FOR one infinitesimal moment after the shot was fired, no one moved, except the Englishman, whose body fell to the ground with a thump and lay still. Olivia, from her hiding place, smiled in triumph and patted the butt of the heavy Baker rifle which had made it possible. But then all was commotion as some of the guerrilleros ran for guns which had been stacked against the wall and others turned towards the wagon where the difting gunsmoke betrayed her position. Now she had to keep the initiative and there was no time to reload. She darted out from her hiding place and ran to where the Leopard lay. Still startled, the men did nothing to stop her.
‘You imbeciles!’ she shouted. ‘You could have killed him!’
Don Santandos was the first to recover. ‘That, madame, was our intention,’ he said. ‘And but for your lucky shot he would be dead by now.’
She bit off the retort that it had not been luck but marksmanship, and concentrated on playing the distraught female. In a way she was distraught; without Mr Leopard, she was lost; reluctantly she had to admit it. ‘He is my husband,’ she said. ‘He is the one who will tell you I am who I say I am. Oh, if he dies…’
The partisans were watching, doing nothing, but she could not expect them to remain inactive for long; she had to convince them. ‘Darling! Darling, speak to me,’ she cried, as she worked to loosen the rope around their victim’s neck. She put her ear to his chest. His heart was beating like a hammer on an anvil. ‘You are my husband,’ she whispered, bending low over him so that her face was against his ear. ‘Tell me your name.’ When he did not reply, she lifted her head to look at him, wondering if he had heard her, or even if he could speak. His eyes were closed and there was an angry red weal round his neck where the rope had been.
‘Oh, do not die on me, my love!’ she cried, with more anguish than ever for the benefit of the onlookers. ‘I love you. I need you.’
She was not sure, but she thought she detected a slight grin on his face and hoped fervently no one else had seen it. To make sure of that, she bent and kissed him on the mouth and was completely taken aback when he put his arm round her neck so that her head was imprisoned and kissed her back. Where he found the strength to hold her so firmly after what he had been through she did not know. She was acutely aware of their audience as the kiss lengthened and became something more than a mere meeting of lips.
Then he moved his mouth, oh, so slowly, round to her ear, making her shiver. ‘Robert,’ he croaked. ‘Robert Lynmount.’
‘Come now, madame,’ Don Santandos said. ‘Enough is enough. Such antics are best left to the bedroom and prove nothing.’
She looked up at the Spaniards who stood round grinning and covered her confusion with a show of anger. ‘You may think yourselves lucky that my husband is not dead, for Viscount Wellington would certainly have had something to say about it, I can tell you. Robert Lynmount is one of his most valued officers.’
Don Santandos laughed. ‘I would say his value is less than a dozen buttons and a metre of braid.’
She chose to ignore this reference to the Englishman’s mutilated uniform. ‘Now, will you please help him to a bed where he can recover?’ She prayed her authoritative manner would have the desired effect, because they had no hope of fighting their way out, even if she still held the gun and could reload.
‘You have courage, madame, I’ll grant you,’ Don Santandos said. ‘It has earned you both a reprieve, albeit a temporary one.’ He turned to give orders to two of his men who went to pick the Englishman up, one at his head and the other at his feet, but before they could do so he sat up and pushed them away. They stood back and watched as he forced himself to his feet. He stood, swaying a little before finding his balance, but Olivia knew better than to try to help him. He was an exceptionally strong man and he was also proud.
Don Santandos smiled. ‘Good. Come with me.’ He turned to lead the way into the building.
Olivia, tagging along behind, realised it had been a long time since the monastery had been used for the purpose for which it had been built. It was a small fortress; every window was a gun embrasure, with weapons and ammunition at the ready. There was food stacked in the room which had once been the monks’ kitchens and truckle-beds and straw paliasses were scattered about. They were obviously preparing for a siege. If they thought she and Philippe had been aware of their preparations when they captured them, it was no wonder they had been so anxious that they should not return to Ciudad Rodrigo and the French army.
‘You look surprised, madame,’ Don Santandos said in French. ‘Why should that be?’
‘Please do not call me madame. I am not French; I have told you so a dozen times. My name is Mrs Lynmount. And yes, I am surprised to find so much preparation for war in a place like this.’
‘Because it is a monastery? They were built to withstand sieges, Mrs Lynmount.’
She was glad that he had changed to English; perhaps he was ready to be convinced, after all. ‘Not just that, but because it is so far from the main road. I can’t imagine an army deciding to come this way. The ground is too rough and the way too narrow.’
‘It would come if there was no alternative. What we have done for a small force, we can do for a greater. Now I have said enough.’ He opened the door to one of the monks’ cells. ‘You will be comfortable in here until we decide what to do with you.’
