Robert shook his head. "It's true enough. We didn't really press him, of course. Why should we? Anyway, he can certainly take advantage of a situation-which was how he got the dispatches." He smiled into her worried eyes. "You'll feel better when I tell you."

"I hope so. Frankly, I don't feel Joseph is any more fit to be on his own than Carlos."

"Oh, yes he is," Robert insisted. "At least Joseph doesn't look for trouble unless it's forced on him." Then he grinned. "But he is simple. It never occurred to him to lie low and come back to us with a pack of lies that he could blame on bad information others had given him-which is what I expected. He went off toward, of all places, Madrid, to find something to tell us."

"Oh my G.o.d," Esmeralda cried.

"Well, he apparently had been there before, and he had no way of knowing the French had taken the city. After all, we didn't know ourselves when he was here. He said it was the biggest city he had ever seen, and he decided, logically enough, that it would be the best place to get information." Robert paused and laughed. "I guess it's true that G.o.d takes care of babes and idiots. Apparently he got rides quite easily from people who pitied him. Anyway, he had been dropped at a posthouse at Valdestillos just when a mob of peasants recognized some poor French ADC, set on him, and murdered him. Joseph seems to have understood that all right because he hung around close by. The Spaniards put the dispatches aside while they were arguing about what to do with the body and dividing up the money, so Joseph just helped himself to them."

"But how did he know they were important?" Esmeralda asked in a wondering voice.

Robert laughed again. "It was the seals. To him, any paper with seals is important. My G.o.d, it could have been a deed to property or a list of promotions." He sighed and stretched. "Can you make some good strong tea for me, Merry? I've got to go out again. Everything's been changed around, of course. Sir John and Colborne are writing as fast as they can drive their pens, and the rest of us will be riding all over the landscape with new orders."

On December 14, loaded with gifts of food, money, and a st.u.r.dy mule, Joseph and Bear took their leave. Carlos wept bitterly into Bear's fur, and Esmeralda sniffled a trifle herself, as she scratched behind Bear's ears for the last time. However, she was as relieved as she was worried. Bear had been growing more and more sluggish as the year advanced into winter, and she knew it would not have been long before they could not rouse the animal and induce her to travel with them. Then they would have faced the agonizing choice of killing her or leaving her to fend for herself, possibly to be found and mistreated. All in all, letting Joseph go off seemed the least of the evils, particularly since he appeared happy and confident.

The next day they themselves set out toward their new destination. At first everything went very well. The weather had changed. The rain had stopped, though it was bitterly cold. For the army, the drop in temperature was mostly advantageous, as the roads, which had previously been sloughs of mud, hardened to a good marching surface. By December 20, they had gone as far north as Mayorga and connected with Baird's column. In addition, the cavalry had a series of minor successes, cutting off several detachments of French dragoons, capturing a colonel and more than one hundred men, even raiding into Valladolid itself, where a hundred hussars of the Eighteenth carried off the intendant of the province and three hundred thousand reals from the treasury.

The spirits of the whole army were high, but Robert was so busy that he did not spend a single night with Esmeralda, barely managing a flying visit or two along the route as he carried orders or messages. This was just as well, because he would have been worried sick if he had realized what his wife was enduring. Esmeralda was suffering bitterly from the cold, to which she was not accustomed. Her misery was increased by the fact that quarters on the road were dreadful and, on two nights, nonexistent. She spent those in the open, huddling with Molly and Carlos for warmth.

She managed not to complain, not so much from fear of being sent away now as from the realization that Robert probably could no longer arrange for her to be conveyed elsewhere. Again Molly was her model and support.

"If ye're an army woife, ye must no expec' inny better," Molly said with a wry grimace and a resigned shrug. "Fleas in summer 'nd freezin' in winter 's ye're lot fer loife. Thit, or stay hoom."

Chapter Twenty-Eight.

There was a hovel for them at Mayorga, with a shed at the back for the horses and mules. Esmeralda insisted that Molly and Carlos share it with her until Robert came in to sleep, if he did. And to Molly's argument that it was not proper, Esmeralda smiled wanly and retorted, "Perhaps not, but it's warm."

Under the circ.u.mstances the smell of the horses and mules might have been offensive, but Esmeralda's nose had ceased to function. Neither she nor any other member of the party had taken off the clothes they were wearing for a week. If Esmeralda gave the animals a thought, it was of grat.i.tude that they added a mite of warmth to the back wall and stood buffer against the wind. Firewood was scarce, and it had begun to snow. That they had any firewood at all was owing to Carlos's enterprise, for he picked up every stick he saw and tucked it into Luisa's pack.

