Chapter Thirteen

The next few days of walking were much like the first. Just hills, tiny farms, vast open space, and the occasional traveler. Remy and Bieito had settled into a rhythm. They mostly walked in silence, content to just be in each other’s company and conserve their energy. By the time they stopped for the night, they were both too exhausted to consider anything romantic. Remy consoled herself with the reminder that it was just for a week, then the rest of their relationship could evolve.

If Remy had been walking the Camino in modern times, she would have had a map, a guidebook, and a handy list of trendy but authentic restaurants to stop at through the little towns along the way. There would be hotels with soft beds and welcoming hosts. A place to shower. Wine and conversation in languages around the world. Remy would have just been one of many post-divorce, middle-aged women looking for answers to undefinable questions.

But on this Camino, Remy had an end goal. Her journey and purpose were definable and critical. Bieito and Remy had to make do with what they were given, whatever they could find, and the rapidly decreasing supplies from Bieito’s pack. For the most part, they had to keep to themselves.

“We are almost to Ferrol. I will get more food there,” Bieito told her on the third morning.

Remy was hoping for more than food in Ferrol—they needed information. Sure enough, when they entered the city, the place was alive with excited whispers and gossip. Word of the coup had spread to the surrounding cities in Galicia, and as far as they could tell, most people were sympathizers of Colonel Solís and his cause.

Located on the banks of the Ría de Betanzos just off the Atlantic coast, Ferrol reminded Remy of a much larger and more militarized version of Ortigueira. Shipping and fishing were obviously important to the economy here just like in Ortigueira, but there was a military air about everything in this place. The grid of wide, straight streets was unsettling compared to the meandering, narrow roads that Remy had experienced in the rest of Spain. This industrial town meant business.

As Bieito bargained for some cured meats at the butchers, Remy eavesdropped on two older men outside who could hardly contain their enthusiasm.

“He is going to declare the Reino de Galicia once again,” the man with the mustache promised.

“If anyone is going to do it, he can,” his friend agreed. “The will of the people is behind him. For thirteen years we have been under the Kingdom of Castile. Did you hear what the colonel declared?” He looked around and dropped his voice. Though he was whispering to his friend, both of them were probably a little deaf, so Remy was still able to hear what he was saying. “Long live the free Queen! Long live the Constitution! Out with the foreigners! Down with the Dictator Narváez! Down with the system of tribute!” He then slapped his hand over his mouth and blushed, as if he couldn’t believe he’d spoken the words out loud. Remy thought it was adorable, if it was technically treasonous talk.

The men stared at each other with wide eyes, then broke into two big grins. It was scary, yes, but also deliciously exciting. Changes were happening. The people were hopeful. Remy just wished she knew that there would be a better outcome for the Martyrs of Carral.

There had been no sightings of Spain’s General Narváez or his forces anywhere near Ferrol, and no reports of a coming battle yet. Citizens of Ferrol were disappointed when Remy and Bieito revealed that they were coming from the north and traveling south, rather than the other way around. All of the action seemed to be happening farther southwest, and everyone was eager for news.

Still, they were treated with hospitality as travelers of the Camino and invited to stay the night at one of the local churches. Bieito waved off their generosity and insisted that he and Remy press on. They still had time to cover more ground before dark and would hopefully find the answers they were seeking closer to the action.

Remy was relieved not to spend any more time than necessary in the brutally bare city, and she breathed more freely once they were back on the road.

“You are still convinced that we will find my brother in Carral?” Bieito asked her as the miles disappeared beneath their feet. “It seems the colonel and his people are located much closer to Santiago de Compostela. We will never make it there in time. It is at the end of the Camino.”

“No, Lino will end up in Carral. I promise. Though not for a while longer.” Remy debated with herself, wondering if she should tell Bieito the rest of the information, or if it would only worry him. We will hear about a great defeat, she wanted to say. That’s when we will meet Lino. Bieito would only want to get there to prevent Lino from even being a part of the battle. Knowing it was happening and being unable to stop it would be worse, right? Remy convinced herself to keep her mouth shut. It was better to keep Bieito in the dark about the trial of the martyrs.

