‘I have already told you. Why were you allowed to see him doing so? Whoever arranged that will be the real traitor. How soon can your men be ready to march?’
Markham looked at Rannoch, whose opinion was likely to be more accurate than his own. As usual, in what appeared to be a crisis, the Highlander answered slowly.
‘We have no coats, your honour, and we have returned the guns and ammunition.’
‘Given those?’
‘We are ready as soon as you want to leave.’
‘Lieutenant, organise your men while I find my niece. I will get her to take you to the armoury and see you fully equipped.’
‘Do you have any British weapons there, sir?’ asked Rannoch.
‘Twenty stands of Brown Bess muskets, Sergeant, with bayonets and cartridges.’
Paoli turned to leave, but Rannoch wasn’t finished with him. ‘From which manufactuary, your honour?’
‘Birmingham.’
‘Hirst and Waller?’
‘You know your guns, Sergeant.’
‘It helps me survive, sir.’
Markham, still slightly shocked, suddenly returned to the real world. ‘Clothing, General Paoli.’
‘Will have to be Corsican, since we have no others to provide.’
‘Do we march for San Fiorenzo?’
‘No, Lieutenant. We go to Aleria, which is on the east coast.’ He could see the question in Markham’s eyes, and paused just long enough to stretch his eagerness to know. ‘In that despatch you brought, Admiral Hood offered me a ship to save time. There is a Royal Navy sloop at Aleria, waiting to take me to where I need to be.’
Paoli turned to leave, but Markham’s voice stopped him. ‘I have to know, General, would you have undertaken this journey without that despatch?’
‘I cannot say, Lieutenant.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I do not know the answer.’
They were back through the gates within two hours, Paoli ahead on his horse. Magdalena was Commandatore Calheri once more, in breeches and short dark jacket, with a carbine over her shoulders, Markham’s troops, dressed in the same uniform, marching along behind. It had been a disappointment to the marine officer when the General designated his niece’s female soldiers as his main escort, instead of the male garrison of Corte. His men, however, were as pleased as punch. Some of them had even got a smile as the two groups formed up, and harboured high hopes of turning those shy grins into something more substantial before the journey was completed.
Aleria was straight down the valley of the River Tavigiano, which twisted along a valley floor hemmed in by huge mountains, the foothills coated with the inevitable maccia. As they marched the old man was able to relive the battle they’d fought on the Morosaglia trail. The details of the action produced cries of wonder from his lips, with an inordinate amount of praise bestowed on his niece and her troopers. It was an indication of how struck the Lobsters were with the idea of rogering the lot of them that they didn’t resent this.
‘Uncle, we must move further into the forest,’ Magdalena said, on one of the frequent stops.
‘Of course, my dear.’
‘Lieutenant,’ she said stiffly, ‘please ensure that your men stay on the road.’
Markham just nodded, and watched them file down a path, looking for a place private enough to double as a latrine. ‘Why don’t we stop in the towns?’
‘Two reasons, Lieutenant,’ the old man replied. ‘I cannot enter any Corsican municipality without being afforded a reception. Given that, I have to stay and show that the hospitality is welcome. To show gratitude, in other words. Speeches are called for, drink is consumed and if I am not there till after dark, insult is taken.’
‘Which means you cannot travel fast enough?’
‘Nor discreetly enough. The camp at Cardo would know of my coming before I had gone twenty miles.’ Markham opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated. The old man gave him that knowing, sometimes infuriating smile. ‘You have something you wish to say?’
‘Yes. Bellamy was told, in no uncertain terms, that there were traitors active in Corte. What is to stop one of them using the road, which is a faster route even if it is longer, to get to Cardo before us?’
‘The gates of Corte were shut behind us, young man. The garrison, which I think you would have been happier to bring along with us …’
‘I … em …’ stuttered Markham.
‘I saw your face when they formed up. Magdalena you welcome, and I will not inquire why. But her soldiers.’
‘I didn’t know it was that obvious.’