Robert had no more time for his wife at Mayorga than before. To Moore's disappointment, Soult had not yet begun the advance into Leon ordered by the intercepted dispatch. He could only a.s.sume that no copy of those orders had reached Soult or that the French marshal had other reasons for remaining in the position to which the dispatch had been addressed. However, a light cavalry brigade was stationed at Sahagun, only nine miles from the pickets guarding the extreme front of the English lines.

Lord Paget, a highly enterprising officer, sent for permission to attempt a surprise, and Robert rode back with the messenger to observe the action. Sir John knew Lord Paget to be in deep personal trouble. It was most unlikely that so responsible an officer would lead his men into a disaster because of a private death wish, however, Sir John had a cautious streak and felt that Robert's presence might be reminder to Paget of his responsibilities.

Robert stopped at Esmeralda's quarters to change to his hussar uniform and was horrified, but he had no time to do more than say, "I'm sorry, Merry. If we stay, I'll see what I can do when I get back, but I don't think we'll be here for more than the one night."

In this a.s.sumption, Robert was correct. Lord Paget's action was a brilliant success-two lieutenant colonels, eleven other officers, and one hundred and fifty-seven men were taken prisoner, twenty were killed, and many were wounded at a cost of fourteen casualties for Paget's troops. More important, Sahagun was cleared of Soult's cavalry screen, and Moore's army moved forward on December 21. Here Esmeralda's quarters were a little better, but that did nothing to lift her spirits. Robert sent M'Guire to say that he was back safe, and strangely, Esmeralda was grateful that he did not come himself. It saved her from the necessity of putting a good face on her misery. But why she was so downspirited she had no idea. All she knew was that she felt weepy and irritable and sometimes even slightly nauseated.

She did her best to control herself, but she snapped at Carlos so often that he found duties to keep him in the stable despite the cold. Molly also got the sharp edge of Esmeralda's tongue. At first Molly a.s.sumed that the cold or the prospect of more fighting was upsetting her mistress's usually equable temper, but several times she found Esmeralda crying when she knew there could be no specific reason for tears, and that was completely unnatural. Mrs. Moreton, Molly thought, did not give way easily to tears.

Then a new idea occurred to her. Molly had not thought much about the fact that Esmeralda had been married since late July and had not conceived. Fine ladies, she understood, had their ways of preventing such things. When she was free of the child she was carrying, if Mrs. Moreton's mood improved, she might ask. But Molly suddenly recalled Esmeralda's failure to recognize her pregnancy and her mistress's confession of complete ignorance concerning so vital a female concern as childbearing. Molly wrinkled her brow in thought. When was the last time she had washed rags bloodied with Mrs. Moreton's "time"? It had not been recently. It had been...not since they were in Lisbon. Could that be right? But on thinking it over, Molly became certain. Not since Lisbon.

Once that was clear in her mind, Molly leaned back against the wall and looked speculatively at her mistress's back. Esmeralda was huddled near the fire, staring into the flames. Poor little creature, Molly thought, no wonder she was so interested in all the little details of carrying and bearing a child. And now she was frightened, poor little bird. Molly's eyes filled with tears, but not only for Esmeralda. She was worried herself. She was very near her time now, and although in general, childbearing held no terrors for her, the circ.u.mstances were not good. She had hoped they would remain in Salamanca, where she had excellent quarters, until the baby was born.

Molly had considerable military experience, having followed the drum for over fifteen years. It had seemed to her, since she was ignorant of the real situation, that it was too late in the season to begin a campaign. She glanced again at Esmeralda, leaning forward a little, and saw her mistress was crying again. Molly sighed. If Mrs. Moreton hadn't spoken of her private fears, it wasn't her place to push in where she wasn't wanted, but it seemed that two women with the same burden should comfort each other.

Another few minutes pa.s.sed in silence while Molly considered how very kind Mrs. Moreton had been. She had bought the mule and extra blankets and-Molly put up a hand to wipe the few drops from her cheeks-and even some special linen for the baby. It was true Mrs. Moreton knew her place and did not often invite familiarity, but she was not so high and mighty as some officers' wives. Molly watched the trembling shoulders. Surely Oi owe her a word o' comfort, she thought. 'Nd even if she doesno' wan' it, she will do no more thin not answer or tell me t' be quiet.

