An Untrustworthy Army

by Lynn Bryant

  He saw understanding flare in the intelligent blue eyes. Roche nodded and set his empty mess tin down, reaching for his pencil. He worked silently and Paul watched the drawing take form. He had never possessed any artistic talent beyond sketching a rough map and he was surprised at how much enjoyment it gave him to watch Roche work. When the drawing was done, Roche hesitated and looked at Paul. Paul understood; many of the Spanish had pistols and might fire if they saw a French prisoner approach one of them, thinking he planned some kind of attack.

  Paul raised his voice and called over in Spanish. The guards looked at him and Paul beckoned. The man rose and came forward, saluting. Paul indicated the drawing which Roche was holding out. The Spaniard took it and stared at it in complete astonishment then looked up at Roche, pantomiming a question. Roche smiled and indicated the empty mess tin.

  "Gracias, Señor," he said.

  Suddenly the Spaniard gave a broad grin. He called to his companion who approached to study the sketch. Several others joined them, and they were talking, laughing, gesturing. Paul picked up the empty mess tins and passed them to Jenson, moving away from the voluble group. Roche clearly spoke some Spanish, probably picked up from his time in Madrid. He was answering questions and then Paul saw him reach for his pencil and begin to draw another of the men.

  "That was a very good idea, sir," Jenson said, quietly, returning with the clean tins.

  "I hope so. It's a lot harder to slaughter men whose names you know," Paul said. "With this and young Browne's masterly speech, I think they'll get to the coast in one piece."

  "Just hope the transport board doesn't kill them on some pest-ridden prison hulk after that; be a shame after all this," Jenson said. "I just spoke with the lassie with the apples, sir. She's happy for you to bed down in their cottage for the night."

  "Thank you, Jenson. I think I might stay out here. But if the lass can find somewhere secure for the horses, I'll pay her for stabling."

  Jenson laughed aloud. "You're just trying to find a way to give her some money for those children without making it look like charity," he said. "I'll sort it out and I'll stay with them. Can't imagine a horse thief will come this close to a guerrilla corps and two British officers, but better to be sure. Maybe she can provide us with breakfast which you can pay too much for."

  "Oh piss off, you Liverpool know-it-all, you've been with me far too long," Paul said, and Jenson laughed and left.

  ***

  Lord Wellington remained in Madrid for three weeks, staying in the palace which had been recently vacated by Joseph Bonaparte, with the rest of headquarters billets close by. Wellington was frantically seeking intelligence about the movement of the various French armies as he made plans for his next move and supervised, in surprising detail, the re-equipping of his battered forces.

  Wellington was taking the opportunity to get to know the Spanish generals and guerrilla commandants, and hosted enormous dinners on a regular basis, along with his staff and officers from some of the other regiments in rotation. He also gave several formal balls to the delight of the officers of the third brigade, who unhesitatingly took the opportunity to dance and flirt with the local beauties. The grandees of Madrid were keen to reciprocate this hospitality and Wellington's officers found themselves with a choice of several receptions, dinners and dances every evening.The wealthier people of the city had weathered the French occupation well enough and many of the shops and merchant houses seemed surprisingly prosperous although condition of the poorer people horrified Anne.

  The markets seemed to have no shortage of fresh food and taverns and inns were open and welcoming although prices were very high, with no concessions given to the heroes of Wellington's army and both officers and men of Paul's brigade mostly chose to eat and drink in the mess unless they were invited to dinner.

  Discipline was relaxed for a few weeks and the men were allowed to leave their camp or billet, with a pass, to sample the delights of the city. Brothels were doing a roaring trade and Dr Oliver Daniels had informed Anne gloomily that he was expecting an upsurge of men suffering from signs of the pox. He had made the remark at dinner, and it had inadvertently fallen into a stunned silence, leaving Daniels stammering his apologies and Anne with tears of laughter in her eyes.