Even with a secret between them, nothing could stop the couple from growing closer every day. Remy felt in tune with Bieito the way she had never connected with anyone before. Some days she felt like she could walk the Camino forever as long as Bieito was by her side. The journey strengthened their bond until they could almost communicate without speaking. They took cues from each other’s body language and could share the most intimate thoughts and feelings. Remy could tell Bieito knew that there was something she was holding back, and she could also sense his desire to completely connect with her in every way possible, as if he could forcefully tear down the last barrier between them.

A lifetime of Catholic guilt prevented Bieito from giving into Remy’s more-than-obvious physical advances, and this unfortunate pattern held until their last night on the Camino.

“We will reach Carral by midday tomorrow,” Bieito told her, as Remy leaned against his legs. The fire warmed her face, and Bieito’s fingers tangled in her hair.

“That’s great,” Remy said, without much enthusiasm. It’s good. We made it. Still, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed that this was the last night on the path. Bieito must have felt her sadness, because Remy felt a tug on her hair as Bieito tipped her head backward.

He leaned over her and gave her a heart-stopping kiss, filled with the desperate knowledge that tomorrow was a new chapter for them, a dangerous page of the unknown. Their private world of two was about to be invaded as they reentered society and all of its problems. Remy felt his need to savor these last moments together.

As her lips molded to his, she felt the instant Bieito decided to cast off the imaginary shackles that kept him from acting on his desires. His hands grabbed her shoulders and he pulled her into his lap. Remy wrapped her arms around him, leaving no room for doubt in their embrace. She felt his yearning to connect, and to keep her from being torn away from him.

Remy had one thought—finally. It had been a long time since she had been intimate, since that fateful time she had seduced Jack and her life imploded. Instead of feeling any fear and apprehension, Remy just felt the compulsion to keep going. It was as though she might die if they stopped.

It wasn’t at all like she remembered. Or maybe it had just never been as good as she thought it was with Jack. Being with Bieito felt like he was healing parts of her she never realized were broken. Under the stars, she released her need for control and let the spirit of the moment take her away from any rational thought.

For a second, she felt her consciousness rise out of her body and look down at the figures entwined below. There was an almost golden glow, an aura that surrounded them. Under the bright, twinkling stars, two people that should have never existed in the same time celebrated that fate brought them together. Time and space were inconsequential obstacles that could never prevent them from fulfilling their destinies to be as one. It was more than Remy could have ever wished for.

****

Once upon the streets of Carral, the word was that General Narváez was on the move, under orders to crush the uprising in Santiago de Compostela.

“We should be there,” Bieito insisted. It was all Remy could do to maintain a calm and controlled façade. Each day that ticked by while they waited made her increasingly nervous, like the rug was about to be pulled out from under her feet.

So when the bells in Carral finally rang with Spanish victory a week later, the breath Remy had been holding for what seemed like an eternity whooshed out.

“It’s over,” she told Bieito. “The colonel was defeated.”

The blood rushed out of his face as Remy’s words sank in. His brother had been on the wrong side of history and would be punished.

“They have just been captured,” she hastened to reassure him. “Lino isn’t dead.” Yet. No, that was way too morbid.

“You cannot know that,” Bieito said. “Lino, what have you done?” he murmured to himself.

The people of Carral seemed just as shocked as Bieito that the uprising was put down so quickly. From start to finish in just a few weeks, it hardly counted as a rebellion. A few foolish men who believed they could take on the entire Spanish army. They’d had support from the Galician people, but words of support were nothing when what they needed was action.

The sentiment behind the coup was felt throughout the region, sparking a flash of national identity for just a moment, but not long enough. Flint striking steel. Enough for a bit of light, to catch a person’s eye, but not enough to light a roaring fire without the proper conditions. Everyone would go back to their normal lives and routines now that it was over.