As soon as they had gone, Robert collapsed on to the narrow bed which stood against the wall, and shut his eyes. His hand strayed to his throat and he tried to swallow.
She knelt beside him. ‘Is there anything I can do to ease it? A bandage perhaps?’
‘I must…thank you for…my deliverance.’
‘I was angry.’
He grinned, but it was more a grimace of pain. ‘Angry enough to attempt…the impossible… The luck of the…gods must have been with you.’
‘Luck didn’t come into it,’ she said, busily tearing the hem off her petticoat to make a bandage. ‘I have been a crack shot ever since I was big enough to lift a pistol.’
His disbelief was obvious, but she let it pass; she was used to it. ‘Even a rifleman…would consider that a…shot in a thousand,’ he said. ‘And you must have known…that even if it succeeded…you would be taken prisoner.’
‘It was you who said “sufficient unto the day”. And they had no right to do what they did. After all, they are supposed to be our allies.’ Her touch was gentle as she wound the makeshift bandage round his neck; it belied the sharpness of her tongue. ‘And you would do better not to try and talk.’
‘It was…a brave thing to do.’ His voice was becoming stronger as the effects of his ordeal wore off. ‘Especially as you are not sure of my…loyalty to my country.’
‘It does not matter what I think; it is the guerrilleros you have to convince. I told them when they first captured me that I was Philippe’s prisoner and that I was married to an English soldier. You must be that soldier. You went absent without leave to look for me. You must make them believe it. Persuade them to let us go back to our own lines.’
‘Us? Does that mean you are throwing in your lot with mine, after all?’
‘Only until we are out of this scrape.’
‘You would not be in a scrape if you had done as you were bidden and waited on the other side of the gorge for me.’
She had got herself into this mess, it was true, but it had started long before she met him. She smiled. ‘I would have had a long wait.’
‘Better than dying with me.’
‘I do not intend to die.’ She leaned back to look at her handiwork. ‘Why were they trying to hang you? What were you supposed to have stolen?’
‘A mule.’
‘For me?’ Her obvious surprise made him smile crookedly.
‘How else could I have persuaded you to come with me?’
‘And the bread?’
‘I don’t think they have missed that even now.’
She was beginning to look at him in a new light; he was certainly resourceful as well as brave and strong. ‘The hare too? And the water?’
‘Why not?’
‘You fool! And all for nothing.’
‘Nothing, my dear Olivia? How can you say that when Dame Fortune has smiled on our endeavours and given us a sure sign we are meant to go on?’
‘Whatever are you talking about?’
He touched his neck gingerly. ‘Now I don’t have to pretend, I can be a silent Philippe and be convincing.’
‘Oh, you are impossible! It is out of the question, and if the guerrilleros hear that you intend to go to the French they will make sure we do not escape. They may decide that hanging is too good for us and try torture. Besides, if the French are sending supply wagons as far forward as this, they must have left Ciudad Rodrigo to continue their advance.’
‘Do you know how far forward we are?’
‘No, and I doubt the guerrilleros will tell us.’
He sat up suddenly, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pulled her up beside him as footsteps sounded on the stone floor outside their cell. When the door opened he was holding her in a tight embrace and his lips were on hers. To have tried to resist would have made the man who stood in the doorway suspicious and yet she did not want the Englishman to think that kissing strange men was something she made a habit of and he could do it with impunity. She had had two husbands before but neither had kissed her like this. His strength and determination went into that kiss, but it was more than that; it hinted at a latent passion which promised all manner of delight if only she would submit and return fire with fire.
But she would not; he was taking advantage of their situation and it just would not do. But even as the thought crossed her mind she was weakening; his mouth, exploring hers, overwhelmed her senses and made her whole traitorous body melt against his. She forgot everything — her surroundings, her widowhood, even the man who stood in the doorway, as she succumbed to a need she had never before acknowledged.
Robert lifted his head at last and looked over her shoulder at the newcomer. ‘Go away; can’t you see I am busy?’
The spell had been broken and she took the opportunity to pull herself away and sit up, now acutely aware of the smiling Spaniard. ‘The chief sent me to fetch you to join him for supper. Come, follow me.’
Reluctantly Robert rose to obey and Olivia, struck dumb, could do nothing but follow as their guide conducted them to the refectory, where almost the whole band of partisans were sitting around a table laden with food and bottles of wine.
‘Sit down, my friends,’ Don Santandos said, waving a chicken leg at them. ‘Eat heartily. Let it not be said Don Santandos does not know how to treat his prisoners.’ He looked up at Robert. ‘I trust your neck is not too uncomfortable for you to swallow?’ He pointed at two empty spaces on the bench next to him and waited until they had taken their seats and food had been set before them. Then he filled their glasses. ‘You were lucky, you know,’ he said, addressing Robert. ‘So lucky it is almost unbelievable, and because of that I am inclined to take it as a sign that you are not meant to die — not yet.’ He smiled. ‘We might have other uses for you.’
