“It seems unlikely that he is innocent, sir,” Everleigh replied.
Wellington shook his head. “There is only one thing to do. I must put Hill’s regiment in place of the Spanish one.”
Felix and Everleigh exchanged glances.
“I will not announce it until tomorrow morning when we march. It will be too late for him to warn anyone off. I will escort them myself. Now let us hope that I have not been outmaneuvered by my own people.”
Felix was pleased for Catalina that her father was innocent, but he absolutely hated that Hill appeared to be the traitor. How Wellington must be feeling, ordering one of his oldest friends to the front line, similar to David with Uriah the Hittite. Except Wellington was not at fault and Hill was. It was entirely different, his conscience tried to reason, but what if he had been set up just as Mendoza had? If only there was a way to be certain, but Hill had left the tents with the dispatches still out in the open. The only other possibility was Hill’s batman.
“What do we know of Hill’s man?” Felix asked, just as Wellington and Everleigh were about to depart.
Wellington frowned. “I will have to ask Beckerman. I do not even know the man’s name, come to think of it.”
“Now that you mention it, I do not believe I do either,” Everleigh added.
“Look into it when we return, Captain,” Wellington said. “An unlikely culprit, but we must check every possibility. Now I must return. There’s much to do before the morrow.”
They went their separate ways, Felix returning to the farm trying to think of what else he could do. He was not terribly useful in the daylight, especially not in the English side of the camp where he was more likely to be recognized. He walked back to the farm, ready to eat and perhaps talk things over with Lady Catalina. Knowing that her father was free of suspicion, it would be easier to discuss the situation with her without that burden between them.
It occurred to Felix that he did not know what Lady Catalina would do during the battle. Did she normally wait with the women at the camp? To his knowledge, her main avenue for information came from charming gentlemen. That thought made him growl out loud, so distasteful was the thought of her flirting with other men that he had to stop himself from his possessive thoughts. Truly, he did not want to think what was next after the battle. Would he ever see her again? If Wellington succeeded, they would no longer occupy Spain and the Spanish force would probably remain behind.
The realization made him feel desolate, and guilty, for he should be elated by the prospect. In a mere few weeks, the petite Spanish señorita had wormed her way into his heart. The thought of leaving her was untenable. Visions of her and Eugenia creating mischief together kept intruding into his dreams as well as dark haired toddlers climbing into his lap for a story. Stupid, unwelcome thoughts. He dismissed them hastily and continued on his way to the barn.
When he climbed the ladder, he could feel his anticipation grow. What would it be like to come home to her every day? To be her partner?
He caught a glimpse of her asleep on the pallet, a tabby cat curled up in the bend of her knees. Now adding jealousy of a cat to his growing list of faults, he looked down upon the face which was so angelic in repose. He smiled wryly. She was a perfect mix of angel and devil, and he wanted to keep her. Only he did not know how.
*
The next morning, everyone was up before dawn preparing to ride out for a battle. Owens, Everleigh, and Knight all donned their uniform coats in stoic silence, unlike their usual mornings. Catalina was used to her father’s ways, but it was somehow more real—more unsettling—to see these three men in such a way. It was a stark recall back to reality from the past few days she’d spent with them. In some ways, she envied them being able to put on a uniform and go fight. It was insufferable to be left behind waiting and wondering what had become of them. She had no such intention of sitting there idly at the farm all day, but she was not sure what she could do to help.
Many soldiers would die that day, and Catalina prayed fervently that her loved ones would be safe, including these three men who had become dear to her.
Besides the looming battle was the question of treason. Would there be surprises they had not foreseen or had failed to detect? Some things still did not sit right with any of them about Colonel Hill—especially the connection with Dion. It did not make sense. But if Hill was not involved, then someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to set him up.
Catalina, for one, was still very uneasy about Dion being out there somewhere meaning them harm.
While the men finished preparing for battle, Catalina gathered some of their provisions of fruit, bread, and cheese for their sacks and filled their canteens with water. It was definitely best to stay busy and not think about what lay ahead. She descended the ladder with them as they went to prepare their horses.
Major Knight lagged behind with her. “Dare I ask what you plan to do today?”
“I do not know,” she admitted truthfully. “I want to do something. Perhaps I will go to the camp and see what I can discover.”
“Will they not be shocked to see you alive?”
“Probably, but I can use that to my advantage. Maybe they will know something we missed. I will send word, but it may be too late.”
“I do not like you being on your own.” He frowned with endearing concern.
“It is not ideal, but I know there is some connection we have missed and Dion is still out there waiting to strike. I know it.”
“You think your father is in danger?”
She waved her hands. “I do not know. I do not understand if he was trying to frame Papa or simply use him for cover. It seems strange that he would be working with your Colonel Hill.”
“True. We have found no connection.”
Catalina sighed heavily. “And you ride out with a regiment?”
“We run dispatches for Wellington or whatever he sees fit to task us with.”