‘If a little self-regard may be allowed, I have trained myself to observe men’s moods. I have had to hone that skill in order to survive. I think that I was the only one who noticed. Anyway, the garrison will keep those gates shut, and patrol the walls to ensure that no one leaves without declaring themselves.’
‘Is that protection enough?’
‘Probably not. I regret to say that the society of this island is not like that.’
‘Whatever possessed you, sir, to form female units?’ Markham asked.
‘We are short of men, a situation made more acute by the actions of clans like the Buonapartes. Our women are fighters, Lieutenant. Don’t ever make the mistake of seeing them as lesser mortals.’
‘Certainly not in the maccia. They use their knifes well. But in open battle?’
‘They will fight, Lieutenant. And what makes you think, anyway, that we face a battle?’
‘There were French dragoons close to here two days ago. And whatever precautions you have taken, news of your journey is bound to leak out.’
‘True. But those who might betray us will be informed that we are on our way to Ajaccio, to confront the Buonapartes.’
‘They would have watched us heading down the Tavigiano valley.’
Paoli smiled. ‘And assumed a bluff. This is a double bluff.’
Markham had to smile too. This old man might be serene and celibate, but he was also one of the most devious sods that George Markham had ever met. Not that he thought they could relax. An accidental encounter with French cavalry was always possible, the risk increasing the closer they got to the coast. When Magdalena returned he tried to engage her in conversation. But she shied away from him, her look having none of the warmth of the previous night.
‘Right,’ he barked, ‘on your feet, let’s get moving.’
The sound of Bellamy groaning, loud and clear, cheered him up a little, and putting him on point restored some of his lost prestige with his men.
‘Yelland, you go with him. Sergeant, two men to drop back, muskets loaded, fire off if anything troubles them.’
‘I think I know of just the pair,’ he replied, and the moaning from Quinlan and Ettrick that followed testified to who he’d chosen. It wasn’t the duty that bothered them so much as being separated from the two women they had their eye on.
‘That moon-faced one with the bit of a ’tache has been giving me come-on eye, and no error,’ said Ettrick. ‘So none of you sods so much as look her way, do you hear?’
‘Trust you to pick the ugliest one,’ replied Dymock.
‘You stick to your slim beauties, mate, and you’ll be glued to your right hand when it’s dark. Not like me. I’ll be cosy, and with a face like that, she’ll be grateful.’
Tully waited till they fell back before speaking. ‘Hey, Dornan, I reckon that one with that black hair on her lips has a likin’ for you.’
Dornan searched the line of women, until he located the one Tully meant. Then he smiled, and flushed when the woman responded.
‘See, what’d I tell you?’
‘Typical,’ hooted Gibbons, ‘All that mooning to Ettrick and as soon as he’s gone he’s a cuckold, the hairy strumpet.’
‘Wait till he finds out it’s a man,’ crooned Leech.
‘Will you lot belay,’ growled Halsey.
‘Just ‘cause your nuts are dried out, Corps, don’t mean ours are.’
Halsey grinned at Leech. ‘Said like a man who wants to stand two watches tonight.’
‘I take it back, Halsey,’ Leech replied. ‘You’ve got the bollocks of a bull.’
The women didn’t march like that, constantly exchanging insults. They weren’t exactly silent, but they tended to speak in low undertones, exchanging small smiles rather than broad grins and jokes. Markham was up with Paoli and his niece, still trying to rekindle some of the previous intimacy, and failing miserably. He prayed it was the presence of her troopers that made her so distant, and that she’d melt a little once they reached their bivouac.
Chapter thirty
Their destination, Aleria, was thirty miles away. It could, by forced marching, be made in one day, but they had set out in the small hours of the morning and marched all day and now, having reached the flat coastal plain, with the sun dipping behind the mountains, Markham insisted on a halt. To keep going didn’t, to him, make sense. Marching in darkness, even moonlight, was a murderous business, and he took pains to remind Paoli that this was a military escort, which had to be able to fight should they come across an unexpected enemy.
