by Tracy Grant
Luis drew back, confusion on his face. He had probably never in his life been out of these hills. He raised his hand and his two companions and the boy joined him. Luis seemed to gain confidence from their presence. As well he might. The fifth member of his group, the huge man, was inches from Adam's back. Even in the cold night air Adam could smell his sweat.
"He says he carries a message," Luis said, his voice filled with contempt. "Search him."
No one moved.
"Fools. Search him, I say. You, Pedro." He cuffed one of his companions, a lean, sharp-featured man, causing him to stumble against Adam. Pedro righted himself and flung open Adam's coat. He was clumsy but thorough and Adam offered no resistance. "Here," Pedro said, turning back to Luis and offering the two pieces of paper which were all he was able to find.
Luis looked at him in disgust. "No money?"
Pedro shook his head. "No money. No weapons."
Adam never went armed. They had one knife between them and Hawkins carried it. For safety he carried their money as well, but Luis was not to know that.
Luis bent his head over the papers, frowning heavily. He opened one of them, a large, much-creased sheet of heavy paper covered with a network of spidery lines. His face lightened. "Ah, a map." He held it up to the others. "A map." They nodded, but their eyes showed incomprehension.
Adam held out a hand and pointed to a small circle. "Palencia," he said. It was the name of the nearest town. The others nodded vigorously. He pointed again. "Freneda." This time the nods were less certain. Freneda was nearly a hundred miles away, but they seemed to have no sense of the distance.
Luis folded the map with care and put it in his pocket, then opened the other paper, a smaller sheet covered with a few lines in a bold hand. Adam knew it at once. It was the letter from Lescaut which had saved him once and could now mean his death. Luis angled it to catch the light of the moon, peered at it closely, coughed, then turned it around and peered at it again. He could not read. None of them could.
"A message," Luis said heavily.
"A message," Adam agreed.
"It does not look like English."
"You don't read English, my friend."
"I have seen writing," Luis persisted with a doggedness that surprised Adam. "I have seen French writing, too. They make marks so." He made a quick gesture indicating an accent mark. "I think maybe you tell me lies. I think maybe you are French." He looked around at the others and laughed. They laughed dutifully in return. They did not share Luis's pleasure and were clearly anxious to be done with the strangers and away from this place.
Luis turned back to Adam and pointed a finger at his chest. "So I tell you, stranger, I think you must come with us and speak to my friends. We will take also your horses and your mule, and we will take your saddles, wherever you have hidden them, and we will take as well your provisions. You will show us where they are."
"Luis!" The boy's voice was raised in alarm. He pointed into the darkness where Hawkins should have stood. Adam did not need to look. He saw it from the consternation on their faces. While they were searching him, while all their attention was on what Pedro had found in his coat, Hawkins had disappeared.
Luis was in a rage. "Imbeciles!" he shouted. "May the devil wither your manhood! May you die before your time! After him!"
Pedro laid a restraining hand on Luis's arm. "Three horses, Luis. There will be two of them waiting for us."
Luis spat, but a look of uncertainty crossed his face. "Very well," he said after a moment. "We take the animals and we take the Frenchman. Come." He untied the largest of the horses and threw himself up on his back. The horse shied at the unfamiliar weight. Luis wound his hands in the black mane and gave it a vicious yank. The horse reared, then calmed as Adam called his name. Baron had carried him over Portugal and Spain for the past four years and he would not have him mistreated. But there was little he could do to protect Baron now. Adam's large captor had produced a rope and tied his hands tightly behind him and was even now prodding his back with the knife.
They moved off, the boy leading the mule, Pedro and his companion guiding the other two horses. Then Luis on Baron, with Adam and his captor bringing up the rear. To Adam's dismay they took the direction leading past the cave. Dear God, let Hawkins have had the sense to lock the door.
The stars were fading and it was growing light. They were nearly at the cave when Baron whinnied again and the other horses grew restless. Perhaps some human scent that humans could not smell. Move on, Adam prayed. But instead Luis called a halt. There was another smell, the faint scent of charred wood, and it was enough to tell Luis that this was where his prisoner had camped.
