Folios/v7/Time-landscape-2019/MS-160
Katy was crossing the camp on an errand for her new employer when she saw him.
“Matthew,” she choked out.
Katy hadn’t seen him for days, not since he had found out about her connection to Lord Somerset. She had been working alongside the doctors in the hospital tent, tending to the soldiers ill with cholera. The army was still camped on the shore three days after landing, waiting for orders to march to battle. The closest Katy had come to Matthew in that time was in her dreams, which were the same, every single night. Each night he died in her dreams, and every morning she woke, covered in sweat, bile rising in her throat. However much she told herself it wasn’t real, she couldn’t escape the sense of foreboding. The memory of being utterly alone and staring down at his dead blank face ached in her very bones; she couldn’t bear it.
Now that he was here, alive and well, like she’d hoped for constantly, she couldn’t think of a word to say. She tried to summon up the speech she’d prepared, the apologies she had rehearsed countless times in her head, but her mind was utterly blank. Soon, though, the battle would begin and she might never see him again. This was her last chance to tell him why she’d done it.
“I can explain everything, please—”
“Kit Russell,” a voice said, interrupting her.
Katy spun around to find a bored horse staring intently at a yellowing patch of grass; its rider was staring intently at her.
Lord Somerset.
He had found her at the worst possible moment. She shifted on the spot, looking between her employer and Matthew, who still hadn’t spoken.
“He knows,” Katy burst out.
“Ah.” Lord Somerset – or Raglan, as Matthew knew him – looked regretful. “That explains why your articles were so revealing, despite Kit’s presence. When did you find out?”
“A few days ago,” Matthew said bitterly. “I can’t believe you’ve been spying on me, Kit, all this time.”
“Days?” Lord Raglan said. “But that means… Kit, I must say I am disappointed in you for not exerting more pressure over Mr Galloway before he discovered where your true loyalties lay. Did you not work closely enough together? Did he never trust you?”
“Actually, Sir, I did have opportunities to change his articles.” Katy held her head high. “I decided not to take them.”
Somerset tilted his head enquiringly, hands tightening on his reins. “Why is that?”
“After seeing the true conditions in the hospitals and the lack of attention given to the soldiers’ welfare, I decided that something needed to be done, despite your concerns.”
“You were sent here to make sure that no information was leaked to the Russians. How do we know that they won’t be better prepared for the battle because of you? You could lose us the war!”
“I don’t know if that is true or not, Sir. I sincerely hope it is not, because I believe in what Mr Galloway has been doing. He is a brave and honourable man, and his editor tells us that his articles have led to a series of much-needed reforms. Already women are journeying to the front to volunteer as nurses – you may have heard of Florence Nightingale. There’s also a train track being built to the front, all because of the information in Matthew’s articles. More supplies and ammunition will reach the front and the men too, because of him. The advantages of progress outweighed the possible risks of the articles. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Sir, but I utterly stand by my choice – and Mr Galloway.”
Raglan looked furious. “I see. In that case, there is nothing more to be said. I release you from my service.” He pulled his horse’s reins and galloped away.
Katy didn’t care about him. When she dared to look at Matthew, he was watching her intently, a complicated expression playing across his features. He looked nervously hopeful, but he didn’t venture a comment on her confession. Then suddenly he ducked his head and disappeared back into the crowds in the encampment. She stared after him. He knew everything now. She couldn’t do any more to get him to forgive her. It was up to him.
Katherine and Matthew sat curled under a blanket, watching the Rebels dig their trenches in the fields below the castle walls. They were just visible through the fog, digging tirelessly in their shirtsleeves, muskets propped up beside them. It was a strange sight, with the snow melting all around them.
The young men of the militia had become all aflutter with panic at the sight. They had abandoned their posts and begun to argue frantically over whether to surrender. Katherine and Matthew were among only a few civilians to remain in the castle, instead of fleeing the city or barricading themselves and their families in their houses. They watched the terrified soldiers with a kind of serene curiosity. They had each other and at that moment, it was all that mattered.
Eventually, the whispering gang of militia boys pushed forward a representative. He tentatively approached Colonel Durand, who was eyeing the Rebels’ work through a telescope. The soldier handed the colonel a letter. As he read, his face turned an impressive shade of puce.
Folios/v1/Time-landscape-1745/MS-7
“What is the meaning of this?” the colonel spluttered in outrage.
The wide-eyed soldier stuttered out a response, stumbling over the words so quickly that it must have been memorized. “Sir, we’re too exhausted to continue the guard. We had expected relief from the British Army by now and we can’t carry on holding the defences alone. We’re going to surrender.”
“No!” Durand said firmly. The boy opened and closed his mouth several times. His eyes darted beseechingly back to his friends, who were clustered together at a safe distance, listening intently.
“We’re perfectly capable of defending the city,” Durand insisted. The boy was so terrified that he didn’t even seem to be listening. “The Rebels’ trenches are terrible, and too far away to be useful. They don’t even have any cannons!”
“I’m sorry, but we’re going to surrender before we’re all killed, Sir. We’re going to speak to the mayor.” The boy ran back to the group.
Durand tried to stop him, but it was too late. The militia marched out of the castle, leaving Durand with only the elderly men of the garrison to defend Carlisle.
The Russian army were a stain of burnished metal on the other side of the river. At first Katy hadn’t understood what she was seeing. It looked like their enemy was a giant, armoured creature, crouching in the foothills, waiting to pounce. Then she realized that she was seeing the helmets of the soldiers, who were spread in a long line across the horizon. After a long and hot day of marching, they had reached the battleground.
The British troops were spread out across the plain in a wave of red coats, their bayonets flashing in the sun. They were a thin red line, marching towards the enemy. To the right of them were the French, a smaller group in dark uniforms, and beside them were the tartan kilts and tall black bearskin hats of the Scottish regiment.
Katy began to climb down the crumbling slope to join a group of civilians gathered at a village on the plain. It was no more than a smudge of wooden outbuildings in the vast desert. They made a dull group against the startling brilliance of the soldiers.
The air became saturated with noise as the artillery began firing. Katy automatically ducked in shock, expecting to be hit. She could feel the air vibrating around her, as though the bullets were touching her as they passed. A shell exploded in the buildings ahead. Its wooden walls caught fire and the air filled with white smoke that spread quickly through the village. The people she was with screamed and ran for cover. Katy blinked away the soot as she tried to see through the dense air.
She should have stayed on the hill, where the whole battlefield was visible. Now she was in the centre of the chaos and couldn’t see a foot in front of her. She wished she could find Matthew, just to make sure he was safe. She hadn’t seen him since the encounter with Lord Somerset the day before.
She’d watched Matthew die four times in her dreams now. Every morning she woke up screaming his name, the image of him dying burnt across her retina in vivid, putrid colours. It had felt so real; each of his deaths had ripped out another part of her heart. It wasn’t like any other dream she’d ever had. It felt like a memory.
Why was she so upset by something that hadn’t even happened? Matthew was here somewhere – avoiding her, but well and healthy – and yet she felt as lost as if he were long dead.
> Time merging is creating mental suffering in subject allocation “KATY” in time-landscape 1854
> This may affect the chances of the objective being achieved
> Time is running out and the subjects have still not made progress towards the desired outcome
> Intervention recommended
>> Intervention denied