jim’s voice, and the figure leant forward to help Jamie sit up.
“No, I’m all right.” Jamie longed to rest his head against Jim’s shoulder and then stiffened with shame. Jim had witnessed at least some of the assault, had seen Jamie’s dignity hurled to the dust. “It’s nothing.”
Two strong arms encircled Jamie in a sudden tight embrace. “I was frightened for you.” Jim let Jamie go and turned to the man on the floor. “He must have keys in here, mustn’t he? Pockets….” He rummaged through the man’s clothes until he produced a satisfying jingle. “Ah! Perfect. Jamie, I hope to God the keys to your restraints are on here. We’ve got to hurry, once we get out of here. Are you strong enough to walk if I can free you?”
“Yes, I think so.” Jamie blinked, and for a moment his vision dimmed again. Once, just once in his life, he’d lost consciousness, when his brother Philip had brained him with a cricket bat. He felt now as he did upon awakening from the blow – a bit hazy and unreal, lacking only the throbbing pain and the goose egg that had sprouted on the back of his head. He swayed a bit, and Jim caught his arm.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.” Jamie screwed his eyes shut and opened them again. Jim’s dark silhouette tantalised him, but the voice was unmistakably his – low and sweet, with a pleasant unexpected catch now and again.
“Good. You’ve been through quite enough today, I think. Now – we’ve got to get you out of these blasted fetters. Wouldn’t be at all cricket to have you clanking and rattling down the corridor like a ghost, would it? One of these must fit. Turn round for me, there’s a good chap.”
Jamie turned obediently, resting his shoulder against the wall. “I thought you were dead,” he said softly, and felt tears choking him once more.
“To be candid, old man, so did I. But that’s a tale for later, I think. Oh – that’s the stuff!” Jim patted Jamie’s back and released one wrist from the cuffs, then another. “Excellent. I don’t imagine the leg irons use the same key. Were they awfully tight?”
“I’ll manage,” Jamie said, and stifled a groan as he brought his hands round and tried to massage life back into them.
“Dash it, which is the right one?” Jim muttered. “Ah, maybe this one. No. Here –“ There was a faint metallic scrape, and a soft cry of delight from Jim. “There! We’ll have you free in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” He fumbled with the lock, then released Jamie’s ankles from the irons and set the chains on the floor. “How are your hands?” He grasped Jamie’s hands in his and rubbed them briskly.
“Getting there,” Jamie said wryly, and closed his eyes to better feel the lovely sensation of Jim’s hands on his.
“Are you sure you’re all right? We’ve got to go now, if you can manage it.”
“I dare say I can.” Jamie tried to get up, and wobbled a bit.
Jim leapt to his feet, pulling Jamie up with him. “Lean on me if you’re not feeling quite the thing.”
He would have – gladly – but Jim had seen him compromised enough for one day. He straightened with an effort. “I’m in fine fettle, Jim. Now how the bloody hell do we get out of here?” He glanced down at the soldier on the floor. “What did you –“
“I stabbed him. God help me, I’ve never done anything like that before and don’t want to again.” Jim’s voice trembled.
“Quite a good aim, though.” Jamie went to the door and looked down the corridor. “Clear.” He looked back at Jim and for the first time saw his face clearly. Stubborn emotion rose again and he did his best to tamp it down, but for a moment he could do no more than stare at Jim’s dear, handsome face. Alive, he’s alive. Thank you, God. Thank you. Jim was dressed in a rough smock-like shirt and woollen trousers, and wore gaiters and clumsy-looking brogues. A week’s worth of beard covered his face. “Jim, good God.”
Jim grinned. “How else was I supposed to steal in here? Do I look a fright?”
“You’re a perfect fright. I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life.”
“Well, it was sheer luck and the grace of God that got me this far. Now we’ve got to get out.” He drew close to Jamie and looked both ways down the corridor. “The officers quarter in the mayor’s house, and some of the enlisted men quarter upstairs. Only the two guards were on duty outside because you’re the only prisoner here. The servants won’t come ‘til morning.”
“What about the other guard?”
“Indisposed,” Jim replied quietly, his face still. “I heard him telling his friend that he was going to get some…well, going to visit a lady, but I have the feeling it wasn’t a welcome visit. Come on, we can get out through the back.”
Jim closed the door of Jamie’s cell, and they stole through the courthouse’s stone corridors until they came to a rear door. Jim opened it and peered out, then nodded to Jamie. “It’s all right.” He placed a hand on Jamie’s arm and guided him out into the still night air, disturbed only by the sounds of crickets and the soft, liquid trill of a night-singing bird. “We’ve got to head north. There’s a Red Cross auxiliary hospital in Langemark, and a French battalion nearby. English are on their way. There’s to be another battle soon, Jamie.”
“How do you know?”
“I heard. Come along.” Jim led Jamie past a hedgerow and into a dark alleyway. “There’s a patrol on the square and the main streets. Pity we can’t travel in a straight line, but there’s nothing for it.”
Jamie stopped, tugging at Jim’s loose sleeve. “Jim, wait.”
“What is it?” Jim turned, his face all but invisible in the starlit darkness.
“The others.”
Jim sighed. “Jamie…I can’t.”
“Jim, we can’t simply leave them behind.”
“We can’t. Jamie, we can’t. That storehouse is under heavy guard.”
Jamie’s face flooded with heat, with passionate, bitter confusion. “There must be something we can do. I shan’t leave them behind, Jim. I couldn’t. Charlie –“
“I know,” Jim whispered. His hand came up to cup the nape of Jamie’s neck, and he rested his forehead against Jamie’s briefly. “I know. I saw.”
“You…you saw?” Sudden shame, as cold and sharp as splintered ice, stabbed its way into Jamie’s chest.
“Yes. I watched. And there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. Nothing. And I saw you as well, Jamie. My God, how brave you are.”
“Brave – Christ almighty, Jim.” Jamie gave a hollow laugh.
“Yes, brave. That was no choice, Jamie, no choice at all. Charlie knew that.”
“Oh, God –“ Jamie sagged against the cool brick of a wall and covered his face with his hands. “Jim, I cannot abandon them. You don’t understand. If we find a place to hide – wait until daylight to reconnoiter –“
“I have reconnoitered. There are at any given time at least ten guardsmen with sidearms, as well as one of those rapid-fire monsters manned by a team of two.”
“But –“
“Think, Jamie, for heaven’s sake! It would be suicide. Two of us against at least ten of them, and the only weapon I’ve got is a damned kitchen knife.” He grasped Jamie’s arms and spoke into his ear. “Listen to me. Listen. They’re my friends too, Jamie. Good God, don’t you think I want to free them? But I can’t. Neither of us can. I can’t pretend to know exactly what’s in that hard head of yours, but I…I saw your face. I fancy I know you well enough to have an inkling of what you felt when they…when he tried to make you choose.”
So he saw that too. “I –“ A hard, dry sob worked its way out of Jamie’s throat. Mortified, he swallowed back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him.
“Oh, Jamie –“ Jim’s arms went round him again and held tight. “I know. I know. But please – I risked my head to get you out tonight. I don’t – what I mean is that I just want you to stay alive. Please. We’ll join up with the lads in the infantry up north and let them know there are prisoners here. They might be able to rescue them. Please, Jamie, please.” Jim’s voice was hoarse. He pulled back and wiped under his eyes. “Besides, with you gone, the immediate threat to them might be lessened.”
Jamie nodded slowly as the truth of Jim’s words sank in. “Yes. You’re…you’re right, of course. I’m a liability to them.”
“You’re not a liability. That’s not what I meant to say at all.”
“But it’s true. No, it is.”
“Jamie –“ Jim rested a placating hand on Jamie’s arm.
“I’m not angry or anything of the sort. It’s only – it’s quite a bitter pill to swallow, that’s all.” He stood straight again. There was no assuaging his conscience, but at least he could do his best not to worsen things. “You’re quite right. We can tell the first British officer we find. And Jim….” Jamie hesitated for a moment. “Thank you for coming after me. I didn’t mean to dismiss your courage. I’m honoured by it. I won’t let you down again, I promise.”
“I’m so glad I found you,” Jim whispered. “I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t. And you couldn’t let me down if you tried.”
Jamie didn’t respond, but he wondered what he’d done to merit Jim’s extraordinary loyalty. He’s alive, he told himself sternly. You’ve got one miracle – that should be more than enough.
*
“There’s a field over there beyond that copse of trees. Corn, grown quite tall – easy enough to hide in.”
