The Battle of Shrewsbury [Werewolf AU]

[tiltingwithlips]

The day of the battle dawns cloudy and cold. The men on both sides form up as the sun rises behind the clouds, facing each other across a field of gray snow in orderly ranks.

When battle is joined, most semblance of that order disintegrates. The leaders of each army range here and there about the field, directing their troops, and soon the snow is churned and brown with mud and blood.

Most of the soldiers are too busy fighting for their lives to notice the gray wolf creeping around the edges of the battlefield, crouched low to the ground, her hackles raised and lips pulled back in a snarl. Kate has never seen a battle. It's not exactly what she was expecting.

Comments

[valiantrebel]

Despite -- all the hardship of the day, Hal finds his mouth is twitching. "Hath Heaven had a dram's worth of dealings with thee today? Lord, we must all start small, even him."

[tiltingwithlips]

"More than that," Falstaff insists, offended. "Why, I should say that our Lord hath blessed me with a saint's virtue, but that to say so would be pride and so unbefitting a man of my stature."

[valiantrebel]

"And such stature!" Hal laughs. "Let's hear more, then. To what feat may we ascribe this angels' touch?"

John still looks extremely dubious and unimpressed.

[tiltingwithlips]

"Why, Hal -- you saw it yourself, did you not?"

Falstaff is suddenly uncharacteristically serious, peering at Hal.

"I fought today with none other than the devil come to drag Percy to his reward."

[valiantrebel]

Whatever merriment was in Hal's face plummets away.

"To say a thing is the devil, Jack, is a grave undertaking."

John's brow furrows deeper. "What's this?"

[tiltingwithlips]

"As grave as Percy finds himself now, I wot. And what else would you call that slavering beast? A terror it was, sir," he says to John, "or would be to any lesser man. It sprang from the ground, aye, I say, from the very ground itself, and roared for Percy's soul!"

[valiantrebel]

"Saw you such a beast, brother?"

Hal sighs. "I met a beast when I felled Percy. My armor is the proof, though I think more it was his flesh it was after."

[tiltingwithlips]

"Body and soul it took him," Falstaff intones. "Qua erat demostradum, God in Heaven cannot abide such a rebel!"

[valiantrebel]

Hal's eyebrows go up, and not merely at Falstaff's Latin. "And once it had so taken Hotspur, that was when you launched your assault?"

[tiltingwithlips]

"'Swounds, Hal, it did turn to me," Falstaff says, "as if it would devour me as well. But I stood firm! For," he says, pressing a hand to his heart, "as a virtuous man, I knew the Lord would not desert me, and strike me down if the devil did not recognize it too, for it cowered, I tell you, it cowered. 'Avaunt,' says I, 'and back unto the pit with thee!' Oh, it did not like that, I tell you. It came at me then, but it could not touch me -- such things can never touch a man of piety!" He gives Hal's armor a look down his nose. "And I should say to you, Hal, look to your soul, Hal, afore it is too late. But I stray from my tale."

[valiantrebel]

John opens his mouth, but Hal quickly shushes him. "I thank thee for thy pains, Jack. I pray you, instruct us further."

[tiltingwithlips]

Falstaff folds his hands over his belly, nodding importantly.

"It came at me, I say, and I stood firm. When it saw I would not be moved, it roared again, and let me never touch another drop of sack if the ground itself did not split before me! Oh, such a sight would harrow any man, but I say it would do many a man's soul good to see whither he might be taken if he stray from righteousness, as did that foul rebel Percy. For into that dreadful crack did the beast descend, and with Percy in its jaws -- and when the crack closed, why, I thanked the Lord that gave my arm the strength to rid England of such a villain."

[valiantrebel]

 

 

 

John blinks. "This is the strangest tale that ever I heard."

Hal hangs his head and laughs softly. "This is the strangest fellow, brother John." He gives Falstaff a long-suffering smile. "Why then, that's Percy dispensed, and Falstaff reformed. If the Hotspur be too tiresome for Hell and its devils to bear, perhaps we may look to see if he's been tossed back. But I think he must be gone, if Sir John speaks any truth in his life."

Under his light tone, though, lingers something uneasy, itching like the skin beneath his boots.

[tiltingwithlips]

"I say 'tis true," Falstaff says, "but I'll forgive you, my good Hal, if you'll say a good word to your father for me. Man does not live on the grace of God alone."

[valiantrebel]

Hal's mouth thins. "No, but he may die or live by the grace of the king, as many a Percy's found out today."

He side-eyes Falstaff. "When the Lord gave thee strength to rid us of the rebel? Strength so great that a demon dared not engage thee?"

[tiltingwithlips]

Falstaff huffs.

"Even so, Hal, even so!"

[valiantrebel]

Hal fails to smile. "My father will be well pleased to hear why Percy's body will not be produced, and why we may not give his widow the comfort of burying him. Perhaps it may serve thy soul better if I spoke to a canon and not the king. Unless it were best to lead the royal party to the site of Percy's demise, and witness that grace which touched thee and not him."

[tiltingwithlips]

At that, Falstaff pales a little.

"Nay, Hal, by my troth -- it is as unholy a place as any I have been. Do not speak of going back again."

For once, he sounds absolutely serious, without any of his usual bravado.

[valiantrebel]

"I sorrow that thou'rt unblessed so soon, Jack, to fear a place that brought thee no harm. Yet," and he sighs, "if those trumpets I now hear belong to my father, we need no longer fear; the day is ours." He readjusts his hold on John, and straightens. "Come, brother, let us to the highest of the field, to see what friends are living, who are dead."

[tiltingwithlips]

That's a relief. Falstaff certainly thinks himself brave for having faced down that wolf -- but one act of bravery for the day is quite enough for him.



When the sounds of battle finally fade and stop, Kate seizes the opportunity to creep out to the edge of the field. Harry shouldn't stay lying on the cold ground, but she can't possibly pull him all the way back to the camp.

Disgusting as it is, then, it's time to rob some corpses of their cloaks. Befouled as some of them are, they're still warmer than nothing. She finds three suitable bodies -- two of the king's army, one of theirs -- rips the cloaks from their shoulders, and drags them back to her hiding place. It's slow, tense going, and her jaw aches by the time she gets back to Harry.

[valiantrebel]

Harry always thought himself lucky that he had never taken grievous sick; he was as hale and hearty as the stubbornest goat, his nurse once said, when he was still a boy. He knows little of what it means to lie abed and quake with fever or lose sight of the border 'tween dreams and the waking world.

This time when -- he believes -- his eyes snap oen, he seems to perceive that the light is fading and all that sounds is the wind. Has he dreamed that Kate was with him? He struggles to lift his head.

[tiltingwithlips]

There's the sound of paws in the snow, and something dragging -- and then a cold wet nose nudges his throat, and a warm wet tongue swipes his cheek.

[valiantrebel]

He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a gutteral hiss.

His insides churn.

[tiltingwithlips]

Oh, her heart.

She licks his cheek again, then drags one of the cloaks over him.

. . . It's really not easy to tuck someone in when all you have handy is your teeth and your paws.

[valiantrebel]

Harry squeezes his eyes shut.

His mouth moves, silently at first, but after a great deal of concentration: "...what."