November 28, 1779 - Continued
Meanwhile, Cassandra was standing in a field near the Western Woods, listening for any sounds of gunfire or cannonballs, hoping to hear the glorious cries of men fighting their enemies from across the sea. The red-headed barmaid had managed to sneak away from her father's tavern by weaving a tale about helping the Van Tassel family with their farm. Unbeknown to her, Cassandra was being watched by a winged creature with feathers black as midnight, a bird of ominous nature. The raven kept quiet and out of sight as she watched over the woman who longed to break free from the traditional ways of her people. The role of a housewife didn't suit her at all, and she wished to leave town and do something useful with her life, but no matter how much she desired it, the idea of Cassandra leaving her father and best friend behind advised her against leaving the safety of Sleepy Hollow.
Hearing a twig snap, Cassandra turned around and looked towards the trees. "Hello?" She called out. "Is someone there?" She waited for a voice to answer back, but no one responded. No sound came from the forest, and nobody revealed themselves to her. For a moment, Cassandra thought it was just a figment of her imagination, but when she turned around, she found herself in the presence of a uniformed man, who grabbed her arm with one hand and placed his free hand over her mouth to silence her in case she started screaming.
"Please, don't shout!" The uniformed man begged her. "Please, I beg you."
Cassandra's eyes searched the face of her offender and realized that it was none other than the young man who came to the tavern nearly two weeks ago with his brother to look for recruits. It was Richard Vallingby.
"Forgive me for frightening you, Miss Mortner", said Richard, removing his hand at once, allowing her to breath.
"What are you doing here?" Cassandra questioned.
"I-I was l-l-lost in the woods", Richard answered, shakily. "I was...b-being chased by British soldiers and thought I could lose them by escaping into the woods. I succeeded, but now I can't seem to find my way back."
"I beg pardon, Mr. Vallingby, but why is it you've chosen to run away from danger rather than face it? Have you no courage? No loyalty to your fellow countrymen?"
"Please, Miss Mortner, you must believe me-"
"You were conscripted to join the Army, were you not?" Cassandra asked him, harshly. "You chose to fight willingly, did you not?"
"Yes, but-"
"Then why do you flee the battle and leave your brothers-in-arms to die? If Colonel Vallingby knew-"
"I'm not my brother!" Richard shouted.
"That much is certain", Cassandra quipped.
Movement from the trees caught their eyes, as Cassandra and Richard looked to the Western Woods and saw a figure coming out, both of them surprised to see that it was Lillian who emerged.
"Lily?" Cassandra questioned.
"Miss Waise..." Richard went over to the dark-haired woman at once, embracing her and holding her tightly against his chest. "Thank God", he praised. "I never thought I would see you again."
Lillian put her hands on his chest and pushed Richard away, asking him, "What are you doing here? You should be out on the battlefield, fighting."
"To Hell with fighting!" Richard declared. "I am a poet, not a soldier. If those fools want to die out there, that's their problem. I will not be-"
Lillian cut his sentence short by slapping him in the face, making it the second time that morning she silenced a man with a hard, swift motion of her hand. Cassandra gasped in shock at seeing her friend strike a soldier.
"You speak ill of one soldier, you speak ill of them all", said Lillian. "My father fought and died honorably during the last war. There was one thing he was not, and that is what you are: a coward."
"That's enough, Lillian!" Cassandra commanded. "Mr. Vallingby, please forgive her. Lillian is a strong-minded woman and forgets whom she's speaking to."
Just then, the three of them were alerted to the sound of hoofbeats approaching. Lillian assumed it was the Hessian, thinking he might have changed his mind and followed after her, but that was wishful thinking on her part, for it was not the man she loved who came into view, but Albert. He came galloping on horseback and stopped in front of the three, dismounting from his horse and putting his hands on his hips, his brow furrowed.
"What is the meaning of this?" Albert demanded.