Robert, who was reluctant to put food into his mouth in case he could not swallow it, picked up his glass and held it up in salute to Don Santandos. ‘Be assured, Don Santandos, if I can be of service, I shall deem it an honour. After all, one good turn deserves another.’ He sipped the wine. Olivia, watching, noticed the almost imperceptible wince of pain as he swallowed it.
The Spaniard laughed. ‘It is a good turn to be half strangled?’
‘No, señor, I was referring to the fact that you had done me the service of killing the man who took my wife, and saved me the trouble.’
‘Ahh.’ He looked at Robert’s untouched plate. ‘Would you rather have soup, my friend? It will go down more easily.’ He clicked his fingers and one of his men hurried to the kitchens. ‘We shall, of course, have to have proof of your story. You have no papers, nothing on your uniform to tell us which regiment you came from, nor your rank. And there are no British troops this side of the Coa.’
‘You are wrong.’
‘You mean Craufurd’s Light Division?’
‘It is hardly a secret.’ Don Santandos paused to swallow his glass of wine in one gulp. ‘For someone who is supposed to be covering a retreat, he is being particularly aggressive. Is that where you came from?’
‘No.’
‘Why are you alone?’
‘He came looking for me.’ Olivia found her voice at last.
‘And who would not want to search for so beautiful an example of the fair sex?’ The Spaniard laughed suddenly. ‘Even if she does handle a rifle like a trooper.’
‘Better,’ she said, making him laugh again.
He turned to Robert. ‘You have taught her well, but don’t you think a gun in the hands of a woman is a fatal combination?’
‘It is only fatal if I want it to be,’ she snapped quickly. ‘And I can out-shoot any man here. Give me a weapon and I will prove it.’
Don Santandos roared with laughter, and though his men had not understood the conversation they knew something had tickled the fancy of their chief and followed suit. ‘You are a trier, I give you that,’ he said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. ‘But I am not such a fool as to fall for that one.’
‘It was worth a try,’ she said, smiling.
‘I think,’ said Robert, as a bowl of soup was set before him, ‘I think I have a better proposition than that.’
‘Oh, let us hear it. It will amuse us while we wait.’
‘Wait for what?’ Olivia demanded.
No one answered her. Robert stood up and beckoned to Don Santandos. ‘A word in your ear, señor.’
Two or three of the partisans pushed back the bench on which they sat, making it overturn with a clatter, and rushed to seize Robert’s arms. He stood without struggling, still looking towards their leader. ‘Come, Don Santandos, I am weak and helpless and I give you my parole.’
‘No!’ Olivia shrieked, knowing that his parole would bind him to refrain from trying to escape. ‘You fool!’
‘It seems your wife has more spunk than you do, Englishman. No wonder she preferred the company of the Frenchman.’
‘I did not! Why will you not believe me?’
‘Because, Mrs Lynmount, we had been watching you for some time before we took you prisoner and we saw what we saw. Would you like me to tell your husband that you were not behaving like a prisoner? Shall we tell him what we saw?’
‘There is no need for that.’
‘Are you afraid he would beat you?’
‘He should understand that when a woman has a choice between…’ She shrugged, allowing them to guess her meaning.
‘You mean your courage deserted you and you did not fight for your honour? Oh, Mrs Lynmount, you disappoint me.’
‘It was be his prisoner or be left to the mercy of his men.’ She deliberately turned from him and began to eat. ‘I will speak no more on the subject. If my husband is satisfied, then so should you be.’
‘Are you satisfied?’ Don Santandos asked Robert.
‘If I am not, it is between me and my wife,’ Robert said. ‘I will deal with her later; there are more important things to consider now. I have something to say to you.’
‘Then do so.’
‘In private.’
Don Santandos stood up and signalled to his men to release Robert’s arms. ‘Come, my friend, we will go for a stroll in the cloisters.’
Olivia watched the two men leave the room, aware that without them she was at the mercy of the partisans, who would not be as careful of her as their leader. They spoke only in Spanish, which was conducted rapidly and noisily with a great deal of laughter and ribald comment which was too complicated for her to follow. One or two eyed her appreciatively, but she pretended not to notice and tucked into her meal. One thing she had learned while following the drum was that if food was set before you, you ate while you had the chance, because you never knew where your next meal would be coming from. Loss of appetite because you were worried, in love or bereaved was a foolish indulgence.
