by Mary Nichols
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Don Santandos needs a hostage.’
‘No, he does not.’ She turned to the Spaniard. ‘You don’t, do you? You will take our word?’
Don Santandos laughed, as if amused by her persistence. ‘I will think about it.’
Robert made no attempt to hide his annoyance. He grabbed her arm and dragged her back to their cell. ‘What are you playing at?’ he demanded as soon as they were alone. ‘Yesterday you would not even consider coming with me. What is going on in that perverse head of yours?’
She laughed. ‘What did you say about the lesser of two evils? I do not want to be left behind with these men. Don Santandos may promise to keep me safe, but he cannot watch all his men all the time, and if I am not allowed a gun how can I defend myself? I would rather take my chances on the road between here and Ciudad Rodrigo.’
He stood and looked at her in astonishment. ‘You mean you would pretend to be coming with me and then run away? Have you no honour?’
‘I don’t need to give my parole; only you need do that. And let me remind you of your own words yet again: “My honour is my own affair”.’
He laughed. ‘Do you think Don Santandos will not think of that?’
‘He might not. You are supposed to be my husband and responsible for me; your word covers me too.’
‘And if I refuse to take you on the grounds I cannot trust you to keep my word?’
‘You will not refuse because it was what you have wanted all along. Now, as you are apparently fully recovered, I shall take the bed. You may sleep on the floor.’ With that she sat on the edge of the bed, which was certainly not big enough for two in any case, pulled off her boots, threw him one of the two blankets, rolled herself in the other and lay down to sleep. She could hear him chuckling as he made himself as comfortable as possible, using the French uniform as a pillow.
She had become accustomed to sleeping lightly, and his efforts to creep from the room just before dawn woke her. She sat up immediately, pulled on her boots, and followed him. ‘Did you think you could leave me behind?’ she queried. ‘It was not very galant of you.’
‘Don Santandos will not let you go,’ he said, striding along the dark corridors as if he had the eyes of a cat. ‘I mean to travel fast.’
‘I can out-ride you any day.’
He laughed. ‘Boasting again, Olivia? Do you know, in ancient Rome, boasting which could not be substantiated was considered a crime?’
‘Don’t change the subject. Yesterday, before we came here, you wanted me to go with you; you almost begged me to help you.’
‘Begged, Olivia? I never beg.’
‘Asked me, then. What has changed your mind?’
They came out of the corridor into the huge room where they had dined the evening before. No one had cleared the table; it was still covered with half-eaten food, half-filled wine glasses, chicken bones, empty bottles. Don Santandos was already there. He had swept aside the debris at the end of the table in order to spread out a map. He folded it up when he saw them and beckoned them over.
‘Good morning, Captain.’ Then to Olivia, ‘Good morning, Mrs Lynmount. Have you come to bid your husband a fond farewell?’
‘No, I go too.’
He turned to Robert. ‘What do you say, my friend? Will she be an asset or a liability?’
Robert laughed. ‘The question is, will she be more of a hindrance to you? Her presence might very well cause dissension among the men, especially as you have no women in your party at all.’
‘You think I cannot control my own followers?’ he demanded. ‘Why should I even try?’
‘You gave your word, Don Santandos, as I have given mine.’
‘So I did.’ He laughed. ‘What she needs is a duenna.’
‘Certainly not!’ Olivia snapped, painting a mental picture of a huge Spanish woman set to guard her against the men and watch her every move. She would never have a moment to herself, nor be able to escape.
‘I fear she would be a handful even then,’ Robert said mildly. ‘Let her come; I will take responsibility for her.’
‘I wish you would not talk about me as if I were baggage,’ Olivia put in angrily. ‘I have something to say in what happens to me; I am not an inanimate object.’
They both turned to look at her and then simultaneously burst into laughter. ‘Oh, my darling,’ Robert said. ‘I love you even more when you are angry.’
His declaration silenced her. It had slipped so easily from his tongue. Was that because he was practised at lulling women with words of love, or because it was true? She stopped her errant thoughts instantly. They were both acting out a charade and the reality was very different. At this particular moment, they were useful to each other, and hers was the greater need.
