Once a Soldier (Rogues Redeemed) (6 page)

“That sounds perfect.” Will smiled to himself as he saddled his horse. A long day with Athena Markham was just what he wanted.

Chapter 7

A
s Athena expected, Will rode like a man who spent half his days on horseback, which he probably had. The rain and mist of the previous day had burned off, leaving sunshine and an intensely blue sky. San Gabriel was at its best.

She was glad he asked no more personal questions. As they rode through the town, all his attention was on his surroundings as he quietly absorbed every detail. The weathered stone houses topped with red tile were typical of this part of the world, but in places there were bullet scars or the marks of fire.

Will attracted attention for both his size and his uniform. Children stared as if he were a being from another planet. He smiled at them amiably. The smallest shrank back shyly, but one bolder boy said loudly, “Why is
he
here?”

Will replied in Gabrileño, “Visiting your beautiful country. Why are
you
here?”

The boy’s jaw dropped before he rallied and called back, “I was born here!”

“Good reason!” Will waved at the children as Athena guided them around a corner into the next street.

“Within an hour, everyone in town will know that we’re being visited by a British officer who speaks the language. Unheard of! You’ll be regarded as a lucky bird of spring.” When Will gave her an inquiring glance, she explained, “It’s a local expression for when the first songbirds return. A lucky, happy time, since winter is over.”

“I probably look more like a song bear,” he said with amusement. “San Gabriel has had a bad year, so I imagine all signs of good luck are welcome. Even song bears.”

“Do you sing?”

He grinned. “In a bearlike way.”

Athena would like to hear that.

The central plaza was quiet, since this wasn’t a market day. As they rode across, Will studied the church that formed one side of the square. “How old is the church? It’s very handsome.”

“The oldest part, the crypt, is over a thousand years old. It’s called the Church of Mary, Queen of Heaven.”

Will gave her a sharp glance. “Does that have anything to do with Prince Alfonso’s comment that the French stole the Queen of Heaven?”

“I’m afraid so. The French stole everything of value, including a beautiful old statue of the Madonna,” Athena explained. “The Queen of Heaven was the most sacred object in San Gabriel and everyone was devastated. The priest, Father Anselmo, tried to stop the thieves and was beaten and left for dead, but he survived. It’s generally thought that the Blessed Mother herself intervened to preserve him.”

The bell tower dominated the town plaza, and as they rode past, the church bells began to ring the hour. Will asked, “Can the bells be heard everywhere in the valley?”

“Yes, and the Church of Santo Espirito in the village at the west end of the valley has a matching set of bells. With a war going on just over the mountains, special warning signals were devised. When the French came, the deacon of Santo Espirito rang the warning that enabled people to escape into the caves.”

“Very good planning,” Will said approvingly as he guided his horse around a cart that had been left in the middle of the street. “If I’d been here, I’d also drill everyone on where they’d go to hide and what they could realistically take with them.”

“That’s exactly what was done here,” Athena said. “Otherwise there would have been many more casualties during the invasion.”

Will gave her a keen glance. “Did you suggest the signals and the drills?”

Surprised by his perception, she said, “It wasn’t all me, but I was part of the war council the king called to discuss preparations for what might happen, and several of my suggestions were adopted.” Carlos had said she was the most valuable member of his council, and privately she knew that he was right. All her years of reading had given her good ideas.

After they left the town behind them, it was only a short ride to the da Silva estate. The sprawling stone residence and outbuildings were surrounded by high walls and wide gardens. The elderly gatekeeper, who admitted them through the cast-iron gates, greeted Athena with a smile.

After returning the greeting, she started up the long drive, saying, “The da Silvas are the second largest landowners after the Alcantaras. Their fields suffered a great deal of damage from the French.”

“What is Señora da Silva like?”

“A lovely woman from a Portuguese family. Her youngest daughter is a close friend of Sofia’s. They went to school together in Porto. The youngest of the sons is at school in Spain and the oldest is a captain serving under his father. Did you meet him?”