Naturally, the old man was in a hurry, fearful that events might have moved on to a crisis point. They’d avoided towns of any size all along the route, even skirting villages where they could, a wise precaution since every time they were obliged to pass through some hamlet, the inhabitants, old and young, came out to touch the Liberator’s hem. That provided another cause for haste; the certainty that news of his presence would travel round the countryside like wildfire, and not always to the ears of people that esteemed him.
Fully equipped now, both units set up camp some six miles from the east coast, with a stream in the middle, a tributary of the Tavigiano, just deep enough to discourage casual crossing. The food was prepared by Calheri’s troopers, which was a blessing, there being not a man in Markham’s unit who could do anything but drop whatever came to hand in hot water or spit-roast it. Paoli, Markham and Magdalena ate together, which helped to thaw her attitude somewhat. The old General seemed to relish the hardship of sleeping in a tent, regaling them with tales of past campaigns. Because he listed all the things which had gone wrong, entirely due to his failure as a military commander, he was extremely amusing, rather than repetitively tedious.
‘Every time I was put at the head of the army, I was amazed we got to where we were going, never mind fought a battle. Luckily, my brother was another Sanpiero Corsa, so I left all that side of things to him, and stuck to preaching the virtues of freedom.’
‘What do you regret, Uncle?’ Magdalena asked suddenly.
The answer was quick and typical. ‘The enemies I’ve made, whom I would rather have had as friends. The affections I have squandered, so that I have lost the love of another human being through what appears to be arrogance, which is just, instead, idleness.’
‘How can you say you are idle after such a life, sir?’
‘With great ease. As a general I fought a war without hardship, safe in the distance issuing stirring commands. Did I stay here and face the sanctions of the victorious Bourbons? No! I fled to London and lived on a royal pension. I should have been like that Scottish hero Boswell told me of, “the Bruce”, and taken to a cave to keep up the struggle.’
Paoli paused for a moment, some of the pain of the years of struggle evident in his expression. Then he smiled suddenly, and added, ‘Children, Magdalena! I certainly envy you your children.’
‘I wonder, Lieutenant?’ she asked suddenly, ‘whether you would object to marching under our flag tomorrow. It would be pleasant to parade into Aleria under the Moor.’
‘I would be delighted,’ Markham replied, pleased that their relations had thawed enough to permit the request. ‘And might I add, I have just the man to carry it.’
Paoli gave a poorly disguised yawn, apologised for it, then said, ‘Riding tires me now. In the old days I used to live in the saddle.’
Magdalena reached over and touched his face, with a tenderness that made Markham envious. ‘Then rest, Uncle.’
They both left his tent, and to Markham’s surprise it was she who suggested that they walk down the riverbank. Though it was encouraging, he sensed that being tactile would be a mistake, so he kept his hands firmly clasped behind his back.
‘It is pleasant being out here, Markham.’
‘I’ve done too much campaigning. Give me a warm bed any day.’
She stopped suddenly and turned to face him. ‘What is it you are offering me, Markham?’
Wisdom, or at least advantage, dictated he lie. And asked a variation of the same question by other women, many times, that was precisely what he’d done. There had been the odd miscalculation, but in the main the deceit or self-delusion had been mutual, and any wounds easily salved. But he knew, instinctively, that he could not lie to her. Quite simply, it was not what she wanted. But he took his time, and they were close to the tree-lined bank of the Tavigiano before he finally responded.
‘The honest answer, Magdalena, would be nothing. I’m a penniless bastard with nothing more than a marine lieutenant’s pay. My prospects are dismal. And tomorrow, or the day after, I could be put aboard a ship bound for India, the West Indies or the frozen North.’
‘I have little actual experience of this. But is it not usual for a prospective lover to talk of the future, to paint dreams?’
‘Let me be your lover and you can have all the dreams you want.’
‘But that is all they will be.’
He stopped and so did she. ‘Yes.’
She set off again. They were in the trees now, getting further and further away from the camp, and the fires that lit it.
‘In Corsica, they stone women who are unfaithful to their husbands.’
‘You are a widow.’