‘I do not envy you, Captain,’ Don Santandos said. ‘I think I would rather face a regiment of Boney’s crack troops than be married to such a one. Take her. Take her and I wish you joy of her.’ He smiled and turned to Olivia. ‘We fetched the mule. You will find your bundle in the doorway over there and water to wash in your room. Go and make your preparations.’
Olivia was reluctant to obey in case Robert still tried to leave without her, but, as usual, he seemed able to read her thoughts; he reached out and touched her arm. ‘I will wait here for you, my dear. Make haste.’
As she left, Don Santandos opened the map again. When she returned, refreshed and, once again, dressed in her own skirt and blouse, they were still deep in discussion. Seeing her, Don Santandos smiled and folded up the map and the two men went out to the courtyard with Olivia silently following, every nerve tense in case they should, even now, try to leave her behind. A small escort party was assembled in the courtyard where Robert’s horse stood ready saddled and beside it a grey which was almost as big. It was a beautiful mount, better than any Philippe had had.
‘I am afraid we have no side-saddle, Mrs Lynmount,’ Don Santandos said.
Robert laughed. ‘My wife is accustomed to riding astride. She has been doing it ever since she was old enough to sit a pony.’
Olivia opened her mouth to ask him how he knew that, but bit her tongue instead and went over to the horse’s head to make its acquaintance, stroking its nose and fondling its ears. ‘You are a beauty,’ she said, then to Don Santandos, ‘What is he called?’
‘Pegasus.’
She laughed and, in one swift movement, leapt into the saddle. ‘The winged horse. I like it.’ The animal was restive, but she controlled it easily. ‘How are we going to explain the horses when we arrive in Ciudad Rodrigo?’
‘You will not have them then. Remember you have escaped a hanging. You will arrive footsore and bedraggled.’
‘Oh.’ She was crestfallen, but she could see the sense of that. ‘Shall we make a start?’
She did not notice one of the escort ride up alongside her until he threw a bag over her head and held it down as she struggled. ‘Be still, Mrs Lynmount,’ Don Santandos said mildly. ‘It is only until you are down the mountain.’
‘But I cannot see where I am going.’
‘Your husband will lead you.’
She assumed from this that Robert was not to be blindfolded and it made her wonder once again what he had said to the partisan leader to make such a change in their relationship. Either they now trusted each other or each was playing a game of deception, a kind of double bluff. And she was in the middle of it.
The reins were taken from her hands and the horse moved forward. It was uncomfortable and unnerving not to be able to see, but Pegasus seemed sure-footed enough; all she had to do was keep her seat. At first she was aware that they were on a reasonably smooth road and then that they had branched off and were moving very sharply downhill. She could hear the river not far away and the scuffing of hoofs on the uneven ground. She tried counting the sounds as they moved over a particular piece of stony ground, one horse, then another, then another. There was a rider ahead of Robert, who w
as leading Pegasus, and there were several more, perhaps as many as four, following her. And the path must be narrow for them to be riding single file. There seemed to be no hope of galloping off alone and escaping — not yet. At some point, the guerrilleros would have to leave her and Robert to finish the journey alone; then she would try her luck.
She tried to gauge their direction by the feel of the sun on her back and the sound of the river, and guessed they were making their way down the mountain on the opposite side of the gorge from the one she and Robert had taken two days before. If that was so, before long they would arrive at the village where the bridge had been blown. And not too far from that was the main road into Portugal. She would be patient.
Her guess had been right. When the sun was at its highest, they reached the valley floor, and here they sweltered, particularly Olivia, muffled as she was by the bag over her head. She cried out to be released.
‘Let her out,’ she heard Robert say to someone. ‘If you do not, she will faint and fall off.’
She heard Don Santandos laugh and say, ‘I had forgotten her.’ The bag came off her head and she drew in great gulps of air before looking about her.
