by L. A. Meyer
I crouched beside him.
He stirred a bit, his legs thrashing about.
"Jaimy ... dear ... Everything's all right now ... Just rest..." Tears welled up and ran down my face as I brushed the hair from his wild eyes.
"Bess?" he said, looking about.
"No, Jaimy ... not Bess," I said, choking, thinking of the poor soul left lying back there in the dirt. "It's Jacky."
"Jacky? No ... you're dead..."
"No, I'm not, Jaimy, I—"
Davy sticks his head in the door.
"Ready to go, Jack. We'd best get moving."
"Right. I'll be only a second..."
I stand after placing a kiss upon Jaimy's brow.
"Get well, Jaimy. I'll be back, I will. I promise."
I feel Charlie's arm on mine.
"Do not worry, Little One. We will cure him and bring him back to you."
"Thank you, Charlie. Please, do what you can."
"Farewell, Small Round-Eyed Barbarian. We leave within the hour. I shall give your regards to Cheng Shih when next I see her. I am sure she will be full of inquiries about you and your well-being."
"Please do ... Oh, Charlie ... Sidrah..." I cry, the tears streaming down my face. "I so hate to see you go!"
A shake of the head and I am back in the First Lord's office.
"All right," continues Peel. "To sum it up, Mr. Fletcher shall be pardoned and your own life sentence has been overturned ... under the following condition."
I sit up straight and wait for it.
"You shall remain as an agent of Naval Intelligence. Lord Wellesley has been dispatched to Portugal as head of His Majesty's Army. Spain has joined our side. Apparently the Dons did not like Napoleon's installing his brother as King of Spain. It is rumored that Wellesley will soon be named Duke of Wellington for his service to the Crown. He will attack Boney's army from the south. You will be assigned to his staff as translator, your being fluent in both French and Spanish."
"And as Fly-on-the-Wall for Royal Naval Intelligence in the very heart of the Royal Army," I say, stating the obvious.
"Even so," says Peel.
"Very well," I say, rising. "I agree. May I go now?"
"Yes, you may. Prepare yourself. You leave in two days."
I leave the office to find Captain Richard Allen in the hallway, leaning against the wall, waiting.
He stands up straight, and I go over and place my hand upon his red-coated arm.
"To Portugal, Princess?" he asks, taking my hand and smiling that roguish smile of his.
"Yes, my lord, to Portugal," I say, and softly sing as we walk off toward whatever awaits us...
Over the hills and over the Main
To Flanders, Portugal, and Spain.
King George commands and we must obey,
Over the hills and far away...