His gaze drifted to the fire. “You are going to tell me how you saved me.”
“You may not believe what I tell you.”
His eyebrow rose as he shot her a quick look of amusement. “How can I not? I am sitting here, warming my toes, with a full belly and a lovely woman. I’d like to think heaven is something like this, only with brandy, but for the moment I’m prepared to accept that I’m alive.” He stroked his chin. “And I need a shave. I doubt I’d worry about such things up there.” He pointed toward the ceiling.
She smiled. “Valid points, Mr. Finn. Which lead me to assume you are well-educated, and if not a member of Society, then certainly someone who has a solid and suitable background.”
He blinked.
“You are no farmer, sir. We know you are, or were, a soldier. But your speech and manners are appropriate to those of a commanding officer. So until you regain your memory, rest assured that you are a gentleman. And I’ll ask Dal to shave you.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
“Now.” She took a breath. “As far as saving your life…there came a point when your body prepared to surrender. I was unwilling to let that happen.”
Finn lifted his hand, stopping her. “How did you know? What made you think I was dying?”
It was a fair question. “Physically, your breathing had become laboured and shallow, barely moving your chest. Your pulse was weak and your face the colour of parchment.”
He gulped. “All right, yes. That would be a good sign. So what did you do then?”
“I mixed a draught of herbs, some familiar, some you would not recognise. I have done so before, once or twice, but I will confess this was the first time I had used them at full strength.” She straightened in her chair. “I made enough for two. You could still swallow, so I made sure you had as much as I could force down your throat. Then I drank mine.”
“And?”
“And then, I held your hand.” Her voice softened. “The herbs helped relax both of us and let our minds climb above the mundane business of living, onto what I can best describe as an alternate level of consciousness.”
“And what then? We sat down, had a nice chat and you told me to stop dying?”
She heard the edge in his words. “Mr. Finn, I did say you’d find this difficult to believe. I can stop now if you’d prefer, and we’ll just say my medicines cured you of your ailments.” She blinked and cleared all expression from her face, unwilling to display anger to someone in his circumstances.
“I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re correct. This is difficult to believe, but as I said before. I’m here. So whatever happened, it worked.” He looked at her again. “What did happen?”
Hecate hesitated, then decided that she could only be honest with him. There was nothing to be gained by hiding the truth. “I saw you, fighting. Surrounded by the most terrible sights, in the midst of a fierce and fatal fight, bodies, blood…you leaped onto a horse and you carried a flag, desperate to hold it high above the horrors around you…” She paused for breath.
“A battle.” He frowned. “Yes, a battle. A monstrous battle. They died…they were all dying around me…” His eyes filled with tears. “So much death, oh God. Iremember. So much death.” His hands clenched together until the knuckles turned white. “I was a Colour Sergeant. I had to make sure our lads could see the flag once the fighting started.”
“Take your time, Mr. Finn,” she counselled him gently. “Breathe.”
He struggled. “It was the dust, the cannon fire, the chaos…I couldn’t get above it. So Will Turndale grabbed a horse’s reins and threw them to me. I jumped up on him, and the flag flew again…” He swallowed. “So much death.”
His eyes turned to her, but she knew he wasn’t seeing her—he saw his memories as they flooded back. The damn had opened and the words would not stop now.
“None of us could have guessed how bad it would be. It started slow, orders coming through channels, the brigades and squares forming. I had the colours at the back of the field. But it wasn’t long before it was every man for the fight.” His lungs heaved. “Oh God, the death. The killing…”
Hecate’s heart ached and she rose, going to his side and sitting on the arm of his chair. Resting her hand on his shoulder, she squeezed it a little, offering what comfort she could. “Tell me. Tell me all, Finn.”
“I saw my friends die. A terrible death, shot to pieces, hacked to pieces…victims of others whose friends suffered the same fate. It was…inhuman. There was no acknowledgement of life or humanity. People became things to be slaughtered. The cannon fire was deafening, and after a time you couldn’t hear the screams anymore…”
His hand came up to cover hers and he squeezed it hard.
“Go on…”
“It wasn’t long after the battle commenced that I saw…” His voice tapered away.
“What, Mr. Finn? What did you see?”
He turned to her, his face pale. “Oh God. I saw a man shot to death.” His throat moved as he gulped down air. “By his own commanding officer.”
