Once a Soldier

by Mary Jo Putney

  Tom indeed had some thoughts. Most had been considered already, but he had a couple of useful new suggestions. The three of them discussed everything, bouncing ideas off each other. While the commanding officer always had the final word, Will would be a fool not to take advantage of his subordinates’ experience and ideas.

  By the time the discussion ended, Will had cleared his plate and was ready to leave. Then silence fell across the dining room as Sofia entered, looking very regal, a tiara on her head.

  Athena followed quietly, her expression serious, but wearing a delightful sunshine-yellow morning gown. Just looking at her made Will smile. Her warm, swift return glance did not suggest that she had any regrets about the previous night.

  Sofia raised her hand in a command for attention. “My friends, you all know the grave situation that faces us. We will work together to preserve San Gabriel and our way of life, but the burden will fall most heavily on our soldiers, who will face the enemy. William Masterson, Gilberto Oliviera, and Thomas Murphy, please come forward.”

  Surprised, the three men stood and crossed the room to face Sofia. “Gilberto Oliviera, you are now promoted to captain in the Army of San Gabriel. Step forward so I can attach the insignia of your rank.”

  Gilberto obeyed, saying under his breath, “You’re getting quite good at being royal, Sofi!”

  She smiled at her old playmate and said equally quietly, “Behave yourself or I might accidentally stab you while I pin this on.”

  He stood at attention and saluted her, saying with complete seriousness, “Your royal highness, I will do my duty to San Gabriel, even if it costs me my life.”

  “See that it doesn’t, you scamp!” his mother said in a voice that carried through the room and produced a ripple of laughter.

  Suppressing a smile, Sofia said, “Thomas Murphy, you have embraced this land as your own. I now commission you as a captain in the Army of San Gabriel.”

  “I am honored, your royal highness,” he said firmly. After the princess pinned on the insignia, he saluted her crisply.

  Then it was Will’s turn. “Major Lord Masterson, in the brief time you’ve been in San Gabriel, you have already done much to help my country rebuild from the devastation of war,” Sofia said in ringing tones. “Now by virtue of your experience and skill, I appoint you commander in chief of the Army of San Gabriel. You said that you never wished to be a general, so I give you the rank of colonel.”

  She stepped up to him with the insignia of rank. She was so very small.

  “Any rank will do, as long as it’s higher than the others,” he said with a smile.

  “Indeed.” She had to stand on her toes to attach the insignia to his shoulders. Stepping back, she said, “For as long as you are commander in chief, you also have the right to carry the Royal Sword of San Gabriel. Lady Athena, pray present it to Colonel Lord Masterson.”

  Athena stepped forward and offered him a shining sword with both hands. Startled, he took the weapon from her, saying softly, “Athena, goddess of war indeed!”

  “Would that the sword wasn’t needed!” she replied. “It’s Damascus steel, strong and supple and very old.”

  The hilt glinted with inlaid gold wire patterns, but when he took the weapon in hand and made several experimental thrusts, he found that it was beautifully balanced. He usually carried a larger blade better suited to his height, but this one would do very well.

  He raised the sword and clasped its hilt to his chest in a salute. “It’s a magnificent sword, your royal highness. I am proud to wield it on behalf of San Gabriel.”

  “I know you shall carry it with honor.” Sofia’s gaze swept across the room, touching the familiar faces of her friends. “And may God and the Blessed Mother keep us all safe!”

  * * *

  Joaquim Cavaco was a clever imp who enthusiastically agreed to scout beyond San Gabriel’s borders to watch for the approaching French forces. He was sixteen, but looked about twelve; and in his shabby brown-and-tan clothing, he blended in well with the landscape.

  With some regret, he refused the offer of a horse to ride, saying that a mule was more sure-footed and more likely to be ridden by a shabby boy. If he were Spanish, he’d have been a natural to join the Spanish guerillas. Without the guerilla bands, Wellington never would have been able to drive the French from the Peninsula.

