‘You should. He’s dead.’
‘You callous bastard. By your hand.’
‘The lad got in my way. It was war.’
‘It was murder. When I let you live you were taken prisoner by English forces and granted parole. On your honour you undertook not to escape from captivity without permission. Negotiations were underway for an exchange, but you ran. Honour was trampled when you broke your parole and murdered Harry Connors who was guarding you.’ Nathan thought of the pleasure it would give him to kill this man. The rage he felt at this moment was impotent. Ever since Harry’s death his head had been busy with the need to avenge his death, but now was not the time. ‘I asked you a question, Gameau.’
Claude Gameau thought for a moment then he scowled. ‘The woman is not well—she is sickly. She is worth nothing to me if she’s dead.’
Nathan looked at him, but his face was a mask showing no reaction to the distress he knew Katherine would be suffering. ‘And the child?’
‘He is taken care of. You have the money?’
Nathan nodded. ‘Where are they?’
‘In the mountains. Follow me.’
When they were mounted Nathan looked at Lucy. ‘Follow me close. Ride steady. Watch your footing and for God’s sake don’t slip.’
She was pale as a sheet, but she nodded and didn’t ask questions.
* * *
The mountains were ragged crests of moving shadows, sharp edged against the northern sky. They climbed ever upwards, amongst rushing streams and rock cliffs. Then the forest with the thick foliage of the trees almost shut out the day. They continued to ascend and after some difficulty scaled the top, which was very rugged. Here the air was sharp and the wind blew colder. Gameau showed no sign of halting and pressed on swiftly, leading them forwards and upwards and across long slopes of scree where they had to dismount and lead the horses, whose hooves slipped and slithered among the loose stone.
After what seemed to be an eternity, they came to a turning in the rocks where a view opened, transcendently beautiful. A large promontory was strewn with what had once been a large castle, built on and into the sheer side of the mountain. It was crumbling and dilapidated, but still formidable, with rusty chains hanging from the walls which had once housed the portcullis. It extended over a large space and some of the walls were still standing. Several towers remained, offering some defence. As far as Claude Gameau was concerned, that was the essential thing.
Riding into a rubble-strewn courtyard, Nathan halted and looked about him, careful to keep Lucy close by him while he took in the layout, memorising what he saw and storing it in his mind for further use. Men loitered about, their expressions insolent and mocking, their eyes suspicious as they watched the newcomers intently. Like their escorts, they wore uniforms mainly of France, but there were a few Portuguese, Spanish and British, their muskets tipped with bayonets.
There were about a hundred all told, but Nathan had the sense of having eyes on him he could not see. Armed, lounging sentinels stood high amongst the ruins. He kept his expression neutral, for he was very aware of the attention focused on them. He knew all the weeks of planning would come to nothing if he gave any hint of what was afoot.
The rebels watched the man and woman follow Gameau into the centre of the courtyard, beginning to close in on them with wild excitement, which was suddenly snuffed out when Gameau barked an order for them to stand back. They stared at him like dogs in the presence of the pack leader.
‘Welcome to my hideout,’ Gameau said to Nathan. ‘The castle is centuries old. It stood against the Moors from Africa and legend says many of them died in the dungeons beneath for refusing to profess Christianity. As you see, my men are waiting to greet you. They are a disorderly lot. They like to live rough. We are a mixed bunch. There is a man from every regiment fighting in the war, from men of rank to the common soldier. But here there is no rank—no airs and graces. We are all as one.’
‘Enough,’ Nathan uttered sharply, dismounting. ‘Where is she, Gameau? Where is Lady Newbold? I insist on seeing her at once.’
‘Of course you do,’ Gameau said, heaving himself from the saddle. Sauntering over to Nathan’s horses, he pointed at the saddlebags. ‘First you will give me the gold, Rochefort. Show me.’
‘No, Gameau. First you will show me the lady. Where is she?’