‘It still applies. I am supposed to don black and mourn till I die.’
‘You’re not that type.’
‘I may have to be. Luciano’s family will never consent to my marrying into another clan, and I will never accept one of his cousins as a husband. On the other hand, my brothers will kill anyone, including a foreigner, who even looks at me outside wedlock.’
‘Then you are in for an unhappy life.’
‘How often, Markham, will I get the chance to have a little joy with someone, when it can do me no harm?’
‘Which is why you asked your uncle what he regretted.’
He pushed her against a tree, but it required no strength, and as he leant against her Magdalena’s hand went inside his short coat, pulling at the shirt so she could get to his skin.
What followed was brutish, noisy and short, and very beautiful for all that.
Markham had gone to bed happy, and woke even more so. Whatever the reasons that persuaded Paoli to make for Cardo, the result would be the same. And with two full days to spare, and a Royal Navy sloop waiting to make the short journey up the coast, he could be sure that the old general would be on hand when Nelson came ashore. Wetting his ringer, he felt the wind, but then dismissed that as no problem. Cardo was close enough for the Navy to row them to a point on the nearby shore.
It soon occurred to him that he and Magdalena had not been the only couple to take advantage of the opportunities presented by a night in the open. Judging by the number of nudges and winks, plus the sudden silences when he approached, the Corsican notion of inviolable chastity was a bit threadbare. Breakfast, when the two groups came together to eat, was, for the first time, full of laughter and shared jokes. Not that they could talk much, but sign language sufficed to produce the kind of endless giggling that hinted at shared intimacy.
‘See if you can get this lot into some form of order, Sergeant.’
‘Sir,’ Rannoch responded, with a grin. The Highlander’s own eyes were bleary, though whether that was from overnight excursions, or futile attempts to put a stop to them, wasn’t clear. ‘We are like the moorland stags at a certain time of year, are we not?’
Markham didn�
��t really want to reply to that, considering what he and Magdalena had done was very close to rutting. He hoped that was a secret, though the way Bellamy had looked at him at first light left the notion open to doubt. And he was still on edge since, satisfying as it had been, it served to whet rather than satiate his appetite. And here they were within a few hours of the port of Aleria. Once they were inside that town all the passion which had surfaced last night would have to be suppressed, and when Paoli took ship for Cardo or San Fiorenzo, Markham would go with him.
The camp was struck before the sun tipped the horizon and they were on their way, along a wide track that ran alongside the river. Here on the flat coastal plain this was no torrent, rather a meandering watercourse, without either drama or much in the way of scenery, if you excluded the numerous clumps of trees. After two hours, with the sun still low, the first buildings came into view, a cluster consisting of a dilapidated barn next to a farmhouse. This induced mixed emotions. Most longed for rest, the lucky ones from the previous night instead ached for a bit more time.
‘Cavalry!’ said Rannoch, pointing a few degrees off north, to the opposite bank of the Tavigiano.
‘I thought you said this was a secret, General?’ asked Markham. ‘How many people did you tell?’
‘None,’ Paoli replied. ‘I told you that I hinted I was on my way to Ajaccio.’
‘That’s on the south-west coast.’ That produced an arched and disdainful eyebrow at the superfluous comment. ‘And we left heading east.’
Paoli smiled, though the situation that confronted them hardly warranted it. ‘I am held to be a devious old fox, prone to subterfuge. Obviously, Lieutenant, that is not as true as I supposed.’
Either someone had read Paoli’s hand, or this was just bad luck. He couldn’t avoid his fame, and nor could he help it if there was a French cavalry patrol close enough to pick up rumours of his passing. He could see them himself now, riding hard, sending up a great trail of dust to their rear.
It was as if they’d ordered up special low-morning sun to light their breastplates, and knowing it was coming had applied enough polish to blind anyone looking in their direction. A line of heavy horse some forty in number, within half an hour they’d forded the river and were lined up across the road back to Corte. Arranged in close order, they were patently ready for action, and just waiting for the small force before them, who’d gained as much distance as they could, to attempt to run.
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