The Adventurers

by Jane Aiken Hodge

  ‘That’s better. Now, you see, I am very busy trying to make this pallet endurable. Into bed with you, baggage. We will talk more in the morning.’

  With his unexpected kindness, reaction had set in violently. Tears followed each other silently down her cheeks as she got herself into the big cold bed, and once there, she buried her face convulsively in the pillow to smother the sobs that began to rack their way up through her.

  ‘Well,’ came the cool voice from the other side of the room. ‘Are you safe, Rapunzel? Can I turn round?’ And then, with a little laugh: ‘I thought there was something odd about that hair. You must let me recut it for you in the morning.’

  A sound, half hiccup, half sob, was the only answer. He had moved across the room to where the candle stood on a rough chest, but now paused. ‘What’s the matter, Rapunzel?’

  ‘N…nothing,’ she managed. ‘Leave me alone.’

  ‘Or you’ll shoot me? We’ve been through all that before. Come, Rapunzel, you’ll feel better if you tell me, and, who knows, I might be able to help you. Not a camp follower, are you? You had me fooled with that little self-possessed air of yours—and besides, what an angel with the cards! But—a child, in a world too big for it. Best tell your Uncle Charles all about it. No need to beat about the bush. You’ve seen me for what I am; I saw those bright eyes of yours summing me up tonight. I make money by my skill at cards—but I don’t cheat, mind you. I’ve got to live, haven’t I? Have you ever tried to live on an interpreter’s pay? Foolish question, but what I’m trying to tell you is, I may be an adventurer, but I’m a gentleman, just the same, and, word of honour, I’ll help you any way I can.’

  As he intended, the long speech had given her time to master her sobs. And—she believed him. She could hear him moving a little nearer and, instinctively, buried herself more deeply in the bedclothes. ‘Reaching for your gun?’ asked the amused voice. ‘Don’t bother. It’s all right. I don’t eat babies. Only, I thought, if I sat down here’—she felt his weight, solid, at the foot of the bed—‘you might find it easier to tell me about it. Had a bad day, haven’t you? Very bad, I’m beginning to think. French stragglers, or Cossacks?’

  ‘Both,’ she managed.

  ‘Good God. No wonder you didn’t want me to touch you.’

  ‘No, no.’ She raised her head from the pillow to answer more clearly. ‘Not me, but…Gretchen…’ And so, bit by bit, among sobs, she got the whole story out. At last, dry-eyed, she looked at him through the shadows. ‘I won’t ever forget it,’ she said. ‘I’m different now. I used to want—oh, all kinds of things. Girls do, I suppose. I don’t want them anymore. If that’s what men are like—’ She broke off, then started again. ‘I meant it, when I said I’d shoot you if you touched me.’

  ‘I know you did. But—you will forget, you know. Gretchen and the others, they’re dead; they don’t care anymore. They wouldn’t want you to remember. Tomorrow, the sun will rise; it will be a new day, a new life. I had a friend, a good friend; the only one, in fact. My mother didn’t like me much; I never knew my father. Well, this friend of mine and I, we joined the army together. He was always singing, always joking, always laughing. Me, I’m a gloomy sort of man, underneath; and plenty to be gloomy about. But Mark laughed, he sang; if there was anything to enjoy, he enjoyed it. And—I shot him, with this hand.’ He held it out, steady in the candlelight.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Retreating from Moscow. He was wounded, crossing the Beresina, and dying by inches. I carried him as far as I could; we had no horses, no wagons, nothing. At last he said, “Put me down, Charles.” I put him down, in the snow, and he looked up at me for a moment. We both knew what I had to do. We had seen what the Russians did to stragglers. Well, you’ve seen the Cossacks. You know. But, do you know, I was crying. He looked at me, then he smiled: “Charles,” he said, “remember something, for my sake. Remember that it’s never as bad as you think it is.” And then, “Quickly, Charles.” So I shot him through the heart. And since then, when I begin to feel gloomy, I think of Mark. “It’s never as bad as you think it is.” And now, go to sleep, Rapunzel and think that tomorrow must be better than today. Besides, you’ve got a friend now: Charles Vincent who shot his last one. We’re birds of a feather, you and I: no ties, no affections, not much to be sentimental about. You hate men, you say: well, I don’t very much care for women. If you’d met my mother, you’d know why. But I’ve got more sense than you, Rapunzel. I’m going to marry, one of these days—I’m going to marry a great great great deal of money. I don’t care who brings it; she can be humpbacked, or harelipped, so long as she’s rich enough.’