“Good. Let’s not waste another moment,” Jamie said. The town’s clock had just struck two.
They set out quietly for the trees, keeping low to the ground, and Jamie grasped Jim’s arm, pointing. There was a small fire in the distance – a patrol, likely. They moved east and heard the sound of male voices carrying in the still night air as they drew closer to the field.
“Think they’ve got bear here?”
“Bear, no. Boar, maybe.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t, really. I wouldn’t say no to a nice plate of roasted boar, though.”
“Why, in God’s name? There’s perfectly nice ham back at quarters.”
“I don’t know. I feel like banging away at something, that’s all.”
Jamie and Jim crept to the edge of the copse. The cornfield was some fifty metres away. They could see the campfire now, and the four soldiers sitting round it, sharing out something from a long-necked bottle. Silently, they began to move toward the field.
They had almost reached it when Jim stepped on a dry branch. The crack was unnaturally loud; as Jamie and Jim dropped to the ground, a voice rang out in the darkness. “Stop! Who goes there?”
“Stupid,” another soldier said. “It’s a fox or something.”
Jamie waited in agonised silence. Surely, surely one of them would come to investigate.
“Or a boar,” another said.
“Maybe a bear,” someone else snickered.
“You going to look?”
“No. Are you?”
“No. Pass that bottle.”
Jamie nodded to Jim, and they began to crawl toward the field. The soldiers round the fire kept joking and laughing, clearly inebriated. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief as they slipped in between the first few tall stalks. The laughing voices of the soldiers were muffled. Jamie turned to Jim. “I think we can stand up now, old man,” he whispered.
“The thing to do now,” Jim whispered, rising slowly to his feet, “is not to get lost in all this.” He waved, rustling a leaf. The stalks were higher than their heads.
“We navigate by the stars, then.”
“Like a couple of old sailors,” Jim replied with a chuckle. “Very well. Lead on, Drake. You’ve got the –“ Jim’s words were suddenly drowned out by the roar of a rifle. Immediately they both dropped to the ground again.
“I heard something!” a voice called. “Over there!”
“Oh, sit down, for God’s sake, before you fall down.”
“I did. Truly.”
Jamie and Jim exchanged a glance, and in unspoken agreement rose and began moving quickly through the stalks.
“There! You hear it?”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“That’s because you’re sitting on your arse.” Another shot echoed through the darkness.
“You scared, Helmut?”
“Well, I’m not going in there by myself.”
“Well, none of us are going in with you either, so you’re out of luck.”
“You’re all a bunch of bastards.” A shot sounded again, and another, and Jamie reeled in shock as Jim gave a low cry and dropped to the ground.
“Jim –“ Jamie knelt and began to feel for a wound. “Jim, what –“
“My leg,” Jim said softly. “Upper thigh. Oh –“
Jamie touched Jim’s leg and felt warm wetness. “Christ, no….” Terrified, he glanced up, half-expecting to see the looming figure of a German soldier standing over them, but he saw only shadows brushing gently against more shadows, and heard the soft, rustling dark of the cornstalks all around them. “God damn it.”
The voices of the soldiers sounded again, further away. “Get back here!” one called. “It’s nothing!”
Jamie closed his eyes, uttered a wordless prayer, and bent to examine Jim’s wounded leg as best he could in the starlight.
“Don’t. Don’t touch it.” Jim grasped Jamie’s hand. “I think I can manage all right.” He started to get up and sank back with a shaking moan.
“Lie still,” Jamie said. “Don’t move, you’ll only make it bleed more.”
Jim shook his head and groped for the front of Jamie’s tunic. “Jamie, listen. There’s another village beyond the field, a hamlet really. The Red Cross auxiliary is in the next town from that.” Pain choked his voice into a tight whisper. “Perhaps they can send someone after me.”
A shocked, disbelieving laugh forced itself from Jamie’s mouth. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You’ll have to.” Jim struggled to rise again, but he only got to his elbows before falling back with another soft, agonised cry. “You must.”
“The hell I will.” He unknotted his tie and whipped it off, wrapping it around Jim’s leg above the wound. God help me. I’ve only the faintest idea how to do this. “Lie still, Jim. I can’t see a deuced thing.”
“Not going anywhere.” Jim’s voice was slurred. “Jamie.”
A trickle of sweat ran down Jamie’s back. His face felt hot and damp, and his hands trembled as they applied the emergency tourniquet. “What?”
“I think I broke it, too. When I fell. Sorry.”
“One thing at a time, old man.” He felt the blood running from Jim’s thigh onto his already slippery hands. Oh, Christ, so much blood.
“It hurts….”
Jamie was forcibly, horribly reminded of the young subaltern on the smoking battlefield. Fear and anxiety gave his voice a harshness he didn’t intend. “It’s just the leg, Jim. You’ll be all right. I don’t want to hear any more nonsense about leaving you behind, is that clear?”
There was a silence, and then a quivering chuckle. “Bossy Knickers, that’s what you are.”
“That’s right. And I outrank you, so button your lip, Captain.” Jamie tightened the tourniquet and wiped his bloody hands on his trousers. “Now…I’m going to help you up. If you can’t manage on one leg, I shall carry you, and I don’t want any back-talk.”
“All right.”
Jamie got up and planted his feet firmly. “Now, you’re going to put all your weight on the good leg. Never mind the other, just let it go limp. And you’re to tell me if you can’t bear it.” He grasped Jim’s hands and carefully pulled him upward. Jim let out a groan between clenched teeth, but at last stood upright.
“All right?” Jamie inquired.
“Yes,” Jim said, and pitched forward.
Jamie caught him before he slumped to the ground, holding him under the arms and trying not to teeter over himself. “Jim? Oh, God, Jim.” Even in starlight, Jim’s face was terribly pale and frighteningly still.
There was nothing for it but to carry him. It would be slow going, but he wouldn’t abandon Jim even if the Germans found them and shot them both. Gritting his teeth, he braced Jim’s body with his own, bent down, and heaved Jim up over his shoulder. His breath gusted out of his chest – Jim was heavier than he’d expected.
No matter. Start moving.
*
The sky had become that peculiar, ineffable shade of blue that only occurred in summer dawnings, cool and serene, but Jamie took no pleasure in it. He needed to find them shelter, and quickly. They weren’t so far away from the garrison town that they were free and clear from any soldiers who might have been ordered to find an escaped prisoner.
Panting, Jamie sank to his knees and lowered Jim to the ground. He’d done his best, but he’d been obliged to stop several times to rest, and each time he found his feet again, Jim seemed heavier than before. He’d remained unconscious, though – better than enduring the pain of his leg, Jamie decided.
Now, though, Jim’s eyes fluttered open. “Jamie,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Jamie could feign bluff heartiness with the best of them. “Sorry for what, old man?” he asked, trying to disguise his panting.
“Burden. To you. Sorry.”
“Oh, rubbish. I reckon it’s good training, carrying around twelve stone of wounded captain. I only wanted to see that you weren’t….” Jamie trailed off. Almost involuntarily, he rested a hand on Jim’s forehead. It was hot and dry. Feverish. Must find a doctor, and quickly.
“I’m all right. I think I can walk for a bit.”
“And I think you can’t. Enough chattering, we’ve got to get a move on.” Already he regretted stopping. It would be more difficult to lift Jim, mindful of his pain, and every one of Jamie’s limbs trembled with fatigue.
“This wasn’t the sort of rescue I’d planned.” A weary smile curled the corners of Jim’s mouth upward.
“Well, I’m…glad to return the favour.” Jamie felt a real smile tugging at his own mouth. “Right, time to go. There’s a farmhouse just over the next rise – I’m going to get us to the barn, and then we’ll decide what to do from there.” Last bit for now, he told himself, and heaved his aching, weary body into a crouch. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Jim said. “It doesn’t sting as badly now.” He smiled again, but his glazed pale-blue eyes belied the casual dismissal. He let out a hissing sound as Jamie hauled him up again, and then emitted the smallest of whimpers.
“God, I’m so sorry –“
“No. Don’t mind me. Keep going, Jamie. We haven’t got far to go now.”
Jamie would have liked to have kept up a steady stream of chatter to distract Jim, but he didn’t have the energy to carry his friend and talk at the same time. He staggered the last length to the farm and headed for the barn. “We’ll rest in here a bit, old man.” The door was slightly ajar; he pushed it open and froze at the sight of an old man carrying a sloshing pail of milk toward him.
The old man started, and then stood his ground. He barked something in a language Jamie didn’t understand.
