His Magic Touch

"You know I'm not a miracle worker," Jesse said.

"Oh, I think you are," Nell said, sighing. "Could you scratch my right shoulderblade?" He did, and she sighed again. "A little lower. Oh, lovely."

He made great progress on the area around her neck, marveling at the lightness ofher bones and the softness of her back. A hospital steward had remarked to him thatElinore Mason had such a fragile air about her. You're so right, Jesse thought, as heexpertly manipulated her shoulders through her nightgown. He knew the resiliency ofthe human body as well as any surgeon, but he still felt reluctant to press too hard.Even if he were permitted to grow old and cranky with her, he would always wonderhow she preserved that gentleness. What is it about women? he asked himself. Or atleast, what is it about this woman?

The

Wedding JourneyCarla Kelly

A SIGNET BOOK

SIGNET

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"This book is lovingly dedicated to the surgeons

in Wellington's Marching Hospitals"

One must always get over heavy ground as lightly as possible."

—Sir Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington

PrologueCaptain Jesse Cameron Randall, assistant surgeon of MarchingHospital Number Eight, was no lover of paperwork, but he hadno trouble declining an invitation from his brother officers todrink up the dead ration that always signaled the beginning of aretreat. Even using the argument that the bottles would be anencumbrance, it struck him as unseemly to polish off the liquorand wine belonging to officers who had died during the

campaign. Somehow, toasting "Glorious War" and then downingthe booze of dead men smacked of more hypocrisy than he caredto tote about.

Besides, everyone would be required to give a toast. Yes, he wasshy, but more than that, his quiet toast of "Do no harm," haddampened other such gatherings. Do no harm. Eight years ago in1804, with another company of practitioners, he had recited theHippocratic Oath in the cathedral adjacent to the University ofMilan. It was his own toast to death, and after all these years, hehad drunk his fill of it. He preferred to stay under Number Eight'scanvas and finish his reports.

Thinking of hypocrisy, he smiled to himself, and knew he was thebiggest hypocrite in Wellington's Peninsular army. Paperwork bedamned; he wanted to keep Nell Mason in view. Elinore OpheliaMason, to be accurate, he amended, a grandiose name for thecompact young lady preparing a plaster at the other end of thetent. He loved her. Even the occasional glance in her directionwas balm in Gilead, here on the outskirts of boring, disgusting,irritating Burgos. He knew it was love; he never doubted it.

Rain had thundered down for three days now, dratted rain.Somewhere in normally parched Spain, he was certain there werefarmers lighting candles in gratitude. He took no pleasure in it,not after a frantic camp follower had rushed into Number Eightyesterday, carrying her toddler, blue and suffocated from fallingin the mud and unable to right herself. He had tried for an hour toresuscitate the little one, long after the chief surgeon, MajorSheffield, gave his shoulder a shake. He hated the mud.

The only bright spot in the whole, dismal affair was his relief thatNell didn't see him fail. Her own mother was ill with camp fever.By the time she learned of the incident from Dan O'Leary, chiefhospital steward, the baby had already been taken to the deadtent. She had cried anyway.

Jess put down his dip pen. Rain had first called his attention toNell Mason seven years ago in Canada, his first posting with thedivision. In autumn on a rainy day much like this one, he hadwatched two children digging in the mud by their tent. Tired fromduty in the fever tent, it had taken him awhile to realize that theywere trying to spade out a trench around the family tent to keepthe rain out.

Major Sheffield had come over to stand beside him, and swore."Blast and damn! Why can't Bertie Mason look after his own?"In a moment he had summoned two privates from Number Eightto dig the trench. The boy was frankly embarrassed and duckedhis head. The girl gathered her soaking cloak around her andpicked her way to stand beside Sheffield, inclining her headtoward him for a small moment and then hurrying away.

"You wait, now," Sheffield had told him as they removed theircloaks later in their tent. "Tomorrow there will be a littlesomething just inside the tent."

Sure enough, when he had opened the tent flap in the morning, hestared down at a blue bead, which he handed to Sheffield. With asmile, the chief surgeon took out a strand of similar beads froman inside pocket, unknotted the string, and added it. "She isscrupulous about paying for help," he had said, then held up thelittle necklace to the light. "When I feel all puffed up, I like topull this out and think about the widow's mite. Help'um when youcan, lad. No one else will."

That was his introduction to the Masons and endless camp gossipabout Bertram and Audrey Mason, two sillies with no moreincome than a captain of foot, who lived precariously one stepahead of their creditors. In that hypocrisy peculiar to the officercorps, he had watched officers' wives ignore Audrey Mason, andadmonish their children not to play with Will or Nell.

Even now, eight years and a continent later, he remembered

when the blue beads ran out. He had left the butt end of a roast,crispy-cooked, outside the Masons' tent, something hardly worthmentioning. In the morning, Nell had come to Number Eight intears, brushing past him to stand before his superior, who kneltbeside her.

"I have no more beads, sir," she had whispered to Sheffield whileJesse eavesdropped shamelessly.

The starkness of that memory made him pick up the pen again tocontinue the death report. Then he put it down, not sure, evenafter eight years, which was the lesser of two evils. In his ownyouth, or ignorance, he had almost told the Chief to give her backthe beads, so the game could begin again. A closer look told himvolumes about the character of the little girl standing so close toSheffield. The matter was deeply real to her. The realization ofjust how much the Mason children needed the surgeons' littlefavors came like a slap.

As he watched, Sheffield had eased himself onto a stool and tookNell on his lap. "I have a better idea," he told her. "You can cometo work for me. We're always in need of a good sweeping out,and Will could carry rubbish to the burn pit."

She nodded, the shame gone, but replaced by hesitation. "I mightbe afraid," she said.

"No need, lass," the Chief had told her. "You and Will may onlycome here when I say so." He seemed to understand herhesitation. "I need your help! So does our good king."

Jesse had watched in amusement then as she seriously consideredSheffield's adroit appeal to her patriotism.

"You are certain?"

"Never more so. You must come when either I or CaptainRandall here call you."

She had nodded and left the tent then. Sheffield held up his hand,ready to ward off an argument. "Jesse, don't tell me they'll beseeing life in the rough in Number Eight! They will be warm hereand dry, and we always have food, even when Bertie Masongambles away his pay."

"But ..."

Sheffield only shook his hand, the gesture as clear as yesterday toJess as he sat staring at the papers in front of him. "Noarguments! A marching hospital is not a bad place to grow up.You might, too. Stranger things have happened."

Chapter OneI must ask you, Chief, if I grew up, he thought, returning to hispaperwork. He stirred the ink, cursed the titans of red tape, and

glanced down the tent to Nell Mason, eighteen now, as shewarmed a bit of plaster on the portable hob. Two parts each ofpowdered lead monoxide, pork lard, and olive oil, he thought,

and one part Nell Mason.

He got up and walked the length of the tent to observe as sheefficiently rolled the plaster pill around the hob with a woodenspatula until it was the right consistency. She flipped it onto thelittle slab of marble, then flattened it onto the two layers of gauzethat he obligingly anchored with his fingers. Two strokesmeasured the precise thickness. She looked at him then. "ShouldI?"

"Of course," he told her. "Private Hornsby would be dasheddisappointed if I applied that plaster, Nell. He might decline anddie."

She laughed. "Doctor, no one dies from a plaster!"

He smiled, and watched as she sat on a stool by the lucky private.Carefully she drew the edges of the wound together, then appliedthe little plaster down its length. While she held the plaster inplace as it hardened, she kept up a soothing conversation with theprivate, which rendered him speechless with shyness.

When the little plaster was hard and firmly in place to Nell'ssatisfaction, she stood up, and remained there a moment, herhands together. Jess smiled. The private practically writhed like apuppy under her calm gaze. When she could see nothing else todo, she twitched up the blanket a little higher around the man'sshoulders, then returned to her perch by the medicine chest.

He hadn't been around to watch her turn from a fetching little girlinto a lovely woman. Before another month was out in Canada,Jess found himself on a frigate bound for Jamaica with a portionof the division. The rest of Picton's Third had been posted toPortugal after Boney started taking such an interest in the place.Like the others in Jamaica, Jess chafed to follow the action. Thecall came finally.

He went home to Dumfries briefly, grateful to be free of thefeverish islands after four years. He happily became reacquaintedwith his parents, admired the family estates, kilted up and danceda jig with his older brothers and their pretty wives. He couldn'ttell them why he liked his army life, so different from their ownquiet ways; they never expected much eloquence from him, so ithardly mattered.

His arrival in Lisbon couldn't have been better timed. Wellingtonand his army were chafing behind the lines of Torres Vedras,eager for spring and another chance at the French. There was theinevitable typhus to contend with, and what David Sheffieldalways called "stupid wounds" from an army careless and tired ofinaction.

And there was Nell Mason again. He had thought of her now andthen in Jamaica. Sheffield had given him a blue bead from hisstash when he left Canada for Jamaica, with the mild reminder tolook at it occasionally and remember to help others.

He had met Sheffield in Lisbon, and spent a pleasant eveningdrinking port and catching up on division news. "Will and Nell?"he asked finally.

Sheffield leaned back and shook his head when the waiteroffered more port. "Will's at Cambridge."

"What? Surely Bertie Mason never came out of an alcoholicstupor and noticed that he had a son with brains?"

"Alas, no. Bertie's parents told their son that they would educateWill, perhaps in the hope that he might amount to something." Hestared at the port remaining in his glass. "He won't disappointthem." He sighed. "Nell cried to see him go."

"Surely she's married by now? Or maybe not. She's but sixteen,eh?"

"Aye, lad. No, she's not married, even though she is the prettiestlittle thing."

"Why ever not, then?" Jess remembered her earnest blue eyes,and the intense way she swept the tent, as though the fate ofnations depended upon it. Charming in that way ofeleven-year-olds, but he couldn't really see her as grown up.

"Would you want Bertie Mason for a father-in-law?"

"Good God, no," Jess said fervently. "Poor Nell."

"You understand." Sheffield leaned back with a sigh. "Nowyou're going to ask me if she still sweeps out the hospital tent."

"I suppose I am," he said, amused.

"She does more," Sheffield said simply. "At Talavera, I had such

need of her."

"God, no!" Still in Scotland, peacefully fishing his father'sfavorite stream, he had heard of Talavera: three days of heat anddeath, with fires licking at the wounded.

"The assistant surgeon who replaced you froze and couldn't do adamned thing," Sheffield said, his eyes stern with the memory."Dan O'Leary—you remember my steward?—edged him asideand took over, and Nell took Dan's place with me."

Jess was quiet for a long moment. "It's so irregular."

"It's damned irregular!" End of outburst. Looking slightlyembarrassed, Sheffield, stared down again. He spoke after a longmoment. "We've been training her to do Dan's little jobs, and he'sbeen assisting me. I know you're here now, but I want Dan tohelp both of us. He has the gift, lad, same as you."

It was a compliment of blinding proportions, unlooked for, and inJess's opinion, undeserved, but he knew better than to protest.Savor the moment, Jesse, he told himself with a smile. You knowthat Sheffield will be on you first thing in the morning for someinfraction or other.

Or maybe not, he thought, as he looked at his mentor. Maybe Idid grow up. He thought about the earnest little girl heremembered. And maybe I should allow Elinore Ophelia Masonthe same opportunity.

Sheffield was right, he had discovered the next morning, when heentered the little church housing Marching Hospital NumberEight. There was Dan O'Leary grinning at him, hair as red asever, Irish eyes bright with good humor, looking six years older,but none the worse for wear. And there was Nell grown up,smiling at him and coming forward with her hand outstretched.She gave him a firm handshake; as he looked into her blue eyes,he knew he would never love another.

It was that simple. His university training in Milan, that mother ofuniversities, had taught him to be skeptical and to trust nothing hecould not prove. But here was Nell standing before him, notmuch taller than before, but with a womanly shape now,possessing an indefinable something even medical training couldnot explain. He knew that he could never leave her again.

It was more than the way she looked, and he knew it, even as headmired the beautiful woman before him. She was quiet, buteverything about her was confident and capable. Her own lovelycharacter sparkled before him, and it spoke louder than words.He knew how good this woman was, because he knew the childinside her.

So the matter stood for two years: the triumph of Bus-saco, thenback to the lines of Torres Vedras, through grubby sieges atBadajoz, that damned town, the storming of the walls at CiudadRodrigo, then on to the brilliance of Salamanca. He looked, headmired, but looming behind Nell like a cloud was Bertie Mason,all smiles and trouble, and Jess's own shyness.

He admitted it. He chafed at his shyness. Even more, he chafedat his inability to find a moment for Nell and no one else. Whenhe chose his life's work, he knew that he would be busy, but hehadn't counted on Napoleon's genius for stirring up Europe. Therewas no balance in his world of war, and Jess knew he neededtime he would never have to convince Nell of his devotion. Hedecided that war was no place to woo.

Not that he didn't seriously consider courtship with Eli-nore,despite the terrors of Bernie Mason as a potential father-in-law.He even went so far one day early in the Burgos siege, when hehad a free fifteen minutes, as to park himself in front of themirror for an assessment. He knew he had enough height toplease ladies fond of tall men. His hair was that shade of red thepeople were prone to call handsome, because it was dark insteadof carrot-colored. What a relief not to be mistaken for a root

crop, he thought, and smiled to himself. He frowned in the mirrornext, wondering why an ordinarily merciful God had chosen himto have curly hair, which was such a bother on campaign becausehis comb always went right to the bottom of his trunk and stayedthere, resisting all discovery.

His face was just a face. He had grown up among thin-lipped,tight-nosed folk, Scots frugal physically as well as economically.One of the first things he had noticed about Spain was the full lipsof the Spanish beauties, whether flower girl or marquesa. Everthe anatomist, he admired the deepset, dark eyes of men andwomen alike, and the effect of a nose with character. Ah, well.At least his teeth were all his own, with none of the gaps he sawin the local population. He knew his mother would credit that tooats for breakfast.

The mirror was small, but he backed away from it and turnedsidways. He patted his waist, noting that it was especially easy tomaintain a flat stomach during a siege. No one was well-fed oneither side of the walls of Burgos, except the regimentalquartermaster. Suspicious, that. He sat down again in front of themirror. His father and brothers were all lean men, too; he had noreason to fear that he would someday run to fat and make hiswife uncomfortable.

With growing impatience—and the realization that it was almosttime to administer powders to the fever patient in cot three—hestared at himself. You, sir, who are so eloquent when describingdiagnoses and prognoses, tighten up like a clam when a healthyfemale is within at least a three-hundred-yard radius. You, sir,who can deliver babies, and deal with private female functionswithout a blush or murmur, turn into a bumbler when adisease-free lady even glances in your direction. Too bad younever learned a remedy for shyness at the University of Milan.

He turned away from the mirror in disgust.

And now it was Burgos in late autumn, only one tantalizing riveraway from the French Pyrenees, but too far. They would begin aretreat soon and retrace their steps of summer throughSalamanca, and back to Portugal. He did not fancy it, but hefancied Burgos even less, and the dismal little village close bywhere the regiment was quartered. Here Number Eight waitedwith its military cover for the retreat.

He looked up from his paperwork to see David Sheffield glaringdown at him. "Yes, I'm wasting time," he said. "There issomething about reports, especially this one." He gestured at thepaper in front of him, the one describing the death of the toddleryesterday.

Sheffield rested his hand on Jess's shoulder for a brief moment."Just finish it, Jess," he said gently.

He did as Sheffield directed, his heart heavy, then looked aroundthe tent, soothing himself with the order he saw. As a reward, hegave himself permission to seek out Nell Mason with his eyes.She was scraping lint with Dan O'Leary, no one's favorite job.The lint would be stretched into long rolls and sandwichedbetween sheets of paper, ready for use at the next battle. The lintclung to everything; Jess was sure he could taste it in his food,lurking among slabs of dreary beef and great whacking hunks ofsquash.

Nell must have sensed he was looking at her, because she turnedhis way and nodded. "Join us?" she teased, holding up a fistful oflint. He could see it in her dark hair.

"In a word, no." He smiled at her. "You know how I love mypaperwork."

They both laughed. Then he stopped, put down his pen, and rose,every nerve on edge, because Major William Bones had enteredthe tent. A chair scraped behind him, and he knew that Dan wason his feet, too, not out of deference but caution.

He also knew that Dan stood for the same reason. There wassomething about the way the major looked at Nell Mason that setoff warning bells jangling inside his head. He had never reallyvoiced the matter with Dan; it was something they understood.

Curious about instinct: every man who came into the tentunconsciously sought out Nell Mason with his eyes. In their hardworld of bad water, poor quarters, seething latrines, and terroraround the next hill, beauty was as rare as roses in January. Afterhis return to the regiment, Jess learned quickly that most menwanted to look and admire. With Bones it was different. "It's likehe takes her clothes off with his eyes" was the only commentDan O'Leary had ever made about the matter.

And I don't? Jess had thought at the time, and wasted a uselessevening contemplating the sin of hypocrisy. Even his overactiveconscience had to yield to the fact that Major Bones was an uglycustomer. I have cleaned up after your too-frequent floggings, hethought, even as he watched the man now. No telling what youwould do to a woman, given enough rage or spite. So he stood up,keeping himself between the major and Nell, even as Daniel did.

"Afternoon, gentlemen. Miss Mason."

Jess winced. Anyone else saying that would sound perfectlyunexceptionable, except that Dan O'Leary was no gentleman,which rendered the salutation condescending, even cruel. "Major,may we help you?" he forced himself to say.

"How many of my men in your hospital?"

"Three, sir," he replied, relieved to turn to medicine. "Jenks therewith a chest wound. It's healing now, but it's slow." He couldhave said so much more about the hours and hours afterSalamanca at the private's bedside, patiently reinflating his chestwhen his lungs collapsed, but he did not. "Holmes' boils are aboutto head. I think he'll be able to put on his trousers again in a fewdays. I am going to discharge Lewiston tomorrow."

"Make it now," Bones said. He stalked over to Holmes and flungback the blanket to look at the chafing boils on his thighs. "Getyour pants on, Private." Bones grinned at Jess. "I expect whenGranny Sheffield gets back from Officers Call, he'll have newsfor all of you. We're retreating,"

Jesse held his breath as the major took a long look at Nell, thenbrushed past her—she tried to step back, but he was too close—to stand over Jenks. The private looked up at him with terrifiedeyes. "Jenks, I think you're a dead man. Too bad, but there youare."

"Major, there's no call for that," Jess said. "We will take care ofhim."

"Oh, you will? Going to keep that ox cart from bumping him allover creation? Unlike you, little man, I am a realist."

You're a sadist, Jess thought. Jenks began to hyperventilate,taking greater and greater gulps of air into his sorely tried lungs.Daniel hurried toward the small bellows hanging on the closesttent post. Nell seemed rooted to the ground, and he knew thenhow great her own terror was.

Bones laughed. He went to brush past Nell again, but she movedaway. He stopped, standing too close, but not touching her. "MissMason, I hear your mother is ill. Pity, considering how busy ourdear Bertie will be soon. Who's to look after you?"

"We will, Major. How dare you bully my staff." Jess said itquietly enough, and almost surprised himself with the menacebehind his words.

It was enough menace to distract Bones from Nell, who had goneas white as a new bandage. Jess took a deep breath as Boneswalked the length of the tent to where he still stood beside hisdesk. "I don't care for your tone, Captain," he said when theywere practically toe-to-toe.

Don't imagine for a moment that I won't stare you down, Jessthought. How dare you? After a long moment—Jess wasn't surehe was even breathing—the major turned away. "Hurry up,Holmes!" he shouted to the man struggling into his trousers."Lewiston, help him, you sorry sod!"

He turned back quickly, swung his hand, and tipped over theinkwell on the reports. "Watch yourself, Surgeon." After anotherlong look at Nell, who was helping Daniel with the bellows, heleft the tent.

Swearing under his breath, Jess ran to Jenks' cot and held hishands while his steward continued to work the bellows. Nell ranto fetch a cool cloth. She dipped it in vinegar, their onlyantiseptic, and wiped it across the terrified soldier's forehead ashe struggled to breathe.

"It's all right, Private, we know what to do," Jess said, keeping hisvoice soft. "You just have to know by now that we will neverabandon you."

As they labored over Jenks, some of the other patients began tomurmur to each other; one or two tried to rise. "As you were,men," Jess said calmly. "As you were." In a few moments, theywere quiet again. Soon Private Jenks was breathing regularly, hiseyes closed, exhausted from the effort.

Jess could feel two pairs of eyes on his, and he looked from Nellto Daniel, and back to Nell again, finding his own reassurance inher steady gaze. Well, Hippocrates, he asked himself as hegestured for Dan to remove the bellows, did you ever feeluncomfortable when people thought you knew what you weredoing? He stood over Jenks a few minutes longer, then returnedto clean up the mess on his desk.

To his gratification, Nell came to help. She moved quickly andsurely around the table, moving books to keep them safe, anddeftly pouring the ink that had pooled on the top sheet back into

the bottle and saving the rest of the report underneath. How longhave you been cleaning up after us? he thought, even though heknew the answer. He smiled at her as she worked, oblivious to hisattention.

A chuckle made him glance over at the soldier lying on thenearest cot. As he watched, and felt his face redden, the mangave him a slow wink. Oh, Lord, I am a cloth head, he thought,but managed a weak smile at the whole row of invalids. To hisdismay, one of them raised up on his only elbow and gesturedwith his head. "Hey, Doc, if that ugly customer shows his phiz inhere again, bring him my way and I'll puke on him."

The other men laughed, and Jess had to laugh, too. "Promise?" heasked, then sat down at the desk again. He was smiling as hepicked up his pen again, at least until Nell sat down suddenlybeside him, and pulled the stool up close to his knees. "Are youall right, my dear?" he asked quietly, jolted into sobriety again bythe fear in her eyes.

She looked at him for a long moment, as if willing him tounderstand what she was going to say, so she wouldn't have tospeak out loud.

He did understand. "He wasn't far off the mark, was he?"

She shook her head. "He ... he comes around our tent now andthen." Again the silence, longer this time, until her uneasinesswas almost palpable. "Papa owes him money."

It was on the tip of his tongue to reply that charming BertieMason probably owed everyone in the Peninsula. He inclined hishead toward her instead, and she moved in closer, as thoughseeking comfort. "Tell me, Nell."

"He looks at me, just looks at me! I don't think he even blinks.And then he reminds Papa how much money he owes, and heleaves." She leaned even closer, until he could smell the vinegar

on her hands. "Mama tells me it's nothing, but Mama never didlike to face unpleasantness."

You've had to face it for her almost since you were in leadingstrings, he thought, you and Will. Now Will's enjoyingCambridge, and you are here in the mud still. Keep itprofessional, Jesse, he told himself, especially with that wholerow of pikers straining to hear. I swear they are worse than myold aunts! "Life's not easy here, is it, Nell?" he commented,amazed at his own vacuity.

His reward was a quizzical look, and then a slight smile. "It's all Iknow, Captain," she said. She laughed softly, but he swore heheard uneasiness in it. "Do you mean there is someplace withoutheat and dust?"

"Dundee," he replied promptly, then touched her hand lightly,hoping no one, including Nell, noticed. "How is your mother?"

Nell frowned, but did not move her hand. "Major Sheffield bledher this morning, but I do not believe she is any better." She rose."I need to go, if you can spare me."

Never in a million years, Nell, my love, he thought. "Of course,my dear," he said, rising, too, for Sheffield had entered the tent,followed by a familiar figure. "Let me send Daniel with you. Ifyou need something more, please ask." He sent them both off,then turned his attention to his superiors. "Tell me, sirs, are therumors only that?"

Colonel James McGrigor, spare of limb, tall of frame, and devoidof meaningful hair, extended his hand and Jess shook it, alwaysamazed at the formality of the man. We have stood, shoes deepin blood after Fuentes de Onoro, operating side by side, and stillyou hold out your hand. Now comes the bow, eh?

It did, the stiff little bow, looking slightly silly from a man so talland thin. And so shy. Jess knew better than to look at him longer

than necessary, even if he was Sir Arthur's inspector-general ofhospitals, and deserving of all attention. "Lad, nae rumor bu'fact," he said.

Despite himself, Jesse had to hold back a smile, remembering thefirst time Nell had watched one of the great McGrigor'sinspections. "But, sir, I cannot understand what he says! Where ishe from!"

"Scotland, like me," he had told her, "but Glasgow, where theyswallow half the words."

He nodded to McGrigor, who turned away, and hands behind hisback, walked up and down the rows of cots. Jesse could tell hewas counting, and it chilled him. "How soon?" he asked Sheffield,who stood beside him.

"Hard to say." The Chief shrugged. "One more river to France,but it's too far. Back we go to the lines." He leaned closer. "I hearyou had a visit from Major Bones."

"Does anything move faster than talk from a hospital?"

"I doubt it. You know, Jess, it is one of the mysteries of life thatgood men like Fitzroy-Somerset lose arms, or worse, but theMajor Boneses among us never even get a runny nose."

They waited together until McGrigor finished walking up anddown. He paused before them finally, and nodded, then left. "Iwill see you in Torres Vedras," he said over his shoulder. "Carryon, men."

Sheffield looked at Jess. "He wanted me to thank you for yourreports. 'No one's as thorough,' he told me."

"Well, guess who taught me?" Jess said with a grin that widenedas Sheffield's own color rose in his face. "All right, jefe, do westart to pack?"

Chapter TwoThey began to pack, but only after Jess's least favorite hospital

duty: releasing soldiers who weren't quite ready. I need just a fewmore days on this one, and that one, he wanted to say. He sent

them off to their companies instead, and wondered how soon hewould find them drooping along the line of march. Ten men

remained.

Sheffield did keep back two of the healthier ones to help with thepacking, and it was accomplished quickly. What he could barelycram into his allotted two panniers at the beginning of theSalamanca campaign now fit in a medium-sized box, with theubiquitous lint packed in here and there to keep his medicinebottles from rattling.

He had high hopes for this retreat, considering how orderly theplan sounded. Sheffield was less sanguine, even as he read overhis notes again, taken in haste during Wellington's officers call. "Ithink it generous of Sir Arthur to hold back on the marchinghospitals and send us off one at a time, but only if no one getsconfused," he said.

"It won't happen," Jesse assured him. "Don't you trust our friendsin the Third Division? Aren't we all veterans?"

Sheffield seemed on the verge of a comment when Daniel threwback the tent flap and came inside, shaking the rain off his cloak.He looked at Jess. "I don't know what to do," he said simply,discouragement high in his voice. "Please come."

"I thought Mrs. Mason was improving," Sheffield said, getting tohis feet again with a sigh. "I took a good pint of blood off her thismorning. What could have happened?"

Daniel held out his hand, as if to stop the chief surgeon. "Begging

your pardon, sir, but Nell asked for the captain here. She told meyou were to go to your cot, put up your feet, and rub eucalyptusoil on your chest, to cut your cough." He turned to look at Jessthen. "Mrs. Mason specifically asked for you, too, sir."

Sheffield sat down again, but he was smiling. "Who would thinkNell would turn into a tyrant! Did you, Jess? Well, I will do asyou suggest, Dan." He looked at Jesse. "Hurry on, now, andanswer the lady's summons. Maybe it's only a matter of anotherlittle bleeding for Mrs. Mason."

Jess pulled his cloak tighter with one hand and took a firmer gripon his medical sack, a shapeless leather bag that had quicklyreplaced the elegant case—a gift from his mother—he hadbrought from home when he came to Spain. Through the rain helooked toward the damaged ramparts of Burgos, seen at a greaterdistance, now that they were quartered in one of the little townsnearby. Damn this siege, he thought. Maybe it is time for me totake up a practice in Dundee.

He and Daniel walked in silence for most of the distance to theofficers' quarters. At least the Masons weren't in a tent. For somereason—surely not because he was thinking of his wife ordaughter's comfort—Bertie had managed to snag an abandonedcasucha. Jess knew where it was, but had never been there. Hewas no cardplayer, so he was never invited to join a game.Besides that, he was as low on funds as most of Wellington'sarmy. Even beyond that, when did a surgeon have a moment forcards?

Nell met them at the door, relief palpable on her face. Jess sighedinwardly, recognizing that look, and steeling himself against it. Ican't give you a miracle, my dear, he thought. Don't look at me asthough I just came from turning water to wine at Cana.

"Hey, now, my dear," he told her as she stepped aside so hecould enter. "The Chief said your mother was looking good this

morning. What can we do now?"

"Pray, do something," she said. He wanted to run his finger overthat frown line between her eyes and make it go away. Hefollowed her down the short hallway, then paused at the door totake a deep breath.

In the smoky glow of a cheap tallow candle, he saw a womandying. Audrey Mason's eyes were sunk deep in her head, herbreathing was spookily irregular. He couldn't be sure from theshadows in the room, but it looked like her blood had alreadystarted to pool, leaving her face drained of color, but her armsmottled.

"She wouldn't eat anything today," Nell said, standing next to himas he pulled back the coverlet to take a better look at her mother.

He looked, then tucked the coverlet back in place, not eager for alonger look at the woman's rickety thin body. You're a long wayfrom home, Mrs. Mason, he thought. He leaned his shoulderagainst Nell, wanting the touch of her; there was nothing he coulddo for her mother. "I'll go find your father, Nell. Any idea wherehe might be?"

She wouldn't look at him. "Someplace where there is a cardgame, and you hear men laughing." Her voice sounded unusuallyhard to his ears. The easiest thing in the world was to put his armaround her, which he did.

Jess turned to Dan, who stood in the doorway. "Can you findCaptain Mason?"

"Go, too, daughter."

Jess looked down at the bed in surprise. Audrey Mason's eyeswere open. It must have taken an enormous effort to speak,because drops of sweat formed a fine and dignified line acrossher forehead. It filled him with sadness that she had to die so farfrom England. He looked at the dying woman, deeply aware that

he had always thought her frivolous and somewhat stupid forstaying with the worthless Bertie Mason. I fear I never saw you,Mrs. Mason, he thought. I do not think Hippocrates would be soproud of me right now.

He followed Nell from the room. Daniel stood at the door,distracted, saddened. "Do you know, Nell, she made the best ashcakes," he said simply.

Nell's eyes filled with tears. Jess sighed and laid another stripe onhis own back. I never knew that woman, he thought. Danielmentions ash cakes—how homely is that!— and he is exactlyright. On a whim, he took Nell by the hand. "What happened,Nell?" he asked, his voice low. "The Chief said she was muchbetter this morning."

He did not let go of her hand, and she made no move to pullaway. "She and Papa had a row this morning," she told him. Shelooked at his face, then quickly away. "He was badgering her togive up her little gold locket. The officers in the 28th Foot wereauctioning off a dead man's property, and he wanted some betterepaulets."

"She's still wearing the locket," he said when she stopped talking.He could tell she was listening to her mother's irregular breathing.He deliberately began to run his fingers over her knuckles, tryingto distract her. She gave him a long, slow look, and he felt hisown respirations behaving strangely. Oh, who is distracted? heasked himself.

"She told him it was my legacy," Nell continued. "My legacy!The last piece of jewelry she had not given to Papa for somereason or other."

He knew the reasons. "This upset her?"

She shook her head. "It upset him! Oh, Captain, he stood by herbed and berated her for selfishness. He accused her of staying

with him because he was a meal chit and . . . and . . . oh, I can tellyou anything ... a warm bed. Only that wasn't what he said."

She was crying now, tears of frustration and helplessness. "Whata wicked thing to say!" She accepted the handkerchief he heldout to her. "All these years of following him from garrison togarrison. All the hardship, to accuse her like that! She gave up somuch for him, and all he could see was her selfishness." She driedher eyes then. "What must you think of us?" she said simply. "Heleft, after slamming the door really hard." She shrugged. "It washis usual response. At least Will wasn't there to slap and berate."

He took her other hand. "He does not beat you, does he?"

"No, no. These days he just looks aggrieved and wonders whyI've never attracted a wealthy officer who would pay Papa'sdebts to marry me. Or why I couldn't have been a boy like Will,and make my fortune somewhere. Just words, Captain."

"Sometimes words are worse."

She nodded, and freed both her hands from his. "They're killingmy mother. She turned her face to the wall when he stormed out.She is dying, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is."

Then she surprised him beyond his wildest imagination byreaching out and touching his face. "I know how you hate toadmit that, Captain," she said.

"It's the job," he replied, his voice shaky. She has been watchingme! he thought.

"I've watched you after a battle," she said, confirming histhoughts. "You sit at your desk, or by a cot so quietly." Shemanaged a little smile. "The Chief tells me not to bother you,then."

"He ... he does?"

She nodded, then looked up when Daniel came back into theroom. Nell rose and went for her cloak. She stood still a momentafter Daniel put the cloak around her shoulders. That look ofhumiliation came back into her expressive face.

"Tell us, Nell," he said. "You know we care."

"Mama told me that Major Bones came by this morning just afterI went to the hospital tent," she said. "He reminded her that Papaowes him a dreadful amount of money." She paused, unable tolook at either man, as the color rose in her face.

"He has a way to cancel that debt?" Daniel asked.

She nodded, then looked from Daniel to him. "I need friends,"she said simply. "Come, Dan. Let us find my father." She touchedJess's arm. "I think she doesn't want me to be here right now."

He understood, and also understood her hesitation. It didn'tsurprise him that she came back to the door of the sickroom andopened it. She stood there a long moment. She leaned against thedoor. "Mama was so beautiful," she said. "I have a miniature ofher."

"I'll stay with her, my dear," he replied. "Daniel, don't let Nell outof your sight."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

He was relieved when they left, so great was his anger. He stoodin the little room until his anger passed, but he could not getbeyond the great disgust that filled him to think that there was abiped on the earth who would threaten a dying woman with herown daughter. He knew that in these last eight of his twenty-nineyears that he had seen men at their worst and their best, but thatmuch depravity appalled him. How long has Major Bones beenletting feeble Bertie get deeper and deeper in debt, with Nell ashis goal? The thought made his stomach surge, as not evenamputation did.

For some inexplicable reason, he thought of his own mother, agracious woman living a life secure in the knowledge of herhusband's protection and love. Jess looked toward the sickroomdoor. "Audrey Mason, I have misjudged you all these years.Somehow in your chaotic life, you raised a lady, with preciouslittle help."

There was nothing to do but go into the sickroom now and pull upa chair by the bed. He sat there in the gloom, contemplating thefolly of medicine in general, and the foolishness of physicians inparticular, especially those who thought they could heal the sick."But not if the sick don't want to be healed, eh, Mrs. Mason?" hesaid softly.

She surprised him by opening her eyes. He reached for her hand.She seemed perfectly comprehending. "Mrs. Mason, I sent Nelland Daniel to find Captain Mason."

She thought about that. "Then you will have two sillies on yourhands."

He had to smile at her words, even though he could tell it cost herto say so much. What do you want to hear from me, he askedhimself. This is no time for drawing room wit, even if I had any.He was silent a moment, then, "My dear, I have been remiss allthese years in not complimenting you on your excellent children."

It was the right thing to say, to his gratification. "They are fine,are they not?" she said, and there was no mistaking her pride,even in her circumstance.

"Nell tells us that Will does famously at Pembroke."

She almost beamed at him. "Were you a Cambridge man, too?"

"University of Milan, ma'am. The Transmontane College."

She was silent then, as though the business of breathing occupiedher exclusively. He leaned forward to raise the pillows behind

her, but she shook her head. "I don't want an extra fifteenminutes of Burgos," she said then, her voice most distinct.

"I can appreciate that," he said, "but you know, we areretreating."

"I am tired of retreating, Captain. Hold my hand.

"He did, marveling at the fragility of her bones. Nell had thatsame fragile air about her. "Nell would want you to stay here," hereminded her.

"I cannot protect her any longer," Audrey Mason replied. "I thinkher own father is going to give her to a fellow officer to repay adebt. What can I do about that?"

So Nell had not guessed wrong. "Such things aren't allowed tohappen," he told her, but it sounded feeble to his own ears.

She gave him a look that could have flayed away his flesh. "Iknow what people think of the Masons, Captain. They wouldn'tcare under ordinary circumstances, and during a retreat, they areconcerned only about themselves."

He also could not deny the truth of what she was saying, as muchas he disliked it. "What do you want me to do?" he asked instead.

"Protect her," the woman said. "Promise me."

I can't even keep Major Bones from dumping ink on my reports,and you want to trust me with your daughter, he thought. Oh,Mrs. Mason, you really don't know how to choose men, do you?

"I depend on you, Captain. I don't think you are like all theothers."

She closed her eyes. While she struggled to breathe, he struggledto think what to say. It was as though someone was trying tohand him the greatest desire of his life, and he was pushing awaythe gift with both hands. He couldn't understand himself.

She got her breathing under control. He dabbed at the line ofperspiration on her forehead. "I wish I had some ice," he said.

She smiled without opening her eyes. "I remember ice inCanada," she said, then, "Captain, could you not see your way tolove her?"

The curious juxtaposition of thoughts jolted him with its strangejumble of the profound and the mundane. "I love her right now,"he replied quickly. "Ma'am, I will do all I can for your daughter."

It was that simple. The woman opened her eyes. "I can't feel myfeet." Panic filled her voice now.

"Just hold on, Mrs. Mason," he told her, touched by what washappening, moved by his enemy death, even as death began topress down. Be gentle, you demon, he thought.

"Do not lie to her. Make no promises you cannot keep." He couldtell she yearned to tell him more, but death was gliding up herbody.

"You can relax now," he said, his voice soft. "I will do as yousay."

The fear seemed to leave her. Her breathing became quieter andquieter. She surrendered to death as he watched. She hadextracted a promise from him, and he felt the binding force of itas if he were standing before a tribunal.

"I will not fail you," he whispered. He was not a religious man byany means, but he traced the sign of the cross on her forehead.

One long breath, then another. She exhaled, and did not breathein again. Her hand relaxed in his. He released her hand andleaned back in the chair, pulling out his timepiece to ascertain thetime of death for the records. Damned reports and forms, hethought. He put down the watch and just contemplated thewoman before him.

Something was gone that had been there before. No instructorhad ever attempted to explain the phenomenon, because therewas nothing scientific about it. "There you are, but where are younow?" he asked. It had to be a better place than scruffy Burgos.

He closed her eyes with a gentle hand. Out of habit, he put twofingers on her wrist. He expected no pulse, and there was none.He remembered the first time he had pronounced death. Someonehad sent a runner to the Trans-montane College, and his maestrohad sent him. The victim was a street vendor crushed betweenhorse and cart. Jess recalled with a wry smile how he hadfollowed through with every possible confirmation of morbidity,terrified that the man would suddenly sit up in the morgue anddemand to know what foolish medical student had consigned himthere prematurely.

He placed the dead woman's hands together across her stomach.On second thought, he pressed against her chest to exhale anyremaining air that sometimes startled the unwary. It came, and hepressed again until he couldn't hear anything else. No need forNell to be jolted unnecessarily when she returned.

He heard voices then in the street, just beyond the outside door.No telling what kind of a scene Bertie Mason would make. Hestood up and took another look at Audrey Mason, old beyond heryears for the harsh life she had led, but timeless now. As helooked, the glimmer of her locket caught his attention. Withouteven thinking, he slid the clasp around the dead woman's neck,released the locking mechanism—praise God for dexteroussurgeon's fingers!— and pocketed the necklace as the door wasthrown open.

He didn't even draw another breath before Captain Ber-trandMason's rather imposing bulk filled the doorway to the sickroom.He watched, hoping his face was impassive.

"Is she ... is she . . . gone?”

Jess hated euphomisms. She's right there, you twit, he wanted tosay. "She died about ten minutes ago, Captain," he said instead.

"And I wasn't here?"

He wasn't sure when he had heard anything that sounded moretragic, unless it was on the stage in Edinburgh one time. "Well,no, you weren't," he said, not even minding the sharp look thatMason gave him. "Please accept my condolences, Captain."

Mason nodded. He seemed to realize that his audience was notappreciative of overblown anguish. He went quietly enough tothe bedside and stood there for a long moment. "Didn't she havea gold locket around her neck?" he asked finally.

My God, Jess thought. My God. If I had placed shillings on hereyes, they would be in his pocket now. As he stood there indismay, Nell came to stand beside him. Without giving it athought, he put his arm around her waist. To his utterstupefaction, the darling woman slipped her arm around his waist.

"I'm so sorry, Nell," he whispered into her hair.

She shook her head. "Was it peaceful?"

"Yes."

She leaned her face into his shoulder, and he could feel hercrying, rather than hear it. He encircled her with his other arm,marveling how well she fit within his orbit. She was far from thefirst person he had comforted after a death, but never had hemeant it more. "She was a good mother, wasn't she?" he asked.

Nell nodded. "She read to us and drew pictures, and she alwayshoped for something better," she said when she could speak. "Idon't suppose anyone ever knew except Will and me, but it wasso."

"I am certain it was so," he replied. Nell, all I saw was thefrivolous woman who elevated the artful sigh and the pitiful look

to a fine art, and whose crochets set you and your brother earlyonto a life of work and worry, he thought. I've been wrongbefore. This is obviously one of life's lessons.

Bertie Mason must have heard them whispering in the doorway,because he heaved a huge sigh of his own, dropped to his kneesby the deathbed, and sobbed in good earnest. "Audrey, how will Imanage without you?" he cried out.

He misjudged his audience. Her face stony now, Nell pulled awayand went into the front room. Jess stood another moment in thedoorway. As he watched, the captain continued to sob—at leasthis shoulders were shaking—and began to pat around thebedclothes. Jess touched the locket and necklace in his pocket.Sorry, Bertie, but you're too late, he thought. He closed the doorquietly, noticing with his well-honed sense of irony that Bertiewas silent immediately, and joined the other two in the frontroom. Without a word, he took the necklace from his pocket anddropped it in Nell's lap.

She gasped, then looked around quickly. "Oh, thank you," shewhispered.

"Hide it," he ordered.

She slid it into her apron pocket just as the front door opened andMajor Bones came in without knocking. She took a deep breath,and Jess put his hand on her shoulder. "Major," he said, keepinghis voice even. From habit, Dan had risen to put himself betweenthe major and Nell. "Is there something that you want?"

His question seemed to catch Bones off guard, so he pressed hisadvantage. "Miss Mason is not without friends, Major."

There was no disguising the look of utter loathing that Bonesthrew his way. It didn't last long, but Jess felt it right down to hiswool socks.

"What a vast relief that is to me, Captain," Bones said, biting off

each word. "I would be distressed if during the general chaos ofretreat that Miss Mason found herself on her own withoutprotection."

"It won't happen," Jess assured him.

"Then her mother still lives?" Bones asked.

The sickroom door opened, and Bertie Mason leaned against theframe. "William, she has passed from this life into what I amhopeful is a better life," he said.

I'll say, Jess thought. You're not in it.

Nell rose. "Because of this, Major, you will understand if myfather and I wish to be alone at this time to make plans. Don't letus keep you from whatever pressing business falls under yourscrutiny."

"Oh, is that it?" he asked.

"I believe it is, sir." Nell held out her hand to the major, and Jesswas impressed to see that it did not tremble. "Anything you mightwish to discuss with my father can wait for another day. Goodnight, Major Bones."

He had no choice but to leave. Bones admonished Bertie to be aman when he started to sob again, and threw Jess another furiousglance before stalking from the room.

I believe I have an enemy, Jess thought. Well, there is a first timefor everything.

Chapter ThreeJesse assured Nell that the medical corps would find an

army-issue coffin for her mother. It wasn't strictly regulation, buthe had no doubts that Sheffield would approve.

Bertie shook his head. "I cannot think that a common coffin isworthy of my excellent wife. I will find something better if I mustsearch all day tomorrow."

"Papa, we are beginning a retreat tomorrow," Nell reminded him.

Bertie looked at her sorrowfully. "It is the least I can do for yourmother."

When did you ever do anything but the least for her? Jessthought. You expected so much and did so little, I wonder thatyou can summon the courage to glance into your shaving mirroreach morning. But men like you never see that, do you?