After half an hour or so, Robert and Don Santandos returned with their arms on each other’s shoulders, as if they had been the best of friends all their lives. Whatever Robert had had to say, it had certainly changed the guerrilla’s attitude towards him. Don Santandos filled two glasses with wine and handed one to the Englishman. ‘To Ciudad Rodrigo and the confusion of the enemy,’ he said, clinking his glass against Robert’s.
‘Ciudad Rodrigo?’ Olivia queried in alarm. ‘Did I hear aright?’
Robert smiled at her. ‘You did, my love. I leave at first light.’
‘What about me?’ It was almost a plea.
‘You will stay here until your husband returns,’ Don Santandos said.
‘A hostage!’ she shouted at Robert. ‘You mean to leave me here as a hostage? You came all this way to find me and now you are going to abandon me to these…these…’ His warning look cut off what she was going to say and she gaped at him with her mouth open.
‘You will be well treated as befits the wife of an English officer,’ Don Santandos said. You have my word on that.’
‘I will not stay.’
‘You will obey me.’ If Robert hoped his quiet manner would make her mind him, he was wrong.
‘No!’ she shouted. ‘Never! You have no right…’
‘On the contrary, my sweet, I have the right of a husband…’
‘To abandon me? I shall…I shall…’ The men, sensing a marital tiff, were laughing and waiting to see what the English officer would do to assert his authority, and Olivia realised she was in a very precarious position. If they discovered she was not married to Robert, her value as a hostage would be nothing and they would do what they wanted with her — rape her, kill her or both, and there would be little Robert could do to save her, even if he wanted to. Anything could happen. She needed the protection of Robert’s name, however little it afforded, and as he and the guerrilla leader now seemed to be on excellent terms it behoved her to be less outspoken. She softened her tone. ‘I am sorry, Don Santandos, but Robert has had this ridiculous plan ever since we were reunited yesterday. I thought he simply wanted revenge because of what the Frenchman had done to me. The man is dead and I can see no point in courting trouble.’
‘You flatter yourself, ma’am,’ Robert said coldly. ‘It has nothing to do with you and what you did or did not do. I will deal with that when I have more time to consider a suitable punishment. We have a war to win. The French must be driven from the whole Peninsula, and, if I can help my Spanish friends to achieve that, then that is what I will do.’ He smiled at Don Santandos. ‘My wife has a French uniform coat which will do me very well, but I need a pair of breeches.’
Don Santandos laughed, clicked his fingers and gave an order. One of his men ran from the room and returned with an armful of French uniforms which he dropped on the floor. ‘Take your pick,’ he said. ‘Their former owners have no use for them now.’
Olivia knew the uniforms had been taken from the solidiers guarding the baggage train. A year before she would have been horrified at the idea of someone wearing dead men’s clothes, but is happened so often she had even become used to it. She watched as Robert crossed the room to select a pair of breeches, but she had not given up the fight yet. She turned to Don Santandos. ‘You know, señor,’ she said calmly, ‘if Robert walks into the French lines alone he has no hope at all of succeeding in what he is planning to do.’
‘He is willing to try, and if he would rather face death at the hands of the French than one of dishonour as a nobody, then I, for one, salute him. You, Mrs Lynmount, should be able to understand that.’
‘Oh, I do, but is it necessary to hold me as a hostage? I am no use to you here.’
‘I did not demand it; it was the captain’s idea.’
‘Was it, now?’ She was thoughtful. Robert had wanted her to help him, so why had he changed his mind, if the partisans had not forced him to leave her behind? Was it because he was concerned for her safety or simply that he did not trust her? Either way she had to proceed carefully. ‘Do you wish him to succeed?’ she asked.
‘Doing what?’
‘Whatever it is you have cooked up between you.’
‘It would help.’ He shrugged. ‘But if he does not it is all the same to me.’
‘I could help him. With me, his chance of surviving and returning to you would be doubled. I have been in the town. I know where Ph ——’ she corrected herself quickly ‘— where the Frenchman lodged. His papers and belongings are there. With them, Robert could pass himself off as a French officer. I could tell everyone how we were captured by guerrilleros and escaped after you left him for dead. It would be more convincing, don’t you think?’ He appeared to be considering what she was saying and she pressed home her point. ‘I also speak perfect French and he does not; he would have to remain silent.’
‘As a once hanged man that would be acceptable.’
‘Yes, but if he needs to ask or answer questions — what then?’
‘How do we know you would not immediately make your escape or inform the French of our whereabouts?’
‘Don Santandos, we do not know your whereabouts. Take us down to the main road blindfold.’
‘Then how could Captain Lynmount return with his intelligence?’
‘Arrange a meeting place.’
Robert returned with a pair of breeches over his arm. ‘Come, my love, let us go to bed; I must be up betimes.’ He paused and looked from one to the other. ‘What have you been scheming now, Olivia?’
