Beloved Enemy (20 page)

"Like as not, mistress," Jed agreed.
"
Colonel's waiting for you.”

"Very well." Ginny turned back to the landlady with
a tiny smile of resignation, the smallest shrug. "My thanks for your
hospitality, goodwife."

The woman inclined her head, then went back to the fire where
the cauldron of water was coming to a vigorous boil. Diccon motioned
courteously toward the door, and Ginny preceded him out into the early morning
sunshine.

Alex stood with his officers, listening attentively to a
corporal, and the colonel's face was grim. He glanced over
hi
s shoulder at Ginny as she appeared in the inn door,
and h
e
frowned. It was a puzzling frown
since, while it seemed
to
have something to do with her, it
did not appear to be directed
at
her. She would have liked to have gone
over to him, but something about the way they were all standing seemed to
exclude her. Besides, Diccon was waiting with cupped palms to toss her up onto
Jen. She accepted his help
,
with a smile of thanks,
then watched him go over to the group.

"Maybe you'd care for some greengages, mistress. It'll
be a thirsty ride, I reckon." The goodwife came suddenly out of the inn, a
cloth package in her hand. Walking over to Ginny, she handed it up as Ginny
leaned down to receive it. There were certainly greengages nestling in the
napkin, but in the moment she took it, the woman said barely audibly, “
T
he
red fox will
take you to those you seek between here and London." Then she was gone
back inside, leaving Ginny to puzzle over the cryptic information. Who or what
was the red fox?

Alex walked over to her, his face grave. He stroked Jen's
nose absently as he came straight to the point. "The ride today is going
to be unpleasant, I fear."

"In what manner?" Ginny felt a flutter of
apprehension as she wondered if the unpleasantness had anything to do with her.

"There has been some fighting along the road between
Winchester and Newbury." He paused, frowning. "Not clean fighting,
but skirmishes and reprisals. The results lie about the countryside. It will
not be a pleasant sight."

"Bodies?" she heard herself ask in a small voice.

"And worse," he replied bluntly. "I would
spare you if I could, but we must take the quickest route to London and it is
along that way that these things lie. You will ride in the
middle of us and try not to look around you. That is
the best I can do for you."

"I understand." Ginny stiffened her shoulders.
"I am no stranger to sickness and death, Alex."

"No, I did not suppose you were, but I would hope you
were a stranger to brutality, to the savagery of revenge."

Ginny shuddered, feeling slightly sick. Alex was preparing
her as plainly as he was able for the previously unimaginable, and she had
heard enough stories of this war to know that he would not be exaggerating.
Living on the island, they had been spared the full impact of the fighting and
occupation by armed forces, but she knew of the lands laid waste, the women
raped and murdered, the children dying of starvation. She could find no
adequate response, so re
m
ained silent.

Alex nodded, then left her to mount Bucephalus. "Sound
the
drums, Major. Today we will march to the rousing
music
of
battle lest we forget why these
things are happening."

At the first drum roll, the hairs on the back of her neck s
e
emed to lift, her scalp to prickle, at
the
eerily stirring sound. The ranks of men seemed to
stand taller, to march
m
ore briskly as if with a
reaffirmation of purpose, and G
i
nny could only
admire the commander who had his finger on the pulse of a two-hundred-man
machine and knew exactly how to combat the inevitable lowering effects of the
sights of war
'
s aftermath.

They reached the walls of Winchester in three hours, seeing
little
evidence of war along the way. The
sun was just reaching its mid-morning fullness, and Ginny looked idly up , at
the ramparts as they neared the gate to the city. Black carrion birds, ravens,
starlings, and crows, wheeled and shrieked, and, with a jolt, she realized why.
The ramparts were nauseatingly decorated with frieze of pikes, each one bearing
a head. They were barely recognizable as human,
the
eye sockets picked clean, hair straggling dryly like baked straw. Ginny
gazed in dreadful fascination. Edmund, Peter, and she herself could have been amongst
that number, left as a fearful reminder of the consequences of treachery until
the f
l
esh was picked clean from the skull
and only the bleached bones remained.

They passed under the thick, medieval stone archway,
returning the salutes of the guards. And within the city, there was worse. In
the market square there were gibbets from which hung the bodies of Royalist
troopers, bodies scarcely cold.

"Why?" Ginny whispered, swallowing the bitter lump
of bile that rose in her throat. "What did they do?"

Alex looked at her. "They were on the wrong side."

"That is all? You would condone this butchery for such a
reason?" She stared at him, horrified. This man who had made such
wondrous, tender love to her only that morning, just a few short hours ago,
could treat such brutality with this callous indifference.

"No, I do not condone it," he said. "General
Colney is indeed a butcher. He has not learned the principle that a little
intimidation teaches better lessons than a flood. People become indifferent to
punishment when there seems no justice in its administration and no way of
evading it."

"So you object only to the number put to death?"
she said slowly, "not to the act itself."

"
It
is necessary,
"
he replied shortly. "If we are
overly squeamish, this business will never be ended. The rebels must learn that
they fight a lost cause, and they must pay for fighting it."

And would she also pay for f
i
ghting it, Ginny wondered. In many ways, she already had. She had lost
her home, her fortune, had been thrown penniless and unprotected upon the world
unless she chose to seek the protection of the Courtneys — protection that they
could not deny her, except she would rather the. But that punishment was a
consequence of her earlier activities and those of her father. What of her
present role as king's messenger, spreading the very message that this savagery
was designed to prevent, that the cause was not lost and the king still demanded
their support? Yes, she would pay if she were discovered. It was the harsh
reality of war.

