Dark Angel (12 page)

It was clear the decision would not be in Luis's hands. He had some ability to rally the others, but his mind would not allow for complexity. English officers, a message for the English general, a wellborn woman and her child hiding in a wine cave, all these seemed to stretch the bounds of his credulity. Very well. Let them think Adam a French spy and Caroline his whore. They had little choice but to go along and no hope of recovering their horses and provisions if they were left behind. Hawkins, Adam prayed, stay safe. But Hawkins, Adam guessed, was not far away and would follow them to their unknown destination.

A quarter of an hour later the mule was packed with their belongings and the horses saddled. The men had broached a barrel of wine, but Luis, to his credit, did not let them linger. Caroline kept her imperious mien and would not look at Adam, making it clear that he was merely an escort and of little account. Her manner puzzled Luis, but he allowed her to mount her own horse and take Emily before her. Emily was wide-eyed but said nothing. Apparently she had learned much in her months in Spain, including the virtue of silence. Adam caught her eye, winked, and was a rewarded by a small smile.

Adam did not know how long they walked. More than an hour, perhaps two. Their pace was slow because of the mule who did not respond well to the boy's ministrations, and because Pedro and Carlos must lead the other horse, neither seeming comfortable in the saddle. The day had broken, a gray morning with a sharp wind that increased as they climbed farther into the hills, then softened as they descended into a narrow valley transected by a small stream. The
guerrilleros,
as Adam assumed them to be, must have their camp here. He saw the smoke of a fire and the sudden eagerness of the men. Then he caught the smell of animal dung and in a moment two tethered burros came in sight.

"Hola!"
Luis called. He spurred on Baron and was met by a half-dozen men who emerged from a stand of trees. Their eyes widened at the sight of the horses and the laden mule who bore the extra burden of a wine barrel strapped to the flat saddle on its back. Luis scanned the faces before him. "Where is Joaquin?"

A heavyset man, older than the rest, pushed his way through the others. "So, Luis. You are late."

Luis's mouth broke into a broad smile. "Agreed. I am late, but I bring horses and a fine mule and wine to warm us."

Joaquin's eyes narrowed. "And prisoners?" He had caught sight of the woman on the small horse and the man with his hands tied behind his back who was being pushed forward unceremoniously by Miguel. "You're a thick-witted fool. What use have we for prisoners?"

Luis dismounted and signaled the boy to come and hold Baron's bridle. He walked toward Joaquin with a sure-footed swagger and led him to the bank of the stream where they engaged in a low-voiced colloquy. Adam kept his eyes on Joaquin. Joaquin must be the leader of the group, and with luck he would prove more intelligent than Luis.

On the other hand, perhaps he could read, and in this case the letter from Lescaut would be damning. Joaquin made gestures of protest, then turned narrowed eyes on Adam and shook his head. Luis pressed the papers into his hands and Joaquin perused them thoughtfully. Then with sudden decision he turned and strode toward Adam who waited quietly, Miguel's knife at his back.

"What do you call yourself, Señor?"

"Forgive me, Señor, but in these times a name can be a dangerous thing."

Joaquin regarded him with shrewd eyes. "In these parts a name is dangerous if it is French. Are you a Frenchman, Señor?"

"I am English."

"So you claimed. An Englishman traveling to Freneda with a message for the great Wellington."

"I travel to Freneda, but the rest is a lie." Joaquin raised his brows. "I wished to protect the lady," Adam continued. "Luis did not then know of her presence."

"And your business in our country?"

"To find Señora Rawley who had gone to Acquera in the hills above Burgos to seek her wounded husband who was too ill to travel and who was left behind during the English retreat. And to bring the Señora and her child to the safety of the English Headquarters. That is my sole business, Señor. I go unarmed."

The web of lines around Joaquin's eyes deepened. He looked at Caroline, sitting erect on her horse, no trace of fear on her face. "You tell me the woman traveled to the hills of Burgos in the winter? Traveled with the child?"

Adam shrugged. "Who knows what passions drive a woman?"

A faint smile crossed Joaquin's face, but it was quickly erased. "I have seen Englishwomen follow their men when the army is on the march. But this woman you claim traveled alone, till you took her out of Acquera, leaving her husband—"

"Dead."

"Convenient. You tell a wondrous story, stranger. You speak like one of us. You say you are English, but your face betrays you. And you carry"—Joaquin selected one of the papers in his hand and waved it before Adam's face—“you carry a letter bearing the signature of Colonel Lescaut. Lescaut who is now in Salamanca with General Villatte. What am I to think? Do I believe you? Or do I believe this?" He tightened his grip on the paper. His eyes, black and piercing, stared into Adam's as though he would wrench the truth from his very soul.

Adam knew then he had lost. Perhaps he could make some bargain, trade his person for Caroline's freedom, and pray that Hawkins would somehow appear and lead her to safety. He was about to speak when there was a cry from Emily. He turned and saw her wriggle free of her mother's arms and drop to the ground. Then she scrambled to her feet and ran to the group of men standing near the trees. Her target was a slender man of medium height who stood a little apart from the others. He must have just appeared, for he had not been among the group that came to witness their arrival.

The man stooped and lifted Emily in his arms. Caroline slipped from her mount and ran to join them. They were too far away for Adam to hear their words, but Caroline was speaking rapidly, pointing to the horses and then to Luis and to Adam. The man listened quietly, then nodded with decision. He took her arm and led her to Joaquin.

As they approached, Adam saw that Caroline's face was radiant with joy and relief. She called out, "It's Victor!"

Chapter Six

"Victor Soro," Caroline said as she reached Adam. "Adela's husband." She looked at the small dark man beside her as though she had produced a miracle. As indeed she had. "Victor," she went on, ignoring Joaquin who was standing beside Adam, "this is my friend from England, Adam Durward. He came to find us in Acquera, and he saved us from the French soldiers."