Flemish Jamie thought despondently. Bloody hell. Nonplussed, he tried his poor German, hoping there were enough similarities in the two languages for the man to comprehend him, if the sight of Jim’s dreadful state wasn’t enough to convey their distress. “Bitte…bitte…mein freund…verwundet.”
The man drew closer and examined Jamie’s uniform. “Engels?”
Jamie nodded eagerly. “Ja.” Without asking permission, he carried Jim to the baled hay stacked neatly against one wall and settled him as carefully as he could. Jim had slipped back into a sludgy semi-consciousness, and gave a feeble groan as Jamie arranged his limbs on the hay. “Mein freund,” he said, unable for the life of him to think of the word for ‘doctor’ – “Verwundet. Bitte.”
The man answered in a steady stream of unintelligible words that ended in the miraculous “dokter.”
“Yes, yes,” Jamie said, nearly weeping with exhaustion and gratitude. “Doctor, please. I beg you.”
The old man patted his shoulder, gestured toward the bale of hay, held up one finger, and trudged out of the barn, closing the door behind him.
Jamie stared at the closed door, then gazed in bemusement at the lowing cow in a nearby stall. I hope to Christ he’s actually going to get a doctor and I haven’t walked us into a trap. For a moment, fear clenched his insides and he contemplated picking Jim up again and getting out, but where would they go? If one citizen was willing to betray them, why not others?
No – he wouldn’t risk moving in open daylight, nor would he risk further injury to Jim. If they were meant to make their last stand in a Flemish barn surrounded by cows, then on his head be it. He hadn’t much choice now.
He stepped close to Jim and knelt beside him, examining the wounded leg as best he could. There wasn’t much blood loss, after he’d applied the makeshift tourniquet – he hoped he hadn’t stanched the flow so much there was danger of the flesh dying. He loosened the tie a bit and winced as Jim groaned from the depths of his unconsciousness. “Jim…it’s all right. The farmer’s going to fetch a doctor, I think. I hope, at any rate.” He glanced around, realising how unbearably thirsty he suddenly was, and that Jim likely needed water as well. There must be a pump outside.
It was still dark enough to conceal his actions. Jamie took a clean pail from a shelf, stole outside, and found the water pump quickly enough. He drank some straight from the pump, grateful for the bright trickling that slaked his parched throat, and collected some in the pail. He went back to the barn, conscious of growing daylight, and hurried to Jim’s side once more.
How still he was, how terrifyingly white. The scrub of beard on his face made him seem older than his twenty-four years, and his cheeks looked sunken, as if he hadn’t eaten properly since the battle. Probably hadn’t, Jamie thought regretfully. Poor devil. He tipped some water into his hand and poured an infinitesimal amount carefully between Jim’s parted lips.
What must it have cost him to know his comrades had been either killed or captured, to watch them slaughtered, and to yet scrape up the courage to rescue his commanding officer? What Jamie truly knew about Captain James Nicholls would have filled a very slim volume indeed: he knew that his father was a moderately successful manufacturer of bathtubs and extraordinarily stingy with an allowance, that he expected Jim to follow him into the trade and that Jim had no desire to do so, hence the parsimony, that his mother was half-Irish and a Catholic and that Jim had gone to a Catholic boys’ school as a child where the brothers had taught him to ride and handle horses, that he had one sister named Pauline, nick-named Pansy, aged sixteen and anxious to come out into society.
Those were the facts; what remained was simply the distillation of the time they had spent together – that Jim was honest and good-humored in most situations, that he was unfailingly courteous and far more gentle in manner than most men of Jamie’s class, that he was a superior officer, calm and confident, and that Jamie admired him more than any man he’d ever met. Had, in point of fact, admired him until his heart ached and it strained the outermost reaches of Jamie’s ability to maintain a cool, friendly distance – not always easy given Jim’s frank sweetness. Now he wished he’d been more demonstrative, that Jim knew how great was Jamie’s esteem for him.
Tentatively, Jamie touched Jim’s cheek, and then gave in to impulse and kissed it with the utmost gentleness. Wiping the moisture from beneath his eyes, he crawled onto the bale of hay next to Jim and fell into a weary sleep.
*
The sound of voices jolted him from slumber. He sat up, utterly bewildered, and saw Jim sitting up as well, and a small man in a rusty-looking black suit sitting beside him.
“There you are, slugabed,” Jim said with a merry, if strained, smile.
“What’s happening?”
“Well, Dr. Mandelbaum here is doing what he can to patch up my leg.” Jim indicated the small man with a gesture. “Dr. Mandelbaum, may I introduce my commanding officer, Major James Stewart?”
The small man nodded at him. “Major, a pleasure.” His English was heavily accented, but perfectly understandable. “You will forgive me for not shaking your hand,” he said, holding up blood-stained fingers that clasped a needle.
“Delighted,” Jamie said, rising to a sitting position. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and saw that Jim was sitting atop a white sheet and that his trousers had been removed. His modesty was preserved by the length of the rustic smock he wore. Jamie forced himself to meet Jim’s eyes and not gaze at his long and quite handsome legs. “Have you got enough light to see?”
“This is only the most…how do you say it, the most rudimentary surgery,” Dr. Mandelbaum said.
“A bit of bad news, Jamie,” Jim said softly.
Jamie’s heart sank. “What is it?”
“The bullet has hit the bone, and I fear there remain shards inside the leg,” the doctor replied. “The wound now requires closer attention, but if we were to transport him to my surgery, the patrols would surely see and suspect.”
“Patrols!”
“Yes,” Jim sighed. “I’m afraid so, old man.” He reached over and pressed Jamie’s hand. “Dr. Mandelbaum has very kindly dispatched a brave young lady to go to Langemark to beg for an ambulance. The Red Cross, you know, has –“
“Yes,” Jamie murmured. “But, Doctor – the leg. Isn’t an operation rather urgent? Isn’t there a risk of infection?”
The doctor nodded sadly. “It is, but I have cleaned the wound as best I can. If your friend was caught, Major, he would be shot immediately. The soldiers have not been so very kind to us.”
Jamie turned to Jim. “How are you getting on?”
“I feel better,” Jim replied stoutly. “Dr. Mandelbaum gave me some perfectly marvelous pills – opium, yes, Doctor?”
Dr. Mandelbaum smiled. “Close enough, Captain. Some Bayer as well.”
“And Mrs. Joos, the dear woman in the farmhouse, brought me some breakfast. She left some for you, too, but you were sleeping so soundly I didn’t dare wake you.” Jim pointed. “It’s over there. You must be famished.”
Jamie tried to cudgel his brains into a sensible reply. “How long until the ambulance arrives?”
“I cannot say,” Dr. Mandelbaum said. “There has been no nearby battle, so if God is good, possibly eight or ten hours – that is, if there are no delays.”
“Ten hours!” Jamie rose on shaking legs. Hunger, fatigue, fear? It mattered little now – what mattered was quick and decisive action. “We haven’t that much time. There must be a way to convey him to your surgery. A cart, perhaps, where he can be concealed.”
“Major, the patrols are out. They are suspicious. They suspect us of hoarding food better meant for their own bellies, they suspect us of smuggling produce to your soldiers – my own daughter was nearly speared at the end of their bayonets for the audacious crime of carrying a covered basket of apples. If you, or your friend were to be caught, I could not live with myself for allowing it. Please – patience. If Captain Nicholls stays quiet and still, he will not further inflame the wound. We will hope and pray.”
Jamie sank back onto the bale of hay. “Hope and pray and stay trapped and helpless.”
“I don’t want to endanger anyone else, Jamie,” Jim said quietly. “If Dr. Mandelbaum was suspected of helping us, then he too would be subject to reprisals.”
Chastened, Jamie nodded his head and pressed his hands to his eyes. “Yes. Yes, I realise that. I’m sorry, Doctor. Please forgive me.”
Dr. Mandelbaum waved the hand not holding the needle. “I understand your anxiety, Major. And your steadfast devotion to your friend is most excellent. ‘A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter; he who finds one finds a treasure.’ I promise you this: if the ambulance is not here by tomorrow morning, I will do everything in my power to help you. I swear it.”
“You’re most kind,” Jamie said.
Dr. Mandelbaum wiped his hands on a corner of the sheet. “I have done what I can. Here are two more of the wondrous pills Captain Nicholls found so restful. You will please see that he takes them with food in ten hours. I will return tomorrow morning; I hope by then you will be gone. Stay still, Captain.” He stood and nodded at Jamie once more. “I wish you good day, Major.” He gave a brief bow and made his way silently from the barn.