“No, everything happened so quickly.” Will slanted her a glance as they reached the stables and dismounted. “There is a middle son?”

Athena sighed. “Was. Alberto was killed fighting under his father.”

“Too many young men have died,” Will said softly. “At least that is over for now.”

Athena’s mouth twisted as she led the way to the house. “I wonder if mankind will ever outgrow the desire for war. Womankind already has.”

“I’ve met some female guerillas as fierce as any man, but, in general, you’re right. Perhaps the world needs more queens and fewer kings.”

Athena pulled the bell rope by the front door. “What do you think of war, Will?”

“Sometimes it’s necessary. Always it is hideously destructive.” Will smiled wryly. “And too often it’s dangerously addictive. Some men thrive on danger and uncertainty and will never be content with peace.”

“Then they should all be put into an arena with weapons so they can fight it out,” Athena said tartly.

“Was that one of the suggestions you made in the Gabrileño war council?” he asked with interest.

“No,” she said. “But it should have been!”

* * *

A tiny old maid ushered Will and Athena into a reception room handsome with carved furniture and fine, slightly worn carpets on the polished tile floor. Apparently, the da Silva walls had protected the house from casual looting.

Will barely had time to survey his surroundings when the lady of the house entered the room with swift, anxious steps. Señora da Silva was an attractive woman of middle years dressed in mourning black and with a dramatic streak of silver waving through her dark hair.

She appeared on the verge of fainting. With her gaze fixed on Will, she asked tensely, “My husband? My son?”

“Both are well,” he said immediately. “I am here not to deliver bad news, but because Colonel da Silva asked me to accompany a unit of Gabrileño cavalry home. Though he and your son suffered some injury in the battle for Toulouse, both are recovering without problems. The colonel and the rest of his troops will be home in a few weeks.”

Her eyes closed and she gave a shudder of relief. Athena stepped to the older woman’s side and guided her to a chair. “Good news can be as jarring as bad news,” she said soothingly. “Would you like something? Brandy? Coffee?”

“No, thank you, my dear.” Señora da Silva opened her eyes and patted Athena’s arm. “When I saw a British officer, for a moment I feared the worst. But now I can breathe again.”

“I’m glad to have brought you good news, Señora. But your husband also entrusted me with more sobering information.” Will reached inside his coat and removed several folded sheets of paper that had been sealed with red wax. He handed them to the colonel’s wife. “Here is a list of casualties among your troops. He said that some of the families already know because of earlier letters, but there were more casualties at Toulouse.”

Señora da Silva gazed down at the pages, her expression sad. “I shall call on all these families. Lady Athena, do you think the princess will accompany me? Her presence will mean . . . much.”

“I know she will want to go with you,” Athena said softly.

“Then I will send a message to Sofia now.” Señora da Silva rose, her expression determined. “The sooner this task is done, the better.”

“Your husband sent one other thing,” Will said as he pulled a small velvet pouch from his inside pocket. “A gift for you.”

Curiously the older woman opened the pouch. The object inside was wrapped in soft cotton. She unwrapped the fabric, and a blaze of crimson jewels spilled across her hand. “A ruby necklace!” she said, startled. “He knows that I have always loved rubies. Dare I wonder where this came from?”

“If you fear that he tore these from the throat of a screaming Frenchwoman, the answer is no,” Will said firmly. “There is often looting after battles, and it’s not uncommon for a soldier to take what he can find, then later sell it to an officer for enough money to become drunk. That’s my guess as to how Colonel da Silva acquired this. You can ask him when he comes home.”

“When he comes home,” she repeated, her face shining. “I would offer you hospitality, but I must begin the tasks I have been given.”

“And we must tour the valley,” Athena said with a glance at Will. “Are you ready to learn the worst?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said promptly. Meeting Athena Markham was just a lucky bonus.

