“Best robe up, now Sir.”
Albright nodded. The reason was obvious, because to appear as a Priest of any kind would guarantee entrance, at least. It took half an hour to don and arrange all the vestments, but eventually it was done and Albright decided to walk the short way as would Sedgwicke, leading the mules. They approached and Albright knocked on the small window set in the door at head height. It opened immediately and Albright spoke.
“Can we speak to your Mother Superior?”
A disembodied voice came back, in a tone that conveyed ill temper.
“¿Qué?”
Sedgwicke stepped forward, alongside the confused Albright.
¿Hablas inglés?
A reply came back.
“Espere un momento.”
Nothing more, but at least the ‘speaking window’ remained open. After some minutes, conversation was resumed, and this time constructively.
“I speak English. What is it that you want?”
Albright stepped forward, now realising that some persuasion was required.
“I am a Vicar of the Anglican Church serving with the British Army. May I speak to your Mother Superior, please, on an important matter?”
The ‘speaking window’ closed, but the door soon opened, swinging easily back on colossal, yet noiseless, hinges. This revealed a deep arch, at the end of which was a sizeable courtyard, but stood immediately before them was a single Nun, wearing a pure white cloak over the black habit that extended over her head. She stood motionless, her hands buried within her clothing.
“My name is Sister Consuela. I am English. I joined the Carmelite Order long ago. You can make your request to me.”
Albright advanced two paces forward, but something made him stop. Sister Consuela remained still as a statue.
“I do feel that this may be a matter best decided upon by your Mother Superior.”
She remained unmoved.
“You may ask of me.”
Albright advanced merely two more paces.
“We have a woman now with child, some way advanced, whom we feel will be in need of care during her confinement and whilst the child is small. Our understanding is that, for a contribution to your necessary expenses, you may take in such a woman and provide that form of care within the walls of your most devout institution.”
The reply was instant.
“Is she married?”
Albright was stunned, both by the brevity and finality of the question, but Sedgwicke had very much anticipated this and was ready with an immediate answer.
“Yes! The girl is Irish Catholic, but the ceremony was not according to the Canons of your Catholic Church.”
Sedgwicke smiled.
“More an army ceremony, which happens quite often and commonly in the circumstances of army life.”
There was no reaction, at least none to the small humour, but the reply was equally brief and brooked no argument.
“If the girl is to be cared for within these walls, then the union from which this child has sprung must be blessed and sanctified by the Catholic Church. In a Catholic Church!”
Albright remained wholly nonplussed by the requirement and its implications, but Sedgwicke pressed on.
“This can be done. The husband and wife can appear, as you desire, and what you require will take place to your satisfaction, I am sure.”
Such unequivocal answers to equally explicit requirements seemed to satisfy the Sister.
“Very well. And you say that you can make a financial offering to us to help with their provision?”
Albright had by now recovered. He was not now required to speak any untruth or even half-truth.
“Yes, Fifteen English pounds.”
There came a curt nod of her head.
“Then let it be so.”
Albright continued, now much recovered and buoyed up by her agreement.
“Is there somewhere that we can say a prayer together to thank our Dear Lord for leading you into such an act of charity?”
Her eyes warmed by the faintest amount.
“Yes, but I can allow you no further into our Convent. Please follow the wall around towards the town and you will find the entrance to the Chapel of Our Lady, which is available for the people of the town. I will meet you there.”
There was no further movement from her and neither Albright nor Sedgwicke could think of anything further, apart from Albright waving his hand to his right as he faced her.
“That way?”
“Yes.”
Both bowed awkwardly, then turned and left, for the full wooden door to be closed, with no other sound than the slight bump of the heavy wood closing together. Albright set off, with Sedgwicke quickly catching up, but the former was less than happy.
“That was an outright lie, Private, that you just spoke in there. She and the Father are not married. This you well know.”
Sedgwicke was unrepentant. These were Catholics after all, always over fussy with everything that involved their inflexible Dogma.
“Well Sir, going by my experience in the Army, the word ‘marriage’ is as broad you want it to be. A man and a woman can stand together and each hold the end of a piece of rope for them to be ‘married’ in the eyes of their comrades and they are treated as so. And they act as so! It may not be a Church wedding, but it holds together as a union that I cannot see our Dear Saviour looking too unfavourably upon.”
Albright turned to Sedgwicke, now somewhat incensed.
“But there is no husband! Is there?”
“No Sir. And for that I shall do penance. However, it is clear that without the ceremony she would be denied entrance.”
Albright now raised his voice.
“And a husband!”
Sedgwicke was wholly dismissive.
“Oh I’m sure we can manage that, Sir. For such as Eirin Mulcahy.”
“Wholly irregular, Private. We have been deceitful.”
“Yes Sir, but me, not you. Be of clear conscience yourself.”
