Once a Soldier

by Mary Jo Putney

  “Scots have . . . hard heads,” he managed before his eyes closed again.

  Athena used the knife Sofia had brought to slice a towel into smaller pieces. “Did you bring a flask of brandy on this trip? We need some to clean the wounds.”

  “No Alcantara travels without brandy.” Sofia tried to smile before returning to her saddlebags for a silver flask engraved with the Alcantara arms. When she returned with it, she sat on Justin’s other side and gripped his hand with hers as if she could heal him by sheer force of will.

  Athena cleaned Justin’s head wound again, then opened the brandy flask. “Justin, this will hurt, but it’s necessary to prevent infection.”

  “Save some . . . for me to drink,” he whispered.

  “You’re a credit to your Scots ancestors.” She trickled the brandy over the head wound, then bandaged a fabric pad over it.

  Turning her attention to the knife slash, she cleaned it first with water. The bleeding had already slowed. “Like the head wound, this is messy but not deep, Sofi,” she said reassuringly.

  “That’s because the French soldier didn’t know the proper way to knife a man.” The voice was Will’s and Athena looked up to see him striding across the clearing toward them.

  Easygoing Will had been transformed into a cool, lethal officer, a man who could react to danger in a heartbeat. An officer with blood staining the white shirt under his open red military jacket. Athena’s heart almost stopped at the sight. Even though he was walking easily and had several long French rifles in one arm, she could barely breathe.

  He said reassuringly, “Not my blood, but how is Justin?” He frowned at the sight of his friend.

  “A bullet graze on the head, a knife wound down my chest, neither very serious if Athena is to be believed,” Justin said in a thin, rasping voice. “What, pray tell, is the correct way to knife a man?”

  “Hold the dagger underhand and strike upward,” Will explained as he set down his carbine and the collected French rifles. “One is much more likely to strike vital organs that way. Your attacker stabbed downward and hit mostly bone over your shoulder and ribs. Poor training, for which we can all be grateful. I agree with Athena. Your injuries look messy and painful, but no lethal damage.”

  “Thank God!” Sofia breathed out; her face was ghost pale.

  Athena felt much the same. When this was over, she wanted to find a place where she could quietly faint. Or scream.

  Later. Over the years she’d had experience treating injuries and those skills were needed now, but there was no reason for Sofia to see her beloved being treated for wounds that could have killed him. “Justin is doing well, Sofi,” Athena said. “You don’t need to watch the rest of the bandaging process.”

  “You’re right. It isn’t good for a princess to tremble like a blancmange,” Sofia said with unsteady humor. After brushing a light kiss on Justin’s forehead, she stood and moved to her saddlebags, then folded onto the ground and buried her head on her crossed arms as she drew deep, slow breaths.

  When Will moved closer to help with Justin, Athena saw that he had a nasty powder burn on the left side of his neck. She swallowed hard and tried to sound calm. “The blood might not be yours, but I see you were almost shot in the throat.”

  “Almost doesn’t count with bullets,” he said with a shrug. “Do you need more brandy, or is Sofia’s flask sufficient?”

  “Save yours for drinking,” she advised. “We’ll all need some.”

  “Use Will’s brandy for medicinal purposes,” Justin murmured, his eyes closed. “Sofi’s is better for drinking.”

  “I am corrected by the expert,” Athena said, amused as she twisted the top back on the royal flask. “Will, besides getting your brandy, do you have some old garment that can be used for a bandage around Justin’s chest? The towels aren’t long enough.”

  Will foraged in his saddlebags and produced a worn brandy flask and a long white cravat, which was well suited to bandaging. As he returned with them, he said, “I didn’t know that treating the wounded was one of your many skills, Athena.”

  “I don’t faint at the sight of blood, so I’ve been pressed into service before,” she explained as she patted a clean towel along the knife wound. Justin’s bleeding had largely stopped.

  “My brother faints at the sight of blood,” Will said as he opened his more humble brandy. “Mac is a big, broad fellow like me, so he finds it a great embarrassment.”