She gave a distracted nod. It was never easy to send her father away into battle, knowing he was a prime target. Somehow it was different this time. She was not sure why.
When they were ready to ride away, Catalina dutifully kissed each one of their cheeks and wished them God’s protection.
She held back her tears until they were beyond hearing and continued to watch until they passed from site. The tabby cat was winding around her ankles and she picked it up and snuggled with it. “You knew I needed comfort,” she said with a harsh laugh through her tears. She needed much more than comfort.
Catalina decided to become herself again and ride into the camp. She only had one dress in her small bag and it needed to be pressed. She took it to the house, and begged the assistance of a maid to help her dress and style her hair. If she was to return from the dead, she did not wish to look like she was.
By the time she reached the edge of the camp, the soldiers had already departed to form their columns for the battle some twenty miles away.
They would be able to hear when it began and despite what the women and children occupied themselves with when the men left, they would all be worried sick until it was over and the casualties listed. The walking wounded would make their way back, and many would busy themselves tending to injuries. Catalina often did, but first, time was critical to see if there was any last chance to find the missing piece to solve this mystery.
Catalina left Luna in the makeshift paddock where extra horses were kept by the cavalry and officers.
There would be many questions asked when she showed her face, but her pride was hardly worth giving thought to the consequences.
A few gasps of surprise and exclamations greeted her when some of the Spanish women recognized her. Soon, many had gathered around and wanted to hear the story.
She had thought about it a great deal before she arrived, and decided there was no point in withholding the truth.
As she told the story, something drew her eyes to the edge of the crowd where she saw her maid Maria, wide-eyed wi
th a mixture of surprise and anger on her face. Catalina had given little thought to the maid since she left her that moment before everything changed. She smiled and gave a little wave to Maria, though it was some time before she could escape the curious crowd that had gathered around her. It was not every day that the general’s daughter returned from the dead. She evaded questions of a personal nature that might impugn her honor, and when asked about Lieutenant Dion who had been a great favorite with the ladies, Catalina seized her opportunity.
“Lieutenant Dion did not die in the accident. We have been looking everywhere for him—’tis why we are so far behind. My father’s men searched and never found his body, and then we heard reports he was seen near here two days ago.”
There was a collective gasp from the gathering.
“Where could he be? Why would he not announce himself?” various women asked.
“That is exactly what we wish to know.” Catalina made a face that pointed out suspicion without overtly accusing him of anything. “We believe someone is hiding him here in the camp. If you see him, please let myself or my father know. We only want to help him.”
“Where have you been, my lady?” a voice shouted.
“I was taken to my home to recover. My arm was broken.” she held up the offending limb so they could see her splint.
The first rifle shot echoed in the distance, causing all of them to still and many cross themselves in silent prayer.
A peppering of shots followed; it was always thus. Once the dam was broken, the battle rushed with fury.
The women began to disburse, and Catalina went to look for Maria. Instead of waiting for her lady, the maid was hurrying away. Catalina frowned and then her footsteps hurried after. Why did she seem to be running away? Many questions flooded through her mind that she had never thought to ask before. Where was Maria staying in Catalina’s absence? Had she found someone else to serve? Had she heard Catalina’s remarks about Dion? Maria had always been no better than she ought to be around the lieutenant.
That led her to another train of thought. Dion’s trunks—were they ever searched? Major Knight had remarked upon wanting to search them, but where had they gone?
Every tent looked the same, Catalina thought, frustrated as she lost sight of Maria’s dark dress. Never before had she chased anyone through camp either, she argued with herself disparagingly.
She was near to running in a most unladylike fashion, wishing she was still in trousers, when she passed a familiar face of a camp follower. “Where is my maid Maria’s tent?” she asked, trying to catch her breath.
“Three down and to the left,” she answered, and Catalina gave a wave of thanks as she hurried on.
Cannons boomed ominously in the background and Catalina flinched with every shot fired. It was impossible not to worry every time anew, especially not knowing where her father’s column was, or where the English were. She grasped her rosary as she reached Maria’s tent.
“Maria?” she called as she lifted the flap. Normally, she would have waited, but the maid had been no more than a few steps ahead of her.
The maid wore a look of fury. Her eyes were narrowed, her jaw was clenched, as were her fists at her side. “What do you want?” she growled.
Catalina was taken aback. Never had she heard a cross word from the girl. “Has something happened, Maria? I thought you would be pleased to see me.”
“Has something happened?” the girl asked harshly. “Everything has happened! You have ruined everything!”
“I?” Catalina was at a complete loss.
“You have taken up with English. You are a traitor and a whore!”
Catalina stepped forward and slapped Maria. “How dare you! Do you know what I have been through this past week? The English have taken care of me and are our allies. They are helping us reclaim our country from the unlawful king!”
Maria spat. “I prefer him to the disloyal English who think raping and killing innocent women their right!”
Catalina had never seen Maria in such a state. She was becoming hysterical. “What happened, Maria?” she asked softly, trying to calm her down.