Victor held out a hand, then dropped it as he realized Adam's hands were bound. "You are welcome, Señor. Mrs. Rawley has been a good friend to my family."

Emily's arms were firmly clasped around Victor's neck. The friendship seemed to go both ways. "Your family has been good to her," Adam said.

Joaquin followed this exchange with watchful eyes. "You know this woman?" he said to Victor. "You vouch for her?"

"With my life."

"And the man? The Frenchman?"

"Mrs. Rawley says he is English." Victor's eyes met Joaquin's and did not waver.

There was a brief, silent struggle and at its end Joaquin shrugged and looked away. "You, Miguel!" he said with sudden decision. "Free his hands. And bring him his boots."

Miguel seemed stunned by this reversal. Then, at an angry gesture from Joaquin, he hastened to follow his orders. Joaquin turned to Adam. "So, the name you would not give me is Durward. You see, I trust my friend, Victor Soro. I offer you our apologies, Señor Durward, but you understand in these days, in this place, we must be careful."

Adam, occupied with his boots, nodded in understanding.

Joaquin returned the map and letter to Adam. "This letter, it still bothers me, Señor."

Adam stowed the papers carefully inside his coat. "This letter has served me as a kind of passport. But do not believe everything you see."

Joaquin stared at him a moment, then his face broke into a grin. "I see. A forgery. Yes, you are a clever man. Come, follow me, you must all be hungry, and the little one most of all."

They were soon sitting among the trees, sharing breakfast with their former captors. As Adam had suspected, the men were
guerrilleros,
a small band operating in the hills above Palencia. Luis and Miguel had been sent out the previous day on a recruiting expedition—Carlos, Pedro, and Jaime had been won to their cause—and were returning to the camp when they spied the horses. Luis had improvised and caught horses and a mule, as well as a French spy. Now Joaquin decreed that the spoils be returned. Luis was angry, then petulant, then philosophical. Victor had spoken, and Victor, it seemed, was held in high regard. He had arrived last night from a
guerrillero
encampment in the north and his presence had fired the group with a thirst for action.

Caroline told them the story of her journey from Lisbon, her two-month stay in Acquera, her husband's death, the French raid and Adam's cleverness in outwitting the French, the wound he had got in defending her virtue. The men followed the story closely and punctuated it with words of approbation and bursts of laughter when Caroline described how Adam had persuaded the French to return some of the food and wine they had taken from the villagers.

Embarrassed by her exaggerated praise, Adam excused himself and walked back to the clearing. He scanned the surrounding hills, then climbed a short distance up the path by which they had come and uttered a piercing two-note whistle. It died away into the cold morning air and he listened to the silence that followed. Then there was an echo, faint but unmistakable, and Adam's face broke into a grin. "Hawkins!" he shouted. "It's safe!"

Joaquin was disconcerted by Hawkins's arrival. No man, he said, should have come upon them unawares. Had the devil addled the brains of his sentinels? He stalked off, but his censure was quickly forgot in the wake of Emily's joy in being reunited with her friend. Emily was already a favorite with the company and they could not do too much to please her.

Adam was standing a little apart, watching them, when Victor appeared at his side. With one accord the two men moved toward the bank of the stream, the voices of the others fading behind them. "I've heard of you, Señor Durward," Victor said. "I do not tell the others because it is best they do not know too much about you. But I know you travel often behind the enemy lines."

"I do what I can."

"Yet you are not a soldier."

"No, I'm an aide to Sir Charles Stuart, the British Ambasador in Lisbon. But he finds it useful to send me to work with the general."

Victor's face broke into a smile. "The great Wellington. I have heard of some of the things you do, Adam Durward. You are a man of uncommon courage."

Uncomfortable at the turn of the conversation, Adam said, "You've been in the north."

"Yes. Above La Lora. In the Cantabrian mountains." Victor was silent a moment. "Our war goes well, Señor Durward, but not well enough. How soon will the English march?"

"Another six weeks, I would guess." Adam studied the other man. He was younger than he had expected, though his face bore the lines and fatigue that seemed common to all the
guerrilleros.
Cold and hunger and danger quickly took their toll. "How long since you have seen your wife and children?" Adam asked.

"Over a month." Victor's face softened. "It is too long, but what must be must be." He lifted his shoulders in a gesture that acknowledged the futility of defying fate, "I would have gone now to Acquera, but there is no time. I carry a message for the English general." He smiled. "A French dispatch which happened to fall into our hands. Tell me, Señor, you travel to Freneda?"

So this was the reason for their conversation. "You wish to come with us?" Adam said. "We would be grateful for your company."

"No, Señor, I wish you to carry the message for me. Then I can return to my comrades who need every man they can get." He grinned. "And I can make a short detour and pleasure my wife."

Adam laughed. "Your wife deserves much pleasure. She is a fine woman. She has been a great friend to Señora Rawley."

"Ah, that one. She has been a good friend to Adela. Take good care of her, Señor. And of the little one. I would die rather than see them come to harm."

"As would I." Adam held the other man's eyes. Carrying the message might pose some danger, but it was a small price to pay for Adela's kindness. "I will carry your message, Señor Soro, and you may go to your wife. Give her my blessing."

An hour later they left the camp. Their encounter with the
guerrilleros
had left Caroline badly shaken. She had been frightened when Gazin had entered her cottage, but the
guerilleros
had shown her just how vulnerable she was. She had thought of the Spaniards as friends, but she knew now that Spaniards could kill as easily as the French. She had been mad to bring Emily into Spain. It was a hasty, reckless act, like so many of the acts that had shaped her life, but for this one Emily was likely to pay the price.