  When she was not at the hospital or busy with administrative work, Anne found herself in considerable demand as an unofficial headquarters hostess, as Wellington entertained the local Spanish dignitaries and officers. Anne accompanied Wellington's party to the theatre one evening, sitting beside him in his box although Paul had politely declined the invitation. Despite his complaints Anne knew that her husband enjoyed seeing her act as Wellington's hostess. She had begun to take Juana Smith out with her a good deal. Captain Smith's wife was good company, an odd combination of sharp wits and childlike enthusiasm.

  Their billets in the Marina Palace afforded a level of luxury which Anne had not known for many years. Throughout Portugal and then Spain she had slept in every kind of accommodation including convents and abbeys, the university buildings in Salamanca, farmhouses and cottages and often in barns, sheds and tents if nothing else was available. Life in the army had given Anne the ability to adapt quickly to almost any surroundings and her cheerful acceptance of difficult conditions set the tone for the officers of the brigade, who took the view that if Mrs van Daan did not complain they had no right to do so.

  Madrid was a beautiful city. The streets were wide and surprisingly clean and the men of Wellington's army strolled along graceful avenues shaded by wide-spreading trees and cooled by elegant fountains. There were museums and galleries and theatres which seemed to have thrived under Joseph's rule and for a time the war felt very distant.

  The officers were invited to a bullfight given in their honour, and Paul declined firmly but politely on behalf of Anne. Some of the officers attended and proclaimed themselves sickened by the spectacle and Anne was glad she had not been persuaded. She did attend several shooting parties in the local parks and countryside and enjoyed the surprise on the faces of both Spanish and English officers as Captain O'Reilly of the 112th brought down the highest number of birds without appearing to concentrate very much at all.

  Standing with Lord Wellington's staff, Anne watched Michael lower his gun. The young Dutch prince William was applauding enthusiastically.

  "Bravo, Captain. Very impressive."

  "The Irish like their shooting," Ensign Beaumaris said. "Big country estates and not enough to do. Not sure what O'Reilly's background is, but he's very good, isn't he?"

  "I think his men taught him," Major Swanson said pleasantly, and Anne suppressed a laugh. Two years ago the promotion of Paul's Irish sergeant from the ranks had been the source of gossip and some resentment in the army but it was so little talked of now, that newcomers like Prince William and Beaumaris did not even realise that he had not always held a commission.

  "Where is Lord Wellington today?" she asked. "It is unlike him to miss a sporting event."

  "I believe he is sitting for his portrait, ma'am," Prince William said. "The artist - Goya you know - wishes to have it finished before Lord Wellington marches out, and it is hard to persuade him..."

  "I would have thought it impossible," Anne said with a laugh. "He's almost as fidgety as the colonel."

  "It is to be his last sitting I believe. I have spoken to your husband ma'am and suggested that he talk to Goya about painting you. A lady of your beauty..."

  Anne smiled. "You're flirting with me, your Highness."

  "I am speaking only the truth, ma'am."

  O'Reilly and Manson were approaching, laughing. "Are you going to try a few shots yourself, ma'am?" O'Reilly asked. "I'd be happy to teach you."

  "I don't think so, Michael, I'd be embarrassed beside your skill. Even Captain Manson cannot match you although he's very good."

  "It makes up for all the times that he's humiliated me at swordplay," O'Reilly said, bowing to the prince. "You did very well yourself earlier, mind, sir.
"

  "Nothing to you, Captain. Do you not shoot, ma'am?"

  "I'm afraid not, sir."

  "The colonel doesn't encourage her, sir," Manson said. He was on good terms with Prince William who was a cheerful boy a year or so younger than him. "He says that for the morale of his officers there needs to be something in the army that they can do better than she can."

  There was a shout of laughter. Their host was calling them and Manson led the way over to the bearers. Anne watched them go, smiling.

  "And where is the colonel today, Señora?" a voice said beside her. "Do not tell me that he also sits for a portrait?"