"It'll be long 'til yer toime, ma'am," Molly said softly. "Ye'll no be brought t' bed 'til Juloy, mebbe. Weel be in a better place thin. There's naught t' fear."

Esmeralda jerked upright and turned so sharply on her chair that she nearly tipped over. "What?" she asked.

The question was puzzled, but not bad tempered. Molly thought her mistress had not heard her because she had spoken so softly, and she repeated herself, enlarging on the fact that Esmeralda's baby would not be born until the early summer, an excellent time owing to the warmth. And, she added, the time was at least seven months away. Since Esmeralda did not check her and encouraged her, if not with words, then by wiping away her tears, Molly continued to talk about the event, a.s.suring her mistress that she would not be inconvenienced by the child for a long time, that there would be plenty of time even to go to England, if she should wish to do so, although Spain and Portugal both seemed to have healthy climates.

Meanwhile, Esmeralda's mind had been racing wildly, not over what Molly was now saying but over what she had said weeks before, in Salamanca. Now Esmeralda realized that she had been so concerned over many different things-Robert's inexplicable sadness, which had, thank G.o.d, disappeared, Bear, the prospect of more fighting, Molly's revelation of her pregnancy... A faint smile appeared on Esmeralda's lips. Goodness, what an idiot she had been. She had never noticed that her regular bleeding had stopped-of course, she had never paid much attention to it since it caused her no trouble-but she had not connected Molly's description of the early stages of pregnancy with herself.

Hastily, while Molly was rambling on about what she had heard of the dry, pleasant weather of the peninsula in the spring, Esmeralda made the same calculations that had convinced Molly her mistress was pregnant. Joy flooded her. She was carrying Robert's child! She nearly choked, suppressing the laughter at her own foolishness, but she would not admit that she had not recognized her condition. It would be too embarra.s.sing, after failing to recognize Molly's.

"So ye see," Molly was concluding, "there's no need t' fret yerself, an' Oi've heerd 'tis bad fer the choild."

"Oh dear," Esmeralda said, "then I must surely make an effort to be more cheerful."

At that moment it did not seem to her that it would take much effort at all. Molly had said nothing about feeling downhearted for the first month or two, but Esmeralda connected her depression with the mild nausea she had been experiencing. Now that she knew what it was, she was sure she could combat it. And for the remainder of that day, anyway, she was successful. She busied herself with their quarters, although she had almost given up hope of Robert joining her.

But thinking of him gave her a double qualm of fear. The first sent her to her baggage for a mirror, comb, and brush. Had she, in her senseless sadness, allowed herself to deteriorate in appearance? She was shocked at what she saw. Her face was dirty, and her hair looked like a rat's nest. Was that why Robert no longer spent his nights with her? She told herself it was ridiculous, that he and all the other ADCs were frantically busy because they were the links of communication that held the strung-out chain of the army together.

Nonetheless, a seed of doubt remained. Robert had not been too busy to come back to her in the early days in Portugal. She felt tears rising again over his neglect-and then wondered whether she really felt neglected or if this was another part of her recent unevenness of spirits. She fought down the self-pity and tried to consider the situation calmly, which brought her to the conclusion that Sir Arthur's army had been smaller, and Sir Arthur did not seem to change his mind so often or communicate so frequently with his general officers so that the ADCs had much less to do. Perhaps Sir Arthur's situation had been less critical-she could not judge that.

But thinking about the military situation brought a new problem to mind. Esmeralda knew that as soon as Robert heard of her pregnancy, he would move heaven and earth to get her away to England. As she washed her face and straightened her hair, she considered her state with considerable satisfaction. Surely Robert would request leave and take her home himself. Then he would be spared whatever dreadful battle was coming.

The trouble was that it would only be the one battle, Esmeralda was sure. And then she began to wonder whether if there was a battle in the offing, would Robert ask for leave? Would he not consider it his duty to remain? Sir John sent messengers to Lord Castlereagh with relative frequency. Would Robert send her off with one of those messengers to be delivered to his parents? No man who loved his wife would do that, she thought-and there were tears coming again, for she was not in the least sure that Robert loved her. A few times when they had started on his leave, before they had found Bear, it had seemed as if...