  ‘Where will you find her?’ For the first time since morning, Sonia had forgotten her own troubles.

  ‘You’re no fool, Rapunzel, are you? That’s exactly the question. Money looks to money. If I’m to get my heiress, I’ll have to put a better show before the world than I can at present. For the moment, you see me—or you would if the light was better—with all my worldly possessions about me. Well, not counting my horse, out in the stable. But, thanks to you, I’m richer tonight than I was this morning. Suppose we kept it up; I’d be richer tomorrow than I am today. And, Rapunzel, so would you. Money’s a powerful consoler, you know.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m not sure that I know myself. But if we played as well as that together, tonight, meeting for the first time… Suppose we practiced. We’d be unbeatable, Rapunzel. I’m on my way to Allied Headquarters, looking for work as an interpreter. There should be plenty of it, God knows. And—there’ll be rich men there, and long, anxious evenings with death, perhaps, in the morning. Play will be high; the players’ minds not always on their cards. Well, nothing wrong with that.’ He sounded as if he was arguing with himself. ‘They can afford to lose it; I should be glad to win it; all perfectly honest and above-board, you understand, Rapunzel. I may be an adventurer, but I’m no cheat.’

  ‘Of course not.’

  He laughed. ‘Those Austrians weren’t so sure. “Devil’s own luck,” indeed. You play like an angel, Rapunzel. How about it? Forget Aunt Gertrude. Join forces with me; we’ll make a fortune, I promise you. Enough of one, at any rate, to set up house handsomely, wherever the fortunes of war take us. And then, for me, my heiress, and why not a brilliant match for you? I’ve always noticed that it’s the girls who don’t care who get the men. Of course,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘I don’t really know what you look like—as a girl—but you’re quite a presentable boy. And you’ve got spirit—that’s the thing. With money behind you, and no clutter of feelings to hold you back—think of the advantage of it. A marshal of France, perhaps? An English duke? Why not?’

  ‘You’re mad.’

  ‘I don’t believe so.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that. You’ll be my sister. Nobody knows anything about me; still less do they care. My mother was married to my father; I have her marriage lines. But that’s all I know, except that he was English. They met in Brussels in ’92; she had fled there with her family when things got too hot for them in Paris; he was a young Englishman, making his tour. I suppose he must have been of reasonable family or he wouldn’t have been doing so. Anyway, it was coup de foudre on both sides; they were married within a fortnight of meeting. Then, the French revolutionaries defeated Austria at Jemappes and took Brussels. My mother never told me exactly what happened; all I know is that my father went back to England while she and her family escaped just in time, first to Liége and finally to Coblentz. I was born there. We never heard from my father again. So’—he shrugged—‘you can see that there is no one to be surprised if I suddenly turn up with a sister.’

  ‘Your mother’s family?’

  ‘All dead, I think. They were greedy. When the émigrés were told to return to France or lose their estates, they went back, all but my mother, and paid the price of their greed on the scaffold. It made my mother the bitter old woman I remember. That and being
abandoned by my father. And the émigré life, of course. Pride and penury; makeshifts and make-believe; all the gossip and backbiting of a court, without any of its advantages. I tell you, I was glad to find myself in Napoleon’s army. There, real things were real. Even frostbite… But of course, my mother’s friends washed their hands of me—she was dead by then; there’s no one to care, or remember, whether I had a sister. And as for you, it’s simpler still. Who’s to know you were not killed up there at the castle today? You’re dead, Rapunzel. Forget Aunt Gertrude and her daily prayers; be born again as my sister; we’ll make our fortunes, I promise you. I have—I am paying you the compliment of talking frankly—I have a certain gift for dealing with people.’ He laughed. ‘You should have seen old Schwartzenberg. He meant to have me locked up, and ended by giving me letters of recommendation.’

  ‘So now you are dealing with me.’

  ‘Exactly! I told you our minds worked well together. You see through me; I understand you. Together, we’d be unbeatable. Come, Rapunzel, say yes. You don’t want to moulder your life away on a mountain peak when the world’s in the melting pot. I tell you, anything may happen in the next few weeks. If the Allies beat Napoleon, I’ve my letters of recommendation from Schwartzenberg. If, on the other hand, he proves too many for them after all—and it wouldn’t surprise me; he’s a miracle that man—but if he does, here I am: fought at Moscow; French… We can’t lose, Rapunzel. Come on, the world’s our oyster.’