  "No," Anne said, turning to survey the elegant dark features of Don Carlos Santos. She had not met him until her arrival in Madrid. He was a compatriot of Julian Sanchez and Pablo Cuesta, leading a band of guerrillas who had made the lives of the French very miserable in the east for the past year. Anne's beauty along with her fluent command of their language made her very popular with the Spanish leaders and she knew that Lord Wellington liked her to charm them. She found them a picturesque collection from a variety of backgrounds, and she knew that Paul had been right when he had remarked that some of them were little more than brigands who would steal from their own people or the English if the French were no longer around. It was difficult to judge them. In the chaos of Spain during the past five years the rule of law had completely broken down in many places. Atrocities were committed on both sides and ordinary people were often trapped between the warring armies. The English were generally better behaved than the French but there were too many incidents of pillaging and looting and there had been one or two spectacular breakdowns in discipline of which the violence and sacking of Badajoz earlier in the year had been the worst.

  "The colonel is meeting with his the town council to discuss billeting for our men," Anne said pleasantly. It was as good a way as any to describe Paul's fury when he had been told that his men's orderly camp site at the edge of the ancient hunting preserves was not acceptable to the Spanish authorities. Anne had offered to attend the meeting with him, and his curt refusal had warned her that he intended to be very specific about his requirements for alternative accommodation in a way that precluded her presence.

  Anne had smiled and left him to it, hoping that he did not hit anybody. She was confident that he would prevail. Paul had a habit of intervening personally in the administration of his brigade. When Anne had first come to Portugal, he was newly in command of a full battalion and struggled to delegate to a quartermaster or clerk. He had allowed Anne to take over some of the administrative duties which were weighing him down, partly because her ability to do so fascinated him in a nineteen year old girl and partly, she knew, because it was an excuse to keep her beside him when they were both married to other people. Since then he had learned to let go of some of the detail to people he trusted and Major Breakspear had been with him for several years, as had Captain Fallon. Despite that, he had an awareness of what was going on in his regiment and his brigade which was extraordinary in a man at his level of command and even Anne, who was used to him, was often surprised when he suddenly stepped in to deal with a problem or situation which nobody else had even been aware of.

  His enlisted men, largely the products of poverty and vice and the criminal justice system, adored him for it, understanding that for him, their welfare was paramount. He had managed to provide tents for every man in his regiment and then his brigade, a practical necessity which Lord Wellington was now beginning to introduce to the rest of his army. He chased up their pay, their new uniforms and their equipment with ruthless thoroughness which kept his quartermasters permanently on their toes, and it was well known that occasionally, such as during the retreat from Talavera, he had used his personal fortune to pay for wagons and pack animals to transport the wounded from his battalion back to Lisbon rather than leave them to a French prison camp. His men were fiercely proud of their unconventional young colonel and gave him in return a passionate loyalty which was unparalleled in Wellington's army.

  "It is good that he trusts his officers to take care of you, Señora," Santos said. "Had I a wife as young and lovely as you I think I would be more careful with her around other men."

  Anne blinked in astonishment and turned to stare at the man. "Would you, Señor? I rather imagine that would depend on your choice of either officers or wives. Fortunately I am married to a man who trusts me implicitly. I hope that when you decide to marry you are equally fortunate in your choice."

  Anne turned away and walked to join the other officers, a little shocked at the Spaniard's open rudeness. She supposed that he was a traditional man who disapproved of her easy friendship with her husband's officers but she was surprised at his readiness to express it so freely.

  As she joined the others, there was a hail and Anne shaded her eyes to see her husband riding through the coverts with Jenson beside him. She went to greet him and he dismounted and bent to kiss her.

  "Have you settled it?" she asked.

  "Yes. I've sent orders over to Sergeant-Major Carter to get the camp packed up. We've been allocated space in the military college about a mile from the Marina Palace. It's enormous; quite a few purpose built barracks blocks as well as the college itself. There are also a lot of stable blocks and staff quarters."

