Catalina looked up at him. “Did you suspect someone was spying when you left me?”
He shook his head. “No. I always walk the perimeter of the camp before I retire.”
“It was coincidental, then. It is a shame we did not see him pass information on to someone else.”
“Yes, this is not ideal, but it seldom ever is. I could not risk losing him. It was dark and he could have easily slipped away from me.”
“I do not blame you, señor. I would have done the same, she remarked. “There has to be someone who is passing messages for him. He never leaves my father’s side long enough to do it himself.”
“The only names you have not suggested are English,” Major Knight pointed out.
“Very true. Perhaps you may draw something out of him on the next leg of the journey.”
She left him at the edge of the trees and went off with her maid to find her own privacy, wondering what else she could do, in all seriousness. Dion was never going to confess to her, but hopefully she had helped to wear him down a little.
Chapter Seven
Felix half slept the next leg of the journey, and he thought Dion did as well. Sometimes silence was a more powerful, disconcerting form of torture than talking. Quiet allowed your mind to wander to deep, dark crevices that you were not aware existed, which disturbed your mental state and led to near derangement. Let Dion stew about what was coming.
When the cavalcade stopped again, Lieutenant Colonel Roberts came for a visit and looked in on the prisoner, but he did not stay long. Then Lady Catalina rejoined them.
Dion had not said a word for the last few hours, but he groaned with displeasure at the sight of her.
Felix chuckled. “It seems your form of torture is most effective, Señorita.”
She raised her eyebrows at him and took a seat, settling her skirts around her. Dion shuffled to the side to get further away from her. He was definitely becoming irritated and testy, which was a good sign.
Sounds of activity rose from the chatter around them; the sounds of horses and wagons being loaded in preparation to set off again. They had left Villanueva behind and the road was taking them over the Mountain of Oca. It was already a rough, stony road and further on would be steep and narrow. Felix did not much relish being the last vehicle, but he knew it was necessary.
Such a narrow thoroughfare would doubtless have places where the passing of only one horse or mule at a time would be permissible. He grimaced. The artillery would have a hard time of it, that was for certain, and would inevitably delay their own progress. One by one, they heard the wagons and carts in front of them begin to pull forward. This was to be the last leg of the day before they crossed the River Ebro and then began the descent to Vitoria. To judge from the maps, the route down the mountain would be equally as torturous. Once at Vitoria, Wellington hoped to make a decisive push against the French army by surrounding them. It only awaited the intelligence that that was the best place.
Felix was growing impatient; he never enjoyed riding inside, but being the last vehicle, their carriage was inevitably the slowest and he was ready to be done with this day. Part of him wondered what Lady Catalina had in store for her next show and he felt himself smile. Then the carriage shifted from the movement of someone jumping down from the box seat.
He and Lady Catalina exchanged frowns. There was more movement and he was not sure if someone jumped on or jumped off.
“What is happening?” Catalina asked.
“The driver is probably tightening the traces,” he answered, privately not convinced.
“Probably,” she said, still frowning. Clearly deciding to look out anyway, she stood up and opened the panel in the roof. “Where is Maria?” she demanded. “And who are you?”
“Nothing to worry about, miss. We are just changing drivers to give yours a rest,” he replied in excellent Spanish.
Felix heard the crack of a whip and the carriage lurched forward while Lady Catalina was still standing. She strained to regain her balance and Felix reached up to steady her.
“How dare he!”
“Who is he?” Felix asked.
“I have never seen him before and my maid is no longer there. I do not like this at all.”
Neither did Felix, but he tried to appear calm.
“What uniform was the driver wearing?”
Catalina appeared to think. “I would say it was English.”
Felix nodded. It probably was as simple as resting the other driver, but why would the maid be gone?
They both settled back for the journey, but Felix could not be easy. They began by going at a snail’s pace, but then the vehicle’s speed picked up noticeably just as they began to navigate the winding passes. The driver took the bends at reckless speeds and, alarmingly, it felt as though they were tipping on to two wheels whenever they rounded a sharp turn.
Catalina began to look very green and Dion’s face took on a look of terror, his eyes wide. Felix felt mild regret for the man, being bound, but let it pass. Dion deserved to be terrified, but he and Lady Catalina did not.
“Do you know anything about this?” he asked Dion.
The lieutenant shook his head vehemently.
“I strongly suspect that whoever you were gathering secrets for is now trying to rid himself of all of us.” Felix scooted toward the window and looked out to see the steep cliffs plunging straight down into a deep ravine. The summits of bleak, rocky mountains reared above them, white caps of snow glistening in the June sun, while goats and sheep grazed tiny belts of grass above deep chasms. Swallowing deeply, he sat back quickly to quell his lurching stomach. Something was not right.
Did the driver intend to sacrifice himself in order to kill the rest of them? If the pace was not slowed quickly, they would all plunge to their deaths.
“What is happening?” Lady Catalina asked. “I think our driver is drunk!”
“Stop him!” Dion shouted frantically.
