The Price of Honour

by Mary Nichols

  Don Santandos smiled. ‘Good. Come with me.’ He turned to lead the way into the building.

  Olivia, tagging along behind, realised it had been a long time since the monastery had been used for the purpose for which it had been built. It was a small fortress; every window was a gun embrasure, with weapons and ammunition at the ready. There was food stacked in the room which had once been the monks’ kitchens and truckle-beds and straw paliasses were scattered about. They were obviously preparing for a siege. If they thought she and Philippe had been aware of their preparations when they captured them, it was no wonder they had been so anxious that they should not return to Ciudad Rodrigo and the French army.

  ‘You look surprised, madame,’ Don Santandos said in French. ‘Why should that be?’

  ‘Please do not call me madame. I am not French; I have told you so a dozen times. My name is Mrs Lynmount. And yes, I am surprised to find so much preparation for war in a place like this.’

  ‘Because it is a monastery? They were built to withstand sieges, Mrs Lynmount.’

  She was glad that he had changed to English; perhaps he was ready to be convinced, after all. ‘Not just that, but because it is so far from the main road. I can’t imagine an army deciding to come this way. The ground is too rough and the way too narrow.’

  ‘It would come if there was no alternative. What we have done for a small force, we can do for a greater. Now I have said enough.’ He opened the door to one of the monks’ cells. ‘You will be comfortable in here until we decide what to do with you.’

  As soon as they had gone, Robert collapsed on to the narrow bed which stood against the wall, and shut his eyes. His hand strayed to his throat and he tried to swallow.

  She knelt beside him. ‘Is there anything I can do to ease it? A bandage perhaps?’

  ‘I must…thank you for…my deliverance.’

  ‘I was angry.’

  He grinned, but it was more a grimace of pain. ‘Angry enough to attempt…the impossible… The luck of the…gods must have been with you.’

  ‘Luck didn’t come into it,’ she said, busily tearing the hem off her petticoat to make a bandage. ‘I have been a crack shot ever since I was big enough to lift a pistol.’

  His disbelief was obvious, but she let it pass; she was used to it. ‘Even a rifleman…would consider that a…shot in a thousand,’ he said. ‘And you must have known…that even if it succeeded…you would be taken prisoner.’

  ‘It was you who said “sufficient unto the day”. And they had no right to do what they did. After all, they are supposed to be our allies.’ Her touch was gentle as she wound the makeshift bandage round his neck; it belied the sharpness of her tongue. ‘And you would do better not to try and talk.’

  ‘It was…a brave thing to do.’ His voice was becoming stronger as the effects of his ordeal wore off. ‘Especially as you are not sure of my…loyalty to my country.’

  ‘It does not matter what I think; it is the guerrilleros you have to convince. I told them when they first captured me that I was Philippe’s prisoner and that I was married to an English soldier. You must be that soldier. You went absent without leave to look for me. You must make them believe it. Persuade them to let us go back to our own lines.’

  ‘Us? Does that mean you are throwing in your lot with mine, after all?’

  ‘Only until we are out of this scrape.’

  ‘You would not be in a scrape if you had done as you were bidden and waited on the other side of the gorge for me.’

  She had got herself into this mess, it was true, but it had started long before she met him. She smiled. ‘I would have had a long wait.’

  ‘Better than dying with me.’

  ‘I do not intend to die.’ She leaned back to look at her handiwork. ‘Why were they trying to hang you? What were you supposed to have stolen?’

  ‘A mule.’

  ‘For me?’ Her obvious surprise made him smile crookedly.

  ‘How else could I have persuaded you to come with me?’

  ‘And the bread?’

  ‘I don’t think they have missed that even now.’

  She was beginning to look at him in a new light; he was certainly resourceful as well as brave and strong. ‘The hare too? And the water?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You fool! And all for nothing.’

  ‘Nothing, my dear Olivia? How can you say that when Dame Fortune has smiled on our endeavours and given us a sure sign we are meant to go on?’

  ‘Whatever are you talking about?’