As for the Spanish General Narváez, he had casually swatted a fly that was buzzing obnoxiously around his face without a second thought. But Remy knew something that the rest of the people did not—that by executing the colonel and his followers, General Narváez would immortalize this rebellion that would have gone down as a footnote in history if they had all been imprisoned instead. It wasn’t all in vain.

The trial of traitors would be held in Carral. Remy knew that they were all already on their way, heading for a more neutral zone than that of the city closest to the battlefield. Santiago de Compostela had not given the rebels the miracle that they had been counting on. El Camino de Santiago had betrayed them and their cause. Now they would be forced to travel back on the path to Carral to face their deaths.

Except for Lino. Remy and Bieito would be his Milagro del Camino. They just had to rescue him before the trial and give the general one less martyr to the cause. That plan included trusting Remy at her word when she swore up and down that Lino would be a prisoner.

“We need to intercept them outside of the city,” Bieito said, once he had processed the news. He still looked like he was going to throw up but had enough control over his emotions to start to formulate a plan.

“Before the trial?” Remy asked.

“They will be too heavily guarded once they enter the city. The prisoners will be locked up inside of buildings. It will be best to catch the soldiers unaware while they are traveling.”

“But the entire army will be with them!”

“Remy, we won’t be able to get close to Lino while he is in the city. This is our best chance.”

“It’s stupid. It will be impossible to escape or blend in anywhere. They’ll just shoot us as soon as we get close.”

“The Camino will protect us better than Carral will.”

Remy couldn’t argue with that logic, as weird as that statement was. Plus, it was time she put her trust in Bieito’s plan. He had put his brother’s life in her hands for the past two weeks, trusting that Carral was the answer while his instincts had screamed at him to go to the battle where Lino fought.

It was a relief to have Bieito call the shots. While Remy knew her plan had been correct, being in charge of their decisions had been exhausting. And while she knew to go to Carral, to be honest her plan didn’t extend much beyond that. She had spent the last few days while they were holed up in Carral trying to come up with a workable idea. None of her projections saw them all escaping in one piece, and she had started to panic.

Bieito’s plan would eliminate the complications of the city. It was risky, yes, but striking quickly instead of waiting until after the trial results might have the best possible chances of them all making it out alive.

“With such a large army, the general will have to stop frequently to attend to the needs of the horses and his supplies. If they camp along the Camino, it will also be impossible to hide such a large presence.”

“So what do we do? Stroll casually into camp and ask for the keys?” It was hard for Remy to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. Everything just felt too daunting, and like they were relying too much on chance.

Bieito looked hurt at her tone, and Remy immediately felt guilty. “The chance will present itself to us,” he said.

Though Remy didn’t want to examine their relationship too closely right now, she felt a growing distance between them the longer they were in Carral. They had started out their Camino journey on such a high, and she had felt more connected to him than anyone else in a long, long time. He had proposed, for God’s sake. Now, they spoke to each other like strangers. How had this happened in just a week?

Their bond hadn’t been the same since they made love that last night on the Camino. It had felt like the right thing to do at the time; a sweeping, romantic gesture as they gave into the moment. Throwing all caution to the wind as they were seemingly compelled by forces outside their control to come together as one. This high lasted until the moment they stepped off the Camino and into the city, when reality came crashing down on them.

Bieito could hardly look her in the eye as they searched for lodging. Remy felt his guilt at finding happiness with her while Lino was still in so much danger. She could also feel his frustration at the fact that the barrier he thought they could break down was still there between them. Sex hadn’t fixed it. It didn’t make the secret between them go away. She wondered if he regretted it. Maybe we should have waited until after this was all done.

Tragedy and hardship either drove couples apart or made them stronger than ever. If Remy had been asked what she thought would happen on their journey while they were just beginning in Ortigueira, she would have said without a doubt that the journey would bring them closer together. But every day that passed since they came together in the literal, physical sense, the wall between them became more impenetrable.