Chapter 8

W
hen Will and Athena left the da Silva residence, they rode through a grove of trees. Some looked fairly intact, others had been partially destroyed, and too many were charred skeletons. “Olive trees,” Athena said. “Though the cork trees survive fire reasonably well, the olive and almond groves were badly damaged.”

Will’s mouth tightened as he surveyed the damage. “This kind of gratuitous destruction is vile. What did it profit them to destroy sources of food?”

“General Baudin seemed very fond of gratuitous destruction,” Athena said, her voice flat. “He and his men were like a swarm of locusts, destroying everything they passed over. The vineyards suffered even more.”

They emerged from the damaged grove and Will saw great stretches of terraced vineyards stepping their way down the south-facing hills to the river that ran through the heart of the valley. His mouth tightened when he saw that most of the vines had been burned. A few had survived and were now leafing, but the vast majority had been destroyed, leaving the desolate terraces marred by lifeless blackened vines.

“I’m told that grapes have been grown on these hills since before the time of the Romans,” Athena said. “Now look at them! Baudin and his men were furious at how the Gabrileños fled and concealed so much of value. Before they set the fires, they packed straw around the bases of the vines so the heat would destroy the roots. As you see, very few vines survived.”

“It will take several years to develop new vines, won’t it?”

She nodded. “Yes, even if there were good cuttings available, it would take years. And we have very few good cuttings.”

As they turned right to follow a narrow road that ran between two sets of terraces, Will asked, “Where did people take refuge?”

“The valley has many caves, some very deep. Large enough to shelter everyone in San Gabriel along with a few of their most valuable possessions. Not everyone got to safety, but most did,” Athena explained. “Part of our preparations was to disguise the cave entrances so they were difficult for strangers to find.”

“But the fields couldn’t be hidden. I see wheat sprouting ahead of us.” He calculated the ripeness of the crops when the French had come through the year before. “The invasion was before the harvest, wasn’t it? Did they torch the fields?”

“Yes, and for an encore, they tore apart the valley gristmills. We’ll ride by the largest mill later so you can see the damage. The mills are repairable, but we haven’t been able to spare the labor to raise waterwheels and millstones. Not when there’s no grain to grind and there are so many other urgent tasks.”

Colonel Duval had been right to worry about this little country. “It must have been a hungry winter. Did the French take most of the livestock?”

“Yes, only a few of the best beasts could be hidden in the caves. They also carried off any other food they could find. Baudin’s army probably didn’t have to forage again until they were halfway across Spain.”

Will studied Athena’s elegant, determined profile, thinking he’d never met a woman like her. “How did people survive through the winter?”

Athena shrugged. “I used my savings and persuaded my trustee to advance me this year’s income. I suspect that he actually loaned me the money out of his own pocket. For which I’m grateful, because otherwise there would have been people dying of starvation. I was able to supplement the available food with staples like flour, beans, potatoes, and dried cod. I used the last of my funds to buy seed stock, but I couldn’t get as much as was needed.”

Though starvation was a familiar legacy of war, Will hated to think of the inhabitants of this pleasant valley in such desperate straits. “The Gabrileños are lucky you’re here. Feeding a whole country, even a small one, is an expensive proposition.”

“I’m not much of an heiress, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Athena said. “But I inherited a bit of money from my mother, and my father pays a very small quarterly allowance with the understanding that I never, ever mention that I’m related to him.”

Will’s mouth tightened. “You’d best not tell me the family name or I’ll be tempted to hunt your father down and hurt him when I return to England.”

“You needn’t look so murderous,” Athena said. “I’m a serious embarrassment. I’ve always suspected that my mother might have seduced my father just to humiliate him. At least he felt some sense of responsibility. He didn’t have to give me anything.”

“You’re very forgiving.”

“Merely pragmatic. There is no point in wasting resentment on a man I only met once in my life. He acted as if I was something one of the dogs dragged in. But he didn’t have me sent to the workhouse, for which I’m grateful.”