  He touched his neck gingerly. ‘Now I don’t have to pretend, I can be a silent Philippe and be convincing.’

  ‘Oh, you are impossible! It is out of the question, and if the guerrilleros hear that you intend to go to the French they will make sure we do not escape. They may decide that hanging is too good for us and try torture. Besides, if the French are sending supply wagons as far forward as this, they must have left Ciudad Rodrigo to continue their advance.’

  ‘Do you know how far forward we are?’

  ‘No, and I doubt the guerrilleros will tell us.’

  He sat up suddenly, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pulled her up beside him as footsteps sounded on the stone floor outside their cell. When the door opened he was holding her in a tight embrace and his lips were on hers. To have tried to resist would have made the man who stood in the doorway suspicious and yet she did not want the Englishman to think that kissing strange men was something she made a habit of and he could do it with impunity. She had had two husbands before but neither had kissed her like this. His strength and determination went into that kiss, but it was more than that; it hinted at a latent passion which promised all manner of delight if only she would submit and return fire with fire.

  But she would not; he was taking advantage of their situation and it just would not do. But even as the thought crossed her mind she was weakening; his mouth, exploring hers, overwhelmed her senses and made her whole traitorous body melt against his. She forgot everything — her surroundings, her widowhood, even the man who stood in the doorway, as she succumbed to a need she had never before acknowledged.

  Robert lifted his head at last and looked over her shoulder at the newcomer. ‘Go away; can’t you see I am busy?’

  The spell had been broken and she took the opportunity to pull herself away and sit up, now acutely aware of the smiling Spaniard. ‘The chief sent me to fetch you to join him for supper. Come, follow me.’

  Reluctantly Robert rose to obey and Olivia, struck dumb, could do nothing but follow as their guide conducted them to the refectory, where almost the whole band of partisans were sitting around a table laden with food and bottles of wine.

  ‘Sit down, my friends,’ Don Santandos said, waving a chicken leg at them. ‘Eat heartily. Let it not be said Don Santandos does not know how to treat his prisoners.’ He looked up at Robert. ‘I trust your neck is not too uncomfortable for you to swallow?’ He pointed at two empty spaces on the bench next to him and waited until they had taken their seats and food had been set before them. Then he filled their glasses. ‘You were lucky, you know,’ he said, addressing Robert. ‘So lucky it is almost unbelievable, and because of that I am inclined to take it as a sign that you are not meant to die — not yet.’ He smiled. ‘We might have other uses for you.’

  Robert, who was reluctant to put food into his mouth in case he could not swallow it, picked up his glass and held it up in salute to Don Santandos. ‘Be assured, Don Santandos, if I can be of service, I shall deem it an honour. After all, one good turn deserves another.’ He sipped the wine. Olivia, watching, noticed the almost imperceptible wince of pain as he swallowed it.

  The Spaniard laughed. ‘It is a good turn to be half strangled?’

  ‘No, señor, I was referring to the fact that you had done me the service of killing the man who took my wife, and saved me the trouble.’

  ‘Ahh.’ He looked at Robert’s untouched plate. ‘Would you rather have
soup, my friend? It will go down more easily.’ He clicked his fingers and one of his men hurried to the kitchens. ‘We shall, of course, have to have proof of your story. You have no papers, nothing on your uniform to tell us which regiment you came from, nor your rank. And there are no British troops this side of the Coa.’

  ‘You are wrong.’

  ‘You mean Craufurd’s Light Division?’

  ‘You know that, do you?’

  ‘It is hardly a secret.’ Don Santandos paused to swallow his glass of wine in one gulp. ‘For someone who is supposed to be covering a retreat, he is being particularly aggressive. Is that where you came from?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why are you alone?’

  ‘He came looking for me.’ Olivia found her voice at last.

  ‘And who would not want to search for so beautiful an example of the fair sex?’ The Spaniard laughed suddenly. ‘Even if she does handle a rifle like a trooper.’

  ‘Better,’ she said, making him laugh again.

  He turned to Robert. ‘You have taught her well, but don’t you think a gun in the hands of a woman is a fatal combination?’