Remy knew it was her fault for hiding so much of her real story from Bieito, but he wasn’t doing their relationship any favors either. Instead of opening up to Remy, he had withdrawn further into himself each day they waited for news in the city.

It wasn’t until arriving in Carral that Remy realized by wishing to save Lino, she might have sacrificed her relationship in the process. The best thing in her life was unraveling, and she didn’t know how to go about fixing it.

There was an awkwardness in how they addressed each other now, as if seeing each other with their blindfolds off for the first time. Bieito was no longer infatuated by the strong, independent American painter with a penchant for disappearing at inopportune times and turning down marriage proposals. She was who she was, sometimes irritating, complained while they were walking, and asked too many questions.

For Remy, Bieito was still the handsome Galician man she had fallen head over heels for, but his insistence on traditional beliefs and values had started to grate on her. What was wrong with embracing more modern ideals? Did he have to insist on treating her a certain way, just because she was a woman? Weren’t they in this together? Logically she knew he was a product of his time and upbringing, but God damn wasn’t it annoying sometimes.

As they argued about how to free Lino, it was clear that their honeymoon stage was over. This was the first real hurdle in their relationship, and dealing with life and death was not usually the first major obstacle that a couple had to overcome. It would either make them or break them. She did love Bieito, and she knew Bieito loved her, but this love had grown in their own private bubble. She was literally outside of time and space in all the time she had interacted with Bieito. They were now living in the nitty-gritty existence with no escape for Remy back to her own time. Her dream, or fantasy or whatever it was, had been replaced with reality, like her blinders had been pulled off. Now they had to test it to see if their relationship was real, or if it belonged in Remy’s dream world.

In many ways, it would be simpler if it did. If Remy could somehow go back to living in her own world, single and happy, and if Bieito could fall in love with a girl from his own time. No explanations, no integration, no complications. Things that looked picture perfect on paper rarely were. Maybe it was better if she embraced the tangled mess that was her and Bieito’s relationship, because at least it wasn’t a false front, like she had with Jack. She couldn’t fool herself with him anymore than he could fool her. They could fix it, because they could both acknowledge what was wrong with it.

And right now, what was wrong was that they both needed Lino to be okay before they could progress forward. The looming presence above their heads needed to be dealt with, then Bieito and Remy could build the real foundation of their relationship, not just one on magical encounters and mutual attraction.

I need to show him that I trust him, too. Even if the idea that the “chance will present itself” seemed a little too indecisive to ease Remy’s anxiety about the whole thing.

It was with this attitude that Remy found herself hiding in the bushes by Bieito’s side, watching as a seemingly endless parade of soldiers and horses streamed past them. The soldiers’ postures were relaxed, jovial even, as they traveled the Camino. Their victory had been an easy one, and the trip had been short. They were on their way back to their families, having proved to the entire country that the Spanish government had things well at hand.

There was no sympathizing with their fellow countrymen, if Spaniards even considered Galicians to be countrymen. Galicians were not Spaniards. The Spanish army was bigger, stronger, and faster. End of story. There was a conflict, now there was peace. That didn’t seem like a bad thing to the soldiers.

Remy and Bieito had walked west on the Camino, leaving a day’s distance between them and Carral. They had to be sure that the army would stop for the night somewhere in their vicinity. Their access to the prisoners would be under cover of darkness, after much of the army had enjoyed their celebratory wine and sat around the fires talking about the battle.

Much to Remy’s relief, the revolutionaries were near the front of the parade, and she and Bieito spotted them quickly. General Narváez rode at the front, sitting tall in his saddle. A grim slash marked where his mouth was, and he stared straight ahead. While his soldiers were celebrating, this was a man who took his role seriously at all times.

The men surrounding the general all wore similar expressions, and none of them spoke. The forward march was bringing these traitors to their deaths. It was not a time to celebrate. Whatever trial awaited the colonel in Carral, General Narváez knew it would only have one outcome.