They were riding down the main street of the village she had seen from the other side of the river. There were women at the doors of their homes and children playing in the street, but few men. Husbands, sons and fathers, she guessed, were with the partisans in the hills. They stopped at the door of a house next to the church and a thin, agile-looking priest came hurrying out of the house and shook the guerrilla leader by the hand. ‘Welcome, Miguel, my old friend.’ He eyed Robert and Olivia as he spoke, unsure whether they were friend or foe, especially as Robert was wearing the French uniform. ‘Prisoners?’ he queried.
‘Yes and no, Father Peredo. They have a role to play and I need you to make sure they play it well. This is Captain Robert Lynmount and his lady wife. Their story is an interesting one.’
The priest, who could have been no more than forty, smiled and held out his hand to help Olivia dismount. ‘Señora, you are welcome to Villa de Fuentes. Come inside and take some refreshment. We have been all but cleaned out again by the bluecoats, but they do not know all our hiding places.’ He chuckled and led the way into his house. It was sparsely furnished but gloriously cool. ‘Sit down, please.’
‘Where are the French?’ Robert asked him as they obeyed.
‘In Ciudad Rodrigo, but likely to move out at any time.’ He laughed again and clicked his fingers at a servant girl and ordered food and wine to be brought, before continuing. ‘They have been held up, as usual, for lack of supplies. It seems the countryside is much poorer than they had been led to believe. And they are maddened by the blowing of the bridge.’
‘Good,’ Don Santandos said, making himself at home in the priest’s most comfortable chair. ‘We have plans for delaying them further, but they depend on the Englishman here.’
‘He has been wounded?’
‘He has been hanged. He is a thief. He is also a deserter.’
‘And you trust him?’ The little priest sounded astonished.
‘There are deserters from both sides hiding in the hills,’ Don Santandos said mildly. ‘Buzzing gnats, who are no more than a nuisance, but if one of them has a compelling reason for wanting to help us, why should we turn him down? But you must watch him.’
‘I, play nursemaid?’
‘You are allowed to come and go freely among the French soldiers but, you must admit, they do not altogether trust you. We need another string to our bow.’
The priest laughed. ‘It is as well they cannot see all I do. But what is the Englishman going to do?’
‘The señora came out of Ciudad Rodrigo with a French officer; she will return with one.’ He laughed. ‘Slightly the worse for wear.’
‘I see.’
‘I want you to make sure they stay with the French until they find out when the army is marching and in which direction.’
‘Supposing we cannot find that out?’ Olivia asked. ‘Supposing someone discovers we are impostors?’
‘You had better pray that does not happen,’ Miguel Santandos said, as the servant arrived with the food. It was simple but substantial and they were all silent while they ate, each busy with his or her own thoughts. Olivia was beginning to wonder what she had allowed herself to be drawn into; every word Don Santandos uttered seemed to be loaded with menace and the opportunity to escape was looking less and less possible.
Half an hour later, Don Santandos rose to go. ‘I will bid you goodbye, Captain,’ he said to Robert. ‘Leave the horses here — the padre knows where to hide them. If you return alive with the information we seek, then you are welcome to keep them as a recompense for your services.’ He smiled ruefully, as if reluctant to admit a weakness. ‘The black is useless to us in any case — he would not let anyone else near him; one of my men has a lump the size of a hen’s egg on his shin.’
Robert grinned at Olivia with a look that said clearly, Did I not tell you so?
Don Santandos turned from them and knelt at the feet of the priest. ‘Bless me, Father, before I go.’
‘Do you not go to see your wife?’ the priest asked, making the sign of the cross over the supplicant’s bent head.
‘No. Each time I do, it is worse. When the enemy is defeated, then I will go home.’ He rose and shook Robert by the hand. ‘Good luck, my friend. We shall be on the look-out for you.’ He turned to Olivia and grinned. ‘Goodbye, my valiant señora.’ Then he left the room, followed by the rest of his men, leaving Robert and Olivia facing the priest.
‘I will show you the road,’ he said.
