He questioned, “Mercedes?” and it came out as a croak. Water was being trickled between his lips and he sucked greedily, feeling soft hair brushing his face when she leaned over him, soothing him like a child. “Hush there my darling, it’s all right now. Just a bad dream, but ‘tis gone now. Lie still my dearest, there’s no cause for alarm.”
His eyes were now accustomed to the weak light and he gazed at her dim form. She had let her hair down and it was still brushing his face when she leaned over him. The rest of her was wrapped in her thick cloak or a blanket, and when he lifted his free hand to touch her, he found that she had removed her uniform tunic and was wearing only a soft shirt under the cloak.
He would have liked to explore further, but waves of fatigue swept over him and his eyelids drooped once more. There was a delightful feeling of his hand being pressed to her breast and soft lips against his own, before he was sleeping like a baby with no more pain.
He woke to daylight and the smell of cooking. He was alone in the bivouac, but not for long. Isabella poked her head in and called for the Condesa, who came hurrying over with a bowl of broth of some sort. She was dressed once more in full uniform and knelt to help him sit up, arranging him so that he leaned against her, while Isabella prepared to spoon the broth into his mouth.
Easing his neck and flexing his muscles, he found that most of the agonising pain had gone away. Everything throbbed and would no doubt continue to do so for a long time to come. Any attempt to move the fingers of his left hand was excruciating, but he was enormously grateful that he could move them at all.
He relaxed against Mercedes and reached out for the bowl. “Don’t, under any circumstances, ladies, get the impression that I am not enjoying all this attention. The Ottoman Sultan himself cannot be spoiled to the same extent, but I think I can manage to feed myself, if one of yew will just hold the bowl for me.”
The Condesa reached for the bowl. Welbeloved grasped the spoon. Isabella giggled and backed out of the shelter, leaving him sitting, leaning against the kneeling Condesa, who placed the bowl on the ground, took the spoon from his hand and kissed him gently, but very, very thoroughly.
Afterwards, as she still supported him in her arms, he murmured teasingly. “It seems to me, Madam, that if yew are determined to be so shameless as to take such advantage of a wounded and starving man, the least yew can do is to make an honest man out of me.”
For answer, she kissed him again, then. “If that is a proposal, sir, I shall kidnap the first priest we see, and if you think this is shameless, just wait until that priest has performed his duty and has earned his release. Oh Joshua! I want you so much!”
Her face was crimson as she picked up the bowl and thrust the spoon into his hand. “Eat every mouthful, my love. You’ve got a long ride ahead of you, and I would not have it said that my future husband is too weak to ride his horse.”
He spooned the last of the broth and looked at her seriously. “I will do my best to ensure that no-one can say that of me.” His expression became innocent and he grinned wickedly, “at least, not until after our wedding.”
Her cheeks were still burning when she left him to look for his servant to shave him. They fussed around him, checking his dressings and helping him into the saddle. He growled at them and told them not to make such a to-do, but was grateful for their aid when he realised he was having the greatest difficulty controlling his legs.
The Condesa hovered around during all this attention, as anxious as a mother hen. Even the unobservant Vere watched her with something akin to amazement. In an aside to MacKay, he commented. “I’ll never understand women, Sergeant. The Condesa there seems to spend half her time trying to provoke the Captain, and now she’s treating him as if he’s the most precious thing since the crown jewels.”
MacKay looked at him with an expression that would have had him arrested for insubordination in any line regiment. “Aye sir, I’ve heard tell that such symptoms are not uncommon in advanced cases of the disease.” Vere looked at him suspiciously but he continued unperturbed. “I also ken ‘tis highly contagious, particularly when contact is mouth to mouth. I’ll warrant you, they’re both infected and ‘tis impossible the curing of it.”
Vere stared at the subjects of MacKay’s philosophy and his face lit up with pleasure. He turned back to MacKay. “You great Caledonian Cupid you! I’ll be damned if you haven’t the truth of it. I wonder when that happened?”