They came to the corner of the Convent and turned to see the overhanging porch of the Church door and the profile of the Crucifix above it. Once beneath both, a small individual door was open in the main double doors and in they went, Albright first. Sedgwicke took a deep breath and stepped inside, but the powerful smell of incense still assaulted his nostrils. However, the impact of this was as nothing compared to the sight of the Altar, at which Sister Consuela was kneeling. The whole was an ornate confection of gold and silver all before a backdrop of heavy pure white cloth. It was as though the designer had been given the whole cargo of a treasure ship from the Americas and been determined to use every item; any that were unused on the Altar had been added to the central statue of the Virgin Mary holding the Baby Jesus, both radiant in silver, gold leaf, gold accoutrements and diamonds. Sedgwicke could approach no further, but all that was required was for Albright to continue and kneel beside the praying figure of Sister Consuela. Sedgwicke felt himself superfluous as the two knelt together and so he took himself outside to suck in lungfuls of the clean air and gratefully speak his own simple prayers. Eventually, Albright came out, alone.
“I have arranged the date for the day after tomorrow. At 12 o’ clock. We must now return and see what can be arranged.”
The journey back was faster than that of coming out, but Albright still took the opportunity to indulge in one or two delicacies from the stalls that continued to line the road in each village. When they finally returned to the camp of the 105th, day had almost become full night. Once their cart and mules were safely separated, one from the other, Albright came to Sedgwicke.
“I want no further part of this. I have thanked our Good Lord for the charitable deed of the Nuns, but my role halts here. This smacks of pure expediency. Nothing to do with the love of two good people, each for the other, to be blessed within our Mother Church. This now lies with you!”
Sedgwicke saluted.
“Yes Sir. I’ll go now.”
&n
bsp; With that he turned and hurried to the camp of Deakin and Davey. When he arrived they had finished their evening meal and were sat talking or mending kit. However, with the arrival of Sedgwicke, everything stopped, but none asked the question. All awaited Sedgwicke’s pronouncement.
“The Convent will take her, but they have made conditions.”
No response, all remained silent to hear what came next and so he continued.
“She must be married, in their Church at 12 o’ clock, the day after tomorrow. That done to their satisfaction, they will take her in.”
Silence remained. Deakin looked at Davey, Bridie at Nellie, Eirin looked at everyone. Eventually it was Nellie who spoke.
“She needs a husband! Any man’ll do, long as he stands beside her and says the right words. What difference will it make, with her spending a year, nearly, there in that Convent? What happens after that, well, the Good Lord only knows.”
She was looking at her husband, Henry Nicholls, but he was as puzzled as anyone.
“Who’ve we got that’s single?”
He looked first at their two newcomers, Tucker and Solomon.
“You two married?”
Both nodded vigorously. He then looked a little nearer.
“Zeke? Tom?”
It was Saunders who answered.
“We’re both too old and he’s too ugly.”
Miles said nothing, plainly in agreement with at least one of the descriptions, but Saunders smiled gently at Eirin, now plainly fearful and worried.
“Why she’s still but a slip of a girl. Eighteen?”
Eirin nodded, but then Saunders looked at the one figure who, so far, had said nothing.
“Byford! How old are you?”
Byford took a deep breath and spoke very softly.
“Twenty-two.”
“Say again!”
This time louder.
“Twenty-two.”
“Perfect!”
A look of utter horror came across Byford’s face, this delivered in Saunders direction.
“I do think that we should ask Eirin about this.”
However, Nellie answered quickly.
“Sure now, what for? All she needs is a man, there at the Altar, ready to say the right stuff!”
Bridie was in tears and went over to put her arms around her eldest daughter, but now it was Deakin who spoke.
“You’re right, John, but will you do it?”
Byford took a deep breath.
“Yes, if it’ll keep her safe. We all remember what happened to Mary, begging your pardon, Joe.”
Joe Pike nodded acknowledgment as Byford turned to Eirin. He chose his words and phrased them together very carefully.
“Eirin. Would it be alright with you, if it is I who speaks the vows with you? In this Church.”
Eirin looked at him and saw nothing but sympathy, even in the poor light of the fire. She nodded.
“Yes.”
Deakin clapped his hands together and then rubbed his palms together.
“Right, that’s that. Tomorrow, you’re off to the Colonel. To get permission. First thing.”
First thing, even before breakfast, found Byford standing at the attention outside the tent of Colonel Lacey, with RSM Gibney beside him. Both stood waiting, Gibney looking down at Byford, him looking straight ahead.
“So, tha’ wants to marry Eirin Mulcahy?”
“Yes, Sergeant Major.”
“Ah’m hearin’ that she’s with child.”
“That’s correct Sergeant Major.”
“’Appens as tha’s the Father?”
“No, Sergeant Major.”
“But tha’ still wants this?”
“Yes Sergeant Major. It happens all the time, in a Regiment such as ours. As I’m sure you’re aware.”
“True! Raht, in tha’ goes.”
Gibney held open the tent flap and Byford marched forward. Within two minutes he was out and he nodded in Gibney’s direction as he walked away. Then Bert Bryce emerged.
“Sar’ Major. The Colonel would like a moment of your time.”
Gibney marched in and saluted.
“Sir.”
Lacey looked up.
“What’s all this about young Byford marrying Eirin Mulcahy? They’ve never been seen walking out together. Even!”