They followed him from the house and he stood in the road with the wind blowing his skirts about his legs and pointed towards the east. ‘A mile or so along the road you will find a shrine, behind which is a narrow path. It will take you across country and bring you out on the road again two miles short of the town. But be careful, the bluecoats are everywhere. Do not speak English. You, Captain, would do well not to speak at all. Are you armed?’
‘No. The guerrilleros would not have been so careless as to leave weapons where we could take them.’
The priest’s face creased in a smile and he took Olivia’s hand. ‘God bless you, child. May the good Virgin reward your courage with a long life and fine sons.’ He turned to Robert. ‘Look after her, Captain, and may the Lord shine on your endeavours and bring us victory.’
They bade him goodbye and set off down the road on foot, striding side by side, until they were out of sight.
‘Now what?’ she demanded when they had been walking in silence for half an hour.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Are you still going to Ciudad Rodrigo? Are you determined to put your head in another noose? Because if you are, let me tell you I shall not be there to shoot you down a second time.’
‘If you could do it again.’
‘Of course I could. If I had a gun…’
He laughed. ‘Do you know, I am rather glad you do not? I should feel decidedly unsafe.’
‘If I had wanted to shoot you, I would have done so when I had the chance.’
‘Instead you saved me,’ he said softly. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘I was angry, I told you. They had hanged one husband; I…’ She stopped suddenly. Whatever was she saying? ‘It seemed the only thing to do. And you had stolen the mule for me.’
‘You did not know that at the time.’
‘No.’
He turned to look at her. There was a purpose and lightness in her stride which suggested she could keep walking all day — not a bit like Juana, who was so delicate he was almost afraid to touch her, lest she shatter. Juana would have demanded a carriage and a trunk full of clothes before she went anywhere at all. He smiled suddenly. Juana would never have allowed herself to get into this kind of situation in the first place. Olivia looked just as delicate with her finely chiselled features and slim frame, but her appearance was
obviously deceptive. Had she always been so sturdily independent, he wondered, or had she learned it in the hard school of an army marriage?
‘Who taught you to shoot?’ he asked. ‘Was it your first husband?’
She smiled. ‘No, Tom never felt comfortable with a gun, even though his father worked for my father. Papa manufactures arms, you see. When I was quite small I used to go out with Papa testing new weapons, and that’s when I learned to shoot.’
‘What did your mother say to that? Surely she did not approve?’
‘I never knew my mother. Papa is all I had.’ Her light laugh was a little unnatural. I think he was disappointed I was not a boy.’
‘I am sorry,’ he said softly, resisting the impulse to take her arm.
She shrugged. ‘Don’t be. I had a wonderful childhood.’
‘But growing up was painful, eh?’
She looked up at him sharply. Did he really understand or was he just making polite conversation? ‘It was precarious to say the least, but done with now. All I want is to go back home and be with my father again.’
‘Instead you are tramping towards an enemy-held town with a man you do not trust, in a cause you do not support…’
‘Who said I did not support it?’ she demanded. ‘Just because I think you are mad, it does not mean I do not want us to win this war. But it is for armies to win battles, not lone men and women.’
‘Armies are made up of lone men, each doing his duty as he sees it.’
‘But you have no duty; you have been discharged. Why were you turned out, by the way?’
‘You heard Don Santandos. I am a thief.’
He watched her carefully for signs of shock or outrage, but there was nothing to see but clear green eyes in a countenance which smiled more often than it frowned. Why was she always so damned cheerful? She had nothing to be cheerful about.
They turned off at the shrine as they had been directed and walked along a narrow path which ran through a cherry orchard, although most of its trees had been stripped of their fruit, probably by a hungry soldiery. There were bee skips among the trees which reminded him forcefully of the aftermath of the summer battles the year before; honey was a favourite with the troops and they risked being stung to loot it. He shook himself; he did not want to be reminded of looting in any shape or form. He forced himself to think ahead, to plan what he would do once he was in Ciudad Rodrigo. It would not be easy, but with Olivia…