  “I’ve seen other big, broad men faint like that. I’m glad you’re not one of them.” She smiled crookedly. “That would be inconvenient.”

  As Athena applied brandy along the knife slash, Justin jerked before forcing himself to calm. “Can I have some of Sofi’s brandy?” he asked in a strained voice.

  “You’re a brandy snob,” Will said as he opened the Alcantara flask and carefully poured a small amount into Justin’s mouth.

  Justin swallowed. “It’s my job. Just like yours is remaining vigilant as you’re doing now.” He took the flask from Will’s hand and sipped more.

  Athena realized that Justin was right. Though Will was relaxed enough to banter, at the same time he was keeping sharp watch on everything around them.

  As she finished bandaging Justin’s chest and spread a blanket over him, she asked, “Will, do you know how many attackers there were? Were they all wearing French uniforms? If so, don’t they know the war is over?”

  “All the men I saw wore shabby, battle-worn uniforms. My guess is that not everyone in the army wanted to surrender, so this lot turned to banditry,” he said with a frown. “As to how many, there are five dead men that I know of, but I found six saddled horses back along the track and I see that you collected a French rifle. What happened?”

  “One came after me when I took cover behind that boulder,” she said. “My gun was empty, so I bashed him with the stock. He went down hard, but I don’t think I killed him.” She hoped to God that she hadn’t. Shooting Sofia’s captor was more than enough death dealing for one day. “I’m sorry, I forgot all about the fellow.”

  “I hope he didn’t wake up and run off. It’s time we got some answers.” Will rose and went in the direction indicated, returning a few moments later hauling Athena’s victim with a strong grip under the fellow’s arms.

  The French soldier was groaning and starting to move. Will propped him against a boulder in a sitting position, then tied his wrists with a handkerchief. He was skinny and underfed, more boy than man. Athena gave silent thanks that he was still alive.

  In fluent French, Will asked, “Who are you and why are you in San Gabriel?”

  The boy groaned again and didn’t answer. Across the clearing, Sofia rose and claimed the basin, scooped it full of cold spring water, then dumped it over the French soldier’s head. As he sputtered and swore and thrashed about, Sofia withdrew and watched him with narrowed falcon eyes.

  Will gave Sofia an approving nod. “Now that we have your attention, I ask again. Who are you and what brought you to this remote area to attack innocent people?”

  The Frenchman stared at Will hopelessly. “Why should I talk? You will kill me anyhow.”

  “Not necessarily,” Will said calmly. “Let us begin with names. I’m Major Will Masterson. And you are . . .” When the Frenchman hesitated, Will asked, “What harm can it do to tell me your name?”

  Reluctantly the boy said, “Jean Marie Paget.”

  “Thank you. Your uniform has the markings of a corporal. Is that accurate?”

  “I was to be made a sergeant after . . .”

  When Jean Marie stopped, Will asked, “After what? I have a powerful desire to find out why French soldiers are so far from home. Or do you no longer consider yourself a soldier of France?”

  “Always!” the corporal spat out.

  “Even though your emperor has abdicated and disbanded his forces?”

  “Why should soldiers accept the command of a leader who has surrendered? One who sent countless Frenchmen to death and then
made a cowardly escape to safety. A true emperor would have died first!” The words sounded like the boy was quoting someone else.

  Will’s intuition sharpened. “So because he was angry at Bonaparte, your commander decided to turn his men into bandits.”

  “Not bandits!” the corporal said hotly. “The general has a plan. The valley of San Gabriel has only a weak, helpless princess as heir with no man to care for her. The general will marry the princess and give the valley the strong leadership it needs. All of us who have loyally supported him will receive land and women. I can be a man of consequence as I never could have been if I had stayed in Bordeaux!”

  As Sofia gasped, Will said acidly, “How very generous of the general. Did it not occur to him that the Gabrileños have plans of their own?”

  “Half the women in the valley are widows from the wars,” Jean Marie retorted. “They will welcome having real men in their beds and a strong leader on the throne. Once General Baudin marries the princess, all will be legal. Even she will surely welcome a real man to care for her and her country.”