"A deserter, Mr. Vaughn", Cassandra answered, pointing a finger at Richard. "This man ran away from battle, thinking he could avoid the duties and responsibilities of his commission, and neither I, nor Lillian, are willing to stand for it. I suggest you ride back to town and report him to Mr. Van Garrett. He has the authority, I'm sure he can send someone from New York and see to it that this man hangs for treason."
"You're mad", said Richard, earning a death glare from Cassandra. He looked to Lillian and said, "She's barking mad!"
"No, I believe Cassandra is right", said Lillian. "You are a soldier and have a code to keep to. By breaking that code, you make a bad reputation for yourself, and the men who enlisted you."
"Young man, I think it's best you return to the battlefield where you belong", said Albert. "No one need know of your deceitfulness."
"Somebody ought to know about this", Cassandra inputted, stepping towards Richard. "If necessary, I'll write a letter to your brother. He'll find a way to deal with you, I'm sure."
Richard tightened his lips, his eyes turning watery upon hearing her mention that. "He won't be able to receive it, being that my brother is dead", he whispered. "The Hessian killed him this morning."
Cassandra fell silent and stared at Richard for a moment, feeling her heartbeat slow down as she took two steps back and turned herself away, casting her eyes to the ground.
"That's not possible", Lillian whispered to herself.
Richard turned to her and shouted, "It is possible! I saw it with my own two eyes!"
Albert grabbed Albert by the front of his coat. "Don't you talk to her that way!"
"Don't", said Lillian, touching Albert's arm, which earned her a glance from him. "He's not worth it."
Albert returned his gaze to Richard, who pulled himself out of the stronger man's grip and straightened his uniform. "I'll go now, but I leave here with a promise", he said. "The next time I see that heathen, my face will be the last thing he sees before he dies. The Hessian killed my brother. Therefore, I shall avenge Robert's death by killing him. The next time I see that bastard, he's dead. When the next battle comes, I'm going to kill him!"
Lillian opened her mouth to protest, but no words past her lips. She wanted to warn Richard about going up against the Hessian, but thought it wise not to show any concern and let him learn a lesson the hard way.
Without another word, Richard turned around and walked away, heading back to his encampment even thought the battle was not over.
Cassandra continued staring at the ground, shocked at hearing news of the death of Robert Vallingby. She admired him for his loyalty, patriotism and honorable devotion to his country, but never thought he would die by the sword belonging to the one man who stroke fear into people's hearts. Her loathing for the Hessian Horseman increased tenfold, as well as her own fear of him, yet despite her wanting to put an end to his reign of terror and seek out her own act of revenge, her anxious heart failed to do anything except make her lose consciousness.
Lillian turned around and ran over to Cassandra, kneeling down to see if she was all right. Albert came over and knelt beside the unconscious woman, checking her neck for a pulse and finding a slow heartbeat.
"She fainted", said Albert. "We need to get her back to town immediately." Scooping her up into his arms, Albert lifted Cassandra's body off the ground and went to put her on the horse before mounting the steed.
"Are you coming, Lillian?" Albert asked her.
"Don't worry about me", Lillian answered, rising up. "Ride back to the village as fast as you can. I'll follow you."
Albert nodded, securing his arm around Cassandra's waist, grabbing hold of the reins with his free hand before turning the horse around to ride back to Sleepy Hollow.
Lillian stayed behind and turned around to look back at the forest, lifting her head up to look at the ebony creature perched on a branch in a tree. The raven blinked, turning her head to look away from her human mistress.
"Simara...", Lillian began to approach the raven, regretful tears filling her eyes. "Simara, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"
Simara didn't allow her to finish, as she took to the sky and flew over Lillian, who watched her fly away from the field. The raven was leaving, and not because winter was approaching. Simara was angered, and the pathetic apologies of a human girl were meaningless to a creature like her. If her ungrateful mistress saw her as nothing more than a nuisance, than Simara no longer felt the need to serve or protect her from danger.