Felix was not certain what he could do, but he began to push himself up, ignoring the pain. Trying to climb out of a moving carriage was a feat he was not certain a trained Astley’s performer could accomplish on a level field. In this perilous situation, with a bad leg, he had a slim chance at best.
Lady Catalina groaned. “Never mind, I will do it,” she said, muttering about the unfairness of having to wear skirts. She opened the door and he got a glimpse of barren, dusty rocks speeding by. As she clung to the side, he heard her begin to retch. He thought he recalled she had mentioned feeling sick with the motion when inside a carriage.
Somehow, she seemed to have gathered her composure, for she put her foot on the seat beside him and climbed on top of the carriage. If they lived, he would compliment her later, he decided appreciatively. The conveyance was not the best sprung and rattled from side to side, lurching over loose stones in its path. If he allowed himself time to consider, he would not do it. Swallowing again, he followed behind his courageous charge, determined to help. Even if she was able to subdue the driver, would she be able to control the horses?
Felix held on to the side, the carriage body shaking beneath his fingers; his feet still on the doorstep, he watched Lady Catalina doing the same where she knelt on the roof. Seeing her safe for the moment, he stole a glance ahead.
They were on a straight stretch of road for the moment, though the drop down was decidedly steep and rugged. He tried not to think about it as he heaved himself up onto the carriage alongside the lady.
The driver, a nondescript individual wearing an infantry uniform, shot a frightened look over his shoulder just then and noticing them, began to panic. He started to climb from the box onto one of the horse’s backs. Felix shook his head. That was instant suicide.
Nothing about this drama had a happy ending written upon it, though, and they needed to find a way to stop the hurtling carriage and quickly.
“For God’s sake, man, don’t be a fool. Pull them up!” Felix shouted in English, but either the man was ignori
ng him or did not hear over the noise.
At any moment, he thought, when the horses saw the man trying to jump on them they were going to bolt, and then they would all be smashed to pieces in the bottom of the ravine.
The driver jumped, and the horses immediately shied. The carriage lurched.
Somehow, the man managed to land on the back of one of the wheelers and was sawing at the traces with a knife.
The carriage veered from side to side. Felix inched forward towards the box, clutching tightly to the rim of the body lest he be thrown, and Lady Catalina did the same. “Try to grab the reins!” he shouted over the roar in his ears. The narrow lines of leather were flapping loosely over the foot-board. One heavy jerk and they would be down around the wheelers’ legs…
Lady Catalina was more nimble than he and she somehow clambered on to the box and grabbed the reins as the villain succeeded in cutting one of the traces. Felix had not thought the double leather could have been so easily cut, unless they had been weakened beforehand.
As Felix watched in horror, it was one of those moments which happened in a second yet stopped time. He knew the carriage would skew at an angle and turn them over and throw them only God knew where.
“Jump!” he shouted to Lady Catalina as he threw himself off the side away from the steep cliff. The carriage lurched and lost its balance; the second trace snapped, the horses galloped on and the body of the vehicle tumbled over the side of the cliff. Dear God, Dion is tied up! Felix thought belatedly as his body landed with a thud against some scrub bushes. Jolts of pain shot through his injured leg.
“Catalina!” he shouted, looking around for her. She had landed a few feet in front of him and was lying very still. Too still. As he forced himself to crawl to her, he noticed the driver was vanishing into the distance with the horses, clinging like a monkey and managing to stay on. Felix would worry about that later.
Somehow, nothing else seemed to matter but Lady Catalina.
When he reached her, she was staring up at the sky in a stunned condition. “Señorita?” he asked before he touched her. She was gasping for breath. “My lady? Are you harmed?”
“It hurts to breathe,” she answered through shallow breaths.
“Can you move your arms and legs?”
She responded by moving them slightly and Felix breathed a sigh of relief. It happened often to soldiers when they fell off a horse. They called it getting the wind knocked out of them. He was not certain Lady Catalina would appreciate the humor at the moment.
“Breathe slowly and it will pass. Trust me.” She gave a slight nod and obeyed.
“What happened to the carriage?” she asked between gasps.
“You should not try to speak. I have not looked yet. It went over the side. If you are unharmed, I will try to find out.”
“Go,” she wheezed. “I will be well again in a moment.”
As Felix pulled himself to his feet, every part of his body hurt. No matter how many times he had fallen from horses, he had never learned to do it properly. Although, actually, this time he did not seem to have broken any bones, so perhaps that was as proper as he could expect.
He limped over to the edge of the road and looked down. The carriage had landed some twenty feet below and was upside down on a ledge. Felix closed his eyes and said a quick prayer. Very likely Dion had been destined for a traitor’s death, but Felix would have at least given him a fair trial.
As he pondered how to climb down to the carriage, Lady Catalina came to stand beside him, holding her arm.
“Do you think he is dead?” she asked.
“It will be a miracle if he has survived, but I intend to find out for certain. Have you broken your arm?”
“I fear I must have done. We have made a wonderful pair of spies, have we not?”