Some distance away, the sound of church bells floated into the barn.
“Sunday morning,” Jim commented. “Hasn’t even been a week since…Jamie, please eat something.”
Jamie turned to Jim. “How are you feeling? And be honest, Jim. Please.”
“I’ve felt better, I don’t mind telling you. But the pills help a bit. I’m feeling a bit sleepy again, in fact. Grab hold of that breakfast and come keep me company before the cow breaks out of her pen and eats it on you. I was staring her in the eye when the doctor was patching me up and I think she has designs on those lovely seed-cakes.”
Jamie took a wooden tray bearing a plate of food, a glass of milk, and a napkin, and brought it back to the bales of hay. Looking at it, he realised he was famished. He sat and began eating with intense appetite, savouring every bite of the rosy ham, the slices of creamy white cheese, the seed-cake drizzled with honey.
“Good man,” Jim said. “Like as not I’m going to sound like your mother, but it’s lovely to see you eat.”
Jamie mustered a faint grin. “Mother hasn’t much regard for food. Ask her about the latest fashions, though, and she’s a whirlwind of enthusiasm. Are you up to telling me how you managed to escape, avoid the attention of the Germans, and effect a rescue?”
“It wasn’t due to my cleverness, I can tell you that. I was overlooked – that’s the long and short of it.” Jim shook his head. “Another horse collided with poor Joey in the melee and I fell. Must have hit my head, because when I awoke the battle was over, I was face-down in the dirt, and Joey was gone. Poor Albert. I don’t suppose he’ll ever see his horse again, and he did love him so.”
“Didn’t the Germans find you?”
“I had fallen into a clump of bushes – blasted prickly things – and I reckon I was still and quiet enough not to attract attention. When I finally crawled out of the brambles, the last of the soldiers were marching toward the garrison town. They’d left the carnage behind. It was….” Jim shook his head. “Well, you saw. You must have seen.”
“Yes,” Jamie said.
“At any rate, I followed at a distance. Wasn’t far to go, and I found my way to someone’s storage shed and bunked down until nightfall. Then I stole some clothes from a laundry line – not very kind of me, but I was desperate, Jamie – and mussed my hair and skulked around until I discovered what had become of the surviving lads – and of you. My German’s terrible, but I got the gist of it. I was frantic with worry.”
“But the risk, Jim! My God, you could have been captured yourself.”
“I almost was.” Jim offered a wan smile. “A patrol stopped me just after dawn, but I affected to be deaf and dumb. I couldn’t believe it worked. They treated me like the dirt under their feet after that, and I found my way around with little difficulty after that. Well, and after I paid the town baker five guineas to pretend I was his assistant.”
Jamie wiped his mouth on the rough, but clean linen towel that had been laid under the plate of food. “You’d make a marvelous spy, old man.”
“I doubt it. My heart was in my throat the entire time. I waited after that – for an opportunity, any chance to find you. Last night they left the service door unlocked, and I walked in quite boldly. People don’t look at servants much, you know.” He shook his head. His eyes seemed to lose their focus.
“Jim?”
“Hm? It’s nothing. At any rate, I watched that…catastrophe…yesterday. Jamie –“ Jim’s hand rested on Jamie’s leg. “You mustn’t blame yourself.”
Jamie set his tray aside. He glanced around at the immaculately kept interior of the barn, then at the weave of the linen sheet Jim sat on, noting the warp and weft of the threads where blood had stained it red. He looked at his hands, bruised and stiff with dried blood. Jim’s blood. Why hadn’t he washed them at the pump? Finally he met Jim’s eyes. “How not, Jim?” His heart ached so badly. “How not?”
Jim’s mouth curved upward. He rubbed Jamie’s thigh affectionately. “Dear Jamie.” His voice was slurring once more. “It’s not our war any longer. Horses against that terrible machinery. It’s a nightmare. Dreadful. We need modern munitions.” He yawned. “Seems clear in retrospect, but then…everything does, doesn’t it?”
The light pressure of Jim’s hand burned Jamie’s thigh; despite the arduous nature of their plight, he reveled in the touch, far too precious to abandon. “I’ve exhausted you, forcing you to talk. Sleep a while.”
“Dear, dear Jamie.” Jim sighed and lay down. The farmer had thoughtfully provided a quilt and a pillow, and Jamie arranged the pillow beneath Jim’s head and covered him with the quilt. Jim reached up and caught Jamie’s hand. “Will you stay with me while I sleep?”
“Of course, Jim. After all, where else would I go?”
A crooked, drowsy smile flitted across Jim’s face. “You’re such a wit, old man.”
“Hush.” Jamie couldn’t resist smoothing Jim’s tousled, dirty curls back from his forehead. “Sleep now.”
The model of obedience, Jim closed his eyes. “Stay,” he whispered.
Jamie caressed Jim’s face and resisted the urge to kiss his mouth. “I’m not leaving you.”
*
His vigil lasted all day and into the night. After a sound slumber, Jim fretted in a state of semi-consciousness, muttering and groaning and alarming Jamie no end. Jamie watched him anxiously, testing the hot, dry skin of his forehead, giving him water and the soup Mrs. Joos brought out to them, and finally the two pills Dr. Mandelbaum had left behind. He was profoundly grateful when Jim fell into a deeper sleep. Night fell, and with it came a thunderstorm, sweeping the barn with rain and the delicious smell of water, but Jamie couldn’t appreciate it; he watched Jim without cease, fearing that any moment would be a decided turning of Jim’s footsteps on a path toward eternity. Jim’s respiration had begun to rattle in and out of his chest, his fever grew higher, and he cried out in his sleep, striking out with his hands, battling some invisible enemy.
Jamie considered trying to wake him – would it be better to be conscious and in pain, or unconscious and terrified? – when there was a light tap on the barn door. Thinking it was Mr. Joos, the farmer, Jim went cautiously to the door and recoiled at the sight of two unfamiliar faces, both male. Terrified, he scrabbled for the scythe he had lifted from the wall hours before, but a voice gave him pause – a voice that was soft and warm, and French-accented.
“Are you Major Stewart?”
Jamie held the scythe. “Who’s asking?”
“Hilaire DuPlessis and Henri Beauchamp – Red Cross.”
“Oh, thank God.” Jamie grasped the door to keep himself upright. “Thank God.”
*
TBC.....
Author: Alex
Fandom: War Horse
Rating: Varies, G to NC-17
Pairing: Jamie Stewart/Jim Nicholls
Disclaimer: No money made, no harm intended. Michael Morpurgo owns War Horse and its characters.
Summary: Captured in battle, Major Jamie Stewart faces an uncertain fate.
Warnings: Violence, explicit sexual content.
Notes: Canon divergent [see pairing]
Can also be read on AO3
Oh stay with company and mirth
And daylight and the air;
Too full already is the grave
Of fellows that were good and brave
And died because they were.
---A.E. Houseman, Oh, stay at home, my lad, and plough
*
Had he not already been pinned to the floor, Jamie would have collapsed from shock and a horrifying weakness that suffused and paralysed his limbs. His vision, already unreliable from the lack of light, began to dim, and he could scarcely breathe under the weight of the body atop his. Wild terror and disbelief vied for primacy in his heart, and it was only by dint of extraordinary effort that he held himself perfectly still. Only then did the hand clamped over his mouth loosen, and he heard a shuddering sigh – familiar, blessedly familiar.
“Jamie,” the voice whispered in his ear. “You fight like a tiger, even chained.”
“Jim,” Jamie rasped, still afraid he was delirious.
“Yes.” The weight on Jamie’s chest lessened, and warm fingers framed his face briefly. “It’s Jim.” A figure, still silhouetted against the dim gaslight spilling in from the corridor, rose to its knees. “Dear Jamie.”
“Jim. Oh, good God, good God –“ Jamie’s voice caught in his throat, and for a moment he was very much afraid he would burst into tears. “Jim, how – you fell –“
“I’m fine. Honestly, I am. I can explain it all – Jamie, are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” Anger tinged Jim’s voice, and the figure leant forward to help Jamie sit up.
“No, I’m all right.” Jamie longed to rest his head against Jim’s shoulder and then stiffened with shame. Jim had witnessed at least some of the assault, had seen Jamie’s dignity hurled to the dust. “It’s nothing.”