"Papa, we haven't money for such a coffin. Army issue will dojust as well," Nell said, with a firm voice. Jess recognized the tonefrom years past when Nell was much younger and took charge insituations where a parent should have led.

This time Bertie would not be put off. "I will borrow what I needfrom Major Bones," he told his daughter. "Five pounds should doit."

"Papa, that is five more pounds you must pay him back!" Nellburst out, and Jess heard the panic in her voice.

Bertie was oblivious. "Nell, I am wounded," he said. "How canyou think so lightly of your own dear mother? Besides, Bones'terms are never onerous." The captain looked at Jess. "You mayleave now, sir." He pulled on his cloak again. "I will only be afew minutes, Nell. I should find the major." He left withoutanother word.

Jess looked at Nell. "Will he be back tonight?"

She was too ashamed to look at him. "It is highly unlikely,Captain. Someone will offer him a drink, and then another."

"Then I will stay."

To his relief, she didn't argue. She managed a ghost of a smile."Captain, I will have no reputation at all," she said. She lookedtoward the door, as if all the officers' wives stood there pointingfingers. "Not that the Masons ever had the encumbrance of areputation. Please stay." Her voice faltered. "I do not really wantto be alone tonight."

A word to Daniel sent him out the door. He returned withNumber Eight's orderlies and a stretcher. By then, Jess and Nell,who insisted on helping, over his protests, had prepared Mrs.Mason. Her hands were folded across her middle and boundlightly with a linen strip. While Nell gently smoothed down hermother's nightgown over her feet, he bound them together atankles and knees, then tied a bandage around her face to keepher jaw closed against any rigor. I wonder if I could prepare myown mother for a coffin, he thought, and marveled at Nell's quietstrength.

When they were done, Nell ran her hand down her mother's arm."No more headache, Mama," she said softly. "Or palpitations, orgrocer's bills, or mud, or letters that never came." She looked athim. "Must she go to the dead tent?"

He hated to tell her yes, but he had no choice. "I'm sorry, mydear, but those are regulations. The bedding must go with her,too."

She nodded, and went quietly into the front room, where she saton the packing cases and pallet that constituted the Masonfamily's sofa. She sat with her knees drawn up to her body, andher arms around them. She looked at him when he sat downbeside her. "Do you think anyone is ever ready for death?"

"I know I am not," he said frankly.

Daniel touched her shoulder then, and nodded to the stretcher

bearers to go ahead. "I have a nice peaceful corner for her in thetent," Daniel told her. "She'll have her bedding all around her,too, Nell."

The Chief was so right about you, Dan, Jess thought, as hewatched Nell relax. I just get scientific and probably stuffy, butyou have made death into a grouchy uncle that we have tohumor, because that's what relatives do. "Thank you, Dan," hesaid.

The steward smiled and stood between Nell and the inner room,shielding her eyes from the bearers as they gathered up Mrs.Mason. He kept up a simple conversation so she had to payattention to him. In another moment, they were quietly out thedoor.

Jess sat in silence. There was so much he wanted to say. Dearone, I have promised your mother I would take care of you, hewanted to tell her, but he knew this was not the time. And therewas Major Bones, maybe even right now calling in his loans toBertie Mason. He is probably right now promising poor,befuddled Bertie that he's the one to take care of you. He took asideways glance at Nell, still tucked close, with her head restingon her knees now.

Still he sat in silence, not moving closer to her. In a few minutesshe went into her room, coming back with pillow and threadbareblanket. "I do not know how you will be comfortable theretonight," she said, uncertainty high in her voice.

"I will be even less comfortable in my tent, worrying about youhere alone," he replied, taking the bedding from her.

For some reason his words seemed to make enormous sense toher. She nodded. "Good night then, sir," she said. "Tomorrow willbe a busy day, will it not?" She went to her own room, where thedoor only hung on by a leather strap.

Always acute of hearing, he lay on the packing crates, handsbehind his head, listening as she rustled out of her dress. Hershoes hit the floor next, and then he heard the sound of a brushthrough long hair and the faint crackle of electricity. If we weremarried, Nell, I could brush your hair, he thought. We could siton the end of the bed and talk about the day. He slept then; itwas a more comforting picture than his usual last thoughts offever and delirium, and who he would find alive in the morning.

He couldn't have slept long. He was still lying on his back, hishands behind his head. The rain had finally stopped, and he couldhear Nell crying. She was being quiet about it, but there was nomistake.

He lay there, wondering what to do. He had almost decided to donothing, convinced that solitude was often best—but he knewbetter. He thought of Maestro della Suave, his excellent teacherof anatomy, who used to sit for hours beside a pallet in the poorward that other physicians and students had passed with no moreinterest than the Pharisee on the road to Jericho.

He got up and went to Nell. "Move over," he told her. "I'm tootired to sit up, but I would be a poor surgeon if I let myself listento you cry."

She gave him no argument. In another moment he held her close,one arm around her waist, as she burrowed into him like a smallchild. He didn't have to say anything; all he needed to do wasthink of his own mother, warm and safe in Scotland, oblivious tohis own difficult life because in her goodness she could not reallyimagine armies. Mother, what would you do if I sent Nell to you?You always wanted a daughter. He knew the answer to that, andit made him smile.

The night was chilly, and he was thankful for her warmth. Whenher sobs subsided, she slept. He knew he could leave her thenand return to the packing crate pallet, but it was his turn to reject

the solitude of a single bed. He breathed deep of Nell's hair, andclosed his eyes in complete comfort.

He woke up early to the sound of rain. For the smallest momenthe wondered where he was, until the gentle rest-fulness of Nellagainst his back reminded him. He lay there with a smile on hisface. How strange this is, he told himself. Here I am in atumbledown shack, there is a retreat about to begin, and it hasrained so much that I am wondering when Noah will knock onthe door and ask for two of something. There is a captainprobably drunk somewhere who is about as useful as tits on aboar, and a bastard who is quite ready to ruin this pleasant lady Iam currently lying back-to-back with. And I am a happy man.Are all Scots so certifiable? No wonder the English do not allowus to have our own Parliament.

As much as he hated to leave Nell's warmth, he thought itprudent to retire to the other room. After years of sharing a tentwith other surgeons, he knew how to leave a room quietlywithout disturbing someone who had been on duty all night. Inanother moment he was lying on the packing crates, certain hewould not sleep.

When he woke, the rain had stopped again and Daniel O'Learywas shaking his shoulder. "Captain Randall! You have to hearthis!"

He sat up, wide awake, as his training took over. "What is it,Dan?" He dragged out his timepiece. " Ton my word, it's nearlyeight of the clock. Where do I need to be?"

The hospital steward shook his head. "Oh, Captain, it's where I'vebeen! The Chief sent me directly here to tell you, and to warnNell."

"Warn me about what?" Nell stood there in her bare feet, doingup the last button on her dress. Her hair was uncombed, but shehad a brush in her other hand.

Jess patted the packing crate, but she just stood there. "Did myfather ever return?" she asked.

He shook his head, then looked at Daniel again. "Did you findhim?"

"I heard him," the steward said, his voice grim. "Oh, Nell." Heturned back to Jess, as if unable to bear looking at her. "TheChief sent me after breakfast to bleed Major Tomlinson of theFifth Foot."

Jess couldn't help a smile. "Ah, yes! He does this before everyretreat."

"And all special occasions, Captain," Dan said. "Didn't you oncesay that if he added Jewish holidays to his special occasions, hewould have no blood left?"

"In my lighter, more frivolous days," he replied, wondering whatNell was thinking of him. "But that is of no consequence. What isthe matter?"

"It's Major Bones, isn't it?" Nell asked quietly.

The hospital steward nodded. "I wish you would sit down."

She did as he suggested, sitting next to Jesse and pulling hisblanket over to cover her bare feet. "Did he call in thoseinfamous loans?"

Dan nodded again. He looked at Jesse. "Sir, Captain Tomlinsonwas sitting outside under his tent fly." He glanced at Nell, hislook apologetic. "I ... I suppose Captain Mason spent the nightthere, but I could hear him inside the tent, talking to Bones." Hisface darkened, and he started to say something, but shook hishead instead.

"Tell us all, Daniel," Jess said.

"Nell, he told your father he had to pay the ninety-five pounds

now, before the retreat."

Nell gasped. "Dan! That is even more than I thought he owed!"she said. "How will I find even the tiniest part of such a sum?"

Jess took her hand. "Let's hear it all, Nell."

Dan pulled up a stool. "Your father started to cry, and confessthat he did not have it. He pleaded to repay him when wereached the lines of Torres Vedras."

"As though he would have it there," Nell said, her voice bitter."That can't have convinced Major Bones of anything."

Dan shook his head. "Of course it did not."

He shifted his weight on the stool, and it protested. Jess noticedthat he could not look Nell in the eye. Here it comes, he thought."Tell us."

Dan was a moment in speaking, and even then he looked at Jess."Sir, he said he would take Nell in exchange for the debt. Just likehe was dealing in cattle!" he burst out. He lowered his voice, buthe still could not bring himself to look at Nell, who had gone aswhite as a winding cloth. "Sir, he promised to marry Nell after theretreat."

"But not before," Jess said, amazed at his own calmness. "Eventhough we have chaplains aplenty in this army, and there is apriest behind every bush in Spain."

They were all silent. Nell pressed up against him, and he put hisarm around her. Puny comfort, he thought, going over his ownresources in his mind. We have not been paid in four months. Iwonder if I have even ten pounds to my name? He thought aboutthe family money gathering interest in Edinburgh so far away.

"What did Bertie say to that?" he asked.

Dan shifted again, and this time he looked at Nell. "To his credit,

your father said it was an infamous bargain, and that no Christiangentleman would even consider it."

"Thank God," Nell said.

Dan frowned, then he glanced at Jess with a wry smile. "Captain,there I was, listening so hard that I forgot how much I had bledCaptain Tomlinson. He's more than usually pale, and I do notthink he will want to get off his cot anytime soon."

"Then it will be a typical day in his career," Jess said dryly. "Didhe dismiss you?"

"I wasn't about to leave!" Dan declared, and had the grace toblush. "I hope you won't tell the Chief, but I told CaptainTomlinson that I needed to take his pulse for five minutes straightnow, to make sure that all his bodily humors hadn't leeched out."

"Hippocrates would be honored," Jess said, with the ghost of asmile. "At least you did not get out a rattle and dance around himlike an aborigine. All right, Dan, spill the rest of this. There has tobe more, or you wouldn't look so glum."

"There's more." He looked Nell in the eye this time. "Oh, Nell,the major offered to find him a grand coffin for your mother. Saidhe thought he could locate a coffin suitable for a lady." He sighedand looked down at his hands. "That was all it took."

How strange are the workings of guilt, Jess thought. WhenAudrey Mason is gone beyond his reach—or his regret, I suppose—he thinks to honor her. He had been in Spain too long to doubtthe next step. Bones will pay some starving paisano to dig up acoffin and dump out its occupant. He had seen it before. "Wemust stop him," he said.

"Major Bones?" she asked. "Can we take this to GeneralWellesley?"

He could hear no confidence in her voice now. Well, Captain

Randall, he thought, you had better see how convincing an actoryou are. He took a deep breath. "No, my dear, I think Sir Arthurwill not have time to bother with us today, even if we could findhim, which I doubt. Bones would only deny he had ever loanedhim money." He gave her a hug. "No, my dear, we have to makeyour father a better offer."

You are quick with the comforting platitude, Jesse told himselfsourly as he walked through the rain a few minutes later,shoulders hunched, to the marching hospital. He glanced at Dan,grateful that the steward chose not to comment. They had leftNell with a dubious look on her face, but packing anyhow. Heknew she didn't want them around; a glance around AudreyMason's bedchamber as she lay dying had pointed out moreeloquently than words that the Masons had very little substancebetween them and ruin. He wondered that Nell could have muchdignity left, not after her mother's death, her father's variousstupidities, and Major Bones' plans. She had seemed calmenough. It is entirely possible that I may still be underestimatingher, he told himself.

"It seems unfair," he said at last to Dan as they slogged along."Why is it that good people invariably seem to come out on theslimy side of the pond, while wretched specimens like MajorBones rise to the top like someone three days dead?"

Dan's answer was slow in coming, and when it did, it was not acomment on his inane observation. "How are we going to findninety-five pounds?" He stopped. "Did I mention that the majortold Captain Mason that he had until six o'clock?"

To his credit, Major Sheffield didn't fly into the boughs when Jesstold him the situation. His grip got a little tighter around thebellows he was working for Private Jenks, and he blinked hiseyes a few times, but there was no outburst beyond a string ofprofanity that made Jess stare. "Chief, I wish I knew what to do."

"Empty out your pockets, lad," Sheffield said briskly, handing thebellows to Dan, who continued the slow, careful motion. "ByGod, I am inclined to dump every soldier in here upside downuntil he coughs up whatever shilling he is hoarding. Hear that,lads?"

It would have been difficult not to. "Oh, Chief, we can't ask ourpatients to pony up," Jess said.

"We can," Sheffield insisted. "Lads, listen to me. This is the onlymarching hospital in the whole army with someone as wonderfulas Nell Mason in it. Her mother died last night, and she needshelp with funeral expenses."

"Sir, I disremember when most of us were last paid," one of themen called, even as he sat up and reached for his trousers at theend of his cot. His searching turned up a coin, which he held upfor Jess. "Not much, is it, sir? Ah, but she's a fine one."

She is, indeed, Jess thought as he circulated down the few rowsof men who still remained, touched that they would willinglysurrender what remained of their money— a pence here, ashilling there—when His Majesty saw fit to pay them so little inthe first place. Each offering was given with an air of apology,the giver wishing the gift was greater. "You would call these mena rabble, eh, Sir Arthur?" he said softly to himself as hetransferred the coins to the sole unbroken emesis basin.

While he had been collecting from his patients, Sheffield musthave gone to their shared tent. He returned holding out anunmated stocking. "Eleven pounds, Jesse," he said, and pouredthe coin into the basin.

"We're up to fifteen, then, sir," Jess said.

"A far cry from ninety-five," was all Sheffield said. He went to sitby Private Jenks again. Jess went to his tent, relieved at least tosee that the rain had stopped, and attempted to perform magic on

the footlocker whose contents he knew too well.

He surprised himself. "Well, loaves and fishes," he said out loudas he lifted out his one remaining good shirt— "good" defined ashirt with all its buttons and no obvious bloodstains—and dressuniform to reveal a leather pouch he had entirely forgotten.Eagerly he dumped the contents onto his cot and counted outfifteen pounds. True son of glen and loch, he had never been awasteful man, but as he lay back on his cot, he felt onlydiscouragement. Thirty pounds! Sixty-five more loomed as hugea treasure as all of Cortez's Aztec gold and Balboa's pearlsthrown in for good measure.

"Sir?"

He sat up, on edge immediately. "What is it, Dan?" he asked,wondering if there would ever be a time in his life when he wouldnot be on alert, nerves straining toward whatever it was thatwaited in the marching hospital.

His steward held out two pounds. Jess took it. "We're up tothirty-two pounds now," he said. "Dan, thirty-two pounds orthree hundred! It's all the same, isn't it?"

Seeing the look on his steward's face, Jess regretted his words themoment he had said them. "I'm sorry," he said simply. "You areall trying so hard for Nell, and I am whining about it. I wish Iknew what to do."

Jess indicated the camp stool by his cot, and Dan sat down. "Youhave something else to say, don't you?" he asked when a minutepassed in silence.

Dan nodded. "It's really simple, sir. I'm amazed you haven'tthought of it." He blushed and looked down at his hands. "Maybeit's because you're so polite and all."

"What, call out Bones and duel with him, scalpels at ten paces?"Jess asked, amused in spite of himself.

The hospital steward allowed himself a smile. "No, I meanreally."

Jess sighed. "You'd better enlighten me, Dan. I'm fresh out ofclever ideas."

Dan leaned forward. "We could collect ninety-five pounds fromsomewhere, but who's to say that Major Bones wouldn't offerCaptain Mason another twenty or thirty pounds to be Nell'sprotector?" he spit out the word as though it tasted bad. "I mean,we have no idea what kind of resources Bones has, and youknow Captain Mason's weakness."

"All too well. I still don't know where you're venturing, Dan, sohurry up. I know we should both be in hospital."

"If you married Nell, there is not a thing the major could do, isthere?"

Jess stared at the hospital steward, who had spoken as calmly asthough he were stating that gauge .05 gut was better than gauge1.0 for suturing a leg wound. I never would have thought of that,he told himself, but what a simple thing! "I ... I doubt you couldget Miss Mason to agree," he managed to say.

Dan shrugged. "Do you at least think it is a good idea?"

"Well, yes! Of course! It would certainly solve the problem,wouldn't it?" And make me the happiest man on all sixcontinents, significant islands, and major peninsulas, he thought.He couldn't help but smile, until he began to doubt. "There isprobably no possible way that Miss Mason would agree to such aharebrained scheme, O'Leary."

The other man shrugged again. "If you'll excuse me saying so,Captain, other than the fact that you are a little shy, there's reallynothing about you that would disgust her. I mean, you don't haveany particular noxious habits that I'm aware of, and I've beensharing a tent with you and the Chief for three years now. I'm not

even sure you snore."

He knew O'Leary had thrown that in to lighten his mood, and hesmiled obligingly, even as reason prevailed. "She will never agreeto such a thing."

"I say she will, Captain, begging your pardon," O'Leary insisted."There's nobody around to help her but us in the marchinghospital, sir, especially now, with a retreat on." He leaned closerand lowered his voice. "And if that damned Bones takes her andruins her, what choice does she have then?"

Such plain speaking called for an equally honest answer. Helooked at the thirty-two pounds on the table between them, and itseemed to shrivel up like apricots under a Spanish sun. "Shedoesn't have a choice either way, Dan."

"Captain, do you think she would even know what to do with achoice?"

It was true. He got off his cot and went to the tent opening tostand there and gaze at the organized confusion as the regimentprepared to pull out. Although he would never do it, he knew thathe was perfectly free to fork a horse and accompany the 12thLight Artillery passing now. He could resign his commission thisminute, return to the Portuguese lines, take the first transporthome, and have his shingle hung out in Dundee by the end ofnext month. He had a lifetime of choices ahead of him, and Nellhad none.

"So it's me or Major Bones?"

"I think so, Captain," Dan said. "I mean, I like Nell, but she is alady and I will never be a gentleman. The Chief is fond of her,but I know he sees her as a daughter, or ... or maybe a favoriteniece. You could at least like her, couldn't you, sir?"

Oh, could he. Dan, I guess you haven't noticed how I watch her,and do everything I can to get near her in the hospital tent, he

thought. You certainly can't see my dreams, thank God. "I couldat least like her," he said, still watching the passing artillery. "Icould do that, and it would certainly stop Major Bones."

Dan made a face. "Of course, that would mean Captain Masonfor a father-in-law."

"I'm sure if we put our minds to it, we could think of worse fates,Dan," he said.

He watched the gunners dismount and put their shoulders to thewheel of the ten-pounder mired in the sludge, then glancedbeyond them at a familiar figure hurrying toward the marchinghospital, dodging one of Wellington's aides-de-camp riding toofast and splattering mud. Nell, you should be home in my housein Dundee, warm and comfortable, with nothing more to worryabout than planning dinner with the cook, he thought. Damn thiswar. "Nell," he said softly.

"Yes, sir, Nell. I do think you should consider a wedding, eventhough we are a little busy right now," O'Leary concluded in amasterpiece of understatement.

Beyond my patients, she has been my chiefest concern thesethree years, he thought. "Yes, we are a little busy, Dan, but Ithink you may have something here. Do wish me all success."

Chapter FourThe proposal didn't begin auspiciously. He came into the tent atthe same time Nell entered from the opposite end. Her agitation

was obvious, and he watched in consternation as Sheffield sat herdown beside him. Still wrapped tight in her old cloak, she covered

her face with her hands, and Jess's heart went out to her. For

once, he didn't ask himself if he would be inflicting more pain bya stupid offer of marriage, coming at her like a plummeting

meteor. I think I can help, Nell, he told himself.

He started toward her, only to be stopped by one of the otherhospital stewards, a harried-looking man named Al-cott whousually managed to vanish during crises. As it was, the man allbut plucked at his sleeve like a peevish child to get his attention.

"You're still here, Alcott?" he asked, half in jest. "I suppose wehave nothing to fear, then."

"Captain, two of the patients have gone missing."

"Oh, I must say this is a rare good time to go missing, Alcott," hesaid. "Perhaps you've miscounted?"

The man shook his head. "They are missing." He pointed to twoempty cots, and Jess sighed. "Harper and Wilkie."

Oh, Hippocrates, even you would not want them back, Jessthought as he stifled a groan. Harper and Wilkie, two privatesfrom the Subsistence Department, were slackers of the first order.Harper had been rescued in a drunken fog after a headfirst plungeinto a latrine, and Wilkie was recovering from a knife woundinflicted by a local citizen who came home too soon and foundthe private banging his wife.

"Perhaps they have rejoined Subsistence," he said, hoping hedidn't sound too eager. Of the two, he would miss Wilkie more.The knife wound had proved interesting in the extreme, slicing asit did through his stomach lining, but not entirely healing. Thesight of the open wound was distressing, but not particularlydangerous, and it fascinated Jess to watch the workings ofWilkie's stomach.

"Should I go in search of them, Captain?" The steward plucked athis sleeve again as Jess was looking at Nell in her distress."Captain?"

"By all means, Alcott," he said. With any luck, we will not findthem, he told himself. My blushes, Hippocrates. "Do it now. I willattend in the tent."

He came close to Sheffield and Nell. "What happened, Nell?"

That she was afraid would have been obvious to a one-eyed manwith cataracts. There was no serenity or calmness about her, andhe wondered how hard it must be to live continually on the edgeof ruin. She tried to speak, then shook her head. "Oh, I can't," shemanaged to say, then looked at Sheffield.

"She was packing out her mother's household effects when MajorBones' batman came and took them from her," Sheffield said, hisown voice more agitated than Jess could remember. "He saidBones had told him to take her luggage to his tent."

"I just left everything else there in the house and bolted out thedoor," she said, picking up the narrative, but unable to look athim. "I mean, all I have is this dress and apron." She patted theapron pocket. "And Mama's necklace. I can't go back. I daren't."

She took a huge breath then, as though to steady herself, andlooked at him, if only briefly. It was long enough for him to seethe shame in her eyes. "Captain Randall, I do hate being at themercy of men!"

"I doubt you are alone in your sex in that," he replied. Oh, this isa fine beginning for wooing, he thought, instant wooing, at that.He hesitated only briefly, then took her hand. Her fingers werecold and she was shaking, so he increased the firmness of hisgrip, and covered her hand with his other one.

She responded with a firmer grip of her own. "Major Sheffieldtells me you have been raising money," she said.

"I have only thirty-two pounds, and we've exhausted ourresources," he told her.

"There's another ten pounds in the hospital funds." Sheffield said."I will authorize its use."

"Forty-two pounds is still not enough," Jess said. He loosened hisgrip on her, and was nearly overwhelmed with emotion when sheincreased hers. At this moment, she is as dependent as a baby, hethought. "Even if we were by some miracle to raise the sum, wehave no idea what more money Bones has. I fear he could trumpus without even flickering an eyelid."

He was sure that a lesser woman would have dissolved in tears.Nell did not. If anything, his bracing words stiffened her back."What do you recommend I do, sir?" she asked, her voice calmnow. "I am open to any suggestion, no matter how farfetched."

This was his moment. His heart pounded so loud under hiswaistcoat that he knew the passing artillery could hear it. "Marryme, Nell. Bones can't touch you then."

Sheffield burst into laughter. "Oh, bold stroke, Jesse," heexclaimed. "Nell, it's crazy, but I must agree. Nell?"

The silence continued. Jess was almost afraid to look at her. Shehad not withdrawn her hand from his, but he was clutching hersso tightly that he wasn't sure she could. He looked at her then, tofind himself amazed that a pale face could go even paler. Thecolor seemed gone even from her lips. As he watched, her colorgradually returned. With it came a relaxation of her fingers in hishand.

To his ineffable, unspeakable pleasure, she inclined her headtoward his. "You can't possibly love me on such short notice,"she said, and there was no mistaking the amusement in her voice.It was as though he had diverted her momentarily from the moreawful crisis looming, and she was savoring the respite, howevertransitory it might be.

Now what? he asked himself. If you say you have loved her these

two years, chances are she will not believe you. After all, youhave done nothing to show her any affection: no flowers, nochocolates, no lingering drawing room visits, no teasing notes.You have only handed her emesis basins, and accepted gut reeledoff suturing spools. The only notes were receipts for medicinesyou have taught her to compound. Flowers? When did you lastsee a flower that had not been trampled by gun carriages or thecavalry?

No, I dare not say how long I have loved you, he thought. Youwould think me a lunatic, and surely no woman craves a lunaticfor a bedfellow. "Nell, I must admit that the idea for this proposalis of quite recent origin," he said, and that was true enough. "Butdo you know, it's not such a bad idea."

He could have groaned out loud. How do other men propose, heasked himself. Surely not in a hospital tent with people listening,and guns rumbling by outside, and, for all he knew, a lecher benton ruin with his ear to the canvas. Here I am telling this darling,this angel, that it's not a bad ideal

To his amazement, Nell still did not withdraw her hand from his.Granted, she was shaking her head, but there was something inher eyes now besides despair. "I suppose you will tell me that I'ma real game goer, and that you like me a lot," she said.

"Well, I do," he said, simply. It was vacuous in the extreme, butsomething told him it was right. "It would be the protection youneed right now."

The expression in her eyes told him that just for a moment, shetruly had forgotten about the threat of Major Bones. "Wellingtonleft this morning, didn't he?" she asked.

"I believe he did, Nell, along with his staff."

"We already know there are no officers' wives in this corps whocare particularly what happens to Audrey Mason's daughter."

"I fear that is so."

"Things do have a way of getting lost or coming up missingduring a retreat." She shivered, and he felt the same cold chill.With everyone concerned for his own regiment, and looking overhis shoulder for Souham or Soult, no one would ever wonderwhat had become of Elinore Mason— until Major Bones ruinedher.

"Again you are right."

She appealed to the Chief. "Major Sheffield, is this a good idea?"she asked.

"Completely," the surgeon said, and Jess closed his eyes in relief."I am certain that Captain Randall would agree that should youchange your mind by the time we reach the Portuguese lines, hewould accept an annulment. Right, Jess?"

Never, he thought. Not in a whole year of Sundays. "Certainly,sir. You can depend upon it," he lied.

"I will do it then," she said in a rush, as if afraid too much thoughtwould allow common sense to triumph. Her face clouded overthen. "But aren't there banns to cry, or a special license? Can youfind a minister? You're not even Protestant, are you?"

He didn't have any answers to her rapid questions except the lastone. "No, I'm not," he replied. "Did you ever meet a moreinconsiderate Scot from the land of porridge and John Knox?"

She smiled at that. "No, I did not. Why should I worry aboutsomething like dogma at a time like this?" She shook her head inwonder. "Dear me, do you realize I am behaving in a far moreramshackle way than even my parents would havecontemplated?" She looked at the Chief again, and there was nomistaking her pleading glance. "Can't we think of anything else?"

Jess held his breath, then let it out slowly as Sheffield's silence

lengthened. "I suppose I am no bargain, Nell," he began.

"Nonsense," Sheffield said. "You're an excellent surgeon!"

"That's not the issue," he said quietly.

"Perhaps not," Sheffield replied. He turned to Nell. "My dear, Ihave no idea what kind of a husband he will prove to be, but letme assure you, at the moment he is damned useful and you are ina bad spot."

She looked from one man to the other. Tears welled in her eyesand Jess felt his heart turn over. Suddenly she was eleven again,and had no more blue beads left to give. "You'll have to trust me,Nell," he told her, his voice scarcely more than a whisper. "I willabide by whatever you say when we reach the Portugueseborder, and make it right, but you need me now."

"I do," she said after another long moment. She looked across thehospital tent. "I wish there would be a time in my life when I didnot have to depend upon the goodwill of others. Do you everwish life was fair?"

"All the time," he answered. He kissed her hand before she couldtake it from his arm. "I would have gone to the University ofEdinburgh with the Protestants. By God, Nell, if life were fair,none of my patients would ever die."

He hadn't meant to sound vehement, but her question bit deep allof a sudden. I am a dog, he thought as the tears spilled onto hercheeks. I will not be surprised if she slaps me, turns on her heel,and marches out of here.

She did not. Her expression softened then. "I never consideredthat," she said. She squared her shoulder then, and the movementtouched him deeper than anything else she could have done justthen. "Lead on, Chief. Let us find a chaplain." She tucked herarm through Sheffield's, and made no comment when the chiefsurgeon blew his nose loudly and muttered something about dust

in the air.

With a wave, he saw them off: Sheffield with a firm grip uponNell Mason and a light enough step to avoid the increasing trafficstreaming past the hospital. He stood at the tent's opening andwatched them, Nell so graceful even though her cloak was oldand patched. She raised the hem of her dress in a fruitless attemptto keep it out of the mud, and he stared at her ankles, so trimeven in much-darned stockings. Oh, Mother, I am marrying awoman with nothing more than the dress she stands in, hethought. Her father is a scamp and her mother was a fool. She hasnot one of those accomplishments that should be the birthright ofany lady I marry, but by all the saints, I couldn't have donebetter. Mother, I know you will come to love her. Thank you,Major Bones, you bastard.

Jenks was asleep and breathing more steadily than he had sinceBones' harsh visit the day before, so Jess remained in the tentopening. He had seen retreats enough to not fear now when theregiment seemed to untangle itself from a thousand knots and pullout. He waved at the brother officers he was acquainted with,nodding at their words of "See you behind the lines, Surgeon!"and calling back comments of his own.

The road was quiet then for a time, and then the next regimentmoved up, to bivouac under the trees nearer the river. He knewthey could remain there a few hours, or all night, to be followedby another regiment, and then it would be the marching hospital'sturn to move out under the protection of the division's lastregiment.

"Where is she?"

He wondered if he had been dozing on his feet, a skill learnedearly at the University of Milan. Major Bones stood beside him.He must have been dozing, because the man had obviouslydismounted from the horse that was practically chewing on Jess's

sleeve. He pulled his arm away. "Who?" he asked, and feltinstantly stupid.

"Bertie Mason's daughter, you chinch," Bones said, biting offeach word. "My batman went to help her pack, and she boltedlike a hare, he told me. I can't imagine why she would be here,either, but I can't find her anywhere else."

"She said your batman snatched away her belongings andfrightened her."

Bones muttered an oath, turned away, and mounted his horse,crowding it forward until Jess was forced to step back. "You area puny little man," he said. "A woman would be crazy to look toyou for protection."

"People do unusual things when they are desperate," he saidquietly.

Bones grinned at that. "I'll agree," he said. "You should have seenBertie Mason an hour ago, scurrying around trying to borrowmoney off everyone he knows! The trouble is, everyone knowsBertie too well. Now he has given up the notion of looking formoney and hared himself away in the sutler's tent for gin. It's anugly sight."

"Bones, you are a bully," Jess said.

He waited for the horse to knock him flat, but the major onlylaughed. "I certainly am, Captain Puke Basin." He leaned over inthe saddle until Jess could smell the reek of gin on him, too. "I getwhat I want, which is more than you ever will."

Dan called to him from inside the tent, and he turned away. "I'llfind her, Captain," Bones called. "Just give me a week with her,and she'll be a happy woman. She'll crawl after me begging formore, something you could never hope for, eh?"

Jess shuddered. I've seen what men like you do to helpless

women, especially if they are poor and have no protection. Iwonder that the Spanish call men like you allies, after you andyour like take a village in all the ways you can imagine.

Jenks must have heard the major's voice, because he washyperventilating again. It took all of Jess's patience with thebellows, and a greater dose of laudanum than he cared to give tocalm the soldier this time. "I would really rather use our hospitalfunds to find a Sicilian willing to pull Major Bones' liver andlights out through his rectum," he murmured to Dan. Sorry,Hippocrates, but once in a while I would like to do some harm.

He knew that Bones must be watching the hospital tent, eventhough he could not see him. He hoped that Nell and Sheffieldwould not return from their search for a chaplain. To his relief, anhour later a boy from the village came into the tent. Dan noticedhim and gestured him forward.

With a terrified glance at the men on the cots, he ran into thetent, threw a message down in front of Jess, and ran out again."Do you suppose he has heard rumors about how bad hospitalfood is?" Dan joked. "I wish I knew enough Spanish to tell himthat we haven't lost more than ten or twelve muddy little boys ina day or two!"

The message was written in Latin on Sheffield's receipt pad. Jesswondered if the chief surgeon was enjoying the intrigue of thewhole affair. He had to admire Sheffield's flair, and feel not alittle proud that the man knew he could write Jess in Latin. Safefrom enemy hands, he thought. He read it, then looked at Dan."You're in charge for a few minutes. I'm to take my medicalsatchel and leave as though intent upon an errand of mercy toMarching Hospital Number Three. Wish I had a wedding ring forNell." And I wish I were taller, and braver, and certainlybetter-looking.

He ran back to his tent and grabbed his satchel, pausing before

his mirror to run his fingers through his hair and wish he hadtaken the time earlier to shave. At least he was wearing one of hisbetter shirts. Well, I have all my hair, he thought, and he tookanother look. My teeth are mine. I can only hope that she won'tmind being married to someone who looks so ... so earnest. Therewasn't another word for his expression that he could think of.Perhaps it was better than diligent or dutiful, he told himself as heshouldered his satchel and set out.

He knew Bones was watching. He stopped in the road, thenturned back and summoned the stretcher bearers. Now I'll justhave to find someone to load on this for the return trip, hethought.

Tent already folded and packed, the wounded on wagons,Number Three was ready to pull out. He didn't bother to lookover his shoulder for Bones, but went directly to ColonelIpswich, a surgeon he had respected for years. "Sir?" he asked."Can you direct me to Major Sheffield?"

"I'll do better than that," the surgeon said, and indicated the deadtent, where the able-bodied were even now loosening the tentpegs. "There are some of us who heard about your proposal,Captain, and have put a wager on whether you will overcomeyour charming shyness enough to say yes."

Jess laughed. "I am surprised you are not offering condolencesthat Bertie Mason will be my father-in-law."

The other surgeon winked. "As to that, rumor has it that CaptainRandall is well juiced enough to keep Bertie in the style he wouldlike to become accustomed to." He came closer. "I hear it is yourpresent poverty, and everyone else's, which seems to be bringingabout this wedding, eh? I say you're carrying a good deed too far.Won't your parents be chagrined to learn that their promising sonmarried a woman practically standing in her shimmy? Lord, myparents would die of shock."

He was about to reply—what he wasn't sure—when he saw NellMason, her face white, in the shadow of the dead tent, listeningto their conversation. As he watched in horror, she swallowed acouple times, as though trying to keep her composure, thenlooked at Colonel Ipswich. "It only has to be to the Portugueseborder, Colonel Ipswich," she said. "That's as far as anyone'scharity needs to extend." Jess could hardly bear the hurt in hereyes as she stared at him. "Obviously I was not blessed withparents as fastidious as yours. You're free to change your mind."

He didn't know what to say; couldn't think of anything toameliorate either Ipswich's remarks, or whatever Nell wasimagining about him. "I wouldn't dream of changing my mind,"he said. He winced a little at how firm the words came out. Werethey directed more to her or to Ipswich? He wasn't sure himself.He only knew how much he loved Nell Mason, and, at themoment, how little she would believe that if he told her. Not thathe could, not a man as shy as he. Not with Colonel Ipswich—how could he ever have thought him a good man?—hanging onevery word. "Just let me do this." He came closer to her,concerned that she could look so pale. "Please, Nell. Theresimply isn't any other way that we can think of to offer youprotection from Bones."

She was about to reply, when Major Sheffield came to the doorof the dead tent and gestured to them. "I think we had betterhurry this, Jess." He lowered his voice. "The chaplain is in ahurry to leave, and this tent has to come down."

Without thinking, he took Nell's hand and pulled her into the tentwith him. She offered no resistance, and his heart rose a little. Helooked around, grateful that the bodies had already beenremoved.

With a small feeling of relief, he recognized the chaplain, a manwho had sat with him now and then through two years ofshocking days of battle and long nights in the Peninsula. Jess

liked him because he was calm, and never engaged in theologicaldebate, unlike some of his brethren who considered Jesse Randallan especially tempting target. "Mr. Fair-cloth," he said, and heldout his hand. "A special occasion, eh?"

"It is, indeed," Faircloth replied matter-of-factly, as though hespoke from the comforts of a parish sitting room in the country."Nice to have a pleasant occasion." He looked at Nell. "Are yousure you will have this one, Miss Mason?" he asked not unkindly."I believe he is famous in this army for being the shyest man inPicton's Division."

"I will have this man," she replied quietly, and Jess felt his heartstir.

"Mr. Faircloth, you know I am not a Protestant," he began.

"Nor are you a particularly good Catholic, if memory serves me,"the chaplain said, a smile taking what sting there was out of hiswords. "We will overlook that detail in the interests ofexpediency. Here now lad, get yourself over to this side of thefuture Mrs. Randall. Bear her up, if you will. She looks a littlefrightened." He smiled. "As to that I am not sure which of youlooks more frightened! Hang on to each other now. Since I haveyour attention, I always like to give a few words of advice." Hissmile broadened, even as the rear of the tent dropped with awhoosh and Nell moved closer. "I'm certain you will notremember him, but perhaps Major Sheffield here will remind youlater."

And so they were married. For all that the service was in English,and much shorter than weddings of his own faith, Jess Randallknew he would recall little of the contents, beyond his own quiet"yes," and Nell's, hers even quieter. He held his breath for thefew seconds that she paused, then let it out with a rush when sheagreed.

He had no ring, so shook his head when Mr. Faircloth came to

that portion of the ceremony. "It will have to wait for Portugal,"he said.

"Not necessarily."

His chief surgeon came forward. He fumbled at the thin chainabout his neck, pulling it out from his shirtfront, after looseninghis neckcloth. "After all these years," he began, his voiceunsteady, "I have finally found an excellent use for this littlething."

Sheffield removed the ring that Jess knew had never been off hisneck in the years he had known the chief surgeon. Sheffield hadmade few references to the wife who had not survived beyondthe first year of his duty in India with the much younger, untriedWellington. "Oh, sir," he began, but Sheffield silenced him with alook. Tears filled his eyes as his chief, with steady fingers,extracted the ring from the chain.

"What say you, Millie?" Sheffield asked softly. "Did I find a goodenough cause?" He smiled and handed the ring to Jess. "Put it onher finger, lad. When she wore it, Millie wasn't any older thanNell is now. It might even fit. They are much the same size." Heturned to Nell, who was sobbing in good earnest. "Oh, hush now,my dear. You might even look back on this as a happy occasion."

Jess took the ring that his superior held out to him, willing hishand to be as rock steady. Without another word, he slid the ringonto Nell's finger. Quickly he kissed her cheek and then noddedto Sheffield. "I think it almost fits."

The older man kissed Nell, too. He took her hand, and touchedthe ring as she sniffed back more tears. "We'll wind a little stringaround the back. Jess can have it altered when you get toLisbon."

The chaplain seemed to be having a problem with his nose thatrequired his face be engulfed in a large handkerchief. "Drat this

pollen," he murmured.

Jess didn't think it was the time or the place to mention that theweed and grass season was long over in north Spain. "I could giveyou something for that, except that my medicines are all packed,Mr. Faircloth."

The chaplain blew his nose again more briskly, then shook hishead. "It will pass." He cleared his throat and consulted hiswell-worn book again. "Oh, my stars, I have not concluded." Helooked over his shoulder, where soldiers were rolling back thetent. "A little quiet back there, please!" When the men stoppedworking, and after a battery of light artillery passed, he took bothof their hands in his. "Now I pronounce you husband and wife forthe period of your mortal lives."

He said some more, but heavy artillery was passing. Unsure ofhimself again, and feeling more shy than a roomful of shy people,he merely watched as the chaplain signed his name to themarriage lines, and then held out the paper to Major Ipswich for awitness signature. It went next to Sheffield, who signed his namewith a flourish.

"That will do," Sheffield said. He gave Nell another kiss, thenturned and left the tent without another word.

The chaplain waved the paper for a moment until the ink dried,then handed it to Nell. "Put it in a safe place," he admonished. Hekissed her cheek, too. "Cheer up, lass! This might be the bestthing that ever happened to both of you!"

He turned then to whisk the cross and altar cloth off the packingcrate, open it, and stow them inside, along with his prayer book.In another moment he had stripped off his stole and chasuble,folded them with an efficiency that told Jess he had been a longtime with the army, and arranged them in their appointed places.

Jess came closer. "You're sure that was entirely legal?" he asked,

his voice low.

The chaplain beamed at him. "Oh, you Catholics! Just becausewe are not awash in incense, dizzy with Latin, and weary withhours and hours on our feet doesn't mean it won't take!"

"Well, I ..." Jess came closer. "I know there were no banns, andthere is no special license."

"Hush, lad," the chaplain said. "There are certain expedienciesavailable to members of the clergy engaged in the pursuit ofwar."

"Oh?" Jess asked. He didn't mean it to sound skeptical.

"Ye of little faith," Faircloth scolded. "I think it's good for fortyor fifty years at least." He winked at Jess. "After that, I'm notsure. Good luck to you both." He turned to Nell. "My dear, makesure he does what you say." He shook Jess's hand. "This may bethe smartest single act you ever committed." Faircloth gave him apush toward Nell. "Give her a better kiss than that beggarly peck,Captain. She'll think you're not serious."

He was serious. He was equally aware that to express himself inwords was impossible. Even if, in his supreme shyness, hestammered out his love for her, considering the speed of thewedding, he knew she would not believe him. But there she was,her cheeks wiped clean of tears, but her beautiful eyes stillbrimming with emotion. He had stood close to her before, but notthis close. He couldn't trust himself to say anything, but he put hisarms around her and kissed her.

He didn't know what he expected. He knew his own distrust ofstrong emotion in front of others, something trained into him atMilan, and through years of war and his own shyness. None of itmattered right then as he enjoyed the softness of her lips, and thesmall sighing sound that escaped her lips as her arms went aroundhim.

He wished the moment could have lasted longer, but Nell leapedaway from him in surprise when the side of the dead tent camedown with a rush of canvas. The chaplain uttered a mostunclerical expression heard commonly enough in the army, butprobably not in a typical Anglican parish. "You soldiers have nosense of aesthetics!" the man exclaimed, which only broughtlaughter from the laborers.

Jess took Nell's hand then and led her from the tent. He couldn'tthink of a single thing to say, but the matter was taken from himby a shout for help from the direction of the quartermaster'scompound. He only stood still a moment in surprise as ColonelMumford, quartermaster general of Picton's Division, waved tohim frantically. "I say, Randall! Hurry over here! We have a bitof a problem! Oh, do hurry! I think I shall faint!"

Hippocrates, I will wager that you never had to deal with a manmilliner like our dear quartermaster, he thought. He tugged Nellalong with him toward the quartermaster, who stood wringing hispudgy hands. His face was alarmingly red, but Jess had heardfrom Sheffield of the enormous quantity of brandy the QMalways seemed to have in stock, even when no other officercould find a bottle. Drunkards are devotedly to be ignored, hethought, even though his training took over and he ran toward theman.

What lay before them in front of the quartermaster made Nellgasp, and Jess to recoil briefly, before he went down on his kneesbeside the prostrate man lying on his side. The soldier's handswere clutched around a knife in his stomach. Jess carefullymoved him onto his back, then sat back on his heels inamazement as he stared at Private Wilkie, he who had gonemissing earlier in the day.

As the quartermaster moaned, turned away, and threw himselfinto a folding chair, the private opened his eyes and gave a long,slow wink. While the QM fanned himself vigorously with one of

his numerous order books, Wilkie whispered to Jess, "Sir, me andHarper have solved your money problem. If you can get me toNumber Eight before the QM takes a good look, we'll solve yourproblem."

