S1E2 The Traveling Healer: A Traveler No More

“CARAC! Git Up! What are you doing?”

Carac, shaken awake from his peaceful sleep, started feeling the emotions of someone who had fallen asleep when he wasn’t supposed to.

First, Surprise, then, “How did this happen?” Next was identification, “Who is waking me right now?” In this case, it was Rowan. Third, awareness: “Where am I again?” Next, assessment: “What was I supposed to be doing?” Then finally, abject terror, “Father is going to be pissed!” all of this happened in two and a half seconds.

“Has the battle started?” Carac asked. His sleep had been so deep he could not focus his mind on the time of day. Maybe it was the peace before battle or the bees’ hum that tranced him into a deep slumber but he was about to pay the price for his snooze.

“Your father is not very pleased with you. You’re lucky the battle hasn’t started. Now get up, we have to get back into town.” Rowan barked as he pulled Carac up off the ground. 

Carac’s mind caught up to the moment: the sun had gone down, and the dark sky was starting to take its turn as guardian of the skies. There had been a delay to the start of this battle. His sleep had been merely a nap in his eyes. I guess the eyes of his father mattered more, but he could make up for it when the wounded started coming.

“Wait, what? Is this battle not happening today?” Carac asked.

“I didn’t know you were the type to be in a hurry?” Rowan motioned his arms down the road they needed to travel, and his eyes got wide as Carac asked his question. The message landed with Carac.

“Alright, alright, I’m moving, is the battle not happening or what?”

“No, it hasn’t. Where are the horses?” Rowan asked.

Carac answered the question and before Rowan when his own direction, he told Carac to make his way to the town center and wait there. His father had gone the other way looking for him. 

Carac spent half the walk back worried about how his father would react. Carac had never let the moment take him over like that. He’d thought about it but never wanted to act on it. Then it hit him: where was his father expecting Carac to be? Carac had done what was asked of him. There wasn’t much he could do until the wounded started coming back to their camp, and based on where the soldiers were setting up plus the fact his father had asked Carac to take the horses away, it was safer being in a different part of town. What’s father going to do, send me away? Carac thought to himself. It was a poor attempt at making himself feel better.

Carac resigned himself to listening to his father, regardless of how mad he was. Carac wasn’t going to try and explain, just listen. The battle would wash away any frustration his father might hold on to. The blood and suffering of others always had the effect of making you forget your personal worries. 

Carac was going to give it a go and try to read his father’s face. Maybe he would catch a part of his father he had never seen. He’d been mad before, but not on the eve of battle. It was possible he would see a new side of his father. Why not make the most of being scolded? 

In the final 50 yards, he could see his father helping some of the townsfolk and a few of the soldiers who’d arrived with ailments. This was good, he would be distracted and there was no way his father would yell at him in front of other people, right?

The last 20 feet, Carac calmed himself with a deep breath and prepared for the worst.

“Did Rowan find you, or did you wake from your daydreaming?” His father said calmly.

“R-R-Rowan found me. You’re not mad?”

“Well, I’m not pleased you decided to do whatever it was you were doing,” Carac’s father answered. “That’s it, we’re done. Keep your foot wrapped, do you have a walking stick at home?” he continued helping one of the villagers to their feet. 

“Yes, Healer”

“Good, use that walking stick as much as you can for the next two days, at the very least. Are all your fields planted?”

“Yes sir”

“Do you have someone who can tend the fields for you while this heals?”

“My boys have been watching the fields and the girls have been taking care of the animals”

“Good, I’ll check on you before we leave town. This is my son Carac.”

“Nice to meet you Carac, and Thank you Healer”

“Please call me Simon, it was a pleasure to help you. If I had a horse I’d have Carac ride you out of town, things are happening around here I don’t think you want to be part of. Carac, can you help him to the edge of town?”

“Yes Father, Rowan went to check on the horses once he’d found me. I’m sorry, I had fallen asleep under the big oak by the beehives.”

“That sounds like a lovely nap. Now get going. I don’t want our new friend walking around in the pitch black.”

Carac got himself under the farmer’s left arm, and instead of walking him to the edge of town, he took him all the way home. The farmer told him the story of how he’d fallen off the roof of his barn and landed on his feet. He’d not been able to walk in two days. He’d heard rumors that a traveling healer was coming to town. One of his boys helped him limp into town. The Farmer sent him home as soon as they saw the first soldiers. 

The Farmer went on to tell Carac how wonderful his father was for helping people. His father had a way of making people feel like they had known him forever. The Farmer’s wife and two of his kids waved goodbye as Carac started his way back to the town square. 

Carac got back to their room, and his father started with an update.

“Negotiations have been put on hold for the night, the Yorks seem adamant to come away with more than what they arrived. Your room is upstairs to the right.”

Not being familiar with the art of war, Carac asked, “What are they negotiating?”