Two strong arms encircled Jamie in a sudden tight embrace. “I was frightened for you.” Jim let Jamie go and turned to the man on the floor. “He must have keys in here, mustn’t he? Pockets….” He rummaged through the man’s clothes until he produced a satisfying jingle. “Ah! Perfect. Jamie, I hope to God the keys to your restraints are on here. We’ve got to hurry, once we get out of here. Are you strong enough to walk if I can free you?”
“Yes, I think so.” Jamie blinked, and for a moment his vision dimmed again. Once, just once in his life, he’d lost consciousness, when his brother Philip had brained him with a cricket bat. He felt now as he did upon awakening from the blow – a bit hazy and unreal, lacking only the throbbing pain and the goose egg that had sprouted on the back of his head. He swayed a bit, and Jim caught his arm.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.” Jamie screwed his eyes shut and opened them again. Jim’s dark silhouette tantalised him, but the voice was unmistakably his – low and sweet, with a pleasant unexpected catch now and again.
“Good. You’ve been through quite enough today, I think. Now – we’ve got to get you out of these blasted fetters. Wouldn’t be at all cricket to have you clanking and rattling down the corridor like a ghost, would it? One of these must fit. Turn round for me, there’s a good chap.”
Jamie turned obediently, resting his shoulder against the wall. “I thought you were dead,” he said softly, and felt tears choking him once more.
“To be candid, old man, so did I. But that’s a tale for later, I think. Oh – that’s the stuff!” Jim patted Jamie’s back and released one wrist from the cuffs, then another. “Excellent. I don’t imagine the leg irons use the same key. Were they awfully tight?”
“I’ll manage,” Jamie said, and stifled a groan as he brought his hands round and tried to massage life back into them.
“Dash it, which is the right one?” Jim muttered. “Ah, maybe this one. No. Here –“ There was a faint metallic scrape, and a soft cry of delight from Jim. “There! We’ll have you free in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” He fumbled with the lock, then released Jamie’s ankles from the irons and set the chains on the floor. “How are your hands?” He grasped Jamie’s hands in his and rubbed them briskly.
“Getting there,” Jamie said wryly, and closed his eyes to better feel the lovely sensation of Jim’s hands on his.
“Are you sure you’re all right? We’ve got to go now, if you can manage it.”
“I dare say I can.” Jamie tried to get up, and wobbled a bit.
Jim leapt to his feet, pulling Jamie up with him. “Lean on me if you’re not feeling quite the thing.”
He would have – gladly – but Jim had seen him compromised enough for one day. He straightened with an effort. “I’m in fine fettle, Jim. Now how the bloody hell do we get out of here?” He glanced down at the soldier on the floor. “What did you –“
“I stabbed him. God help me, I’ve never done anything like that before and don’t want to again.” Jim’s voice trembled.
“Quite a good aim, though.” Jamie went to the door and looked down the corridor. “Clear.” He looked back at Jim and for the first time saw his face clearly. Stubborn emotion rose again and he did his best to tamp it down, but for a moment he could do no more than stare at Jim’s dear, handsome face. Alive, he’s alive. Thank you, God. Thank you. Jim was dressed in a rough smock-like shirt and woollen trousers, and wore gaiters and clumsy-looking brogues. A week’s worth of beard covered his face. “Jim, good God.”
Jim grinned. “How else was I supposed to steal in here? Do I look a fright?”
“You’re a perfect fright. I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life.”
“Well, it was sheer luck and the grace of God that got me this far. Now we’ve got to get out.” He drew close to Jamie and looked both ways down the corridor. “The officers quarter in the mayor’s house, and some of the enlisted men quarter upstairs. Only the two guards were on duty outside because you’re the only prisoner here. The servants won’t come ‘til morning.”
“What about the other guard?”
“Indisposed,” Jim replied quietly, his face still. “I heard him telling his friend that he was going to get some…well, going to visit a lady, but I have the feeling it wasn’t a welcome visit. Come on, we can get out through the back.”
Jim closed the door of Jamie’s cell, and they stole through the courthouse’s stone corridors until they came to a rear door. Jim opened it and peered out, then nodded to Jamie. “It’s all right.” He placed a hand on Jamie’s arm and guided him out into the still night air, disturbed only by the sounds of crickets and the soft, liquid trill of a night-singing bird. “We’ve got to head north. There’s a Red Cross auxiliary hospital in Langemark, and a French battalion nearby. English are on their way. There’s to be another battle soon, Jamie.”
“How do you know?”
“I heard. Come along.” Jim led Jamie past a hedgerow and into a dark alleyway. “There’s a patrol on the square and the main streets. Pity we can’t travel in a straight line, but there’s nothing for it.”
Jamie stopped, tugging at Jim’s loose sleeve. “Jim, wait.”
“What is it?” Jim turned, his face all but invisible in the starlit darkness.
“The others.”
Jim sighed. “Jamie…I can’t.”
“Jim, we can’t simply leave them behind.”
“We can’t. Jamie, we can’t. That storehouse is under heavy guard.”
Jamie’s face flooded with heat, with passionate, bitter confusion. “There must be something we can do. I shan’t leave them behind, Jim. I couldn’t. Charlie –“
“I know,” Jim whispered. His hand came up to cup the nape of Jamie’s neck, and he rested his forehead against Jamie’s briefly. “I know. I saw.”
“You…you saw?” Sudden shame, as cold and sharp as splintered ice, stabbed its way into Jamie’s chest.
“Yes. I watched. And there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. Nothing. And I saw you as well, Jamie. My God, how brave you are.”
“Brave – Christ almighty, Jim.” Jamie gave a hollow laugh.
“Yes, brave. That was no choice, Jamie, no choice at all. Charlie knew that.”
“Oh, God –“ Jamie sagged against the cool brick of a wall and covered his face with his hands. “Jim, I cannot abandon them. You don’t understand. If we find a place to hide – wait until daylight to reconnoiter –“
“I have reconnoitered. There are at any given time at least ten guardsmen with sidearms, as well as one of those rapid-fire monsters manned by a team of two.”
“But –“
“Think, Jamie, for heaven’s sake! It would be suicide. Two of us against at least ten of them, and the only weapon I’ve got is a damned kitchen knife.” He grasped Jamie’s arms and spoke into his ear. “Listen to me. Listen. They’re my friends too, Jamie. Good God, don’t you think I want to free them? But I can’t. Neither of us can. I can’t pretend to know exactly what’s in that hard head of yours, but I…I saw your face. I fancy I know you well enough to have an inkling of what you felt when they…when he tried to make you choose.”
So he saw that too. “I –“ A hard, dry sob worked its way out of Jamie’s throat. Mortified, he swallowed back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him.
“Oh, Jamie –“ Jim’s arms went round him again and held tight. “I know. I know. But please – I risked my head to get you out tonight. I don’t – what I mean is that I just want you to stay alive. Please. We’ll join up with the lads in the infantry up north and let them know there are prisoners here. They might be able to rescue them. Please, Jamie, please.” Jim’s voice was hoarse. He pulled back and wiped under his eyes. “Besides, with you gone, the immediate threat to them might be lessened.”
Jamie nodded slowly as the truth of Jim’s words sank in. “Yes. You’re…you’re right, of course. I’m a liability to them.”
“You’re not a liability. That’s not what I meant to say at all.”
“But it’s true. No, it is.”
“Jamie –“ Jim rested a placating hand on Jamie’s arm.
“I’m not angry or anything of the sort. It’s only – it’s quite a bitter pill to swallow, that’s all.” He stood straight again. There was no assuaging his conscience, but at least he could do his best not to worsen things. “You’re quite right. We can tell the first British officer we find. And Jim….” Jamie hesitated for a moment. “Thank you for coming after me. I didn’t mean to dismiss your courage. I’m honoured by it. I won’t let you down again, I promise.”
“I’m so glad I found you,” Jim whispered. “I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t. And you couldn’t let me down if you tried.”
Jamie didn’t respond, but he wondered what he’d done to merit Jim’s extraordinary loyalty. He’s alive, he told himself sternly. You’ve got one miracle – that should be more than enough.
*
“There’s a field over there beyond that copse of trees. Corn, grown quite tall – easy enough to hide in.”
“Good. Let’s not waste another moment,” Jamie said. The town’s clock had just struck two.
They set out quietly for the trees, keeping low to the ground, and Jamie grasped Jim’s arm, pointing. There was a small fire in the distance – a patrol, likely. They moved east and heard the sound of male voices carrying in the still night air as they drew closer to the field.
“Think they’ve got bear here?”
“Bear, no. Boar, maybe.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t, really. I wouldn’t say no to a nice plate of roasted boar, though.”
