Rules of War (27 page)

He turned to his men, uttered a command in French and the rear rank filed around and to the side of the front and slowly and deliberately began to take Trouin's men prisoner, binding them together in pairs.

Again the pirate commander laughed: ‘D'you think that these few drunkards are all of my men, Lieutenant? Don't you know that I have many more above in the tavern and others on the two ships lying in the harbour? Don't you suppose that they will rescue me?'

Lejeune shrugged. ‘Your men in the tavern are already under my guard,
monsieur
, on their way to the cells. As for those in the harbour, we shall see. Soon though, I surmise that we will have more pressing problems. We have received information that the British are about to attack – most probably in the morning. Even now my major is making plans to defend the town.'

Trouin spat: ‘Malbec? What does he know? Does he
know of this? I can't believe that he ordered you to arrest me.'

‘He didn't. I came here on my own initiative. And thank God I did.'

Leaving behind a small party to take care of the mess that had been Marius Brouwer, they left the cellar, Lejeune first with Lady Henrietta, followed by Steel and Slaughter. Then came Trouin and behind him in small groups, contained with stout ropes and prodded on by bayonets, his men. For Steel every one of the stone steps they took back up into the real world, away from the charnel house of the cellar, was agony. He made no sound. But with every pace the pain in his entire body seemed to grow, cutting through him like a red-hot knife. They reached the main room of the tavern, which had been cleared of Trouin's men, and went out into the street. It was early morning now and the bells of the great church had begun to chime for matins. Steel turned to Slaughter and smiled and finally found the words.

‘Christ Jacob, you took your bloody time.' And as he spoke he felt his knees suddenly give way and then there was no choice but to let himself go, thankfully into the peaceful velvety blackness.

Steel awoke with a start. The nightmare had been horribly real, the pain palpable. Exhausted and drenched in sweat, he lay flat on his back. Opening his eyes he blinked at the cool light streaming in through a small mullioned window and stared up, hypnotized momentarily by the lacework of patterns the shadow cast upon the ceiling. He had no idea where he was, and could not recall how he had come to be here. Outside he could hear seagulls calling and concluded that he must be in a port, or at least close to the sea. His fuzzy mind began to make sense of it all, bringing a feeling of dark foreboding and the beginnings of memory. Ostend. A mission for Hawkins. A girl. And blood. Too much blood. He thought that perhaps he should sit up. Tentatively, he flexed his right arm, and instantly a pain shot along it from fingertip to armpit. Putting his weight on his left elbow, he tried with some difficulty to raise himself up. And as he did so the pain in his back, his arms and his stomach hit him with nauseating clarity.

Closing his eyes, Steel fell back on to the bed. And only now did he begin more fully to remember, and in that one
ghastly moment it occurred to him that it had not been a dream.

Now Steel relived the full horror of what had happened. The thought brought an unaccustomed feeling of panic. Then he recalled the rescue and it dawned upon him that he must be in the house of a friend. He relaxed and let his arms move across his torso – he was naked. He reached for his legs and found to his relief that both were still there. Moving upwards he felt for any terrible wounds that he might not have remembered. All seemed as it should be. He opened his eyes and saw that he was lying on a wooden bed, a simple affair, covered with a clean sheet and a blanket. Turning his head to the left brought a pain in the muscles. On a table beside him stood a flask of water and a glass. Lying across a white porcelain bowl was a small, clean towel. He saw that his coat, breeches and waistcoat had been carefully draped across the wooden chair opposite the table along with his sword and belt. They looked as if someone must have brushed them. A clean shirt hung on a hook at the door, and in the corner of the room were his prized boots, which too it seemed had been polished. It was only then that Steel realized that someone else was in the room. For a second he panicked again, then managed to raise his head and saw Jacob Slaughter. The sergeant was sitting on a wicker-seated chair, across from the bed, close to the door.

He smiled at Steel: ‘Good morning, sir. Cup of coffee for you?'

Steel forced a painful smile and felt the scars on his face contract. ‘Thank you, Jacob. Yes, that would be nice. Have you any notion where we are?'

Slaughter rose and crossed to the table where Steel saw now there was a tall jug of coffee. He watched as the tall sergeant poured out the thick, almost black liquid into a small blue and white china bowl.

‘Private house, sir. Belongs to a woman by the name of Huber; friend of poor Mister Brewer, if you remember, sir.'

Steel remembered. And Slaughter's grim expression told him that his memory did not fail him.

‘Terrible business that, sir.'

Steel blanched at the thought. In his mind he saw the indelible image of Marius Brouwer's ghastly, shrieking, maimed head. Gratefully, he grasped the steaming bowl of coffee and took a long draught, before speaking, slowly and trying not to show his latent fear.

‘Where's Trouin now?'