‘I have been telling Don Santandos that I know my way about Ciudad Rodrigo and I speak perfect French. He is considering allowing me to accompany you.’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Don Santandos needs a hostage.’
‘No, he does not.’ She turned to the Spaniard. ‘You don’t, do you? You will take our word?’
Don Santandos laughed, as if amused by her persistence. ‘I will think about it.’
Robert made no attempt to hide his annoyance. He grabbed her arm and dragged her back to their cell. ‘What are you playing at?’ he demanded as soon as they were alone. ‘Yesterday you would not even consider coming with me. What is going on in that perverse head of yours?’
She laughed. ‘What did you say about the lesser of two evils? I do not want to be left behind with these men. Don Santandos may promise to keep me safe, but he cannot watch all his men all the time, and if I am not allowed a gun how can I defend myself? I would rather take my chances on the road between here and Ciudad Rodrigo.’
He stood and looked at her in astonishment. ‘You mean you would pretend to be coming with me and then run away? Have you no honour?’
‘I don’t need to give my parole; only you need do that. And let me remind you of your own words yet again: “My honour is my own affair”.’
He laughed. ‘Do you think Don Santandos will not think of that?’
‘He might not. You are supposed to be my husband and responsible for me; your word covers me too.’
‘And if I refuse to take you on the grounds I cannot trust you to keep my word?’
‘You will not refuse because it was what you have wanted all along. Now, as you are apparently fully recovered, I shall take the bed. You may sleep on the floor.’ With that she sat on the edge of the bed, which was certainly not big enough for two in any case, pulled off her boots, threw him one of the two blankets, rolled herself in the other and lay down to sleep. She could hear him chuckling as he made himself as comfortable as possible, using the French uniform as a pillow.
She had become accustomed to sleeping lightly, and his efforts to creep from the room just before dawn woke her. She sat up immediately, pulled on her boots, and followed him. ‘Did you think you could leave me behind?’ she queried. ‘It was not very galant of you.’
‘Don Santandos will not let you go,’ he said, striding along the dark corridors as if he had the eyes of a cat. ‘I mean to travel fast.’
‘I can out-ride you any day.’
He laughed. ‘Boasting again, Olivia? Do you know, in ancient Rome, boasting which could not be substantiated was considered a crime?’
‘Don’t change the subject. Yesterday, before we came here, you wanted me to go with you; you almost begged me to help you.’
‘Begged, Olivia? I never beg.’
‘Asked me, then. What has changed your mind?’
They came out of the corridor into the huge room where they had dined the evening before. No one had cleared the table; it was still covered with half-eaten food, half-filled wine glasses, chicken bones, empty bottles. Don Santandos was already there. He had swept aside the debris at the end of the table in order to spread out a map. He folded it up when he saw them and beckoned them over.
‘Good morning, Captain.’ Then to Olivia, ‘Good morning, Mrs Lynmount. Have you come to bid your husband a fond farewell?’
‘No, I go too.’
He turned to Robert. ‘What do you say, my friend? Will she be an asset or a liability?’
Robert laughed. ‘The question is, will she be more of a hindrance to you? Her presence might very well cause dissension among the men, especially as you have no women in your party at all.’
‘You think I cannot control my own followers?’ he demanded. ‘Why should I even try?’
‘You gave your word, Don Santandos, as I have given mine.’
‘So I did.’ He laughed. ‘What she needs is a duenna.’
‘Certainly not!’ Olivia snapped, painting a mental picture of a huge Spanish woman set to guard her against the men and watch her every move. She would never have a moment to herself, nor be able to escape.
‘I fear she would be a handful even then,’ Robert said mildly. ‘Let her come; I will take responsibility for her.’
‘I wish you would not talk about me as if I were baggage,’ Olivia put in angrily. ‘I have something to say in what happens to me; I am not an inanimate object.’
They both turned to look at her and then simultaneously burst into laughter. ‘Oh, my darling,’ Robert said. ‘I love you even more when you are angry.’
His declaration silenced her. It had slipped so easily from his tongue. Was that because he was practised at lulling women with words of love, or because it was true? She stopped her errant thoughts instantly. They were both acting out a charade and the reality was very different. At this particular moment, they were useful to each other, and hers was the greater need.
‘I do not envy you, Captain,’ Don Santandos said. ‘I think I would rather face a regiment of Boney’s crack troops than be married to such a one. Take her. Take her and I wish you joy of her.’ He smiled and turned to Olivia. ‘We fetched the mule. You will find your bundle in the doorway over there and water to wash in your room. Go and make your preparations.’
Olivia was reluctant to obey in case Robert still tried to leave without her, but, as usual, he seemed able to read her thoughts; he reached out and touched her arm. ‘I will wait here for you, my dear. Make haste.’