“Why, in God’s name? There’s perfectly nice ham back at quarters.”
“I don’t know. I feel like banging away at something, that’s all.”
Jamie and Jim crept to the edge of the copse. The cornfield was some fifty metres away. They could see the campfire now, and the four soldiers sitting round it, sharing out something from a long-necked bottle. Silently, they began to move toward the field.
They had almost reached it when Jim stepped on a dry branch. The crack was unnaturally loud; as Jamie and Jim dropped to the ground, a voice rang out in the darkness. “Stop! Who goes there?”
“Stupid,” another soldier said. “It’s a fox or something.”
Jamie waited in agonised silence. Surely, surely one of them would come to investigate.
“Or a boar,” another said.
“Maybe a bear,” someone else snickered.
“You going to look?”
“No. Are you?”
“No. Pass that bottle.”
Jamie nodded to Jim, and they began to crawl toward the field. The soldiers round the fire kept joking and laughing, clearly inebriated. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief as they slipped in between the first few tall stalks. The laughing voices of the soldiers were muffled. Jamie turned to Jim. “I think we can stand up now, old man,” he whispered.
“The thing to do now,” Jim whispered, rising slowly to his feet, “is not to get lost in all this.” He waved, rustling a leaf. The stalks were higher than their heads.
“We navigate by the stars, then.”
“Like a couple of old sailors,” Jim replied with a chuckle. “Very well. Lead on, Drake. You’ve got the –“ Jim’s words were suddenly drowned out by the roar of a rifle. Immediately they both dropped to the ground again.
“I heard something!” a voice called. “Over there!”
“Oh, sit down, for God’s sake, before you fall down.”
“I did. Truly.”
Jamie and Jim exchanged a glance, and in unspoken agreement rose and began moving quickly through the stalks.
“There! You hear it?”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“That’s because you’re sitting on your arse.” Another shot echoed through the darkness.
“You scared, Helmut?”
“Well, I’m not going in there by myself.”
“Well, none of us are going in with you either, so you’re out of luck.”
“You’re all a bunch of bastards.” A shot sounded again, and another, and Jamie reeled in shock as Jim gave a low cry and dropped to the ground.
“Jim –“ Jamie knelt and began to feel for a wound. “Jim, what –“
“My leg,” Jim said softly. “Upper thigh. Oh –“
Jamie touched Jim’s leg and felt warm wetness. “Christ, no….” Terrified, he glanced up, half-expecting to see the looming figure of a German soldier standing over them, but he saw only shadows brushing gently against more shadows, and heard the soft, rustling dark of the cornstalks all around them. “God damn it.”
The voices of the soldiers sounded again, further away. “Get back here!” one called. “It’s nothing!”
Jamie closed his eyes, uttered a wordless prayer, and bent to examine Jim’s wounded leg as best he could in the starlight.
“Don’t. Don’t touch it.” Jim grasped Jamie’s hand. “I think I can manage all right.” He started to get up and sank back with a shaking moan.
“Lie still,” Jamie said. “Don’t move, you’ll only make it bleed more.”
Jim shook his head and groped for the front of Jamie’s tunic. “Jamie, listen. There’s another village beyond the field, a hamlet really. The Red Cross auxiliary is in the next town from that.” Pain choked his voice into a tight whisper. “Perhaps they can send someone after me.”
A shocked, disbelieving laugh forced itself from Jamie’s mouth. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You’ll have to.” Jim struggled to rise again, but he only got to his elbows before falling back with another soft, agonised cry. “You must.”
“The hell I will.” He unknotted his tie and whipped it off, wrapping it around Jim’s leg above the wound. God help me. I’ve only the faintest idea how to do this. “Lie still, Jim. I can’t see a deuced thing.”
“Not going anywhere.” Jim’s voice was slurred. “Jamie.”
A trickle of sweat ran down Jamie’s back. His face felt hot and damp, and his hands trembled as they applied the emergency tourniquet. “What?”
“I think I broke it, too. When I fell. Sorry.”
“One thing at a time, old man.” He felt the blood running from Jim’s thigh onto his already slippery hands. Oh, Christ, so much blood.
“It hurts….”
Jamie was forcibly, horribly reminded of the young subaltern on the smoking battlefield. Fear and anxiety gave his voice a harshness he didn’t intend. “It’s just the leg, Jim. You’ll be all right. I don’t want to hear any more nonsense about leaving you behind, is that clear?”
There was a silence, and then a quivering chuckle. “Bossy Knickers, that’s what you are.”
“That’s right. And I outrank you, so button your lip, Captain.” Jamie tightened the tourniquet and wiped his bloody hands on his trousers. “Now…I’m going to help you up. If you can’t manage on one leg, I shall carry you, and I don’t want any back-talk.”
“All right.”
Jamie got up and planted his feet firmly. “Now, you’re going to put all your weight on the good leg. Never mind the other, just let it go limp. And you’re to tell me if you can’t bear it.” He grasped Jim’s hands and carefully pulled him upward. Jim let out a groan between clenched teeth, but at last stood upright.
“All right?” Jamie inquired.
“Yes,” Jim said, and pitched forward.
Jamie caught him before he slumped to the ground, holding him under the arms and trying not to teeter over himself. “Jim? Oh, God, Jim.” Even in starlight, Jim’s face was terribly pale and frighteningly still.
There was nothing for it but to carry him. It would be slow going, but he wouldn’t abandon Jim even if the Germans found them and shot them both. Gritting his teeth, he braced Jim’s body with his own, bent down, and heaved Jim up over his shoulder. His breath gusted out of his chest – Jim was heavier than he’d expected.
No matter. Start moving.
*
The sky had become that peculiar, ineffable shade of blue that only occurred in summer dawnings, cool and serene, but Jamie took no pleasure in it. He needed to find them shelter, and quickly. They weren’t so far away from the garrison town that they were free and clear from any soldiers who might have been ordered to find an escaped prisoner.
Panting, Jamie sank to his knees and lowered Jim to the ground. He’d done his best, but he’d been obliged to stop several times to rest, and each time he found his feet again, Jim seemed heavier than before. He’d remained unconscious, though – better than enduring the pain of his leg, Jamie decided.
Now, though, Jim’s eyes fluttered open. “Jamie,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Jamie could feign bluff heartiness with the best of them. “Sorry for what, old man?” he asked, trying to disguise his panting.
“Burden. To you. Sorry.”
“Oh, rubbish. I reckon it’s good training, carrying around twelve stone of wounded captain. I only wanted to see that you weren’t….” Jamie trailed off. Almost involuntarily, he rested a hand on Jim’s forehead. It was hot and dry. Feverish. Must find a doctor, and quickly.
“I’m all right. I think I can walk for a bit.”
“And I think you can’t. Enough chattering, we’ve got to get a move on.” Already he regretted stopping. It would be more difficult to lift Jim, mindful of his pain, and every one of Jamie’s limbs trembled with fatigue.
“This wasn’t the sort of rescue I’d planned.” A weary smile curled the corners of Jim’s mouth upward.
“Well, I’m…glad to return the favour.” Jamie felt a real smile tugging at his own mouth. “Right, time to go. There’s a farmhouse just over the next rise – I’m going to get us to the barn, and then we’ll decide what to do from there.” Last bit for now, he told himself, and heaved his aching, weary body into a crouch. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Jim said. “It doesn’t sting as badly now.” He smiled again, but his glazed pale-blue eyes belied the casual dismissal. He let out a hissing sound as Jamie hauled him up again, and then emitted the smallest of whimpers.
“God, I’m so sorry –“
“No. Don’t mind me. Keep going, Jamie. We haven’t got far to go now.”
Jamie would have liked to have kept up a steady stream of chatter to distract Jim, but he didn’t have the energy to carry his friend and talk at the same time. He staggered the last length to the farm and headed for the barn. “We’ll rest in here a bit, old man.” The door was slightly ajar; he pushed it open and froze at the sight of an old man carrying a sloshing pail of milk toward him.
The old man started, and then stood his ground. He barked something in a language Jamie didn’t understand.
Flemish Jamie thought despondently. Bloody hell. Nonplussed, he tried his poor German, hoping there were enough similarities in the two languages for the man to comprehend him, if the sight of Jim’s dreadful state wasn’t enough to convey their distress. “Bitte…bitte…mein freund…verwundet.”
The man drew closer and examined Jamie’s uniform. “Engels?”
