by A L Berridge
‘Not much we can do about that then, is there, Señor?’ says I.
‘Is there not?’ says my gentleman, with a little smile. ‘If we picket this road secretly, who knows what we might catch?’
And at that moment, Señor, at that very moment, we hear the sound of a horse approaching from the east, and faint in the air we hear a man singing.
Jacques Gilbert
The light died very slowly that day.
It was still warm in the early evening, and the sun was giving that sort of gentle, mellow light that colours everything like a stained-glass window. Stefan was wearing a deep-red shirt, and it blazed up and made him look like one of the rougher apostles. The grass was that kind of rich, golden green that almost hurts your eyes, and the trees glowed like dark fire.
Everything was quiet. There wasn’t any more training going on, there wasn’t any point, we were ready, and it was now. We were waiting in a half-hearted kind of way to see if Crespin was going to bring any last-minute instructions, but we didn’t really expect him, it felt like that was over and done. People were spending last time with their families, or just sitting chatting with their friends, but all speaking in low voices, like we were in church.
A blackbird started up singing when the light began to fade. It stuck itself high in a beech tree where everyone could see it, and sang and trilled away for ages like it was giving us a concert. The boy was sitting hunched over a last letter to Anne, and I remember him lifting his head to listen, the glow of the sun warm on his face. A bit of me wondered if I oughtn’t to be telling him the truth, and how I’d feel if he died without ever knowing I was his brother, then I told myself if he died I was bloody well going to die too, and not worry about any of that old stuff, the things that happened before we were either of us born. What mattered was what was happening now, these summer evening moments that felt like the last there’d ever be.
Some of the men were strolling into the woods with women, and Stefan actually took two. I remember Marcel looking after them, something sad in his eyes. Giles was away longer than anyone, and when he emerged again he hadn’t got his usual smug expression, he was looking sort of dazed, and holding Margot’s hand. I could have done the same thing myself, I suppose, but I somehow didn’t fancy it. I’d got this strange kind of peaceful feeling coming over me, like when you’ve just come out of Confession, feeling you never want to do anything bad ever again. Normally that only lasts about two minutes, but this evening I felt like it might last for ever, however long for ever was going to be.
After a while, people started to drift off to their homes, or where they needed to be for the start of the action, until in the end there was nobody left but us, and the light was gone at last. It’s funny, I kept feeling the others were somehow still there with us. I could almost hear the ghost of that blackbird singing in the dark.
Carlos Corvacho
It’s the letter gets my Capitán most excited, Señor, but it’s all in code, and the courier in no state to tell us anything, being deep unconscious from being knocked off his horse by my boar-spear. It’s coming on dark too, and no time to hang around, so we bundle him up on my horse and ride back fast as we can to the barracks.
My gentleman locks himself away with the Colonel, and they spend hours poring over that cipher with no result at all. Then the courier starts stirring at last, so we douse him with cold water till he starts to mumble, then our officers take turns at him, demanding to know who the letter was for and what was in it. We were sure he knew something, Señor, the use of the code told us that. A code’s no good unless you’ve got people writing to each other regular; it had to be one of a series. The courier had to be regular too, he knew exactly where he was going, he should be able to tell us all we wanted to know.
Well, able he may have been, but willing he was not. A very young man he was, very frightened, but very brave. He claimed he was only a courier, he knew nothing of what was in the letter or how to find the recipient, he said they always came to meet him on the road, which we didn’t believe for a moment, Señor, the timing would have been impossible. So the Capitán keeps on asking, until at last the man says ‘I tell you, I don’t know, I’m not important enough, the Maréchal would never confide in someone like me.’
‘The Maréchal?’ says the Colonel.
The man shuts his mouth fast, but now we know it’s serious. There’s an army out there somewhere in communication with our rebels, and that can only be bad for us.
‘Put him to the question,’ says the Colonel. ‘Now.’
Jacques Gilbert
We were in the Forge by midnight. The wagons were already in place, one laden with barrels outside Les Étoiles, and two filled with pitch and straw standing innocently by the bakery. Everything looked ready.
We were just sitting down to eat when Arnould Rousseau came shambling in. He scrabbled on his wig at sight of Mme Lefebvre, refused an offer of lentil soup with a sort of shudder, and said ‘Rope’s in place, and the password’s San Isidoro of Sevilla. Bloody silly, but there it is. I picked it up twice, I’m quite sure.’
He was a miracle, Arnould, he really was. He’d spent the last months wandering all over the south wing of the barracks to get the information we needed, he’d gone everywhere bringing food to people who’d never asked for it, but the Spaniards just thought he was mad and left him alone. I could understand that actually, I mean when someone cooks as well as Arnould you don’t bother about little things like him being insane.
There was nothing to do after he’d gone, so we changed into our Spanish dress and sat in the Forge to wait. It was warm in there, and I was feeling almost drowsy as I watched Colin hammering. The Spaniards might not buy the spit he was making for them but someone would, people will always want iron.
The boy was staring into the fire without blinking; it made my eyeballs feel dry just to watch him. The light was flickering over his face, and I found myself remembering a night four years ago, and a twelve-year-old boy watching the burning of his home. I realized he’d made a promise all the way back then, and tonight was the night we were going to make it good.