The Scot’s face had a superior expression. “You were present when the Captain first met the Condesa , weren’t you sir? That was when he caught the disease. It was well rooted by the time we collected her in Madrid, but I don’t think she caught it until we rescued her from the French. Powerful charm on the female of the species, sir, rescuing the damsel in distress. All the best sagas have them.”
“You’re too young, Sergeant, and your rank isn’t high enough to be as cynical as that.” Vere grinned as he mounted his horse. MacKay looked hurt, but it was noticeable that he rode close beside Welbeloved when they started off. The Condesa, naturally, was on the other side.
Even walking the horse was agonising for Welbeloved after a while. The sabre slashes were not the problem. They throbbed away with a dull, nagging ache, but he had been wounded several times before and he knew what to expect. He also knew how to cope with it. The blow on the skull, which apparently had been an accidental kick from Roussillon’s horse, was much more difficult to contend with. Within a very short time, the jolting of the horse set up a blinding pain in his head.
He gritted his teeth and carried on, but an hour later Vere called a halt when MacKay caught him as he finally swayed and started to fall out of his saddle. A short rest improved matters, but a mile farther on the same thing happened. In spite of his protests, a litter was lashed together from pliant staves cut from riverside trees. Once installed in the litter, the natural springiness of the wood damped out much of the jolting of the beasts, and he dozed fitfully for the rest of the day’s ride.
Thereafter he had the briefest of memories. There was a period when he recalled shouting and swearing at people who would not hear him or do as he ordered. There were periods when he was swaying, as if in a hammock, when he vaguely realised he was being carried in the litter again. Mostly though, he had no rational thoughts at all. Vague forms swelled and shrank and the voices of his dead wife and child, which changed into that of Mercedes, and then, unaccountably became the tones of colleagues and friends from his past. Eventually, there was just darkness and he was moving gently, but with a feeling of complete safety and security.
***
He opened his eyes and studied the deck beams overhead. They were unfamiliar, but he was on board a ship at anchor. The movement was so slight that the sea was either dead calm or they were in the sheltered waters of a bay or a harbour. The cabin was a large one; it had to belong to a line-of-battle ship. It was most confusing, but it was so comfortable, lying warm in this cot.
He turned his head. God! It was an effort. Why was he so weak? He vaguely felt that he had been fighting and there was a sharp memory of a flashing sabre cutting into his arm. But that was only a scratch, wasn’t it?
The movement of his neck had attracted attention. Someone was sitting at his head, and there was a low exclamation and a cool hand pressed on his forehead. “Joshua?” The voice was tentative, not really daring to believe. “Joshua, my dear, can you hear me?”
It was Mercedes. Now why on earth shouldn’t he be able to hear her? And why on earth should he not be able to tell her so? His voice was a whispered croak and he tried to sit up. At once her hands were on his shoulders, supporting his efforts; but he hadn’t the strength and sank back, closing his eyes.
He heard her giving rapid orders to Isabella and then her arm was behind his head, holding it steady while she held a cup to his lips and he drank and drank. It was only water, but it tasted better than the best wine that he could ever remember. It moistened his throat and he found he could speak softly
. “What is wrong with me and where am I?”
“Hush my love, don’t try and overtax yourself. We’re on board a big British ship in the harbour of La Coruña, and the Captain says he’s a friend of yours. He’ll be here in a minute. But lie back again, you’ve had an awful fever and I’ve been so worried.” She pressed him back on his pillow and kissed his cheek.
The cabin door opened and a tall figure in the uniform of a senior captain of the Royal Navy limped quickly over to the cot, glancing enquiringly at the Condesa as he came. “Is he awake, My Lady?” he transferred his attention to Welbeloved, shaking his head but obviously satisfied. “I don’t know Joshua. I take my eye off you for only a few months and the next thing I know, you’re being hauled aboard more dead than alive after gallivanting all over Spain in the company of the oddest collection of scarecrows I’ve ever seen in my life.” He grinned at Mercedes. “Present company excepted, of course, Madam.”
Welbeloved reached out weakly and clasped his hand. “Charles, old friend, yew have a knack of turning up when least expected. I heard they were giving yew a third-rate. Is this the monster we’re in now?”
