It was a dilemma but she couldn’t in all conscience leave him to face whatever horrors might come his way. He was too young, and something about the way his hopeful eyes looked to her for help, spoke directly to her heart. She couldn’t let him down. Her Mama had done that to her often enough, but the first time, the worst time, was when she’d nearly drowned at the age of six.
She’d been chasing a cat along the harbor wall when she’d tripped and fallen into the water. Her mother, who’d been walking at her side, had peered over the wall and then just walked away. Adeline had never forgotten the look of dislike and detachment on her mother’s face and it was only as she was gasping for breath and going under for the second time that Papa, alerted by the cries of a village woman, had jumped in to save her.
Papa had been more furious with Mama than she’d ever seen him and her mother had never done anything so blatant again, but always the thought had been there — her mother didn’t love her.
Over the years the hurt had never lessened and Adeline had sworn that if she ever had children she would look after them as the precious little beings they were. And now here was Eugene who needed help, as she had needed it all those years ago.
‘Well, I suppose …’ she looked at Finch then back at Eugene, ‘you could come with us.’
‘What?’ Finch’s head jerked up and he rose from his crouched position. ‘Adeline, no. We can’t take him.’
She scowled at him from under her brows. ‘Well we can’t leave him here and if we want the horse it seems only right he should join us.’
‘You want Clara?’ Eugene scrambled up. ‘She’s old. Papa said she’s useless.’
‘Clara’s not too old to take us to Saint-Omer, is she?’ Adeline asked.
‘You’re going there?’ Eugene considered then shrugged his thin shoulders. ‘I don’t know but she’s the only horse we have left.’
‘Adeline,’ warned Finch, ‘we cannot embroil the boy in our affairs.’
‘Please sir, I have nowhere else to go,’ Eugene said. ‘And I can be useful.’
A shard of pity stabbed her heart. ‘You hear that Finch?’
‘I heard. But the answer’s still no.’
She stood up and dusted sour wisps of hay from her skirt. ‘Have you considered how he has compromised our presence here?’ she murmured to Finch. ‘He could easily alert the militia if we don’t take him with us.’
She had spoken softly but Eugene must have heard because his eyes widened. Cautiously, glancing between the two of them, he whispered, ‘You’re spies?’
Finch tensed but there wasn’t an easy explanation for why they were both lingering in the shed.
‘We’re on top-secret business,’ she said. Hopefully that explanation would satisfy him.
‘For the army?’
Clearly, Eugene thought them French and it would be safer to foster that impression. ‘Something like that,’ she said with a smile. ‘So you see it’s very important that if you join us, you stay silent and hidden when we say.’
‘I can do that,’ he said quietly.
And then she remembered he’d been hiding here for five days on his own.
‘This is madness.’ Finch looked at her in exasperation. ‘What will happen to him when our business is finished?’
She chewed on her lip. ‘I don’t know but I can’t leave him here to face this war alone. How could you ask that of me?’
‘How could I —’ Finch stopped and studied her, his eyes flashing with irritation. ‘There will be complications. Have you considered that?’
She glanced towards Eugene, his eyes big and round in his drawn face. No she hadn’t thought this through at all, which was just like her, but Eugene’s eyes pleaded with her and behind them was a quiet desperation that tugged on her heart.
‘We’ll work things out and I promise to look after him.’
Finch’s chest rose and fell like the dust motes in the air. He studied Eugene with eyes that saw too much. Eugene lifted his chin and smiled, a trembling little smile that made the hardened spy exhale with a tight sigh.
‘Then I hold you responsible.’ Finch glared at her. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
A slow smile spread across her face, echoed by one from Eugene.
‘Thank you,’ she said softly.
Finch looked at her for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable then his gaze swung back to Eugene. The boy had his hands clasped together as if he couldn’t believe his good fortune.
‘Come on then, Eugene,’ he said. ‘Let’s find a saddle for that splendid nag.’