  ‘It is only fatal if I want it to be,’ she snapped quickly. ‘And I can out-shoot any man here. Give me a weapon and I will prove it.’

  Don Santandos roared with laughter, and though his men had not understood the conversation they knew something had tickled the fancy of their chief and followed suit. ‘You are a trier, I give you that,’ he said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. ‘But I am not such a fool as to fall for that one.’

  ‘It was worth a try,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘I think,’ said Robert, as a bowl of soup was set before him, ‘I think I have a better proposition than that.’

  ‘Oh, let us hear it. It will amuse us while we wait.’

  ‘Wait for what?’ Olivia demanded.

  No one answered her. Robert stood up and beckoned to Don Santandos. ‘A word in your ear, señor.’

  Two or three of the partisans pushed back the bench on which they sat, making it overturn with a clatter, and rushed to seize Robert’s arms. He stood without struggling, still looking towards their leader. ‘Come, Don Santandos, I am weak and helpless and I give you my parole.’

  ‘No!’ Olivia shrieked, knowing that his parole would bind him to refrain from trying to escape. ‘You fool!’

  ‘It seems your wife has more spunk than you do, Englishman. No wonder she preferred the company of the Frenchman.’

  ‘I did not! Why will you not believe me?’

  ‘Because, Mrs Lynmount, we had been watching you for some time before we took you prisoner and we saw what we saw. Would you like me to tell your husband that you were not behaving like a prisoner? Shall we tell him what we saw?’

  ‘There is no need for that.’

  ‘Are you afraid he would beat you?’

  ‘He should understand that when a woman has a choice between…’ She shrugged, allowing them to guess her meaning.

  ‘You mean your courage deserted you and you did not fight for your honour? Oh, Mrs Lynmount, you disappoint me.’

  ‘It was be his prisoner or be left to the mercy of his men.’ She deliberately turned from him and began to eat. ‘I will speak no more on the subject. If my husband is satisfied, then so should you be.’

  ‘Are you satisfied?’ Don Santandos asked Robert.

  ‘If I am not, it is between me and my wife,’ Robert said. ‘I will deal with her later; there are more important things to consider now. I have something to say to you.’

  ‘Then do so.’

  ‘In private.’

  Don Santandos stood up and signalled to his men to release Robert’s arms. ‘Come, my friend, we will go for a stroll in the cloisters.’

  Olivia watched the two men leave the room, aware that without them she was at the mercy of the partisans, who would not be as careful of her as their leader. They spoke only in Spanish, which was conducted rapidly and noisily with a great deal of laughter and ribald comment which was too complicated for her to follow. One or two eyed her appreciatively, but she pretended not to notice and tucked into her meal. One thing she had learned while following the drum was that if food was set before you, you ate while you had the chance, because you never knew where your next meal would be coming from. Loss of appetite because you were worried, in love or bereaved was a foolish indulgence.

  After half an hour or so, Robert and Don Santandos returned with their arms on each other’s shoulders, as if they had been the best of friends all their lives. Whatever Robert had had to say, it had certainly changed the guerrilla’s attitude towards him. Don Santandos filled two glasses with wine and handed one to the Englishman. ‘To Ciudad Rodrigo and the confusion of the enemy,’ he said, clinking his glass against Robert’s.

  ‘Ciudad Rodrigo?’ Olivia queried in alarm. ‘Did I hear aright?’

  Robert smiled at her. ‘You did, my love. I leave at first light.’

  ‘What about me?’ It was almost a plea.

  ‘You will stay here until your husband returns,’ Don Santandos said.

  ‘A hostage!’ she shouted at Robert. ‘You mean to leave me here as a hostage? You came all this way to find me and now you are going to abandon me to these…these…’ His warning look cut off what she was going to say and she gaped at him with her mouth open.

  ‘You will be well treated as befits the wife of an English officer,’ Don Santandos said. You have my word on that.’

  ‘I will not stay.’

  ‘You will obey me.’ If Robert hoped his quiet manner would make her mind him, he was wrong.