Lucy shuddered, watching as Gameau’s eyes narrowed on Nathan. This place struck terror into her heart. Her hands gripped the reins as she tried not to show her fear. She knew she was in the presence of traitors and scoundrels, who preferred a life of thieving and murder to more honest work. Where was Katherine? What had they done with her and the child? Her heart wrung with pity. She scrambled off her horse and waited beside him, waited for Gameau to speak.
Without taking his eyes off Nathan, he beckoned to one of his men. ‘Take them to the woman.’
Leading their horses, Nathan and Lucy followed the man across the courtyard. Undeceived by Lucy’s male garb, a group of men in the red coats of English soldiers leered and let forth a string of crude remarks, their manner becoming predatory. She could feel their eyes wandering over her like spiders on her skin and she shuddered. When one of them, stepping in front of her, made an obscene gesture with his finger, the sword came from Nathan’s scabbard so fast that even Gameau, standing close, could not have stopped the movement.
It had been a long time since Nathan had last killed in anger, but the burn was still there to be called upon. He drew his sword in a heartbeat, implacable and without mercy. The steel glittered in the sunlight, swooped forwards, and the tip stopped an inch from the bridge of the man’s nose.
‘Would you care to repeat that?’
The courtyard was utterly still. The man did not move. A pulse throbbed beneath his cheek.
‘I asked you a question. Would you care to repeat that?’
The man swallowed nervously, his eyes never leaving those ice-cold orbs fixed on his. ‘I will not fight you.’
‘Then do not provoke one. Apologise to my companion for the insult.’
The man gaped and looked defenceless without a weapon. ‘I—I do,’ the man hissed.
‘You do what?’ Nathan persisted, his voice sounding as lethal as his sword looked.
The man kept his eyes fixed on him. ‘Apologise.’
The apology had been graceless and Nathan moved the heavy blade closer to the man’s nose. ‘You offended the lady. Make the apology to her.’ His countenance darkened with an unspoken threat all too clearly read.
Licking his lips nervously, the man shifted his gaze to Lucy. ‘I apologise.’
Nathan kept the sword pressed against the man’s nose a few seconds longer before leaning back, reversing the sword and thrusting it home. There was a shuffling of feet as the men drew back, muttering curses. Nathan looked at the man waiting to take them to Katherine. ‘Lead on.’
Nathan and Lucy followed him towards a heavy door, ornate with decoration. Securing the horses to a post, he turned and gave Gameau a pointed warning before turning to the door. It creaked open and they went inside. They could see little at first, and as their eyes became accustomed to the gloom, on seeing a stoup that had once held holy water and tiles on the floor, they realised they were in what had once been a chapel. The room was empty. Crossing the room, they went down four steps and into another room. Lucy shivered. It was cold and dank and dimly lit with light filtering through a slit high in the wall.
At first Lucy thought the room was empty, but then she heard a murmur of low voices from somewhere just ahead of her. She took a few steps forwards and stopped. To her horror, she saw a handful of women moving about in the shadows. They wore cloaks or shawls to guard against the cold of the room. The man who had led them inside pointed towards a low bed, on which a woman lay beneath a grimy blanket.
Lucy hurried
to the bed and stared down at the woman she knew as Katherine Tindall, a woman who bore little resemblance to the vibrant, beautiful fair-haired woman she had been. In her place was a stranger, a thin haggard woman with great haunted eyes, who looked as though she had endured torture and famine and suffered a long-term imprisonment, shut away from the sunlight and fresh air. There was something else, too—something less definable. A dreadful sense of loss. A deadness, brought about, Lucy thought, by the death of her husband.
‘Katherine,’ she murmured.
Katherine’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment she stared up at the face hovering over her, unable to believe her eyes, then a smile broke out on her lips. Her face was marked by tiredness and the strain of captivity had deepened the lines either side of her mouth.
‘Lucy? Lucy... It can’t be!’ Her eyes drifted up to the man behind her. ‘And Nathan. Oh—thank God.’
Tears blurred Lucy’s eyes. Dropping to her knees beside the bed, she took Katherine’s hand and placed it against her cheek. ‘I’m here, Katherine—with Nathan. We’ve come to take you home—you and your son. Where is he?’