They rested all that day amongst the hay bales. She shared her food with Eugene and later, exhausted from too many nights of fear, he snuggled against her side. She hadn’t been sure he would trust them enough to sleep but the warmth of his body was comforting and she watched his long eyelashes close across his pale cheeks as he slipped into a deep sleep.
He’d been so brave and she couldn’t imagine how frightened he must have been, waiting here and wondering what to do. A fierce wish to protect him sprang up in her and she wrapped an arm around him and watched over him while Finch kept guard at the door.
As the day marched on, her eyes grew heavy and she must also have fallen asleep for when she awoke Eugene was up and feeding Clara. They’d brought the horse inside the hay shed and Finch was inspecting the horse’s hooves.
‘If Clara makes it to Saint-Omer, I’ll turn into a pigeon,’ Finch muttered.
Eugene giggled then coughed and clapped a hand to his mouth. ‘Sorry, I forgot.’
She smiled at his earnest effort to stay quiet and swatted away a stray piece of hay. ‘When will we leave?’ she asked Finch.
‘As soon as it gets dark. You and Eugene will ride.’
‘But what about you?’
‘I’ll walk. With the horse in this state, we won’t be going fast.’
They ate a little of the food in their bundle and Finch slept a few hours while she kept guard with Eugene, but when the sky grew dark with scattered clouds, they saddled up Clara and began their journey.
Nothing moved outside the hay shed, but to be on the safe side, Finch lead them across field after field before bringing them back to the road several miles further away.
Eugene sat in front of her and hunkered into the shelter of her arms. He’d managed to grab an old leather saddle bag and had stuffed it with a horse blanket and a candle stub which he’d slung around his small frame. Finch walked alongside and for hour after hour they trudged along the murky track.
At first Eugene told them all about his family but after a while, except for an occasional cough from him, they all became silent, letting the darkness wrap around them like a cloak.
Close to dawn they stopped and found shelter in a wood near a small farming village. A roughly hewn sign on the road verge proclaimed it to be Licques.
They hid Clara amongst the beech and elm and carved out a leaf bed in the undergrowth. Adeline took the first watch while the others slept, then later in mid-morning when the other two had woken, she slept too.
She woke when a leaf fell on her face. For a moment she didn’t remember where she was then slowly her senses came back to her. She sat up and looked around. Eugene had disappeared and Finch was whittling a stick. He looked relaxed but his eyes were watchful.
‘Where’s Eugene?’ she asked, her senses on alert.
‘He was exploring and spied a blackberry bush at a nearby house. He’s gone to pick some.’
A tight band of panic gripped her. ‘You let him go by himself? What if he comes to harm? Or what if he tells them we’re here?’
‘He won’t. He wants to stay with us and that wouldn’t help him. He also wants to be useful and we can do with the food.’
‘But he’s so little and there could be dogs or soldiers or —’
‘He’ll be fine. He’s an intelligent boy.’
Nerves fluttered in her stomach but his calmness centered her. ‘I thought you said he’
d be a complication. Have you changed your mind?’
Finch shrugged. ‘No. But he’s not a bad lad.’
Minutes later Eugene arrived with his pockets bulging. ‘Got some blackberries and —’ he held up a wedge of cheese — ‘the farmer’s wife saw me and gave me this.’
‘You didn’t tell her we were here, did you?’ she asked quickly.
‘Course not. She thought I was one of them urchins.’
He pulled out handfuls of fruit, his palms already stained a dark purple-red. The blackberries were delicious and as each tiny morsel slipped down her throat, her stomach groaned.
Finch cut the wedge of cheese into three equal portions. By rights he should have cut himself a larger portion because he was twice the size of Eugene, but when this was pointed out to him he shrugged and said the boy needed nourishment.
When it grew dark, they saddled up Clara and headed off again. They traveled for hours before Clara suddenly stopped.
Adeline twitched the reins but the horse wouldn’t move. ‘I think she can’t go on any longer.’