  Will and Joaquim and Tom rode together up the road to Spain. As they passed the shrine of the Madonna de las Rosas, Will noted that a bouquet of summer flowers had been placed in front of the crude statue of the Madonna so recently that they hadn’t yet started to wilt. A prayer for divine aid against the French, perhaps.

  As they continued along the road, Will said, “If I recall correctly, the section of sunken road isn’t much farther.”

  “You’ve a good eye for the country, sir,” Tom commented. “I barely noticed it when we came this way before.”

  “All the Gabrileños were mad keen to get home so we rushed through here.” Will shaded his eyes as he studied the road ahead. The sunken area was a little under half a mile long, he judged. The road was narrow and steep, but many, many feet and hooves over the centuries had worn it down so that it was between eight and twelve feet below the stony embankments on each side.

  “Joaquim, you know this country well. Are there any geographical features that might help us make our ambush successful?”

  The boy thought. “A small dry arroyo goes up behind the embankment on the left. It comes out just ahead.” He studied the ground as they continued along the road, then pointed. “Here. We can ride the first part, but not all the way to the top.”

  The route didn’t look like much more than a goat track, but it ran in the right direction. They proceeded up the hillside a short distance before coming to a small meadow with a spring. The track beyond was much steeper, so they dismounted and tethered their mounts by the spring, then continued on foot.

  Higher up, the shallow ditch ran roughly parallel with the embankment above the road, but a couple of feet lower. “Perfect!” Will said. “We can lie low here until the French are reported coming, then move into position above the road.”

  Tom nodded agreement. “Do you want us stationed on one side or both sides?”

  “Both sides so we can catch the French in a cross fire. But more men on this side, I think, because it will be easier to lie concealed until we’re ready to attack.”

  “So I see the French and come galloping back to warn everyone,” Joaquim said. “Where will you be, Colonel?”

  Will stood on the embankment and studied the terrain. “Down at the lower end, farthest into the valley, on this side.” He pointed out the location. “When the French are as enclosed as they’re going to get, I’ll fire the first shot as a signal for the attack. Tom, I’ll want you at the upper end on the opposite side to help steady the militia, with Gilberto across from you, and the next most senior sergeant of the veterans opposite me.”

  “Makes sense, but you’re at the point where the embankment is lowest. If any of the French devils are mounted and have their wits about them, they’ll charge right up the embankment to your position.”

  Will shrugged. “Someone needs to be there and I’m a good shot.” He turned to their scout. “Joaquim, are you ready to set off into Spain to watch for the French?”

  “Yes, sir.” He gave a smart salute. “I have enough supplies for two or three days, which should be long enough if your pet Frenchman is telling the truth.”

  “I’m reasonably sure he’s telling the truth as he knows it, but plans do change.” Will held out his hand to the boy. “Vaya con Dios, Joaquim.”

  The boy grinned. “If I do a good job, can I keep the mule?”

  Will laughed. “Indeed you can.”

  As Joaquim skittered down the hill to the meadow where his mule was tethered, Will said, “Tom, what’s the best use of our limited supplies of black powder? I didn’t expect a war, so much of what Ballard brought up has to be used for the firearms,
and thank God we have it. What can we do with the rest?”

  “How about if we pack it into a few wooden boxes and set them along the enemy’s line of march? Then fire into the boxes when they come by. The times we’ve done that, it’s been effective.” Tom smiled. “Makes a fine great bang, it does.”

  Will considered. “That works well in some cases, but it uses a lot of gunpowder. Even if we try to disguise the boxes, they might call attention to themselves as being out of place on a reasonably clear road. Plus, shooting them will be difficult if the French come through in the dark, which seems likely.”

  “All good objections,” Tom said with regret. “What about grenades?”

  “I’m thinking they’re our best choice.” Will studied the sunken road again. “Wine bottles made out of the thinnest available glass with black powder inside, sealed with wax and a wick.”

  “They’d have to be thrown by the steady men who have been in combat before,” Tom said. “They’ll terrify the inexperienced militiamen.”