The colonel and his supporters sat interspersed among several uncovered supply wagons, while soldiers rode around them, almost blocking Remy’s ability to see.

“Do you see Lino?” Remy whispered.

“No,” Bieito said, voice tight. “Wait, there!” He pointed to the last wagon, where a dirty and disheveled man sat slumped against the back wall. The wagon went over a bump, and the carriage jostled. Another revolutionary reached out with rope-bound hands to steady Lino’s head and keep it from hitting the side.

“He doesn’t look well,” Bieito said. Remy had been thinking he looked like shit but was grateful not to have to be the one to say it. He doesn’t look like he is in any shape to run away.

“He might have gotten injured. Or he could just be sick. As long has he can walk, we should be okay.” If only Remy believed half of what she was saying. These were armed soldiers on horses. They were two people on foot, three if they even managed to break Lino out.

Bieito had been right, though. They had a hell of a lot better chance out in the open than trying to get to Lino while he was behind bars. It would all come down to timing, but ropes were infinitely easier than shackles to break.

Remy wished she could call out to Lino, to give him hope that not all was lost yet. Desperate to hold her tongue, she grabbed onto Bieito’s arm instead. He jumped, but then relaxed a fraction under her touch. “I’m here with you, no matter what,” she told him. I told you nothing would happen to him on the battlefield. Carral was where we were supposed to find him.

The sky darkened with a threatening thunderstorm. The air was heavy and wet on Remy’s skin, and still not a drop of rain fell. With the sun so heavily concealed, it was impossible to tell what time it really was. It felt like dusk, even though Remy knew it was only around three o’clock in the afternoon. This confusion led to the illusion that Remy was outside of space and time once again, the same feeling she had experienced more than once within the village. Her brain and body struggled to make sense of the where and when.

The dreamlike unreality persisted as Bieito and Remy kept pace with the soldiers’ march, staying far enough away so as to remain undetected, but close enough so they wouldn’t lose which wagon Lino rode in.

They have to stop soon. The storm was imminent, yet the general kept his troops marching for as long as he could. The jovial troops grew quieter, and eventually their celebration stopped all together, and the men rode in silence. That, more than anything, sent a chill up Remy’s spine. Hundreds of men, facing forward and riding in complete quiet while lightning cracked in the distance. They looked like a ghost army from long past, unable to make a sound. Which is, really, what they were―an army that a twenty-first century woman was never supposed to see in the flesh.

Finally, Remy saw General Narváez put up his hand and halt the procession just as her feet started to ache. Shuffling around off-road was definitely harder than the obstacle-free path of the Camino. She kicked a tree root and almost tripped, but Bieito caught her shoulders. The couple froze where they stood and waited to see what the next order would be. The army was too far outside of Carral to make it to shelter within the buildings, and the tumultuous clouds above made it too dangerous to be out in the open, especially surrounded by so much metal and gear.

The general motioned for his troops to make camp near the trees and off the Camino, toward where Remy and Bieito lay in wait. It was at that moment that the heavens opened up and unleashed a torrential downpour, making it impossible for anyone to see past their own hand in front of their face.

The men started cursing and shouting as they scrambled to set up makeshift shelters, the lightning illuminating their slow progress every few minutes. Remy and Bieito shivered together as their clothes were soaked to the bone. Bieito wrapped his arms around her and they tried to conserve body heat, but it was useless. She trembled violently and tried to stop her teeth from chattering, clenching them together so tightly her jaw ached and a headache throbbed in her temples.

“A-a-are the p-p-prisoners s-still in the w-w-wagons?” she asked Bieito.

Remy felt him tense, and then pull his body back from hers. “Yes,” he said. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Bieito!” Remy said, as loud as she dared. Her heart leaped into her throat as she watched him boldly walk into the military camp, his presence disguised by the mud and chaos and rain. He didn’t have a uniform on, but nobody could see clearly enough for it to matter or to raise an alarm. All around him, soldiers slipped and struggled as they carted supplies and their horses from the road to the tree line, their heads bent down against the wind.