“We are alive. That must count for something. Especially as I believe we were all intended to die.”
*
Catalina knew it was the truth, but it was still a shock to hear it.
“Do you intend to climb down there?” she asked doubtfully.
“As soon as I have put a splint on your arm.”
“My arm can wait. I will look for a piece of wood while you go—if you think you are able with your injury?”
His only response was an ironic lift of an eyebrow.
Feeling her cheeks warm, Catalina watched nervously while Major Knight climbed downward despite his knife wound. In her opinion, he went much too quickly, and a time or two he slid on loose scree. She was certain he was going to fall down the entire side of the mountain. It was so steep, he had almost to run from limb to limb to catch himself.
Catalina held her breath as he crept the last few feet towards the carriage. It was precariously positioned on a ledge and looked as though it would only take a mild gust of wind to blow it on down the mountainside.
“Can you see anything?” she called down, growing impatient to know Dion’s fate.
Major Knight cast an annoyed glance her way, to which she gave a little shrug in response, although he had turned away and did not even see.
She watched as he held on to some vegetation on the side of the mountain and went down on his knees to peer inside. It appeared he could not see well, for he held on to look inside the door, which had broken off. The carriage hitched precariously and he leaned back while it settled. Then he moved cautiously forward to look inside again. What he saw must have been shocking, for he turned his head away quickly, as though composing himself, and then looked around.
Catalina’s own stomach convulsed sympathetically, which was not so far-fetched after her earlier queasiness. She gave thanks that she was not the one to have found Dion. Sadness and fear caused her to tremble. If it was true that they had all been intended to perish – that the driver had been ordered by someone to see that they had an accident—then they would likely try again… unless Dion had been their main object and she and Major Knight were merely incidental casualties. Much though she wished it might be so, she found that possibility difficult to believe.
A movement below jerked her from her reverie. Major Knight was reaching into the carriage, the idiot. It swayed, and she gasped. He crawled backwards from the wreckage holding a couple of haversacks and the basket of food she had brought him earlier. It seemed so long ago.
He looked all around the carriage and down where it would go if it fell further. She turned away to hide her eyes. She could not look as he began to climb upward. When she heard his exertions nearby, she turned back around and took some of his burdens from him as he pulled himself up on to the road. Breathing heavily and now covered in dirt and sweat, he limped away from the precipitous drop.
Catalina did not know what to say; she was still trembling with fright. Now that Knight had once more reached safety, the horror of their situation began to occur to her. Her broken arm throbbed with pain and they were alone on a desolate mountain road. It would be several hours before anyone realized they were missing and come looking for them. Soon it would be dark and no one would venture out this way, in such dangerous conditions, without a moon.
A comforting arm wrapped around her, pulling her from her disturbing thoughts.
Heedless of the familiarity she settled into his arms, simply grateful she was not alone.
“What do we do now?” she asked with her head against his chest, comforted by the beat of his heart against her ear.
“Your arm. I must splint your arm.” He reached over, took up the basket and broke it apart, fashioning a flat, hard surface to place beneath it for stability.
He touched the bottom of her petticoat. “May I?”
“Please do,” she answered wryly. “When we danced in the palace ballroom, I had no notion that one day, when you touched my skirt, it would be for such an unromantic reason.”
“And I had not thought to be touching your skirts at all,” he answered in an equally dry tone as he ripped the bottom strip from the linen petticoat and tore it into strips. “This will
hurt,” he warned as he placed her forearm on the piece of wood and straightened it from her hand to her elbow.
She gritted her teeth, but managed to refrain from screaming. He wrapped it with the lengths of petticoat and tied them firmly.
“You have done this before,” she remarked.
“More times than I would like to think about,” he agreed. “Is your pain improved?”
“Now that the first agony of straightening has subsided and I think about it, I believe it is. Thank you.”
He laughed. “We certainly make a pair, do we not? We have completely bungled ourselves and our task.”
“Yes,” she agreed with a chuckle, sobering immediately when she thought of where they were, what had happened and how far they would have to walk to catch up with the rest of the train.
“I should have realized what was happening when they changed drivers. It is not even a clever ruse. I suppose I thought your being with us was protection from such tricks.”
“Not if they know of the true nature of my role with my father. It did not occur to me such villainy would be attempted while traveling with the entire camp.”
“Except we were at the very end—an easy target.” He held out his hand. “They are becoming desperate.”
“I cannot believe the driver agreed to do such a thing, but obviously it was his intention all along.”
“That, or to jump when the carriage rolled off the cliff.”
Catalina sighed heavily. “I expect we should begin walking. The caravan will stop for the night soon and perhaps we may gain some ground before they notice we are gone.”
“I do not know how fast—or far—I can walk this night. I fear my incision has split open.” He tilted his head towards the offending thigh, which, she now noticed, was bleeding through his bandage onto his trousers.
Catalina frowned. “My sewing kit is with my trunks in the wagon.”
“I believe more of your petticoat might have to be sacrificed, Señorita.” He sounded amused.
The Dark of Knight Page 7