Another Month, Perhaps Two

"Bring another horse, Heiglemann!" the Sergeant shouted over the ringing in my ears. Heiglemann reached for my reins and started to walk me up the muddy hill and to the gun. "No, not that one!" Heiglemann paused, glancing up at the Sergeant quizzically. "The big, black one," he ordered. Heiglemann's chubby hand tightened on the leather of the reins in a moment of hesitation. "Now, Private!"

Heiglemann gave a single, tight nod and swapped my reins for Topthorn's. I watched as the pair struggled up the slope and I could see that Topthorn was limping slightly. Our endless slouching through the mud had cost him dearly, it was clear to see; once he was a magnificent beast with a black coat that shone in the sunlight and now he was a dull black. It took him a great effort to reach the Segeant near the brow of the hill and my heart went out to him. If he could hardly carry himself then how was supposed to pull a heavy gun?

I could hear Heiglemann protesting. "But, sir, Prince – his leg," and here he pointed, "he is not strong enough." His protests I could understand, for Topthorn over these weeks had become the ex-butcher's favourite. They shared a bond; that of one old soldier to another. "He will not last."

The Sergeant narrowed his eyes. "You named him?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Heiglemann replied quietly, his gaze flicking to the muddy ground.

"You should never name anything you're certain to lose," the Sergeant said coldly. He waved a hand at the men around the gun horses. "Hook him up!"

"But, sir—"

"Do as you are told, Private," snapped the Sergeant.

"Yes, sir."

I was struck with a chilling sense of dread. The Sergeant's words from the first time we met rang in my ears: They look strong. They'll last a month, maybe two. I knew that Topthorn's spirit was strong but his health was failing him. Back when we first arrived in France all of those years ago, Topthorn was the one to help me. He kept me calm in this strange environment. I had to do something for him, to return the favour. I pulled my handler's hands loose of the reins and ran up the hill towards Topthorn, Heiglemann and the Sergeant. I jumped and kicked as I ran, putting on a show of strength which did not accurately reflect what I actually felt. I trotted past Topthorn and came to a stop beside the lead horse pulling the gun. I reared and neighed. I held my head high.

As I had hoped, Heiglemann leapt upon the excuse. "You see, sir?" He waved a hand at me. "This one is stronger, he will last longer."

"Mm," said the Sergeant. "Hook him up!" I could see the look of relief flash across Heiglemann's face before it was quickly hidden. As I was hooked up beside the lead horse I looked behind me to watch Topthorn as he limped back down the hill with Heiglemann.

As I heard the crack of the whip and took the strain along with my fellow horses, I grounded myself with thought that I had repaid my debt to my friend, if only partially. If he was lucky I had bought him another month, perhaps two; but whether this would be blessing or a curse to him I was yet to know.