Please don’t let anyone see him. Bieito strode purposefully to one of the wagons, taking his traveler’s cloak off along the way. He leaned up against the back of the wagon, and Remy thought she saw the tail of the wagon fall open. Another lightning flash blinded her for a few crucial seconds, and by the time she located Bieito again, she saw he was not alone.

A figure stood next to him, covered in Bieito’s cloak. Bieito’s arm was firmly around him, and still the figure swayed on his feet. Remy was doubtful that Lino could even make it a single step, much less run away from the Spanish army. As Bieito helped his brother stumble forward, Lino suddenly started thrashing against Bieito’s hold.

What is he doing? Lino pulled away and was trying to turn back to the wagons. Remy couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it was obvious that Lino was starting to cause a scene. Stop! You’ll both be killed!

It looked like Lino was trying to go back for the other prisoners. Whether he was fevered and hallucinating, or more of a zealot than they’d guessed, Lino was apparently not going to go along quietly with their rescue plan. Bieito had only moments before the struggle was going to attract attention. Remy watched as Bieito grabbed Lino’s head, leaning down and speaking directly into his face. Lino’s shoulders slumped as the fight drained out of him.

Remy exhaled with relief and watched as the brothers headed toward the tree line. If they could keep a low profile, it could be hours before the general realized one of his prisoners was missing. He assumed he had squashed the rebellion. There were no other followers that would risk their lives by attacking him out in the open. The colonel was still imprisoned, and no one was expecting a lowly follower to just randomly disappear. Remy gave thanks for the bystander effect; all of the other soldiers were expecting the rest to keep an eye on the prisoners while they tried to escape the storm, and by doing so, no one was paying attention. It was so easy it was almost stupid.

Until it wasn’t easy anymore. Lino lurched again and turned around to run back to the wagons, only to slip and fall face-first into the mud. Bieito hauled him up to his feet, but the damage was done. A soldier had spotted them and was making his way over.

Bieito froze with one hand on Lino’s collar, holding him up. The soldier barked a question at them, and Bieito answered, trying to look confident. Remy couldn’t hear what was being said, but the soldier walked closer to examine the brothers. Bieito shook his head, then shook Lino by his collar. For a moment, Remy thought the soldier believed the performance. He nodded once, but then abruptly pulled out his weapon.

Time stood still as three pairs of eyes fixated on the end of the rifle. Bieito, Lino, and Remy all froze at the sight of the drawn weapon. Keeping it pointed at the prisoners, the soldier took a deep breath and prepared to sound the alarm.

Before he could get a shout out to alert the rest of the company, Bieito reached out, grabbed the barrel, and slammed the butt of the rifle straight backward into the soldier’s nose. The soldier collapsed into the mud.

Through the waterfall of rain, Remy watched Bieito and Lino return to their original course. Their violent incident, however, had already been spotted. Someone was running over to help the fallen soldier and cried out.

At that sound, Bieito broke into a run, dragging his brother behind him. Remy could only stay hidden in horror while the brothers sprinted in the direction opposite from where she lay waiting, as their way was blocked by more soldiers joining the chase. Everywhere the brothers turned, they were almost surrounded. Their only advantage was the fact that nobody could see very well in the weather, much less shoot their weapon accurately in such a populated area. If anyone had the opportunity for a clear shot, both brothers would have been dead in a blink.

The soldiers weren’t going to risk a friendly-fire incident though, and their numbers were great enough to easily surround two men on foot. Lino, at least, seemed to wake up from his fog enough to grasp the seriousness of their problem, and had started moving better without having to lean on Bieito for support. Remy imagined Lino’s horror at realizing he wasn’t experiencing a fever dream, but was, in fact, being chased by the enemy through the mud in real life. No matter what, real or imagined, it was still a nightmare.