She was afraid to continue that line of thought, particularly in view of how little effort he had made these past few weeks to be with her. But how could any man be so cruel as to send her to strangers to bear his child? She would rather have Molly. And then it occurred to her that even if Robert took her to England, he would leave her there and himself return. And after the child was born-could she take an infant into a war zone? There was no question of it, the choice would not be hers. Robert would never permit it.

Esmeralda's emotions seesawed up and down, joy alternating with tears. At last, when heavy sobs began to shake her, she realized she was pushing herself into hysterics. If Robert came by and found her crying, she would have to confess. Esmeralda's thought checked, and so did her tears. There was no need to tell Robert of her pregnancy-not for months. He would not notice any change in her body, particularly, she thought wryly, if he did not share her bed.

Then she would not be sent to England. And who knew what would happen in two or three months? The war would probably not be over, but with the onset of really bad winter weather, there might be a hiatus. If there was no prospect of action, Robert would surely come to England with her. She rose briskly and washed her face once more to remove all trace of tears, vowing she would not permit herself to fall into the dismals again, and she did not, firmly controlling her impulses to lapse into lachrymose self-pity over her dilemma.

She had a double reward-at least, she thought of it that way for several days, although in the weeks ahead she had reason to change her mind. Not long after she, Molly, and Carlos had eaten, Robert did come in.

"It's all off," he said.

Esmeralda rose to her feet, putting aside the mending she had been doing. "You mean that Soult has retreated?" she asked, and then urged, "come to the fire. You look frozen."

"Not half so frozen as I will be." His lips were thin with anger and anxiety. "No, Soult hasn't retreated. The d.a.m.ned Spanish junta lied to us again-or maybe they just didn't know. We've just had word that Bonaparte himself is after us, not with eighty thousand troops, which the junta kept swearing was the full count of French in Spain, but with two hundred thousand. We have to run."

"We can be ready in half an hour," Esmeralda said calmly. Since she was convinced that nothing could be worse than what she had already endured-and survived-she was not frightened.

Robert looked at her blankly for just a moment, then his eyes cleared, and he came forward to the fire, smiling and reaching for her. "My dear," he sighed, "you never fail me. But there's no need to fly this moment. Boney's army isn't at our door. We may have to make some very long marches, but we are in no real danger."

Quite certain now that there was virtually no chance of a battle taking place, Esmeralda felt free to express regret at the lost opportunity. For this very false sentiment, she was fondly kissed and praised.

"I'm d.a.m.ned sorry we couldn't smash Soult's division before we had to run, too," he said, sitting down on the chair opposite Esmeralda's and holding out his hands to the flames, but speaking much more cheerfully. "Still and all, in a way we've accomplished our purpose. With Bonaparte rushing north after us, it won't be possible for him to send any armies to southern Spain. The Spanish will be able-I hope-to train some troops so that they can fight, and equip them so that they have something to fight with, poor sods. Anyhow," he smiled grimly, "I'll bet we've messed up Boney's plans. He won't be able to do much more until spring, and by then we'll be ready for him."

By spring... Esmeralda's throat tightened, but she managed to nod and ask steadily, "Will we retreat to Portugal?"

"No, there's no chance of that," Robert said, looking troubled again. "The French can too easily cut us off from the roads west. We will go north toward Corunna. There are magazines of supplies in various towns along those roads. I don't think it will be too difficult, but to tell the truth, Merry, I'm concerned about the men."

"The army, you mean? But if there are supplies, why should you worry about them?" She was considerably surprised. The men, she a.s.sumed, did what they were ordered to do, and it seemed to her they should be delighted with orders that would save them from a battle, "They don't like to retreat," Robert explained. "I've seen this problem before."

"They don't like to retreat?" Esmeralda echoed, confused by what, to her, was irrational. "You mean they like the prospect of being killed or wounded?"

That drew a short laugh from Robert. "Not that, but they like the prospect of beating the French. No one else has done it, and they have. Those who were at Rolica and Vimeiro have been strutting around like heroes, and all the others are just burning to match or overmatch them." He shrugged. "And it will be worse this time because they don't understand why we are retreating. Had they fought and been beaten, they would have understood the need to withdraw to re-form, but we haven't been beaten. Even if they had a sight of the enemy and realized the odds were overwhelming-but all they've heard about is Lord Paget's cavalry exercise, and that was a flaming success."

"But surely the officers could pa.s.s the word about the new information."

"I don't know what Sir John will decide about that. But even if he decides to make the information public, it might not help." He shrugged. "I don't know why, but there's something about retreat that kills the men's spirits."

