“They’re coming!” he hissed. George froze for a moment before shooing the boy out. “Get on to the stables and see to Donald. Remember, he works in the stables, and he has the grippe.” The boy nodded and ran out. By now, I was on my feet and following him. George and Elinor brought up the rear. “Where are they?” I asked the boy, who pointed toward the front door before turning for the kitchen, the closest exit to the stables. George pulled the door open, and Elinor and I hurried outside. A small sea of red, black and muddy uniforms appeared from the side of the castle, some breaking off to head for the kitchen entrance. Bedraggled and wet, the soldiers looked exhausted. I waited on the steps and searched for Stephen. Hard to find in the mass of uniforms, I finally spotted his tall frame. I froze. Stephen led two soldiers toward the house, followed by Major Swift and Captain Whistler. The soldiers carried a makeshift litter. The body on the litter did not wear red and white. Stephen stopped and looked up at me.