They halted at the military barracks, and again Ginny
shivered at the forbidding stone buildings, now
that
she had some inkling of what went on behind their walls. She found
herself listening for the screams, examining the faces of those they passed for
some overt signs that they had been engaged in torture and murder. How she
expected such indications to manifest themselves, she did not know, and,
indeed, saw nothing but stalwart yeomen going about their
bu
s
in
ess as placidly as if they were back
in their fields.

"
I
have to meet with General
Colney," Alex said as the cavalcade halted. "You can have no interest
in making his ac
qu
aintance so—"

"On the contrary," Ginny broke in. "I have a
great interest
in
telling him exactly what I think of
his butchery."

Alex's lips twitched.
"
Such
an indomitable little shrew you ar
e.
However, while I am sure you would be able to set him
in
the rightabout with very
little
difficulty, I think it more
advisable to avoid such a confrontation. Apart from anything else, I am
outranked by the general, and should he decide to take a personal interest in
your fate, there is little I could do to prevent him. You understand me, I am
sure."

"Yes
,
" said
Ginny in a considerably more docile tone. The
m
essage was not hard to read.
"
What
should I do, then?"

Alex chuckled. "How remarkably obedient you are become
all of a sudden."

"It is not amusing!" Ginny retorted. "How can
you make a joke of such horrors?"

The laughter left his face. "You have not yet seen the
worst," he warned. "And it is you who amuse me, nothing
e
lse." Ginny made no response, nothing suitable
coming to
m
ind, and Alex continued, "If you
wish, you may visit the town with Jed. If you avoid the market square, I
daresay there will be things to interest and amuse you."

"Are you not afraid I will evade Jed's guard?"
inquired Ginny, not with any seriousness. "The streets may be
crowded."

"No, I am not afraid of that
,
" Alex replied. "It would take someone
trickier than you, Mistress Courtney, to succeed in such an endeavor."

Jed heard his instructions to accompany Mistress Courtney
about the town with a laconic grunt, and Ginny decided that he would probably
have preferred to spend the time exchanging news with his cronies in the
barracks. She could hardly blame him
—
accompanying some female around the city streets was a tedious alternative to
ale and soldiers' talk. She, however, was fascinated, never before having been
in a town as large as Winchester. The number and variety of the stores was
almost bewildering, and if that was not enough, from every corner came the
lilting calls of street vendors. The city's inhabitants were going about their
business as placidly as if the market square were not hung about with executed
Royalists, and the town garrisoned by a large Parliamentary force.

Pausing outside a pie shop, she looked hungrily at th
e
wares displayed, the savory aromas of meat and golden
pastry setting her saliva running. " Tis noontime, I reckon," Jed
said, guessing her thoughts. "You'll be needin' nourishment." He
moved into the shop.

Ginny flushed with embarrassment.
"
Jed, I have no coin. I am not
particularly hungry."

"
Colonel
gave me his purse, said I was to buy whatever took your fancy," the batman
replied sturdily. " ‘Tis not your fault you're without monies." He
bought two pies, laying two brass farthings on the counter before handing a pie
to Ginny. It was hot, and steam rose from a small slit in the succulent
piecrust. Ginny, deciding that further protest would be both undignified and
self-defeating, sank her teeth into the pastry with a sigh of pleasure,
slurping at the rich gravy before it could run down her chin. Feeling, for the
moment, thoroughly contented, she strolled with Jed out of the shop, pies in
hand, and when they were finished, Jed bought her gingerbread and a
black-currant cordial from a street vendor. A holiday atmosphere seemed to prevail,
despite everything she had seen, and they stopped to watch a dancing bear,
huge, ungainly, and pathetic as it struggled around on its hind legs. Ginny
laughed and clapped with the rest but decided that she preferred the jugglers,
whose dexterity struck her as amazing, and she wished she had a coin to toss
into the threadbare cap as it came around. But it did not seem reasonable to
dispense Alex's funds in such a matter, particularly since he was not here to
enjoy the entertainment himself.

They returned to the barracks to find the brigade already in
formation. Jed, for the first time, allowed a flash of unease to cross his face
as he looked at the colonel, already mounted. He hurried across the barrack
square, Ginny following. "Beggin' your pardon, Colonel, but the time
passed me by." Standing stiffly at attention, he saluted.

"Oh, it was my fault," Ginny said swiftly. "I
was enjoying myself so much, I forgot all else. There were jugglers, you see.
"

"
Yes,
I do see," replied Alex with a
little
smile. "Put Mistress Courtney on her horse, Jed. We've twenty miles to
cover between here and Newbury, and we'll not wish to make camp before
then
, not if all I've heard is true."

Ginny
'
s light holiday mood dissipated at
these words, and she remembered what was in store for them on the march ahead.

She would never forget the long hours of that afternoon. The
drum continued to beat, but the drummer played a mournful tune as if he was
unable- to achieve the rousing spirits of that morning. Apart from the drum,
there was only a grim silence punctuated by the tread of marching boots, the
clop of hooves. There was devastation on all sides: fields laid to waste, corn
and wheat ruined, orchards destroyed, cottages blackened, roofless, and in some
cases still smoking. And there were the bodies, mutilated and left to lie in
the ditches where flies buzzed over the dust-coated, black blood of their
wounds. They hung, head downward from the trees, or stretched beside the
roadside, stripped of their clothes and left for the scavenging dogs.