"I'm sorry," Esmeralda offered. There was sympathy in her voice, but it was for Robert's worry. She did not connect what he was saying with herself in any way.

"Well, it depends on the officers and the discipline, but sometimes there are disorders, and I don't want you caught up in anything like that, Merry."

"Me!" She was about to say that the men were always pleasant and respectful to her, but she suddenly remembered how they had become drunk and unruly during those early days in Portugal.

"There's nothing to worry about, my dear," Robert a.s.sured her quickly. "I just wanted to explain why I've changed your marching position. You will now ride with the Coldstream Guards. The first battalion's commanded by Lieutenant Colonel c.o.c.ks and the second by Wheatley. There won't be any trouble among the Guards, and you know Wheatley and c.o.c.ks, don't you?"

"I have met them, of course," Esmeralda said, controlling her voice with difficulty, "but I am sure they will not wish to be enc.u.mbered with-"

"I've spoken to them already. Both have said they would be delighted to have you join them. I'm sending M'Guire along with you, too."

Delighted to have her, indeed! What else could the poor men say, since they were gentlemen? Wasn't that what they called the Guards-"the Gentlemen's Sons"? Could they refuse to watch over a fellow gentleman's wife? A tide of fury rose in Esmeralda at the thought that she was to be thrust on two near-strangers, handed over like a parcel to be placed in storage. That was all she was to Robert, still-an inconvenient burden.

"And where will you be?" she asked icily. "Where will you be while Colonel Wheatley and Colonel c.o.c.ks see to my well-being?"

"I'm not altogether sure," Robert said.

He was aware that Esmeralda was upset by his answer, but he did not want to tell her that he had been detached to remain with Lord Paget and the rear guard. She would guess there would be fighting and would worry-whether she loved him or not, he was necessary to her. He knew, too, that Esmeralda was having a hard time and that there was very little he could do for her. Sir John's accommodations were no better than hers.

Robert blamed himself bitterly for selfishly having allowed her to follow him just because he wanted her near, for letting himself forget what a winter campaign could be like. He thought Esmeralda might be angry for the same cause, but too just to accuse him because she herself had wanted to come. Each time he thought of that, of the clever way she had obtained tacit permission from Sir John without even raising the question, as if it had long been decided, it lifted his spirits. She could have stayed in Lisbon if she were afraid to go alone to England. It must be for his sake that she had arranged to follow him to Spain.

He looked across at her and s.e.xual urgency swept him. How long had it been since they had slept together? More than a week, anyway. d.a.m.n Moore! He said, "Merry-" and reached toward her, but she did not look up from the mending, to which she had returned her attention, and he became aware of how pinched and pale she was. She must be exhausted. It would be unfair to thrust himself on her.

Besides, he was scarcely a sweet object to take into bed. He stank of horse and sweat and mud, and it was out of the question to bathe and change. Even if he had time, which he did not-in fact, he should be on his way right now-he would spend the afternoon riding all over with orders and getting himself filthy again. It made more sense to stay in the dirty clothes. He stood up abruptly, knowing that if he stayed a moment longer he would have her in his arms and be quite incapable of stopping.

"You'll leave tomorrow with whichever battalion marches first. I've arranged for c.o.c.ks or Wheatley to send a man for you. Stay with the Guards, Merry. That way, if the baggage train goes or the other corps start to straggle, I'll know where to find you."

"Very well, Robert," she replied, her depression making her nurse her resentment to hold back tears.

He stood a moment, irresolutely, duty fighting desire. If she had looked up, he would have been lost, but she did not, and duty won.

Resentment, however unhealthy, is a great stiffener of the spine, as Esmeralda knew well. It was resentment against her father that had permitted her to keep her soul intact and outwit him, too. Now resentment preserved her from drooping, and she greeted with a smile the young subaltern, one of Colonel Wheatley's ADCs, who came to guide her to her place in General Baird's column.

He arrived at about ten o'clock in the morning, his boyish face wearing an anxious expression, which cleared to astonishment when he realized that everything was packed and ready to be loaded. Obviously he had expected the worst, perhaps that there were no pack animals or that he would have to supervise the packing himself, for he explained, in some embarra.s.sment, that he had actually come rather too early. The column would not begin to move until noon.

"Well, then," Esmeralda said lightly, "we will have time for a luncheon. We are experienced marchers, you know, and everything is to hand."