Jamie nodded eagerly. “Ja.” Without asking permission, he carried Jim to the baled hay stacked neatly against one wall and settled him as carefully as he could. Jim had slipped back into a sludgy semi-consciousness, and gave a feeble groan as Jamie arranged his limbs on the hay. “Mein freund,” he said, unable for the life of him to think of the word for ‘doctor’ – “Verwundet. Bitte.”
The man answered in a steady stream of unintelligible words that ended in the miraculous “dokter.”
“Yes, yes,” Jamie said, nearly weeping with exhaustion and gratitude. “Doctor, please. I beg you.”
The old man patted his shoulder, gestured toward the bale of hay, held up one finger, and trudged out of the barn, closing the door behind him.
Jamie stared at the closed door, then gazed in bemusement at the lowing cow in a nearby stall. I hope to Christ he’s actually going to get a doctor and I haven’t walked us into a trap. For a moment, fear clenched his insides and he contemplated picking Jim up again and getting out, but where would they go? If one citizen was willing to betray them, why not others?
No – he wouldn’t risk moving in open daylight, nor would he risk further injury to Jim. If they were meant to make their last stand in a Flemish barn surrounded by cows, then on his head be it. He hadn’t much choice now.
He stepped close to Jim and knelt beside him, examining the wounded leg as best he could. There wasn’t much blood loss, after he’d applied the makeshift tourniquet – he hoped he hadn’t stanched the flow so much there was danger of the flesh dying. He loosened the tie a bit and winced as Jim groaned from the depths of his unconsciousness. “Jim…it’s all right. The farmer’s going to fetch a doctor, I think. I hope, at any rate.” He glanced around, realising how unbearably thirsty he suddenly was, and that Jim likely needed water as well. There must be a pump outside.
It was still dark enough to conceal his actions. Jamie took a clean pail from a shelf, stole outside, and found the water pump quickly enough. He drank some straight from the pump, grateful for the bright trickling that slaked his parched throat, and collected some in the pail. He went back to the barn, conscious of growing daylight, and hurried to Jim’s side once more.
How still he was, how terrifyingly white. The scrub of beard on his face made him seem older than his twenty-four years, and his cheeks looked sunken, as if he hadn’t eaten properly since the battle. Probably hadn’t, Jamie thought regretfully. Poor devil. He tipped some water into his hand and poured an infinitesimal amount carefully between Jim’s parted lips.
What must it have cost him to know his comrades had been either killed or captured, to watch them slaughtered, and to yet scrape up the courage to rescue his commanding officer? What Jamie truly knew about Captain James Nicholls would have filled a very slim volume indeed: he knew that his father was a moderately successful manufacturer of bathtubs and extraordinarily stingy with an allowance, that he expected Jim to follow him into the trade and that Jim had no desire to do so, hence the parsimony, that his mother was half-Irish and a Catholic and that Jim had gone to a Catholic boys’ school as a child where the brothers had taught him to ride and handle horses, that he had one sister named Pauline, nick-named Pansy, aged sixteen and anxious to come out into society.
Those were the facts; what remained was simply the distillation of the time they had spent together – that Jim was honest and good-humored in most situations, that he was unfailingly courteous and far more gentle in manner than most men of Jamie’s class, that he was a superior officer, calm and confident, and that Jamie admired him more than any man he’d ever met. Had, in point of fact, admired him until his heart ached and it strained the outermost reaches of Jamie’s ability to maintain a cool, friendly distance – not always easy given Jim’s frank sweetness. Now he wished he’d been more demonstrative, that Jim knew how great was Jamie’s esteem for him.
Tentatively, Jamie touched Jim’s cheek, and then gave in to impulse and kissed it with the utmost gentleness. Wiping the moisture from beneath his eyes, he crawled onto the bale of hay next to Jim and fell into a weary sleep.
*
The sound of voices jolted him from slumber. He sat up, utterly bewildered, and saw Jim sitting up as well, and a small man in a rusty-looking black suit sitting beside him.
“There you are, slugabed,” Jim said with a merry, if strained, smile.
“What’s happening?”
“Well, Dr. Mandelbaum here is doing what he can to patch up my leg.” Jim indicated the small man with a gesture. “Dr. Mandelbaum, may I introduce my commanding officer, Major James Stewart?”
The small man nodded at him. “Major, a pleasure.” His English was heavily accented, but perfectly understandable. “You will forgive me for not shaking your hand,” he said, holding up blood-stained fingers that clasped a needle.
“Delighted,” Jamie said, rising to a sitting position. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and saw that Jim was sitting atop a white sheet and that his trousers had been removed. His modesty was preserved by the length of the rustic smock he wore. Jamie forced himself to meet Jim’s eyes and not gaze at his long and quite handsome legs. “Have you got enough light to see?”
“This is only the most…how do you say it, the most rudimentary surgery,” Dr. Mandelbaum said.
“A bit of bad news, Jamie,” Jim said softly.
Jamie’s heart sank. “What is it?”
“The bullet has hit the bone, and I fear there remain shards inside the leg,” the doctor replied. “The wound now requires closer attention, but if we were to transport him to my surgery, the patrols would surely see and suspect.”
“Patrols!”
“Yes,” Jim sighed. “I’m afraid so, old man.” He reached over and pressed Jamie’s hand. “Dr. Mandelbaum has very kindly dispatched a brave young lady to go to Langemark to beg for an ambulance. The Red Cross, you know, has –“
“Yes,” Jamie murmured. “But, Doctor – the leg. Isn’t an operation rather urgent? Isn’t there a risk of infection?”
The doctor nodded sadly. “It is, but I have cleaned the wound as best I can. If your friend was caught, Major, he would be shot immediately. The soldiers have not been so very kind to us.”
Jamie turned to Jim. “How are you getting on?”
“I feel better,” Jim replied stoutly. “Dr. Mandelbaum gave me some perfectly marvelous pills – opium, yes, Doctor?”
Dr. Mandelbaum smiled. “Close enough, Captain. Some Bayer as well.”
“And Mrs. Joos, the dear woman in the farmhouse, brought me some breakfast. She left some for you, too, but you were sleeping so soundly I didn’t dare wake you.” Jim pointed. “It’s over there. You must be famished.”
Jamie tried to cudgel his brains into a sensible reply. “How long until the ambulance arrives?”
“I cannot say,” Dr. Mandelbaum said. “There has been no nearby battle, so if God is good, possibly eight or ten hours – that is, if there are no delays.”
“Ten hours!” Jamie rose on shaking legs. Hunger, fatigue, fear? It mattered little now – what mattered was quick and decisive action. “We haven’t that much time. There must be a way to convey him to your surgery. A cart, perhaps, where he can be concealed.”
“Major, the patrols are out. They are suspicious. They suspect us of hoarding food better meant for their own bellies, they suspect us of smuggling produce to your soldiers – my own daughter was nearly speared at the end of their bayonets for the audacious crime of carrying a covered basket of apples. If you, or your friend were to be caught, I could not live with myself for allowing it. Please – patience. If Captain Nicholls stays quiet and still, he will not further inflame the wound. We will hope and pray.”
Jamie sank back onto the bale of hay. “Hope and pray and stay trapped and helpless.”
“I don’t want to endanger anyone else, Jamie,” Jim said quietly. “If Dr. Mandelbaum was suspected of helping us, then he too would be subject to reprisals.”
Chastened, Jamie nodded his head and pressed his hands to his eyes. “Yes. Yes, I realise that. I’m sorry, Doctor. Please forgive me.”
Dr. Mandelbaum waved the hand not holding the needle. “I understand your anxiety, Major. And your steadfast devotion to your friend is most excellent. ‘A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter; he who finds one finds a treasure.’ I promise you this: if the ambulance is not here by tomorrow morning, I will do everything in my power to help you. I swear it.”
“You’re most kind,” Jamie said.
Dr. Mandelbaum wiped his hands on a corner of the sheet. “I have done what I can. Here are two more of the wondrous pills Captain Nicholls found so restful. You will please see that he takes them with food in ten hours. I will return tomorrow morning; I hope by then you will be gone. Stay still, Captain.” He stood and nodded at Jamie once more. “I wish you good day, Major.” He gave a brief bow and made his way silently from the barn.
Some distance away, the sound of church bells floated into the barn.
“Sunday morning,” Jim commented. “Hasn’t even been a week since…Jamie, please eat something.”
Jamie turned to Jim. “How are you feeling? And be honest, Jim. Please.”