Carlos Corvacho
My gentleman never could bear torture, especially the rack, he’d a real horror of it. He came striding into his office, and I only just got a basin to him in time.
He wiped his face, clenched the sides of the basin, and said ‘He is crying for his mother.’
I said ‘Why don’t you go to bed now, Señor? The Colonel’s in charge, isn’t he?’
The Colonel never missed an interrogation, Señor, he’d quite a fascination with them. He wrote a poem once called ‘The Mastery of the Body’, all about the dialogue during torture between the soul and body. I’m told it’s very moving.
My gentleman went to the mirror to adjust himself and smooth his moustache.
‘There are nearly four hundred men in this garrison, Carlos, two at the Château, and two more at Verdâme, to say nothing of those billeted around the villages, and the wives and followers. Would you have them all die because I had not the stomach to hurt an enemy soldier?’
He was a very fine officer, my Capitán. A fine man.
I said ‘No, Señor.’
He said ‘No.’ He straightened his ruff, pulled down his sleeves, and patted down his hair, carefully arranging it to hide that hateful little scar.
The village clock struck half after three. My gentleman took one step to the door, and then the whole floor seemed to shake, Señor, it juddered and went still. The little vase of lilies went down bang on his desk, spilling water all over his papers. In the distance we heard something like a great boom.
Jacques Gilbert
We were waiting in the little back yard when it came. There was this distant rumbling, the ground trembled, and the sky lit up in a purple flash from the direction of Verdâme. It must have been a belter of an explosion for us to feel it this far away, but then I suppose it would be. We’d blown up the Verdâme barracks.
M.
Lefebvre hoisted me so I could scramble on to the roof, then the boy after me. We crept to the barracks wall, keeping low so as not to make an obvious lump against the sky. The knotted rope was there, hanging down just as it ought to be, practically invisible next to the decorative stone piping. It smelt of rotten cabbage too, which wasn’t surprising since we’d smuggled it in to Arnould by tying it round a cartload of vegetables. We crouched beside it, waiting.
A crash below told us the courtyard gates were opening, and a minute later the first horsemen came galloping out. There were more even than we’d hoped, maybe even a hundred, all heading for Verdâme and safely out of our way. Better still, there was an imposing figure in bright blue at the head of them, so Don Francisco was leading them himself. It would have been nice if d’Estrada had gone too, but I suppose you can’t have everything.
We waited till the first of them made a screen between us and the Gate Guards, then the boy was up and climbing, with me hard behind. It was only a short haul to the third storey from the Forge roof, and in ten seconds the boy’s legs were vanishing through the window. Two more knots up, and I was at the sill myself and wriggling through to join him in the store-room. We hauled the rope inside, then paused a second to catch our breath and straighten our clothes.
We’d known about the storeroom, of course, but it still felt unfamiliar and frightening, especially in the dark. I remember getting a sudden panic this mightn’t be the right room at all, we could be standing here brushing ourselves down in somebody’s bedroom and they were watching us thinking we were mad. Then as my eyes adjusted to the darkness I saw drums piled on the floor, a rack of pipes and flutes, and a load of tall thin things wrapped in canvas I guessed were flags. Arnould had got it right this time, and we were safe.
We could hear noises on the floor below us, footsteps and doors opening and voices, and guessed a lot of people must have been woken by the explosion. There were company officers living all over that floor, clerks, barbers, surgeons, musicians, and it sounded like every one of them was up and about. At least it seemed quiet outside our own door, so after pressing our ears against it for a moment we pushed it open and stepped out.
The third floor was a barren sort of place, mainly stores and servants and defaulters’ cells, and there was nothing to see but a landing of rough bare boards and a load of doors like the one we’d just come out of. There were a few windows on the courtyard side, all of that thick glass with swirly round bumps that make you think of women’s breasts, but nothing else, just dirty walls. There wasn’t much light either, just two sconces for the whole landing, but it was bright enough to see the boy’s face. He was astonishingly calm, and I felt sort of shut out and on my own.
We started walking towards the tower room, our boots seeming to crash on the boards at every step. I was counting the doors we passed, waiting for the sixth, the one with the little grille. Third door, fourth, and a girl started up laughing in a room behind us and my heart jumped halfway into my throat, fifth door, but then the boy stopped in front of me and we were there. I suddenly didn’t feel ready, I wanted more time, I needed to remember what we’d got to do, but the boy’s hand was raised, he was knocking on the door and it was too late.
A gruff voice from the other side demanded ‘Contraseña?’
The boy’s mouth opened, then I saw a curious desperation come over his face and realized he’d forgotten the password. It’s funny, but that made me feel better, it’s like he was human after all.
I said ‘San Isidoro de Sevilla.’ He grinned at me in relief, and I tried to grin back. My cheekbones felt stiff, like I hadn’t used them in ages.
The voice said ‘Fucking idiot, that was yesterday.’
The shock was awful, and I found myself thinking stupidly we ought to have thought of that, they probably changed it at midnight. The next second the door was being unlocked anyway, and a laughing soldier opened it to let us in.