‘With one of the women. They help me to look after him. It’s so difficult, you see—never enough to eat...’
Lucy stroked her friend’s hair. ‘Everything is going to be different now, Katherine, but we must get you out of here.’
Nathan placed a hand firmly on Lucy’s shoulder. ‘We have to leave.’ He glanced around the squalid room. ‘How many hostages are there, Katherine?’
‘Twelve—excluding me and Charles.’
‘Children?’
‘No. Only Charles.’
He nodded, grim-faced, wishing he didn’t have to leave one hostage behind in this accursed place. But he had no choice. ‘Prepare Katherine to leave, Lucy. We can’t delay any longer. The sooner we are gone from this place the better.’
Lucy got to her feet. ‘Are you able to ride, Katherine? Nathan said you were wounded when you were taken captive.’
‘I was shot in the shoulder, but it is healed now. I am still weak, but I will withstand the ride if it means getting out of here. But what about the others? I am not the only hostage. I hate to leave them.’
‘I cannot take anyone else, Katherine,’ Nathan said. ‘I am here to pay your ransom. We can only hope your fellow hostages will be freed very soon.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Katherine said softly, hurriedly. ‘We must get away from here. Quickly. It’s a bad place.’
‘Where is your son, Katherine?’ Lucy asked, looking around for the child.
‘Charles—his name is Charles.’ Katherine struggled to sit up and called to someone called Kate.
A woman broke away from the others, carrying an infant in her arms. ‘Here he is.’ She handed him to Katherine.
‘Give him to me.’ Lucy took him gently from his mother’s unresisting arms, kissing his brown curls, before wrapping a blanket around him.
Nathan was impatient to be away from the castle. His task was to secure Katherine and her child’s freedom, to protect them and Lucy, to get them as far away from Gameau before the partisans arrived. He hoped Gameau had too few men to hold them off.
Everything happened quickly. With Lucy’s help Katherine collected her few belongings and, after saying a tearful farewell to those who must remain captives of Claude Gameau and his ruthless band of deserters, went outside. Gameau was waiting by the horses.
‘You have the woman, now you will give me the money, Rochefort.’
Nathan heaved the heavy saddlebag off the third horse and dropped it on the ground. The coins clinked dully inside the leather. ‘There’s your gold, Gameau. It’s all there.’
Gameau opened the saddlebag and ran his fingers through the coins and looked up at Nathan, his eyes alive with satisfaction.
Without Nathan’s assistance Katherine could never have managed to climb on to her mount. Her legs buckled and refused to obey her. Nathan swung her up in his arms and bodily placed her in the saddle on the spare horse. She sat astride, clinging to the reins as if her life depended on it. Lucy climbed into the saddle and took the infant in her arms, balancing him in front of her.
Katherine glanced around, fearful for her son. ‘Charles...’
Lucy was quick to reassure her. ‘I have him with me, Katherine. Don’t worry. He’s safe.’
They waited until Gameau was satisfied the ransom money was what he’d demanded before facing Nathan. ‘I have counted the money. You can go.’
Nathan’s eyes did a quick sweep of the men standing around. ‘You have many men, Gameau. How many?’
Gameau held up a hand to stay any more questions, his eyes narrowed. ‘You cannot expect me to tell you that. I will just say that there are enough for us to succeed should an army launch an attack.’
Nathan didn’t reply immediately. It had been worth a try. ‘You have other hostages—all women, I see.’
Gameau shrugged. ‘Negotiations are going on for their freedom. They will stay alive as long as your soldiers stay away from here. You understand what I am saying, Rochefort?’
Grim-faced, Nathan nodded. ‘You will be caught, Gameau. Our paths will cross again. Be assured of that. I will not show mercy a second time. You are a convicted traitor. You should not be allowed to walk free.’
‘But I do, and will continue to do so for a long time yet. Now go, Rochefort, while you can,’ he said in the acid tones of an enemy. ‘The debt is paid. Whatever happens beyond this point, look to your life.’