‘Still under arrest, sir. But it can only be a matter of time till the French commander finds out and lets him go. Then that lieutenant of his'll be in for it. We'll need to move as soon as it gets dark, sir. Get back to the lines.'

Steel sipped from the bowl. ‘What time is it?'

‘Coming on for five in the evening. You've been asleep all day. Like a baby.'

‘Lady Henrietta?'

‘She's next door here, sir. Asleep an' all, I should guess, after what they done to her.'

‘How is she?'

‘She was in a pretty bad way, kept crying and shaking. Shock, sir. Like one of the new lads when the balls start flying – battle shakes. You know, trembling and can't stop gabbling. Some as wet themselves. Not that she'd done that, sir, if you pardon me.' Slaughter blushed and continued, ‘It's seeing so much blood on a battlefield that gets 'em. Reckon that was what done for her too, all that blood. Seeing poor Mister Brewer an' all that. You too, sir. You weren't a very pretty sight, if you don't mind my saying so.'

From the extent of his pain, Steel did not find that hard to believe. Only now did he take in the fact that somehow he
had been carefully cleaned up and his wounds dressed. He ran an experienced hand over the dressings. Whoever had done this had been no novice.

‘Did you do this, Jacob? Patch me up? Made a pretty good job of it.'

Slaughter laughed and shook his head. ‘Not me, sir. It was that Miss Huber. Seems she was a nurse with the Frenchies for a while.'

‘Then I am in her debt as well as yours. But you still have not told me how you came to our rescue.'

‘We heard that your disguise had been turned. A serving-girl in the tavern heard it from one of Trouin's men, boasting how they was going to kill you good and slow. All sorts of things. One of Brewer's people came to tell Miss Huber, who found me and Mister Fabritius at his house. So I says, “Jacob, you can't let them do that to Mister Steel”. And I was on my way to find you and that's when I spotted the French lieutenant. Or at least, he found me. Recognized me from the village, see and took me for a spy. Well, of course I told him what I was up to and the rest you know, sir.'

Steel smiled and shook his head, gently: ‘I gave you an order, Jacob. I told you that if anything happened to me you were to return to the lines. You deliberately disobeyed a direct order, Sarn't.'

Slaughter looked down at the floor: ‘Yes, sir.'

‘Bloody well done. You have my permission to do the same again if the occasion ever demands it. Thank you, Jacob, truly. I am for ever in your debt. You saved my life, and Lady Henrietta's.'

‘Weren't nothing really, sir. Couldn'tha' done it without the lootenant. God help him.'

‘Yes, I dare say he'll need more than God to help him when Trouin gets hold of him. I only pray that he can remain alive
long enough for us to return. Then, perhaps I can repay the favour and take him prisoner. Now, let's see how much of a cripple that bastard's made of me.'

Putting all his effort into raising himself up, Steel pushed away from the bed and managed to sit. Christ, but he hurt. Slaughter noticed the pallor come over his officer's face.

‘You all right, sir? Shouldn't be too hasty.'

Steel smiled at him: ‘Thank you, Jacob. She's done well, our Miss Huber. I'm as good as new.'

Slaughter nodded his head and raised his eyebrows. ‘And I must say you do look it, sir. Fit as a flea you are … I don't think. You look right buggered up, if you want my opinion, Mister Steel.'

Steel stood and crossed the room to where a shirt hung on the door. Painfully, he pulled on the loosely-cut white garment and laced it up before wrapping the stock around his neck.

‘You may have your opinion, Sergeant. It's of no consequence to me. And it's Captain Steel, do remember, Jacob. Now, it's time we were going I think. Lady Henrietta is …?'

‘Next door, sir.'

Steel, having pulled on his breeches, was now buttoning his waistcoat. His boots followed quickly and he suppressed a groan of pain.

‘Thank you, Jacob. See and get our kit ready if you would. I'll wake Her Ladyship.'

As the sergeant rattled down the narrow staircase, taking Steel's sword and belt with him, Steel approached the neighbouring bedroom. He knocked lightly on the door. There was no reply. Unable to resist, he turned the handle and entered. Lady Henrietta Vaughan was lying asleep on a bed similar to the one he had recently vacated, in a similarly neat little room, beneath a crisp white sheet. Steel wondered
whether she too were naked. He stared at her for a moment and then turned to go. But as he did so she slowly opened her eyes.

‘Who's that? Captain Steel, is that you?'

Steel turned back towards the bed: ‘My Lady?'

‘Do not go, Captain. Please, stay a while. I wish to thank you.'

‘Thank me, ma'am? It's not me you need to thank but my sergeant and that French officer. They're the ones that saved both of us.'

‘No, no. You mistake me, Captain. You are the one who in the first instance came into this accursed town to save me, and for that I must thank you not least. And for the terrible pain you endured on my account. How are your wounds?'