Why is none of this registering, Jess thought as he stared atWilkie, surprisingly cheerful, despite a knife deep in his gut.Gingerly he pulled back the private's blood-drenched shirt.Wilkie's hand clutched the blade. He groaned out loud, which setthe quartermaster to uttering anxious twitterings of his own. Jessleaned closer over the wound. "Private, you need to let go of thatblade."

Jess's eyes widened in surprise as Wilkie chuckled. "It wasHarper's idea, and wasn't it a good one?"

"What on earth . . ."

Wilkie moved his hand away, and Jess stared at the blade, which,from all appearances, had been carefully inserted into the mouthof the little fistula that formed Wilkie's amazing wound. "Cow'sblood, sir," the private said, his voice low in a conspiratorialwhisper. "They're slaugh-tering'm out back for the retreat."

"What have you done?" Jess asked in a fierce whisper of his own,even as the quartermaster began to whimper and call for smellingsalts.

Wilkie continued to grin at him. "Sir, I have the other fiftypounds! You don't need to do anything drastic!"

Chapter Five"Nell, see what you can do for the quartermaster," he said, then

looked up to see that Nell was already at the man's side. He

turned his attention back to Wilkie. "You are a disgrace to youruniform," he snapped, keeping his voice low. "Where is Harper?"

"He'll be here directly, I am sure," the private said, then groanedagain for good effect. "The QM 'ere—Lord love him—sent 'arryinside the tent to find some cotton wadding for me wound."

Hippocrates, I wouldn't trust 'arry in a roomful of Jesuits, Jessthought sourly. "Harper!" he bellowed. "Show yourself!" Heglanced at Nell, who gave him a reproachful look, and returnedher attention to the quartermaster.

In a moment Private Harper came out of the quartermaster's tent,his hands full of cotton wadding, with a righteous look on hisface. "Captain, remember how you never could get any of thisstuff from the quartermaster? He has rolls of it."

As Jess glowered at the private, he couldn't help ask himself if hewas more irritated at Harper, or the quartermaster. He turned hisattention to Private Wilkie, who began to writhe about as a smallcrowd gathered. "Do give him room," Jess ordered. "Surely all ofyou have something better to do." Oh, Lord, I am encouragingthese two thieves, he thought as he carefully grasped the knife,gave it a yank, and played along.

The knife came away quite easily, as he knew it would, becauseit barely rested inside Wilkie's curious abdominal fistula. Thequartermaster shrieked, which only earned the man a hard starefrom Nell. Well, Hippocrates, did you ever fall among thieves? heasked himself as he daubed at the wound, allowing the cottonwadding to soak up the cow's blood that had pooled sodramatically under Wilkie. Hating himself for such malpractice,Jess directed Harper to hold his hand tight over Wilkie's spuriouswound while he dug in his medicine satchel, extracted a goodlength of bandage, and wrapped it quickly in place. "That shoulddo until I get him back to the hospital," he told the quartermaster."You won't mind if I take along this wadding, will you? I thought

not."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Harper to make anotherrapid reconnaissance of the QM's tent to look for laudanum andnew scalpels, but he resisted. Instead, he motioned for hisstretcher bearers, and wondered what else the enterprisingprivate had liberated from the QM's too-abundant stores.

While the bearers were loading Wilkie onto the stretcher—Wilkie had been so obliging as to fake a swoon—Jess looked atthe quartermaster. A rapid glance told him there was nothingwrong with the man except an overactive imagination. Howmuch have you been cheating this army? he thought, after takingthe man's pulse. "What on earth happened here?" he asked, notbecause he wanted to know, but because the QM might besuspicious if he didn't ask.

"The private ran in front of my tent as though Soult himself wason his ass," he said. "I had just sat down to eat my beefsteak." Helooked around. "Where is it?"

Probably down the front of 'arry 'arper's uniform blouse, Jessthought sourly. "I didn't know anyone had any beefsteak left," hesaid. "You were fortunate, indeed."

The QM realized his mistake. "Well, yes, rather," he stammered,and chose not to continue that line of conversation. "Shouldn'tyou hurry on to tend that poor sod?"

Jesse nodded and gestured to Nell, who fell into step beside him.She was looking so forlorn and puzzled that he clapped his armaround her shoulder and pulled her close. "Don't worry, Mrs.Randall. There's not a thing wrong with Wilkie." He whispered toher what the man had done. She started to laugh. It was adelightful sound, and so unexpected right then that a wagoneerstopped to stare, and then grinned as he turned back to hisless-than-cooperative mule.

"Why would he do such a thing?" she asked.

He was pleased when she put her own arm around his waist soshe could match his stride easier. "I haven't the slightest notion,"he replied. "Wilkie and Harper constitute two members of amalingerer's army ever bent on mischief." Even as he said that,he felt the stirring of an idea so awful that he dismissed itimmediately.

Jess didn't think Bones was following them, and truth to tell, hedidn't care. He had walked with Nell before, but only on anerrand, or as part of some duty. This was different. He relaxed hisgrip on her shoulders, just to see if she would loose her hold onhim. To his pleasure, she did not. She seemed content to walkbeside him.

When they returned to Number Eight, Major Sheffield was in thetent they shared, packing his own effects. Dan O'Leary, lookingmore indignant than fifty overworked hospital stewards, glared atPrivate Wilkie. Lying on the stretcher with his hand claspedaround the bloody wound, Wilkie grinned at him. "Explainyourself, Private," he said as he pulled up a stool beside him.

Before Wilkie could speak, Harper pulled four little brown vialsout of his sleeve and set them in a row beside Jess. "I believeyou've been wanting this, sir," he said.

O'Leary seemed to forget his pique in an instant. "Laudanum!" heexclaimed as he looked over Jesse's shoulder.

Hippocrates, I can use this, Jess thought as he stared at thebottles. He looked up at the private as the man pulled a slimcanvas case from his uniform blouse, where Jess had suspected abeefsteak resided. Harper undid the ties with a flourish, and Jessstared at a row of scalpels. They practically glowed, gleamingsteel catching a glimpse of the watery sun to blink back at him inthat wicked way of scalpels.

"I can't possibly take these," he protested. "I just couldn't," hesaid, ashamed at how feeble his protestation sounded.

Harper only shrugged and retied the strings. "Sir, you want me totake them back so the QM can sell them to some Spaniard whowill sell 'um to the French? Begging your pardon, sir, but that'snot a good idea."

"No, it isn't," Jess agreed, amazed at how little his conscience wasalready bothering him. I will become as depraved as 'arry,'ippocrates, he thought, with some amusement. "Oh, hell, I'll keepthe scalpels. Use 'um on you, Harper, and give you a high voice."

His amusement vanished when Harper reached inside his pants."Ain't it amazing what a good distraction will get?"

Jess stared, speechless, as the private groped around in his roomypants—Nell looked away—and pulled out a handful of coins. Hesprinkled them like golden rain onto Wilkie's stretcher, thenlooked at Nell. "There you are, Miss Mason. Didn't I hear thesurgeon here tell us to empty our budgets this morning to keep 'imfrom a desperate act?" He winked at her. "Wilkie and I wasthinking creatively."

"I'm . . . I'm afraid he already had to do the desperate act," Nellsaid, her voice subdued. "I know you meant well."

"Meant well?" Jesse burst out. "He's a damned thief! My God,Private, one word from me and you're with the provost marshalfrom now until Portugal!"

"If you can find him, sir, begging your pardon," Harper said."We're on retreat."

Jess looked hard at the private. There was nothing of thatirritating kind of subservience in his voice that he had becomeaccustomed to from the man. "Explain yourself, Private," hesnapped, lowering his voice, because he could hear Jenks startingto hyperventilate, three cots over. "Go to him, Dan," he said,

tired all of a sudden.

Harper crouched beside Wilkie's stretcher. "Pardon me, sir, but ittakes a thief to know a thief. Wilkie and me, we've watched youskimp on everything here, and we've seen you and the Chief fillout QM reqs by the wad."

No denying that, Jess thought. "There was no call for this." I am aweak man, indeed, he thought as Harper continued to press hispoint. Why am I not scooping up those guineas and rushing backto our QM with my apologies? He sighed.

"I heard you say only this morning, sir, that the army would bebetter off if someone tied the QM to an anvil and dropped 'im inthe river," Harper concluded.

"I did," Jess said wryly. "And now you've picked a lock in theQM's tent and liberated what you feel is rightfully ours."

Harper grinned and poked Wilkie on the stretcher. "Told you ourdarlin' surgeon here was a bright one! Trust me, sir, he won't evenmiss this."

"Trust you?" he exclaimed. "I'm not in my dotage, Harper!"

"No, indeed, sir," the private agreed. "You can't be more thanthirty."

Jess sighed again and stared long and hard at the private. I amarguing with a thief and a scoundrel who robbed another thiefand a scoundrel, he told himself. And the deuce of it is, I actuallythink he did this out of the goodness of his heart. "How much didyou take, Harper?" he asked finally.

The private knew surrender when he heard it, obviously. Hesmiled, and Jess was hard put to resist smiling back. "Sir, you saidMiss Mason here needed fifty-two pounds." He looked at Wilkie."We thought maybe sixty pounds would grease her through a badspot, supposin' that old Bones had a few more pounds to up the

ante over Captain Mason. Beggin' your pardon, Miss Mason, butyour da is a little lean on scruples."

"And you're not?" Jess said, unable to resist.

"I know what I am," Harper said simply. "She needed our help,didn't she? Hold out your apron, Miss Mason. This is yours."

When she only looked at him, the private seemed less sure ofhimself. "We're too late?" he asked, then turned his attention toJess. "She's still here."

"She's my wife, Private," he said. "While you were robbing theQM, I married her to keep Bones away." Oh, God, he thought,that's not even true. I married her because I have loved her thesetwo years and more probably. He knew he couldn't say that. Heknew it would sound even stranger than his public reason.

He didn't want to interpret the look Nell gave him; he hadn't theheart. As she deflated before his eyes, he knew he was a worsethief than Harper, because he had robbed her of her dignity.Silence filled the tent, broken only by Jenks' ragged breathing andthe steady whoosh of the bellows. He didn't know what to say.

Nell spoke, but it wasn't to him. "I'll take your money, PrivateHarper," she said, and he could hear she was on the ragged edgeof tears. "I'll give it to my father." Her voice faltered then. "No,I'll find Major Bones and give it to him. No telling what my fatherwould do with sixty pounds."

No, he thought, no. "Private, I'll find Bones. Nell, you're myresponsibility now." He wanted her to look him in the eye, butshe was too ashamed. "Nell, please, it isn't quite what you think."He touched her arm. "Nell, I mean it."

She had withdrawn from him. It wasn't a physical gesture; she didnot flinch when he touched her. He kept the pressure on her arm,but she was in another place deep inside herself. "Nell. It'll be allright. I promise," he told her. He meant it with all his heart, but

he wondered how many other promises had been broken in herlife. And this is one more, he thought. Oh, Hippocrates, whycouldn't I have been an architect or the man who sells gelato onstreet corners?

He took the money from Harper. "Wilkie, when I get back I'mgoing to sew up that fistula of yours before it gets you in moretrouble. Harper, during this retreat you had better be on your bestbehavior. No lock pickings, no stealing, no creativity!"

He got up and went to the tent opening. To his surprise, Nellfollowed him. "I'm sorry I could not think of something else,Captain," she began. She looked down at the ground. "Mama . . .Mama always used to say what a good contriver I was, and I ..."

He put his finger to her lips. "Don't, Nell," he said softly. "Maybeyou've had to do too much contriving for someone your age." Herface was so sad that he wondered if he was right to speak."Maybe neither of us thought when we woke up this morning thatwe'd be married by suppertime, but since we are, you can shareyour worries with me."

It was the most he had ever said to her at once. Even though itsounded stupid to his ears, Nell raised her head and looked at himas though she had never considered such a thing. "Do you reallymean that?" she asked quickly.

"With all my heart." He touched her cheek. "And now I'd betterfind your father and then Major Bones."

She shook her head. "He will only spend it before he gets toBones."

"I must disagree, Nell," he told her. "It is more than likely that weare all charting a course toward each other. "He took out histimepiece. "Didn't the good major give your father until sixo'clock? When I find your father, I will find Bones." He saw thefear in her eyes. "Nell, don't worry so much! It appears to me that

thanks to my larcenous patients we have quite neutralizedBones."

"I pray you are right," she said finally. "Do this for me: take alongHarper."

"I wouldn't take him across the street!"

To his dismay, Nell's eyes welled with tears. She swallowed, anddabbed at her eyes with her apron. "Didn't the chaplain tell youto do what I say?" she asked.

Jess sighed inwardly. Hippocrates, I am less than an hourmarried, and already she has run out the heavy guns, he thought."Very well, but only because I cannot deal with tears!" He lookedat Harper, reached deep within himself for some patience, andgestured at the man. "Private, you are to accompany me to findCaptain Mason."

"That's right sensible of you, Captain, if you don't mind me sayingso," the private said.

And if I did? Jess asked himself wearily. "Oh, come along."

Harper saluted in so haphazard a fashion that Jess could only begrateful that no one stood on parade. "I believe you must be thepoorest excuse for a soldier in all the armies in Spain," hedeclared.

His mutterings didn't seem to daunt the private, who merelybeamed at him as though he had been paid a compliment byWellington himself. "Aye, sir, but I am very big, where you, ifyou will beg my pardon, are not."

He thought he would have no trouble finding Mason. Bones hadsaid this morning that the captain would be drinking. If the manfollowed the pattern that Jess had observed during long yearswith the division, he would be drunk by noon, then remorseful byafternoon. By six o'clock, Jess reckoned, Mason would be low,

indeed. His pattern was to come crawling home then.

Audrey Mason's remains were already coffined. Accompanied byhis escort, Jess went first to the burying field. Under the watchfuleyes of a provost sergeant, two French prisoners were diggingpits for the recent deaths in the command. He thought of Jenksthen, barely breathing back in the hospital tent, and wondered ifhe should requisition a coffin for the retreat. Mason was not atthe burying field, which hardly surprised Jess. Father-in-law, youare a coward, he thought. You treated your wife poorly when shelived, and you cannot face her now that she is dead.

He found his father-in-law in his ramshackle house, sitting on astool that was the only thing remaining. Jess knew that Nell hadretrieved nothing from the place because she had fled from itwith the clothes on her back, but it was picked clean. Mason, hisface more vacant than usual, appeared lost in thought, but Jessknew that thinking was not his strong suit. It must be an alcoholichaze. Indicating with his head for Harper to remain outside, hewent in through the open door and stood in front of the man onthe stool.

"I have ninety pounds for you, Captain," he said, "but I'm goingto wait here and give it to Major Bones." He knew he shouldn'tcontinue, but he did. "You're a pitiful excuse for a soldier, and aworse father." He dropped the money in Mason's lap. He couldn'tremember when he had ever said anything so unkind, but hiswords barely seemed to register. Captain Mason merely nodded,and stared straight ahead.

"I also married your daughter so Bones couldn't get his hands onher."

His bald words penetrated then. Captain Mason looked at him,his face incredulous and then heavy with relief. "Thank God," hesaid fervently, and Jess actually thought he meant it.

Jess thought of all the unpleasant things he could say. He could

remind Mason that he had been bailed out yet again, and notrequired to be accountable. He could have scolded, chided, andhumiliated Mason as he had heard others do, but he did not havethe heart. Instead, he put his hand on the captain's shoulder andgave it a little shake. "I will take good care of her, sir," he saidsoftly. "You need not worry about her again."

If you ever did, he thought as he watched Mason's face. I ampretending that you care what happens to her. No matter whathappens to you or me, I never need to have on my consciencethat I kicked you when you were already prostrate. It's notsomething that is going to lie between me and Nell at nights, if weever progress to that point.

"What brings you here, Randall?"

He didn't have to look around to know it was Major Bones, buthe looked anyway. Harper stood behind the major, shrugging hisshoulders.

He couldn't help himself; the man frightened him and repulsedhim at the same time. For a brief moment he tightened his grip onMason's shoulder, then looked down at his father-in-law whenthe captain touched his hand with his own, as if in reassurance."It's all right, Captain," Mason said under his breath. "I've beenhere before." With a visible effort, as though he were the mosttired man on earth, Mason raised his face to the major. "Well,Major, is this our day of reckoning?"

"Call it what you want, Mason," the major said. "I know youdon't have any money, and I mean to take care of your daughter.You can go, Randall. Surely there's a bedpan somewhere toempty. Tell Nell Mason I have her clothes and other effects inwith my equipage."

He started to make some reply, but Mason interrupted him, histone apologetic.

"Major, I have the money here." He hefted the bag once, almostlongingly, and Jess wondered if he was thinking of all the drinksand good times it would contain, if he kept it. "Take it, sir. Thankyou for the loan, and thank you for your kind consideration formy daughter, but she doesn't need you now."

Jess wanted to laugh at the astonishment on Bones' face, but themoment was too highly charged. The major took the money in thehandkerchief, staring at it as though he expected pus to oozefrom the folds. "My God," Bones exclaimed, breathing the wordin a way that made the hair stand on Jess's neck. "She still needsan escort, Mason, now that your wife is dead. I aim to be thatman."

"You're too late, Major," Captain Mason said calmly. There wasnothing of defeat in his voice now; Jess could hardly recognizehis tone. "Captain Randall here married my dear one thisafternoon."

Jess wished he had leisure to analyze the finality and triumph inCaptain Mason's voice. What a weak man you are, he marveledto himself. I can almost think that you truly are giving a thoughtto Elinore now, when it is too late.

"By God, you're joking," Bones said, his voice more a growl thanhuman speech.

"Not at all. When he thought—as I am certain everyone in ourdivision thought—that Bertie Mason would not come throughagain, he married my girl," Mason said. "You're too late."

Jess had cause to reflect, in the coming weeks, on the mischiefthree words could do. As he heard them coming in undisguisedrelief from Captain Mason, he knew that Major Bones' cup ofbile—already full—ran over. He waited for Bones to slap himdown to a bleeding nubbin.

Bones did nothing, even though the small room seemed almost to

swell with his anger. He stared at the money handkerchief in hishand, and then at Jess. The tension was so palpable that Harperleft his post by the door and came into the room.

"Captain Randall, you will regret this."

What will you do to me? Jess thought wearily. There are somerules in our society, rough as it is, and even you have to abide bythem. "I love her," he said quietly. "1 always have."

Bones smiled then, and it was an awful sight. "Hold thatthought," he replied, his voice low and filled with menace. He leftthe room quietly, his face a study in control. The men in the roomeach heaved a sigh of relief. "Well, that was better than Ithought, Jess," Mason said finally. He stood there a long moment,as if wondering what to do.

"I believe your company needs you," Jess reminded him gently.

"Oh, yes." He extended his hand. "Do take good care of mydaughter," he said, and then shook his head, as if realizing howfatuous he sounded. "It will be the first time anyone has done so.What a novelty for her." He made no effort to hide the shame inhis voice. His eyes on the ground, Captain Mason left the house.

Jess walked back to the marching hospital in silence, Harpertrailing along behind. The chief surgeon was in Number Eight.The last carton of supplies was tied with twine almost as carefullyas though something was in it that would do any good. "We'll befine if we meet with no emergencies, Jess," he said, his voicecheerful. "I am devoutly, fervently wishing for a retreat as boringas nature and war will allow. Do I ask too much?"

Jess smiled. "We can dream." He looked at his wife, who sat byJenks' cot, her hand in his. "Ho, Jenks," he called. "You'll makeme jealous." He was rewarded with a blush from Elinore, and thesketch of a smile from the man who labored to breathe.

He made his rounds, and regretfully dismissed six more patients.

He did not think Jenks would last out the week on a retreat. Twopatients might improve—those two sitting up in their cots—if therain would let up, and they could rest frequently. Restorativejellies would be nice, as well, he thought, and porridge withcream and the occasional egg. Oh, Hippocrates, did ever asurgeon blather on to you as I am doing now?

"What is our order of march?" he asked Sheffield.

The Chief looked up from the roster in his hand. "The ThirteenthFoot is moving out now, and the Tenth is coming behind them."He looked closer at the roster in the failing light. "By morning,we will be escorted by our own favorite Eleventh."

"Good," Jess said fervently, thinking of his particular friends inthat regiment, trusted men who watched his back when he wastoo busy to care for his own safety at Bussaco and Fuentes, andthen Salamanca. Just knowing they would be marching with theEleventh gave him his first peaceful moment since he said "I do"in the dead tent.

Sheffield came closer. "Dan and I will sleep here in the hospitaltonight. You and Nell can have the tent."

He couldn't resist a smile at his mentor. "Chief, it's going to be along time before Elinore and I share a cot."

Sheffield's reply didn't surprise him, but it did make him wish thatthrough all these years of war and worry, he had been able toknow the man better. "Jesse, would it surprise you to know thatsometimes there is nothing finer than simply holding the hand ofa lovely woman, or talking to her? I think you're going to learn alot from Nell."

"More than she will learn from me?" he joked, touched atSheffield's interest.

The chief surgeon smiled back. "You really have no notion ofhow obvious your own integrity is, do you? Oh, don't blush Jess.

It's true." He came close enough to put his arm around Jess. "Theonly thing Nell needs to learn from you is that you will never lether down."

"I won't, you know," he said quickly.

"See that you don't.

* * *

"He usually liked that moment in a marching hospital before thelights went dim, when all the patients had been tended andeverything had been put in order. He stood a long moment beforeJenks' cot. Dan already sat there, ready for the first watch. Jesstouched his shoulder, and left the tent. He stood at the entranceto the sleeping tent for a long moment, wondering why he felt souneasy, even during this twilight moment that usually broughthim the most pleasure. He reckoned finally that there wasn'tmuch that Major Bones could do to him. Surely he had his ownresponsibilities on the retreat.

Elinore sat on the cot where the chief surgeon usually slept. Hiseyes went to the blue beads in her lap, and he sat down acrossfrom her on his own cot. "Did the Chief give those to you? Hesaved them all these years, and re-strung them."

Her eyes glistened with tears. "He said he would get me a betterwedding present when we were all safe behind the lines again,Captain." She let the beads click through her fingers. "I wasawfully young then, wasn't I?"

You've never been allowed to be young, my love, he thought."Yes, you were. Elinore, you can call me Jesse or Jess now."

"I will, eventually," she said.

He was too tired to comment, and maybe a little irritated withhimself. Silly you, he thought. You're married a few hours understrange circumstances, and you think it will be Jess right off, no

matter how many years she's known you? He took off his shoesand lay down on the cot. There was so much he wanted to say tothe lovely lady sharing the tent with him, but his eyes closed andhe slept instead.

He slept soundly all night, only dimly aware of Elinore sleepingon the other cot, and then aware of nothing until the Thirteenthpulled out, and the Tenth pulled in. Or was it the Eleventh?Amazing how his tired mind could hear the rattle of chains andtack, the creak of leather, the suck and pull of heavy wheelsrolling through mud, then filter it out.

He woke just as the sun was coming up. He glanced at Elinorecurled up in the other cot, her breathing even and deep, then layback to enjoy the moment of silence.

Silence. In one motion he was on his feet and out of the tent. Thechief surgeon and Dan were ahead of him, standing by theopening to the marching hospital, staring as he was staring.

"Where are they?" he asked finally, his voice hoarse from sleep. "Where is the Eleventh?"

Sheffield said nothing for a long moment. His face appeared todrain of all color as he stared at the empty road, and the vacantclearing across it. "Dan, get me the roster," he said. His voicesounded unfamiliar to Jess.

In another moment he held the retreat order in his hands. He readit again as Jess stood beside him, hardly breathing, then balled upthe paper and lobbed it into the middle of the road, where itquickly absorbed water from last night's rain, and sank in awagon wheel rut.

"Damned foolish of me," he said finally, sounding more tired thanif he had spent the day and night in surgery. "I must be gettingold. I forgot that Major Bones was in charge of the order ofmarch," he said. "Jess, I fear we have been abandoned."

Chapter SixNo one seemed to know what to say; maybe what had happenedwas too big for words. I must be awfully naive, Jess thought when

his mind began to work again. It's beyond me to think that abrother officer and an Englishman would do something so

wicked.

Nell stood beside him, leaning against his shoulder and probablynot even aware of it. Her face paled as she took in the emptinessaround the marching hospital. "It was Bones, wasn't it?" she saidat last, and her voice sounded unfamiliar in its shock. He nodded,unable to trust his own voice.

"I am so sorry," she said, then turned away from him andSheffield. The shame in her voice lashed at his heart. As hewatched, miserable, she moved closer to the road and stoodthere, apart from them, as the sky lightened.

When the sun had cleared the low mountains, he could see,strewn across the soggy road, remnants of clothing, some shardsof crockery, and a few bare sticks that might have been furniture,all driven into the mud by gun carriages, wagons, marching men,and horses' hooves. He only had to wonder for a minute what itwas, because Elinore started to sob. She raised her skirt as thoughshe was going to plunge into the quagmire after the pitifulfragments. He started for her, but she stopped.

He stood there, stymied by his own indecisiveness. He did notknow whether he should go to Elinore, or leave her alone at theroad's edge. A great lot of good I have been doing her since ourwedding, he thought as the Chief walked to the road and claspedan arm around his wife's shoulder.

"Clever of him, and so simple really," Sheffield said, his toneboth bracing and conversational, perhaps to put Eli-nore at rest."It couldn't have been hard, especially in the dark, to let eachregiment think it was being followed by another that would escortus. Clever." The Chief kissed Elinore's forehead. "My dear, youknew his measure far better than the rest of us, didn't you? Well,good riddance to him is what I say."

Elinore sighed. To Jess's dismay, he could see nothing of thecheerful lady who served so faithfully in the marching hospital.He came closer to hear what she said against the chief surgeon'schest. "Do you think we Masons are going to be bad luck forever,Chief?"

He thought then that Dan O'Leary must have given him a pushforward, but he couldn't be sure. He cursed his own shyness, butfound his voice. "You're a Randall now, Elinore," he said whenhe got over his surprise at suddenly standing so close to his wife."A Randall," he repeated. The Chief stepped back and pointedElinore in his direction. With so much encouragement, he had noqualms about taking her hand. "We Randalls have nothing butbonny luck. It's written on our crest, Elinore: 'Luck follows love.'"

"There you are then, dearie," Sheffield said. He smiled at themboth and then nodded to Daniel. "Come, lad! We'd better prepareour patients for travel." He nodded to Jess. "I'm appointing you tofigure out how we're going to get out of here." He winked. "Sinceyou have all that luck, Captain Randall, eh?"

If his chief had told him to sprout wings and fly to the lines ofTorres Vedras, he could not have been more surprised. Angerfollowed: How dare he give me the impossible task, Hippocrates?Shame tread on anger's heels when he glanced down at the fear inhis wife's eyes. Humility traipsed along behind them both, eyescast down as always. He thought of everything he had promisedwhen he swore Hippocrates' stupid oath. Nowhere did anything

explain this situation, but the burden was his. So be it.

First things first; even Jenks and his labored breathing could waitfor a moment. He draped his arm around Elinore's slightshoulders and stooped a little to whisper in her ear. "Elinore, Idon't want you to doubt that I can do this," he whispered. "I cantell you not to worry, but I know you will. I insist, however, thatyou don't go into agonies about arriving at a solution by yourself.Let me do that now."

She seemed to understand what he meant. "What can I do tohelp?" she whispered back, after a moment's thought, her cheekstill close to his, her lips near his ear this time.

Give her something to do. "Under my cot I have a cotton satchellike this leather one I carry my medicine in," he told her. "Get inmy trunk and figure out what I should transfer to the satchel.We're all going to be traveling light."

She nodded and went into the sleeping tent, leaving him with thelarger problem. He wanted to follow her, sit on his cot, and waitfor Sheffield to take charge. He wanted to feel sorry for himself,but a larger thought intruded and would not leave. Obviously hethinks I can make order out of this mess, he told himself. PerhapsI can.

Thoughtfully, he walked around the marching hospital, lookingfor a solution. Bones had left nothing behind that would be of anyuse, except the tent and all the cots inside. And that was it, pureand simple. "Well, now," he said out loud.

He was back in his tent in a moment. Elinore looked up insurprise. She held up one of his shirts. "These are all disgraceful,"she scolded. "Didn't you ever go to a party in Lisbon? I knowwhy I am shabby, but why are you so shabby?"

He had the grace to feel a twinge of embarrassment. "I'd reallyrather flop on my cot with a good book, Elinore," he told her.

"Even in Lisbon. Oh, especially in Lisbon." He grinned at her."And now you're regretting your marriage to such a boring man, Ivow."

She said nothing, returning no answer beyond a blush. She lookedso darling there with his shirts in her hands that he wanted totouch her in places anatomical and see if she reacted as hislecturer on partes delta femina predicted. He did not doubt thathe had the touch, which brought a blush to his own face.

Back to the problem, or rather, its solution. "Elinore, come withme now. I need an interpreter."

She asked no questions, but dropped the shirts on his cot andfollowed him from the tent. He told himself that he took her handto hurry her along, but he knew he just wanted to feel that muchof her.

It was a short walk through muddy streets to the alcalde'sheadquarters. He didn't know what it was constructed of, but thewhole structure seemed to be peeling. A sharp rap on the doorbrought the alcalde himself, looking impatient and ready to bedisagreeable, rather like a burdened relative who has beenpraying for his houseguests to leave, and feeling no patience forthe stragglers remaining.

Before he had a chance to close the door on them, Jess greetedhim in Spanish and asked to come inside. "We are allies," hereminded the Spaniard pointedly, and it gained them entrance,although not the offer of a seat or a glass of wine. Never mind; hedidn't require niceties. He had explained the whole matter toElinore on the walk. He looked at her, and she began at once.

She had a lovely accent, and Jess found himself doublyimpressed. Who, he reasoned, would ever turn down such asweet-faced lady?

It appeared to be a hard bargain. Elinore stated her case, and

listened to the return flow from the alcalde. She inclined her headtoward Jess. "He says he will give you a wagon for the tents andcots, but not a single horse. He says he has none to spare."

"He's a liar," Jess whispered back. "What good is a wagonwithout horses?"

She returned to the bargaining. Don't promise him too much, Jessthought. "He will not budge beyond a wagon. In fact, he wants toknow what is stopping him from taking the whole lot after weleave? He reminds us that the French are just waiting behind thewalls of Burgos for us to leave."

"Please tell the old wind satchel that we are still allies— in casehe has forgotten—and that I promise to put a torch to the tentand the cots, rather than give them up."

She turned her charm upon the alcalde again, but even Jess couldtell that the man had no other offer to make. Without botheringto wait for her translation, he told her to take the man's offer."And tell him to bring the wagon to the marching hospital rightaway."

"We still don't have any horses, Captain," she reminded himwhen they left.

He tightened his grip on her fingers. "My dear, I am about toengage in real skullduggery. Please look away. It is probably toomuch to ask you to stop your ears. Harper!" he called as theyneared the tent. "I want you now!"

I can't believe I am about to do this, he thought as the privatethrew back the tent flap and gave another of his patently slovenlysalutes. "Harper, you are to find me two horses. I don't care howyou do it. If you squirreled away any of the QM's money when Iwasn't watching, use that. If your pockets are as to let as mine,just get me horses. Take Wilkie." He thought a moment. "In fact,you may exchange him for horses."

Harper laughed. "Who'd want'im? Sir, you told me I was never todo anything underhanded again," he reminded Jess virtuously.

"What a fool I was, Private," Jess replied. "Overlook it, please.Now, do it."

With a grin of absolute understanding, Harper sloped off. Jesstook Elinore's hand again and went back to his tent. As shewatched, he picked out the best shirt and trousers among histatters, one book of surgery in Italian that he could not bear topart with, a pair of shoes, and his comb and toothbrush. Hecrammed them in the canvas satchel and picked up his overcoat.

"You will take your rosary," she said, putting it in the satchel.

"I am not much of a Catholic," he told her.

"You might want it," she said calmly. "And this bay rum."

"Oh, my dear, I don't need that," he said in protest.

"I like it."

Oh, you do? he asked himself. I had no idea. "Very well. I hate todisappoint the ladies."

The alcalde's men brought the wagon and immediately began todismantle the tent. Jess could hardly hide his disappointment atthe wagon, a miserable affair with wobbly wheels and only roomfor two stretchers. The axles and wheels were entirely of woodand looked drier than bones. (Oh, dreadful word.) Well, it willnot be a silent retreat from Number Eight of the Peninsular RoyalMedical Corps, he thought.

After some discussion, he and Dan lowered the stretcher bearingJenks into the wagon bed. The second stretcher barely fit, andwas occupied by three patients who had only room to sit up,rump to rump, and lean back against the rough wood. "Chief, canyou squeeze yourself in the wagon bed, too?" he asked.

"I should probably walk and let Elinore ride," Sheffield protested,but he made no more objection when Jess insisted. Jess watchedhim climb carefully into the wagon, wondering to himself whenthe Chief got old. It must have been during the siege, he decided,only I was too busy to notice. Best he should ride.

There they sat as the sun rose higher. The alcalde's servants, whohad always seemed so slow-moving when urged on any errand oreffort during the siege, moved with startling speed. In a flash thetent was down, the ropes and pegs stowed in a canvas bag, andthe cots folded. As they carried away the tent, other townspeoplecame out to point at the wagon and laugh out loud.

"We do seem to be lacking any form of locomotion," Sheffieldcommented, "but how nice to provide a moment of comic relieffor our stalwart allies. Do you suppose Noah felt this way insidethe ark before it started to rain?"

Jess felt his face grow hot. He wondered if Harper, with Wilkie intow, had decided to find his own route to the Portuguese border,one that didn't involve the hindrance of the wounded. The Chiefcleared his throat rather louder than was necessary, and Jess wasjust glancing his way when the guns went off.

Elinore shrieked and crowded herself close to him as the groundshook, and a mound of black smoke coming from the cemeterywreathed upward in the sky. After a startled pause, the villagerswho had gathered ran away. When the road was clear, Harperand Wilkie came riding over the small crest on horseback, Harperwith black powder on his face and a grin. He waved to Jess."Lord love us, I still think a diversion is the best medicine forwhat ails us, Captain. Lend me a hand now, sir."

Lend he did, asking no questions as he helped the soldiers hitchup the horse, one quite geriatric and the other taking mincingsteps to show its dislike of the smoke and noise. It was a beautifuldun, with an elegant saddle, and it took vast exception to being

yoked to a wagon. Elinore stood at the edge of the road, her eyeson the great mushroom of smoke, then hurried to his side as soonas he stepped back.

Harper moved faster than Jess had ever seen before. "Uh, arethese animals soon to be missed?" Jesse asked finally. He tossedthe reins up to Wilkie, who with a grimace and a grunt, hadclimbed into the wagon. In another moment they were underway.

Harper fell into step beside him. "Not sure, sir, but Wilkie and Ithought it best to set off a little alarm; you know, something toclear the streets of riffraff."

Jess stopped then, and waited for Dan O'Leary to hand him hismedical satchel. O'Leary shouldered his other bag and shook hishead when Jess tried to take it. There was another explosion andthen another. "My word, Harper!" Jess declared. "Did you alwaysharbor a secret wish to be part of the artillery? I think even SirArthur would be impressed."

The private shook his head, his face serious. "That's the French,Captain. They must think we have a ruddy arsenal. D'ye think wecould step out a little smarter now?"

It was a snail's pace. Jess had the oddest sensation of revisiting achildish nightmare of being eight feet tall and trying to move faston meringue feet, but making no headway as a monsterthundered behind. He expected at any moment to see Souham'sfamous hussars top the rise behind them and come pelting down,screaming that strange, warbling cry of theirs which never quiteserved to mask the zipping sound when saber came fromscabbard. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder, mainlybecause Elinore was watching him with anxious eyes.

Conversation seemed the best idea. "Tell me, Harper," he began,keeping his voice as prosaic as possible. "I know I wasn't going toask, but I am curious where these horses came from, especiallythat dun, who appears to have an exalted lineage."

Harper was a long time in answering. "Sir, let me say it this way:we had no idea how close the French were. I thought they'd stayinside the walls another day." He leaned closer. "And you know,sir? They're pretty sloppy when they think nobody British isaround." He looked back at the pretty horse struggling against theyoke. "I think one of the Frogs is 'opping mad, don't you?"

Jess opened his mouth to say something, but shook his headinstead. Elinore patted his arm. "Perhaps it's time for things to getbetter."

They didn't. Jenks died around two o'clock in the afternoon, wornout from trying to breathe, and the rains began again, furtherslowing their pace. As Sheffield took a final check of the deadman's pulse, Jess went through his usual list, remembering withexcruciating detail every remedy he had ever attempted on Jenks,and asking himself if there were something more he could havedone. When he could not think of one more treatment that wouldhave made a difference, there was nothing to do but cover Jenks'face and keep going.

Elinore continued to earn his admiration. Despite the mud thattugged at her dress hem and the cold rain on her face, sheburrowed deeper in her cloak, gripped his hand, and kept moving.He thought of the ladies his mother had trooped through theestate on his last visit to Scotland, all with incomes, bright faces,and accomplishments. He nudged his wife's shoulder. "Elinore,can you sketch?"

"No."

"Knot a fringe?"

"No!"

"Speak Italian?"

She smiled. "No. I think my Spanish is useful to you, however,considering that all you can say is hello, and how are the missus

and children." She stopped in the road, and he stopped, too,mainly because he had no desire to turn loose of her. "See here,Captain, are you comparing me to ladies you have known?"

She's a bright one, Hippocrates, he thought, but we already knewthat. "Yes, I am, Elinore, and you're coming out rather well."

To his dismay, her eyes filled with sudden tears. "One dress and aborrowed cloak, and you can say that?"

"I can say that. Do mind that puddle, Elinore. I'd hate for you toget your shoes muddy!"

He laughed and stepped out of the way when she took a swing athim with the cloth bag of bandages and plasters she carried. Yes,I can say that, he thought, feeling far too cheerful for someonewho had just lost a patient, wasn't totally sure where he was, andwho, for all he knew, was only a hill or two ahead of the French.Things are looking up, he told himself. Maybe it's time for theluck of the Randalls.

Bedraggled and sore-footed, they came to the village of Santos asthe watery, poor excuse for a sun started to set. He knew thatElinore was flagging; not that she walked any slower, but that shestopped talking, as though needing all her energy to concentrateon putting one foot in front of the other. If only the rain wouldstop, he grumbled in silent frustration. The damp had wicked allthe way up his wife's dress to her waist, and he knew she must becolder than all of them.

It was Santos, because he remembered that the steeple on thechurch had been toppled by one army or the other. While he didnot recall a particularly friendly citizenry on the way up toBurgos in August, his experience told him that eventually thevillagers would scrounge up food from somewhere, and a bed ortwo. He would have Elinore announce in Spanish that he was asurgeon, and promise a clinic before they left in the morning.

They must have just missed Vespers, which surprised Jess,because he thought his timepiece was accurate. He lookedaround. The village seemed almost deserted. With a chill, henoticed that as the wagon creaked by each house, lights went outwithin.

"I don't like this," he whispered to Elinore. "Walk closer to me."

"I suppose they are tired of feeding the British," she said.

Somehow—how he did not know, considering his open nature—he knew that was not the answer, not this night. "Chief, do youthink we should avoid this town?" he asked.

Sheffield swore an oath from inside the wagon. "Jess, I think youmust truly work harder to overcome your somewhat retiringdisposition! What could be more harmless than two surgeons?Besides that, our patients here—remember them?—need a bedand some broth. Wilkie, stop our gallant steeds there in the plaza.Elinore, turn loose of that timid fellow of yours and announce tothe citizens that the surgeons have arrived."

"Of course I will," Elinore replied. She released her tight grip onhis arm. "He doesn't mean to be a grouch," she told Jesse.

And I don't mean to be suspicious, he thought, even as he let herleave his side and walk closer to the wagon. He wanted to callher back, but he did not feel up to another outburst from the chiefsurgeon. Who, I must admit, Hippocrates, has been at thismilitary doctoring business far longer than I have, he thought.Still, am I the only one noticing that candles and lamps are goingout in the houses around us?

He looked around and his unease increased to see dark formsgathering on each narrow street they passed. No one spoke, andhe hoped they chose not to follow. He looked at the wagon,wanting to say something. I am too timid, he thought. He openedhis mouth to speak again, but the wagon stopped; they were in

the plaza.

"It is awfully dark," he ventured as Sheffield, with Harper'sassistance, clambered awkwardly down from the high-sided cart.

"It is November!" Sheffield hissed, but in a low voice that madeJess wonder if the mood of the village was now on him, too. TheChief gestured for Elinore. "Come, my dear, lend me your arm. Iam stiff with sitting." He glared at Jess. "Nell and I will bravelygo find the alcalde and ask his assistance." He paused. "Wewould invite your husband, Nell, but he is too shy. He may tendto the wounded."

Experience told him that there was no reasoning with Sheffieldwhen he was in a black mood. Instead, he nodded to Harper."Private, I am in his black book. Give me a hand up into ..."

"No."

He stopped, startled. He made to say something stern for once,but Harper was not looking at him. The soldier stared over hisshoulder into the center of the plaza.

"No, please," Harper said again, and there was no overlookingthe pain and pleading in his voice, a far cry from his usualwheedling tone.

Jess turned around to see a flash. He winced and instinctivelybraced himself for the explosion, which reverberated in thesquare, surrounded as it was by buildings. His stomach droppedbelow his shoes when Elinore screamed. "Oh, God, no," he said,and ran toward his wife, who stood grasping the chief surgeon.He heard Harper shouting at him to wait, but he could not. Notuntil he was only a few feet from the two of them did he see theneatly drilled hole in the exact middle of Sheffield's forehead.

What happened next happened fast. Sheffield dropped first to hisknees and then facedown in the mud, dragging Elinore with him.Sobbing out loud and calling his name, she tried to turn him over

as she struggled to rise into a sitting position.

He did not see the two men who came out of the plaza's gloom,probably because his eyes were still dazzled by the flash andreport of the musket. They grabbed his arms as Elinore shriekedat them in Spanish, the sound of her terror utterly foreign to hisears. He looked down to feel the muzzle of a pistol jammed justabove his belt. He braced himself again, wishing simultaneouslyfor a priest, and for more time, more time. His life did not flashbefore his eyes; he knew that the breath he drew next would behis last, and he would be as dead as Jenks in the wagon. Heclosed his eyes, dreading the flash more than the ball that heknew would eviscerate him.

Click. Another click. Elinore gasped, and then she was pleadingwith the men who held him, even as she crawled toward him. "Ilove you," he whispered, but she did not seem to hear him aboveher own voice. She was telling them he was a doctor, saying itover and over, first in Spanish, then English, then French, as ifseeking, in her desperation, to find the common language ofchaos.

No one seemed to listen. The pistol clicked once more against hisbelly, then the pressure on his stomach ceased as the weapon waswithdrawn. He took an experimental breath, and then another.His eyes dull now, he watched as the pistol flashed back in awicked swing. It came forward against his head, and heremembered no more.

Chapter SevenElinore held her breath in horror as her husband hung in the gripof the men who held him, then dropped insensibly to the ground

when they let him go. "I tell you, he is a doctor!" she screamed."And so is this man you have killed!"

To her unutterable relief, someone finally seemed to understand.As she watched, crouched there on her hands and knees, awoman ran forward and spoke rapidly to the men who stood soclose around Jesse. She gestured, she spoke, and then the menmurmured to each other and backed away. One of them turnedJesse over, and wiped the blood from his face with the back ofhis hand. He hardly looked in Elinore's direction.

She tried to stand, but her legs felt like jelly. Harper came to herthen, pulling her to her feet and steadying her until she found herbalance. She wanted to tell him thank you, but he was lookingbeyond her to Sheffield, who would never move again.