  “True. We don’t want to put grenades into the hands of someone who will blow up the wrong people.” Another thought struck. “We can create a form of shrapnel by putting pebbles or nails and scrap metal into the grenade bottles. When they go off, the pieces will shoot all over the road. It should be particularly effective in the dark.”

  “I like that idea!” Tom grinned. “We’re a bloodthirsty lot, aren’t we, sir?”

  “Yes, but in a good cause.” Will began walking along the embankment, studying the ground. “We’ll survey up this side and come back down the other so we know where to position our men. Then off to the Alcantara winery to beg some bottles. First a test grenade. If it works, we have enough gunpowder to make a couple of dozen.”

  “Roughly one for each experienced soldier. We’ll need covered lanterns to light the fuses from. I’ll ask Señora Oliviera for some.”

  With plans and grenades in prospect, Will felt a little more hopeful. If he was really lucky, he might make it back to the castle tonight.

  * * *

  The castle courtyard was getting crowded as whole families moved in and set up camp. As the most defensible site in San Gabriel, the castle was the designated sanctuary for much of the town and the surrounding countryside. The elderly and unwell were sheltered in outbuildings, but the weather was pleasant enough that most people could stay outside comfortably. In fact, Athena guessed that a fiesta might start soon. The Gabrileños were a resilient lot.

  With Sofia overseeing the refugees in the castle, Athena and Señor Oliviera rode to the town of Espirito Santo at the other end of the valley to put the evacuation wheels in motion. There was less urgency here, since the castle area was much closer to the Spanish road and this end of the valley would have more warning.

  But if the French survived the ambush in good order and swept into the valley, no place would be safe.

  If that happened, Will would probably be dead; he wouldn’t run away in terror. He’d try to rally his men, but what if not enough of them stood their ground?

  She shuddered at the thought. Though she’d accepted that their affair would be brief, she’d hoped for more than a single night. She needed more than a single night. She needed his understanding, his humor, his deep caring. And his passion, which made her feel desirable and . . . loved. Loved as she’d never been before.

  She spent the long hours on the road praying that the French would be defeated, with no Gabrileño casualties. Most particularly, not to the commander in chief.

  Chapter 30

  It was late when Will returned to the castle. For form’s sake, he debated whether he should go to Athena’s room, but he already knew what he’d decided. After a brief washup in his room, he walked silently to the far end of the corridor.

  Though the courtyard outside buzzed with people, the family quarters of the castle were silent. He was glad to find that Athena’s door wasn’t locked. He pushed the handle down and stepped inside. “Athena?” he asked softly. “Don’t shoot, it’s me.”

  “Will!” Athena leaped from the bed and closed the space between them in three long strides. She hurled herself into his arms, locking him in a rib-bruising embrace. “I’m so glad you came! I’d given up thinking you’d be back tonight.”

  The simmering emotions he’d felt all day flared, shooting through him like a rocket. His lover, his beloved, his mate. “I almost didn’t make it. I’m sorry it’s so late.”

  For reply, she found his mouth and kissed him with fierce urgency. The world dissolved, leaving only his frantic need to make love to her. “Athena,” he gasped. “My goddess . . .”

  They stumbled over each other on the way to the bed, luckily landing on the mattress rather than the floor. He discovered that she wore nothing under her loose nightgown, and that she was extremely adept at undoing the buttons that secured the fall of his trousers.

  They came together with a force that should have made the heavens shake. As their bodies clashed, their spirits melded. He hadn’t known desire could be so intense, or so satisfying. Even better was knowing how well he satisfied Athena. She moaned with ecstasy, her nails digging into him as they fought for completion. His goddess, his little owl, who had never been loved as well as she should have been, and who deserved everything he could give her and more.

  “Will . . .”

  Her climax triggered his own and nearly melted his mind. Also his body, as the tension flowed away and he folded himself around her. When his brain began working again, he panted, “I didn’t actually come here to ravish you. At least, not right away.”

  She gave a choke of laughter. “I don’t think it’s ravishing when I’m trying to tear your clothes off.”