  The name Baudin electrified the clearing. The Frenchman’s plan made damnable sense, Will realized. Baudin had seen this safe, remote valley and recognized that it would make a good retreat if and when Napoleon surrendered. By removing the king and hereditary prince and leaving San Gabriel in the stewardship of an ailing old man, he’d left the country ripe for conquest. If Baudin married Sofia, no other country would bother to interfere, not when all were busy binding the wounds of war.

  Eyes raging, Sofia joined Will and stared down at the French soldier. “The royal princess of San Gabriel will never welcome a swine like Baudin into her bed,” she spat out. “If he tries to force her, she’ll slit his throat. I guarantee it!”

  Chapter 25

  Jean Marie stared, entranced by Sofia’s glossy dark hair and exquisite features. “The general said the princess is just a weak, silly young girl,” he said uncertainly. “He told us she will welcome his strength.”

  “I am Her Royal Highness Princess Sofia del Rosario de Alcantara,” she said in a steely voice. “If your general tries to lay a hand on me, I will cut it off. He devastated my land once before. I will not allow that to happen again!”

  “You can’t be the princess!” the Frenchman gasped.

  “Because I am not weak and helpless?” She smiled sweetly. “I was once, but that is no longer true. Your general is responsible for turning me from a butterfly into a lioness. And we lionesses protect and defend what is ours.”

  “He said that the princess lives in a great palace in the valley,” the boy faltered. “And . . . and princesses wear crowns!”

  “I have several tiaras, and at my coronation, I will wear the royal crown of San Gabriel. My people managed to hide the crown jewels from your general when he invaded my country last year.” Her brows arched delicately. “Normally, I live in the Castelo Blanco, but now my advisors and I are studying ways to strengthen my land.”

  Jean Marie’s eyes widened with horror as he realized that he and his fellow soldiers had attacked the royal princess and her advisors, and whoever commanded the French party had wanted to make her a camp whore. “N-no insult was meant, your highness,” he stammered. “General Baudin has the greatest respect and care for you. He would never want a hair on your head harmed.”

  “Then he should not have sent murderous scouting parties to my country. That is what you are, yes? Scouts?” When he nodded, she commanded, “Tell me your general’s plans for invasion.”

  White-faced, the corporal said, “I have already said too much.”

  Having watched Sofia with pure pleasure, Will said in a voice of command, “On the contrary, you have said too little. How far behind you is General Baudin? How many men does he have?”

  Jean Marie swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He stared at Sofia with hopeless worship, but his conflicting loyalty to his general was obvious.

  Changing her tactics, Sofia laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Corporal Jean Marie Paget. Your parents gave you the middle name Marie to invoke the special blessing of the Virgin Mother, yes?”

  When he nodded weakly, she continued, “San Gabriel is a land where the Blessed Mother is honored. Your General Baudin ravished my country last summer. He stole the sacred, beloved statue of the Queen of Heaven. Were you part of that assault?”

  He shook his head. “His brigade suffered many casualties and I was sent as a replacement after he rejoined the main army. Men who had been in San Gabriel told me what a pleasant place it was, how much they had enjoyed visiting. They said the country was ours for the taking.”

  “Visiting! I’m sure they liked that we could offer no resistance and we had plenty of food to steal,” Sofia snapped, unable to keep anger from her voice. “Did they tell you of the death and destruction they brought? The innocent Gabrileños who were killed? The burning of the vines and fields and homes? Why in the name of all that’s holy would they think they would be welcomed back?”

  He shrank back from her fury. “The men who had come through the valley made it sound like paradise. They said we would be greeted happily. We . . . I . . . wanted that. My family is dead, so I have nothing to return to in France. If you released me so I could go home, I’d be butchered by Spaniards who hate all Frenchmen.” He closed his eyes, saying bleakly, “Nothing. I have nothing. No life, no hope. Go ahead and kill me now as payment for the sins of my comrades! A British officer will surely kill more quickly than a Spanish guerilla.”