"Gor, miss," Harper said, his voice subdued. "I doubt he knewwhat hit him. What do you suppose is the matter with thesepeople? If they're supposed to be allies, pray God we never runinto the Frogs on this retreat."

"Something must have happened here," she said. "Oh, please turnthe Chief over. At least get his face out of the mud." Elinore, yougoose, she chided herself, why should that possibly matter now?But it did.

While Harper did as he was told, Elinore approached the womanwho had come from the darkness, and who now held a bloodycloth to Jesse's temple. "I do not know that you will forgive us forthis," she said in Spanish. "The old man was a doctor, too?"

"A surgeon, and you in this village have killed him. For shame,"she murmured, declining to say one more word. She knelt by herhusband's head and raised him to rest in her lap. Elinore felt hishead cautiously. To her relief, she felt no grating bones, no jaggededges. She gathered him close, numb at what happened in lessthan five minutes. She sat there in the dark plaza, wet to thebone, and more alone than at any point in her life.

Then Dan O'Leary knelt beside her, his hand on her shoulder.Like her, his other hand went to Jesse's head, only his probingswere more expert. "He can probably use a suture or two," he saidcalmly, his voice so prosaic that she felt the cloud on her heartlift. "I'll wave this under his nose, and we'll see if he chooses torejoin. . . ." He paused, and shook his head, then gave her anapologetic look. "I was going to say, 'rejoin the human race,' butI'm not so sure they've progressed that far in this village."

Dan held the vial under Jesse's nose. In another moment he wasgroaning and trying to move away from the pungent odor. Hiseyelids fluttered open, and he stared as though trying to focus hisgaze. "Chief?"

Elinore shook her head. "Oh, Jess," she whispered, and held himcloser to her. "One moment he was grumbling to me, and the next. . . Oh, Jess."

He closed his eyes again, and she thought in a panic that he hadgone under and left her alone again. "Please stay here, Jess!" shepleaded with him. "Dan, do something!"

Dan took Jess's face gently in his hands. "Captain? Do you hearme?"

"I do."

"Do you know where you are?"

Jesse was silent for a moment, his eyes still closed. "Not heaven,I'll wager." He shivered. "Too cold for hell. I'll bite, Dan.Where?"

Dan smiled at him, the worried look gone from his eyes. "It's notthe last line to a quip, sir. I just wanted to know if you werelucid."

"I wish I weren't."

Don't we all, Elinore thought, and looked around. The circle of

men seemed smaller, or perhaps they were just standing fartheraway now, in itself a comforting sign. The woman remainedwhere she was. Elinore realized that she had never stoppedtalking.

Jess must have noticed it, too. He frowned up at her. "Elinore,tell her . . . stop. My head . . ."

"Por favor," Elinore said. "Por favor, senora. Le duele lacabeza."

It seemed like a polite hint to Elinore, but the woman did not stopimportuning. She tugged at Elinore's dress now, not mindful ofthe mud, and came even closer to Jesse, even though he hadclosed his eyes again and turned his face toward Elinore's breast,as if wanting to block out everything. She held him close,watched the woman, and then tried to make sense of what shewas saying so persistently.

Gradually her mind calmed, and she began to understand. Shelooked around for Dan, who had returned to the wagon and withHarper and Wilkie's help was lifting out the wounded men. Shecould not help but see the body of her dear surgeon, who lay sostill in her line of sight. "You have made a terrible mistake," shesaid out loud.

"Eh, my dear, I hope you're not referring to me," Jesse said."Even though I did promise you the Randall luck."

"So you did," she replied, and didn't know what else to say. Longago I taught myself not to have any expectations, she thought. Ishan't start now, no matter what he promises. I wonder if we willleave this village alive. She called to Dan, who came to her sideas soon as the patients were leaning against the fountain in theplaza's center.

"Dan, would you go with this woman? She is saying somethingabout her daughter. I think there is a baby."

"Never my strong suit," Dan said. He looked at the woman, whohad transferred her pleading gaze to him now. "Let us bargainwith her first, Nell. Tell her I will go as soon as these men aresafe under a roof."

"You will go now."

Elinore looked down in surprise. Jesse was trying to struggle intoa sitting position. She helped him up. He looked at Dan until hiseyes focused. "I never bargain with desperate people," he saidsimply. "Go with her. We'll see how persuasive Harper can bewith our patients. Call him over, Elinore. It's time he became aforce for good."

Carefully Elinore explained to the woman that she should takeDaniel with her. Don't argue, she pleaded silently as the womanhesitated. My Spanish can't stand up to much nuance. She heldher breath while a variety of emotions—principal among themanxiety—crossed the woman's face. Finally she nodded. Elinorereleased her breath slowly as the woman started off at a trotdown one of the dark streets. Dan watched her go, then looked atJesse, a question in his eyes and some considerable trepidation.

"Just observe. I have taught you that." He paused, then his wordscame out more crisp. "So did the Chief."

"But I have never ..."

Jesse shook his head, then groaned. "Observe, then tell me. Goon."

When Dan followed the woman, Jesse leaned against Nell'sshoulder, as though his neck was not strong enough to support hishead. "Call Harper over here, my dear. Prop me against thefountain, too, and see what you can do for our men."

A thousand objections came to her mind. Let me do somethingfor you, she wanted to tell him. Instead, she indicated for Harperto help her move Jesse. He did better than that. As she watched,

the big man gently plucked her husband off her lap and carriedhim to the fountain, when he leaned him against the tiles. Shehurried after him, gathering up his leather medicine satchel wherehe had dropped it when the men grabbed him. She propped it onone side of him, and the bandages and plasters on the other side.

He smiled at her, his eyes less confused. "Wilkie will stay herewith us. You take Harper and see if you can find a place for thenight. Surely there is a priest."

With Harper—face so serious now—hovering over her like aman with a mission, Elinore took her courage in both hands andapproached the circle of men. In a moment she was in the centerof it, speaking as carefully as she could, almost willing them tounderstand her. To their credit, the men were trying tounderstand her as hard as she was desperate to be understood."We are all that remains of a British hospital, and we were leftbehind through an error," she concluded. "Please help me find aplace for our wounded." She thought a moment, piecing throughher Spanish grammar like a beggar at a rag bag. "If you can dothis, my husband the surgeon will hold a clinic in the morning forany of you who are sick." And if you do not, our retreat will endright here, hardly before it began, she told herself.

The men were silent for a long moment, and Harper lookedabout, as if gauging their chances for a hasty withdrawal. Shetouched his arm and whispered, "That is the way they are,Private. Be patient." She thought of all the tradesmen she hadargued with on her mother's behalf from her youngest years, andthe quiet women with gold hoops in their ears who washed thesoldiers' clothes and sometimes bedded them. She knew theywould think, then talk among themselves, then act.

"We will help you, senora," one of the men said finally. With afew words, he indicated that she should follow them back to thefountain. Despite the mud and damp that weighed down herskirts, and a weariness so deep that there was no name for it, she

thought she could have skipped across the plaza. In anothermoment, Jesse was directing them through her to find the menblankets, and feed them soup, if there was any.

"Y usted, senor?" asked the spokesman.

"Elinore, please tell him I must stay here until Dan returns. Canyou ask him to take the Chief into the church?"

She did as he requested, and two men picked up Sheffield andmoved him from her sight. Everyone worked quickly, and soonthe plaza was nearly deserted. "I hope I can find my patients inthis rabbit warren," Jesse murmured to her. He looked over at theman who was sitting now on the fountain's rim. "Alcalde?"

He shook his head, and looked at Elinore. "Please tell him ouralcalde is dead." His expression hardened. "We were visited bythe British earlier."

Elinore stared at him. "Surely you mean the French."

"I do not, senora." He shrugged, but there was no lessening of thebitterness in his eyes. "I think our priest is with the alcalde'sfamily."

"I ... I don't understand," she began.

"He can explain it to you. He speaks a little English, 1 think."

That will be welcome, she thought. Even though her breath camein little frosty puffs, her back was wet with perspiration from theexertion of speaking even her imperfect Spanish. She prepared tocompose another sentence to ask for a blanket for Jesse and somefood, when she saw Dan hurrying toward them. She stood upfrom her own perch on the fountain's rim. "Dan, thank goodness!Now you can help me with Jesse."

Dan didn't even look at her. He knelt in front of her husband,touching his face to make sure he was awake. "Sir, we have aproblem."

She wasn't even sure he was awake, but Jesse managed a faintchuckle. "Dan, we have enough problems right now."

"Here's another," the steward insisted. "The woman's daughterhas been in labor over twenty-one hours—that's veinte y un, isn'tit, Elinore?—and I can't figure out where the baby is."

"Oops," Jesse said, and Elinore wondered only briefly at hismental state. "Which means that little nino must be lyingcrosswise. They do that, Dan, but only at highly inopportunetimes, I think. A dry presentation?"

Dan nodded. "I think the mother said it had been ten hours sincethe water broke."

"Worse and worse." It pained her to watch how slowly he turnedhis head in her direction. "Elinore, help me to my feet. Dan, Itrust you can find this place again."

"Of course, sir."

Elinore looked at them both in disbelief. "Jesse! You can hardlyturn your head!"

She might as well have said nothing, for all the attention eitherman paid her. She looked at Harper, and he shrugged. She knewshe was defeated. After a glance from Dan, Harper slung the bagof medicines on his shoulder and eased his other arm around thesurgeon. A few shaky steps, a pause, and a few more steps sawthem across the plaza. By the time they reached the narrowstreet, Jesse walked with minimal assistance.

Elinore hurried to catch up with them, her fear lessening as aSpaniard from the plaza accompanied her, carrying a lamp highnow. They walked silently until they reached a house that wasbetter lit than those on either side. "Your husband is a stubbornman, no?" he said.

"He is, indeed," she replied, wondering why she had never really

noticed that about Jesse Randall before. Do men change whenthey become husbands? she asked herself. Has he always beenthis way? Why didn't I notice?

The door opened. She went inside, grateful for the warmth. Theman who had escorted her remained in the doorway. He bowedto her. Every man a king, her father had once said. "Thank you,"she said.

"Por nada," he replied, and bowed again. "I will remain outside,senora, if you have need of me." He smiled at her then. "I canlook for the priest later, if you wish. He can tell you what adifficult day this has been in our little village, for you and for us."

A woman screamed then, the sound a combination of pain andexhaustion that went to Elinore's heart. And there will be myhusband, she thought. "I must help now," she told the man, andheld out her hand. "Thank you."

She took a deep breath and followed the sound down the hall. Aquick glance around her suggested a house belonging to people ofmeans. She hurried up the low steps to the second floor, whereHarper stood outside a closed door, his face ashen, his armswrapped around himself. She touched his arm. "Oh, miss, howdoes he do it?"

"I do not know, Private." She took another deep breath andentered the room.

Her husband stood just barely upright, leaning against themattress. As she watched, he leaned forward until his ear restedagainst the distended belly of a young woman as ghostly white asHarper. She started to whimper, but Jesse grasped her hand at thewrist and began to gently massage her forearm. In anothermoment she was silent.

He leaned away when he finished, and Dan guided him to thechair by the bed. He did not release the woman's hand. Elinore

knew she should have gone to his side so she could translate, butshe was transfixed in the doorway by the scene in front of her. Ihave watched this man for years, and it is as though I have neverseen him before, she marveled to herself.

She stood in the doorway and watched suffering of the rawestkind of a woman trying to give birth to a baby that could not beborn, and her husband held her arm and calmed her with theforce of his presence. She had never seen anything like it.

She had to let him know she was there. "Jesse," she said. "Whatcan I do?" She knew she wanted to run away from the struggleahead; she also knew she would rather die than disappoint thishusband of almost two days.

He looked around at the sound of her voice, quiet as it was, andsmiled at her. Oh, please don't look at me with relief, she thoughtin terror. Don't look as though you expect me to be of any earthlyuse.

"Thank God you're here, Elinore," he said, and there was nodenying the relief in his voice. "Dan, you and Harper find ourhospital patients and tend to them. We will join you as soon aswe can."

She expected some argument from Dan, but he offered none. Aglance at his stricken face told her that he had no stomach forwhat lay ahead. She heard the door close behind him, and in thesilence, footsteps on the stairs.

The woman laboring on the bed began to writhe then, and tenseherself, then try to dig her bare heels into the mattress as thecontractions overwhelmed her. Elinore noticed the woman fromthe plaza, wrapping her arms around what must be her daughter,breathing along with her. The woman's cries were fainter now.

"She's so tired," Jesse said.

And what about you? Elinore wanted to shout. Have you not

been through enough this evening? A man we both love is dead,and here you are, perhaps caring for the daughter of hismurderer, for all we know? Someone had bound up the lacerationon his temple, probably Dan, and she winced to see how swollenit was.

When the contraction eased and the exhausted woman laypanting, Elinore tentatively reached out and rested her hand onthe woman's arm. Jesse removed his hand and leaned back in thechair, his eyes closed. "Can you do anything for her?" she asked.

"I think so." He opened his eyes and leaned carefully forward,trying not to move his head. "Will you tell Sonia's mother—this isSonia Ramos—that I am going to try to turn the baby?" Helooked at her and Elinore saw the fight in his eyes, even thoughone of them was quite black now from the blow. "That baby isstill breathing, and, by God, we're going to give it a chance."

She leaned close to him. "Can they both live?"

"I don't hold out much hope for that, but I would say we areoverdue for some good luck, wouldn't you?"

"I have never heard you refer to medicine as luck," she said.

"Then I have been a magnificent actor," he replied. "I wonderthat Kemble and Keane have not beaten a path to my surgerybefore now. Translate for me, Elinore, while I see if I can getwater to wash off some of this mud. Do you think there mighteven be a clean shirt in all of Santos?"

It was then that Elinore noticed others in the room, servants,apparently, who stood by a large basin with steam rising from it."I will help you first," she said, and got to her feet. Sheunbuttoned his muddy, bloodstained shirt, lamented itsdestruction briefly, considering what else he had to wear, andtossed it aside. She spoke to the servants, washed her husband'supper body. The cloths they handed her were hot, but from his

sigh, she knew he needed them. She took great care around hisface, pausing while Sonia suffered through another rackingcontraction.

"Look at me, Jesse," she ordered when Sonia was silent again,her eyes huge in her white face. He did as she said, and shewiped his face clean.

When she finished, one of the servants produced a shirt that wastoo long in the sleeves, but clean. Elinore rolled back the sleeves."There," she said.

"Wash yourself now."

"Me?" she asked, startled.

"Yes. Elinore, I hate to tell you this, but if my hand and forearmwon't fit, you'll have to do this."

I can't, she wanted to say, even as she rolled up her sleeves wellpast her elbows and plunged her arms into the same warm water.She had a faraway memory of her mother assuring her that shewould meet a man one day who would marry her despite her lackof dowry, and hers would be a life of ease. Poor Mama, shethought as she dried her arms and tried to keep her mind free ofwhat lay ahead. Did I ever believe her?

She glanced at the surgeon, hoping he would not notice hercovert look, because she knew she would feel shy. I wish therewas someone I could ask: does any woman ever really know herhusband? I thought he was just a mild-mannered man who wouldsee me safely to the Portuguese border, she told herself. I thinknow that he is rather indomitable. Who would have thought it?

Willing herself to be calm, she mentally lined up all the words inSpanish that she knew, and tried to explain to Sonia and hermother what would happen. She resorted finally to pantomime,and would have cringed at the look that came into their eyes,except that Jesse was watching, and it was not in her to

disappoint him.

Under his direction, she and Sonia's mother tugged her downclose to the end of the bed. Jesse indicated that the servants addmore wood to the brazier. He sat in silence for a moment on astool at the end of the bed, his eyes closed and his hand to histemple. She thought he was praying. He opened his eyes finallyand looked sideways at her.

"Moments like this, my dear, I wish I had gone into theimport-export business, like my wee brother Bob." She laughed—she couldn't help herself—and Sonia's mother gave her a hardstare.

He sat out another of Sonia's useless contractions, then rose upenough to pull back the woman's nightgown, pull down her legsuntil they dangled off the end of the bed, and directed theservants to hold her shoulders. "Roll my sleeve up again," hecommanded Elinore. "Here I go."

She closed her eyes and prayed that he would be successful, notso much that her heart ached for Sonia, so exhausted and soterrified, but that she, Elinore Randall, would not have to pushher hand inside the mystery of a woman's body and try to sort outthe confusion within. Jesse probably knows more about womenthan I ever will, she thought, and I am a woman. Teeth clenched,she watched as her husband, his own face set in a grim mask,gently insinuated his hand inside the woman on the bed.

His face was turned toward her, and she had a good look at hisexpression, which went from expressionless to extremelyinterested. It was a look she recognized, the look he wore whenexamining intriguing cases. "What have you found?" shewhispered.

"One good thing. The baby's lying transverse, yes, but it isfacedown. I wouldn't give Sonia a chance if it were faceup. Iknow there is a mouth somewhere. Yes!"

She almost winced to think that he had hooked a finger in thebaby's mouth, but knew he had when he smiled. "He's gummingme, lass," he told her. "Hang onto Sonia right there, and pushwith the heel of your hand when I tell you, please."

She joined the girl's mother and the servant, and gripped Soniaaround the middle. Sonia was screaming helplessly now, a womanstaring at death, but too tired to resist its blandishments. She wentlimp. "Find her pulse, Elinore," he said urgently.

She reached for Sonia's neck, and there it was. She nodded.

"Push now and rotate your hand as I pull down," he ordered.

She did as he said and felt the baby move. "Keep at it. Ah, there."

He pulled out his arm, and she was by him at once with a towel towipe off the blood and fluid. Sonia began to moan again. Hepatted her leg and pantomimed that the mother and servantshould pull her up slightly from the end of the bed. When theydid, he raised the woman's knees, took a towel from Elinore, andslid it under Sonia's hips.

"Now we wait," he said, "but I think not for long." He leanedforward suddenly and rested his forehead on Sonia's upraisedknee, his eyes closed. He stayed that way until Sonia tensed foranother contraction, and grunted in surprise when she realizedthat something was actually happening this time.

Sonia's daughter was born a few minutes later, angry at theindignities heaped upon her in a cruel world, and gulping greatbreaths. A huge bruise had already formed in the corner of hermouth, but her slimy legs jerked and her hands waved about, as ifconducting some grand chorus to survival and tenacity.

"Welcome to Santos," Jesse said as he held up the wriggling lumpin both hands. "I'm sorry I called you a he." As the baby squalledeven louder than Sonia's mother was crying, Jesse tucked heragainst his chest and with his little finger gave her mouth a

professional swab. He laughed out loud when she made water onhim. "Take that, you surgeon, eh? Let me separate you from thetie that binds and give you to your mother without delay. Elinore?Do I see a blanket by that brazier?"

She couldn't believe him. He was so animated, so alive with thepleasure of holding that hard-fought-for infant, that he seemed tobe unaware of his own pain. "I'll be damned," she said softly. "Iwill never understand the medical profession."

He couldn't possibly have heard her over the wails of the child,the prayers of the new grandmother, or the exhausted tears of themother, but he looked her way quickly, and winked at her withhis good eye. After he cut the cord, he gave Sonia a little tug andthen a push that expelled the afterbirth onto the towel under her.

Her heart full, Elinore held out a blanket, wrapped it quicklyaround the child. Sonia's daughter was quiet now, looking aroundand blinking as though she couldn't believe the muddle she hadlanded herself in. Welcome to war and Spain, Elinore thoughtand felt the tears behind her own eyes. You've been dragged hereby a rather tenacious man.

As soon as he handed her the baby, Jesse moved Sonia's foot alittle and rested his head on the mattress. "Just a little rest, that'sall," he murmured. Before Elinore walked around the bed torelinquish the baby, she leaned forward and kissed Jesse'sforehead. "My goodness" was all she could think of to say.

She held the baby tight to her and looked down at her husband.He was breathing deeply and evenly; she had never seen anyonefall asleep as fast as that. She bent forward again to kiss him, buthesitated, her lips right next to his cheek. I'd hate to wakesomeone who deserves a rest, she thought and raised herself up.

To her complete gratification, he opened the only eye available tohim. "Don't waste them, Elinore," he said. "Some Scot you willbe."

Without a word she kissed him again, then carried the baby toSonia, who tried to hold out her arms, but was too spent to domore than open her hands and gesture. Carefully, Elinore placedthe baby close to Sonia's side and draped her arm around theinfant. She watched in deep appreciation as Sonia's armtightened.

Someone tugged at her skirt. She looked back, a smile on herface, to see Jesse's wonderfully dexterous fingers wrappedaround the fabric of her dress. She smiled and watched him sleep,resting her hand on his head.

Chapter EightWhen he woke a few minutes later, he wouldn't leave the room.He did allow Elinore to lead him over to a low bench at the wall,where he leaned back and closed his eyes. "I'm going to stay right

here and watch for a while," he told her before he bowed hishead forward and slept. She sat beside him and pulled his head

onto her shoulder. "I'll watch for you," she whispered.

She watched—hard put to keep her own eyes open—and listenedto the low murmurs of the women around the bed as they tendedto the new mother in timeless fashion. Sonia slept, too, even asone of the older women helped the infant find her mother'sbreast. Sonia's eyes flickered open as her child tugged at her, thenclosed again with a sigh of contentment. How resilient womenare, Elinore thought with admiration. Sonia may fool my husbandby surviving, but I am not so sure she will surprise me.

She looked at her husband, wishing he could sleep for hours andhours, but knowing that any sound of distress from Sonia or hersmall daughter would bring him wide awake. Maybe they will

both live, she thought. Perhaps our luck has turned. That only ledto the view in her mind of the Chief lying facedown in the plaza,dead for no good reason.

She was starting to breathe evenly again when she noticed thepriest standing in the doorway. He was so quiet, and the room sodim that she wondered briefly if he was real or the imagination ofher tired brain. But no, Harper stood behind him, his eyes onJesse with such a proprietary look that Elinore knew her husbandhad a bodyguard now, whether he wanted one or not.

She nodded toward the priest, so he would know she was awake.He came into the room then, and made the sign of the cross overmother and baby, who both slept. He listened to Sonia's mother,who spoke too rapidly for Elinore to follow and then gestured inJesse's direction. Just let him sleep, please, she thought. Surelywhatever more bad news you have can wait until morning.

No luck. The priest sat down beside her, but he kept his voicelow. To her relief, he spoke in English. "Your husband hasworked a miracle here, no?"

"Yes, I rather think he has, too," she replied softly. If I saynothing else, perhaps he will go away, Elinore thought, even asshe remembered the determination in her husband's face as hestruggled to save the mother and the baby, and knew withoutquestion what he would expect of her. "Do you need him now?"

"Yes. Will you wake him? The alcalde's family . . ." his voicetrailed off. "It is a difficult thing."

"Well, then." She gently touched her husband's face. "Captain,there is a priest here who says you are needed."

They had not far to go, luckily, because he was not steady on hisfeet, whether from exhaustion or pain, she could not tell. Shewalked beside him, ready to put out her hand, but aware ofHarper hovering even closer, ready, she knew, to pick him up and

carry him if he should falter. I am amazed, she thought,wondering how only yesterday she had thought the private amalingerer and a cheat, hopeless of remedy. Well, he is still athief, she reminded herself, thinking of the money he filched fromthe quartermaster. I wish you had stolen more, she thought. Wecould probably use it.

The alcalde's house looked like the others in the village, with anearly blank wall coming right down to the street, and a doormassive but plain. A climbing plant, long through its growingseason and limp now in autumn's rain, still clung to the plasterand brick, looking as bedraggled as she felt. The door openedbefore the priest knocked, and Elinore stepped back involuntarilyat the wailing that spilled out into the dark street.

"The alcalde was killed by a British soldier this afternoon," hetold her, and she could tell he was striving to keep his voiceneutral. "He accused him of holding back the village's food fromthe commissary requisition and shot him when he denied it."

"British?" She wished she could block out the anguish thatseemed to spread across the narrow street like a plague of Egypt.

"Yes, senora, our allies." The priest turned to help her husbandcross the threshold, but his words were for her. "Now can youunderstand your reception?"

I never can understand why good men die, she thought, butnodded anyway, because she knew the priest expected it.

"I can do nothing for the alcalde, then?" Jesse asked.

"Not unless you can raise the dead," said the priest.

"Then why ..."

"This way, senor."

With Elinore on one side of her husband and Harper on the other,they followed the priest past the room where she could see a man

laid out on a table and surrounded by wailing women. The priestpaused outside a closed door and knocked. The door opened onmore tears to Elinor's dismay. She looked at her husband. Hisface was calm. I would be such a disappointment to you if youonly knew what a coward I am, she thought.

The priest indicated that Harper wait in the hall. She would gladlyhave hung back, too, except he ushered her forward along withher husband.

"The British have brought such shame to our village," the priestwhispered. "This is the alcalde's daughter. After the officer shotour alcalde, he committed a terrible act upon her."

"My God!" Jesse exclaimed. "What was the matter with thatman?"

"Perhaps you can tell us," the priest replied, and Elinore knewthat the bitterness in his voice was not a trick of her hearing."Perhaps she will talk to you, although I doubt it. I do think youshould try to tend to her wounds."

A girl who looked scarcely fifteen huddled on the bed, thengasped and tried to burrow under the bedcovers as Jesse camecloser. Elinore hurried to her side. "Please, my dear, my husbandis a surgeon," she said in Spanish. "Will you let him help you?"

The girl shook her head vigorously, her hands trembling and herteeth practically clacking in her mouth. Her face was swollen andbruised, as though someone had struck her. She looked at thewoman in black standing beside the bed, who also shook herhead. The woman came closer, and in a voice low with anger,began speaking so fast that Elinore could only look to the priestfor help.

"She says that you British have done enough and you should allbe killed by the French."

Jesse nodded. "You can assure her, Father, that she will probably

have her wish fulfilled before too many more days." He lookedaround, and gestured for Elinore to bring him a stool, which sheplaced beside the bed, despite a low-voiced objection from theolder woman. With a sigh, he sat down. "Tell her that I am tootired to move because I have just delivered Sonia Ramos' baby.Sit down there on the bed, Elinore. Father, tell this child that ifshe wants to tell my wife what happened, she will listen. I amgoing to close my eyes. I hope she does not think me rude, but Ihave had my own share of troubles in Santos."

The priest spoke, and the heavy weight in the room seemed tolift. The girl lay curled on her side in a tight ball, her eyes dull andpuffy from crying. Elinore kept her hands tight in her lap andthen she asked herself, what would I want someone to do for me?Careful not to startle the girl, she went to the basin near the door.She dipped in a cloth hanging by the basin, wrung it out, andreturned to the girl. Ignoring the woman in black who glared ather, she sat by the girl and wiped her face. Elinore felt uselessand foolish at the same time, but she gently dabbed the clothunder her eyes and across her forehead, and then even moregently by the bruise near her mouth.

"There now, my dear," she murmured in English. "I always feelbetter when someone does that for me. Tea would help, but I donot have any. Here, let me wipe under your neck. It's so easy toperspire there, especially when your hair is long." She touchedthe girl's hair, then smoothed it back from her face. "You havesuch beautiful hair," she said in Spanish.

To her surprise, the girl raised her chin slightly, then straightenedout her legs a little. Encouraged, Elinore began to rub her back,moving closer until she knew the girl must feel the warmth fromher own body. She stopped and moved to pull the blanket higheron her shoulder, wanting nothing more than to crawl in beside herand sleep a week or more. "Oh, my dear, please tell me whathappened."

Elinore looked at the priest when the girl began to speak. As thewords gushed out, the priest waited—-his face a study in painand humiliation-—then translated. "She thought it would be likealways, when you British retreat, always taking more food andleaving chits that are so hard to redeem." He listened intently. "Aregiment had come through earlier, and there was little more tospare. Her father explained that quite carefully, then turned to gointo his store. The tall man shot him in the back."

"My God," Jesse said. He sat up quickly, winced, then leanedagainst Elinore. The girl began to cry again. Elinore wiped herface.

"The same man pushed her into the store, struck her when shestruggled, threw her down on the floor and raped her," the priestcontinued, his voice toneless now, shocked, as though Spain hadnot been at war for ten years and such atrocities only happenedover the next mountain, or beyond the river.

"I'm so sorry," Elinore murmured. She took hold of the girl'shand. "Maybe you will feel a little better, now that you have toldme."

"There is one thing more," the girl whispered.

The priest frowned. "What else can there be, my dear?" he asked,his voice gentle.

Her breath coming in gasps, the girl reached up the sleeve of herdress and pulled out a small sheet of paper before she burst intotears again.

"Oh, my dear, please! It is a commissary chit," Elinore said as sheglanced at the paper. "I... I don't understand." She handed it toJesse, who took it, and struggled to sit up again in the face of thegirl's increasing distress.

The girl grasped the front of Elinore's dress, her eyes frightful."He told me it was a chit for my services," she said in Spanish. "I

could redeem it for only one peso because I wasn't very good. Hestuffed it in my mouth. Ay de mi!"

Elinore felt her face drain of all color. "Only a monster would dosuch a thing," she replied, when she could speak. She looked atthe commissary requisition in Jesse's hand. "Surely he did not signhis name?"

He stared at the paper in his lap as though he could not believe it,then dropped it on the floor. "Major Bones," he said when hecould speak. "Major Bones."

While the girl sobbed in Elinore's arms now, the priest told thepart of the story he knew. "When we found her and her father,she told us that the man who . . . who . . . did this awful deed saidthat stragglers were following behind him, and that we shouldshoot them on sight." He could not look at Elinore. "We thoughthe meant you." He threw up his hands. "What did you do to himto make him so angry?"

I am the cause of this misery, Elinore thought in horror. As herstomach plummeted into her shoes, she looked at Jesse and sawher expression mirrored in his. And you know I am, don't you?There could be no other conclusion, not with such a look on hisface. I doubt a man will ever repent of marriage as fast as youwill, she told herself. And the devil of it is—considering yourkind nature—I hardly blame you.

"We did have a disagreement," Jesse said, his voice shocked andhollow to her ears. "We thought he had already taken out hisrevenge on us. Didn't we, Elinore?"

She cringed inside at his carefully chosen words, and nodded.Looking at him was out of the question. She clung to the girl, whowas sobbing in deeper earnest now. If I cry, too, Elinore thought,no one will know. The tears slid down her own face. "Pobrecita,pobrecita," she murmured, hardly sure whether she crooned tothe dead man's daughter, or to her own bruised spirit.

Finally, the girl lay limp and exhausted in Elinore's arms, andmade no demure when Elinore gently laid her back down andcovered her with the blanket. She drew into a ball again, but didnot open her eyes.

"I doubt she will be inclined to let me examine her," Jesse said.

"Perhaps not tonight," she said timidly, not sure what to say inthe face of her enormous guilt.

"Even if she did, I do not know what I could do for her," hereplied, his voice low, but intense. "Should I tell her that maybein nine months she might have a fond remembrance of MajorBones, eh? Or that every time a man looks at her just a momenttoo long, she will get chills and a sick feeling?"

"Oh, please, don't!" Elinore begged.

He was silent for a long moment. "Welcome to the war, Elinore.This is a side of it I would prefer to deny," he said at last. "Helpme up, please. I'm sorry to be a burden to you, but I doubt I canstand by myself."

You are not half the burden to me that I must be to you, she toldherself. She helped him to his feet, held him there until henodded, then walked with him to the door. In the hall, Harperleaped up from the bench where he was dozing and took hold ofJesse.

"Do you know where Dan and our patients are?" he asked.

"In the church with . . . with Major Sheffield."

"Take me there."

Elinore winced. Not us, but me, was all she heard. She stoodwhere she was as the two men left the house. "Where do I go?"she said aloud to the painting of Christ looking sorrowfully at herand pointing to his bleeding heart. She looked away.

There was nothing for her to do but follow. She stood a momentby the open door that led into the room where the women werekeening over the body of the alcalde. One of the women noticedher, got up quickly, and closed the door in her face.

"There is no love for the British in this house. Come with me."

She looked around to see the priest by the door that opened tothe outside. "I told them I would wait for you," he said.

I doubt they missed me, she thought. "Thank you."

She walked with him in silence back to the plaza, feeling her ownweariness right down to her muddy shoes. Her dress andpetticoats had dried, but now they were stiff with mud. Shelooked down at the bloodstains on her dress. Poor Chief, shethought.

The church was not large; nothing about Santos indicated muchwealth. As they walked inside and she waited for the priest to diphis fingers in the holy water, she thought of the cathedral inSalamanca, and earlier the one in Madrid that she and her motherhad visited after the battles, ornate affairs bearing the weight ofcenturies of gold and silver from the Indies, with massive Stationsof the Cross. Here the Stations were merely numbered on thewalls, the few statues modest.

"We are not a town with any distinction," he said, interpretingher gaze correctly. He laughed softly. "Not a single conquistadorever returned to Santos with a huge purse and a guiltyconscience." His face grew serious again. He touched her arm,pointed down the side aisle, and led her to a much smaller chapelniched in the wall.

She stopped in the doorway, then willed herself to enter. Twobodies lay on rude tables, nearly filling the small space. ChiefSurgeon David Sheffield's face was clean, and his hands foldedcarefully together. His eyes were closed, but by some quirk of

nature or biology, his brows still seemed arched in surprise at theunexpectedness of his destruction. The hole in his foreheadwhere the ball had entered looked like a third eye. She wascompelled to stare at it, and then at the white cloth behind hishead where blood was already turning to rust. "Such a smallhole," she murmured. "Ay de mi."

A young priest stood against the wall. The sleeves of his cassockwere still rolled up, and he held a cloth. "Thank you for caring forhim," she said in Spanish.

He nodded and came closer to stand beside the body on the otherside of the table. He touched Sheffield's fingers with the cloth."He has such fine hands, senora."

She looked down at the elegant length of his fingers, so still now,and thought of all care he had administered in the eight years shehad known him. "He was a very good surgeon," she said, andhesitated only a moment before she touched Sheffield's hands,cold as marble now. As she did so, she noticed the little ring shewore, the one he had given Jesse to put on her finger in the deadtent. Without a qualm she removed it and placed it on Sheffield'slittle finger. She could only slide it past the first knuckle, but sheknew that nothing would jostle it from his hand now, not wherehe was going. "Better you should have it back," she told him,then leaned close to kiss his cheek.

I cannot linger here, she thought, then turned her attention to theother table where Private Jenks lay. She almost dreaded to lookat his expression, but as she gazed at him in the half light, she felther heart stop its racing. "You're so peaceful now," she said outloud in English. "What a relief you must have now to be free ofthat dreadful breathing bellows. Did we do you more harm thangood?"

"I wonder that, too."

She closed her eyes in shame. "Oh, Captain, I didn't mean it like

that," she said without even turning around, cursing herself forcompounding her felony, and wishing he made more noise whencoming into a room.

"No, Elinore, that's not it. Oh, for heaven's sake look at me!"

She turned around quickly, surprised at his impatience. It was nota quality she knew in him. "Sir, I ..."

He waved his hand to stop her. "Never mind. It's just that you'vebecome afflicted with the chief malady among the staff atNumber Eight." He leaned against the trestle that held the chiefsurgeon, his hand resting familiarly on his mentor's arm. "I wastrained in Milan to think and think again." He ran his hand lightlyover Sheffield's arm, as if trying to massage him into life. "My maestro told me, 'Signore, if you do not trust your treatment, andkeep trusting it, you might as well wash windows.' So I say toyou, my dear, welcome to the club."

She let out her breath in a small sigh, relieved that at least he didnot accuse her. She did not want to look at Jenks again, so shekept her eyes on Jesse as he gave the chief surgeon a final patand came closer to her in the small space of the chapel. Helooked toward the small altar. "I confess to you—and isn't this agood place?—that I wish I could do an autopsy on Jenks. I'd givea lot to look at his lungs." He turned his head toward her, and shecould see all the effort that took. "Now what do you think ofme?"

Don't blunder here, Elinore, she thought. You're in enoughtrouble. "I would call you a surgeon," she replied simply. "And . .. and I think Sonia Ramos would, too."

She could tell by the flicker in his eyes that he didn't expect thatanswer. He was a moment in replying. "Thank you for remindingme of her. I needed that right now."

Shy again, she was spared the embarrassment of a reply when

Harper entered the chapel. "Ready, sir?" he asked. Jesse nodded.

"The others?" Elinore asked.

"They are well, considering. The only one suffering any pain isDan O'Leary," Jess replied. "He thinks he failed me with SoniaRamos. I told him, of course he did not, and that it was the verydevil of a presentation, but I suppose he must agonize for a whileover it." He looked at the young priest, who still stood in silence."Our friend here also has a good touch. We will leave ourpatients with him and Dan tonight." He smiled at Harper. "And,of course, Private Wilkie, who has from somewhere alreadyprocured an entire ham. What a thieving rascal he is."

She couldn't help but smile, even in that place of theforever-silent men.

"Well, never mind. He may actually prove useful. The olderpriest—I believe he is called Father Esteban—tells us we havebeen directed to return to the Ramos house. Come, Elinore, startme in motion."

She touched his arm, and he began to move. She got no fartherthan Sheffield's body, where she paused again. "I loved him," shesaid.

"You were loved, too," he replied. "He told me once— I think itwas after Talavera, when we were groggy from amputating—thatyou were the daughter he wished he and Millie had found thetime to conceive." He went to the body himself, and tugged out agold chain around Sheffield's neck. "Look here. He did not giveyou back all your beads. We'll leave it with him."

She eyed the one blue bead on the chain, and burst into tearsagain. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, which felt gritty acrossher face, and could think of nothing to say.

With Harper grasping Jesse's arm, they left the small chapel, theirfootsteps echoing in the empty space of the larger chapel. Jesse

made them stop in the middle, where he made the sign of thecross as he faced the altar. Elinore had never seen him do thatbefore. He must have known she was staring at him, because hemanaged a smile in her direction. "Elinore, I am a terribleCatholic. I admit it, but you'll agree that we're alive because ofsomeone's grace."

Father Esteban led them back to the Ramos house. "You will stayhere tonight," he told them. "Tomorrow we will bury the men,and then you will have to leave. I do not know where the Frenchare, but someone from this village will be watching to warn us."

The servants had prepared a pallet in a small room off the kitchenfor Harper, but he insisted on placing it in the hall at the top ofthe stairs. Jesse tried to object, but Harper wouldn't hear of it. "Iam a soldier, Captain," he replied.

"That will come as a surprise to your commanding officer, oncewe reach Portugal," Jesse said, but offered no more objections.He opened the door to Sonia's room and stood there a moment.Elinore joined him, letting out a small sigh to see Sonia asleepwith her hand under her cheek. Her baby slept in a cradle besidethe bed.

"Beautiful," Jesse said, and there was no mistaking the pride inhis voice. "Thank God there was some redemption in this sorryday. Is there a patron saint for idiots?"

"Do you think it is the same one for army surgeons?" she joked,and was rewarded with a lopsided smile and a little jab in her ribs.

Father Esteban motioned them toward another doorway. "Hereyou are. Senora Ramos' mother is already asleep, but she told meto make sure you came back here. I will be here early. We mustbury your dead as soon as possible." He put his fingers to his lipsand started for the stairs.

Elinore stopped him, coming close. "Father, perhaps this is a

delicate question, but is there a father for Sonia's baby?"

He smiled at her. "Of course! There have not been too manyimmaculate conceptions in Spain in recent years."

Jesse laughed out loud. "Father, I thought I was the only heretichere!"

"War has made a heretic of me," the priest said simply. He madea small sign of the cross on Jesse's forehead. "Go to sleep. In themorning we will conduct our sad business, and I have a favor toask you. No. No. The asking can wait. You need to sleep now.Take him, senora." He turned to go, then looked back when hewas at the stairs. "Senora, you are to leave your dress outside thedoor tonight. The maid will clean it."

"I will be so grateful," Elinore said. "But you have not answeredmy question. Where is the baby's father?"

"He rides with the guerillas." Father Esteban shrugged. "Beyondthat, I cannot say. Good night to you both."

She had no time to be shy over being alone with her husband, oreven time to inventory her vast storehouse of guilt over the deathof the alcalde and the ruin of his daughter. Jesse had alreadyremoved his shoes. Eyes closed, he unbuttoned his shirt andshucked it onto the floor. He tried to unbutton his trousers, andfinally just stood by the bed, his arms at his sides, defeated byexhaustion. Elinore unbuttoned his trousers and pulled themdown. He rested his hand on her shoulder while he stepped out ofhis pants.

More amused than shy now, Elinore gave him a little push andwatched him sag onto the bed, wearing his smallclothes. Thecoverlets had been turned down. There was only one pillow, butit was wide, plump and inviting. With a sigh he rested his head onthe pillow and tried to swing his legs onto the mattress. When hehad no success, Elinore obliged him. He was asleep before she

raised the blanket to cover him.

Elinore removed her apron, dress and petticoats and set themoutside the door. For good measure, she put her muddy shoesoutside, too. Turn them all into beautiful clothes, she thought ... Iwould not mind that. She had no brush, so she pulled out her fewremaining pins and ran her fingers through her hair, all the whilelooking around the room and wondering where she could sleep.The room was small, with nothing but a bed, a chair, a rug, and atiny altar in one corner. The fire had glowed itself down toembers now, and the cedar fragrance was an unbelievablecomfort to her tired brain.

She was starting to shiver, standing there in her shimmy. Therewas nowhere to sleep but the bed. After a long moment, shecrawled under the covers with him, giving him a timid push tomove him closer to the other side, and then a firm one when heseemed not to respond. She lay as still as she could, but her feetwere cold, and the mattress an. old one. She felt herself slidingtoward her husband, whose only reaction was to haul her in tightagainst him and keep her there with one arm.

He was warm, but not feverish, she decided. Elinore relaxed andthen cautiously moved her cold feet against his legs. He utteredsome objection in a language she didn't recognize, but hiscomplaint didn't cause him to pull away. His arm draped over herseemed heavy at first, and unnatural, and then warm and oddlycomforting. As she sank deeper into the mattress, Elinore foundherself faced with a new emotion, one she had not expected tofeel in this tangled, terrible day. I am tired and I must be wrong,she thought as her eyes closed. We are in a dreadful situation.How is it that I feel safe?

Jesse woke hours later, not because of any pain of his own, butbecause of some instinct he had acquired beginning with hisuniversity days in Milan. Moonlight poured in the window.Elinore lay close to him, with her hair spread across the pillow

they shared. She had curled herself into solid sleep, conformingher body to his, and resting the bottoms of her feet against hisshins. He smiled, thinking of worse fates for himself in the yearsahead than to be her personal warming pan.

His arm rested across her side, his elbow comfortable betweenthat juncture of her waist and hip. He raised up slightly andsmiled again. Her one hand that he could see was relaxed insleep, the fingers curling over the thumb like a baby's hand. Itwas light enough in the room to see the veins in her wrist. Headmired the lovely swell of her breasts. Oh, Hippocrates, wasever anatomy so well represented? he asked himself. I knowbetter than most men that she is a conglomerate of skin, blood,tissue, bones, muscles and nerves, but only look how nicelyarranged.

He got up slowly, hoping not to disturb her, and trying to keep hishead as level as possible. To his relief, she did not waken, butflopped onto her other side. Her shimmy rode up to her hips, andhe enjoyed the view. Cautiously, he touched his temple. Theswelling had gone down a little. He felt the laceration, crustedover now. Hippocrates, I am disinclined to suture myself. PerhapsDaniel can do the honors in the morning, or perhaps I can get bywith a well-placed plaster. Very well, sir; call me a coward.

He groped under the bed for the crock and relieved himself asquietly as he could. In the silent room it sounded to him likeAngel Falls in Venezuela, but Elinore did not stir. He found histrousers then and pulled them on. He considered the shirt, but didnot think Sonia Ramos would object to his smallclothes.

He nearly stumbled over Harper in the hall. The private sat up,more alert than Jess would have thought possible in a man sounfamiliar with the art of warfare, no matter how long hisparticular enlistment. "Go back to sleep, Private. I am going tocheck on Senora Ramos."