As she left, Don Santandos opened the map again. When she returned, refreshed and, once again, dressed in her own skirt and blouse, they were still deep in discussion. Seeing her, Don Santandos smiled and folded up the map and the two men went out to the courtyard with Olivia silently following, every nerve tense in case they should, even now, try to leave her behind. A small escort party was assembled in the courtyard where Robert’s horse stood ready saddled and beside it a grey which was almost as big. It was a beautiful mount, better than any Philippe had had.
‘I am afraid we have no side-saddle, Mrs Lynmount,’ Don Santandos said.
Robert laughed. ‘My wife is accustomed to riding astride. She has been doing it ever since she was old enough to sit a pony.’
Olivia opened her mouth to ask him how he knew that, but bit her tongue instead and went over to the horse’s head to make its acquaintance, stroking its nose and fondling its ears. ‘You are a beauty,’ she said, then to Don Santandos, ‘What is he called?’
‘Pegasus.’
She laughed and, in one swift movement, leapt into the saddle. ‘The winged horse. I like it.’ The animal was restive, but she controlled it easily. ‘How are we going to explain the horses when we arrive in Ciudad Rodrigo?’
‘You will not have them then. Remember you have escaped a hanging. You will arrive footsore and bedraggled.’
‘Oh.’ She was crestfallen, but she could see the sense of that. ‘Shall we make a start?’
She did not notice one of the escort ride up alongside her until he threw a bag over her head and held it down as she struggled. ‘Be still, Mrs Lynmount,’ Don Santandos said mildly. ‘It is only until you are down the mountain.’
‘But I cannot see where I am going.’
‘Your husband will lead you.’
She assumed from this that Robert was not to be blindfolded and it made her wonder once again what he had said to the partisan leader to make such a change in their relationship. Either they now trusted each other or each was playing a game of deception, a kind of double bluff. And she was in the middle of it.
The reins were taken from her hands and the horse moved forward. It was uncomfortable and unnerving not to be able to see, but Pegasus seemed sure-footed enough; all she had to do was keep her seat. At first she was aware that they were on a reasonably smooth road and then that they had branched off and were moving very sharply downhill. She could hear the river not far away and the scuffing of hoofs on the uneven ground. She tried counting the sounds as they moved over a particular piece of stony ground, one horse, then another, then another. There was a rider ahead of Robert, who was leading Pegasus, and there were several more, perhaps as many as four, following her. And the path must be narrow for them to be riding single file. There seemed to be no hope of galloping off alone and escaping — not yet. At some point, the guerrilleros would have to leave her and Robert to finish the journey alone; then she would try her luck.
She tried to gauge their direction by the feel of the sun on her back and the sound of the river, and guessed they were making their way down the mountain on the opposite side of the gorge from the one she and Robert had taken two days before. If that was so, before long they would arrive at the village where the bridge had been blown. And not too far from that was the main road into Portugal. She would be patient.
Her guess had been right. When the sun was at its highest, they reached the valley floor, and here they sweltered, particularly Olivia, muffled as she was by the bag over her head. She cried out to be released.
‘Let her out,’ she heard Robert say to someone. ‘If you do not, she will faint and fall off.’
She heard Don Santandos laugh and say, ‘I had forgotten her.’ The bag came off her head and she drew in great gulps of air before looking about her.
They were riding down the main street of the village she had seen from the other side of the river. There were women at the doors of their homes and children playing in the street, but few men. Husbands, sons and fathers, she guessed, were with the partisans in the hills. They stopped at the door of a house next to the church and a thin, agile-looking priest came hurrying out of the house and shook the guerrilla leader by the hand. ‘Welcome, Miguel, my old friend.’ He eyed Robert and Olivia as he spoke, unsure whether they were friend or foe, especially as Robert was wearing the French uniform. ‘Prisoners?’ he queried.
‘Yes and no, Father Peredo. They have a role to play and I need you to make sure they play it well. This is Captain Robert Lynmount and his lady wife. Their story is an interesting one.’
The priest, who could have been no more than forty, smiled and held out his hand to help Olivia dismount. ‘Señora, you are welcome to Villa de Fuentes. Come inside and take some refreshment. We have been all but cleaned out again by the bluecoats, but they do not know all our hiding places.’ He chuckled and led the way into his house. It was sparsely furnished but gloriously cool. ‘Sit down, please.’
‘Where are the French?’ Robert asked him as they obeyed.
‘In Ciudad Rodrigo, but likely to move out at any time.’ He laughed again and clicked his fingers at a servant girl and ordered food and wine to be brought, before continuing. ‘They have been held up, as usual, for lack of supplies. It seems the countryside is much poorer than they had been led to believe. And they are maddened by the blowing of the bridge.’
