“It is the smell of death that you have to be worried about, young lad.” Pale moonlight sparkled within the darkness. “I’m an old soldier. Age wears you down. I can’t smell so good anymore. So you tell me right away when you get a whiff of it, understood?”

A gentle wind blew from the east, carrying only the fragrance of freshly fallen rain. Somewhere within the thick darkness a lonely wolf howled.

“The smell of death, sir?” Thomas swallowed nervously, looking into the darkness around him, clutching the reins of the big gelding tighter in his gloved fists. The sweat under the heavy helmet he wore was starting make his scalp itch. For a while the old sergeant was quiet, lost in thought. It seemed that with time Thomas would make a fine soldier. He appears eager, not too intelligent, but willing. Sighing Gerald absently patted the mare that he was riding.

“Aye, an old-timer like me knows that it is the smell of death that betrays his presence.” With a snort the old sergeant stopped his horse under the branches of a giant oak. The ground beneath the oak was bare. Clearly the sergeant has stopped here many times before.

“Let’s stop here, lad. The horses need a break and I can’t tell you the entire tale properly if we’re moving about like this.” With a groan and muttered curses Gerald dismounted. Quickly Thomas followed suit.

“Your sabre, lad.”

“Sir?”

Grunting the old man pointed at the sword still strapped to Thomas’ gelding. “Best you keep that blade ready and right at your side permanently. Never know when you might need it on these roads. Not that it would do you any good though.”

Blushing, the young man went to fetch his sword, aware of Gerald’s eyes on his back.

“I thought these roads are safe, sir. It is after all the King’s country now.”

Laughing loudly, Gerald sat down on a bleak rock next to the oak’s trunk. Noisily he started searched for the pouch of chewing tobacco that he keeps in his breast pocket.  “That’s what we tell young recruits and our superiors, boy. No. Truth is that this road is not safe. In fact, it is far from it.”

“Why, sir? What makes it so dangerous?” Thomas smiled proudly at the sergeant as he strapped the sabre to his waist.

“How much do you know about the war, about these lands and roads that we are patrolling?”

“I know only the basics that they teach us at Military School, sir. King Edward invaded the country three years ago. He met very little resistance and soon these provinces were added to our empire. Guards like us, we patrol these roads to scare off bandits, and assist travellers, sir.”

Gerald nodded quietly. “They sure have you trained properly.”

“Young man, a couple of years ago I was with a small unit of infantry. It was our duty to invade a tiny village just to the north of here.” Gerald spat noisily. “It was barely a speck on a map.”

“I’m pretty sure that if you stood on the hill over there you could still see the little orange lights from the village proudly defying the darkness.”

Keeping quiet, Thomas stared off into the distance, scarcely able to make out the hill that Gerald was pointing out to him.

“We came marching into the village on a sunny Tuesday morning. The village, probably so isolated from the rest of the country, never even knew that there was an invasion going on. Suffice to say, that within an hour we added it to our glorious empire. During this invasion we only suffered one casualty and that was old Tom that had tripped over a bucket of milk and banged his head against the village well. Knocked him right out, it did. He survived though, for a while.”

A flicker of a shadow crossed Gerald’s eyes and the old sergeant snorted noisily before looking up at Thomas. “They all died, you know? Every single one of the men that was in my unit died. They died on this road too.” Standing Gerald, adjusted the heavy sabre strapped to his waist. “A short ride will take us past the place where he normally appears.” Wiping the dust from his red uniform, the old man smiled sadly at Thomas.

“Calm down lad. I am sure that you will be safe. Somebody needs to remember. Somebody needs to remember her.”

Slowly walking towards his mare, Gerald turned and looked Thomas in the eyes. “Do you know what memories are, boy?” without waiting for an answer he continues, “Memories are ghosts. They haunt you like ghosts. The older you get, the more memories you have. With the eagerness of an old, faithful dog they will always follow you around.” Smirking Gerald shook his head. “Thing is, sometimes dogs bite and they can kill a man right easily, if the bite is fierce enough.”

Pausing, solemnly, Gerald took a deep breath.

“Pale as snow she seemed to occupy a space that no mere mortal could enter. A faint touch of rose tinted her full lips. Soft, brown eyes twinkled with intelligence and mischief.” Grunting Gerald turned back towards his horse, checking the stirrups and saddle. “It was her hair that drew my attention from the start. As dark and rich as the night it was, boy. Long too, it reached right down to the small of her back. During the brief time that we knew her, she always wore her hair braided like that. It suited her too.”

“At first the villagers weren’t hostile towards us. In fact, the barkeep invited us in for a drink. His daughter, the exotic lass with dark braided hair and brown eyes even helped old Tom with his bucket-induced bruises.”

Gerald chuckled suddenly. “You could imagine his surprise when he opened his eyes and found an angel staring back at him with curious, brown eyes. Thought he died, he did. Gone straight to paradise, skipped Saint Peter and all of that.”

Sighing heavily the old sergeant mounted his horse. “Marcel, may he burn in hell, started the whole mess.” Growling darkly the sergeant looked off into the darkness. “Come boy, best we get moving now.”

Riding for a short while the two soldiers remained silent. The only sound you could hear was the echo of the horses’ hooves on the rocky road. Somewhere an owl hooted and something big crashed through the bushes. Without warning the old sergeant started speaking again and Thomas had to force his horse closer to hear what he was saying. To him it almost sounded as if the sergeant was muttering to himself. “Marcel started the whole rotten business. I suppose it was to be expected. A soldier, young at that, with a fancy big gun often believes that he can accomplish anything.” Gerald spat into the darkness. “The fool roughed her up. He tied her up and slapped her around a bit.” Turning to look at Thomas, with wet, twinkling eyes Gerald sighed softly. “Boy, what we did then was wring and that is why we are cursed. Nobody stopped him. Oh, of course the barkeep tried to but, we shoved him to the ground and proceeded to beating him.”

“Boy, may you never do something as foolish as we did that day. We didn’t liberate a small, forgotten village. We brought only blood and death to peaceful folk.”

Silence as the horses panting filled the air around them. Wrinkling his nose, Thomas sneezed loudly, the heavy helmet slipping down and covering his eyes.