The door was open slightly, and he peered inside. Sonia still layon her side, but the baby was curled close to her now, nursingwith steady pulls. A man sat on the stool close to her bed, onehand resting on the baby's head and the other on Sonia's head. Helooked around, then stood up quickly. Sonia opened her eyes andspoke to him. Jess recognized the word for surgeon, and the mansat down again.

He wanted to ask him how he got past Harper, then noticed theopen window. He walked to the window and looked down. Ahorse was tethered below, tied to a tree that must have served asSenor Ramos' route. Why is this, he wondered.

"We have all become careful," the man said, as if in answer to histhoughts.

Jess nodded. "Your English is so good."

Ramos shrugged. "If you English in your arrogance will not learnSpanish, what am I to do?"

There is much truth to that, Jesse thought, considering his brotherofficers who merely raised their voices and spoke slower, andthen wondered why nothing happened. "Indeed," he murmured."I believe you are right."

The man kissed Sonia, and rose, only to kneel before Jesse, takehis hand, and kiss it. "Thank you for the lives of my wife anddaughter."

As startled as he was, Jess had the good sense not to jerk back hishand. He helped Ramos to his feet, then put his hands on theother man's arms. "I am glad I was here to help," he said simply."If I have learned anything from war, it is to cherish life."

"I am in your debt."

Jesse shook his head. "I was only doing what I promisedHippocrates I would do."

"Then, he is a good man, too. Please tell him for me," Ramos saidfervently.

You hear that, Hippocrates? Another ringing endorsement. "Iwill." He turned to Sonia, who indicated that he put the babyback in her cradle. He took the infant from her with pleasure,enjoying the way babies newly birthed contracted into a smallspace, even though they had the world to stretch out in now. Heheld her close to his chest for a moment, feeling the steadyrhythm of her. "You were determined to live, weren't you, mydear?" he asked, and then put her on her side in the cradle. Hewanted to hold her longer, because he liked that utterly uniquefragrance of newborns, but it was late.

He turned back to Sonia. "Con su permiso," almost exhausted hisSpanish, but she understood his motions, and lay on her back. Hekneaded her abdomen gently, pleased that her womb was alreadycontracting. "Esta bien, senora," concluded his repertoire.

He started for the door, but Ramos stopped him. "I think youshould know that the rather elegant horse hitched to your wagonis the favorite mount of Souham himself," he said, naming thegeneral who had assumed command after Marmont was injuredat Salamanca. "Look in the saddlebags and then consider thewisdom of keeping the horse."

"How do you . . ." he began, then considered the nature ofRamos' current trade. "Perhaps I shall do that in the morning,senor. Go with God."

He left them together then, and went back to his own bed, tostand a while on the chilly tiles to admire Elinore, whose shimmyhad slipped entirely off her shoulder and exposed one lovelybreast. When he thought he could trust himself, he climbed inbeside her, and had the pleasure of putting his cold feet on herlegs. She mumbled something and settled against him in such away that he thought it best to turn his back to her.

He contemplated the variety of things he wanted to do with hiswife, and allowed himself the luxury of imagining a week or twowith time to devote to her alone. Time! He had never had any,not since the University of Milan declared him a surgeon and heplighted his troth with the Medical Corps. I wonder what it wouldbe like to have time, he asked himself. It is your fault,Hippocrates. I cannot fathom such a turn of events. He slept.

Chapter NineElinore woke to find Jesse gone. She lay still, disinclined to move,then inched over into the spot he had vacated. It was still warm.She wondered if she had dreamed of Jesse running his hand overher hip in the night, and felt her face go red at the thought of it,

especially considering that her shimmy had worked its way up toher waist. Well, what of it? she asked herself. I think we have

more serious matters to deal with today.

She inched over a little farther, and heard paper crinkle. Shemoved away and picked up a note he must have left on the bed."My dear, please join me in the chapel after you look in on SoniaRamos," she read to herself. "Her husband was here last night. Isuppose London ladies would swoon to see a real guerilla, butfrankly, he appeared to be in need of a bath." She laughed,pleased to know that he still possessed a sense of humor."Perhaps that is just me, though. You know I am the divisionofficer of hygiene."

Indeed you are, she thought as she got up. She pulled her shimmyover her head so she could wash as much of herself as she couldin the basin of water that he had obviously already used. Shelooked closer. At least there were no whiskers in the basin. I dohave my standards of hygiene, too, Captain, she thought.

The water, though used, was still warm. Someone hadthoughtfully provided a cup of soft soap, which smelled ofsummer herbs. She washed quickly, dried herself on a slightlydamp towel, pulled on her wrinkled shimmy again, and lookedoutside the door to see if a miracle had taken place.

She was not disappointed. Even though it was her same dress anduseful apron, they were clean. Her lace-up shoes were still sturdyand brown, but minus the mud. And blessing of blessings, somekind soul in the Ramos household had left her a comb. Shedressed and did her hair up in a tidy knot on her head, using a bitof string she salvaged from the medical satchel with plasters andbandages she carried.

Elinore opened the window to look out on a morning where thesun shone, even though the brisk air reminded her that it wasNovember. She sat on the sill for a moment, wondering how itwould feel to stay in one place from now until the end of her life.She tried to think of life in Scotland as the wife of a respectedsurgeon, living in a large house, then discarded the idea becauseshe could not imagine such a turn of events. All my life I havefollowed the drum, she reminded herself. I have lived in tents,and ru-ined buildings, argued with bill collectors for my motherand father, and spent very little time acquiring any useful femaleskills. I know I am not what is known as an accomplished lady. Iwould be a fool to think that anywhere I lived, people would notbe able to tell this at once. Can I converse on genteel topics atdinner parties? No. Do I have even an inkling what is fashionablein London or Paris right now? No. What about lofty intellectualskills? None I am aware of.

But there was a worse matter that goaded at her heart as shelooked across the Spanish landscape she knew so well. Perhapsthe captain truly does blame me for what happened to the alcaldeand his daughter, she thought as the horror of yesterday returnedfull measure. If I had agreed to Major Bones' demands, the

alcalde would still be alive, his daughter undisturbed, and thechief surgeon would not be lying so still in the church. Shewrapped her arms tighter about herself to ward off the chill of herthoughts, even as another part of her brain clamored forattention. Be fair, Elinore, she thought. If you had gone withMajor Bones, you would be ruined. The retreat would have gonesmoothly for Number Eight, but there likely would have been nostop at Santos. Sonia Ramos and her baby would have died inagony. Be fair and admit to yourself that you have no way ofknowing what good or evil can rise out of any situation.

She knew herself well enough to also admit that she was apractical woman. I am married to a good man who felt sorry forme, she reminded herself. It could be that he does blame me forwhat happened to the alcalde and his daughter. If I am to find out—and somehow my standing in his eyes matters to me—I mustask him. She leaned her head against the sill and thought of allthe times her mother complained to her about her father, but, toher knowledge, never confronted him about his many disservicesand marital misdemeanors. Sitting in the windowsill, and lookingout on the beautiful morning, Elinore wondered if things betweenthem would have been different had Audrey Mason ever spokenup.

"Surely I can do this," she said out loud as she went to the doorand pulled on her shoes. The reality is that I am married to thisman who has at least promised me his protection to thePortuguese border, she reasoned with herself. We will probablypart company there, because surely he knows already what a sadbargain I am. Even so, there is no need for him to think ill of me.I must ask him how he feels, even if I'm not precisely certain howto go about it.

She opened the door, but stood still, unwilling to move. She knewit was going to be another trying day, and she knew in her heartshe had suffered a lifetime of trying days and wanted no more.

She squared her shoulders, smoothed down her apron, and closedthe door quietly behind her.

Sonia Ramos was sitting up in her bed and taking a definiteinterest in her daughter, who was being washed by hergrandmama in a copper basin pulled close to the warmth of thebrazier. Elinore smiled at the baby's noisy protests and thevigorous way she pumped her legs and waved her arms about. Ifthe captain were less of a surgeon, neither of you would be herethis morning, she thought, and looked at Sonia, her heart full ofwonder at his skill. Off and on since she was a young girl, she hadseen him quietly at work in the marching hospital, never callingattention to himself, seldom talking to her. She knew the otherofficers teased him about his shyness. Captain, I don't supposeyou cut a great figure on the dance floor or astound the ladieswith your repartee, she thought, but you astound where itmatters, don't you?

She stood by the squalling baby as Sonia's mother took her fromthe bath and set her on a towel on the bed, enjoying the moment,at once so ordinary and yet miraculous. I will have to ask you,Captain, if you ever get tired of seeing this miracle. I don't think Icould.

"Do you have any children, senora?"

She looked around in surprise. "Me?" she asked in Spanish. "Oh,I have been married but two days." For no discernible reason, herface felt hot. She bent over the infant, lying on Sonia's bed now,and wrapped the towel more tightly around her.

The other women in the room—it seemed like hundreds, ratherthan just a maid or two—put their hands to their mouths in thatpolite Spanish way and laughed behind them. Elinore put herhands to her face in unconscious imitation and smiled back atthem in an agony of embarrassment that made her realize quiteforcefully that Jesse Randall was not the only shy one.

She busied herself drying the baby's hair, and then moved hercloser to Sonia, who held out a diaper. When the baby wasdressed, and nuzzling at her mama's breast, Elinore watched themfor a moment, her heart full. "I have to leave now," she saidfinally.

Sonia raised up, which caused the little one to flail her arms androot around. "We are forever in your husband's debt," she said,reaching for Elinore's hand.

Then whisk us safely to the Portuguese border, Elinore thought asshe leaned into Sonia's embrace. Teach me how to talk to thathusband, who must be regretting my acquisition on such shortnotice. "He was glad to help," she murmured.

"We will not forget," Sonia replied firmly. "How could we?"

She found her cloak—someone had brushed it cleaner—retrieved her medicine satchel, accepted the hunk of bread andcheese that the maid handed her, and left the Ramos home. Thepeople of Santos were going about their business in streets that nolonger looked sinister, now that morning had come. Some noddedand smiled to her, and she realized that news probably traveled asquickly in a village as in a typical regiment. I am such asimpleton, she thought. Give me a sunny day, and I feel I canconquer nations.

The feeling lasted as far as the church, which looked even smallerin the morning light. She saw two men digging graves at the edgeof the cemetery behind the church, then stood where she was andwatched as Harper and Wilkie carried out a body wrapped onlyin a blanket. "Oh, Major Sheffield, why did it have to end thisway? Why couldn't you be exempt from war?" she asked outloud. She came closer, noticing that Sheffield was barefoot now,even his socks gone. With a question in her eyes, she looked atJesse, who had followed the body outdoors.

He came to stand beside her. "It's one hundred and fifty miles to

the Portuguese border," he reminded her. "We may need hisboots more than he will." He took her arm, and moved away fromthe others. "After they are buried, I have something to show you.It's something I learned last night from Sonia's husband."

She nodded, then hoped for one irrational moment that he wouldkeep his arm on her hand. To her delight, he moved it up to hershoulder, and pulled her in close to him when the soldiers putSheffield into the grave. "They've already buried Jenks," hewhispered in her ear. "Oh, Eli-nore, this is harder than anythingthat happened last night."

Maybe you need comfort, too, she thought, and slipped her armaround his waist. "He told me once that he thought you would do... as a surgeon," she whispered back, gratified when he stooped alittle to hear her.

"High praise from the crusty old boy," he replied, and she couldtell he was pleased, even as he struggled to maintain hiscomposure.

She knew she could not look at the grave, not with FatherEsteban praying, and Wilkie and Harper, so serious, poised therewith shovels. She looked at Jesse instead, relieved to see that theswelling had greatly diminished on his temple. Dan O'Leary musthave applied the plaster, which pulled the laceration together. Hiseye was black, to be sure, but it was partly open now. She wasglad he was not a great deal taller than she was, because it wasnice to stay there with her head inside the reach of his arm,pulled close to his chest. She closed her eyes and listened to hisheart, and cried for Major Sheffield, best of men. She felt Jesse'slips on her hair, and then he turned his face down against hers,because he obviously did not wish to look at the sight before him,either.

He released his hold on her when the grave was filled in andstepped forward to speak to the soldiers. "Private Wil-kie, find a

string and run it through Major Sheffield's boots. They'll probablyfit you, and you can carry them. Corporal Harper, tell Daniel Iwant to talk to him." He touched Elinore's back. "Come insidewith me."

He sat her down at a table in a cold room off the chapel andspread out a piece of paper before her. "Last night, Sonia'shusband told me that out of all the horses in Mar-mont's division,Harper managed to steal the horse of General Souham himself."

She stared back, her eyes wide. "He certainly has a knack fortrouble."

"No doubt." Jesse sat beside her on the narrow bench. "FatherEsteban can read French. What we have here is a list of all theFrench army in Spain. I doubt it is something of any earthshakingimportance to Sir Arthur, because I think Wellington mustalready have this information. But look at this." He pointed toanother page, closely written. "Father tells me this little pagedescribes their proposed winter campaign."

"We should take this with us, and hurry to the border," she said.

"Well, yes and no," Jesse replied. "Since I command such a largearmy of my own here, I propose this instead, my dear. While Danand I conduct a little clinic this morning in the village, will youcopy these two pages? I want to put the originals back inSouham's saddlebags, then turn his horse loose. Let's allow thegeneral to find his horse again, and not suspect that anyone hasthe information in the saddlebags, eh?"

She nodded. "We'll be on foot to the border?"

"Alas, yes. That other horse is so old that it probably pulled aplow for Methuselah, and the wagon is too heavy. Father Estebanthinks that farmers will give us rides along the way, and I can payour way by holding sick call in the villages."

She nodded again. "I've never minded walking."

He hesitated, and she felt her doubts returning. "That's anothermatter I want to discuss with you and Daniel. And here he is.Dan, sit down. I have rather a large favor to ask you, but first, Iwant your professional opinion."

"Do you think it is worth anything, after last night?"

Jesse smiled patiently. "Dan, you're exasperating, at times. Whyshould you know anything about childbirth, anyway? It is not ourusual wartime dilemma. No, Dan, I want your professionalopinion about our soldiers."

Daniel's face was flushed, but he swallowed, then raised his eyesto Jesse's. "I think that Marlow could probably walk if he had to,but the other two will die."

"My opinion precisely." He took a deep breath. "I am going topropose that you remain here in Santos with the men. FatherEsteban assures me that the village will hide you, but I am notgoing to tell you it will not be dangerous. By this afternoon, Ibelieve the French will be everywhere." He put up his hand whenDaniel opened his mouth. "No, think about it for a moment. Wecould leave the men here, and you could come with us. Theywould probably survive."

Daniel was silent a long moment. "We don't know that, do we?"

"We do not, my friend." Jesse touched Dan's hand. "I shouldstay, but I feel I must get to the border with this information." Hesighed. "And there is Bones."

"I will stay." Dan looked at Elinore. "What about Nell?"

Elinore held her breath, then let it out slowly when Jesse took herhand. "Elinore, Senora Ramos said you could remain with them.If you were working as a maid there, I doubt the French wouldeven know you were in the village. In the spring when the armyreturns, I could retrieve you."

"No," she replied, her voice low. She moved her fingers in hisgrip, and he tightened it. "No. I can't stay here without you."

"It might be safer," he argued.

She shook her head. "There is no safety anywhere in this world,Captain. You know it and I know it. Consider this: my Spanishisn't very good, but yours is worse."

She could not avoid the uncertainty in his eyes, and then hishumor at her words. "You'll keep me out of trouble, eh?"

"And you'll get me to the border."

He released her hand. "I did promise that, didn't I?;'

"And a lot of other things, too," she told him. She took a deepbreath. "Get me a pen and paper. I have work to do." She lookedat Father Esteban, who stood by the door. "I believe Father ishere to remind you two that you have promised a sick call thismorning, and didn't you say the French were coming? Must Iremind you both that right now Major Sheffield would be lookingat his watch, tapping his foot, and muttering about the slacknessin the medical corps? Really, Captain! Set me a good example."

I can't believe that came out of my mouth, Elinore thought asJesse stared at her, then glanced at Dan, who was already smilingand on his feet. In another moment there was paper in front ofher, and a pen and inkwell. Well-done, Elinore, she told herself,and pulled the French battle plans closer. She looked up. Jessewas still standing there, and she couldn't interpret the look on hisface.

As she sat still, he leaned over behind her, put both arms aroundher, and leaned on the table, his face close to hers. "Elinore,you're too polite. You know that Dave Sheffield would havegrowled at me and said, 'Captain, pull your finger out of yourarse, wash your hands, and get busy.' "

She laughed, and gave him a little prod with her elbow. He stilldid not move, and she felt her body grow warm in places she hadnot expected. Goodness, but he is a distraction, she thought. "Goaway now," she said. "I have to get busy and ..." She stoppedwhen he kissed her ear, which made her feel even warmer in thatcold room.

"Elinore, I do believe you are a martinet," he said. "Why is it thata man doesn't learn these sad facts before he is married?"

And then he was gone, following Daniel out the door and pickingup his medical satchel as he went. She shook her head, dipped thepen in the inkwell, and began to copy the report. The pleasantwarmth spread up to her stomach. "H'mm," she said.

"Tell him to open wide and say ah."

Jesse pushed up his sleeves and peered down yet another throat,this one belonging to a child held against his will by his mother. Ithad been a morning of bruises, sore throats, minor burns, and oneboil to lance, but nothing that required his full attention. It gavehim time to think of Elinore, usually so quiet and tractable,ordering him about. The funny part was, he didn't mind. Hewanted to peer down the last sore throat, go back to the roomwhere she sat copying the paper, pull her onto his lap, and seewhat she would do. And still I have no time, he thought.Hippocrates, this is not fair, and you know it.

"Tell this little beast's mama to give him a spoonful of honeyevery hour, and lots of water."

He waited while Father Esteban translated, and listened for hisrendition of the woman's heated response. "She tells me that iswhat she is already doing. Can't you do better than that?"

"Father, I had nothing left in my satchel when we left Burgosyesterday!" he declared. "Honey and water are probably the bestremedy, anyway. No, wait, don't tell her that." He looked in his

satchel again, hoping for the appearance of some grandiosemedicament that would impress the woman.

At a loss, he dug deeper in his satchel. After a moment's search,all the while deeply aware of the woman's angry eyes, he cameacross the packet of sugar and the tea tin that he carried. I hopeyou're not watching, Hippocrates, he thought as he sprinkledsome of the sugar with a little alum into an empty pill envelope.He handed it to the woman as he spoke to the priest. "Tell herthat this is to be used quite sparingly, because it is so potent," hesaid, grateful that his old maestro was safely teaching in Milan,and nowhere near such heresy from his favorite student. "She isto sprinkle a pinch of it in a glass of boiled water— mind you, itmust be boiled water—let it dissolve entirely, and then make sureher boy drinks it all. This must be given one half hour after thehoney, or it will not be effective. Better tell her to hold his nosewhile he swallows, so he won't notice the taste." And pray God Iam long out of town, in case she decides to dip her finger in thesugar and finds out what I have prescribed.

Mercifully, the next patient—an old woman—wanted to talkabout her multitude of ailments. All he needed to do was nod insympathy, put his ear to her drooping breasts while she giggled,and tell her to get more rest and drink a glass of wine, preferablyred, before bed.

"Well, we did no harm, Dan," he said when Father Es-tebanescorted the last patient from the makeshift surgery. He looked atthe loaves of bread, cheese, and beaker of olive oil against thewall. "With that and Wilkie's ham— there had better be some left—we should make it to the next village."

Dan nodded. Jesse hesitated. "I hope you do not think I ambehaving badly by leaving you here."

"Not at all, sir," the hospital steward replied. "If we all stay, wewill probably be captured. It is also possible that the villagers

would begin to resent us even more if there are so many to feed."His voice hardened. "You must confront Major Bones when youreach the Portuguese lines. I rather think, sir, that you have givenme the easier task."

"Time will prove or disprove that."

Dan nodded. He got up from the table and repacked his medicalsatchel. He cleared his throat, but did not look at Jesse.

"Well?"

"Captain, if you please, take very good care of Elinore," Dansaid. "There is something about her." He shook his head, even asa rosy color traveled up from his neck. "I know you are marriedto her now, but, sir, there is something about her."

Jesse held out his hand. Dan looked at him in surprise, took itgingerly, then shook it. "I didn't marry her on a whim, Daniel, Ipromise you I didn't."

He could see the surprise in his steward's eyes. "Does she knowthat?"

"Not yet. I am still hoping to find the right time."

"Don't wait too long, Captain. Good-bye now. I will see youwhen Wellington returns in the spring."

"Indeed you will." He couldn't trust himself to say more. Danielseemed to have the same affliction. The steward slung his satchelacross his back, gave a small salute, and left the room. "Go withGod, lad," Jesse murmured.

When he returned to the room where he had left Elinore, she hadjust finished shaking sand across the page. She looked up, and hecould not ignore the trust in her eyes. Harper and Wilkie werelooking expectantly at him, too. We're a strange little companynow, he thought. We're a hospital with no patients, which is justas well, because my only medicine is sugar. I have two inept

soldiers who may be the biggest scoundrels in the Peninsula. Andthere is Elinore, who is looking at me as though I have the abilityto get us alive to Portugal. Hippocrates, this was not part of theOath.

"Are we ready?" he asked, hoping that he sounded moreconfident than he felt.

"Un momento, Capitan, por favor."

Jesse looked around. Father Esteban had followed him into theroom. Behind him was a tall man, probably as old as his father,but with a distinctly regal bearing. Jesse looked at his eyes, thenlooked away. You're a cold man, he thought.

"Captain, may I acquaint you with Armand Leger?"

Jesse took an involuntary step backward, even as both Harperand Wilkie moved closer. "He's French?" Jesse asked. "What areyou doing, Father Esteban?"

The priest held up his hand. "There is no betrayal here, my friend.Senor Leger has been hiding in our village. He is the favor Iwished to speak to you about yesterday. Will you take him withyou to the Portuguese border?"

Jesse looked at Elinore, a question in her eyes. She roseimmediately and came to stand beside him. In a moment he felther hand in his. "I ... I don't know what to say, Father," hereplied. "How is it that a Frenchman wants to get to the Englishlines?"

"I have no love for Napoleon," the man said. His words wereheavily accented, and his voice sounded rusty, as though he didnot speak much in any language.

"So you claim." Jesse waited for more explanation, but the manfolded his arms and was silent. He looked at Father Esteban. Thepriest would not meet his gaze.

"This is the condition for keeping our wounded, isn't it?" Elinoreasked, her voice calm. Jesse felt her tremble.

Father Esteban looked at her with an expression close to relief. "Ifear it must be. We are a small village. Senor Leger tells me thatthe French want him almost more than I think they want you.Please, senora, understand that I mean you no ill, but these aredifficult times. How many fugitives can Santos keep?"

Jesse could not deny the reality behind his words. "Why do theFrench want him?"

"He will not say."

Jesse could think of nothing to say. "He has us, Elinore," hestated finally. "Stuffed and trussed like a Christmas goose."

"Then we will make the best of it, Captain," she replied. Shesmiled up at him, and the trust in her eyes made his knees weak.

At the same time, that trust bit deep. He considered his wordscarefully in the silent room. "Senor Leger, or rather, MonsieurLeger, you may come with us, although we have no pretensionsof being much of an escort—no weapons, no horses, no soldiers—I can't in good conscience burden Wilkie or Harper here withthat honorific. But if we make it to the Portuguese border, youwill, too."

Leger bowed, and Jesse nodded. I can think that you understandEnglish, sir, he told himself. Good, because I am about to makemyself very plain. Hippocrates, stop up your ears for a moment."This is my wife, Elinore. Let me assure you of one thing,monsieur: If you in any way frighten her or try to do her harm, Iwill kill you with my bare hands."

Elinore gasped and looked at him, her eyes wide. He tightenedhis grip on her hand. "I mean it."

"Jesse, did you just hear yourself?" she asked.

He smiled to hear her speak his name. "You're right, Mrs.Randall. I did promise a lot of things in that tent, didn't I?"

Chapter TenThey left Santos before the noon hour, each carrying a medicalsatchel, a white cloth bag with a large cross on the front. Jesse

also slung the leather knapsack his mother had given him over hisshoulder, unable to abandon the glass bottles and mortar andpestle of his profession, even though the bottles were empty.

With no little qualm, he had left behind the handsome woodencase with the velvet-covered indentations for the tools of his

trade. He had wrapped the bone saw, forceps, lancets, probe, andscalpel in a towel and stuffed them in the knapsack.

"You can always have another case made," Elinore had advisedhim when he mourned overlong at this task.

He nodded, and then felt embarrassed over his pettiness. She hadnothing but the clothes she stood in, and he was suffering the lossof a velvet-lined box? He accepted the bottle of olive oil thatElinore handed him and added it to his pack.

Sheffield's nearly new boots dangled from a rope around Wilkie'sneck. The private had felt too proprietary about his ham torelinquish it, so it hung from his neck as well, in a small cloth bagthat caused no end of excitement among the dogs of Santos.

"Hey, there, you ought to give it to me, Wilkie," Harper said. "I'ma little farther away from the ground than you are."

Wilkie drew himself up to his full height. "You, Private, are acutpurse, a sneak, and a soft-soaping opportunist. I do not trustyou with my ham."

Harper just rolled his eyes. "And you are more trustworthy?"

"Really, gentlemen," Elinore scolded. In the satchel containingbandages and plasters, she placed the rest of the bread that Jesseand Daniel had earned at their clinic. She wrapped the cheesecarefully in a cloth and added it to the satchel that used to be thechief surgeon's. She hesitated. Jesse, should I ask Monsieur Legerto carry it?"

"Why not? He is probably planning to eat on this journey. Aren'tyou, sir?"

"I do not, as a rule, carry parcels," the Frenchman said.

"You will make an exception, won't you?"' Jesse asked. "I do sodislike eating in front of people."

It didn't sound particularly threatening to him, but Harper gavehim a look and straightened up, and Leger took the bag and slungit over his shoulder. Not glancing at any of them, he started downthe road to Salamanca. Jesse watched him go. "My father tookthe Grand Tour of Europe once, before Napoleon, when peopletook such trips. He told me that without fail, every tour containedsomeone better left behind at a rest stop."

She laughed. "Imagine touring Europe just to see things."

"Would you like to do that someday?"

She considered the matter, and he liked the way she pursed herlips in thought. "No, I think not," she said at last. "I think I haveseen enough of Europe."

He heard the wistfulness in her voice, and it touched him. Hewanted to tell her about his parents and their home inDunfermline on the Firth of Forth, and his own house in Dundee—legacy from a grandfather—waiting for him. She will think Iam boasting, he told himself and said nothing.

He visited the patients one last time. Marlowe was sitting up and

taking an interest in his surroundings. "I could come along,Captain," he said. "I hate to think that you have to depend on thesoldiering abilities of the likes of Wilkie and Harper."

Jesse sat beside him. "Corporal Marlowe, you are all kindness,but I fear you are not quite ready for a long walk. I trust that youwill be helpful here in Santos."

It wrenched his heart to leave his patients, even though he knewthey were in Dan O'Leary's capable hands. He thought of MajorBones and the terrible deeds he had set in motion, and the pagesfrom Souham's saddlebags that Elinore had tucked in the bit ofdoubled-over sacking that protected his lancets and bone saw.Hippocrates, was life so complicated in Greece? he asked as hestood still for Father Esteban to bless him, then joined the otherson the long road that led to the Portuguese border.

The afternoon was calm and cool as they began their retreat.Father Esteban had told them to expect no shelter this night,because they were at least a day's walk to the next village. Aftera mile or two, they had adjusted to each other's strides, whichmeant that Harper and Wilkie began in front. Armand Leger wasa speck in the distance. Jesse slowed his walked to suit Elinore'ssmaller step, but he could not overlook her frown. "What is it, mydear?"

"I am going to slow down everyone," she said. "I don't mean to."

He clapped his arm around her shoulder. "Elinore, we can suitourselves now."

''You are so certain?" she asked, her expression doubtful.

He looked around elaborately. "Who is there to tell us what todo? As senior officer commanding, this is my retreat, and I like itthis way." She smiled at him, and he knew there was not a morebeautiful woman in all Spain.

He hoped she would want to talk, but he felt shy then, as he

invariably did when he thought of her beauty and kindness, andhis own inadequacies. Harper and Wilkie were talking andlaughing some paces ahead, and he wanted to tell her how longhe had admired her, and his plans for their future. He wanted todescribe each room of his home in Dundee, from the sunny littlesitting room off the large bedroom upstairs that overlooked aflower garden and an herb patch, to the room down the hall thathe knew would make an excellent nursery. No, no, that wouldembarrass her, he thought, then smiled to himself, thinking of therough birth only the night before. I am an idiot. Maybe I shouldtell her of the blue saloon downstairs and the dining room, andthe room off the main floor next to the book room that wouldmake an excellent office and dispensary for my practice. Youwould never have to move again, my love.

He said nothing, too tied up in his thoughts. He glanced at her,and saw how she appeared to be struggling to say something tohim. To his surprise, she stopped in the road. "I have to ask yousomething," she said in a rush.

"Please do," he said, and waved on Harper and Wilkie, who hadstopped, too.

She shifted the satchel to her other shoulder, and looked down atthe ground, for all the world a drab little figure in her browncloak. He took in her shabbiness, and it pained him that she knewnothing better. When she would not look up, he touched hershoulder. She raised her glance as high as the middle button onhis uniform.

"Captain, I don't know how to say this," she began, her wordscoming as slowly as though each one was pulled by the roots."All that happened yesterday is my fault."

He couldn't believe his ears. "Elinore . . . ."

"No. It is," she insisted. "If I had just gone with Major Bones, youknow that the Chief would be alive. Number Eight would still be

protected by a regiment, and Private Jenks would be alive. MajorBones would not have killed the alcalde, and his daughter wouldbe safe." She looked at him then, and there was no disguising theanguish in her eyes. "Why did you have to be so kind? No oneelse in the regiment has ever given me a thought, or cared aboutmy mother."

"Surely you did not want to go with Major Bones?" Oh, stop me,Hippocrates, he thought in desperation. I sound like a prude.

"How can you think that?" She looked at the ground again, andhe knew he had humiliated her. "It's just that... that . . . thewearisome Masons set something in motion, and we do not knowhow far those consequences will extend. I am sorry. I ... I ...suppose I just hope that you do not have too many regrets. I willdo what I can to be useful, but I would never dream of holdingyou to any promises made in haste. Please believe me."

He took her by the shoulders, and peered into her troubled face.He knew he wanted to pull her as close as he could and tell herhow much he loved her, but he also knew that in her presentstate, she would not believe him. He wondered what would bethe right thing, and feared to say anything. The distress grew onher face.

Slowly, carefully, he put his arms around her, and pulled herclose against his body. She started in surprise at his nearness."Elinore, you have to understand one thing right now," he saidsoftly, speaking into her hair. "This was not your fault."

"It was!" she insisted, and he winced at the bitterness in hervoice. "You and the Chief know that the Masons have alwaysbeen bad luck."

"And didn't I tell you that you would have Randall luck now?"

It must have been the way he said it. The moment the words lefthis mouth, he could almost see them as animate objects, looking

back at him, covering their little mouths and chortling. "God,what a stupid thing I just said," he told her. "Here we are in themiddle of nowhere with hams and cheese around our necks andolive oil, and sugar for medicine, French everywhere, and I bragabout Randall luck! You must think you have married thebarmiest lunatic who ever broke loose from his muzzle andchain."

He knew he had stopped her destructive thought process by thewondering way she stared at him. "I should be locked up in acage, Elinore, and only allowed out to ... to piddle in a pot anddrool into a washrag."

She laughed. More than that, she obviously couldn't help herself.She didn't break away from his hold on her, but leaned into himnow, laughing. He didn't know if he should be alarmed or not, buthe didn't hear any high-pitched edge to her laughter. He realizedwith a start that he had never heard her laugh like that before, ahearty sound that made him want to laugh, too. He looked at thesoldiers. They were grinning, even though they couldn't haveheard their exchange. It was that kind of a laugh.

She laughed until she had to put her hand to her middle, thenleaned away and sat herself down on a sun-warmed boulder bythe road. She sat there with her legs apart and her elbows restingon her knees and looked up at him, her eyes merry. She lookedworlds away from the quiet young woman who helped in thehospital tent.

He came closer and laid his hand on her head for just a moment."Don't go assigning blame, my dear," he said quietly. Therewasn't much room, but he sat beside her, their rumps touching."We have bigger challenges ahead of us."

She touched his hand. "I just couldn't leave it unsaid, Captain."She hesitated, and again it was as though the words waited totumble out. "I've lived my whole life so far with people who

never said what they felt. I don't think it made them happy. Idon't want that now. If I am boorish at times, if I fumble, pleaseknow this: I want to get it right."

She was looking at him so earnestly that he forgot for a momentthe precariousness of their present situation. The rock was warm,she was close, and he wanted to kiss and hang the fact thatHarper and Wilkie were watching. To his serious irritation,reason prevailed, and he did nothing more than nudge her a little."You'll get it even righter if you call me Jesse now instead ofCaptain."

She nodded, and he could almost feel her shyness. "Yes, Ishould." She smiled then in the familiar way she had in thehospital tent, where she would look down and smile as she turnedaway, a fleeting smile that had always seemed like the veriestglimpse of paradise to him. "Yes, I should do it. After all, we aremarried."

"We are."

When night overtook them, the only sign of civilization was acrude shrine where two roads intersected. Signs of the retreatingarmy were everywhere: a discarded canteen, paper caught in abush, the deep tracks of wagons and cannons hauled through mudthat was hardening now, but only waited another rain to turn itback into sludge. A sign indicated that the nearest town wouldn'tbe reached until long after darkness fell.

He asked the others about continuing on, but no one seemedinclined. He didn't have to ask them why. After what hadhappened last night, the idea of approaching another village atdusk had no appeal. Also unspoken among them was the fear thatthrough every village, Major Bones was warning the citizens ofstragglers to follow.

He gave grudging credit to Harper, because the man had an eyefor a good campsite. With Jesse's reluctant permission, he asked

to go ahead, and returned not fifteen minutes later. "I've found asnice a spot as anyone could wish."

A quarter mile from the road was a small meadow with a springgurgling from rocks. Through some alchemy—perhaps becausethe meadow was protected by a decent-sized ridge—the leavesstill clung to trees. Though not vibrant green anymore, at least thegrass did not crunch dry and dead underfoot. Across a small riveror large stream, depending on one's way of looking at things, hesupposed, they could see an estate.

"Do you suppose this is their land?" Elinore asked as she unslungthe two satchels she carried and removed her cloak. "I hope theydo not mind."

Her words told him volumes, even if she had not faltered duringthe long afternoon of steady walking. He knew from longexperience that she did not complain, but he also knew that shegenerally rode with the hospital baggage train or on horsebackwith her mother, at least when Mason hadn't gambled away thefamily's horses. With a look around, she walked into the bushes,probably in need of a moment's solitude to take care of personalmatters. He made a point to stand between her and others untilshe came out of the bushes again, smoothing down her dress.

"Thank you," she said, too shy to look at him.

The sun went down as the night grew cool. Wilkie suggested afire, and Jesse pondered the matter before agreeing to a modestone. "After all, Private, I do not know if we should be moreconcerned about the Spanish, the French, or Major Bones," hesaid.

"All three, Captain," Wilkie said emphatically as he cleared acircle, lined it with stones, and started a small fire.

Armand Leger had been walking ahead of them all afternoon,and Jesse had forgotten about him. While Elinore was slicing

cheese and Harper peeling sticks for toasting bread, he joinedthem again, standing on the edge of the clearing until Jessemotioned him over.

"You should not have let me walk on like that," he accused.

"Oh, you speak English," Jesse said, refusing to let the mandisrupt the serenity that was beginning to settle around him."Perhaps in future you could stay closer to us."

"You could walk faster if the woman did not slow you down. Youshould have left her in Santos. How will we ever get to theborder?"

Bastard, Jesse thought. "I would leave you first," he replied,turning to add more wood to the fire.

He hoped Elinore had not heard, but the vigorous way she startedslicing the cheese told him otherwise. "He's right, you know," shesaid in an angry, voice.

"No, he isn't," Jesse contradicted. "I'm depending on yourSpanish, and also the fact that you are a woman. Soldiers mustsurely be less suspicious, if there is a woman."

She made no comment, but he could tell she was thinking abouthis words. In another minute, she began to hum as she stackedthe cheese on a flat rock by the fire.

When it was full dark, they sat by the fire eating bread dipped inolive oil and toasted cheese. Wilkie provided the ham. No onetalked. They had not eaten since Santos, and the food went downlike a six-course banquet. Elinore sat closer to the fire, expertlyturning the cheese fork that Harper had made for her, careful notto set the stick blazing, or allow the cheese to drip into the fire.He moved closer to her, content to prop himself against the smallboulder she sat on, and watch her graceful motions.

"I haven't had cheese toasted so well since I was home in

Dunfermline," he said, accepting the piece she held out to him."It's almost as good as my mother's."

She smiled that fleeting smile he enjoyed so well, and looked atHarper. "Another, Private?" she asked, then attached the slicewhen he nodded. "I would have thought your mother had acook."

"She did—still does, I imagine—but it never took too muchurging to get her to give Mrs. Aiken the night off and tote out thecheese and sausages."

She finished toasting the cheese and held the stick out to Harper,who took it with his thanks. When no one else indicated a needfor another slice, she brushed off her hands on her apron andpleased Jesse's heart by sitting beside him. She closed her eyes,and he could tell how tired she was. He also knew that she wouldnever complain.

"Do you miss Dunfermline?" she asked, her eyes still closed.

"In some ways, yes, although at the moment I am hard put tothink of any."

"Tell me, Captain. Was it heaven to live in one place when yougrew up?"

He chuckled. "I didn't know any different!" He thought amoment, then felt the need of her closer. "Elinore, come closer.I'm getting chilly."' He held out his arm to her. Without anyhesitation, she moved into that space he knew she inhabited sowell. "I know you will think this strange, but I had a childhoodyou might have been familiar with."

"Oh, I doubt that," she murmured, her voice a little muffled byhis greatcoat.

"Hear me out. My family was one of two Catholic families in theentire district. I'm sure that the McDonalds, Campbells, and

Fergussons wondered why we Randalls didn't follow BonniePrince Charlie after Culloden, but the Randalls are a stubbornbunch."

"I would wonder, too."

He shrugged. "There was a lot of land involved. Well, mybrothers and I were on the outs among the neighborhood'schildren. I don't know what their parents thought they wouldcatch from us, but they were determined not to find out."

"I do know how that feels," she told him in a small voice. "Youwonder what you have done wrong, and is it your fault."

"Precisely. I think it made me shy." He grinned in the dark."Have you noticed?"

He was rewarded with a chuckle of her own and a light slap onhis chest. He covered her hand with his. She did not pull away,but sighed and moved closer. He rested his chin lightly on herhair, and wondered briefly if he had ever been happier. It struckhim then. "Elinore, do you realize this is the first time in ... oh, letme think . . . twelve years—twelve years!—that I have not beenhalf listening for a call to the charity ward in Milan, or a barrackssomewhere, or a battlefield, or a marching hospital."

Elinore tightened her grip on him. In a moment he felt her otherarm behind him as she encircled him in her warmth. "I supposewe should feel frightened or worried," she whispered into hisuniform. "We're one hundred and fifty miles from the border, andI fear the Spanish are looking at us like guests who have stayedtoo long at a banquet and drunk all the sherry."

"I suppose," he agreed, "but I am disinclined to care." Hebreathed deep of the wood smoke—it smelled like cedar—andthe pleasant odor of sun still trapped in Elinore's hair. Her breastwas soft against his chest, not so much arousing him ascomforting him. She relaxed against him and in another moment

was breathing evenly.

His eyes were closing when he heard horses on the other side ofthe river. Harper was already on his feet, and then looking at him."Elinore, wake up," Jesse whispered.

She was on her feet in a moment, too, and he wondered howsoundly any of them would sleep until they were safe behind thebarricades of Torres Vedres. She did not cry out or try to cling tohim, but stood still, her hands clasped together, probablyexercising the control she had learned since her youngest yearswith the British army.

When they came closer, he counted ten riders, all of themarmed. "Quien es?" asked the cloaked figure at the head of thecolumn.

"Somos soldados y un medico" he said, every nerve alert andaware that he stood apart from the others of Number Eight, atarget as sure as the Chief had been a target.

Elinore was at his side then. He wanted to push her away fromthe horsemen, but he pulled her close instead. "Y este es miesposa," he said, gesturing to her, and hoping that he could beunderstood.

Trying to appear calmer than he felt, he looked into the faces ofthe men. As he watched, they lost their wary edge. One of themdismounted and came toward him, to bow courteously andextend his hands to them both.

"He says he was wondering about the fire on his land, and hopingthat it was not the French again," Elinore whispered. "He wantsto know how we came to be alone here. I will tell him we wereseparated from our division." She spoke to the landowner. If herlanguage was halting, he did not seem to mind. She turned backto Jesse. "He has invited us to his estancia." She hesitated. "Hewishes some advice on his old dog, who has very bad breath."

She held up her hands. "I think that is what he said! Don't youdare laugh."

He didn't, even though he wanted to. "Elinore, do I need to get amore reliable translator? One that I will have to pay?" he teased."Tell him we accept with pleasure."

While the horsemen spoke among themselves, Jesse turned backto Harper and Wilkie and explained where they were going.Harper insisted upon accompanying them, relenting only whenJesse said he would be safe with Eli-nore, and besides, who wasthere to keep an eye on Ar-mand Leger? "I don't like it, sir,"Harper stated flatly.

"You're determined to be my bodyguard, aren't you, Private?"Jesse said. "Thank you for that, but I need you to remain here. Ipromise we will return before midnight. If we do not, you havemy permission to storm the castle and take all prisoners."

"Don't think I won't, sir," the private replied, and Jesse almostbelieved him.

When he turned his attention back to the horsemen, Eli-nore wasalready seated behind the landowner, one arm around his waistand her hand holding onto his belt. Another man held out hishand, while someone else boosted him up behind another rider.They crossed the river, and in a matter of minutes were on a roadthat led to an estate.

Few lights shone, and he felt a momentary uneasiness that wasrelieved by Elinore's laughter at something the landowner said toher. They rode through the gates. Even in the darknessilluminated only by the moon, he saw the scars of war andneglect.

Dinner was held in the great hall. Beyond learning that this wasthe Maldonado estancia, and that two sons fought with the Dukeof Santander, one of Wellington's staunch-est allies, there was

little conversation. The Maldonados preferred to eat, althoughElinore did carry on a halting dialogue with Senora Maldonadothat involved simple phrases on Elinore's part, and much smilingbetween the women.

Calling them courses was generous. The Maldonados, like mostof Spain's minor nobility, had suffered under Napoleon's effortsto keep Spain. The food, served on beautiful silver plates, wasplain, the wine barely more than grape juice. In fact, SenorMaldonado had lifted his glass and made both a face and a toast:"To the French, who knew good wine when they came here in1806 and cleaned out the cellars."

Jesse followed Elinore's lead, assuring their hosts, when thedishes came around again, that they were full and couldn'tpossibly eat any more. He hated to think that they might beeating the Maldonados' food for the week. Dessert was a simpleplate of almonds, probably from the groves they had walked pastearlier in the afternoon. As he sat in the company of new friends,with Elinore by his side, Jesse felt a great exhaustion cover him.His temple was starting to throb again. All he wanted to do waslie down and sleep, but there was one more event, if he couldbelieve his wife.

"Uh, Senor Maldonado, uh, tiene un perro viejoV

He expected a blank stare—Elinore couldn't have translated thatproperly—but his host smiled, put two ringers to his lips asSenora Maldonado winced, and whistled.