  He rolled to his side and pulled her close against him, then tugged the coverlet over them. “As busy as I was all day, in the back of my mind was the fear that I wouldn’t see you again. I feel as if we’re just beginning to really know each other. I hate thinking this might end almost before we’ve begun.”

  “I feel the same way.” Her voice half teasing, she added, “I’ve never known a man like you. I want to spend enough time with you to discover if you really are as wonderful as you seem. But everything is in limbo. I feel like the sword of Damocles is hanging over our heads.”

  He stroked her neck and shoulders, gently kneading the tight muscles. “Exactly, except that it’s hundreds of swords.”

  “More likely muskets. Were you able to complete what needed to be done today?”

  “Yes, by tonight we’ll be as ready as we can be. Today we surveyed the ambush area, sent off a scout to look for Baudin and his forces, and I spent the afternoon making grenades out of wine bottles and black powder.”

  She stroked a hand from his neck to his waist, her fingers light and soothing. “That sounds like a more interesting day than mine. Did you know that you have a lovely back? All strong and touchable, even when you’re wearing several layers of clothing.”

  “I haven’t actually thought much about my back,” he said with mild surprise. “Mostly, I take for granted that it will do what I want it to do. How was your day spent?”

  “Señor Oliviera and I rode through the valley and encouraged everyone to withdraw to the safe houses and caves with enough water and food to hold out for at least a fortnight. People are anxious but not panicked. They’re better prepared than last year.”

  “The weeks of planning and drilling haven’t been wasted, though I didn’t expect a full-scale assault on San Gabriel,” he said wryly. “I feared a few dozen bandits, maybe, but not this.”

  “Now that you’ve surveyed the ambush grounds and made your grenades, do you have any better sense of what might happen?”

  He frowned. “I really have no idea. Once fighting begins, plans go out the window. The ambush ground is good. The scout Gilberto found us should be able to give us enough warning to position ourselves.

  “But we’re still dramatically outnumbered, perhaps two to one or worse, and only about one in ten
of our militiamen have any combat experience. Most should be able to manage as long as they’re on the high ground shooting down into the road, but when the French start fighting back—and they will—some of the raw militiamen will probably break and run. When that happens, usually more men follow.”

  “It sounds like you need as many experienced shooters as you can find,” Athena said slowly. “I’m going to join the ambush.”

  “What!” Will jerked up and stared down at her, unable to read her expression in the dim light. “You can’t do that!”

  “Why not?” she said reasonably. “I’m quite a good shot, and you said yourself that my nerves are steadier in battle than those of many experienced soldiers.”

  “Yes, but I can’t bear to think of you going into such danger,” he said flatly.

  “How is that worse than me seeing you go into battle?” Athena asked. “You need people who can shoot and not run away. I’ve proved I can stand my ground and do what is necessary.”

  He couldn’t deny that, yet the idea of her engaging with the French in battle appalled him. “No! I’m the commander in chief and I give the orders, no matter how irrational I may be.”

  “I’m not a soldier under your command,” she pointed out. “I really don’t think you can stop me. The ambush is strung some distance along the road, isn’t it? I can take a position and you won’t even notice in the dark.”

  All the horrors of battle passed through Will’s mind as he stared at Athena. “You don’t belong on a battlefield.”

  She raised a hand and cupped his cheek, her gaze sad. “No woman ever born has been happy to see her husband or son or brother go to war, but sometimes, war can’t be avoided. I am English in my bones, but San Gabriel has given me the best things in my life. A position, a home, a family.” She smiled a little. “You. I have taken much, and now I must give back, even if it means risking my life.”

  “Surely, Sofia needs you. You’ve been her right hand for the last five years.”

  “This time she has Justin, and he can help her in ways that I can’t.” Athena’s voice gentled. “It would be different if my going off to fight wouldn’t make a difference, but in this case, it might. You need experienced fighters, and I have some experience. Can you deny that I might be of value? Or that I have no right to risk my life on behalf of those I love?”