Bieito and Lino were almost back at the wagons, dodging around camp supplies as they ran. The brothers ducked behind a docile cart-horse, still attached to her wagon and waiting patiently in the rain for her dinner. She was a dappled brown color and blended into the muddy scenery. A plain little thing among all the magnificent war horses.

Still, she was the brothers’ only option. What she lacked in speed and agility, Remy hoped she made up for in sturdiness. A few cut reins and a drop of the harness later, Bieito and Lino sat astride the confused horse.

Don’t come back for me, Remy begged. Both of you, run. I’ll be fine.

But Bieito didn’t hear her mental pleas. The area that separated them was now swarming with shouting soldiers, an impossible obstacle course to risk. Bieito sat tall in front, with Lino’s arms locked around his waist. We can’t take the horse with three of us. Please, Bieito, take Lino and go!

But if Bieito had really left with Lino and ditched Remy, then he wouldn’t be the man she fell in love with. His sense of pride and duty obligated him to return on his promise, and he was not going to leave his lady behind. Squinting against the downpour, he turned his head side to side, calculating the best path back to where he knew Remy stood waiting.

With a kick of his left foot, Bieito spun the horse around, and another fierce kick with both heels got her moving. With a surprisingly agile leap, the horse made a beeline through the mess of soldiers, who scrambled to get out of her way. The smarter soldiers were already running over to their own mounts, ready for the chase. Bieito only had a few minutes head start on everyone before they could get organized enough to pursue.

Remy feverishly thanked the rain for giving them a few precious moments to disappear and hide their tracks, but it wouldn’t buy them enough time to escape completely. Her eyes left the advancing horse for a few seconds, and she peered down at the other prisoners, who still remained in the wagons. They were yelling and encouraging Lino, who kept twisting around on the horse to look back at them.

He must feel so guilty leaving them all behind. Remy knew it would be impossible to make Lino understand why they could only save him and not the others and hoped that the guilt wouldn’t eat at him every day. Especially when he finds out the fate of everyone else later. To be the sole survivor of a coup that resulted in everyone being executed and buried in an unmarked grave…Lino would never be the same again after this ordeal.

Remy even struggled with her own guilt, as she looked at the faces of those they had abandoned to die. They hadn’t even attempted to rescue them, or at least cut their ropes and given them a chance on their own. It would have changed too much. Remy doubted she would have even been allowed to make such a drastic change to the timeline.

It was one thing to justify this decision, but it was quite another to stare at the hopeful faces of those who watched Lino flee and know that they were sentenced to die shortly. Their fate has already been decided. It was decided over a hundred years ago, Remy reminded herself. These men went down in history. They are a part of Galician history. This has to happen. But now that Lino was free, would the Twelve Martyrs of Carral be the Eleven Martyrs of Carral in the history books? Was a difference of one person just as bad as letting none of them become martyrs? Would they achieve the same notoriety as the original dozen?

Remy decided it really didn’t matter at the moment. The only thing that mattered was getting Lino and Bieito out of the mess of soldiers in one piece. Her heart nearly stopped as she watched the carthorse squeal and slip in the mud as Bieito yanked the reins, circling for a way out. The horse regained her footing, and Bieito kicked her forward. The soldiers standing in front dove out of the way but were up on their feet a second later as the horse barreled past.

They’re almost to the tree line. Remy started to breathe again. They were nowhere near clear, but at least they were no longer surrounded. Then she saw Lino’s head slump over Bieito’s shoulder, and his arms start to loosen their hold. Bieito must have felt his brother barely hanging on, because he turned around to grab Lino’s waist before he slipped off their galloping mount.

Halfway turned in his seat, one hand on the reins and the other on his brother, who by this point was almost lying on the horse, Bieito was forced to slow their mount down.

It was just enough time for one of the soldiers to ready his weapon. Remy didn’t see him aim, but she heard the crack of the gunshot. Bieito ducked at the sound but kept moving forward.