‘Good,’ Don Santandos said, making himself at home in the priest’s most comfortable chair. ‘We have plans for delaying them further, but they depend on the Englishman here.’
‘He has been wounded?’
‘He has been hanged. He is a thief. He is also a deserter.’
‘And you trust him?’ The little priest sounded astonished.
‘There are deserters from both sides hiding in the hills,’ Don Santandos said mildly. ‘Buzzing gnats, who are no more than a nuisance, but if one of them has a compelling reason for wanting to help us, why should we turn him down? But you must watch him.’
‘I, play nursemaid?’
‘You are allowed to come and go freely among the French soldiers but, you must admit, they do not altogether trust you. We need another string to our bow.’
The priest laughed. ‘It is as well they cannot see all I do. But what is the Englishman going to do?’
‘The señora came out of Ciudad Rodrigo with a French officer; she will return with one.’ He laughed. ‘Slightly the worse for wear.’
‘I see.’
‘I want you to make sure they stay with the French until they find out when the army is marching and in which direction.’
‘Supposing we cannot find that out?’ Olivia asked. ‘Supposing someone discovers we are impostors?’
‘You had better pray that does not happen,’ Miguel Santandos said, as the servant arrived with the food. It was simple but substantial and they were all silent while they ate, each busy with his or her own thoughts. Olivia was beginning to wonder what she had allowed herself to be drawn into; every word Don Santandos uttered seemed to be loaded with menace and the opportunity to escape was looking less and less possible.
Half an hour later, Don Santandos rose to go. ‘I will bid you goodbye, Captain,’ he said to Robert. ‘Leave the horses here — the padre knows where to hide them. If you return alive with the information we seek, then you are welcome to keep them as a recompense for your services.’ He smiled ruefully, as if reluctant to admit a weakness. ‘The black is useless to us in any case — he would not let anyone else near him; one of my men has a lump the size of a hen’s egg on his shin.’
Robert grinned at Olivia with a look that said clearly, Did I not tell you so?
Don Santandos turned from them and knelt at the feet of the priest. ‘Bless me, Father, before I go.’
‘Do you not go to see your wife?’ the priest asked, making the sign of the cross over the supplicant’s bent head.
‘No. Each time I do, it is worse. When the enemy is defeated, then I will go home.’ He rose and shook Robert by the hand. ‘Good luck, my friend. We shall be on the look-out for you.’ He turned to Olivia and grinned. ‘Goodbye, my valiant señora.’ Then he left the room, followed by the rest of his men, leaving Robert and Olivia facing the priest.
‘I will show you the road,’ he said.
They followed him from the house and he stood in the road with the wind blowing his skirts about his legs and pointed towards the east. ‘A mile or so along the road you will find a shrine, behind which is a narrow path. It will take you across country and bring you out on the road again two miles short of the town. But be careful, the bluecoats are everywhere. Do not speak English. You, Captain, would do well not to speak at all. Are you armed?’
‘No. The guerrilleros would not have been so careless as to leave weapons where we could take them.’
The priest’s face creased in a smile and he took Olivia’s hand. ‘God bless you, child. May the good Virgin reward your courage with a long life and fine sons.’ He turned to Robert. ‘Look after her, Captain, and may the Lord shine on your endeavours and bring us victory.’
They bade him goodbye and set off down the road on foot, striding side by side, until they were out of sight.
‘Now what?’ she demanded when they had been walking in silence for half an hour.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Are you still going to Ciudad Rodrigo? Are you determined to put your head in another noose? Because if you are, let me tell you I shall not be there to shoot you down a second time.’
‘If you could do it again.’
‘Of course I could. If I had a gun…’
He laughed. ‘Do you know, I am rather glad you do not? I should feel decidedly unsafe.’
‘If I had wanted to shoot you, I would have done so when I had the chance.’
‘Instead you saved me,’ he said softly. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘I was angry, I told you. They had hanged one husband; I…’ She stopped suddenly. Whatever was she saying? ‘It seemed the only thing to do. And you had stolen the mule for me.’
‘You did not know that at the time.’
‘No.’
He turned to look at her. There was a purpose and lightness in her stride which suggested she could keep walking all day — not a bit like Juana, who was so delicate he was almost afraid to touch her, lest she shatter. Juana would have demanded a carriage and a trunk full of clothes before she went anywhere at all. He smiled suddenly. Juana would never have allowed herself to get into this kind of situation in the first place. Olivia looked just as delicate with her finely chiselled features and slim frame, but her appearance was obviously deceptive. Had she always been so sturdily independent, he wondered, or had she learned it in the hard school of an army marriage?