Luis jumped down from Adam's horse and ran to the door. It was locked, but he put his face close to the keyhole and drew a deep breath. "There's been a fire." He turned to Adam and his face split in a huge grin. "Miguel," he called to Adam's captor.
Miguel pushed Adam in front of him. When they reached the door, he knelt and attacked the lock with his knife. Not as gentle as Hawkins, but as effective. The primitive lock gave way and he pulled the door open.
The dawning light spilled into the dark of the cave, revealing the remains of the fire and the huddled figure sitting beside it. Her eyes moved slowly from Miguel to Luis. "A woman," Luis breathed.
It was a moment when Adam could have run, but he could not leave Caroline to face them. He moved toward the doorway. "The third horse, Luis. She brings you no harm."
Luis stayed Miguel, who would have entered the cave and dragged Caroline out, and turned to Adam, a question in his eyes. "She is English," Adam said. "She has been in Acquera, in the hills above Burgos. Her husband was an English soldier and she buried him there. She is daughter to General Hill, Lord Wellington's favorite commander, and I am taking her to him in Freneda."
Luis believed none of it. "With a French message?"
"With a French document, as you were clever enough to see."
The compliment nearly won Luis over. Then his truculence returned. "Woman, come here."
Caroline moved toward the light of the doorway. She looked briefly at Adam, then stood calmly before Luis. "What do you want of me?"
"You speak Spanish," he said. "English people know noting of our tongue. The French do. They are stupid, but in this they are clever. Perhaps you are the Frenchman's whore."
"I am no man's whore," Caroline said with a flash of anger, "and I travel to Freneda. What are you doing with our horses?"
Luis laughed, showing large white teeth in his swarthy face. "Pedro, Carlos," he called. "We have found the saddles. Take them out. Take everything out." The two men hurried toward him, but paused as they reached the cave mouth. "Fools," said Luis. "Can you not see? The third man is only a woman. The second has turned tail and run away."
Pedro and Carlos hesitated, then moved toward the cave, sidling round Caroline who stood in the cave's door. Pedro, with newly made courage, took her roughly by the arm and thrust her aside.
"Mama!" Emily's voice split the air and the men stopped, transfixed by the unexpected sound. Emily hurtled from the shadows at the back of the cave and threw her arms around her mother.
Luis stared at the child in sudden bewilderment. He pointed to Adam. "Is she his?"
Caroline stooped and lifted Emily into her arms. Her chin went up and her voice dripped with the contempt an Englishwoman might show to her inferiors. "Does she look like his child? She is the daughter of Lieutenant Rawley, an English officer who died fighting for your benighted country. Her grandfather is General Hill who expects to see his daughter and grandchild returned safely into his care."
Brava, Caroline, Adam said silently, though her words brought a stab of the pain he had felt the night before when he had asked her about Emily. They had some effect on Luis, who took refuge from his uncertainty in bluster. "Enough! It's time we were on our way. Saddle the horses and the mule. The woman and child come with us till I decide what to do with them."
It was cl
ear the decision would not be in Luis's hands. He had some ability to rally the others, but his mind would not allow for complexity. English officers, a message for the English general, a wellborn woman and her child hiding in a wine cave, all these seemed to stretch the bounds of his credulity. Very well. Let them think Adam a French spy and Caroline his whore. They had little choice but to go along and no hope of recovering their horses and provisions if they were left behind. Hawkins, Adam prayed, stay safe. But Hawkins, Adam guessed, was not far away and would follow them to their unknown destination.
A quarter of an hour later the mule was packed with their belongings and the horses saddled. The men had broached a barrel of wine, but Luis, to his credit, did not let them linger. Caroline kept her imperious mien and would not look at Adam, making it clear that he was merely an escort and of little account. Her manner puzzled Luis, but he allowed her to mount her own horse and take Emily before her. Emily was wide-eyed but said nothing. Apparently she had learned much in her months in Spain, including the virtue of silence. Adam caught her eye, winked, and was a rewarded by a small smile.