“The very same, Josh. The Titan Seventy-four. She’s not as young as she used to be, but still sound and quite lively for a two-decker.” His voice became wistful. “They let me keep most of our old crew, but it’s not the same without you to make life difficult for me.” He turned to the Condesa. “We served together, Your Ladyship, as friends, ever since the battle at Aboukir Bay in ninety-eight.” He shrugged and smiled. “They were good times.”
There was a salvo of cannon fire not too far away and Welbeloved looked at him enquiringly. He released his hand and stood up. “There’s been a big battle on the hills around the town while you’ve been asleep. Soult is beat, but there are thousands more Frogs still advancing from the mountains. They’re too late though; we’ve had enough time to get the army embarked. Just a few of the reserve still to come and then we’re away.
It’s a dreadful tragedy that Sir John didn’t live to see his victory, though he’ll be spared the attacks of the rabble back home who’ve no idea what he’s had to contend with. However, I must go, we’ll be getting under way directly. Doctor Andretti will be here to examine you and then there are one or two more of your friends who have been clamouring to see you.”
They had to wait though. By the time his brother-in-law, the doctor, had examined him thoroughly, clucking to himself as he prodded and poked, sniffing at the rapidly healing wounds to try and detect any traces of corruption, Welbeloved was completely exhausted and the Condesa drove everybody away, while he sank into a deep, restorative sleep.
He stirred briefly at the familiar rush of feet and shouted commands above his head, when Titan’s crew hauled in the anchor and trimmed the sails to move her ponderous bulk. He swiftly relaxed again, and when next he awoke, he could tell that the ship was in the open sea and fighting her way home through a heavy storm in the Bay of Biscay.
Over the next three days, he recovered much of his strength, with the Condesa continuously at his side, as she had been during the whole of the week when he had been tossing in fever.
Vere and MacKay were allowed in on the following morning and were able to fill in the gaps in his recollection of the last days.
Titan had joined Hermes and Daphne at Ribadeo by the time they had hurried him back to the port. She had come prepared to embark seven hundred Spaniards to save them from the wrath of the French. Don Pedro had decided otherwise and with very little difficulty had persuaded his countrymen to stay in the mountains. They intended to continue the fight with the invaders, in the provinces where most of them had been born. The training they had received from Welbeloved and Anstruthers would serve then well in the sort of guerrilla war they intended to wage. They would form a nucleus and rallying point for the hundreds of vengeful Spaniards who would be left homeless and destitute when the French had rampaged through their homeland and stripped it bare of food and plunder.
Charles Cockburn, Titan’s captain, had thereupon re-embarked all the redcoats and had all the Hornets and their baggage transferred from Daphne. He had turned his own cabin over to the Condesa and had Welbeloved installed in his own cot to be attended by Doctor Andretti and nursed by Mercedes and Isabella.
Hermes and Daphne, with Anstruthers on board, had been sent to give whatever assistance they could in the evacuation. Titan had followed after, when everyone had been re-embarked. Anstruthers had also been charged with setting up a supply route for arms and ammunition to be supplied to the guerrilleros to help them with their recruiting. Welbeloved promised himself that he would speak to Admiral Harrison and get him involved with this.
On the second day of his convalescence, the Condesa finally allowed herself to be persuaded to take a rest. She had remained at his bedside throughout the course of his fever, taking only short naps to keep her going. Now she let herself stretch out in a cot, happy in the knowledge that he was out of danger, and slept the clock round.
While she was asleep, Vere and MacKay kept him company and related the story of the culmination of the fight with Roussillon. The Hornets, with their deadly accuracy, had routed the main body of the thirty-strong troop, leaving only the five who were attacking Welbeloved and the women. Three of these went down with their horses, one killed instantly, another trapped beneath with a broken back.
MacKay, sprinting towards the scene, had been just in time to see Isabella plunge her bayonet into the third as he staggered to his feet. The man was too dazed and astonished to resist the wild-eyed, screaming amazon and her frenzied attack.