The look Nathan gave Gameau before he turned away was a silent promise of future retribution. Deep inside him it galled him to ride away from the deserter. It was like leaving a task half-done. But he was not willing to chance the lives of his charges on wreaking his own vengeance on Gameau.
Chapter Eight
Lucy rode beside Katherine. From time to time she glanced at her, fearing she would fall out of the saddle. But somewhere deep inside her Katherine had found a reserve of strength and she managed to cling to her horse. It wouldn’t be nightfall for several hours and Nathan wanted to put as much distance between them and Claude Gameau as possible. They took a different route from the one that had brought them to the castle.
‘I don’t think Gameau will have a change of heart and come after us, but I can’t be certain. It is possible that he and his men will stay where they are, but it would be foolish to tempt fate. Do you see the forest down there? That is the route we will take. As we drop down into the valleys there are villages where we will find shelter for the night.’
Taking Katherine’s horse by the bridle, he led it towards the trail which ran deep into the forest. The path wound between thick banks of firs which rose up like walls on either side. The deeper into the forest they went, the narrower the trail became. The trees and chequered shadows closed behind them. They listened to the sound of movement fade and die, and all at once the forest was intolerably quiet. They plodded onwards. A thick layer of fallen needles carpeted the ground, so the shoes of their horses made only the faintest sound. Nothing seemed to stir in that breathless stillness. There seemed to be nothing alive in it but themselves. Lucy knew these woods abounded with wolves, but she tried not to think about that as she held the child close.
As they urged on the flagging horses, Katherine’s head fell forwards on to her chest and Lucy knew she wouldn’t be able to ride much longer. Through the tops of the trees she could see the sun was going down. They had to find a place to rest soon.
She looked at Nathan, slightly ahead. ‘Katherine is exhausted and the child will have to be fed soon. How much longer before we are out of the forest?’
Nathan turned his head and looked at the sleeping child nestled in front of Lucy, then he looked at Katherine. It was clear from the way she slumped in the saddle that she was exhausted, but her eyes were calm and they l
ooked back at him steadily.
‘If we can reach one of the villages, we will get some milk.’
‘He is nine months old, Nathan. I have no experience of raising babies, but Charles seems to be very small for his age. Milk alone will not suffice. He must have proper food.’
‘And I shall see that he gets some. Not long now and we’ll be out of the forest.’
* * *
After another hour’s riding, Lucy breathed a sigh of relief when they emerged into the open. The stars were coming out and Katherine had fallen asleep in the saddle. They headed for a village lying amongst enormous rocks. It was a tolerably good one, with some of the houses built of mud. When Nathan enquired of some locals in Portuguese if there was somewhere they could stay the night, the people were civil and pointed them to what might pass as a hostelry.
They quickened their horses’ steps and dismounted outside the low building. Katherine woke when Nathan lifted her from the saddle. He pushed open the door of solid, rough-hewn planks. A young woman who was standing over a cooking pot on the hearth straightened up in surprise at the sight of the travellers. The strange, almost unreal picture they presented was one which would remain for a long time in Lucy’s mind.
Without a word the woman beckoned them inside. Nathan spoke quietly to her. She pointed upwards, indicating there were beds, and then at the pot of stew bubbling away. Katherine shook her head and said she wasn’t hungry. She was very quiet and seemed to be bewildered by everything that was happening, along with Lucy’s presence with Nathan. But she was bone-weary and too exhausted by mental and physical stress to ask questions, nor did she have any desire for food. Lucy urged her to eat, saying that she would need all her strength if they hoped to make good progress the next day.
‘You will also sleep all the better for a little food and awake refreshed.’
So they ate what they could, and afterwards Katherine curled up on the bed the young woman had prepared for her and fell asleep almost immediately, her arm wrapped protectively around her sleeping son. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing even, his stomach full of warm goat’s milk, which he had swallowed with relish, before being overcome with sleep.
Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant Page 16