Adam did not know how long they walked. More than an hour, perhaps two. Their pace was slow because of the mule who did not respond well to the boy's ministrations, and because Pedro and Carlos must lead the other horse, neither seeming comfortable in the saddle. The day had broken, a gray morning with a sharp wind that increased as they climbed farther into the hills, then softened as they descended into a narrow valley transected by a small stream. The guerrilleros, as Adam assumed them to be, must have their camp here. He saw the smoke of a fire and the sudden eagerness of the men. Then he caught the smell of animal dung and in a moment two tethered burros came in sight.
"Hola!" Luis called. He spurred on Baron and was met by a half-dozen men who emerged from a stand of trees. Their eyes widened at the sight of the horses and the laden mule who bore the extra burden of a wine barrel strapped to the flat saddle on its back. Luis scanned the faces before him. "Where is Joaquin?"
A heavyset man, older than the rest, pushed his way through the others. "So, Luis. You are late."
Luis's mouth broke into a broad smile. "Agreed. I am late, but I bring horses and a fine mule and wine to warm us."
Joaquin's eyes narrowed. "And prisoners?" He had caught sight of the woman on the small horse and the man with his hands tied behind his back who was being pushed forward unceremoniously by Miguel. "You're a thick-witted fool. What use have we for prisoners?"
Luis dismounted and signaled the boy to come and hold Baron's bridle. He walked toward Joaquin with a sure-footed swagger and led him to the bank of the stream where they engaged in a low-voiced colloquy. Adam kept his eyes on Joaquin. Joaquin must be the leader of the group, and with luck he would prove more intelligent than Luis.
On the other hand, perhaps he could read, and in this case the letter from Lescaut would be damning. Joaquin made gestures of protest, then turned narrowed eyes on Adam and shook his head. Luis pressed the papers into his hands and Joaquin perused them thoughtfully. Then with sudden decision he turned and strode toward Adam who waited quietly, Miguel's knife at his back.
"What do you call yourself, Señor?"
"Forgive me, Señor, but in these times a name can be a dangerous thing."
Joaquin regarded him with shrewd eyes. "In these parts a name is dangerous if it is French. Are you a Frenchman, Señor?"
"I am English."
"So you claimed. An Englishman traveling to Freneda with a message for the great Wellington."
"I travel to Freneda, but the rest is a lie." Joaquin raised his brows. "I wished to protect the lady," Adam continued. "Luis did not then know of her presence."
"And your business in our country?"
"To find Señora Rawley who had gone to Acquera in the hills above Burgos to seek her wounded husband who was too ill to travel and who was left behind during the English retreat. And to bring the Señora and her child to the safety of the English Headquarters. That is my sole business, Señor. I go unarmed."
The web of lines around Joaquin's eyes deepened. He looked at Caroline, sitting erect on her horse, no trace of fear on her face. "You tell me the woman traveled to the hills of Burgos in the winter? Traveled with the child?"
Adam shrugged. "Who knows what passions drive a woman?"
A faint smile crossed Joaquin's face, but it was quickly erased. "I have seen Englishwomen follow their men when the army is on the march. But this woman you claim traveled alone, till you took her out of Acquera, leaving her husband—"
"Dead."
"Convenient. You tell a wondrous story, stranger. You speak like one of us. You say you are English, but your face betrays you. And you carry"—Joaquin selected one of the papers in his hand and waved it before Adam's face—“you carry a letter bearing the signature of Colonel Lescaut. Lescaut who is now in Salamanca with General Villatte. What am I to think? Do I believe you? Or do I believe this?" He tightened his grip on the paper. His eyes, black and piercing, stared into Adam's as though he would wrench the truth from his very soul.
Adam knew then he had lost. Perhaps he could make some bargain, trade his person for Caroline's freedom, and pray that Hawkins would somehow appear and lead her to safety. He was about to speak when there was a cry from Emily. He turned and saw her wriggle free of her mother's arms and drop to the ground. Then she scrambled to her feet and ran to the group of men standing near the trees. Her target was a slender man of medium height who stood a little apart from the others. He must have just appeared, for he had not been among the group that came to witness their arrival.