Dismissing the subject, she pointed ahead to where their current road met the river. “You can see the remains of the bridge there. It was the only bridge in the central valley, so losing it causes a good deal of inconvenience. There’s another bridge higher up the river, but using it makes journeys across the valley much longer.”

“I was sometimes seconded to help the engineers, and bridges were a specialty.” He studied the width of the river, the rushing force of the water, and the stone piers that were all that remained of the old bridge. “If timber is available and we can draft enough workers, it won’t be hard to build a new one.”

“Both wood and labor are in short supply,” she said. “Do you think the soldiers who returned with you would be willing to help rebuild?”

“Most have family obligations to attend to, but they’ll surely contribute some time to such an important project. Which leaves the problem of timber.” Will gestured toward the sunny expanses of the valley. “This part of the world doesn’t have a lot of trees.”

“We’ll find something,” Athena promised. “Shall we continue on? A dam was destroyed on one of the creeks that leads into the river and it is also much missed.”

Will grinned. “Bridges and dams are an engineer’s notion of amusement. Lead on, Lady Athena.”

She laughed. “I’m very glad you were Colonel da Silva’s choice to come here!”

As he watched her face light up with laughter, Will was equally glad.

* * *

By the time Athena had shown Will the worst problems in the valley, it was time for lunch. She led the way to a favorite spot of hers when she was in the area. Long ago, someone had built a wooden bench inside a shallow cave that wasn’t much more than a stone overhang. In front was a patch of soft grass and a dozen feet away, a spring emerged from the hill and pooled in a small stone basin perfect for horses or humans to drink from. The overhang was about halfway up the valley wall and gave a sweeping view of the river, farms, and vineyards.

While Will tethered the horses in a spot where they could enjoy water and grass, Athena unpacked her saddlebag and spread a cloth in the middle of the weathered bench. “Sorry that lunch is another really simple meal,” she said as she set out packets of bread, cheese, and olives. Last to emerge was a jug of wine, a knife, and two sturdy glass tumblers.

“No apologies needed,” Will said as he settled down on the other end of the bench. “Good food, good wine, a wonderful view, and most excellent company.” His gaze was warm.

Even without looking, she was very aware of Will’s strength and presence. It was difficult not to stare at him. She’d given up trying to persuade herself that her attraction was merely because they were both English. She was attracted because he was unnervingly appealing. Intelligent, kind, quietly charming, and rather beautifully strong and handsome. Of course she noticed. She was human and female.

So be it. They could be friendly and speak English for a week or two, and then he’d leave and she’d never see him again. Not ever. So enjoy his company, and give thanks for his presence.

With an internal sigh at her foolishness, she poured wine. When she handed him a glass, he clinked it against hers. “To San Gabriel!”

“To San Gabriel, and someday England!” Though heaven only knew if she’d ever make it back there. She sipped appreciatively as she gazed at the fields and terraces and the distant glint of the river. “It’s a luxury to relax and enjoy a beautiful day. Most of my time recently has been spent jumping from one crisis to another. Dealing with trees and missing the forest.”

“Metaphorically speaking,” he said with a wave at the mostly treeless valley.

“Metaphorical trees,” she agreed. “But touring the valley has reminded me of just how much needs to be done. We barely made it through last winter. If more fields aren’t planted soon, next winter might be even worse.”

Will cut a slice of cheese and laid it on a piece of bread. After swallowing a bite, he asked, “If you could wave a magic wand, what would you ask for?”

“Money and men,” she said promptly. “Money for seed and equipment and to pay laborers hired to do the work.” She frowned as she considered other needs. “I’d also wish for really good vine stock to replant the vineyards. There will be few grapes harvested this year, and if we don’t start planting, the future will be no better.”

“I assume the French drank or carried off most of the wine,” Will said. “How much is left for the Gabrileños? Clearly, it’s vital for morale.”

“Actually, the French didn’t get much of our wine, but most of what’s left isn’t accessible,” Athena said. “The local vintners have always stored wine in the caves because the temperatures are so steady. A troop of French cavalry was on the verge of capturing the two main storage caves when an avalanche sealed them off.”