Maria looked her in the eye for the first time Catalina could remember. Cold fury glared at her. “They raped me and my sister at Ciudad Rodrigo. Leonora did not survive.”
“I did not know, Maria.”
Before Catalina could express sympathy, Maria spoke again in a voice devoid of expression. “That is why they deserve to die.”
Catalina felt sick at all of the signs she had missed. Everything began to fall into place, and Maria was the missing piece. She had to reach the front line before it was too late.
Chapter Sixteen
Since Everleigh and Owens had discovered that the French were easy targets in the valley around Vitoria, the Allies’ hopes of success were greatly increased—the French believing even Wellington would not attempt an attack over such dangerous terrain. Wellington and his staff sat atop their horses overlooking a plain, which was dissected by broad and deep dykes. The trees were in full leaf of bright green and provided any number of places of concealment. It would not be easy, but war was a time to take calculated risks, not play safe; indeed, dividing the army was a definite risk. Wellington knew this was a chance to cut off the French army, and had declared his intention of seizing it.
Felix was acutely aware that Dion was still at liberty with the intent to do harm. In addition, his instinct told him Hill was the one to watch, not Mendoza, but both men would be carefully guarded—more so than was usual in a battle. Felix and Wellington were to stay near Hill’s regiment, while Owens and Everleigh were to position themselves with Graham’s regiment, alongside the Spanish to the French rear. His two comrades gave a nod as they moved off, and Felix watched as the remainder of the army began to fight, away to the right.
Felix often felt guilty for not being down at the forefront of the fighting, but he knew his job was important, nonetheless. Reconnoitering and staying one step ahead of the enemy was often what won and lost battles.
As he watched the guns fire and cannon explode below, he could not help but think of Catalina. He hoped she was being wise—although he doubted she was giving much regard to her safety. She would do what she thought necessary. He wondered how she had been received by her people. Few of his fellows had been surprised to see Felix; his position involved danger and intrigue, and he had returned from imprisonment before.
His mind busy with these musings, Felix led his horse away from the fighting to stroll the perimeter. Unfortunately, the terrain, which they were using to their advantage, also left areas blind and vulnerable. If Dion truly wished to hide and be a marksman for Hill or anyone else to whom he answered, this would be the perfect spot. Currently, Hill was in the thick of his regiment as they advanced on the enemy.
A runner had just come forward and reported a bridge across the river to be undamaged and unguarded. Wellington had ordered the entire force that was not engaged in combat to cross. Wellington always seemed to have the luck of the devil, but if it meant this battle was the finale, then Felix did not care how it happened.
The air quickly filled with smoke and the acrid odor of gunpowder. Already, injured men were being brought to the medical tents erected for the purpose and those able were walking back to the camp.
He mounted and climbed a short rise to get a better view. At once, the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. Immediately, he dismounted from his horse, tied him to a tree and sought cover, stripping off his red coat to help him hide. He would not give Dion the advantage and he would not mistake his instinct for an animal. Usually, the animals made themselves scarce at the first noise of a fire-fight.
Perhaps he was imagining things, but he did not intend to be caught unawares for a third time. Dion certainly had the advantage in the situation. It still gnawed at Felix that he did not understand the motive or the connections.
He pulled out his spyglass and surveyed the area around him. He tried t
o think like one intent on destroying the Allies’ plans. How would Dion react to Mendoza’s regiment having been traded for Hill’s? Without knowing his purpose, it was impossible to guess, but Felix would wager Dion was nearby.
Felix could detect nothing, and frustration filled his veins. Something was going to happen and he felt helpless to stop it. He watched from the heights above as the army crossed the fast-flowing river on the plain below. As soon as the French discovered the 3rd Division had crossed the bridge, they turned their cannon on them with heavy fire. It was difficult to watch, but they seemed to be holding their ground.
There looked to be a great number of casualties on either side. He watched a horse being shot from beneath its rider—the worst sort of tragedy in Felix’s opinion – a man flying through the air when a shell exploded in front of him, infantry forming squares, bayonets raised, frantic reloading of muskets, pools of blood on the ground…
Unable to watch any longer, Felix drew his attention back to his surroundings, glad to feel the sensation of Dion’s presence abating. Had he missed his chance? Reluctantly, he abandoned his hiding place and remounted to rejoin Wellington, who was commanding two columns of his own in addition to the entire army.
Owens rode over from the east to report, composed but his voice laced with urgency. “Graham and the Spanish have captured the road between Vitoria and Bayonne, and have taken the road to Bilbao.”
“Excellent. We should soon have them surrounded!” Wellington remarked with rare effusiveness. “Pass the word on as you return. It should boost morale,” he added, dismissing Owens, who saluted then wheeled his horse to return.
As they watched Owens depart, Wellington looked questioningly at Felix, but he shook his head.
“Nothing, sir. But I know he is near.”
“I think you had better shadow Hill. It is the only thing we have to go on.”
The Dark of Knight Page 15