  ‘Which we with sword will open? Well—why not? It couldn’t be worse than living with Aunt Gertrude; that’s one thing certain.’

  He laughed and rose from her bed. ‘You flatter me unspeakably, Rapunzel. Now—sweet dreams, sister dear. We’ll make our plans in the morning.’

  Chapter Three

  ‘And what, may I ask, are you doing here?’ She looked at him coldly across the castle courtyard, a tall woman in a severe black dress that threw up red lights in her dark hair, where it showed under the bandage. If she was alarmed at his sudden appearance, she was very far from showing it

  Charles Vincent had been looking about him. Yes, this was the place: the broken gate, sawdust on the castle courtyard, and silence, where there should have been all the noises of life going on, all these spoke of yesterday’s disaster. ‘You must be Miss Barrymore. Rapunzel thought you were dead.’ He had taken off his hat and now moved towards her.

  ‘The question is not who am I, but who are you?’ She must be in her thirties, with that air of composure and command, that highly formed face. ‘And who is Rapunzel?’

  ‘Do you know, she never told me her name. But—your pupil, undoubtedly, and safe.’

  ‘Thank God for that. I have been frantic with worry.’

  ‘You do not sound it.’ They had exchanged, by now, a long, considering glance, grey eyes locking with deep blue ones.

  ‘What’s the use?’ She liked what she saw: the brown face, the slim figure in the plain coat, and above all the grey eyes that met hers so squarely. Her voice became more friendly. ‘You think I should be in strong hysterics? There’s been too much to do. We had—I expect Sonia told you—some trouble here yesterday.’

  ‘Sonia,’ he said. ‘A pretty name. And the other one?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ Impatiently. And then, ‘Well, Von Hugel, if you are interested.’

  ‘I am.’ And then, as if it explained something, ‘She thought you dead.’

  ‘Only stunned. But—where is she? And how much did she see?’ Odd to be taking it so entirely for granted that he was Sonia’s friend, and hers.

  ‘Everything, I am afraid. You will find her—changed, I think. I am glad you are alive.’

  She looked at him quizzically. ‘Thank you. So am I. But, where is she? Why are we standing talking here? And who are you?’

  ‘Charles Vincent.’ He answered the last question first. ‘An adventurer: we met last night at a village inn. She was still in bed when I left this morning.’ And then, at her quick movement: ‘No need to be anxious. She’s all right. I told the landlady to have an eye to her. She won’t run away again. I am come for her clothes.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘She ran away in some of her brother’s. Very sensibly. She was going to an old dragon called Aunt Gertrude, but lost her way. I think I have persuaded her to forget about Aunt Gertrude and come with me.’

  ‘With you? In what capacity, may I ask?’

  He looked at her admiringly. ‘You’re a cool one. Not as a mistress, if that is what you want to know.’ He laughed. ‘She pulled a gun on me.’

  ‘Good.’ She had stood, all this time, dominating him from the top of the castle steps; now she turned. ‘We might as well talk inside,’ she said. ‘And by the way, I can defend myself quite as capably as Sonia.’

  ‘I am sure you can.’ He followed her into the castle hall. Here, too, there were signs of yesterday’s struggle: broken chairs, the big table still lying where it had been overturned; and everywhere the signs of swift, aimless looting.

  ‘Not a pretty sight.’ She had been following his eyes. ‘Which of these bands of brigands do you adhere to, Mr Vincent?’

  ‘Why, none of them, ma’am. I told you, I am an adventurer. Charles Vincent is my interest, he and no other.’

  ‘Very creditable, I’m sure.’ Dryly. ‘And where, pray, does Sonia come in?’

  ‘Why, she’s an angel with a pack of cards. We are going to make a fortune together, she and I. We won a little one from a couple of Austrian officers last night. And we had never played together before. A bit of practice, and the sky’s the limit.’

  ‘And you expect me to countenance this project?’