Will’s eyes widened. “I’m guessing that wasn’t an accident. Or else the patron saint of your valley is very,
very
good at his job!”

Athena chuckled. “You’re right, it was no accident. Sofia and I were visiting the Benedictine convent when we heard the warning bells from Santo Espirito. I had a spyglass with me and I could see the French pouring into the valley from the west. They moved at amazing speed. They’d obviously planned the invasion and sent in spies to learn the lay of the land because the cavalry troop was heading right for the storage caves. The convent wasn’t far off, so Sofia and I were able to get there first.”

Will stared at her, appalled. “The two of you thought you could take on a troop of French cavalry?”

“Not directly, of course. But a violent storm earlier in the summer had washed away the soil around a group of boulders above the storage caves. The vintners had been arguing about whether the hillside could be stabilized, or if it would be necessary to move the wine barrels into new caves, which would be a huge job. I’d inspected the damaged area a fortnight or so earlier and I knew it was unstable.” Athena smiled wickedly. “So with the help of the horses, some levers, and the basic laws of physics, Sofia and I triggered a landslide.”

“You’re an intrepid pair,” he said admiringly. “Then what? I assume you raced off at top speed.”

“Exactly. We took shelter in a small cave higher up and hid for several days. That’s why Sofia wasn’t taken by Baudin as her father and brother were.” Athena made a face. “Baudin was enraged that she escaped, but he couldn’t take the time to search for her because he was retreating from Wellington’s army.”

“I suppose he declared Prince Alfonso to be regent because he wanted to leave the country weakened,” Will commented.

“Perhaps. No one disputed the appointment since there was no other senior member of royal family available and Sofia is too young to rule.” Athena shook her head. “We were all too busy recovering from the damage Baudin caused to think about his motives. At least we could take pleasure in depriving the French of their loot, but, of course, the caves are sealed off from us, too. I’m sure they can be dug open, and I think that most of the wine barrels will have survived, but it will be a huge job. Once again, we need laborers and the ability to pay them.”

“If people run out of wine, I’m sure you’d get many volunteers to clear the debris, but there are other priorities,” he agreed. “What is most important?”

Between them, they’d polished off all the food and half the bottle of wine. Athena shook out the cloths, wiped the knife blade clean, and returned everything but the wine and wineglasses to her saddlebag.

“The answer to that depends on what kind of help is available,” she replied. “Now that you’ve surveyed the valley, what do you think is doable? Despite your Colonel Duval, I have trouble believing that the British government that never gave Lord Wellington sufficient resources to fight a war will contribute anything to help a tiny country most Britons have never heard of.” Her mouth twisted. “Even if they want to help, heaven only knows how long it would take for effective aid to arrive.”

“I have some ideas,” Will said, unperturbed by her pessimism. “An old school friend of mine, Justin Ballard, lives in Porto. He runs his family’s wine-shipping business and I think he’d be willing to help you out.”

“Ballard Port, the Scottish company?” she asked, surprised. “Everyone has heard of them.”

“His family has been in the business for several generations,” Will said. “The port business has been badly disrupted by so much war in the region, and it’s been frustrating for Ballard because he hasn’t enough to do. I’m sure he’d be happy to send grape vine cuttings and the men to plant them, and he could do it quickly.”

“That would be wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’m sure it would even be the right varieties of grapes. But who would pay for it?”

“I will,” he said calmly.

She gasped. “As you observed earlier, supporting a whole country is a very expensive proposition.”

He shrugged. “I’m comfortably off and I haven’t had much chance to spend money while in the army. I can afford to pay for some practical help for San Gabriel.”

He was completely serious, she saw. “I don’t know when, if ever, the royal treasury will be able to repay you,” she said uncertainly.

“I’m too cautious to lend anything I can’t afford to lose, so I don’t. This is a gift to a gallant country.” Seeing her doubtful expression, he grinned. “Christian charity?”