“I’ve no idea. I just know what I hear in the square. Dukes and their knights assume no one is listening as they ride through the square. The King’s knights are what we see in the town square. They have a high opinion of themselves and don’t care who hears them talking.  Regardless, we’re here to help. The motivations of men are not our condern.”

Carac lay in bed thinking about the soldiers and how they left the ramparts to sit by their fires. Only a few of those he passed by looked like they were taking guard duty seriously. No one asked him where he was going, maybe he did not look threatening enough? From his room, he could see the glow campfires against the tents across the field. The smell of campfires brought positive memories. He hoped those memories would not be replaced with what was instore for their time in St. Albans. 

The armies had gone to bed, the talkers would talk late into the night about whatever it was they talked about to prevent needless death.

Carac, woke before dawn, a lifetime of early morning departures bullied his DNA into being a quick riser. It was too dark to see movement across the field. The York army still had the element of movement surprise on their side. The one positive was the sound of songbirds filling the morning air. Missing were the metallic clangs of movement or battle. 

Now outside, Carac saw no changes to the defenses of the King’s Army. In fact, the few men he could see in the streets weren’t talking or moving like there was a battle on the horizon. Carac had never been near a battle. One time in Carac’s life, his father had gone to an area where two sizable armies were in an open field. Carac was left behind that day. 

Regardless of his own experience, this felt weird, like no one cared what was on the horizon. Rowan, His Father, and Carac would not be here if a battle wasn’t going to happen, not that the soldiers would have known, but Carac wanted to tell all of them, their lives were at stake, but he felt like he would have been laughed away with the line, “little boy, go away”. 

Regardless of the soldier’s readiness, the healer’s wagon and his father’s station was ready for any action that might happen, and Carac didn’t want to stand around and just wait. We decided to take a walk to the horses, make sure they were fed and let them know they hadn’t been abandoned. He left a message with the Innkeeper where he was going and went out to the early morning darkness. 

The farther away from the town center he got, the more soldiers started to stir, some were on their feet yet none of them were moving to wake up the rest of the camp. The focus was on the preparation of breakfast. There was laugher around freshly lit cooking fires and not a single Knight to be found. None of the soldiers even looked Carac’s direction. 

He was happy to be ignored.

Carac was much happier with the horses. Like the bees, they existed in the moment. The horses would stir when they had eyes on an opposing army but his horses would be spared any charge. Carac took a brush to the horses. With each stroke, the tension in his shoulders went away.

An uncounted amount of time had passed. The morning air became crisp, the smell of campfire was overtaken by the smell of cooked food, and the dark was all but gone from the sky. Carac had closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his favorite horse. Then it hit him: He needed to leave. 

His feeling was indescribable and unlike anything he had ever felt. He exhaled deeper than normal, gave the horses one last handful of hay. The time to move was upon him. Battle must have been near. Is this what his father felt all the time?

The soldiers sat around their dying morning fires. A few Knights moved around the town on horseback, but none of them issued any orders. “Hullo Lad, where you off to?” was asked of him more than once. Carac didn’t feel like those who asked really wanted to know so he didn’t answer. He replied with a polite hello while he tried to hide is concern for what these men would be going through on this day. 

Near the town center, he made eye contact with his father who waved, then turned his head towards an Inn across the town center. His father’s attention was focused, so Carac looked over himself to see what might be going on.

Out front of the Castle Inn, a collection of very official-looking men were talking to one another. They were too far away for Carac to see any facial features. The arms were calm, and no one was yelling. Not wanting to bring too much attention to himself, Carac walked slowly toward his father but kept looking toward the conference.

“Father, what are we looking at?”

“Those are the negotiators. I think they must have stayed in the Castle Inn last night. I saw them go in and was here when they walked out of the building. Thank you for leaving a message”

“Have you seen anything like this before,” Carac asked.

“Aye, I have, can take hours, even days. These armies are expensive. Unless one of these Knights is REALLY hot and bothered, they will look for a peaceful solution. And, one of those men is the king, he might think he could lose if he gets into this battle.”

“Does he know none of his men seem to think anything is going to happen?”

“He probably thinks the men at the ramparts are enough. Kings aren’t always the brightest. We’re not here by accident,” Simon said.

“Dad, I think I felt something this morning, when I was feeding the horses”

“Welcome to the family business. One day I will explain the feelings I get, but they need to be experienced. Don’t be afraid to tell me when you have a feeling something is going to happen”

Carac hadn’t really prepared for the rest of this conversation and he was just happy that his father understood. 

Rowan broke the moment

“Simon, Carac, I need you both in here.”

Rowan spoke to them in a hushed tone and waved his hand to pull them into the building.

“Are the negotiations still going on?” Rowan asked.

“They are, and seem to be going well,” Simon answered.

“I think they are about to end,” Rowan stated.