“I’ve felt better, I don’t mind telling you. But the pills help a bit. I’m feeling a bit sleepy again, in fact. Grab hold of that breakfast and come keep me company before the cow breaks out of her pen and eats it on you. I was staring her in the eye when the doctor was patching me up and I think she has designs on those lovely seed-cakes.”
Jamie took a wooden tray bearing a plate of food, a glass of milk, and a napkin, and brought it back to the bales of hay. Looking at it, he realised he was famished. He sat and began eating with intense appetite, savouring every bite of the rosy ham, the slices of creamy white cheese, the seed-cake drizzled with honey.
“Good man,” Jim said. “Like as not I’m going to sound like your mother, but it’s lovely to see you eat.”
Jamie mustered a faint grin. “Mother hasn’t much regard for food. Ask her about the latest fashions, though, and she’s a whirlwind of enthusiasm. Are you up to telling me how you managed to escape, avoid the attention of the Germans, and effect a rescue?”
“It wasn’t due to my cleverness, I can tell you that. I was overlooked – that’s the long and short of it.” Jim shook his head. “Another horse collided with poor Joey in the melee and I fell. Must have hit my head, because when I awoke the battle was over, I was face-down in the dirt, and Joey was gone. Poor Albert. I don’t suppose he’ll ever see his horse again, and he did love him so.”
“Didn’t the Germans find you?”
“I had fallen into a clump of bushes – blasted prickly things – and I reckon I was still and quiet enough not to attract attention. When I finally crawled out of the brambles, the last of the soldiers were marching toward the garrison town. They’d left the carnage behind. It was….” Jim shook his head. “Well, you saw. You must have seen.”
“Yes,” Jamie said.
“At any rate, I followed at a distance. Wasn’t far to go, and I found my way to someone’s storage shed and bunked down until nightfall. Then I stole some clothes from a laundry line – not very kind of me, but I was desperate, Jamie – and mussed my hair and skulked around until I discovered what had become of the surviving lads – and of you. My German’s terrible, but I got the gist of it. I was frantic with worry.”
“But the risk, Jim! My God, you could have been captured yourself.”
“I almost was.” Jim offered a wan smile. “A patrol stopped me just after dawn, but I affected to be deaf and dumb. I couldn’t believe it worked. They treated me like the dirt under their feet after that, and I found my way around with little difficulty after that. Well, and after I paid the town baker five guineas to pretend I was his assistant.”
Jamie wiped his mouth on the rough, but clean linen towel that had been laid under the plate of food. “You’d make a marvelous spy, old man.”
“I doubt it. My heart was in my throat the entire time. I waited after that – for an opportunity, any chance to find you. Last night they left the service door unlocked, and I walked in quite boldly. People don’t look at servants much, you know.” He shook his head. His eyes seemed to lose their focus.
“Jim?”
“Hm? It’s nothing. At any rate, I watched that…catastrophe…yesterday. Jamie –“ Jim’s hand rested on Jamie’s leg. “You mustn’t blame yourself.”
Jamie set his tray aside. He glanced around at the immaculately kept interior of the barn, then at the weave of the linen sheet Jim sat on, noting the warp and weft of the threads where blood had stained it red. He looked at his hands, bruised and stiff with dried blood. Jim’s blood. Why hadn’t he washed them at the pump? Finally he met Jim’s eyes. “How not, Jim?” His heart ached so badly. “How not?”
Jim’s mouth curved upward. He rubbed Jamie’s thigh affectionately. “Dear Jamie.” His voice was slurring once more. “It’s not our war any longer. Horses against that terrible machinery. It’s a nightmare. Dreadful. We need modern munitions.” He yawned. “Seems clear in retrospect, but then…everything does, doesn’t it?”
The light pressure of Jim’s hand burned Jamie’s thigh; despite the arduous nature of their plight, he reveled in the touch, far too precious to abandon. “I’ve exhausted you, forcing you to talk. Sleep a while.”
“Dear, dear Jamie.” Jim sighed and lay down. The farmer had thoughtfully provided a quilt and a pillow, and Jamie arranged the pillow beneath Jim’s head and covered him with the quilt. Jim reached up and caught Jamie’s hand. “Will you stay with me while I sleep?”
“Of course, Jim. After all, where else would I go?”
A crooked, drowsy smile flitted across Jim’s face. “You’re such a wit, old man.”
“Hush.” Jamie couldn’t resist smoothing Jim’s tousled, dirty curls back from his forehead. “Sleep now.”
The model of obedience, Jim closed his eyes. “Stay,” he whispered.
Jamie caressed Jim’s face and resisted the urge to kiss his mouth. “I’m not leaving you.”
*
His vigil lasted all day and into the night. After a sound slumber, Jim fretted in a state of semi-consciousness, muttering and groaning and alarming Jamie no end. Jamie watched him anxiously, testing the hot, dry skin of his forehead, giving him water and the soup Mrs. Joos brought out to them, and finally the two pills Dr. Mandelbaum had left behind. He was profoundly grateful when Jim fell into a deeper sleep. Night fell, and with it came a thunderstorm, sweeping the barn with rain and the delicious smell of water, but Jamie couldn’t appreciate it; he watched Jim without cease, fearing that any moment would be a decided turning of Jim’s footsteps on a path toward eternity. Jim’s respiration had begun to rattle in and out of his chest, his fever grew higher, and he cried out in his sleep, striking out with his hands, battling some invisible enemy.
Jamie considered trying to wake him – would it be better to be conscious and in pain, or unconscious and terrified? – when there was a light tap on the barn door. Thinking it was Mr. Joos, the farmer, Jim went cautiously to the door and recoiled at the sight of two unfamiliar faces, both male. Terrified, he scrabbled for the scythe he had lifted from the wall hours before, but a voice gave him pause – a voice that was soft and warm, and French-accented.
“Are you Major Stewart?”
Jamie held the scythe. “Who’s asking?”
“Hilaire DuPlessis and Henri Beauchamp – Red Cross.”
“Oh, thank God.” Jamie grasped the door to keep himself upright. “Thank God.”
*
TBC.....
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Date: 2012-06-04 06:54 am (UTC)Jamie caressed Jim’s face and resisted the urge to kiss his mouth. “I’m not leaving you.” Aaww...
Wonderfully written. Can't wait for the next installment!
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Date: 2012-06-04 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-04 08:06 am (UTC)We’ll have you free in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” It's something my dad still uses :) (He's not WWI vintage by any means, but it's such a familar phrase).
I'm so pleased to see the Red Cross here that I may crawl into your fic and kiss them.
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Date: 2012-06-04 03:07 pm (UTC)Thank heavens for the Red Cross for sure. And thank you so much for your lovely comments. :)
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Date: 2012-06-04 02:53 pm (UTC)That was quite an emotional rollercoaster, first Jamie being rescued by Jim, then them having to leave the others behind and finally Jim being wounded. I am going to be gnawing my fingernails up to the elbows again with this one! Thank God for the Red Cross, but I am still so worried about Jim!
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Date: 2012-06-04 03:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-04 03:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-04 03:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-04 05:19 pm (UTC)Edge of my seat, as usual. Visiting a friend and I practically ignored her attempts at talking to me while I read this. Couldn't wait!
Thank you for another wonderful update!
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Date: 2012-06-04 05:42 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it. Thank you very, very much! Yay for the Red Cross. :D
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Date: 2012-06-04 07:33 pm (UTC)•••
“I know,” Jim whispered. His hand came up to cup the nape of Jamie’s neck, and he rested his forehead against Jamie’s briefly. “I know. I saw.”
“You…you saw?” Sudden shame, as cold and sharp as splintered ice, stabbed its way into Jamie’s chest.
“Yes. I watched. And there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. Nothing. And I saw you as well, Jamie. My God, how brave you are.”
“Brave – Christ almighty, Jim.” Jamie gave a hollow laugh.
•••
Jamie admired him more than any man he’d ever met. Had, in point of fact, admired him until his heart ached and it strained the outermost reaches of Jamie’s ability to maintain a cool, friendly distance – not always easy given Jim’s frank sweetness. Now he wished he’d been more demonstrative, that Jim knew how great was Jamie’s esteem for him.
Tentatively, Jamie touched Jim’s cheek, and then gave in to impulse and kissed it with the utmost gentleness.
•••
Looking forward to more. Oh, how lovely these characters are, how beautifully they hurt.
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Date: 2012-06-04 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-22 10:01 am (UTC)I'm sorry you're sad that it's finished, but I was quite pleased :)
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Date: 2012-08-22 03:06 pm (UTC)