Chapter 145: Disarmed
It was a hot day, so suffocating that it almost caused the millions of Scottish soldiers who were about to surround the northern border of the nation to fall from exhaustion.
Those had been tiring days, while most of the English troops had had time to place their weapons, troops and cannons on the border, the Scots had had to cross the border mountains and camp at night in the woods.
At the head of the Scottish army was Rudolph Whiteblossom, descendant of the noble family, who even at his young age had had to take sides with his family in every way as his father was unable to move at that moment.
The sun was beating hard, shining on the boy's pale skin, reflected in his grey eyes, illuminated the young aristocrat's thick, auburn hair.
Rudolph was almost sixteen and at that moment he was sitting on a white horse, fighting in cavalry on behalf of his family.
Although his father initially refused all that, to risk his son's life in battle, he had no other choice, the soldiers would not have achieved the same result if their commander hadn't been fighting with them.
Sixteen years old and already Rudolph was in command of six military battalions which on that same day were supposed to kill and exterminate the British army in battle.
They did not pass the border yet, it would not be safe for them, as as soon as they crossed the dividing line the British would simply start shooting at them, they had to act calmly and cunningly.
Only one thing was not clear to the young man: among the troops deployed of the British army, he could not notice the presence of their ruler, princess Isabelle, he expected at least to be able to see her at least once, to kill her in person after all those years, for what she had done, but she was simply not there.
So what kind of ruler let his troops fight without any support?
At his side stood other members of the cavalry: the so-called flag holders, who in their hands trembling with fear clutched the Scottish banner of Saint Andrew on a blue background with a white cross that cut it from side to side.
He saw on the other side of the valley the ancient flag of England waving in the blue sky: on a white background with a red cross to be cut from side to side, but still no trace of Isabelle.
Beside him that day should have been the French battalions, which, abandoned by their prince, had left the scene perplexed.
No one was there to guide them, so he figured that the guaranteed power of 60% of the total militia would catastrophically end up being buried by ready British troops.
They were more, they had more weapons, more cannons and a more prepared battle technique as well as more trained and experienced generals.
Rudolph knew they had more chances of losing than winning but he vowed never to let his father down so this was one of his few choices to be made.
-Blow the horn!- the young man ordered to one of the flag holder next to him, he knew that after all it would have to begin.
If he had lost he would have been transported to Britain, locked up in a cell and most likely tortured until his death, if not worse, for that reason winning was also in his own interest.
The call of the horn was heard, the start of the battle had been announced.
In a whirlwind of fear the infantry had left before the cavalry and the horses frightened by the rumble of the guns had begun to wriggle, so much so that some of the soldiers had to force themselves on their saddles to avoid falling from below.
The French did not have a plan, they had simply followed the allies into battle and hoped for the best, also because, without any representative their chances of victory were also considerably diminished.
Rudolph was afraid, he had to admit, he galloped on the back of his horse, he looked ahead, he couldn't afford to look to the side, as hundreds of other men were being crushed by the heavy English cannonballs.
They had the cavalry and the English infantry now at hand: it was enough that he did his duty or he could never become a lord worthy of his own father.
The young baron slipped the musket which had previously been lying in its scabbard from his back, took it in his hands while his horse still continued to go.
It was difficult to aim with caution when the horse galloped with such fury, he noticed the red jackets pointed to a group of soldiers nearby, started to pull the trigger when something else stopped the boy's action.
Rudolph felt a great blow under him, a great pain in his back, a pain so great that not even anyone could imagine.
His big eyes widened in a moment, his pupils, in that brief moment in which he was thrown into the air by the impact he looked down, as the explosion in a few seconds made his horse's body disintegrate, he made it open and split into blood and entrails.
The young lord was thrown a few meters to the side, fell to the ground, hit his head on the hard ground.
It was horrible, his horse must have stepped on one of the underground mines made up of flammable gunpowder from the opposing army.
He had lost his horse, he was lost, he had a very low chance of survival.
He watched as the battle around him continued, he was dazed, a loud and annoying whistle had begun to bore his ears, his gaze began to blur around him.
His red hair was dirty from the earth, he looked behind him: his leg, what had happened to his leg?
He saw a long trail of blood having created behind him, a large pool starting to form it, his left leg was completely burned, his skin took a ark red colour, he could no longer feel it nor move it.
Rudolph tried to push himself with the help of his sore elbows further ahead, where a troop was busy fighting, he didn't want to give up but at the same time he felt it was impossible for him to continue.
He grabbed one of the rifles from the back of one of the enemy corpses, placed it on the ground but failed to fire.
A crowd of French soldiers had begun retreating in that direction, without realising that the young man on the ground was still alive, anxiously pushing the rifle away from him and inviolably trampling his body in flight.
Rudolph exhaled, his face was bruised and full of cuts, his hair dirty, his lips dirty from the earth, his aching arms and one of his legs burned by the explosion.
He knew he didn't have much chance of surviving, at least until he noticed him.
Michael had noticed the boy, his condition and despite being an ally of the Hannovers he had taken advantage of the ongoing battle going to the boy's rescue.
-Michael...- whispered the boy now more dead than alive -what are you doing here? Why are you helping me? You should kill me instead, my life no longer makes sense...- the young lord regretted as his friend had forcibly started tearing part of his shirt to put it on his wound.
He gripped the fabric so tightly around Rudolph's wound that for a few moments he couldn't even feel his burned leg.
-You say the same words as your father, it is impressive how much you are not related by blood but so similar...- the enemy admitted, tightening the young man's stump with oily and strong efforts -this should serve to stop the bleeding, at least for some time...-.
Rudolph looked briefly at the blue sky, still dazed, it was clear, magnificent, cloudless, he would have liked to have been able to see it more closely one day.
But now his life would be different, he didn't know if he would survive or at least if he could see his father again, smile at his arrival, be proud of him.
Salty tears began to water the young lord's eyes, they began to descend on his pale cheeks, until they fell to the ground, grass and dry floor.
-I...I just wanted to kill Isabelle...- Rudolph cried, smiling at the same time, as he watched, stunned and with his last strength, the immense and blue sky.
-No! - Michael resumed - I have very little time, Rudolph, and Glasgow is quite a short distance from here, just a couple of hours, take a horse and gallop away from here, as fast as possible, go back to your father ... -.
-No! - Michael resumed - I have very little time, Rudolph, and Glasgow is quite a short distance from here, just a couple of hours...take a horse and gallop away from here, as fast as possible, go back to your father!-.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Smiley_Lux
Smiley_Lux Good day, my name is Lucia and I am the author of this book. Do you like it by now?
I would really be grateful if you wanted to leave a recension for me (what you like or not) :)) it would be really helpful and constuctive.
Thanks!!!! :))))
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