Later that night, Lillian sat in her room, brushing her hair as she looked out the window, keeping watch in case Simara came back, but she never did. The young woman blamed herself, realizing she made a mistake by taking her anger out on Simara, scaring her away. She wished she could take back everything she said to the raven, heeding her warning so she wouldn't have lost a friend, which brought her encounter with the Hessian to attention.
Lillian stood up and went over to the chest at the foot of her bed and knelt down to open the lid, setting the hairbrush inside and picking up the black shirt the Hessian gave her the morning after those three men stole her and raped her. Rubbing her thumbs against the material brought back the memory of that horrible night, as screams of pain echoed inside her head. Gasping, Lillian closed her eyes and sat down on the floor, burying her face into the dark fabric and breathing in the Hessian's scent to help calm herself down, remembering how kind and considerate he was in taking care of her, nursing her back to health.
Just then, Lillian felt a cold wind blowing and lifted her head to find herself sitting in a clearing, experiencing a vision. She saw the dead, twisted tree again, but this time, there was something different about it. She wasn't sure what this was about, but stood up at once and felt her grip on the shirt loosen, as the material dissolved in her hands, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. As she went to approach the tree, Lillian noticed a sword was sticking out of the trunk and climbed up to examine the blade, which was rusted and covered in vines, the handle resembling the head of a snake. It was the Hessian's sword.
"Why are you so determined to prove this man is not what he seems?" Asked the voice of Nikolas, who stood behind his daughter.
"Because I love him", Lillian answered. "Is it a crime now for a person to love somebody?"
"It is never a sin to love your enemy, but your obsession has blinded you to the truth. You claim to love the Hessian, yet you are just as fearful of him as everyone else. You've seen him for what he is and know how many lives he's taken, yet you chose to ignore the unrighteousness in his heart. The Hessian is a villain and a murderer, and that is all he will ever be."
Lillian felt her father place a hand on her shoulder, but did not look at him.
"If you continue to pursue him, you will truly die of a broken heart", Nikolas told her. "No good can come from loving a murderer."
Lillian turned her head to look up at him and confessed, "I told him to kill a child. Was it wicked of me, Father?"
"You know the nature of Mary Archer as well as I do", said Nikolas. "Whether he kills her or not, the Hessian is a doomed man. No matter how much you desire him to live, nothing you do will be able to save him."
Lillian felt tears roll down her face when he said that and looked away. "Then I do not wish to see him again", she whispered. "If that is the way things are to be, then I am no longer in his debt."
"You never were."
"Am I forgiven, Father?"
"You are, but remember: Seek not to be like evil men, nor desire to be with them", Nikolas recited, quoting a biblical scripture. It was all he could say to comfort his child, who felt lost as a lamb strayed too far from the flock.
Nikolas removed his hand from his daughter's shoulder, then turned to jump down from the tree, landing on the ground. He straightened his body and turned to look up at the dead tree, his deep brown eyes focused on the serpent-handled weapon sticking out of the trunk like a festering sore. He heard wings flapping and felt sharp claws digging into his left shoulder. Turning his head to see who it was, Nikolas recognized it was Simara, who blinked and looked at the handsome, rugged-faced man, who greeted her with a gentle stroke to her silken breast.
"You've done well, my friend", said Nikolas.
Simara flapped her wings and cawed something to him, which he seemed to understand.
"I know, but you must forgive her", said Nikolas. "She knows not what she does."
Simara cawed softly, closing her eyes and lowering her head as though she were saddened. Nikolas comforted the raven by tenderly caressing her breast once more, looking just as somber as she was.
"I know, but Lillian still needs you", said Nikolas. "Keep watch over her for me. She will understand everything soon enough."
Simara looked at Nikolas, who raised his hand up towards the heavens and allowed the raven to fly away, soaring off into the sky as miniature bits of cottonlike fuzz descended upon the forest surrounding the sleepy, little town.