  ‘No!’ she shouted. ‘Never! You have no right…’

  ‘On the contrary, my sweet, I have the right of a husband…’

  ‘To abandon me? I shall…I shall…’ The men, sensing a marital tiff, were laughing and waiting to see what the English officer would do to assert his authority, and Olivia realised she was in a very precarious position. If they discovered she was not married to Robert, her value as a hostage would be nothing and they would do what they wanted with her — rape her, kill her or both, and there would be little Robert could do to save her, even if he wanted to. Anything could happen. She needed the protection of Robert’s name, however little it afforded, and as he and the guerrilla leader now seemed to be on excellent terms it behoved her to be less outspoken. She softened her tone. ‘I am sorry, Don Santandos, but Robert has had this ridiculous plan ever since we were reunited yesterday. I thought he simply wanted revenge because of what the Frenchman had done to me. The man is dead and I can see no point in courting trouble.’

  ‘You flatter yourself, ma’am,’ Robert said coldly. ‘It has nothing to do with you and what you did or did not do. I will deal with that when I have more time to consider a suitable punishment. We have a war to win. The French must be driven from the whole Peninsula, and, if I can help my Spanish friends to achieve that, then that is what I will do.’ He smiled at Don Santandos. ‘My wife has a French uniform coat which will do me very well, but I need a pair of breeches.’

  Don Santandos laughed, clicked his fingers and gave an order. One of his men ran from the room and returned with an armful of French uniforms which he dropped on the floor. ‘Take your pick,’ he said. ‘Their former owners have no use for them now.’

  Olivia knew the uniforms had been taken from the solidiers guarding the baggage train. A year before she would have been horrified at the idea of someone wearing dead men’s clothes, but is happened so often she had even become used to it. She watched as Robert crossed the room to select a pair of breeches, but she had not given up the fight yet. She turned to Don Santandos. ‘You know, señor,’ she said calmly, ‘if Robert walks into the French lines alone he has no hope at all of succeeding in what he is planning to do.’

  ‘He is willing to try, and if he would rather face death at the hands of the French than one of dishonour as a nobody, then I, for one, salute him. You, Mrs Lynmount, should be able to understand
that.’

  ‘Oh, I do, but is it necessary to hold me as a hostage? I am no use to you here.’

  ‘I did not demand it; it was the captain’s idea.’

  ‘Was it, now?’ She was thoughtful. Robert had wanted her to help him, so why had he changed his mind, if the partisans had not forced him to leave her behind? Was it because he was concerned for her safety or simply that he did not trust her? Either way she had to proceed carefully. ‘Do you wish him to succeed?’ she asked.

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Whatever it is you have cooked up between you.’

  ‘It would help.’ He shrugged. ‘But if he does not it is all the same to me.’

  ‘I could help him. With me, his chance of surviving and returning to you would be doubled. I have been in the town. I know where Ph ——’ she corrected herself quickly ‘— where the Frenchman lodged. His papers and belongings are there. With them, Robert could pass himself off as a French officer. I could tell everyone how we were captured by guerrilleros and escaped after you left him for dead. It would be more convincing, don’t you think?’ He appeared to be considering what she was saying and she pressed home her point. ‘I also speak perfect French and he does not; he would have to remain silent.’

  ‘As a once hanged man that would be acceptable.’

  ‘Yes, but if he needs to ask or answer questions — what then?’

  ‘How do we know you would not immediately make your escape or inform the French of our whereabouts?’

  ‘Don Santandos, we do not know your whereabouts. Take us down to the main road blindfold.’

  ‘Then how could Captain Lynmount return with his intelligence?’

  ‘Arrange a meeting place.’

  Robert returned with a pair of breeches over his arm. ‘Come, my love, let us go to bed; I must be up betimes.’ He paused and looked from one to the other. ‘What have you been scheming now, Olivia?’

  ‘I have been telling Don Santandos that I know my way about Ciudad Rodrigo and I speak perfect French. He is considering allowing me to accompany you.’