The three of them looked out the window, and Rowan pointed to the irrigation ditch that ran from the York camp to the bigger town ditch. Soldiers in light armor were crawling towards the town. It was hard to make out the details across the field, but there was clearly more urgency over there than there was in town.

Simon spoke, “Gentlemen, we will go downstairs, remain calm, and act like nothing is happening. These ditch crawlers will go for the ramparts first, and we are well away from any of them. The King’s army knows we are here; they will bring men to us. Stay focused on the job at hand, and we will be safe. What we came here for is upon us.”

Simon stitched up a deep wound. Rowan moved the body of a dead soldier next to his brothers in death. Carac bandaged minor wounds and ordered the soldiers with nasty wounds for his father’s attention. Rowan was good with a needle and when he wasn’t moving the dead, he would be get his needle and catcut. They were a well-oiled machine.

The ramparts held. Only Lancastrian soldiers made it to Simon’s table. When the opposition soldiers made their way to the healer, that’s when the battle was soon to end. The intensity of the sounds and the volume of Knights giving orders told Simon this was not over. The King’s army was holding the line, but they were caught off guard by the trench crawlers. They had to fight not only the York army, but their own confusion. A task the Commanders and Knights managed; until the mass charge came.

The Yorks had arrived in force. They broke through a hole in the defenses, flooding the square with flags of the White Rose. One of the York Kinghts climbed the town’s water fountain, looking down each road. He yelled orders, and his men followed. The ramparts crumbled just like the men who defended them. At the far end of town, the King’s men kept up the fight, but the King was trapped in the Castle Inn. 

The King’s army made a push to get the Yorks out of the square. Soldiers led by the best Kinghts were directing the fight. The York Commanders, seeing their men’s progress being halted, called for the archers to fire. The Earl of Northumberland was feet from the door into the Castle Inn when an arrow lodged into his neck. Death was not instant, but there was nothing even a skilled surgeon like Simon could have done. 

The King exited the Inn with sword draw. This rallied his troops, who, now inspired, surrounded him, ready to give their lives. The York archers were happy to aid their enthusiasm. 

“Loose!” the order filled the air. Arrows struck leather, metal and flesh, at point-blank range.

Lancastrian soldiers fell dead, and dying. The King fell to the ground, three arrows having found their noble target. 

Richard, the leader of the York army, ordered his army to hold. The King’s men, shocked at the sight of their king, down and wounded, the square had stopped moving, and no one was quite sure if they should continue the fight. Carac could feel the tension. No one wanted to be first to act, but everyone was ready to jump back back into the battle.

Richard of York made the first move. He dismounted his horse and everyone who could see it knew this was the signal that the battle was over. He walked past his men, “lower your arrows,” he ordered as he stood over the wounded King. “You will not die here on this day. You will witness my ascendance.”

“Excuse me, excuse me, I’m a healer!” Simon was making his way through the crowd of soldiers.

Richard, surprised that anyone was moving around him so freely, said, “Just who do you think you are?”

“I am a healer, my lord, a surgeon.” Simon was taking a risk. Richard could have accused him of lying and had him killed on the spot. He could have told him to get away and let the man die. Richard saw the blood that covered his apron and then raised his arm for his soldiers to see they needed to take no action.

Simon looked over the wounds when a weakened voice spoke to him. “Save my King,” a pained voice said. It was a wounded Duke of Buckingham. “Please, save my King.”

Richard surveyed the situation. This surgeon was not in Lancastrian colors. If Henry was taken to the Lancaster surgeons, he could be hidden and taken away from St. Albans. No, leave him with this surgeon who looked like he knew what he was doing. This surgeon also fit the description he had been told to look for. “Surgeon, where is your station?”

“Just over there, my lord,” Simon pointed to the other side of the square.

Richard pointed at two of his men “You two, get the imposter to that station.” Richard turned his gaze at Simon, “You better keep him alive”

“That is my business, my lord, keeping people alive.”

Simon saved the King. The arrows had done damage, but the King would make a full recovery.

Richard left one of his men at Simon’s station for the entirety of the surgery. Once finished, and the Yorkist was satisfied the King would survive, he sent for Richard.

“My men tell me that you saved the imposter’s life. I’m also told you saved some of my men from the Reaper’s grave?”

“Yes, my lord, we are here to help any man who comes to our table.”

“You will follow my Army back to London. We leave the day after tomorrow. I expect to see you in our caravan.”

Simon was caught off guard. He couldn’t ignore the order, and he couldn’t hesitate. This was never in his plans. He needed to be mobile, he needed to be with the people, and getting pulled into the Royal circle would change everything about the way he and his son lived. 

“Very well, my lord.”

Richard and his entourage started to walk away. Simon decided to get brave.

“My lord! I have a few townsfolk I need to check in on before I leave town.”

“As I said, we leave the day after tomorrow, and I expect to see you with us.”

CHR;)