From the gloomy interior of the next room came an enormousdog. "My stars, he was serious," Elinore whispered, her eyeswide. "Jesse, he weighs more than you do."

"Well, more than you, at least," he replied, unable to take hiseyes from the dog. He looked vaguely like a Saint Bernard—hehad seen those in the Italian alps on holiday from medical school—but with a benign air, and all the good nature in the universe.

He reminded Jesse of an old Jew in the Milan marketplace, amountain of a man in a black Astrakhan coat, with flowingearlocks and beard, who moved slowly or not at all, depending onthe weather.

The dog walked to his master and sank at his feet. SenorMaldonado beckoned to him. "Ven aca, senor."

Jesse did as he was bid, unable to keep the smile off his face.Hippocrates, I hope you are busy elsewhere at the moment, hethought. This will be my first four-legged patient. He knelt by thedog, which turned his massive head slowly, and breathed on him.

"Oh, my," Jesse said, when he could talk. He dabbed at his eyes."Elinore, please tell Senor Maldonado that I see what he means."When she said nothing, he looked around to see the two womendissolved in silent laughter. Even Senor Maldonado was lookingaway, a smile on his face. "If it isn't too much trouble, Elinore,that is . . ."

He could tell that his bride, the woman of his dreams andhopefully the mother of his children, would not prove entirelyuseful in the examination. After giving her a glance that shouldhave dissolved nails, but only made her gasp and look away tostudy a painting, he indicated to the landowner to hold his dog'shead and try to open his mouth.

"Nothing simpler," Senor Maldonado said. He pried open thebeast's mouth. "A su servicio," he said, and winked at Jesse.

Taking a deep breath, Jesse moved closer and cautiously stuckhis hand inside the cavern with teeth, all the while anticipating asudden chomp that would end his surgical career forever, and fithim for selling matches on some street corner in Dundee. Hecalled for a lamp, and when it was situated close at hand, took agood look. These are old, he thought, fascinated in spite ofhimself. He ran his fingers lightly over the worn teeth.

"Cual es su nombre?" Elinore asked.

"Lobo," Senor Maldonado said.

There may have been a time when the old gentleman looked likea wolf, but too many years and good meals had come and gonesince then, Jesse thought. "Lobo," he said, and was rewardedwith several thumps of the big dog's massive tail. "You, sir, are indire need of a toothbrush. Oh, turn your head, por favor."

He was hard put to describe what he needed, but Elinore rescuedhim, describing a kitchen brush for pots. Senora Maldonadofinally understood. The two of them left the table and went downthe hall, where Jesse heard them erupt in pent-up laughter.

Senor Maldonado looked at him and shrugged. "Mu-jeres," hemuttered. "You understand."

He did. Oh, he did.

The women returned with a new pot brush, a paste of soda andsalt, and an apron for Jesse. Lobo, a most obliging patient, had noobjection to keeping his mouth open while Jesse scrubbed fromfront to back. It might have even felt good, because Lobo waggedhis tail and breathed happily and without discrimination on bothhis master and his private physician. He also leaned against Jesse,pressing his great weight until Senor Maldonado noticed whatwas going on and straightened up the dog before Jesse toppled.

When he finished, Jesse blotted the great teeth with a damp cloth."I must say that is rather fine," he said. He looked at Elinore,whose eyes were merrier than he had ever seen them before. "Imay have learned a new trade, my dear, in case surgery getsslow. Do find a way to tell Senor Maldonado that I recommendhe feed Lobo a generous handful of parsley with each meal. Mintwould also be nice."

She did as he said, obviously trying to hold back that big laugh heknew she was capable of. She kept her demeanor calm, and

Senor Maldonado nodded at her words. "He said to tell you he ismost grateful, Jesse, and that he wishes— oh, my stars!—thatyou lived in the neighborhood all the time. He asks if you are alsoproficient with cattle."

"Tell him no." Jesse sat back and scratched Lobo's massive head."If you were a cat, you would purr," he told the dog. "But thankGod you are not a cat. I would be in shreds and tatters right now,gargling out my life with a great hole in my throat." He looked atElinore. "I have an idea. Let's see how grateful Senor Maldonadois. Ask him if he could take us in a wagon to the next towntomorrow."

It turned out that the landowner was quite grateful, promising tohave his bailiff meet them tomorrow morning. As her husbandsummoned his men and prepared to return them to the clearing,Senora Maldonado insisted on giving them two blankets, andmore bread and cheese, as well as a sausage that Jesse thoughtwould fit well enough in Wil-kie's bag. She also draped a woolenshawl over Elinore's shoulders.

They rode back to the clearing the same way they had come.Wilkie and Leger appeared to be asleep, but Harper stood by thefire. When he was on the ground again, Jesse held out his hand tohis generous host, who chose instead to grasp him in a firm hug.He spoke to Elinore. "He says to tell you that you are a mostobliging man, and he hopes we have no trouble from the French.His bailiff will be here in the morning."

"Gracias, senor," Jesse replied.

"For nada. Vaya con dios." The horsemen left the clearing, andsoon were across the river.

Jesse stood close to Elinore. She turned to look at him, rose up,and kissed his cheek. "My hero," she whispered. "I could smellthat dog's breath across the table. I think you're marvelous."

"I think you're a great tease," he said. "You mustn't make fun ofmy patients."

She laughed and took one of the blankets from him. The fire hadburned down to coals now. With a sigh she took out the pins andshook her hair loose. Jesse joined her by the fire. Harper hadcurled up next to Wilkie, and Armand Leger lay by himself, hiscloak clutched around him. Jesse took the other blanket theMaldonados had given him and spread it over the Frenchman,who sat up in surprise. "Merci," he said. "Merci."

"I suppose you are expecting me to share with you," Elinorewhispered.

"I am. It's the least you can do for an amazingly proficient animaldoctor."

She laughed and spread a smaller blanket by the fire and took offher shoes, then turned away from the sleeping men andunbuttoned her waist. She lay down then, and Jesse joined her,pulling the blanket over both of them. She turned to face him."How far do you think we came today?"

He thought a moment. "Probably no more than ten miles."

She was silent then, and he thought she had fallen asleep. Heknew his own eyes were closing when she touched his face withher fingertips, and put her lips close to his ear. "Thank you forlistening to me."

"M'mm." He wanted to say something profound that would melther heart, but his brain seemed to be melting and sliding out hisears.

"Jesse?"

"Mmm."

"Was that Randall luck? If so, I think it is odd, indeed."

He woke, hours later, to the sound of horses. Whether they wereacross the river or closer he could not tell. He knew he shouldlook around, but Elinore was close against him and his hand hadsomehow found its way inside her unbuttoned waist. If I move, Iwill wake her, he thought. He lay still, enjoying her warmth andthe feel of her.

He listened more intently, and convinced himself it was but onerider, two at most. Senor Maldonado is a conscientious host, hethought. Let us pray, though, that he left the dog behind.

Jesse's eyes began to close. Elinore sighed and burrowed closer. Imust be imagining things, he reasoned, or Harper would be on hisfeet by now. Funny about Harper. Perhaps I have beenunderestimating him. He breathed in the fragrance of Elinore'shair and closed his eyes. I wonder, Hippocrates, how many othersI have been underestimating. Am / in that census?

Chapter ElevenHe decided in the morning that the horsemen had been his

imagination. Elinore shook her head when he asked if she hadheard anything. Harper frowned, and Jesse saw the concern onhis face, and an even more unexpected reaction: shame. "Gor,Captain, I should have heard something. Some soldier I am."

With surprising ease, Jesse resisted the urge to make one of hispatented cuts at Harper's military prowess. He knew that onlyyesterday he would have done so, but the sight last night ofHarper alert at the campsite waiting for him and Elinore to returnchanged his mind. "Do not trouble yourself with it," he saidinstead. "I could very well have imagined the entire episode. Infact, I think that likely." He knew Harper was not convinced, but

he noticed something else, too. He smiled. "We're all a bit edgy,what?"

Harper smiled back. "Aye, sir," he replied. He hesitated.

"Go on, man, speak."

Harper looked at Elinore, who was folding the blankets, andlowered his voice. "Sir, if she gets tired, give me a sign. I canalways carry her. She can't weigh much."

Oh, Hippocrates, who would call me sentimental after all theseyears of war? Jesse thought as the tears started behind his eyelids.He touched Harper's arm and nodded. He realized with a start,that despite his closeness to the soldiers by the nature of hiswork, he was in deep danger at that moment of seeing thisbumbling, inept scoundrel as a man. The moment was onlyreinforced when Harper cleared his throat again.

"Captain, I know you can throw me in the stockade for what I'mgoing to say."

Jesse looked around elaborately. "Not a stockade in sight,Private."

"Captain, I know you married her on the quick," he whispered,"but I'm thinking—excuse me—that maybe ..." He stopped,looked at the ground, and gave a short laugh. "Gor, who wouldthink I would ever blush?" He looked Jesse in the eye then, hisexpression kindly. "You love her, sir, don't you? We'll see thatshe gets to the border, no matter what." He looked down again."Wilkie and I just wanted you to know."

You're a braver man than I am, Private, Jesse thought. I haven'teven the courage to look you in the eye after that statement."Thank you," he whispered, his eyes on the tree line beyond theriver. "I can't tell you what that means to me to know that."

"Gor, sir, I think you just did. Like I said: she can't weight much."

Then he was gone to help Wilkie with the bedrolls and argueabout the remaining ham. Jesse watched him and thought of his maestro, who had reminded him, after he hooded him atgraduation, to learn something new every day.

Senor Maldonado's word was good. When they finishedbreakfast, the bailiff arrived with a wagon. "I can't take you anyfarther than Torquemada," he told Elinore, who translated."Senora, but mi jefe wants his cart off the road if the French arenearby."

"We understand, senor," she replied, and favored him with hersunniest smile, which only made him blush, then tug at his collar,good Spaniard that he was. "Please tell Senor Maldonado that weare in his debt."

"I didn't mean to embarrass him, but it is so easy with Spanishmen," she said to Jesse as he helped her into the wagon, whichwas loaded with sacks of grain. She patted his cheek. "They arealmost as shy as you are, Captain. Jesse."

"Or you?" he teased in turn.

Or me, she thought, even as she nerved herself to smile at him,too, and wonder how shy he really was. She had wakened oncelast night to feel his hand inside her unbuttoned waist, next to hershimmy, his fingers warm. She could tell from his breathing thathe was deep in sleep, and she enjoyed the moment with itsirrational sense again of safety in a world where there was nosafety.

Before she returned to sleep, she had lightly traced her fingerdown one of his fingers, and wondered if a prerequisite tomatriculation in medical school demanded that all surgeons haveelegant hands. She had seen them wrist-deep in blood before, orspattered with less exalted detritus from the bodies of hispatients, and there he was last night, his hand pressed to herstomach, holding her close. She didn't know why it should touch

her, but it did. How long have I really been in your care? sheasked herself, then dismissed the idea as profoundly stupid.

She looked at his back as he seated himself beside the bailiff. Hewas not a tall man, or even particularly robust-looking. He tookoff his cap to scratch his head, and she admired the deep red ofhis hair, long now, and curling around his uniform collar. I shouldprobably offer to trim that, she thought.

"From the way you admire him, I think you repose moreconfidence in Captain Randall than I do."

"Beg pardon?" She looked in surprise at the Frenchman, who satbehind her, sacks of grain between them. When he did not reply,she said, "I did not know your English was so polished,monsieur."

He shrugged, and leaned back against the grain, closing his eyes."Life is full of surprises, Madame Randall," he said, when shethought he was asleep.

She debated all morning if she should tell Jesse. He will think Iam too suspicious, she decided, and resigned herself to thebumpy ride. It's no crime to speak excellent English. She tookanother look at the man before turning her attention to the view.

She did take time to mention the matter to her husband whenthey stopped at noon, pulling him aside. He listened carefully,inclining his head toward her. In fact, they were almost touching,and she felt again that irrational comfort. "I suppose I am beingfoolish," she concluded, aware of his proximity, rather than themessage she carried.

"I've never noticed that foolishness was one of your traits,Elinore," he replied.

What are my characteristics? she wanted to ask. Tell me aboutmyself, from your point of view. Do I look different from yourperspective than I do from my own? "I just don't like to feel

suspicious," she said, almost wincing at the lameness of herwords, especially when his head was touching hers now. She puther hand on his arm to steady herself, and in another momentfound herself in his embrace, there in the clearing at bright noon,with everyone looking on.

He didn't do anything but hold her. Not that she was planning tokiss him, she told herself, but what a pleasure to stand so close.Why am I doing this? she thought. More to the point, why is he?

He offered no explanation, at least not until they realized thatthey were standing there with others' eyes on them, and pulledaway slightly. "Better?" he asked, and she nodded. He releasedher, then pointed her toward the trees. "Go on, now. I'll standhere and give you a little privacy. Can't be pleasant, being theonly woman in this army."

She did as he said, relieving herself in the shade of a tree nearlybare of cover, but sheltering, all the same. I wonder what it is liketo have a room for a commode, and perhaps even a bath. As shestraightened her skirts again, she thought of her mother and theother women of the baggage train, who would gather around eachother in a circle on those long crossings of the Spanish plains,facing out and spreading their skirts while one of their numbertook a turn inside their protection. "Oh, Mama," she murmured,even as the tears came. It was such a homely situation, but shesuddenly wanted her mother.

She couldn't hide the tears in her eyes when she left the trees andfound the surgeon standing there, his back to her. "Thank you,"she said, and she knew her voice was unsteady. "I think this iswhen I miss my mother most and the other women," she said,bringing up what she knew was a topic men and women leftunsaid. He only looked at her, noted her tears, and regarded herwith no embarrassment.

"If you need to relieve yourself oftener than we stop, just let me

know," he told her as he took her arm and walked with her backto the clearing. "Don't hold back, just because you're shy." Henudged her, and she couldn't help laughing.

She was still smiling when they started again. Jesse decided towalk, and Harper helped Wilkie into the wagon. "His wound'splaguing him, Mrs. Randall. Right, Wilkie?"

"Bugger off," Wilkie said succinctly. "Pardon me, Mrs. Randall."He settled himself carefully beside a grain sack, tilted his capover his eyes and was soon asleep. Or so she thought, until shenoticed him raising up now and then to take a long look atArmand Leger, who glared back. Harper the slouch and cutpurse, and Wilkie the malingerer and opportunist, Elinorethought, and both of you my protectors.

She watched the Frenchman, who sat, his knees drawn up, staringat nothing. When he helped her into the wagon, Jesse had askedher to see if she could draw him out, but there was nothing aboutthe man that invited conversation. He even sat with one shoulderraised, as though ready to ward off inquiry. In for a penny, shethought. "Monsieur Leger, I suppose this is not my business, butsince we must exist together until the Portuguese border, why is itthat you are fleeing the French? One would think. . . ."

He stopped her with a stare that could have drilled through iron."You are right, Madame Randall; my affairs are none of yourbusiness." He closed his eyes and turned away, shutting her off assurely as if he had slammed a door between them.

Her cheeks burned. Count to ten, Nellie. She did. "I apologize forintruding on your affairs, monsieur," she said quietly. "I will notdo it again." She glanced at Wilkie, who shrugged and composedhimself for sleep as well, now that his chief reason for riding wasincommunicado.

The oxen were slow, but they traveled at least twice as far thatday as they could have on foot. When dusk came— that time

when she began to feel uneasy, despite the presence of the othermen and the bailiff and his two riders— they stopped at a villagenot far from Torquemada. "I am going now to Baltanas," he toldher in Spanish, naming a village to the east. "I know that youwish to stay on the road to Valladolid." Jesse helped her from thewagon, and she thanked the bailiff for his assistance.

They stood in the plaza, attracting a small crowd. She stood closeto Jesse. No one looked particularly angry, but she could see nowelcome, either. "I think they just wish we would all go away,"she whispered.

"I have been feeling that for two or three years now," Jessewhispered back. He took her arm formally in his. "Come, mydear. There is the church. That is always the place to begin inSpain."

The priest stood at the door of his sanctuary, from the look on hisface no less wary than his parishioners. "Here I go." Elinore said,and released her hold on her husband. With enthusiasm she didnot feel, she introduced them, and invited the priest to summonhis parish in the morning for sick call. In exchange for theservices of the Royal Army's Medical Corps, their only requestwas a meal, a place to spend the night, and perhaps some food inthe morning.

When she finished, the priest invited them inside to share hisevening meal of lentil soup, bread, and a small sausage shavedthin so all could have a taste. Another poor village, she thought.How they must dread it when even a remnant of the British armyshows up like hungry relatives. She knew that Jesse suffered thesame thoughts, from the way he refused seconds, even thoughshe knew he must be hungry.

Through her, the priest asked Jesse if he could visit an old fellowthat night who was troubled with boils. "He could wait formorning, senora—please tell your husband that—but I fear it

would be like the crippled man at the Pool of Siloam. Otherswould rush in front, and he will never see the physician."

The priest shook his head when she offered to interpret. "We willmanage," he assured her. "He has lived alone for years, andpretty ladies only frighten him."

Harper insisted on accompanying the two men. Her cloak tightaround her, she stood on the church steps until the chill drove herinside. Wilkie had spread out his bedroll and wrapped himself init. In a few moments, he was snoring. She wished there was aspot with some warmth in the sanctuary, but there was none. Shespread out their two blankets and sat down, hoping the cold fromthe stones would not seep into her dress.

"Mrs. Randall, may I join you?"

She looked up in surprise at the Frenchman, who had said nothingmore to her all afternoon. She had almost forgotten he was eventhere. "Yes, certainly," she said, knowing that she did not wanthim there and not relishing another rebuff.

She could not tell if he had something to say to her, or if he wasjust feeling the solitude of the building. The priest had left themwith no lights, and the gloom seemed to seep up the walls alongwith the cold. The only light came from two rows of candlesburning in an alcove closer to the altar. He was hardly more thana dark shape beside her.

"Madame, I am Armand Leger," he began.

"Yes, I know," she replied, faintly amused, when he paused.

"The name means nothing to you?"

She shook her head, embarrassed at this example of her paltryeducation.

"I did not think fame was that fleeting," he said, and he didnothing to disguise his condescension.

She felt a little spark burn inside her. "Monsieur, if you havechosen to humiliate me further, now that my husband is absent, Iwish you would not. I am well aware of my own lack ofaccomplishments," she replied, her voice quiet.

"No, no," he said quickly. He was silent a moment. "Perhaps I donot know how to speak to anyone anymore." Another pause then,"I want you to know this: I need to get to the British linesbecause I have no regard for my own people anymore."

She knew her surprise must have registered on her face, even inthe gathering gloom. He made a gesture with his hand. "Leger isonly one of my names. I used to consort with kings, MadameRandall."

"Oh, my."

"I am a relative of the Marquis de Lafayette. You have heard ofhim? Pardon, madame, but I am being rude again."

"Well, you are French," she said, not willing to let him get awaywith that. She was rewarded with a laugh.

"We were cousins, and we frequented the same clubs. I liked theequality he brought back with him from the new United States ofAmerica. He and I were the chief engineers who guided theDeclaration of Rights through the National Assembly in thesummer of 1789." He leaned back against the wall. "I do notthink there was a finer place to be than Paris, in that summer," hesaid simply. "The world was ours, and there was a future foreveryone, and not just the aristos."

"And then it all changed, did it not?" she asked. "If you areroyalty yourself, monsieur, how did you survive the Terror?Wasn't Lafayette imprisoned?"

"Madame, your education is not so piecemeal as you think!Indeed he was. I was safe enough in your own country as arepresentative of Louis Capet's government, at least, his

government before it turned on him. I thought it prudent to waitout the Terror in London. I prefer my head upon my neck."

She looked at him, and he must have interpreted the look."Madame, I am not a very brave man."

"You left family, didn't you?" It was only a hunch.

Elinore sucked in her breath when he leaped to his feet andstrode out the door of the church. She followed him, beratingherself for her unkindness. "Oh, please, sir, I did not mean toupset you," she said.

He said nothing for a time, then sat down and patted the stepbeside him. She gathered her cloak tight and sat down. Elinore,be kind enough to not butt into his thoughts, she told herself.

"My wife Amalie and daughters were forced to keep anappointment with Dr. Guillotine in La Place de la Concorde," hesaid finally, and there was nothing in his voice of arrogance ordisdain now. "I am told that Amalie's last words before theystrapped her to the board was to curse my cowardice."

Elinore could think of nothing to say. She put her hand on his armand inched a little closer. He did not pull away, and gradually shefelt the tension lessen in his arm.

He cleared his throat and sighed. "I returned to France only afterthe Directoire was formed, and do you know, I was hailed by thatwicked threesome as a great old warrior, a living testament to therevolution." His laugh was bitter and made her shiver. "Theyhauled me out for formal occasions like an icon. No wonder! Allthe other old revolutionaries were dead, cannibalized by theJacobins and Girondists when they turned on each other, andthemselves."

After a long pause during which she watched the sun set, heturned to her. "I have probably intimidated you into not askingthe question that I know must be on your mind: Why am I sitting

here in a poor church in a poor town, in a wretched country?"

"The thought did cross my mind," she murmured.

"How are your arithmetical skills, my dear?" he asked.

"Probably no better than my history," she admitted.

"You are wise in ways I am not," he said. "In the Di-rectoire,there were three, and then there was one."

"Napoleon."

"Precisely. Something changed for me when he began hisrampage through Europe." Leger took her hand between his own."I could no longer lull myself with the fiction that he felt muchconcern for the aims of the revolution. The Declaration ofRights? Bah! In his own way, he is no better than the kings hesupplanted." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it."Madame Randall, you are only a few years younger than myCharlotte and Eugenie, and their innocent blood cries out to me."

"Monsieur," she began, and could not continue.

He did not release her hand, but he turned slightly on the steps sothat he was facing her. "Do you know my only consolation?" Hegripped her hand tighter. "I learned from others present that dayin the Place de la Concorde that Amalie died first. It is my onlyconsolation to know that she did not have to see the terror andhear the screams of our little ones who followed her. Who wentfirst? Were they bound together? Their necks were so small.Think of the economy."

"Stop, please!" she begged him. "Oh, stop!" She threw her armsaround him, holding him to her. As he cried into her hair, shewondered how many times he had conjured up that nightmare inLa Place de la Concorde. She wondered if he ever closed his eyeswithout seeing his family so alone in the middle of thousands.And I am hurt because he is rude? she asked herself. God forgive

me.

He released her finally and sat with his hands clasped together.She rested her hand on his back. "Napoleon would like nothingbetter than to display me in Paris. It is people like me—the oldwarriors from '89—who give him any legitimacy, and I refuse."

"Why Spain, then?" she asked.

He shrugged. "We have already established that I am a coward. Itseems that I have no sense of timing, madame. I waited too longin Paris. It was impossible to sail from Calais, once the Britishbegan their blockade. Where could I run to in Europe? Napoleonowns it all. I came south because I am a cousin of Ferdinand, thatpathetic Bourbon who sat on the Spanish throne, and then whatdoes Napoleon do but move on Spain as well? And who wouldhave thought the Spanish would rise in revolt? Make no mistake,madame: You are looking at fortune's fool."

No, I am looking at a man who is desperately unhappy, shethought. Someone who is still arrogant enough to think he canbear the sins of the world. God forgive him. She leaned againsthis arm. She felt him draw a quavering breath, and closed hereyes, knowing that he was thinking of his little daughters. "Whydid you tell me this?" she asked. "Was it because of Charlotteand Eugenie?"

"Yes." Another sigh. "I confess that when I saw you and yoursurgeon, who so obviously adores you, I was jealous, becauseyou have what my darlings do not. I wanted you to know, so youwould be reminded how much you have. Don't take it forgranted."

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. "Oh, monsieur,you must be mistaken. We have been married but three days, andhe married me out of charity." It was her turn. The wordstumbled out as she told him about her silly parents, the debt,Major Bones, Captain Randall's impulsive proposal, the horrible

death of the Chief, brought on because of her ramshackle family,and their retreat, unprotected by the army. "Jesse tells me not toblame myself, but I cannot imagine that he would want tocontinue his protection of me once we are safe behind the lines."He was holding her hand this time. "If it is love, sir, it is love onvery short notice," she said.

He laughed softly, and she was relieved at the sound, because ittold her that at least he was not thinking—-if only for a moment—of Charlotte and Eugenie. "I think you are mistaken, MadameRandall," he said finally.

"I don't see how it could be any other way."

"My dear, through the years I have become a great observer. If Icannot explain human nature without exposing my ownhypocrisy, I can at least watch it. I have been observing yourhusband. Are you aware of how often he looks at you?"

"Well ... no ... I ... Oh, monsieur, he is concerned for all of us!"

"Or how often you look at him?"

She could think of nothing to say. Leger released her hand andstood up to stretch. "I am finally too old to sit on cold churchsteps, even with a charming lady. Good night, my dear. Do thinkabout what I said concerning the redoubtable Captain Randall.And the rest? Take this lesson: We know not what burdens othersbear, do we?"

No, we do not, she thought. She was still sitting on the step whenher husband returned with the priest. He sank down onto the stepbeside her. The priest touched his shoulder, and went inside. "Ihad an interesting experience," he said finally.

You did? she wanted to ask. I am beginning to wonder lately ifSpain has anything but interesting experiences. "Whathappened?" she asked instead.

"We saw the old man. He has numerous bed sores. I only hadwater and soap, but I cleaned them and showed the priest what todo." He made a face. "He had been applying a local remedycontaining sheep dung. Imagine! I couldn't help but wish for alittle permanganate of potassium, but soap and water still trumpsheep dung." He looked across the plaza. "I wonder what coulddrag Spain into the nineteenth century."

"A miracle?"

He laughed, and tucked her arm through his. "At least! Elinore,while I was cleaning the sores, the priest cooked a little parchedcorn for him. You won't believe this, but when it was coolenough, the priest chewed a bite, then put it in the old fellow'smouth! He's quite toothless, and relies on the priest to chew hisfood for him." He patted her hand. "At first it disgusted me, andthen I began to wonder if I could ever be as kind as that priest, oras humble as his parishioner. Forgive the pun, but it's food forthought."

How is it that such kindness and such cruelty exist side by side inthis world? Elinore asked herself. She leaned against her husband,and closed her eyes when she felt his lips on her hair. I shouldn'tbe feeling as good as I do, considering everything. "Let me tellyou what I learned tonight from Monsieur Leger," she began.

She told Jesse everything except what the Frenchman had saidabout him. "We'll have to do all we can to get him to the border,won't we?" he said when she finished. She could tell by the wayhis arm had tightened around her that he was affected by thestory.

"I'm not so certain that is what he really needs."

"He probably needs absolution worse than most of us," Jesse saidfrankly. He shook his head. "But who am I to say what will makea man's heart right? I try to heal bodies, don't I?"

"You do it well."

"It's just puny medicine, Elinore. Up you get." He pulled her toher feet, and kept his hold on her hand as they went inside thechurch. He stopped, and she held her breath as he dipped hisfingers in the holy water at the door and crossed himself,something she had never seen him do. "You know, I hope thatsomeday there is room in medicine for physicians of the mind andheart." He laughed, and it sounded self-conscious to her ears. "Alunatic idea, eh? No one ever said you were married to a rationalman, Elinore Randall."

She thought he would come to bed, but he didn't. When shefinally closed her eyes, he was standing by the altar, thenkneeling by the row of candles, which gleamed a little brighter.

Chapter TwelveThe next day was like the one that preceded it, and so on througha week of rain. Each day had its differences, and they stuck outlike little jewels against the dark wool of long hours of walking,

and hunger. At every sick call in every scabby village, Jesseknew the gratitude that comes to a surgeon who does so little thatseems so much to those who have even less. The only pay they

could ask for was food, but it was in scarce supply.

None of them took much when it was offered, but it broke hisheart to watch Elinore scarcely able to chew a slice of breadbecause of young ones who watched her every swallow. Morethan once she had given up, and handed out the bread to one ofthem, protesting that she was full. When he tried to remonstratewith her in private, she only cried. What could he say? They wereall doing the same thing, even Wilkie, who found excuses for

handing out the sausage he carried. "Captain, it's just too heavy,"he said at one stop, and gave him such a look that Jesse knewbetter than to comment, even if he was the officer, and accordingto a piece of paper, the gentleman among them.

He was able to take his consolation in the little good he did. Heknew it was his skill that kept them moving, and it gave him hugesatisfaction to provide, even in such puny measure, for those hewas coming to love. He already knew he loved Elinore, but theothers began to work their way into his heart in ways he had notexpected. He knew he was a man of compassion, but like othersof his class and station, he knew the chasm that separatedofficers from soldiers. As the days passed, he began to see themas men.

One thing troubled him. He continued to hear riders at night, notevery night, but now and then, as though someone watched, butdid not appear too concerned that they would suddenlydisappear. No one else seemed to be aware of them, which madehim wonder if his hearing was more acute than anyone else's or ifhis mind was starting to wander. He wanted to saying somethingto Elinore again, but decided against it. They had enough toworry about without tackling his overworked imagination.

Wilkie was his greatest surprise on the retreat. One night theycame to a village so poor there was no church. He found thealcalde and Elinore made the usual offer of medical help in themorning in exchange for food and lodging. He could tell it painedthe alcalde to say there was no food, and unlike in other villagesused to hoarding and hiding, Jesse believed him. Lodging then,Elinore had asked. Again the alcalde shook his head. Jessewinced at his embarrassment and what years of war had done tothe village. There was no food, no lodging, no hope, only the wishthat enemy and ally alike would vanish.

After smiling at the alcalde to indicate no harm done and nooffense taken, Jesse took Elinore's hand and turned toward the

road again. Wilkie began to sing a tune full of home and longing.Jesse had heard the tune before, and he knew it was from Devon,something about watching the water for sailors overdue. Hegathered his wife close to him and let the wistfulness and powercover them both like a warm blanket. He could only thank thesaint who protected wanderers—whoever that was-—for thisglimpse into another man's heart that was as sound as his own.

Harper's worth he already knew, and finally admitted it to himselfthe afternoon when Elinore, exhausted by struggling through mudand confined by skirts that made the effort so difficult, simply fellto her knees and stayed there. It killed his heart to see her, but hewas already carrying his medical satchel, and David Sheffield's.He hurried to her side to raise her up, but Harper beat him there.In one motion he picked her up and kept walking. Elinore criedand protested, but Harper only turned to look at him and grinned."I didn't think she weighed very much, sir," he said and keptwalking.

He knew he would not understand Armand Leger. TheFrenchman continued to watch them all, saying little, but carryinghis share of the load, and then Elinore's, when she faltered. Hedid not join in their chat, but at least he no longer regarded themwith that irritating superior air that had characterized the earlydays of their acquaintance.

A few days later, he had his first argument with Elinore. Upon thegreater reflection that time and travel by foot allowed him, he diddebate whether it was an argument. All he knew for sure was thathe lost, to his ultimate relief.

They had come to a more prosperous village, and the rainstopped long enough to allow them to wash the mud from theirclothes, and even set up a small clinic in an empty house. Theyhad spent a comfortable night. The two-room house had nowindows, but the roof was sound, and that was an almostundreamed-of luxury. He had the satisfaction of setting a fracture

for a butcher's apprentice that earned them a sausage.

An old woman came into the house lugging a wooden case thathe recognized the moment she came through the door. He hurriedto her side, and he lifted the box onto the table. He knew whatwas inside. "Elinore, would you look," he said, touching thebottles with their Latin labels and familiar contents. "Persulphateof iron, quinine sul-phatis, iodide of potassium, oh, and tinctureof opium. My goodness."

He understood most of what the woman was telling him, butElinore filled in the gaps. "Her husband was the town's physician.He died last year. She wonders if you wanted to buy thesemedicines."

With what? he thought, his delight turning to despair. He took alast look at the bottles and closed the box. "Ask her if she willtake brass uniform buttons," he told Elinore. "Tell her I amsingularly lacking in funds." He tried to make a joke when he sawthe sadness on Elinore's face. "Ask her if she will take a draft onthe Bank of England."

"You're not so far gone," Elinore said. She tugged at her collarand pulled out her mother's gold necklace that he had saved fromCaptain Mason. In a moment she opened the clasp and held outthe necklace to the old woman.

"I won't let you do that," he said, and took it from her.

Elinore turned on him with a fury he didn't know she possessed."Isn't what is mine yours now? Aren't we married? Weren't youlistening?"

"Elinore, this is all you have left from your mother!" he said,raising his voice.

"It's a necklace, Jesse," she replied, her voice steely calm. "Thinkwhat good you can do with it." She faltered a moment, then methis gaze with one as determined as his own. "And didn't you

promise the chaplain you would do what I said?"

"You know he was quizzing us!" he replied in exasperation.

"I don't know any such thing," she told him, her voice kindernow, more subdued, as though she knew she had oversteppedsome boundary, but did not wish to back down. She took thenecklace, and he made no more protest when she handed it to thewoman.

In tight-lipped silence—he didn't know who he was angry at, buthe didn't think it was Elinore—Jesse replaced the empty bottlesin his medical case with the partly filled remnants from theSpanish physician's box. He wanted to take them all, but he tookthe most useful, because he didn't think he was strong enough tocarry all the bottles now.

They walked in silence for a mile or two, shoulders touching nowand then, but separated by what he knew was a combination ofpride and shyness. Medicine is easier than this, Hippocrates, hethought, then redefined his statement when Elinore glanced athim sideways with a little smile in her beautiful eyes.

"Don't be angry with me," Elinore said, breaking the silence.

"I'm not," he told her. "I'm just frustrated that I have a littlefortune sitting in a bank in England, and cannot do a thing withit."

She could have said all kinds of things then, but she chose totease him. "Oh, does this mean I have married a wealthy man?"

Something about what she said, maybe it was her oddly merryrejection of his money, humbled him. Here was someone whohad spent her young life with less than nothing so long that itdidn't seem to bother her. I doubt she even believes me, hethought. What fun it will be someday—if we live to the border—to prove her so wrong.

He could see no regret on her expressive face. I wonder what youwill do, my darling, when I dig a diamond necklace out of thefamily vault in Dundee? he thought. He could hardly wait to findout.

Elinore remained vaguely out of charity with him for that day'smarch, still miffed that he would think to question her exchangeof a necklace for medicine. He didn't mind, because he knewthere was time to make amends. And that, beyond his epiphanyabout friendship forged by hardship, was his greatest gift on theretreat: time.

As hungry as he was, as wretched, and as worried about NumberEight, he realized that Major Bones—damn him to perdition, yes—had unwittingly provided him with time. Yes, winter was fastapproaching; yes, they feared every day to meet with the French;and yes, he knew they were hurrying as fast as they could to thePortuguese border— all this paled under the reality that he hadno patients to tend in the night, and no major cases to fret overand relive again and again, once they left each village in themorning. He could march along with his wife and comrades, nolonger tyrannized by medicine. How odd it was that the thing heenjoyed the most could so dictate his life until his life was not hisown. Was this something he had allowed to happen, or was it partof his medical calling? He knew he wanted to talk with Elinoreabout this curious phenomenon, but he watched her struggle andgrow weary, and knew this was not the time to crow about hisown independence. He decided finally that only another surgeoncould fully appreciate the contradictory situation, and kept hisown counsel.

They came to Tordesillas, having skirted Valladolid on Leger'sadvice, who reminded them that the French had many allies inthat fickle city. He could tell that Harper wanted to argue withhim, but Jesse decided to believe the Frenchman. He could tellfrom Elinore's approving glance that she seconded his decision.

Leger seldom spoke to anyone except Elinore, and her approvaltold him that he had not erred.

They avoided Valladolid and came to Tordesillas, famous for itsarrogant treaty between the Peninsular rulers in 1494 that dividedthe little-known hemispheres beyond the horizon into fiefs ofSpain and Portugal. The rain, which had held off for a few days,thundered down again, but he could see the royal tower—theproperty years ago of Isabel of Castile—where the treaty wassigned. From the march to Burgos in the summer, he rememberedother castles—some ruined, some not—in the vicinity.

For Elinore's sake he wanted shelter more than usual. She hadcome to him red-faced and head down earlier in the afternoon totell him that she had begun her monthly flow and could hardlywalk from the cramps. She also asked if she could dig into theirprecious store of bandages. He gave his immediate consent, andsent her into the bushes to make the best effort she could, all thewhile wishing she could take care of the detail of her woman'slife and then lie down with a warm bottle of water at her feet.

Naturally she said nothing to the others, but when she came outof the bushes, Harper had already attached her satchel andmedical bag to his own load. Jesse held his breath, but Elinorewas too weary to argue, and too uncomfortable. He took herhand, and they walked into Tordesil-las in the rain.

Number Eight had a stroke of luck at the church, a massivestructure shabby-grand in that way of buildings constructedduring Spain's Golden Age of conquistadors and wealth from theIndies, and then ignored for a few centuries as Spain declined.

There were no benches in the sanctuary, but Elinore sankgratefully to the floor and drew her knees up tight against herchest. He touched her head. "I hate to ask it, but I need you totranslate," he reminded her. He helped her to her feet.

The priest stood close to the altar, arguing with a well-dressed

man who leaned on a cane. They came closer, uncertain. Eventhough his Spanish was still limited, Jesse could not detect muchanimosity between the men. Rather, the words had a rehearsedquality to them, as though this was not the first exchange on thesame subject. He glanced at Elinore, whose puzzled expressionmirrored his.

The man with the cane broke off the discussion first, turning intheir direction, then executing a most elegant bow. "Damaelegante" he began.

To Jesse's amusement, Elinore looked behind her in surprise."What, my dear, aren't you elegant enough in your mud?" heinterrupted, teasing her in a low voice.

"Silence, you!" the man ordered in English. "Obviously you donot appreciate the beauty beside you." He addressed himself toElinore. "Please tell me that this wretched man is not yourhusband."

Elinore laughed. "Oh, I wish I could," she said, her eyes merry,despite her exhaustion. "Senor, your English is impeccable."

The man bowed again while the priest growled something low inhis throat that Jesse strained to hear. "Dama, I am el Conde deAlmanzor y Talavera, at your service." He put his fingers to hislips, shut his eyes in something close to ecstasy, and kissed them."I have never seen a more beautiful lady."

"Thank you," Elinore said, and looked at Jesse for help. Heshrugged. She collected herself and remembered her purpose."Father, we were left behind in General Sir Arthur Wellesley'sretreat from Burgos and are on our way to Portugal. My husbandhere is a surgeon. If you will find us food and lodging tonight, hewill be happy to hold a clinic for your town in the morning."

"We have a physician here in Tordesillas," the priest said in atone that while not unkind, dismissed them.

"May we at least stay here for the night, out of the rain? Ask himthat, Elinore."

Before she could reply, the count swung his cane at the priest,who stepped back nimbly, as though expecting the assault. "Ibelieve you are demented!" the priest exclaimed. He jabbed hisfinger in the air in frustration, then left his own sanctuary.

We must have landed in the lunatic asylum, Jesse thought. "Let'sgo, Elinore, before el conde here decides to take a swing at us."He took her hand.

"Oh, no, no, no," the count exclaimed. "I would never do such athing." He glared at the departing priest's back. "Never was atown blessed with such a bundle of debris in a black sack! Nowonder no one has faith anymore." He came closer to Jesse. "Ithink he is an afrancesado, as well. You cannot trust him."

"Then we should be on our way at once. Elinore, we dare notstay here."

"Senor, I would offer you the hospitality of Almanzor yTalavera," the count said, before she could speak. "I cannot haveyou thinking that Tordesillas is inhospitable."

"We have no money," Jesse said.

The count clapped his hands in exasperation, and looked atElinore. "Is your husband the most stubborn man in the Britisharmy?"

"I ... I'm not really sure," Elinore replied, thrown off guard. "Butsee you here, sir, he will be glad to administer any medicaltreatment that you or your servants might require."

"We are all in famous health, my dear lovely," the count replied."I ask just one thing of you . . . Captain, is it?"

"Yes. Captain Randall," Jesse said, hoping he did not sound asskeptical as he felt.

"I would like to paint your beautiful wife."

"What?" he exclaimed. "Surely you are not serious?"

"You do not think she is beautiful?" the count asked, his eyeswide.

"Count, she is the personification of loveliness," Jesse said, andhe felt his face turning red when Harper and Wilkie started tolaugh. "But, Count, you will allow me to say that in her presentstate, my beautiful wife"—he emphasized my; he couldn't helphimself, not with the way the count was looking at her—"coulduse a bath and a clean dress, and even more than that, a place tosleep."

"Come with me, then, all of you," Conde Almanzor said, drawinghis cape around him with a flourish. "You will be my guests."

There seemed to be no point in arguing with the man, and Jessefelt no inclination to do so, not after another glance at Elinore'sdrawn face, and the way Wilkie's shoulders slumped. "Let'sfollow him," he said. "It can't be any worse than a night in therain."

They followed the count, who had appropriated Elinore andtucked her arm in his, through a side door to a coach that wasprobably new when the Bourbons came to power a centuryearlier. There was room for all inside. Only after a pointed look atthe count was Jesse able to wrest Elinore away to sit beside him."Proprietary, wouldn't you say?" he whispered to her while thecount occupied himself with seating everyone.

"I can overlook almost anything in a man who doesn't mind mewith ten pounds of mud on my shoes and who promises a realbed," she whispered back.

He shuddered elaborately and pulled her closer. "You are a fastpiece, Mrs. Randall," he teased. "Too bad I am finding this outnow, after I made all kinds of extravagant promises at Burgos."

He looked at her. The count was absolutely right; she wasbeautiful, even with rain on her face and her eyes so tired.

Although it was a short ride, she was asleep before they reachedthe count's estate, her head gentle against his shoulder. Hecouldn't really tell in the rain and gathering darkness, but itseemed they crossed a moat. He even thought he heard thedrawbridge clanking and grinding upright when they werethrough. He looked at Harper, who shook his head. Leger onlystared out the window. Wilkie was gazing at him with such anexpression of trust that Jesse felt uneasy.

He told himself that although the count appeared a trifleeccentric, they had nothing to fear. The two retainers waiting bythe stone entrance were as antique as the coachman, and evenmore deferential. Elinore will have a good night's sleep, he toldhimself, as the count indicated she should follow a woman heidentified as his housekeeper. Elinore looked back at him once,and he wanted to follow her, except that the count was usheringthem into the hall.

"I wish to know where that woman is taking my wife," he said tothe count.

"She will tend to her every need and provide her with the bestfood we have to offer here in Almanzor," the count said. "I willdo the same for you. Follow me, sirs."

Every instinct told him no, but he saw the hunger on his men'sfaces, even as they seemed to mirror the wariness he knew wason his own. He wavered, disgusted with his own indecision andeven, for the tiniest moment, cursing David Sheffield for dyingand leaving him with the responsibility of Marching HospitalNumber Eight. "Very well," he agreed reluctantly. "You will takeme to her later, will you not?"

Almanzor patted his shoulder. "Why don't we let her have apeaceful night's sleep for once, Captain? Surely your needs can

wait. You can see her in the morning. Do follow me. I know,strictly speaking, that this is not sherry country—our soil is toowet—but I think I have a brandy that will surprise you."

He led them into a hall, and then through a series of rooms thatmade him wish for a long ball of twine, or at least the genius of aTheseus in the maze of the minotaur. Harper and Wilkiewhispered together. They stopped finally at the door of a roomthat seemed like all the others. The count stood aside andmotioned them inside. The pride on his face gave Jesse his firstmoment of relief. "Gentlemen, please accept the hospitality ofAlmanzor," he said.

Harper's sigh was so deeply felt that Jesse could almost hear itresonate up from the stone floor. They were in a dining hall ofsuch enormous size that Jesse wondered if whole Crusades hadleft from this place. Anything's possible, he thought as he lookedaround. After looking at row upon row of dusty bannersoverhead, some of them with Arabic writing, he saw the longtable at the hall's end. With no further encouragement from thecount, they all moved toward it. A great silver epergne stood atthe table's center, but the attraction were the silver platters thatflanked it. He could not remember when he had seen so muchfood.