‘Who taught you to shoot?’ he asked. ‘Was it your first husband?’
She smiled. ‘No, Tom never felt comfortable with a gun, even though his father worked for my father. Papa manufactures arms, you see. When I was quite small I used to go out with Papa testing new weapons, and that’s when I learned to shoot.’
‘What did your mother say to that? Surely she did not approve?’
‘I never knew my mother. Papa is all I had.’ Her light laugh was a little unnatural. I think he was disappointed I was not a boy.’
‘I am sorry,’ he said softly, resisting the impulse to take her arm.
She shrugged. ‘Don’t be. I had a wonderful childhood.’
‘But growing up was painful, eh?’
She looked up at him sharply. Did he really understand or was he just making polite conversation? ‘It was precarious to say the least, but done with now. All I want is to go back home and be with my father again.’
‘Instead you are tramping towards an enemy-held town with a man you do not trust, in a cause you do not support…’
‘Who said I did not support it?’ she demanded. ‘Just because I think you are mad, it does not mean I do not want us to win this war. But it is for armies to win battles, not lone men and women.’
‘Armies are made up of lone men, each doing his duty as he sees it.’
‘But you have no duty; you have been discharged. Why were you turned out, by the way?’
‘You heard Don Santandos. I am a thief.’
He watched her carefully for signs of shock or outrage, but there was nothing to see but clear green eyes in a countenance which smiled more often than it frowned. Why was she always so damned cheerful? She had nothing to be cheerful about.
They turned off at the shrine as they had been directed and walked along a narrow path which ran through a cherry orchard, although most of its trees had been stripped of their fruit, probably by a hungry soldiery. There were bee skips among the trees which reminded him forcefully of the aftermath of the summer battles the year before; honey was a favourite with the troops and they risked being stung to loot it. He shook himself; he did not want to be reminded of looting in any shape or form. He forced himself to think ahead, to plan what he would do once he was in Ciudad Rodrigo. It would not be easy, but with Olivia…
‘Robert!’ She had walked ahead of him and was standing at the edge of the orchard, pointing. ‘Look!’
He hurried to join her. ‘Don’t you know better than to stand so openly? Has the army taught you nothing?’
‘Look,’ she said, ignoring his criticism. ‘There are English soldiers down there. What are they doing so far from their lines?’
‘Reconnaissance,’ he said. ‘Making maps, by the look of it.’
‘Shall we go down and meet them?’
‘No!’ He spoke sharply. ‘I am Captain Philippe Santerre, don’t forget. You may go if you wish.’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘You mean you would not try to stop me?’
‘I am not a man to hold a woman against her will.’
‘Very well. If I am no longer needed, I will go.’
He did not answer and she set off slowly, half expecting him to call her back, but when he did not she began to run. The soldiers were moving cautiously between the trees, watching the road which led into the town, but they did not seem to be concerned with watching their backs and had not yet seen her. I’d have them flogged for carelessness if they were my men, he thought, and then smiled wryly, thinking of the court-martial which had ended his right to command anyone and put him in a situation where he was so dependent on a woman.
In less than a minute, if they did not turn and see her, she would be able to hail them and then all his carefully laid plans would be thrown to the winds. But he did not care; he had no right to force her into going with him. If she died as a result of his foolhardiness, he would never forgive himself. Let her go back to her gun-making papa. Let her try to recapture her childhood. Let her be happy. He wanted her to be happy.
Suddenly she stopped her mad dash and stepped behind a tree. Puzzled, he watched as the column carried on, moving from the trees to the cover of rocks and then on until they were out of sight over the hill behind them; Olivia had not moved. The air seemed very still and Robert realised he had been holding his breath. He let it out slowly and walked to join her. They stood for a long moment facing each other, hazel eyes looking down into defiant green ones. The silence seemed to extend itself to the air around them as they sized each other up, each trying to guess the other’s thoughts and decide how to deal with this new turn in their relationship.
‘Isn’t that just like a woman?’ he said at last, trying to keep his voice light. ‘Can’t keep to the same mind for more than two minutes together. Now what are you proposing to do?’
She laughed. ‘I think I shall just go on tormenting you.’ She was a fool, she told herself. She had thrown away a golden opportunity, but she could not leave him to do what he had set out to do without her help. England would have to wait until his business was finished and he was free to keep his word to take her home. ‘I think we ought to speak French from now on,’ she said. ‘And you had better begin looking as though you were in pain and lean on me a little.’
He didn’t like the idea of having to lean on anyone, much less a woman, but he recognised the wisdom of what she said. He put an arm on her shoulder, trying not to lean too heavily, and together they hobbled towards the town whose walls were now clearly visible. For the first time in months, he began to feel that all was not lost; in fact, he was feeling decidedly optimistic.