They ate and chatted pleasantly, the young man growing more relaxed by the moment as he became convinced that his task was not nearly so onerous as he had originally thought. He looked anxious again when he saw Molly, now unmistakably heavy with child, but he shrugged off that worry. Molly was no business of his, particularly since her husband was with her. His duty was to see that Mrs. Moreton was safe and as comfortable as circ.u.mstances would permit.

It was an auspicious beginning, and from Esmeralda's point of view, the weather cooperated at first. There was a thaw on Christmas Eve, warm enough to melt much of the snow they had had. Since they were accompanying infantry, Boa Viagem was not hard pressed, but it was heavy going for those afoot. The roads were little better than bogs. Christmas Day pa.s.sed drearily as they slowly but steadily progressed on their wet journey, but by the next day the thaw and the continuous rain had made the pa.s.sage of the Esla River, which they crossed at Valencia de Don Juan, rather dangerous. However, Esmeralda's party was ferried across without trouble, and fortunately there were few accidents.

By this time Esmeralda, who had had a good deal of the young subaltern's company and conversation, had begun to realize that Robert was not simply trying to pa.s.s off the burden of protecting her and knew what he was doing. Even among so well disciplined a group as the Guards, the men were surly, and when they reached Astorga on December 29, Esmeralda heard that the behavior in the other divisions had been much worse. Men had broken ranks to seize food in towns without waiting for the distribution of rations which were available. The countryside being virtually dest.i.tute of wood, the men had torn down sheds and doors and even broken into houses to seize furniture with which to build their bivouac fires. In Benavente, the castle of the d.u.c.h.ess of Ossuna had been villainously damaged, the precious medieval furniture broken up to burn, the priceless tapestries torn down, and the porcelain friezes and alcoves wantonly destroyed.

Thus far, the subaltern remarked, trying to conceal his pride in the superior behavior of his own unit, there had been few outrages against persons, but if the officers did not control the troops better, that would come, too. Had Robert appeared at Astorga, Esmeralda would have greeted him with far more warmth than she had offered when they parted. She thought often about him, sometimes worrying, sometimes dwelling on how she would tell him, when it seemed safe to do so, of the child she carried.

Robert, however, did not give Esmeralda a thought. He was enjoying himself enormously, for he was in almost constant action from the time he joined Lord Paget. The cavalry was having a far more thrilling time than dully plodding through mud and rain. They and the two light brigades that remained at Sahagun had so successfully hara.s.sed Soult's advance forces that the marshal was left in doubt on December 24 as to whether he was about to be attacked. He hesitated until the twenty-sixth, and even after the pursuit began, the cavalry and light divisions continued their rearguard action so successfully that the main body of the army was completely unmolested. And, on December 28, they pulled off a magnificent coup, breaking a charge by about five or six hundred cha.s.seurs of the Guard and capturing their commander.

It had been rumored that Sir John would stand and fight at Astorga. There were plentiful supplies at no great distance, the town itself was walled, and although it could not be held long against forces so much superior to their own, there was a formidable range of mountains rising behind, cut only by two narrow and easily defensible pa.s.ses. The rumors were false. Not only was there no attempt to hold the pa.s.ses beyond Astorga, but the army did not even remain long enough in that place to distribute the huge ma.s.ses of stores acc.u.mulated there. Part of the problem was the inevitable inefficiency of all armies, but a great deal more was owing to the growing disorder among the troops. M'Guire, having been out trying to get shoes for himself, Molly, and Carlos, reported that hearing they were to retreat again had exasperated the men to the last degree. He warned Esmeralda to remain indoors and stood guard at their door, gun in hand.

There was never any danger for Esmeralda. Before dark a detachment of Guards was at her service, and both Colonel c.o.c.ks and Colonel Wheatley came to bear her company at dinner and on into the evening. Nonetheless, Esmeralda was distressed. She was bitterly ashamed that British troops should misbehave in such a fashion. Unfortunately, the little she saw and heard in Astorga was only the beginning of a long nightmare.

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

By December 30, when Esmeralda and the main body of the army left Astorga, the thaw was over. Rain had begun to change to snow, but on that day and the next, there was not enough to cause serious inconvenience. It was at Bembibre, on the evening of the thirty-first, when the trouble began. The village, unfortunately, was a local depot for the storage of wine, and marauders from the angry, disheartened troops found their way into the vaults and cellars.