The man stooped and lifted Emily in his arms. Caroline slipped from her mount and ran to join them. They were too far away for Adam to hear their words, but Caroline was speaking rapidly, pointing to the horses and then to Luis and to Adam. The man listened quietly, then nodded with decision. He took her arm and led her to Joaquin.
As they approached, Adam saw that Caroline's face was radiant with joy and relief. She called out, "It's Victor!"
Chapter Six
"Victor Soro," Caroline said as she reached Adam. "Adela's husband." She looked at the small dark man beside her as though she had produced a miracle. As indeed she had. "Victor," she went on, ignoring Joaquin who was standing beside Adam, "this is my friend from England, Adam Durward. He came to find us in Acquera, and he saved us from the French soldiers."
Victor held out a hand, then dropped it as he realized Adam's hands were bound. "You are welcome, Señor. Mrs. Rawley has been a good friend to my family."
Emily's arms were firmly clasped around Victor's neck. The friendship seemed to go both ways. "Your family has been good to her," Adam said.
Joaquin followed this exchange with watchful eyes. "You know this woman?" he said to Victor. "You vouch for her?"
"With my life."
"And the man? The Frenchman?"
"Mrs. Rawley says he is English." Victor's eyes met Joaquin's and did not waver.
There was a brief, silent struggle and at its end Joaquin shrugged and looked away. "You, Miguel!" he said with sudden decision. "Free his hands. And bring him his boots."
Miguel seemed stunned by this reversal. Then, at an angry gesture from Joaquin, he hastened to follow his orders. Joaquin turned to Adam. "So, the name you would not give me is Durward. You see, I trust my friend, Victor Soro. I offer you our apologies, Señor Durward, but you understand in these days, in this place, we must be careful."
Adam, occupied with his boots, nodded in understanding.
Joaquin returned the map and letter to Adam. "This letter, it still bothers me, Señor."
Adam stowed the papers carefully inside his coat. "This letter has served me as a kind of passport. But do not believe everything you see."
Joaquin stared at him a moment, then his face broke into a grin. "I see. A forgery. Yes, you are a clever man. Come, follow me, you must all be hungry, and the little one most of all."
They were soon sitting a
mong the trees, sharing breakfast with their former captors. As Adam had suspected, the men were guerrilleros, a small band operating in the hills above Palencia. Luis and Miguel had been sent out the previous day on a recruiting expedition—Carlos, Pedro, and Jaime had been won to their cause—and were returning to the camp when they spied the horses. Luis had improvised and caught horses and a mule, as well as a French spy. Now Joaquin decreed that the spoils be returned. Luis was angry, then petulant, then philosophical. Victor had spoken, and Victor, it seemed, was held in high regard. He had arrived last night from a guerrillero encampment in the north and his presence had fired the group with a thirst for action.
Caroline told them the story of her journey from Lisbon, her two-month stay in Acquera, her husband's death, the French raid and Adam's cleverness in outwitting the French, the wound he had got in defending her virtue. The men followed the story closely and punctuated it with words of approbation and bursts of laughter when Caroline described how Adam had persuaded the French to return some of the food and wine they had taken from the villagers.
Embarrassed by her exaggerated praise, Adam excused himself and walked back to the clearing. He scanned the surrounding hills, then climbed a short distance up the path by which they had come and uttered a piercing two-note whistle. It died away into the cold morning air and he listened to the silence that followed. Then there was an echo, faint but unmistakable, and Adam's face broke into a grin. "Hawkins!" he shouted. "It's safe!"
Joaquin was disconcerted by Hawkins's arrival. No man, he said, should have come upon them unawares. Had the devil addled the brains of his sentinels? He stalked off, but his censure was quickly forgot in the wake of Emily's joy in being reunited with her friend. Emily was already a favorite with the company and they could not do too much to please her.
Adam was standing a little apart, watching them, when Victor appeared at his side. With one accord the two men moved toward the bank of the stream, the voices of the others fading behind them. "I've heard of you, Señor Durward," Victor said. "I do not tell the others because it is best they do not know too much about you. But I know you travel often behind the enemy lines."