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They found him on the battlefield with his eyes open. That was where they had left him. A wound in his side and a wound in his leg. A grey sky hung over the field at Shrewsbury as they closed his eyes, wrapped him in an old cloth, and tossed the body on to the carriage.
Kate clutched the letter in her hands. Her heart soared. Her husband was finally coming home. She wanted to run down the stairs, but she remembered that she must be careful. Kate was anxious to see Harry and tell him the surprise. After she slowly descended the staircase she hugged Northumberland and his wife, Elizabeth. They smiled brightly, but there was something about their eyes that didn’t match their smiles. She paid no mind.
Kate took a seat at the table, and Harry’s mother sat next to her.
“Do you think he’ll be excited?”
Elizabeth paused. “I know he will.”
Kate looked out the window. Even though Harry could be a pain sometimes, it would be all worth it to see his silly crooked grin once more. And she’d kiss him, and probably scold him for his clothes being dirty. He would reply with, “How now, Kate? I’ve not seen you for two months and already you pester me about my clothes.” But he would smile, and kiss her, and at dinner he’d joke about not having a hot meal for so long to come back to his mother’s cooking. Then they would sit by the fire, and Harry would tell Kate about the war, scowling at the Prince's name. Then after Harry had finally finished talking, Kate would tell him the news. Then he'd kiss Kate over and over (To make up for the two months he'd been gone, of course.) and Kate would play with his curly mess of hair until they fell asleep in each other's arms.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of horses. There was a soft knock at the door. Kate swiftly got up out of her chair and opened the door, only to find her brother, Mortimer standing there instead.
“Mortimer!” She hugged him tightly. He slowly put his arms around her and they stood there silently for several minutes. When Kate let go, she noticed the somber expression written on Mortimer's face. He didn't look like he had before the war had happened. His eyes were hollow. What mirth there had been there was now replaced with grief, and like a ghost, he stood unmoving in the doorway. Kate's face fell.
“What seems to be the matter?"
Mortimer gave no answer. He stared blankly at the wall behind Kate.
"Is the war over?"
Again, there was no answer.
"For God's sake, Edmund, say something!"
Her eyes wandered over to the carriage behind her brother.
"Where's Harry?"
Mortimer's eyes now stared at Kate. He shakily took hold of Kate's hands and gripped them tightly.
“Harry is dead.” He said suddenly. “He died on the battlefield. The Prince killed him.” His words seemed to hang in the air like thick fog. Kate's breaths became quicker, and her heart pounded against her ribs so much, she thought they would all break.
"No. . ." she breathed. "Tha-That's impossible!" She raised her voice "Don't play games with me, Edmund! This is serious!"
“Kate, this isn't a game. I’m sorry.” Mortimer said. He signaled behind him, and two men from the carriage came in carrying a body. They gently placed him on the table. Kate knelt beside the corpse and without a word, she slowly pulled back the cloth that covered its face. She quickly turned her head aside. After a few minutes, she slowly turned back to look at the corpse. Blood crusted his pale lips and dirty clothes, but Kate couldn't see behind the tears welling up in her eyes. Looking down at him softly, she kissed his cold lips. Tears dripped from her eyes onto his face as she cracked a small smile.
“Oh, darling, look at you. You’re filthy.” Kate brushed back a stray curl in his face. She whipped around to meet Northumberland’s sad gaze.
“You knew?"
Northumberland nodded.
“And you?” She looked at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth gave a sad smile.
Kate looked back down at Harry and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Why couldn’t you take me with you?” she whispered softly to him. Kate wanted to scream but she couldn't find the voice to do it. She wanted to hit something, but she knew that wouldn't be what Harry would want. If anything, Harry's ghost would rise from the grave to complain about the quality of the cloth he was wrapped in.
She could have sworn she felt a hand on her shoulder, but Mortimer was still in the doorway.
“I know this is difficult, especially now that you are” he paused, “with child. My condolences.” He walked over to Kate and kissed her on the head, then he made his way back to the door, and nodded at Harry’s parents, who stood in the very corner of the room.
Kate heard the door close, but she had her head buried in Harry’s neck. She tried not to think about the lack of warmth on his skin. She tried not to think about how she’d never hear his voice utter her name again. She tried not to think about how she’d never feel his arms around her again. She tried not to, but she failed.
After a while, Elizabeth made her way over to Kate and broke the silence.
“What will you name the child?” She asked quietly.
Kate stayed still, then she slowly looked out at the gray sky.
“Harry.” She said, barely above a whisper. “I won’t lose him this time.”