I suppose it’s just human nature. Officers forget about that when they come up with these rules for security, they forget it’s ordinary people who’ve got to carry them out, and no one takes them seriously when it’s stupid things like having a password inside your own barracks. So the man just said ‘Idiots!’ in a friendly kind of way, and that was it, we stepped inside and André closed the door with his left hand. His knife was in his right.
As he thrust up from under his cloak, I moved clear into the room, which is when I got my next shock, because there was a second guard sitting on the table, his grin fading as he took in what was happening. Arnould had guessed only one, because the soldiers used to moan what a lonely job it was, but there was this other man with his mouth opening to yell and I hadn’t even got my knife ready. I punched him hard as I could on the jaw, and he crashed back against the wall. André jumped round in alarm, and a second later a voice called down from beyond the wooden steps. The guard in the watchtower was asking what was up.
I had a hand over my man’s mouth now, and finished the job with my knife, while André called up in his gruffest voice ‘Fucking idiot!’ then laughed. The guard above us laughed in return and went quiet.
So did we. There wasn’t even a door between him and us.
We bundled the bodies quickly under the table and stood staring at the door in silence, wondering how long before four o’clock when the relief came. My breathing seemed to take ages to slow down, I felt like the guard in the tower would hear it. I was hot too, we’d got those thick black Spanish coats on over our shirts, and I felt a line of sweat trickling down the side of my face. I glanced at André and saw he was the same, his chest was heaving and his upper lip damp. He saw me looking, wiped it with the back of his hand and gave me a rueful little smile.
I smiled back, and suddenly it was just him and me again, waiting for an ambush like we’d done scores of times over the years. I got control of my breathing, wiped my palm down my breeches, adjusted my grip on the knife and stared firmly at the door. The wood was grey and scratchy and the knots black with age. One looked like the face of a man with a beard.
There were footsteps coming up the corridor, then a sharp knock on the door. André cleared his throat and asked for the password, and they actually said the same as we did, they said ‘San Isidoro’, so we laughed and called them idiots, then let them through the door and killed them. I don’t want to say any more about that, because actually it was horrid. They were just ordinary people like us, they made mistakes and joked about it, they were men I’d have got on with. But we’d got no choice. There wasn’t time to go tying them up and gagging them, we’d got no choice.
There was only the guard in the tower left. We went up the rickety steps that led to the roof and along the wooden tunnel, then there in front of us was the tower ladder, disappearing up into a round hole in the platform where the guard stood. On the other side of the ladder was the door on to the roof that had scared us so much when that man came out to piss.
I didn’t use the password, it felt silly, I just called up ‘¡Hola!’ and the guard called it back, and next minute his shoes and stockings appeared in the opening as he started to climb down. He was expecting it, of course, he knew it had gone four, he’d heard voices in the anteroom and thought it was his relief arriving, he wasn’t thinking about anything except getting back to his mess, and maybe having a drink before grabbing a bit of sleep. He climbed down like you’d expect, facing the ladder and with his back to us, it was the easiest kill we’d ever made. Then the boy was swinging himself up like a monkey up a tree, and I unbolted the door on the other side and stepped out on to the roof.
The wind hit me at once. I sheltered behind one of those little mock towers to fumble the cords out of my pockets, then put my head down and walked quickly towards the rear, the bit looking down on the south end of the Backs. The stone lions were where we’d remembered, so I lowered the weighted cord into the dark. A minute later there was a tug on the end, I hauled it back up and there was the first rope ladder. There was something else attached
to the top rung and that was a small flask, tied on by the neck. It was a lovely touch, that flask. It was Giles giving me a drink, like having him next to me saying ‘Well done.’ I had a quick slug and the spirit shot into my head, giving me a great rush of something as I realized what we’d achieved.
I looped the ladder round the first lion, tied the flask on to the cord and lowered it down again to Giles. I couldn’t see him in the dark, but it made all the difference knowing he was there. We got the other two ladders up, I secured them on the last two lions, and that was our escape route in place. It was also the way up for Giles’ men, and that was a good feeling too. They weren’t coming till just before five, they couldn’t do it till Bruno’s team had taken out the back gate guards, but it made me feel help was on the way.
I set off back to the tower, but the boy was already out, he was standing by the door with his hands in his pockets and an odd little smile on his face. I went to him quickly, but he didn’t say anything, he just took my arm and said ‘Come and look, Jacques. Just look.’
I followed him up to the platform. It was a really rubbish bit of work, that tower, with two of us on the ladder it felt like the whole thing was wobbling. I squeezed halfway through the hole at the top till I’d run out of ladder to stand on, then gripped the flagpole that went all the way up through the roof, and hauled myself on to the platform. The boy didn’t even look round as I came up, he was pressed against the wall, staring through one of those tiny little slits of windows. I stood next to him, found another slit and peered through.
I couldn’t see anything at first. It was still dark, of course, and it took me a minute to get my bearings and work out what I was seeing through a hole that small. Then I saw I’d got a view right over the plain and the beech forest on the horizon.