  Yes, very young, Will thought. And melodramatic with it. While he considered what approach to take, Sofia ordered, “Corporal Jean Marie Paget! Look at me!”

  When the young man’s eyes opened, she caught his gaze and said, “If you will give San Gabriel your loyalty, you can indeed have a life here, but only as yourself, not as part of a conquering army. You will have your freedom and I will find you work on the Alcantara estates. In time, you may win a wife and have a home and family of your own. In return, you will swear allegiance and tell us what you know about Baudin’s planned invasion.”

  When he hesitated, Athena approached with a tumbler of wine and the last two toasted ham-and-cheese sandwiches she’d made earlier. “Will, untie his hands so he can eat while he considers, because this is a great decision that will determine his life. You won’t try to hurt anyone, will you, Corporal Paget?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said meekly. “Not when you’ve been so kind to me.”

  Will sat back on his heels and watched in amusement. He had been prepared to do whatever was necessary to get vital information from the prisoner, but he much preferred the charm offensive of Sofia and Athena.

  Paget was clearly as dazzled by Athena as by Sofia, though in a different way. The young man almost inhaled the first sandwich. Even cold, it was probably the best meal he’d had in weeks.

  Then he took a swallow of wine. After a startled moment, he took a second swallow. “Your wine is very fine, Princess! As fine as the Bordeaux wines of my home, but with its own soul.”

  “Indeed it is fine,” Sofia said. “We are developing a means to transport our wines to Porto and then to Britain and beyond. When that happens, new lands higher in the valley will be cultivated. Men who know how to make good wine and work hard may become owners of their own vineyards.”

  “That could happen to me?” Jean Marie whispered.

  “It might,” Sofia said judiciously. “As heiress to the throne, I swear you will have opportunities to better yourself. But only if you pledge fealty to San Gabriel with a whole heart. And then work very hard. These are the same opportunities native-born Gabrileños have.”

  His resistance collapsed. “Forgive me for my sins against your country, Princess,” he whispered as he made the sign of the cross over his heart. “I swear loyalty to San Gabriel and to you. I will help you in any way I can.”

  Now that Sofia had won the young man’s heart and soul, it was time for more military matters. “How many men does Gen
eral Baudin command?” Will asked. “How well armed are they? Do you have field artillery?”

  Jean Marie frowned. “Less than a battalion. Between five and six hundred men. General Baudin commanded a full brigade, but the casualties were heavy at Toulouse, and when he decided to head west to San Gabriel, he had to move out very quickly and he could not wait for more men to join him.”

  He paused to bite into the second sandwich. This time he ate more slowly, savoring the smoky taste of the cheese and ham and the crunch of the toasted bread. “All the troops are armed with rifles and there is a good supply of ammunition, but the field artillery pieces were lost fording a river in Spain.”

  That was a definite plus. Will asked, “When does Baudin plan to invade?”

  “In . . .” The corporal paused to calculate. “Five days. At dawn on Sunday because the general thinks the Gabrileños will be at church and easily caught unaware.”

  Every fiber in Will’s body tensed. Five days until the arrival of the doom he’d been sensing. “How does he plan to enter the country? The main road from Spain?”

  “Yes, we scouted the mountain passes and that is the only route that will allow us—him—to march in fast enough to take the country by surprise.”

  Will had come that route himself. His mind spinning with possibilities, he said, “It’s time for a council of war. Corporal Paget, I do not wish to suggest that I don’t trust your solemn oath. But you need time to adjust to becoming a Gabrileño. I will not ask you to fight against your comrades.”

  Jean Marie breathed a sigh of relief. “I thank you for that. My loyalty is now to San Gabriel, but I do not want to shoot at men who were friends.”

  Will glanced at Sofia. “Assuming her royal highness agrees, you are no longer a prisoner. You may leave if you wish, but you’ll go without your horse, your rifle, or any other weapons.”

  “I agree,” Sofia said firmly. “If you stay, it must be of your own will, Corporal.”