Finch ran his hands over her flanks. They heaved with exertion. ‘Adeline, you’d better walk. She’ll cope better with one less person on her back.’
Adeline dismounted and stretched. It felt good to stand and she’d always enjoyed walking. Eugene patted Clara and coaxing her in his soft voice, the horse began trudging along again.
The cool night air refreshed her and she tried to match her stride to the spy at her side. He strode with easy steps, neither panting nor exerting himself unduly, just a steady pace that ate up the distance with the least possible effort.
They hadn’t gone more than a couple of miles when the horse buckled at the knees and collapsed onto the road. Eugene fell forward and landed with a bump in the dirt.
‘Eugene,’ she cried, rushing forward, ‘are you all right?’
Eugene bounced up onto his feet, the saddle bag tangled around his waist. He coughed and coughed, his little face strained in the cold night air. ‘Yes,’ he wheezed, ‘but I don’t think Clara is.’
The horse looked completely done in this time and they still had some distance to go.
Finch examined Clara then glanced at Eugene. ‘I’m afraid we can’t ride her anymore. We’ll have to leave her here.’
‘But we can’t.’ His little face screwed up. ‘She’ll get lonely.’
Finch met Adeline’s eyes, his face wearing an expression that said I-told-you-so.
‘Eugene, it’s too hard for her to continue,’ Adeline said gently. ‘You wouldn’t want her to suffer, would you?’
Eugene stroked the horse’s head and his little voice wavered. ‘No, but do you think someone will find her and look after her?’
It was more likely that someone would kill her and eat the meat. To Eugene however, Clara was his last family member, the last connection with home and Adeline knew what it felt like to say goodbye to everything you’d once known.
It seemed Finch had some idea too. ‘She’ll be found,’ he said, ‘and they’ll make her comfortable.’
His words were gentle and vague enough to mean anything. She hadn’t believed him capable of such sensitivity and gave him a grateful look. To tell Eugene the truth would have devastated him.
Eugene dashed a hand across his eyes then stroked Clara’s nose. The horse turned her head and nuzzled into his palm. ‘Goodbye, Clara.’
His soft, sad voice made Adeline’s heart trip. He’d lost so much.
She bent and took Eugene’s hand in her own. ‘Try not to worry. She’ll be fine, I’m sure.’ It was a useless platitude but in the circumstance she hoped Eugene found it comforting.
Finch hefted the bundle on his back and looked behind them. The road stretched away into the distance, deserted and forlorn. In front of them, things looked just the same. They were in the middle of nowhere.
‘Time to get going,’ he said, scanning the brush on either side of the track. ‘Saint-Omer can’t be far.’
For two hours or more they walked a road that meandered through marshland and plunged into woods. If there were militia in the area they weren’t on the road to see the three of them pass by but Finch never once relaxed his guard.
The moon stayed hidden by the cloud for a long time, helping to conceal them. Not until it appeared again did the spire of a church in Saint-Omer show dark against the sky.
‘We can take shelter there,’ she said, pointing. Her boots had started to rub on her heel and she longed to take them off and rest.
‘But the church has fallen down,’ Eugene said with a tired yawn. ‘Papa showed me once when we came here to the market.’
‘The church is a ruin?’ Finch smiled. ‘Excellent. No-one will think to find us there.’
Chapter Eleven
Eugene had told the truth. St. Bertin Abbey had collapsed. Part of the roof had caved in on the nave and the tower had lost some large buttresses which lay broken on the ground.
The front of the church still stood intact and they hurried over to the massive arched door. It stood half-open and pushing it gently, she peered inside.
Inky darkness, impregnated with a deep watchful silence, enveloped her at floor level. Above, near the clerestory windows, a fainter indigo sky peeked through the rafters where the roof had once been.
Something flew down from the tower and brushed her shoulder. She squeaked and ducked, her heart in her throat.
‘Bet it was an owl,’ Eugene said quite matter-of-fact.
Lord, she hoped so. If bats were here, she’d never rest.