The Scot was however, lost in admiration for the coolness of the Condesa. “I was too far away, d’ye see sir.” He still looked astonished as he recounted the incident. “I couldna help at a’, an’ there she was, calmly reloading after shooting the horses, while the Frog slashed at you and hurt you, then pulled his horse round to come back and finish you off. He was actually slashing down at you when her Leddyship shot him.
I think she hit his arm, because he rode off wi’ it dangling messily, but it knocked his sabre right out of his grip an’ it fell and skewered your ribs as you were lying on the ground, with the horse kicking your head in at the same time.”
He shook his head slowly in amazement while he related the story, then allowed his face to crack in a faint grin. “I think she was right pleased wi’ herself, because, once she though you were all right, she went hunting for a scabbard to put the sabre in, an’ hung it on her hip a’ the way back tae the ship.”
CHAPTER 33
The waiting room at the Admiralty was just as crowded on this late February morning as it had been, (how many months ago now?) when Welbeloved had last been here. He tugged his neck cloth into a more comfortable position and adjusted the sling supporting an arm that was rapidly becoming mobile once more, regardless of the pain of the lacerated muscles, which forced him to keep it supported. It was an ostentation he disliked intensely, but which drew speculative glances from many of the other supplicants in the room.
The Admiral didn’t keep him waiting. As he was shown into his office, it was as if he had been away no more than a day. Harrison heaved himself to his feet as he entered and greeted him warmly, growling at the attendant to fetch a chair and settle him in it. Welbeloved allowed his face to twitch at the solicitude. It was almost worth the affectation of a sling to get such attention, he thought. The hollow cheeks and lines of fatigue and pain on his face, which had been the main reason for Harrison’s concern, played no part in his calculations at all.
The Admiral was regarding him with a quizzical expression and shaking his head soberly. “I really don’t know what we are to do with you, Welbeloved. You have this amazing talent for making the most devoted and fanatical friends and,” he paused for emphasis, “almost equally fanatical enemies. It is a pity that these enemies are not one and the same as this country’s enemies, as then we would know how to treat them.
It is most unfor
tunate that the Duke of York, who is one of your most ardent admirers, is being forced to resign from the Horse Guards. His enemies are raking up dirt about the misdeeds of his mistress; selling underprice commissions in the army. I’m afraid we’ve lost a very good friend there; and so has the army.
However, my dear fellow, I am being most remiss. Allow me to offer my most sincere felicitations on your recent nuptials. Judging from the report of your adventures, she’s a most spirited young lady. I’ve no doubt though, that now you have her in harness; her warlike ardour will be more restrained, what? I wish joy to you both.”
Thank yew Admiral. That’s very good of yew, though I haven’t seen, or indeed would wish to see any diminishment of her spirit. I will now do my best, however, to keep her far removed from any more martial adventures. I am negotiating to take a small estate close to that of my friend Sir Charles Cockburn and his wife. We have been staying with them at Sutton Priors ever since he brought us home. Lucinda Cockburn and my wife are already amazingly good friends, and she and her husband have both been very kind whilst I’ve been getting over these scratches, and during our wedding.”
“I’m very pleased to hear it Welbeloved, and I do sincerely wish you every happiness, but–,” he looked most uncomfortable. “Let me be brutal about this. Capital is being made out of your attachment, by all those who are opposed to this unit we have created. It is being said that you have trapped her into marriage to you because of her relationship to King George. They accuse you of many things, not excluding treason.” The idea seemed to amuse him. “One Member of Parliament has even suggested that you should be put in the Tower; though he’s one of the Prince of Wales’s toadeaters and a rabid Whig. Coming from him, such a suggestion might even bring you a certain credit with the Government.”
He waved Welbeloved’s angry reaction to silence and went on to make his point. “I’m only telling you this because you should know how it is affecting your career and my future plans. You could have married the Queen of Spain and it would not have affected my regard for you, but it has meant that the recognition and reward you are entitled to, and should have received for all you have achieved in the last six months, is going to be far less than you deserve.”
A Despite of Hornets Page 34