On the morning of January 1, 1809, nearly a thousand men were drunk and incapable. A few companies of the Guards were called out to attempt to rouse the stragglers. Not one Guardsman was among the bodies strewn in the streets and the houses of the village. A combination of vigilant officers and a strong sense of pride kept them free of such excesses while on duty. Esmeralda's party was attached to one of the companies called out, not by chance but because it was one of the smartest and best disciplined. However, since she and her companions gave so little trouble, no one had remembered to order her on ahead in the emergency.

Thus, she watched with horror as men were lifted and shaken, beaten and dragged, in an effort to rouse them. Only a few responded. At last, the order was given to abandon those who could not or would not stir. If they could not be roused by the rear guard, which was a day behind, they would have to be abandoned to the French. As it was, the Guards companies that had been delayed in getting the stragglers moving had to step out smartly to catch up with their regiment.

Moving with them as they pa.s.sed other regiments to overtake their own, Esmeralda saw further results of the breakdown in spirit that Robert had predicted. Many of the companies were preceded by a motley group who broke from the road whenever they were attracted by something they thought worth stealing. Behind came others, limping or sick or simply unwilling to keep pace.

But the disorders on the march were nothing compared with the scenes Esmeralda witnessed after they arrived in Villa Franca, Sir John's most important depot for military supplies. Sir John had ordered these to be burnt because there was no transport capable of carrying them off and because he had given up all notions of opposing the French. With the last hope of facing their enemies gone, most of the troops became openly mutinous at the idea of all the food and drink being wantonly destroyed. They broke into the magazines and began to load themselves with everything they could carry.

Hurrying through one square, Esmeralda saw a company break ranks despite their officers, who actually drew their swords and slashed at them. At the next crossing, M'Guire called out that Molly could go no farther. Esmeralda pulled Boa Viagem to a stop, and the entire group moved into the side street to be out of the way of the steadily marching Guards while Carlos and M'Guire rearranged the packs so that Molly could ride. Before M'Guire had lifted her to the saddle pad, two soldiers, already drunk on the rum that had been in the stores, staggered into the street demanding the two mules.

M'Guire's gun was slung on his shoulder, but the two drunks were in fact far less prepared to enforce their demand, since their arms were full of bottles and bags. Carlos slipped around under Luisa's nose and knocked the legs from under one, while M'Guire hit the other in the face. There was a roar of outrage from several other equally drunken men who were just turning the corner. By then, however, M'Guire had his gun at the ready, and Carlos had his knife out. The renegades paused, none of them quite drunk enough to want to take M'Guire's shot.

Esmeralda held her breath. It was an ugly situation. Once M'Guire fired, the gun was useless, except as a club, because the men were too close to give him time to reload or to fix his bayonet. But then she heard the regular tramp of marching feet. Uttering a shrill scream and simultaneously bringing her whip down on Boa Viagem's croup, Esmeralda drove her mare right through the group into the main road, knocking two men to the ground. A Guards officer was already turning toward the disturbance. In another two minutes the incident was over, but Esmeralda was terribly shaken.

It was not that she had been so very frightened. There had hardly been time enough for shock and surprise to turn to fear. However, she could not dismiss the incident from her mind as she had dismissed the attack of the French soldier at Rolica. He was an enemy, and it was natural that he should attack her to seize what he wanted. That English soldiers should do so turned her world upside down. She had not forgotten that Robert had warned her and had placed her in the care of the Guards battalions to avoid just such a situation, but she had never really believed it could happen.

Seeing how white and strained she was, the officer had remained with her, had seen her to her quarters, and had obviously reported the incident to his superior officer, for Colonel Wheatley himself had come not half an hour later. He had apologized for the failure of his men to protect her and a.s.sured her it would not occur again. He was most sincere. Nonetheless, Esmeralda cried herself to sleep that night. No matter if a thousand Guards surrounded her, they could not give her security. She wanted Robert.

She was not to have him. Robert was only six miles away with Lord Paget, but the French were hard on their heels and Robert could not ask for leave, although he did think of Esmeralda. He had been thinking about her for the last few days. Several times in the past week he had escaped serious injury or death by very narrow margins, and it had occurred to him that, if he were killed, she would never know that he had loved her.

When the notion had first come to him, he thought that would be all for the best, not that he should be killed but that if he were, Merry should be completely free of him. But Robert found he could not bear the idea. He wanted Merry to remember him and to cherish that memory. And, as the French cavalry and dragoons came into sight, he cursed the fixation on military duty that had made him leave her that last night without a word or touch of love.