Or so it seemed. The count who had followed them in gesturedtoward it gracefully and bowed. "Be my guests, gentlemen. Pray,do not hang back."

It was all Jesse could do not to sprint to the table and begingobbling food from the nearest platter. He reached the table andstared at it in surprise and growing consternation. "What on earth. . ." he said, and stepped back.

What lay on the table may have been well-prepared dishes at onetime, but that was a long time ago. Deeply tarnished bowls heldfruit so shriveled that he could not tell apple from plum. What

must have once been a roasted suckling pig was now an emptysack of bones from which emanated what he could onlycharitably call a musty aroma. Dried loaves of bread shriveled insilver baskets next to cheese curled and moldy. If there wasbrandy in the bottles on the table, only sediment the color ofslush remained. He turned to see Armand Leger standing besidehim, his face drained of all color.

"Mon dieu, monsieur. We are in a madman's house," theFrenchman said.

Chapter ThirteenThink, Jesse, think, he commanded himself as he swallowed the

panic that rose in his throat like bile. He stared at the foodanother moment, then turned around to see Harper right behind

him.

"Captain, I can kill him in a second," the private whispered.

"No," Jesse whispered back, putting out his hand. "We don'tknow where Elinore is. Let me try this." He took a deep breath.Forcing himself to smile, he walked back to his host, who stoodby the nearest table. "Count, your hospitality is nearlyoverwhelming, but I think the food has been on the table a fewdays too long."

The count shook his head, as though admonishing a fractiouschild. "Captain, I had no idea the British army was so particular!Last summer some of Marshal Marmont's troops stopped here,and they were much more accommodating."

I wonder under what stones you have buried them, Jesse thought,not daring to look at Harper, who was standing right beside him

now. "Actually, Count, we're so cold from marching in rain allday, that I was wondering—as a special favor to me—if youwould bring us some soup instead. We can tackle this feasttomorrow night, eh?"

The count clapped his hands together. "What an excellentnotion!" He put his hand on Jesse's arm, and Jesse tried not tostare at the length and color of his fingernails. "My wife wouldcall me remiss." He clapped his hands until an antiquated servantshuffled into the dining hall. "Pablo, bring some soup and breadfor this army."

Keep him talking, Jesse thought. "Your wife? When may we begraced with her presence, Count?"

"Alas, she is quite ill, and could never visit."

"Count, I am a surgeon," he reminded the man. "I would bepleased to tend to her. It is the least we can do to repay yourmagnificent hospitality." Top that, you old bastard.

The count shook his head. "She is too ill even for you, I fear." Heclacked yellow nails against yellow teeth, and Jesse shuddered."That was why I was visiting that shabby excuse of a priest. I tellhim she needs Extreme Unction, but he never listens."

"Last Rites? My God, Count, let me see her!" Jesse insisted."Surely I can make her more comfortable."

"I doubt you can make her more comfortable," the count replied,laughing as though enjoying a huge joke. "You may see her in themorning. She will keep."

I am not even going to think about that last remark, Jesse toldhimself. "I would like to see her."

"Then I will oblige you," the count replied with a deep bow. "Andnow, I will see to your dinner. Please make yourselvescomfortable until I return."

After the count left the room, humming to himself, they stared ateach other. "We have wandered into a mess," Leger said at last.

"How right you are," Jesse replied. A mob of thoughts careenedabout inside his brain, like balls pinging around a billiard table. "Idon't know what to do, but I do know this: we had better doeverything in our power to stay together tonight."

"And tomorrow?"

"Who knows? I think we will have to act very quickly." Helooked around. "I haven't seen many servants, and the ones wehave seen are as old as he is."

"You don't need to be young to poison food," Leger observed."Or fire a pistol."

"No, you don't," Jesse agreed. "Let us insist that the count join usfor soup."

They waited silently, standing in a miserable little circle. Jesseached to know where Elinore was, and if she was being welltreated. What have I gotten us into, he asked himself.

"We'll find her tomorrow, Chief."

He looked up to see Harper regarding him with a lookdangerously close to affection. He called me Chief, Jesse thought.My goodness. I had better prove myself worthy of that honorific.

Dinner turned out to be surprisingly normal. The count returnedwith a large bowl of barley stew. Jesse couldn't readily identifythe meat, and warned himself not to think too long about MarshalMarmont's troopers of last summer. They all watched the countdip from the bowl, take a few bites, pronounce the stew good,and gesture to them to follow his example. No one needed furtherurging. The meat turned out to be sausage.

The count was the perfect host, content to pass the basket ofcrusty bread, and see that everyone had a generous slice of

cheese to float on top of the soup. He mourned that such acommon meal had to be served at any dinner hosted by anAlmanzor, but these were difficult, perilous times. "I trust youwill overlook my poor hospitality, Captain," he said, pushingaway his empty bowl at last.

"On the contrary, Count, your food is excellent, and you areshowing us every possible attention," he said. He thought amoment. What can I possibly lose by not venturing, he askedhimself. "Count, considering these difficult times, I understand ifyou did not wish to trouble yourself with painting my wife. Wecan return some other time."

"It is no trouble to me, Captain, none at all!" the count replied.He looked around at them all, his eyes bright. "I wasn't planningto paint her myself, you see. Tonight I am going to address aletter to Senor Francisco Goya in Madrid. He should have it in afew weeks, and if he has time in a month or so, he will be here topaint the senora."

Jesse stared at the count. "Perhaps you do not understand, Count,but we are probably being followed by the French, and mustcontinue our retreat tomorrow."

"You may leave her with me, Captain."

Never, he wanted to shout, then leap up and wring the man'sscrawny neck. After a warning look at Harper and Wilkie, heforced himself to sit back in his chair. "I would miss her too muchfor that, Count. Perhaps you could make arrangements with Goya—I certainly appreciate that you have chosen him, of all painters—to come here in the spring when we return with Wellington'sarmy."

The count shook his head sadly. "It cannot be, Captain. She hasto remain here."

Jesse could think of nothing to say in the face of such calm

assurance. From his medical school days, he knew that arguingwith a lunatic was akin to attempting to reason with atwo-year-old. "This is certainly an honor for the Randalls,Count," he said finally.

The Spaniard beamed at him. "I am so glad you agree!" Helooked around. "On the whole, you are much easier to deal withthan Marmont's soldiers. You never heard such complaint when I... Oh, never mind. It is time I showed you to your chambers."

Jesse didn't have to look at his soldiers to sense their alarm. "Ihave a request, Count. Please let us stay in the same room. We'rerather used to each other by now."

"I wouldn't dream of it!" the count declared. "Soldiers andgentlemen together!" He touched Jesse's arm, and Jesse tried notto wince when he thought of those fingernails. "We have neverbeen so egalitarian here in Spain, sir!"

"Then I insist that you quarter them in a room right next toArmand and me," Jesse said, trying to sound firm when hisinsides were in turmoil. "They are my men, and I will be incharge of them."

Was that too much? Was it enough? he asked himself in agony asthe count regarded him out of narrowed eyes. He returned thecount's stare, his eyes not wavering, all the while wondering ifstaring at a madman was as provocative as staring at a strangedog. "I insist," he said, his voice quiet.

To his relief, the count removed his hand and lowered his eyeswith a self-conscious laugh. "How silly! I will do as you say,because I love the English so well."

"Walk next to him, Armand," he whispered to the Frenchman. "Ineed a word with my men."

Without a blink or hesitation, Armand stood next to the count,bowed elaborately, and extended his arm. Jesse hung back, and

Harper and Wilkie walked slowly beside him from the dining hall."When you get in your room, barricade the door with anythingyou can find. You had better take turns standing guard. I'm goingto try to see Elinore."

"What are you going to do, Chief?" Harper whispered.

"I have not a clue. Ah, Count, do tell us something about thesewonderful pictures here in your gallery!"

They were wonderful: a Velazquez here, an El Greco there. If hewasn't mistaken, a Tintoretto and at least two Titians languishedin a darker corner. He thought he recognized a Raphael carelesslyleaning against another painting on the floor. "Count, these aremagnificent," he said, and he meant it. "I will be honored to havemy darling Elinore painted by Goya and displayed in yourgallery."

The count beamed at him and blew him a kiss.

Here I go, Jesse thought. "Do let me look in on her tonight,Count. I'm sure she is enjoying the best of your hospitality, but Imiss her lovely face."

"Of course, Captain," the count said promptly. Jesse could havedropped to his knees in relief. "But first let us quarter your men."He laughed, and Jesse felt his scalp tingle. "But we won't drawthem, eh? Just quarter'um." He went off in a gale of laughter athis wit in English.

Jesse forced himself to laugh along. "Count, how clever you arewith English!" He leaned closer, trying not to cringe as his headtouched the count's. "You must be the wittiest man in Spain."And the most diabolical, he thought. Oh, Lord, take pity onstupid people tonight, please.

Both Harper and Wilkie were pale and subdued when theyreached a door. The count opened it, and ushered the two meninside. Jesse could see a large bed, and a fire burning. He glanced

at the barred windows, then looked away.

"Here you are, lads. Do have a pleasant night in your quarters,"the count said. He fumbled with the keys at his belt, tried several,and then locked the door. Jesse looked at Leger. The Frenchmanmanaged a small shrug.

"You and Senor Leger will be here," the count said, indicating theroom next door. They went inside, and Jesse noticed theirmedical satchels and other traveling kits lined against the wall."You are treating us so well, Count," he said with a bow.

"Anything for my allies." The count gestured grandly around him."The king of Portugal slept here in 1494 when he came to signthe Treaty of Tordesillas." He permitted himself a small gigglebehind his hand. "I can assure you the sheets have been changedat least once or twice since then!"

Jesse laughed, and Leger joined in. "You have a magnificent wit,"the Frenchman said. "Captain Randall, have you ever been soentertained?"

"Not within recent memory." He looked at the count with whathe hoped was a pleasant but firm expression. "And now, Count,please take me to my wife."

"Indeed," Almanzor said promptly, as though responding to acue. He locked Leger inside the room, and handed the lamp toJesse, after dismissing the old servant.

He was silent then, and Jesse was grateful. He concentrated oneach passageway, and every staircase, but with a sinking feelingfound himself hopelessly confused. The castle was a labyrinth,probably built this way on purpose centuries ago to fuddle anywarlord trying to conquer it. Well, I am fuddled, diddled andscotched, Hippocrates, he thought as they traversed yet anothercorridor, climbed yet another set of stairs, narrower now, andobviously in an older part of the sprawling building.

He forced himself to be calm. The last staircase spiraled up insidea narrow tower. His confidence returned, because he knew hecould find this structure again, provided he could get outside andwalk the grounds. When the count, wheezing now, stopped at theonly door and began the search for the key, he looked up andnoticed a trapdoor that must lead to the roof.

The chamber was circular and small, and lit only by a fire in abrazier. He could barely make out Elinore in the gloom, soundasleep in a bed with heavy curtains drawn back. I have wanderedinto a fairy tale, he thought in amazement. Here we are, living inmodern times, except for this castle in Spain. He went to the bedto see Elinore.

She stirred when he sat down beside her, but did not waken. Hetouched her hair, pleased to see that it was clean, and that shewore a simple nightgown. Beautiful lady, he thought, if I kiss you,will I break a spell, or make things worse? He kissed her cheek,then returned to the count. He bowed. "Count, you have takensuch wonderful care of Elinore. Could I not stay with hertonight?"

"Alas, no," the count replied, shaking his head. He shook a fingerat Jesse. "I think you are a naughty man. She doesn't wear awedding ring. Why should I believe that she is your wife?"

"Surely she said so."

"Oh, yes, yes, but who can believe a woman?"

You can believe this one, he thought as he looked at Elinore. Andtrust her with everything you own. "She doesn't lie, Count," hesaid, unable to disguise the emotion in his voice. "I trust you willallow me to see her again in the morning."

"Possibly. Come, come! Wouldn't you hate to wake a sleepingprincess?"

You, sir, are certifiable, he thought as he followed the count from

the room, down the winding stairway, and into the first of severalhalls. He had nothing to say to the old man, and pointedly ignoredhis chatter. He tried to remember where he had come, but gave itup for a bad business when he finally realized that the count wasreturning him to his quarters by a different route.

"You shouldn't sulk," the count told him when he unlocked thedoor. "Good night," he called out. "What is it you English say,'Good night, sleep tight'?"

Disgusted with himself, Jesse leaned against the door. To hisirritation, he looked toward. the bed to see Armand Leger smilingat him. "I do not understand why you think any of this isamusing," he snapped.

"Captain, I've never seen you so down pin before."

Startled, he looked closer into the gloom. "Private Harper?"

"At your service, Chief," Harper replied. His little army steppedfrom the shadows by the tapestry. "I never did find a lock Icouldn't pick, sir."

Jesse laughed. "And I don't supposed you ever tried to avoid one,either, eh? Thank goodness for that." He looked around. "Whereis Private Wilkie?"

"I expect him along any time now, sir. He followed you and thatold rip."

Jesse found the nearest stool and sat on it. "I didn't hear a thing."

" 'Course not, sir," Harper replied, his expression slightlyoffended. "Wilkie is an expert."

esse shook his head. "And here I was certain you two were themost useless soldiers in the entire army. What could I have beenthinking?"

Harper ducked his head modestly. "Gor, Chief, that's all right.

We'll let it go." He inclined his ear toward the door. "Here 'e isnow."

Jesse strained his ears. He heard nothing beyond a few scratchingnoises in the vicinity of the lock, and then Wilkie sidled throughthe barely open door. While Jesse stared in dumbfoundedamazement, he closed it quietly, fiddled with the lock less than aminute, then smiled. "We're locked in again now." He nodded toJesse. "Captain, I know right where she is."

"Amazing. Can you get her out in the morning?"

Wilkie shrugged. "Piece a'cake, one way or t'other. It's a differentlock, an older one, but well get her out."

Harper grinned at his companion and clapped an arm around hisshoulder. " 'E's not very humble, sir, but I like'um."

"You're both rascals and scoundrels and any self-respectingofficer worthy of a king's commission would slap you in irons themoment you reach the lines at Torres Vedres," Jesse said, bitingoff each word. He paused and considered the matter for the lasttime. "Thank God that you had the stupidity to cast your lot withme, instead! Men, I am in your debt," he concluded simply."What can I do now?"

Harper appeared to be considering the matter. "Begging yourpardon. Chief, but all I want in future is for you to not go losingMrs. Randall."

"Agreed. I promise not to let her out of my sight."

"Promise, sir?" Wilkie asked, grinning.

"Cross my heart, Private."

"That'll do then, Chief," Harper said generously. "Now I wantyou to get a good night's sleep. Wilkie and I have plans toextricate your wife."

"Uh, could I ask the nature of your strategy?"

Harper shook his head. Wilkie was already at the lock, opening itsilently. "Best not to know, sir." He followed Wilkie through thedoor, then stuck his head back in. "All you got to know is thatWilkie is also an expert at diversion."

"I will be involved in her rescue, won't I?" Jesse asked. "I insistupon that."

Harper beamed at him. "Chief, you'll be the hero!" He loweredhis voice. "I was nearly nabbed by parson's mousetrap once. Iknow them women love a hero. 'Night, sir."

He didn't know how he could sleep, but he did. When he woke,the sun was beginning to rise. He sat up in the bed and lookedtoward the window, where Leger sat, staring out at the morning.The Frenchman motioned him over and pointed out the window."I think your wife is a very resourceful woman," he said.

He joined Leger at the window. "I do believe you are right," heagreed. Elinore—it could only be Elinore—had hung a strip ofred cloth out the window at the top of a narrow tower. "I thinkwe can safely say she has no real interest in waiting a month ormore to be immortalized by Francisco Goya."

He heard the familiar scratching at the lock. In a moment Harperwas inside the room. He had coiled a sheet over his shoulder,which on closer inspection became a rope made of cloth stripsknotted together. He winked at Jesse. "I didn't learn this knot inthe army, but it's gotten me out of a few bedrooms, sir."

Jesse took him to the window. "Can it get Mrs. Randall out ofthat bedroom?"

"Clever'un, your lady, sir," Harper replied, after a long look."Let's do it better. You can get her out of that bedroom,Captain."

"Me?"

"You. Wilkie and I went back there this morning. He can't pickthat lock, but we have a better idea." He held up the jury-riggedrope. "You're not afraid of heights are you, Chief?"

Jesse gulped. "I suppose there is not a wrong answer to that one,is there?"

The plan was simple enough. Jesse arranged pillows in the bed toapproximate a human body. Leger agreed to spin a tale oflate-night woes, the surgeon's complete inca-pacitation, andCaptain Randall's burning urge to spend a few more hours in bedto recuperate. He also agreed to distract the count. "I could killhim, Jesse," Leger said.

"That's more distraction than he needs, monsieur," Jesse replied."I know he is at least three parts lunatic, but we are allies. Such adeed might cause repercussions we are unaware of now. Pleaseexcuse me now. Apparently Harper expects me to be a hero."

Jesse shouldered his medical satchel with the precious bottles andthe tools of his trade and urged Leger to throw the other satchelsout the window if he could. "We'll recon-noiter by thedrawbridge there. Do let us hope it remains down."

He hurried into the hall to find only Harper there. "I should warnyou that Wilkie does love a good diversion, sir."

"And I shouldn't ask, eh?"

The private grinned, and started to clap him on the back, butobviously thought better of it. "We had best hurry along."

They quietly traversed the halls, empty of servants. He wanted topause for one more look at the art in Conde Almanzor's gallery,but Harper nudged him when he slowed down. They ran downthe last corridor and took the spiral staircase two steps at abound. Harper didn't even glace at the door, but continued up the

ladder and banged open the trapdoor. Jesse eyed the ladderdubiously, but there was Harper above him now, reaching down.He handed up his medical satchel first, then followed it. To hissurprise, Harper was standing still on the roof, looking intentlytoward the wall. "Over there, sir. I told you Wilkie was awonder."

In the distance, smoke billowed from a stone building that lookedlike the stables. Harper gave a low, admiring whistle. "I thinkeven Wilkie exceeded his expectations, sir. Best blaze I've seensince the time he and I ... well, I'd best keep that to myself." Hemade a motion to kneel on the flat roof, then grimaced. "Lordlove us, Chief, I'd wager no one has swept off a pigeon droppingsince the Inquisition."

"A reasonable assessment, Private," Jesse said.

Harper knotted a loop in the sheet. "Come here, sir. Now you getto play hero."

"I was afraid you were going to say that, Harper," he replied, butheld up his arms while Harper dropped the loop under hisarmpits. "Now, you will hold tight?"

"You'll be safe as houses. Chief," Harper said. "Of course, it's agood thing you're a little fellow, if you'll pardon me."

Jesse looked down. Directly below him was a small balcony thathe knew opened on to Elinore's room. He had repelled down acliff at Ronda once to set a broken leg. After a moment'signominious swing, he found his feet and walked down the wallwhile Harper played out the sheet. He landed on the balcony, losthis balance, and fell into more pigeon droppings, but then Elinorethrew open the window, which caught him on the side of theface.

"Oh, I am sorry!" Elinore said as she pulled him in, then huggedhim.

Jesse hugged her back, then tried to brush the droppings off histrousers, only to discover that some were fresher than others. Hegrinned at her and held out his dripping hand. "Harper said thiswould make me a hero. D'ye think so?"

"Only if your wife were truly daffy, which I am not," she replied,belying her words by beaming at him. She handed him a towel.

"Captain Randall? Mrs. Randall?"

Elinore went back to the balcony and looked up. "PrivateHarper? He's fine, even though I just hit him with the window.Oh, I am, too." She stepped inside. "Jesse, he said there is asudden change of plans, and that we should look into thecourtyard." She turned back. "Horses!"

He joined her on the balcony, and put his arm around her waistbecause he wanted to. She looked back at him in surprise, thenthrilled his heart by leaning against him. "Is that Wilkie?" sheasked, pointing.

"I think so." He looked closer, which put his cheek won-drouslyclose to hers. As usual, she smelled better than he did. "There'ssomeone with him. I believe it is Monsieur Leger. My, but thatsmell of smoke is strong."

Just then the sheet rope began to sway. Jesse looked up to seeHarper descending. I thought we were to go back up and escapethrough the building, Jesse thought. He looked again at Wilkieand Leger, with horses. Elinore went back inside for her cloakand medical satchel.

Soon Harper stood beside him on the balcony. "Gracias," hecalled, looking up, then gave the rope a tug, and stepped out ofthe way when it dropped.

Jesse looked up, but could see no one. "I don't understand," hesaid. "Who is helping us?"

Harper shrugged. "Chap says he knows you, Captain. At least, Ithink that's what I think he said. My Spanish ain't much betterthan yours and his English is puny." Swiftly he tied the sheet ropeto one of the iron balustrades on the balcony. "I'll let you downfirst, and then I'll send Mrs. Randall." He grinned and nudgedJesse. "I wish you could carry 'er down and be a really big hero,but I'm not sure my rope is up to that. Go now."

Jesse snatched up his shoulder satchel again and pulled the loopover his head, fitting it snugly. By the time he reached the end ofthe rope, Wilkie was there with the horses.

The rope was too short to see him to the ground, so he jumped,wincing at the tinkle of glass inside his shoulder satchel. Thefragrance of oil of cloves rose around him as he dusted off histrousers again. He glanced inside his satchel at the bottles, andpulled out the cloves and the potassium iodide, victims of hisclumsiness.

"Kindly don't look up my skirt," Elinore called down, and helooked up automatically to see her begin her descent. When shereached the end, Jesse took her around the waist and pulled herdown in front of him on his horse.

"Handsome legs, Mrs. Randall," he said, and got a dig in the ribsfor his pains.

"I told you not to look."

Laughing, he handed her down to Wilkie, who quickly gave her aleg up onto a horse. "Wilkie, I must congratulate you on thesehorses," he said.

The private shook his head. "Sir, I 'ad nothing to do with thesehorses. And that fire? I never set it. 'Pears to me you have aguardian angel."

Startled, he looked up as Harper descended. Who is that whohelped Harper on the roof, he asked himself. And why aren't we

having any trouble in this courtyard? "Since we don't appear tobe in control of this situation, have you any idea what is going on,Private?" he asked Wilkie.

As Harper dropped to the ground, and with considerable helpfrom Wilkie, found his way onto the remaining horse, Jesseturned to Leger. "Monsieur Leger, did the count even come toour room?" he asked.

The Frenchman was obviously the only horseman among them.With a clicking sound and a graceful dip of the reins, he edgedhis horse close to Jesse. "He did, sir, and I listened to his ravingsfor a while—I never heard a more successful madman—then tiedhim up with a bellpull." He shrugged. "Captain, I am not as gooda man as you."

"He is our ally," Jesse said, but his argument sounded feeble tohis own ears.

"Perhaps," Leger replied. "I would not encourage too manyarmies as small as ours to visit Tordesillas again anytime soon.And now I suggest we leave this place."

"With pleasure," Elinore said. "Jesse, did you know that . . . thatdreadful man was planning to keep me here to paint my picture?Why on earth?"

"He thought you were beautiful. I agree with him," he saidimpulsively.

He could tell by her blush and the way she looked at him out ofthe corner of her eyes that she was pleased. "But you have justtold me he was insane," she teased.

"He had an eye for loveliness, Elinore, same as I do." There,think on that for a while, he thought as he spurred his horse upclose to Harper, who was deeply involved in staying in thesaddle. "Private, it appears to me that the hussars will never issueyou a summons to join their ranks."

"I won't go if they do," Harper replied a trifle grimly.

"What can you tell me about that man on the roof?"

"Nothing much. I think he said he knew you from Santos. I thinkhe said something about a baby, and then he was gone."

I guess Senor Ramos meant it when he said he liked to pay hisdebts, Jesse thought as he moved closer to Wilkie. "Private, I dobelieve these horses have French saddles? Any ideas?"

"Not me, Captain. They were saddled and waiting when I startedfor the barn."

"And you didn't set the fire?"

"No, sir."

They rode through Tordesillas, the town quiet in the earlymorning. Church bells tolled, and as they crossed the plaza, thepriest from last night came out and motioned for them to stop."We see the smoke," he said. "Please assure me that the castle ison fire."

Jesse stared at him. "Padre, you surprise me." Unsure of hisSpanish, he motioned Elinore forward. She listened to the priest,her eyes wide. "He says that everyone in Tordesillas has beenhoping that the French or the British would burn down the castle!He says we are welcome here anytime. Imagine."

"Do tell him I feel some little guilt because he told me his wifeneeded Extreme Unction, and he wouldn't even let me see her.Perhaps I could have helped her." He looked back at the smokethat rose high over the trees now.

She spoke to the priest and then listened, gasping several timesduring his reply. When he finished, she told him good-bye as hewent back to the church, then turned to Jesse, her eyes wide."The priest says that the count usually came once a week to askhim to the castle, because his wife was near death."

"And he wouldn't go? The people here should expect better fromtheir clergy."

"Jesse! He says she's been dead three years!"

"Oh, my," he said faintly.

"There are all sorts of rumors about French soldiers on patroldisappearing, and even cats and dogs gone, poof! without atrace." She shook her head, her own amazement undeniable. "Oh,he congratulated you on being so resourceful."

"I hope you told him that I was the biggest idiot of the whole lot."

She smiled and blew him a kiss. "I told him thank you quiteprettily, Captain, and wasn't I the lucky lady?"

He felt the strongest urge to lean closer to her from his saddle andkiss her, but he knew that his equestrian skills were no greaterthan his abilities in shinnying down a rope. He smiled instead,because the whole thing suddenly became monumentally funnyto him. Here I jog along like a bag of bones, he thought, bird shiton my trousers, another black eye forming—thank goodness I amnot a Cyclops, with the potential for three—with a four-daybeard and smelling of cloves. He looked around. I have time onmy hands, a beautiful wife who labors under the dementia that Iam a hero, a two-man army of thieves and cutpurses, and aFrenchman who seems to think he is important to Napoleon. Oh,yes, we are riding horses with French saddles, which mightsuggest to the more rational that we could be in serious trouble. Ihave a guardian angel, but he has paid his debt to me now, and Ithink we are on our own. Perhaps now I can write wee Bob andtell him that I did take a commission in the Medical Corps for theadventure of it.

He called a halt when they were out of sight of Tordesil-las, andsuggested to the others that they ride to Salamanca withoutstopping. To his dismay, or perhaps their good fortune, Elinore

remembered something else the priest had told her. "He said thatSoult is rumored to be there already, and only waiting for Souhamto move south and join him."

"That puts a new complexion on this retreat," he said, more tohimself than the others. He hoped that someone would offer asuggestion, but they all seemed to be looking at him, as thoughexpecting some wisdom to come bounding out of him like Athenafrom Zeus's brow. "I have an idea," he said, after a long pause."We have tried villages, and our luck has been haphazard at best.Castles do not seem to agree with us, either. I suggest the conventnow. Elinore, do you remember Santa Isabella?"

She shook her head.

"The Chief had me stay there an extra week while the armymoved ahead to Burgos last August. The sisters had anorphanage, and some of the children had the croup. Ring a bellwith you now?"

"Why, yes, it does. It's a little west of Salamanca, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Let's go."

They arrived after dark, picking their way along a stony path litonly by the moon, which appeared to be in danger ofdisappearing behind a bank of clouds coming up quickly from thenorth and east. Only one lamp gleamed outside the convent walls,but Jesse knew enough of Spanish poverty to feel no alarm.Elinore gasped when he jangled the bell outside the massive gateand the sound seemed to bounce off the walls. He reached outand touched her leg. "Don't worry, my dear, I know this place."

He smiled in the dark, already relishing the opportunity to showthe others something of his own skill. Two of the nuns were fromItaly, and it was going to be his turn to demonstrate his linguisticprowess. Hippocrates, the sin of pride is the stumbling block ofphysicians, eh? he told himself as he heard footsteps and waited

for the smaller gate cut in the larger one to be opened.

Lorenzo the slow boy was there at the gate, peering around it atfirst, tugging it open when he saw how few they were, thenrunning to call for the nuns. Sister Maria Josefina came first, talland handsome and so Italian. She smiled to recognize him, takinghis hand in hers, her beautiful Tuscan-flavored Italian tumblingout as though she had been waiting just for his arrival.

"Captain Randall, you are an answer to my prayers. How did youknow we needed you?"

"It is not the children again, is it?" he replied in Italian.

"No, we have sent them south to a safer place. Oh, sir, there areothers. Do follow me, and bring your men." She peered closer."Captain, do you have a wife now?"

"I do, sister."

"High time. Bellissima."

He indicated the others to follow, and left Lorenzo with thehorses. He had to hurry to keep up with the nun, but she wastaller than he was, and had a longer stride. He almost ran with herdown one corridor, the others trailing behind. She stopped andpushed open the smaller portion of another large door, this one ofiron.

When she spoke next, it was in French. "I have brought youhelp," she said in a louder voice. He felt the familiar tingle downhis spine as he stared at two rows of French soldiers, some oncots, others lying on pallets. "My God, sister," he whispered. "MyGod."

Chapter FourteenThe shock in his voice rooted Elinore to the spot. The anguishedlook he gave her—one that cried "please help" without a word

spoken—next set her in motion. Despite his obvious need for her,when she reached the doorway he extended both arms to preventher from crossing the threshold. She could only look over his arm

and gasp.

"They're French!" she exclaimed, then pinched her nostrils shut.The odor of putrefaction was almost overwhelming, even thoughthe room was large—it must have been the convent's refectory—and the air cool. The men lay in two rows facing each other.These are the enemy, she thought, and then, God help them.

She recognized them immediately for what they were, men whoseinjuries were too severe for the retreating French to take withthem after the battle of Salamanca in July. Only now in coldNovember were some of them recuperating, while others faded.She looked at them, thought of the three men left behind withDaniel O'Leary in Santos, and wondered all over again whynations fight.

She made no move to follow Jesse when he and the nun began towalk slowly by the wounded men. She was speaking to him inItalian. Hands behind his back, eyes lowered as though he wantedto look everywhere but at the men, Jesse listened, nodding nowand then. They turned when they reached the end of the row, andthis time he looked at the men. A few more feet, and then hestopped.

Elinore took her fingers from her nose, breathing slowly andevenly, concentrating on the act of breathing, rather than theferocious stench of the body when it turns on itself. In anothermoment she felt her heart resume its normal pace. Her handwhen she lowered it was steady. She looked at her husband again,

not surprised that he had found a stool from somewhere andseated himself beside a man who had propped himself up on oneelbow and who gestured as he spoke.

The man appeared near death, his cheeks sunken, but red withfever, his dark eyes so bright they almost glittered. She thought itodd that he should have the energy to gesture until she noticedthe satchel with the cross on it at the foot of his cot.

"Monsieur Leger, I think Jesse has found another surgeon," shesaid.

"He has found the enemy!" Leger hissed.

She stared at him, shocked. "I ... I don't think he sees it that way,"she said when she found her voice.

"He is a fool then."

"Elinore, please bring me my shoulder bag. I left it by the door,"Jesse called, raising his voice, and yet still speaking softly, in theway that surgeons did when there were patients they did not wishto disturb.

She nodded and found the bag. Leger grabbed her arm. "If hetreats these French soldiers, he is a traitor!"

"Monsieur, he is a surgeon," she said quietly. "It is not in hispower to be anything else. Let go of me."

She was not sure what she would do if he did not release her, butHarper solved the problem by placing both meaty hands on theFrenchman's shoulders and giving him a shake. He put his faceclose to Leger's. "Let 'er go. 'Twouldn't bother me much to landyou in one of them cots."

Jesse was on his feet now, his face pale. "Elinore, are you allright?"

In the middle of hell, he is worried about me, she thought. She

knew then that if she lived to be old, she would never forget thepeculiar grace of the moment. "Stay there, my dear," she called."It's nothing." She took in her surroundings, the nuns who hadgathered by now, the French patients, and the look on herhusband's face when she called him "my dear." She knew beyonddoubt there was no other place in the universe for her.

Leger turned on his heel and left the hall. In another moment sheheard the massive door slam. Harper and Wilkie exchangedglances. "D'ye know, Wilkie, there are times I get distressed withme fellows, but I've never seen the profit in hating them all."

"Private 'arper, it does seem a bit uncouth, eh?" Wilkie agreed."Mrs. Randall, do you understand the workings of the aristocraticmind?"

"I only know there is more sorrow in his life than any of usknow," she said quietly. "Where I might have judged earlier, Iwould not presume so now."

The men were silent then, and she shouldered her husband'smedical bag. I do hope I live long enough to appreciate what Ihave learned on this retreat, she thought. Didn't Jesse promise mesome Randall luck? Something tells me I am not the first womanled astray by a husband's promise. The notion made her want tosmile.

"Here you are, Jesse," she said. There wasn't any point in callinghim Captain, or even Chief anymore, not after calling him mydear. "Monsieur Leger seems to think you are a traitor for settingfoot in this room."

"What a relief that I am not too concerned about his opinion," hereplied. He nodded to the man on the cot. "This is CaptainPhilippe Barzun." He smiled. "What do I learn in a few momentsbut he is also a graduate of the University of Milan, although afew years before I matriculated. This is my wife," he concludedin Italian.

She smiled at the surgeon, who put a hand to his chest andmanaged a bow from his cot that someone contrived to beelegant. He spoke to Jesse in Italian, and she could not overlookthe blush that rose to her husband's face. She raised her eyebrowsat him. "He said he did not know that British woman were sobeautiful, and what does she see in a surgeon?" he related.

It was her turn to blush. She tried not to look as Jesse raised theblanket off the basket frame at the end of the cot to reveal a legswollen to grotesque proportions bound in a stained bandage fartoo constricting. He reached in his bag for his surgical scissors,and listened to Barzun.

"My dear, he wants you to take that basin down the row andtoward the end. You will see several soldiers there with fever.They could use a cool cloth."

"He's sending me away, isn't he?" she asked, her voice calm. Theodor from the wound was overpowering, now that the blankethad been turned back.

"Yes, and if he didn't, I would. Go now."

She did as he said, walking to the end of the row, and sittingdown between two soldiers. One of them must have been acuirassier, because his chest armor had been upended on thetable and doubled as a washbasin. The younger soldier had beenburned. She looked closer at his arm. The burn had obviouslybeen cleaned at one time, but not recently. Jaws clenched, sheconcentrated on wiping his face and neck. In the light of hisinjury, her act so puny, he still opened his eyes and smiled. "Merci" he whispered.

The other soldier was grizzled, older, and bore the look ofsomeone who has marched many miles in the service of theemperor. His injury was not obvious until she glanced down hisblanketed form and noticed that one leg ended abruptly at theknee. He had obviously followed her glance. When she looked at

his face again, he shrugged.

She wiped his face as well, wishing she could carry on aninconsequential chat in French, or do something, anything, thatwould cut off the sounds of anguish spilling out of the Frenchsurgeon now. The surgeon shrieked, and she leaped to her feet,only to see Jesse on his feet as well, trying to stand back from thepus that foamed from the infection. "Jesse.?" she called, andhated how her voice quavered.

"Stay where you are, my dear," he ordered.

"We have tried to do our best."

Elinore looked up from the contemplation of her own tremblinghands to see a nun before her, speaking in Spanish. "You havedone well," she replied. "The men are well-tended." It was true.Their injuries may have been appalling, but the men were clean,and cots tidy.

The nun stood before her, hands folds in front of her. "There arebut two of us here now," she said. "Most of the sisters went withthe older children to another convent in Portugal." Her voicehardened. "Others were killed by stragglers from both armiesafter suffering . . . indignities." She looked down at her ownhands. "I fear that despite our vows, this has led to a certainreluctance to help either side."

"I can understand that," Elinore said. "But . . . what happened tothe surgeon? Was he wounded at Salamanca like the others?"

The nun shook her head. "No. Three weeks ago he was helping usshift a pile of rubble left from an artillery shelling last summer.Part of the outer wall fell on him, and his leg broke in two placeswith the bone protruding." She reached inside her long sleeve,pulled out her rosary and fingered the beads. "We helped as bestwe could, but he had to set his own fracture. I fear it did not gowell."

"And you have been trying to tend all the soldiers, haven't you?"

"Yes." She looked at the black beads. "We are an order dedicatedto teaching the young and educating the privileged daughters ofSalamanca. I wish we were a nursing order. I wish . . ." Shestopped, then rose in one graceful motion and left the hall,glancing neither right nor left.

Elinore looked at her husband again. He had called Harper tohelp him, and she felt a momentary pang. Doesn't he think I amuseful anymore, she asked herself. Have I ever fainted in NumberEight? Complained? Whined? Nagged? Or is that dear man tryingto protect me?

It was really no decision for her. She had squeezed the rag in herhand into a knot. Carefully she straightened the cloth, dipped it inthe cuirassier's armor again, and made her way on steady feetback to her husband. The French surgeon lay quiet now on hisback, his shoulders relaxed with relief from the draining wound.She could see it would be no better, and she knew the task aheadfor her husband. She had no doubt that he would fight for theFrench surgeon's life, but she knew he would lose.

Her glance did not waver as she looked deep into his eyes, thenwiped his face. His eyes flickered when she did that, and she puther hands on his neck, holding them there, trying to communicatein a wordless way that he was not alone in this ordeal. She knewshe should say something, but she knew her own shyness. Well,what of it? she asked herself, in the room that had gone so quiet. Iwill not let my chances pass me by anymore. That would be ashameful waste of time, especially when we do not know fromday to day how much time we have.

"Jesse Randall, I love you," she whispered. "I will never go so faras to say that marrying me was the wisest thing you ever did, butit was the best thing that has ever happened to me. Thank you."

She wanted to kiss him then, but she knew she was too shy for

that. To her gratification, he leaned forward then and rested hischeek against hers until his lips were by her ear. "Elinore, itwould astound you if I told you how long I have loved you. Youmight even call me a liar," he whispered.

"You have never lied to me," she murmured.

"I never will. I want you to take my shoulder bag, get out thebone saws when you are in another room, and wash them. Givethem to Harper in a clean towel and ask Sister Maria Josefina tofind me a room with thick walls. Wilkie can help Harper movePhilippe's cot."

She closed her eyes against what he was saying, but did notflinch. She nodded, and picked up his bag. There was plenty ofhot water in the kitchen, and she scrubbed the three bone saws.The wooden handles were smooth from constant use, oiled byJesse's hands for ten years. Ten years of this! She looked downinto the soapy water and remembered how her father and someof the other officers had chuckled over poor, shy CaptainRandall. You have no idea, she thought. If it is true that ourguardian angel, or St. Peter, or someone beyond my paltrytheology writes our deeds in a book of life, I only hope I amstanding close to you, Jesse Randall, when the deeds are read outloud. I want to watch you blush, and stammer, and say it wasnothing, while the rest of us plead for second chances.

Harper, his face deadly serious, was waiting for her in the mainhall when she came up the stairs from the kitchen. She took thebag from her shoulder and handed him the saws. "Here you are,Private."

He shouldered the bag. "Mrs. Randall, doesn't he know that I ama lazy sneak thief who never thought of anyone but himself?"

It was the same question she had been asking about herself forthe entire retreat. "You know," she replied, after a moment'sthought, "I don't think Captain Randall sees what we see in

ourselves."

He shifted his feet, and she could tell he was uncomfortable withthe idea. "Well, well . . . which of us is right?" he asked finally.

"He is, without a doubt. Go on, now. It won't be as bad as youthink."

Harper nodded. "Because he thinks I can handle this?"

"He knows you can. I believe that is part of his secret in dealingwith us."

She touched his arm and gave him a little push. In another minuteJesse came from the refectory, wiping his hands on a towel,followed by the privates carrying Philippe Barzun on his cot. Sheblew him a kiss, and was rewarded with a smile. Sister MariaJosefina and another nun brought dinner for the soldiers, nothingmore than barley broth and dark bread to sop it with. There was abowl for her and Wilkie, who had returned to the refectory andstood against the wall, his eyes stark. When she ate finally, hedid, too. She sat on the stool in the space empty now of theFrench surgeon, willing the time to pass. Although she had neverwitnessed an amputation, she knew how fast Number Eight'ssurgeons could operate. Why is this taking so long? she thought.

She wondered where Leger was, and toyed briefly with the ideaof looking for him. The urge passed; all she wanted to do was liedown and sleep until the war was over. She dared herself to thinkof what life must be like in Dundee as the wife of the localsurgeon, and found that she had neither the wit nor the energy toconjure up even the slightest image. Dismayed, she tried toimagine a lending library, her favorite daydream, one told her inLisbon by a major recuperating from Vimiero. Nothing. I am justtired, she thought, just tired.

As she sat staring at the wall, Wilkie began to sing. She closedher eyes in gratitude for the beautiful sound of his voice. The

heavy masonry walls of the refectory were the perfect soundingboard for his clear tenor as he sang a lullaby she rememberedfrom her own childhood. Funny how that is, she told herself asshe opened her eyes and watched him, smiling at the way hisbrows came together when he sang, skinny, scrawny,undernourished Wilkie. When this retreat began, I wouldn't havethought Wilkie had ever even possessed such a thing as a mother.I am in better company right now than at any time in my life. Isuppose Major Bones thought to punish me—punish us all. He isthe fool.

When Wilkie finished, she noticed Harper standing in thedoorway. She hurried to him, taking in the seriousness of hisexpression. Poor, dear Harper, she thought. She took his hand.He clung to it, and her heart went out to him.

"How can a man do what he does?"

"I'm not sure." Her other arm was around him now.

She felt Harper relax a little, but she did not release him from herembrace. "What happened, Private?" she asked, when shethought he could talk. "What took so long?"

"He wanted a priest, so we waited for one to come fromSalamanca." He tightened his grip on her. "He confessed andreceived—what's that called?"

"Absolution?"

"Yes, that. And do you know, Captain Randall did the samething, only he asked for the priest to make his hands steady-like."He sighed. "I don't want to talk about the operation."

"Then don't. Is the Frenchman still alive?"

Harper nodded and released her, her words obviously remindinghim why he had come to the hall. When Wilkie finished singing,he tapped his shoulder. "You're to help me move the surgeon

back in here now." He turned to Elinore. "The Chief wants him inhere, and he wants another cot so he can lie down beside him. Hesaid you're to ask Sister Josefina if she has another cot."

Careful to keep the cot absolutely level, Harper and Wilkiecarried the unconscious French surgeon back into the refectory.Jesse followed them. With a rush of pleasure, Elinore noticedhow he looked around the room, as though trying to find her. Henodded to her, then turned his attention back to his patient. Theother nun in the room handed him a clean sheet, which he placedcarefully under Barzun's lower body. While Harper held up theblanket, he reposi-tioned the basket frame above what littleremained of the surgeon's leg and then told Harper to drape theblanket again. He took a bottle from his satchel and placed it nextto the glass of water already on the little table. When SisterJosefina Maria and Lorenzo the slow boy carried in the extra cot,he pulled it close to Barzun's side.

After speaking in a low voice to Wilkie and Harper, he dismissedthem and walked toward her. He answered the question she knewwas in her eyes. "He's unconscious now. Oh, Elinore, it was adifficult amputation. You saw how swollen his leg was. He has awife and three little ones in Grenoble, and he insisted that I try. Idid the best I could."

"I know that," she told him, taking him by the arm.

He draped his arm across her shoulders, and the weight of itmade her realize that he was leaning on her. "Would you like tosit down?" she asked.

"I will eventually. Elinore, we sent to Salamanca for a priest."

"Harper told me."

"The French are already in Salamanca. Clausel's army is seekingto join with Soult and Souham, who probably aren't far behind us.I can't leave until I know Barzun's outcome, but you and the

others had better be ready."

"I won't leave you," she said.

"Even if I ordered it?" he asked with a faint smile.

"Even then." She nudged him. "You're not my commandingofficer."

"I'm your husband," he reminded her. "Doesn't that pull anyropes with you?"

"Not one that I'm aware of, Captain Randall."