He’s okay. It didn’t hit him. Remy’s attention turned from the riders to where the soldiers were regrouping. Through the rain, she watched as another took aim. They’re all going to start firing. Now that Lino and Bieito were no longer surrounded, the Spanish soldiers risked nothing by blindly shooting in their general direction.

She wanted to cry out, to tell Bieito to go faster, to bring some attention to herself as a distraction, but the words died in her chest. They were almost to her. When she finally managed to take a deep breath and scream Bieito’s name, her words were drowned out by another crack of gunfire. It was a blind shot through the downpour, a Hail Mary fire.

Remy saw Bieito’s back straighten in shock and pain, before collapsing over the horse’s neck. “No!” she screamed. The horse kept galloping, spurred on by the bullets that whizzed past her. Remy ran to try and intercept the mare, and something shot by her head uncomfortably close. Fuck! She doubled over to make herself a smaller target and continued to sprint after Bieito. The soldiers hadn’t seen her yet, thankfully, or if they had, then she was too far away to hear them sound the alarm about her presence.

The brothers were still on the horse. He can’t be dead. If he was dead, they both would have fallen. At this point she wondered if Lino had been hit as well, or if he had just passed out. Then she saw a body fall from the horse. Was it Lino or Bieito? The horse kept galloping onward with only one rider now, moving significantly faster. The sole rider lay across her back, staying on by some miracle, and soon disappeared out of sight.

Remy ran to where the body lay in the mud, facedown. There was no time for hesitation, especially since they were so exposed. Unwilling to be careful in her urgent need to know who it was, she flipped him over roughly. A wheezing groan escaped him. Remy’s quick fingers wiped the mud off his face, and she let out a sob.

Bieito. His eyes found hers before they rolled up in agony. Warm blood mixed with the grime and rain, but it was impossible to see where it was flowing from. Moving him would only cause more damage, and he was too heavy for Remy to drag anyway. She could only cradle his head, helpless, as the rain poured down and the mud slowly drowned them.

The calls of the soldiers grew louder as they traveled closer, cursing and stumbling on the slick earth. They were still looking for the horse, and for a wild moment Remy thought that maybe they might pass by them unnoticed. Both she and Bieito were so covered in filth that they might as well have been part of the forest. It might have worked, had she been able to quiet the wailing that had risen up in her chest. The moans that filled her ears couldn’t be coming from her own body, could they? It was a sound so full of despair and hopelessness that it frightened her, but she had no control over it.

How had it all failed so spectacularly? Was this her punishment for changing history? The cost of her wish that Lino would live, but Bieito would die. That she would lose everything. There would be Thirteen Martyrs of Carral instead of twelve now. The soldiers would come and take her and Bieito away. Bieito would die, not able to even make it to the trial, succumbing to his gunshot wound while Remy wasted away, struck down by grief.

As she clutched him to her, Remy had a wild thought, one that had only occurred to her because they had nothing else to lose. It was risky, and there was a chance that she could be sent back by herself, leaving Bieito to die in the mud on his own, but it was a chance she had to take.

The soldiers closed in on them, and Remy closed her eyes. I wish both of us were home in my time. No cost was too great at this point. She made her wish freely and with her whole heart, feeling the want and desire overwhelm her fear and apprehension. It consumed her, pushing out any doubts that she was making the wrong choice.

Her fingers dug into Bieito’s warm skin, leaving marks while she waited to pull him with her into her own time. “Everything will be okay,” she whispered to him. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you die.” Modern medicine could save him.

One of the soldiers had spotted them, and he let out a shout to alert the others. He charged toward the couple on the ground. Remy and Bieito still lay there, half-sunk and trapped. Raindrops pounded Remy’s head, cool rivulets streaming down to cover her body as she stared boldly back at her enemy. The soldier came closer, close enough for Remy to see the whites of his eyes as he screamed at them and leveled his weapon.

It was the last thing Remy saw before her vision tunneled and she blacked out, slumping protectively over Bieito’s unnervingly still body. Stay with me.