‘They can be borne, ma'am. I heal quickly as a rule. But what of yourself, My Lady? You have slept? You should have more rest. Let me leave you now.'

She smiled at him and in her face Steel saw something of the look of his first love, her cousin Arabella Moore. It was mostly, he thought, in her eyes. The resemblance shook him and took him back again to his first meeting with the woman back in London whose intrigues had sent him into this town to rescue Lady Henrietta. Here, he thought, was the young and gentle Arabella, the Arabella who had taken him under her wing and into her heart and taught him about love. The fearless, shameless young woman who had bought him a commission in the Guards and had then done her best to keep him away from Horse Guards, locking them both into her boudoir for days on end so that on more than one occasion he had had to take his leave by way of the window to be present at the morning parade. Lady Henrietta noticed his gaze and blushed. Steel became aware that he had been staring at her for some time:

‘I'm sorry, ma'am. It was just that …'

She smiled and nodded her head: ‘It was just that you saw in me something of my cousin, Mister Steel. Am I right?'

She grinned with an inward satisfaction and yet, he thought, no hint of jealousy. ‘May I call you Jack?'

‘If you wish to, ma'am. And you are quite right in your supposition, of course. And I apologize. It was unforgivably discourteous.'

‘On the contrary, I take it as profound flattery, Captain. My cousin is reckoned a most beautiful woman and even if she is ten years my senior, she has retained her looks most remarkably.' She looked away. ‘Is it very long since you last saw her, Mister Steel?'

Steel had heard her, but did not reply. He found himself gazing at her again. The resemblance was uncanny; those eyes, the nose and that divine mouth with the little upward twist at the corners of the lips. There too were the same high cheekbones and most of all the hair, fine and fair, like so much silken thread. Lady Henrietta's hair was tousled now after her sleep and lay fanned out across the pillow.

She smiled warmly at Steel. ‘Why, I do believe you are doing it again, sir.'

Steel shut his eyes and looked away. He shook his head. ‘I am most terribly sorry, My Lady. I shall leave you now. You really must rest. And once you are ready we need to get away from this place. That devil Trouin may be under lock and key, but even now his men will be primed to find us, and as soon as the garrison commander realizes what has happened, he too will come looking for you. For us. We have to leave within the hour at most, My Lady.'

She tutted and pushed the sheet a little away from her face, revealing the perfection of her collarbones. ‘Do call me Henrietta, please, if I am to call you Jack and if we are to go
on the run together. And I am not tired. Please come and sit with me; tell me how we shall make our escape.'

He walked over to the bed and sat beside her. Looking down now, he saw the gentle undulations of her body beneath the sheets and chided himself, for the image that entered his mind was that of her as she had appeared in the cellar. Closer, she was even more like Arabella. Steel felt a strange yearning. Not for Arabella as she was now, as he knew her to be at court: jealous, sly, conniving. But for Arabella as she once had been. His Arabella, then, but now an unattainable, vanished, imaginary presence. Yet suddenly she was here again, lying in front of him, in an all too tangibly fleshly form.

‘Dear Captain Steel, I do swear that, flattering as it might be, if you should ogle me once again in such a manner, I really shall protest most loudly.'

She giggled and as she smiled at him he saw in her eyes more than a hint of attraction. Steel tried to caution himself, to tell himself that he was not in love with this woman; that it was her cousin's youthful ghost that had so intoxicated him. But try as he might, the curve of her body and the flash of her eyes would not let logic prevail. A sharp twinge from his torn and flayed back brought Steel back to the very real danger of their circumstances. ‘We should go soon. As soon as possible.'

‘How do we escape?' she said, helplessly.

‘We must wait until nightfall. We can go by way of a small door in the west wall. Brouwer told me about it. It's what they call a sally-port, built by the defenders so that they could attack any besiegers and take them by surprise. Seems the Frenchies have forgotten about it. Marius hadn't. He told me that he and his friends had played in it when they were boys, pretending to be smugglers or pirates or Spanish invaders in
the great siege. Funny, that. Well, we'll make sure that Marius has the last laugh. Brouwer's men will have it open for us. You, me and Sergeant Slaughter. It's the same door we're going to use when we make the assault. Probably tomorrow.'

‘You intend to be in that assault, don't you?'

‘Be in it? I intend to lead it.'

‘Is that not very dangerous?'

‘Yes.'

‘Will you die?'

‘Perhaps.'

‘I should not want you to die, Jack. I don't think I could bear it.'

He looked into her eyes: ‘I am a soldier. It is my profession. I know of nothing else.'

‘You know of me.' He did not answer, but looked away. She spoke again: ‘And I know that you are a good man. And that you must not get killed. Is it really worth it?'