  He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘That is exactly what I have been wondering. But tell me, ma’am, what else have you to suggest for her? I don’t know whether there is some hearty young squire in the district who’s dangling after her, but I can tell you, it’s no use. She won’t be touched; not after what she saw yesterday. And I shouldn’t think there was one anyway; she’s a child, still. Just as well, if you ask me. Of course, I’ve only seen her in boy’s clothes, and her hair cropped; not at her best, I grant you, but no beauty, surely. Not yet, anyway. And no portion, from what she tells me. Well, there you are. Marriage is out. What’s left? Aunt Gertrude and the cousin who inherits. Charity either way. You know more about them than I do, but it doesn’t sound much of a future to me for a spirited girl like Rapunzel.’

  ‘Rapunzel?’

  ‘Because of the hair. Had to call her something, you understand. You wait till you see her.’

  ‘I can tell she is not at her best. Well, what are we waiting for?’

  ‘You mean, you’ll come?’

  ‘Of course I’ll come. She’s in my charge, after all. I’m all she’s got, poor lamb.’

  ‘Not quite all, ma’am. She’s got me too, now.’

  ‘An adventurer?’

  He looked about him at the hall, with its bloodstains, ‘An adventurer, yes, ma’am, but not a murderer.’ Was it the deep voice that gave him his charm? He certainly had a way with him. ‘Well, what about it?’ More pressing now. ‘Do we pack her things? She’s been a long time alone.’

  ‘I—’ For the first time she hesitated. ‘I suppose so. You don’t know the cousin; I do. And you haven’t seen Sonia as I have. And you say she won’t be touched. She’d not be safe from him; not here; not at her Aunt Gertrude’s. You may be an adventurer, but you strike me as a gentleman.’

  ‘Thank you,’ with an ironical bow. ‘She is to be my sister, ma’am. You had best be our aunt.’

  ‘Another Aunt Gertrude? You are too kind. And—you are going a little too fast for me. I did not mean to imply that I would lend any countenance to this lunatic scheme of yours. Your sister indeed! I never heard such nonsense! And a fortune to be won at cards; I’ve heard of them lost that way often enough, but that is something quite other.’

  ‘Well, is it! After all, what’s lost must be won. And I tell you, Rapunzel and I play together l
ike…like…’

  ‘Like angels. You said that before, and I am prepared to take your word for it. You seem to forget, or, very likely, you do not know, that Sonia comes of two ancient and aristocratic families. What would either the Von Hugels or the Delvertons in England think of me if I were to allow her to become a card sharper?’

  She had spoken with the easy confidence of her ten years’ seniority, but now, grey eyes flashing, he was formidable, ‘Who said anything about card sharping, ma’am? And as for family; it’s true I know nothing of my father, but my mother was a duke’s daughter. And much good it did her. When you’ve seen duchesses mending lace for a living—as I have—you come to set less store by ancient lineage. Pride makes no porridge, ma’am. Will these Von Hugels and Delvertons of yours provide an income for your Sonia? A dowry when she marries? She did not seem to think so.’

  ‘I’m afraid she may have been right. At least so far as the Von Hugels are concerned. As for the Delvertons, I know little about them, except that Sonia’s grandfather cut off her mother for marrying her father.’

  ‘Not exactly encouraging.’

  ‘No, but I still think it my duty to take her back to England. Indeed, what else can I do? Sonia does not know it, but her Aunt Gertrude has never approved of me. She was very angry when the baron engaged me, years ago, and is not a woman to forget or forgive. She would never consent to my going there with Sonia—and still less would I consider abandoning Sonia to her Calvinist mercies. So, sir, if you are really on your way to Allied Headquarters, and will give us your escort so far, I shall be deeply grateful to you.’

  ‘And what then?’

  ‘Why, surely I shall be able to make some arrangement to get us to England.’

  ‘I admire your optimism, ma’am. Are you aware that to get to England at present it is necessary to sail from Prussia to Sweden, and so across the North Sea? A difficult and expensive journey at the best of times. Impossible, I should have thought, for two unaccompanied ladies in the depth of winter. Now, think a little, again, of my plan. You come with me to Allied Headquarters and we set up house together. As brother and sister, or as cousins, if you prefer it: I can see that it would save her the trouble of changing her name. With you for chaperone, we shall be the pink of respectability. I believe I have omitted to explain to you that I have letters from Schwartzenberg strongly recommending me as an interpreter—I was able to be of some small service to him at Leipzig. Well then, we have our reason ready for following the Allied advance, and if Rapunzel and I contrive to make ourselves a little money on the way, what’s wrong with that?’