  "And are they empty?"

  "They are. Joseph was using them for his household guard but they've gone with him. Sanchez had planned to use them for his guerrillas but I've told him he'll never get them out of the town brothels anyway so no point."

  "And how did Don Julian take this?"

  "We didn't really have much of a conversation about it, girl of my heart. I got a bit cross to tell you the truth, I think Sanchez was just glad to get me out of there before I punched the town council representatives in the face. Stupid bastards."

  "Well it sounds an improvement if the weather changes. Are you intending to stay and shoot? If not I think I'll ride back with you, I'm a little tired."

  "A rare admission, girl of my heart. Let's go back and take a siesta. I can't promise you'll sleep much but you will relax."

  "I'd love to. This is the most comfortable bed I've slept in since we left the villa, it's tempting never to get out of it."

  "As long as I'm invited to share it with you I can see no objection to that," her husband said. "Wait, I'll grab Manson to make our apologies. He seems very tight with Slender Billy these days; I wonder if he knows his tendencies?"

  Anne laughed aloud. "He does," she said. "As a matter of fact he intervened on behalf of Ensign Johnson a few days ago. He'd received an invitation to dine from the Prince and was unsure what to do about it. It seemed like a very exclusive party. Captain Manson advised him to decline, citing an appointment with a lady as the reason."

  Paul laughed. "Very diplomatic, I take my hat off to Manson."

  "I like Prince William," Anne said. "He's charming."

  "So do I. He's not that bright, but then neither are half the officers in our army. But he'll get a decent military training with Wellington and he's keen and willing to learn. And I don't honestly care what he chooses to do in bed, although somebody should tell him to be a bit more discreet about it, half the army is already gossiping."

  "Well they will. Most of them aren't as tolerant as you, love."

  "I'm just not interested," Paul said frankly. "Wait here. If you go back over there they'll be on at you to stay for the picnic and now that you've suggested it, an afternoon in bed sounds like an excellent idea."

  Anne watched as Paul went to speak to Manson and their host. She had discovered the gossip about the young Dutch prince quite recently and entirely by accident, having overheard two officers of the guards laughing about it during a hunting party. Anne had retreated before the officers had realised she was within earshot, her face very warm. She had understood the gist of their comments about Prince William's sexual preferences, but she realised that she had discovered a gap in her education and had taken
her questions to Paul as they were lying in bed sharing a glass of wine one night after making love. Her husband had spluttered wine over the sheet.

  "What a question to ask me at a time like this," he had said, as Anne mopped up the stains and refilled the glass.

  "Well I couldn't really raise it over dinner," Anne pointed out.

  "A fair point, I suppose."

  "Did you know?" Anne asked. "About Prince William?"

  "Yes," Paul admitted, studying her. "Most of the army knows the rumours. His Highness arrived last year with a very pretty valet, whom I understand Wellington quietly sent packing."

  "I'm surprised," Anne said. "He's an accomplished flirt and it feels real."

  "It probably is," Paul said. "I have heard that the prince is as likely to be chasing a pretty girl as a pretty boy."

  "Goodness, how confusing." Anne reached for the wine glass and sipped. "Does it bother you, Paul?"

  "You mean because of what happened to me when I was a boy in the navy?"

  "I suppose I do."

  "No. I might find His Highness's proclivities a little odd, but I can't imagine him attacking either a boy or a girl; whatever he gets up to is entirely consensual. I don't consider it his business what I do with you in bed so why should his love life concern me? Does it make you feel uncomfortable, Nan?"

  Anne had thought about it. "No, you're right," she said. "It's ridiculous that people are such busybodies. I shall not think of it again."

  Paul returned to join her with Captain O'Reilly beside him. "Michael is riding back with us, it appears he has an invitation to dine in the city."

  "Do you, Michael? Who is she?" Anne said with immense cordiality. The Irishman pulled a hideous face.