“No Sir, but she’s expectin’. Sir.”
“And Byford’s doing the decent thing, even though he tells me he’s not the Father. So, who is? Do we know? There’s been no violence upon her, has there?”
“No Sir. Ah’d’ve heard.”
“So who knows the full story? Colour Sergeant Deakin took on the family. Get him in here.”
Within minutes Deakin was saluting in front of his Colonel simultaneously with Gibney. Alongside Lacey was Major O’Hare who had meanwhile been summoned. Lacey sat forward, elbows on his desk, his chin in his hands.
“Now then, Colour Sergeant. We want to know the full story, as you see it. I’m sure we can help.”
Deakin took a deep breath and within five minutes all the details had been spoken, from when Eirin helped at the school in the time before Busaco, then on to why Byford had just asked permission to be married. Lacey sat back, saddened and looked at O’Hare.
“Get Maltby in here.”
He looked at the two Sergeants.
“Dismiss!”
They saluted, spun on their heels and left. Within minutes O’Hare had returned with Maltby. O’Hare resumed his seat, but Maltby was left standing. This time, Lacey leant back.
“Stuart. I’ve just had one of your Section, Private Byford, in here asking permission to marry Eirin Mulcahy so that a Convent will take her in and look after her for the birth of her child and the time after.”
He paused.
“But I’m hearing that you are the Father!”
Maltby shifted awkwardly.
“I could be, Sir.”
“Could be! And what do the men believe?”
“That I am, Sir.”
“And you made an agreement with Colour Sergeant Deakin that you would give a month’s pay to ease her passage into this Convent at Mafra?”
“Sir.”
“Have you done that?”
“No Sir.”
“And why not?”
Maltby took a deep breath.
“Because I do not feel it to be certain that I am the Father, Sir.”
“Which means you think that Eirin Mulcahy could be of easy virtue?”
Maltby shifted awkwardly but said nothing. Lacey sat forward.
“Let me explain something to you, Lieutenant. The men believe you to be the Father and they know that you have made a commitment towards her care. If you break that and abandon this girl, things could go very hard with you, very hard indeed!”
“Yes Sir. Sergeant Deakin explained all that to me, Sir. In Sobral, some time back.”
Lacey raised his voice.
“And he has the absolute right of it!”
He sat back.
“Do you have the ten pounds?”
“Not yet, Sir. Not until payday.”
“You know that they need the money tomorrow?”
“No, Sir.”
“But you did not find out?”
“No Sir.”
Lacey turned to O’Hare, as he pulled out his own wallet.
“O’Hare!”
With a face of stone, O’Hare found his own wallet and pulled out a five-pound note, to then place it on top of that produced by Lacey, who pushed the notes forward, both issued by Drummonds Bank
“You take these, now, to the Purser and get them exchanged into Escudos. Come pay day we will expect back, what, O’Hare?”
“Ten guineas!”
Lacey paused.
“I’m of a mind to require you to take the money to Sergeant Deakin yourself, but I’ll not embarrass you to that extent. Give it instead to RSM Gibney. Clear?”
Maltby picked up the money.
“Yes Sir.
Very clear.”
Lacey now stood up.
“And one further thing, Lieutenant. Our Followers are not there for your amusement. They are vital to what we do, in fact without them, we could well fall apart.”
He turned to O’Hare.
“You’d agree.”
“I would. I’d go further, if I could find the words!”
Maltby saluted and left. Within an hour, Gibney was at the fireside of Jed Deakin, with a purse full of Portuguese Escudos, which he handed to Deakin.
“From Maltby. Ten pounds worth.”
Deakin took the money.
“Thanks Cyrus. You’ll take some tea?”
“Ah will that!”
He sat on a box and took the tea. Eirin and Byford were sat together. He looked at them.
“Hast tha’ a ring?”
The couple looked at each other, then back at Gibney for Byford to shake his head. Gibney reached into his pocket.
“Then take this. ‘Tis an earring. Dohn’t ask how ah come by it, but ah’m thinkin’ that it should fit.”
He handed it over to Byford.
“Don’t try it yet, That’ll be bad luck, tha’ knows.”
Bridie had listened to all and came over to kiss Gibney on the cheek, avoiding the swooping whiskers.
“No need for that, Missus! Just a drop more tea!”
His cup was refilled, twice over.
Before the next dawn, Byford was despatched to march over to the Convent with Zeke Saunders. Proprieties were to be observed, the Groom was not to see the Bride before the ceremony. Long before Albright was awake and could object, Sedgwicke arrived with the cart and in climbed Eirin, her Mother Bridie, her Aunt Nellie and Jed Deakin. He carried the purse now bulging with Escudos, he himself having sold the battlefield booty in the villages around. It was a sombre group that sat in the cart, but all managed a warm smile in Eirin’s direction. Deakin patted her on the knee.
“It’s worked out, Eirin. ‘Tis all for the best. You and Byford may want to cleave together, when all is done. He’s a good man, and educated! I’ve heard nothing bad said against him. Never. You could do a lot worse!”
The Plains of Talavera Page 66