The door shut behind her and a light appeared. Finch had lit one of the candles they’d brought with them and the weak light spilled across rows of wooden pews.
They sat empty and forlorn and some had toppled over. Tall stone pillars, fluted and decorated with scenes from the scriptures, arched in rows towards the pulpit. Stone rubble covered the floor and between the chunks of masonry grew weeds and moss. At the eastern end, on a raised platform, stood a stone altar split down the middle. The crack was so wide that a prayer book could easily fit inside.
‘What a shame,’ she said softly. ‘This beautiful abbey’s stood here for hundreds of years and now this.’
‘Papa said Bonaparte did it.’
She glanced down at Eugene. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Bonaparte closed down all the churches and used the stone and wood for other things.’
She glanced around, her heart heavy. The little dictator had a lot to answer for. Once it would have been filled with gold and bronze crosses, embroidered cloths, ornaments and prayer books. Now an empty shell, it seemed to echo with the anguish of monks forced to flee.
Finch held the candle over his head and studied the roof and the interior. ‘I think we should set ourselves down behind the altar. It gives protection from the rain and wind and we can see the door should someone enter.’
They made their way carefully down the central aisle. Eugene gave a cry and pounced on a miniature dark blue prayer book that had been missed by scavengers, wedged under a pew leg. ‘Can I keep this?’ he asked, his eyes shining.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. It’ll only rot away here.’
Delighted, he tucked it into his bag as they cleared an area behind the altar and laid out their bundles. Eugene got out his horse blanket and wrapped it around him. ‘How long will we be here?’
She exchanged a look with Finch.
‘Maybe two days,’ she said. ‘We need to go to a ball tomorrow night. To find out some information about a man we seek.’
‘Why are you looking for him?’
Finch’s mouth twisted and he set the candle down below the altar where the light would be minimized. ‘Eugene, it’s best you don’t know and you must promise not to tell anyone we are here. If you do, many good people could die.’
The grave tone of Finch’s voice struck Eugene. He knew about good people dying. ‘I promise, Finch.’
Finch studied him in the weak ligh
t, his hooded eyes keenly assessing the boy. ‘I believe you will keep your word.’
‘We can’t take you with us to the ball either,’ Adeline added. ‘You will have to remain here. Do you think you can do that?’
‘Will you leave a candle? My stub isn’t going to last long.’
Her eyes softened. She hadn’t thought about it but leaving him here in the abbey at night would be rather scary. ‘Of course we will.’
Eugene seemed happy about that and they all had the last of the food in their bundles. They would have to find something else to eat tomorrow. Maybe she could sneak into town and brave the shops.
Finch must have been thinking along similar lines because as soon as he had finished eating, he got to his feet. ‘I’m going to see if I can find Laroche’s house. Get a feel for what’s happening in the town.’
She nodded but her stomach sank as he slipped into the shadows beyond the candlelight and opened the abbey door. She’d grown accustomed to his solid presence and even though at times she found him infuriating, she felt safer with him around. Strange really, when once she had been so frightened of him.
The time passed slowly and she told Eugene about Fencarrow and her family. He was particularly interested in the seaweed cutting but after an hour his eyes began to close.
‘I think it’s time you tried to sleep,’ she said. ‘Here, lie down next to me and I’ll watch over you.’
Eugene didn’t argue. He’d walked a long way since Clara had collapsed. He nestled into her side, which seemed to bring him comfort. For a long time he was silent and she’d thought he’d gone to sleep but then a giant sob shook his little body and he buckled over and cried. Tears ran down his cheeks and across the hands he held to his face. Harsh ragged gasps came low in his throat and his profound sorrow burrowed deep within her.
‘Oh, Eugene. I’m so sorry about your parents.’ She rubbed his back and used the edge of the blanket to wipe his face. He didn’t say anything and hiccuped and snuggled closer, his body limp with fatigue. She stroked his hair out of his eyes and started telling him about the gulls on the headland.
An Unwilling Spy Page 11