"Captain Randall, is it? What happened to 'my dear'?" He kissedher cheek and released her. "Go to bed now. I'm going to stayhere. Every time he tries to resurface, I'm going to dose Barzunback down with that blessed opium you bought me with yourmother's necklace."

She knew she could have skated through this whisperedconversation if he hadn't taken hold of her neck then and gazedat her with that intensity she had come to crave from him. "MyGod, Elinore, did I thank you enough for doing that? Or did I justgrouse because you had to give away something so precious?"

"I did exactly what I wanted to do," she assured him, then took adeep breath. "And I am exactly where I want to be right now. Goto Barzun. I will see you in the morning."

"You are more of a martinet than the Chief ever was! I plan toclean that soldier's burn tonight, and look at that man lying so stillover there. You will be in charge tomorrow, so don't get anymissish ideas about running away from the French." He put hisarm around her waist. "Come on and recall me to duty now."

She walked him back to Barzun's cot. "I intend to pray for amonumental rain storm to keep the French in Salamanca."

"Good." He released his grip on her, and stared down at his

patient. "An ice storm would be even better, although it may be alittle early in the season." He placed the back of his hand onBarzun's forehead. "Any other miracles would be appreciated,my dearest."

She dreamed of a fierce storm and woke to the sound of icepellets hitting the heavy leaded glass. The room was cold, but shebounded out of bed and pulled a stool to the high window. Shelooked at ice-heavy trees, smiled to see the ground glisten andreflect watery light from thousands of tiny prisms, and rejoicedinside.

She hated to think how dirty she was, especially when shecompared herself to the cool, efficient nuns of Santa Isabella. Theregret lasted no longer than it took to throw on her clothes, combher hair, and pull up her half boots. She had not intended to sleepso late.

The refectory was so quiet that she hesitated to enter. Braziersglowed and gave off welcome warmth, the coals muted now aftera long winter night. She tiptoed into the room, pausing for amoment by her husband asleep on the cot, clothes and shoes on,his army overcoat draped over his body. Philippe Barzun wasbeginning to stir, to move his head from side to side. Shewatched, amazed that he still lived. Jesse said you have a wifeand children in Grenoble, she thought, and in a moment of totalclarity, she understood his will to live to enjoy the fellowship ofthose he loved. I would fight, too, Monsieur Barzun, oh, how Iwould fight.

She passed on down the row, her eyes on the soldiers who slept.She stopped at the end of the row to see that Jesse had cleanedthe burn at some point during what must have been a long night.Jesse had left the arm exposed to the air, and the makeshift basinof armor was dark with matter. Never mind. When the roomlightened, she would empty it and her day of watching wouldbegin. With any luck the ice would continue to make travel from

Salamanca impossible. General Clausel, you have better things todo today than go searching for Soult or Souham's armies, shethought. Stay indoors where it is warm, drink some of that sherryyou have probably stolen from vineyards to the south, and catchup on your correspondence, please.

Her eyes accustomed themselves to the gloom at the same timeshe heard someone whisper her name. Surprised, she lookedaround. "Yes?" she whispered.

"Over here."

She followed the sound and noticed a man sitting between twocots. "Monsieur Leger?" she asked, uncertain.

"Come closer."

She moved slowly toward him, not sure if she was hesitant stillabout his location, or if she dreaded his presence after hisoutburst last night. "You are the last person I thought I wouldfind here," she whispered, not wanting to wake anyone, but notwilling to move closer.

"Forgive my intemperance last night," he said simply, andmotioned her forward. She knelt beside him, and he touched herhead. "Elinore, I thought I should do a little penance for myrudeness." He looked to his left, and she noticed that he washolding one of the patient's hands. "He was crying and wanted hismother," Leger explained. "I am a poor substitute, but he did notseem to mind."

"I thought you did not want anything to do with your countrymenanymore," she said. "In fact, weren't you rather adamant on thesubject?"

"We are all of us a long way from home," he countered. Whenshe said nothing, he looked down at her. "You'll get cold sittingon the floor."

She shook her head, unwilling to disrupt him.

"I have sat here most of the night, watching this poor man. Iwatched your husband, too. I need to apologize to him for myrudeness."

"I doubt he is too concerned about it. monsieur." His hand wasstill on her head, but she decided she did not mind.

"And I have been thinking, cherie." He smiled at her. "Do youmind if I call you that? I used to call Charlotte and Eugenie cherie. How many times I have wished in the last twenty yearsthat I had taken my family to England with me on my diplomaticexcursions! But I did not, and you know the results."

He chuckled, and she listened, holding her breath, for anybitterness. There was none this time. "That man across the way,the older soldier with but one leg?'"

She nodded.

"He says 'c'est la vie' all the time! Perhaps traipsing all overEurope with Napoleon has made him more philosophical thanmost. The smart salon set I used to lounge about with would havecalled him simple, but I say now that he is right. That is life, andhaven't the last twenty-five years been an adventure! I daresaywe will all make the history books, if someone lives to writethem." He lifted his hand from her head and rested it gently onher shoulder. "Perhaps my countrymen do need me. Am I afool?"

"Not anymore," she replied.

Jesse was sitting up on his cot when she tiptoed back. Hescratched at his week-old beard and patted the space beside him.She sat down, supremely content when he put his arm aroundher.

"A long night?" she whispered, leaning close to him.

He nodded. "You saw that cleaned out burn. I hate to inflict thatmuch punishment, but I know he'll feel some relief now." Helooked toward Leger. "Monsieur Le Gross Complaint actuallyasked me what he could do to help, so I told him to hold handswith that poor fusilier."

"He cannot be requiring any medical assistance."

"No, more's the pity, but he starts to cry for his 'maman,' and itupsets the others." He directed his gaze at the cot close to him."And our surgeon? Elinore, I cannot believe he still lives."

"Why not?" she asked. "He had an excellent surgeon, and youknow he wants to see his family again."

He moved his hand to her neck and began to massage it gently."Remember when the Chief used to call me Dr. Hackensaw?"

"Now, be fair," she chided him. "As I recall, he referred to bothyou and him as the Doctors Hackensaw after Ciu-dad Rodrigo."She closed her eyes with the pleasure of his fingers. He is tired,and I am the beneficiary, she thought. How strange.

"I felt like such a caricature of a surgeon last night!" His fingersleft her neck, and he leaned forward on the cot, his handsdangling between his knees. "He broke both his tibia and fibula intwo places, but I had to amputate rather high up on his thighbecause of the infection." He sighed and gently ran his handalong Barzun's arm. "If he lives, I have rendered him an invalid."

"Would he have lived without your surgery?"

"No."

"Did he want you to operate?"

"He insisted upon it."

"And you did the best you could?"

"The very best." He turned his attention to her, and the weariness

in his eyes brought tears to her own. "I suppose you will tell meto go lie down and really sleep?"

"You can trust Monsieur Barzun with me," she said quietly.

He smiled, took her hand, and raised it to his lips. "I've known foryears that I could trust you with anything. When the Chief usedto ask you to sweep out the tent—I doubt you were more thanten, dear wife—I wish I could have preserved that look ofdetermination in your eyes to do the job well! I would haveprescribed a dose of it three times daily to every soldier inWellington's army."

She laughed softly at the image his words presented, then put herhand to her mouth when Barzun stirred and muttered. Jesseleaned closer and watched him intently. He put his fingers againstthe surgeon's neck and frowned. "So thready," he said. "I'd giveall my back pay for a steady pulse." He took her hand again. "Iknow I can trust you." He turned on the cot until he was facingher. "Would you trust me with something?"

"You know I will. What is it?" she asked.

"Your heart, my dearest."

She looked at him, so tired that his eyes were half closed; so dirtyshe could see dried blood under his fingernails. The front of hisuniform was flecked with particles better left undescribed. Hewas a far cry from the quiet, shy surgeon that the other officersfrom glamorous and famous regiments chuckled over until thedreadful moment when they needed him. I may be the luckiestwoman in the world, she thought, the wonder of it so far beyondher imagination that she felt light-headed. How did this goodthing happen to me?

She had to say something, because doubt was starting to creepinto his eyes. Sitting there in a row of cots with the wounded ofNapoleon's army, she couldn't imagine a place farther removed

from this setting that a woman in love would wish for a properdeclaration. C'est la vie, she thought. "There may be some slightproblem with giving you my heart, Jesse," she said simply. "Youalready have it. How could I possibly give it to you again?"

She closed her eyes when he pulled her into a tight embrace. Shelocked her arms across his back, unwilling to let him go, even ifevery patient in the refectory should suddenly demand hisattention, or all three French armies burst through the front door.She would hold him tight until . . . Elinore started to smile. Hewas breathing deep and even against her shoulder, heavier by themoment as he began to relax against her breast. Gently, softly, soshe would not waken him, she kissed his hair and lowered him tothe cot. When she had covered him with his overcoat again, shesat on the floor between the two cots, her eyes on PhilippeBarzun, her heart on Jesse Randall.

Chapter Fifteen Elinore woke him soon, and Sister Maria Josefina escorted him tothe room his wife had vacated. The nun asked him something that

he agreed to without understanding a single word. He sat there,staring at her stupidly until her beautiful Italian finally penetrated

his skull. "You want my clothes," he repeated. He took off hisuniform blouse and began to unbutton his trousers. He winced atthe shrillness of her voice then, until it dawned on him that shepreferred him to wait until she left the room, and then put them

outside the door. He nodded, but continued to unbutton histrousers. He was stepping out of them when he heard the door

slam forcefully.

He took off everything until he was bare and shivering. Thedistance from the bed to the door looked like the distance across

St. Peter's Square in the Vatican. He gave it up as a bad businessand crawled into bed. If Sister Maria Josefina wanted his clothes,she could come and get them, or send Lorenzo the slow boy. Hiseyes closed.

He woke hours later as he always woke, sitting bolt upright,instantly alert and wired like the key to the kite in Dr. Franklin'sfamous experiment. He knew the moment of absolute panicwould pass, reminding himself that if something earth-shatteringhad occurred in the refectory, Elinore would have sent Harper orWilkie running.

He sank down slowly into the blankets again, wide awake butunwilling to stir. He glanced at the floor and smiled to see that hisclothes were gone. "What a dilemma this is, Hippocrates," he saidout loud. "I think I'm chained to this bed until my clothes return."

He knew the thought gave him leave to drift back to sleep, but hecouldn't, not with his brain alert now. Instead, he did what healways did and thought about his patients. He lay there, theblanket tight to his chin, watching his breath and revisiting everydecision, every treatment, every consolation he had extendedwith his puny arsenal of supplies.

"Hippocrates, I hate my job," he said out loud. "Did you everhate it?" Tears welled in his eyes. Did you ever stand over living,twitching flesh with blood up to your elbows and wonder whyyou had to do the world's dirty work? His stomach queasy, herelived every detail of last night's surgery, from Harper'swide-eyed revulsion to Barzun's attempt not to scream as heprobed, prodded, retracted, ligated, and set saw to bone. Hewondered how many surgeons for how many years would havegiven their own lives for something to deaden pain in surgery. Iwould, he told himself, I would.

Despite his own doubts, he knew he had done his best. Anamputation was a fairly straightforward surgical procedure, if

done soon after the injury. Barzun's three-week-old calamity fitall the specifications of worst cases that Sheffield drilled him withduring those hours on horseback with the army on the move, orduring rare moments of inactivity. Thanks to Sheffield'sunderstanding of rough-and-ready surgery, Jesse knew what todo. Only afterward did the regret seep in and return now toplague his sleep.

There had been one sweet moment, and he owed it to Barzun'sinsistence on waiting for the priest from a parish close toSalamanca. While Harper had watched with that evident distastethat all Protestants, however lapsed, seemed to feel in thepresence of a priest, Jesse had bowed his own head, listened toBarzun's faint confession, and felt the overpowering need topurge his own soul. The priest had taken him to a corner of thesmall room, and he had knelt beside the man, pouring out ail thesins he could remember since his last confession years ago beforehe left for Milan and medical school. His Spanish was so poor hedoubted he could be understood. He switched to Latin, whichhad been the second language at medical school. He listened tohimself speak of anger, directed sometimes at the French, andother times at the cruelty of venal quartermasters andcommanders who did not care about their low-born men. In thismodern age of medical science, his scientist's brain may havelistened askance at his babblings, but his heart spoke this time.

The list had seemed so long to him. but the priest granted himabsolution after penance of but one Hail Mary. Father did youunderstand all my sins? he had asked himself as he rose from hisknees and opened the door for the priest to leave. He could notdeny that his heart was lighter, despite the fact that PhilippeBarzun, his enemy, had given him an impossible task. He was notsuch a hypocrite to pray for a miracle where his scientist's braintold him none was possible. As he picked up the probe and toldHarper to hold the surgeon, he only asked for wisdom toremember all he had been taught. In a moment of crystal clarity,

his first probe told him that Barzun's surgery was his realpenance. Such a wise priest.

I did my best, Mary Mother of God, he told himself. If my handwas steady, all honor to Thee, who watched a dying son and didnot quail, and the saint of surgeons, whoever that poor sod is.Hippocrates, I fear you and I have run our course now. In deeppeace, he closed his eyes and returned to sleep.

When he woke, the afternoon shadows hung low in the room. Hedreamed of water, and sure enough, there was Lorenzo, pouringwater with steam rising from it into a tin tub. He sat up slowlythis time, wonder of wonders, and looked around. His clotheswere laid across the foot of the bed, shirt and smallclotheswashed, the uniform brushed as clean as possible. The butcher'sapron he had left in the room where Barzun had parted companywith his leg was also washed and neatly folded beside them.

The water looked incredibly inviting. He knew Lorenzo hadn'tthe wit to expect anything in exchange for his services, but hedug around in Elinore's satchel until he found the necklace ofblue beads. Forgive me, dearest, he thought as he extracted twobeads and handed them to Lorenzo with as much ceremony as hecould muster, considering that he was standing there barefoot andwearing nothing but a smile. He waved away Lorenzo's profusethanks and lowered himself into the warm water. He leaned backin satisfaction, and reached for the soap.

His cleanliness rendered him almost self-conscious when heentered the refectory an hour later, after first searching outHarper and Wilkie and finding them in the toils of rudimentarycarpentry, under the command of Sister Maria Josefina. "There'sno one to help her except Lorenzo, and he's a bit barmy," Wilkiehad explained.

"I have no objections, Private," Jesse said. "Carry on, please."

Harper nodded to him and touched a finger against his forehead

in a most casual salute. Jesse felt another twinge of regret atforcing his services last night. He came closer to the hulkingprivate, who was hammering a wooden frame into a ruinedwindow. "Private, accept my apologies for putting you throughthe mill last night," he said. "I needed your strength more than Ineeded Elinore's experience right then."

"I know, Chief," Harper said. "We couldn't have her in there,could we?"

"No," he agreed, warm with the confederacy their conversationhad created. "Never that. As you were, Private."

Her back straight, Elinore sat on the stool beside Bar-zun's cot.The slow way she moved her neck at his approach told himvolumes about the tension of her long day, he almost regrettedthe time he had lavished on himself in the tub. He stood besideher, his hand on her shoulder. She responded by leaning againsthim, and his cup ran over.

He squatted down beside her. "I hope you understand why I didnot ask for your assistance last night."

"When I helped Monsieur Barzun with the urinal this morning, Itook a good look at your handiwork," she said, still not taking hereyes from her patient. "I couldn't have held him down."

"No." He nudged her arm with his head. "I know you will arguethat you have seen worse after battle."

"That's not the point, is it?" she asked quietly. "You cared enoughto spare me. For that, I thank you." She looked at Barzun then,and he wondered which of them was more shy. "He is still alive,Jesse. I don't know how."

"Nor I." He stood up then, his training taking over. He foundBarzun's pulse with no trouble. "Damn, still thready," he said."He actually passed water?"

"Yes."

"Kidneys are working. Has he been conscious?"

She nodded. "I don't understand Italian, but it's a cousin ofSpanish, at least. I think he asked for you." She indicated theopium bottle. "I gave him a few drops in water when he startedmoving and scratching his hands. Monsieur Leger sat with himwhile I ate. but he is gone now. The man whose arm you debrideddeclares to one and all that he is well enough to rejoin hisregiment, and that poor fellow across from him keeps crying forhis maman."

"All in all, a typical day in the lunatic asylum, eh?" he teased. Hestood up and pulled her to her feet. "It is your turn to think ofyourself, Elinore. When I left the room. Lorenzo was filling thetub with clean water." He laughed softly. "Lord, Elinore, I left somuch scum in that tub, I think he had to chisel it out."

He sat down on the stool she vacated and watched her leave theroom, all the while admiring the graceful motion of her walk.

"I hope you are not seriously planning to spend the night with me,surgeon. You will have a better time with your wife."

He looked around in surprise. Barzun was watching him. His eyeswere bright with fever, and his voice dry with little use, but therewas no mistaking him. "You seem determined to live," Jesse said,hoping that he did not sound as embarrassed as he felt.

"Someone must protect my patients from the English doctor," hesaid.

Praise God that he can quiz me, Jesse thought. I can return thefavor. He carefully pulled back the blanket. "Mind yourself,surgeon. At least I took off the correct leg."

They looked at each other, and he knew it was the perfectmoment between two men with everything in common, including

an Oath given in a Milan courtyard. "Did you ever ..." he began.

Barzun started to laugh. "I set the wrong leg once." He sighedand closed his eyes. "Tell me what you see, Captain."

Jesse looked, lifting a portion of the loose bandage with hislong-nosed tweezers. "No streaks. No proud flesh yet. Forgive mefor amputating so high, but it was best."

"I'm still alive."

Jesse replaced the mesh basket and settled the blanket around itagain. "You are, indeed. And now I will give you more drops, andyou will sleep."

Barzun did not object. Jesse raised his head, and the surgeondrank the opium-laced water. You have worn yourself out withconversation, he thought. Why must you French be so voluble?He stood a little longer, then walked down the row, checkingeach man. To his surprise, Armand Leger sat beside the man withthe head wound again. He looked up at Jesse.

"Captain, we do not even know his name," he murmured. "He didnot eat today, and look at his eyes, how sunken they are."

"I do not think he will live through this night, monsieur," Jessesaid. "Send Harper for me when the moment is near."

He stopped by Barzun again, and instructed the nun to come tohim if the surgeon needed help in the night. He turned to go, butthe surgeon spoke, his voice low and drowsy.

"I did not mean what I said about English surgeons."

"I know you were quizzing me," Jesse said, touching his shoulder."Now, go to sleep." He changed his mind and leaned closer again."You're a better Catholic than I am— scuzi, signore—so tell me,Philippe: who is the patron saint of surgeons?"

"We have two, you heretic," Barzun replied. His eyes closed.

"Saint Cosmas and Saint Damian. That should be enough, evenfor you. Buon nozzi"

He said good night to Harper and Wilkie, who had alreadybedded down on cots by the entrance to the refectory, andwalked the length of the hall to the room he shared with Elinore.I suppose there are a hundred things I should do right now, but Iam going to bed my wife, if she is agreeable. I hope she willunderstand, because I just have to.

She was lying down, staring up at the ceiling, when he came intothe room. From the frown on her face and the inner look of her,he knew what to say. "Back hurt?"

She nodded. "I want to straighten out my legs, but when I do, itfeels like there's not enough skin for the length of me. What adilemma."

He didn't know whether he had ever heard a more apt descriptionof a backache caused by fractious nerves, and told her so. Shechuckled, but the frown was still there.

He came closer to the bed. "I know what'll help. Slide over andlie on your stomach like a good girl." He took off his uniform andshirt, and sat down beside her.

She made a face at him, but did as he said, turning her head toregard him. He could have laughed at the wary look in her eyes,but had the good sense not to. The first rule is not to scare her todeath, he thought.

"All right now, I'm going to massage your shoulders."

She closed her eyes, but offered no objection, going so far as totuck the beautiful mass of her hair closer to her neck. He startedon her upper back, digging in gently with the heels of his hands. Itfelt like he was kneading wood.

"A little tense, Elinore?"

She sighed, but he felt her silent laugh.

"Give a little in your shoulders, Elinore. You know I'm not amiracle worker."

She did as he said, and his fingers met with less resistance. "Oh, Ithink you are," she said, and her voice was less wary. "Could youscratch my right shoulder blade?" He did, and she sighed again."A little lower. Oh, lovely."

He made great progress on the area around her neck, marvelingat the lightness of her bones and the softness of her back. One ofthe hospital stewards had remarked to him once that ElinoreMason had such a fragile air about her. You're so right, hethought as he expertly manipulated her shoulders through thecoarse fabric of the nightgown that the nuns must have loanedher. He knew the resiliency of the human body as well as anysurgeon, but he still felt reluctant to press too hard. She had thatgentle air about her that had always impressed him. He knew thateven if he were permitted to grow old and cranky with her, hewould always wonder how she preserved that gentleness. What isit about women, he asked himself. Or at least, what is it about thiswoman?

He could have exclaimed in dismay when her back tightenedagain and she sat up. "This won't do," she said, her voice brusque.

So much for my bedside manner, he thought, disappointed, thenheld his breath as she faced away from him on the bed,unbuttoned her nightgown, and pulled it down to her waist. Shelay down again without a word. He hoped for just a glimpse ofher breasts, and he wasn't disappointed. He resumed his therapy.Her skin was warm, elastic, and she had a small birthmark just to the side of her spinal column. He touched it, then maneuveredhis fingers gently down the length of her spine. His reward wasanother sigh, and the complete relaxation of her arms.

"I wish you would do that a little harder," she said.

"I can, but I'm in an awkward position," he told her.

"Well, then" was all she said, but he wasn't one to kiss away anopportunity. In another moment he straddled her back. He wasbecoming aroused by now, but he was careful to hold himselfhigh enough not to scare her to death. It was easy then to parallelhis hands across her back with a firmer touch.

"Better?"

She nodded, and patted his knee with her fingers.

He probably could have remained at least semiprofes-sionalabout the matter, except that she did not move her hand from hisknee. With a rush of pleasure, he grew firm. As he leaned closerto apply more pressure to her lower back, he knew his memberbrushed against her hips. In for a penny, in for a pound, hethought, and continued his therapy. He just hoped she would notrequire any conversation, because he knew his respirations weregetting ragged.

"I wish you would raise up," she said, her voice even.

He could have cried in absolute misery then, except that themoment became one he wanted to treasure always, though heknew he would never share it with another human. To hisunspeakable delight, she rolled over onto her back and lay therelooking up at him as he straddled her. Her breasts were truly aslovely as he thought they would be, all white and pink. Hetouched one, enjoying the give of it. He checked the heft next,his hand under her breast, pleased with the feel of it. Hediscarded his notion of fragility without a qualm. This was awoman of some substance.

"I suppose they have a Latin name," she said, and raised her armto touch his face.

"I'm certain you are right, my love, but at the moment I can'teven recall my own name," he told her.

She laughed. "It's Jesse Cameron Randall."

"What's your name?" be teased back.

"I haven't a clue." she replied, then rested her palm against hischest. "Do one thing though, please."

He'd have given her half his kingdom then, if she wanted. "If it'ssimple."

"Blow out that candle. I'm just a little squeamish about this."

He smiled, leaned over, and did as she asked. The moonlightstreamed in through the small window. "Can't do anything aboutthat, Elinore. Sorry."

"Well, then," she said again, and he knew that was her preludenow.

He knew better than to tease her anymore, because he noticedthat her respirations were becoming almost as uneven as his own.He shucked his underdrawers while she pulled off her nightgown.

He rested himself on her, and she obligingly moved her legswider. "My dearest, this may be a bit of a jolt to your system, butI assure you that people have been doing it for thousands ofyears."

A more personal massage—one that made her sigh— assured himthat she was quite ready for him. She opened her eyes wide andgrunted softly when he entered her, but she relaxed again, evenmoving with him and wrapping her arms around him.

He did not expect her to climax this first time, and she didn't. Tohis intense pleasure, though, she tightened her legs around himwhen he did, and pressed her hands against the small of his back.Somewhere before his brain exploded, he thought it was apossessive gesture that boded well for the future.

After he finished and was lying there all content on his back, he

thought to look for his smallclothes, in the event that someoneneeded him in the middle of the night. He felt amazinglydisinclined to leave the bed and do a reconnaissance. Besides,Elinore had curled up close to him, resting her head on his chest,her hand widespread on his stomach.

"All right?" he asked, and she nodded. He was glad that sheseemed equally disinclined to pull on her nightgown. The feel ofher skin against his was bliss.

She tensed a little, and he could tell she wanted to say something."M'mm?" He hated that his eyes were closing.

"Will I feel that way, too?" she asked, and to his ears, she waschoosing her words carefully.

"Most certainly. It takes a little practice, I think, for mostfemales."

"No, Jess, I'm a woman," she said. "Females are medical."

He laughed. "So right, woman."

"Don't forget it."

"Lord, I have married a dragon," he whispered, his lips againsther hair as she nestled herself into his shoulder. He tightened hisarm around her.

"You know if you keep your arm like that, it's going to go tosleep," she told him.

"I should move it," he said, but did nothing. What he said musthave made great good sense to her, because she nodded andcuddled closer.

Hours later, even as tired as he was, the bell summoning the nunsto midnight prayer woke him. Elinore pressed up close to hisback now, her leg thrown over him. He woke her and took heragain. He could tell she was much closer this time, but his own

weariness prevented him from getting her where he knew shewanted to go. I am a selfish beast, he thought as she smiled,shook her hair out of her eyes, and kissed him.

She sat up then, her hand pressed to the small of her back. He laythere and admired the sheer grace of her as she got up from thebed, stretched in the slowest kind of motion like a cat, and thencleaned herself from the tin tub. He watched her, a smile on hisface, enjoying her homely actions, and feeling his whole bodyrelax. To his disappointment, she found her nightgown and put iton before she curled up beside him.

It was just as well. He had dropped off to sleep, his face deep inElinore's hair, when the door opened and Harper woke him with atap to his shoulder. He was alert in an instant, shushing Elinorewhen she tensed and tried to rise. "Is it that unknown one?" hewhispered. Please don't let it be Philippe, he thought.

"Yes, sir. Chief, I think you should come."

"I'll be right there. Go back to sleep, Elinore."

It took only a moment to find his shirt and trousers and hurrydown the dark corridor. All the length of it, he rehearsed in hismind everything he imagined that Philippe Barzun had done forthe man before his own accident.

Armand Leger sat by the man still, holding his hand. Without aword, Jesse sat on the other side of the cot until the man gavethat familiar sigh that went on forever, then died. From habit hereached for his timepiece to record the moment of death, eventhough the little watch with the precious second hand had gone tobuy food in a nameless town a week ago. "I don't know when hedied, monsieur," he murmured.

Armand gently ran his fingers down the dead man's eyes."Somtime in the night, Captain. That's good enough for us, and Idon't think he cares. It's . . . it's just time."

He nodded and stood up, covering the soldier's face, so peacefulnow. All I know is that although you were a fusilier and myenemy, I would prefer you alive, he thought. "At least we canleave him in a good place, Armand." He hesitated a moment, thentouched Leger's shoulder. "Thank you for staying with him."

He took his own time in the refectory, looking again at eachsleeping man. Harper had resumed his place beside PhilippeBarzun. "The nun went somewhere."

"It must be Lauds, Private. When she returns, you had better getsome sleep. I think we will have to leave this day."

The glance Harper directed his way was dubious, at best. "I'drather wait a bit until we know this captain isn't going to be crowfood, sir."

"Harper, you've changed on this retreat."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but so have you."

He walked more slowly down the hall, his bare feet cold on thestones. Elinore sat up when he came to bed. He knew he didn'thave to say anything, because she kissed him and then wrappedher arms around him as he sat there beside her, still a little numband wondering from death.

"It never changes, my love," he said softly. "I am astounded bydeath. It irritates me, and I wonder if he might have lived underbetter circumstances." He turned to face her. "But you know, he'sso obviously somewhere else, and it didn't look unpleasant."

"You are here," she pointed out in that practical way of hers.

"I am," he agreed, touched in an odd way. "What should I doabout it?"

"Love me," she replied, and removed her nightgown.

He obliged her with real fervor, even as his disordered brain

contemplated this curious juxtaposition of love and death withina half hour of each other. She came this time, with a rush ofbreath against his ear and a straining up toward him that lifted hisheart miles from the grave and bound him to her forever, nomatter how much life either of them had remaining.

"My goodness," she said, after he left her body but was still asclose as he could possibly be. "I had no idea."

He laughed softly. "Perhaps I am a great lover, Nell."

"How would I know?" she replied in that frank way of hers, sopractical and at the same time so seductive.

He growled and took a nip at her shoulder. She shrieked and thenlaughed, and covered her mouth, her eyes wide. "Oh, dear, whatwill the nuns think?"

"I don't intend to worry about it," he told her as he settled back inabsolute comfort and gathered her close to him. He looked at herthen traced the contour of her face with his finger. "I love you,Elinore."

"Even if it's not the wisest thing you ever did?" She said it softly,her eyes closed.

He put his hand on her head and gave it a little shake. "Elinore, Ifear that in seeing our differences, you have overlooked a way inwhich we are uncannily similar." When she did not answer, butsighed instead, he continued, "You and 1 have been givensomeone's permission to do the world's dirty work. I chose it bygoing to medical school. You didn't have any choice." It was histurn to sigh as his wife put her bare leg over him. "My choicemade me cynical and somewhat irreligious. As far as I can tell, itmade you kindly and earnest."

"Earnest?" she repeated with a laugh. "Loverlike words, myboy!"

He smiled. "Earnest, I insist! You worked so hard to please MajorSheffield in the hospital tent from the time you were ten. Andkindly because I believe you have always thought we were betterthan we are."

"But you are," she insisted, her voice muffled now in that spacebetween bis shoulder and his chest where she fit amazingly well.

He gave her head another gentle shake. "There you go again.When you were a child, I thought you were charming, ifsomewhat ill-directed, to think that. When I came back to theregiment five years later and took another look at you, I decidedthat I wanted to become the man you thought I was. It's as simpleas that."

She raised up on her elbow to look at him. "But what will yourmother think when you bring home a somewhat shabby daughterof the regiment who—let us face facts, sir—-hasn't mucheducation, and no social attainments?"

If she was going to lean over him like that, he was going to haveto do something about her loveliness. He kissed her breast,enjoying a little unholy glee at how ragged her breathing became.His lips just brushed her nipple. He was going to chuckle at theway she shivered, except that he was shivering now. "Where wasI?" he asked. "Oh, yes. Mother will tell my father how gratefulshe is that my brains haven't dribbled out, then rush over to St.James the Apostle and burn five or six candles at both ends. Oh,Elinore."

There wasn't anything else to say.

Chapter Sixteen

"You don't think anyone will notice what we have been up to?"

Don't laugh, he told himself, as he walked down the hall with hertoward the refectory. You know how earnest she is. "We aremarried, Elinore," he pointed out, "and married couplesfrequently do the . . . well, they do."

She stopped and whispered in his ear. "I'm sorry I was so noisythis morning."

I'm not, he thought. "It's all right, my love. The walls are thick.Tell you what, though: if you don't want anyone to suspect thatwe've been doing the deed, you'd better try not to walk sobow-legged."

To his utter delight, she gasped, then collected herself, and beathim over the head with her medical satchel. "You are ascoundrel!" she said, and started to laugh. Impulsively he grabbedher around the waist, pulled her close, and kissed her with asmack loud enough to start Harper laughing at the other end ofthe hall, where he was replacing another window blown out byartillery during the previous summer's campaign.

"As you were, Private," Jesse ordered.

"You, too, sir, if I may be so bold," the private replied.

"You may not!" Jesse came closer, determined to keep the smileoff his face. "I might remind you, Private Harper, that any othercommander would throw you in the stockade after such aninsubordinate comment."

Harper nodded and then carefully applied the glass to the frame."Sir, begging your pardon again, but you are not any othercommander." His face became serious again. "Chief, that Frog isstill alive." He looked out the window he was repairing. "And thesun's out."

"Time for Number Eight to sally forth. Harper?"

"Yes, sir. Wilkie is watching from the bell tower, just in caseanyone moves out on the road from Salamanca." He looked atJesse again, a question in his eyes. "Suppose no one comes fromSalamanca? No telling where Clausel, Soult, and Souham willmeet, is there, sir? It would be good for us if no one comes thisway, but not so good for our little hospital here. I mean, the Frogis better, but he still needs a surgeon, don't he? And what aboutthe others?"

I wish you could hear yourself, Harper, Jesse thought. I doubtyour real commander would even recognize you as that drunkinfantryman found headfirst in the latrine. "I have been thinkingthat very thing, Harper. I want to talk with you and Wilkie, butfirst I want to see our . . . uh, Frog."

Sister Maria Josefina rose from Barzun's bedside when he cameinto the refectory, nodded to him, and left quietly. Elinorehesitated, then went down the row to sit by the soldier with theburned arm. He sat down beside Barzun, took his hand, andpressed his fingers against the man's wrist. The pulse, steady andrhythmic now, made him smile. For good measure, he put theback of his hand against Barzun's forehead. "Buon dia, paisan,"he said. "You are cool, your pulse is steady. I suppose this meansyou are determined to live." He lifted the blanket, relieved to seeno swelling now beyond what he deemed as normal, consideringthe insult to Barzun's system. "The army has not paid me in sixmonths. Too bad I cannot charge you a whopping fee, CaptainBarzun. Oh, please don't do that." He took a cloth and wiped theFrench surgeon's eyes. "Let us just call this a professionalcourtesy, eh? I know you would have done the same for me."

He gave the surgeon a moment to collect himself. "You have putme in a delicate position, though. I won't call you free fromdanger yet, but I know I should leave before your army inSalamanca decides to move in this direction." He took a deepbreath. "I also know that our maestro would consider me a poor

graduate, indeed, if I abandoned you or your patients." Hescratched his head and looked at Elinore. "Truth to tell, I am notcertain that I could live with myself if I did leave. You see mydilemma."

"I do. If you'll permit me an observation, my friend, I think. Islept more last night than you did." After a lengthy pause inwhich his face grew red, Barzun smiled at him. "How nice toknow that the British army possesses at least one officer who stillblushes!"

"Philippe, that's not the issue here," he protested.

"In a way, it is. You have a deeply personal obligation to yourlovely wife, a professional one to your mangy soldiers, and . . .and a political one to Armand Leger that runs counter to yourstewardship of me and my patients."

Jesse stared at him in surprise. "You know who Leger is?"

"I'll wager there is not a person in France who does not. I canonly imagine how badly Napoleon would like to see him safe andsound in la belle France." He shrugged. "I can also imagine thatyou British would find him as an embarrassment for Napoleonand everything we French stand for." He laid his hand on Jesse'sarm. "I think you had better make a decision quickly, my friend."

How right you are, Jesse thought. He went into the hall, orderingHarper to find Wilkie. "Bring Leger, too, and smartly now," heordered. "Elinore, would you summon Sister Maria Josefina?" heasked when he came back into the refectory.

Everyone assembled quickly, which gave him a moment ofprivate satisfaction to know that he actually could convey theurgency of the situation in a military fashion, instead of in hisusual more diffident style. I only wish you would not look at meas though you expect a miracle, he thought as the members of themarching hospital pulled up stools to sit close to Barzun's cot.

"First of all, this will be a bit awkward," he began. "I will speak toyou in English, of course, and then translate to Italian forBarzun's benefit, and Sister Maria's. She must know what I amplanning, because it affects Santa Isabella." He looked at the twoprivates, who were as serious as he had ever seen them."Consider this an officers' call, but bear in mind that this retreathas made us all equal. I want your opinion. And yours, Elinore."He wished she sat closer, yearning for her as close as she was lastnight.

He outlined the dilemma in English and then in Italian. No onespoke. "As matters stand. I see few choices. Please listencarefully to what I am suggesting." And please understand me,my dearest, he thought. "I cannot leave these men unattended.No, Harper, hear me out! I have a commitment that goes beyondthis army. It's not something I can ignore. Let me finish, Wilkie.Privates, I am going to remain behind." He knew better than tolook at Elinore just then, and hurried on. "I expect you two to getmy wife, Armand Leger, and that French dispatch to CiudadRodrigo." In the awful silence, he repeated himself in Italian.

Barzun listened in disbelief, which gradually changed tounderstanding. "I understand this, Captain Randall, but think: Ifyou could get a letter to Salamanca, or send someone, therewould be a French surgeon here soon enough."

Jesse translated for the benefit of the others. "The Frog's right,Chief," Harper said, making no effort to mask the relief in hisvoice. "Send someone with a letter."

"Who, Harper, who?" he asked. "The nuns? I wouldn't dare sendthem into a city occupied by the French. Lorenzo the slow boy?You and I know he would be conscripted and put to hard labor.We've all seen it before. You or Wilkie? Never."

"Aye, we are such valuable soldiers," Harper said sarcastically.

"That is it precisely, Private," Jesse said, his voice crisp now. "I

am relying on you to get my wife to Ciudad Rodrigo. I know thatyou can and will, no matter what happens to me." He glanced atElinore, and wished he had not. She was in tears. "I either stayhere or I deliver that message. Either way, I know I will betreated well enough, but I also know I will be conscripted. Italways happens to surgeons. I see no other way out of this." Hetook a deep breath. "Do you, Elinore?"

In a moment of absolute clarity, he knew what she would say.After last night, he knew her body, but he had known her mindand character for many years. What a woman I have married, hethought as she shook her head-

"I hate it, Jesse," she said, her voice barely audible.

"But you understand."

"I do." The words sounded like they were ripped right out of herthroat.

Armand Leger started to chuckle. Everyone looked at him. "Ihave a better idea, Captain Randall. In fact, it is a much betteridea. I will go. I will deliver your message about the men here,and Clausel will send a surgeon. What could be simpler?"

"But . . ."

"No, Captain." Leger held up his hand. "I know they willapprehend me and whisk me back to France, probably amid greatrejoicing." He permitted himself another laugh. "The marshalshave done so poorly here against your damned Wellington that Idaresay my retrieval will be the high point of their shorteningcareers!"

Elinore was at Leger's side now, clinging to his arm. "You havetold me—told us all—how much you despise Napoleon and whathe has come to. Why this?"

He touched her face. Jesse swallowed, moved to his heart by the

tenderness he saw there. "Cherie, perhaps I am doing this forEugenie and Charlotte. Perhaps they will rest a little easier,knowing that their papa has not entirely turned his back on hisfoolish countrymen, and by extension, them." He glanced at theothers, and settled his gaze on Philippe Barzun. "Bonaparte willnot last forever in power. I hear he is in Russia now. Imagine thefoolishness! When he is gone—and he will be—maybe Francewill need an old revolutionary who is now amazingly wise." Heturned to Jesse. "You have other things to do, Captain, and theydo not involve remaining here. Write me a letter. I will take itimmediately. I can guarantee you a surgeon at Santa Isabella bynightfall."

I should argue with him, Jesse thought, but there was no denyingthe lift to his heart. A glance at Elinore told him her answer asclearly as if she had shouldered her way to his side and grabbedhim by his uniform front. "I'll write you a letter, monsieur."

He wrote the letter, describing each injury as he found it. andoutlining both Barzun's treatments and his own. He signed thedocument with a flourish, allowing himself to hope that sinceArmand Leger was the messenger, perhaps the French wouldleave Number Eight alone, now that they had the oldrevolutionary in their grasp.

After Elinore sanded and sealed the letter, Jesse gave it to Leger."Here you are, monsieur. We will leave immediately. Sister Mariatold me of a less traveled road from Salamanca to CiudadRodrigo." He tapped the letter. "Buy time for us today if you can.monsieur, but there must be another surgeon here soon."

"I will do that, Captain," Leger said. He pocketed the letter andswirled his cloak around his shoulders. "Be honest. You are notsorry to see me go."

"No, I am not," he said frankly, "but it does not follow that I wishyou ill. Go with God, monsieur." He took his hand. "I hope you

find what you are after." Just words, Jesse thought as he watchedLeger fold Elinore into a tight embrace. No, I don't dislike you,but I am tired of you and this endless war. Well, every revolutionhas its victims.

Saying good-bye to Philippe Barzun proved more difficult. Hetook one last stroll through the refectory, checking a bandagehere, listening to another's respirations there, until he came to thesurgeon, who had been watching him with no little amusement.

"These are my patients, Captain Randall," Barzun reminded him,and touched his hand. "When I am home in Grenoble—pray itwill be this winter—I will write our maestro in Milan and tell himthat although you are proprietary, like most Englishmen, you area worthy graduate."

I can keep it light, too, Jesse told himself. "Proprietary, eh? May Iask which of our commanders has thought to go to Russia, if wecan believe the rumors? I doubt Tsar Alexander invited him."

They smiled at each other with perfect understanding. Jesseleaned forward suddenly and kissed Barzun's forehead. "I willwrite you a letter in Grenoble, my friend," he said. "I will tell youhow Elinore and I are doing in Dundee." If we make the border. Why do men and women keep making plans, even during war?He couldn't say any more, so he turned on his heel and left theroom.

The others were already mounted in the courtyard. "My littlearmy," he said, and Harper and Wilkie grinned at him. Elinoresmiled at him in a way that made him feel warm, and blew him akiss. Sister Maria Josefina handed him a bag with bread andcheese after he swung into the saddle. "Oh, Sister, I am certainyour need is equal to ours," he said in protest, but knew betterthan to argue when she narrowed her eyes and glared at him. Heturned to the others. "My dears, I believe it is time to shake thedust of Spain off our boots."

Harper regarded Wilkie. "Gor, Private, when was you anyone'sdear?" he teased.

"I disremember," the other private mumbled. He turned cheerfuleyes to Jesse. "Lead on, Cap! We follow."

Elinore had ample time to reflect on Wilkie's words. The roadthat paralleled the Salamanca highway was more of a cow trail.They moved single file through a bleak landscape. Never much ofa rider, she was forced to concentrate on the trail ahead. Harperrode first, followed by her husband, who cut no real dash onhorseback, either. Wilkie followed her, and he sang as he rode.

During their noon stop, just as the rain started again, she askedhim where he learned his songs. "I listen to the sergeants' wives,miss," he told her, then blushed and was silent.

Her father had told her once that the army was family to roughmen like Wilkie and Harper. It has been family to me, too, shethought as she looked around her at the others. She knew herhusband came from a different world. She huddled close to himas he shared his cloak with her and the rain beat down. For thetiniest moment she allowed herself to think of Dundee. Imaginethe novelty of raising children in a house, she thought. Shenudged Jesse. "Do you have servants in Dundee?"

"There's just a housekeeper and her husband now," he said. "Hekeeps the place trim, and she cooks." He tightened his armaround her. "We can have a maid or two, once I set up myprivate practice. Would you like that?"

"It would be heaven, I think," she said. "I could probably loungein bed until seven in the morning, couldn't I?"

When he didn't answer, she looked at him, then wondered whyhe appeared so solemn. "Oh, dear. Perhaps only until six and ahalf, then," she suggested. "But I would like roast goose atChristmas, if we could."

"Done, madam," he replied. His voice still sounded strange, buthe hugged her even tighter, and she did not think he was angrywith her for asking.

They encountered outriders from Clausel's army as night fell, asmall patrol moving along and talking to each other, unmindful ofanyone else, their approach muffled by the rain. An urgent wordfrom Harper, and they turned off the path and into the trees todismount and wait behind some boulders. Before she was awareof what he was doing, Jesse had moved her tight against theboulder and put his cloak around them both again. When sherealized that he was covering her body with his to protect herfrom gunfire, she wanted to remind him that of the two of them,he was more valuable to Wellington's army.

He must think I am a trivial woman, she told herself as sherelaxed into the safety of his arms and body. "Jesse, it doesn'treally matter about a Christmas goose," she whispered. "That'snot important now, is it?"

"You're the goose," he whispered back. "Wait until I get you toDundee."

She closed her eyes, pressed her hands against the rock, andrested her face against her hands. He moved closer, until theywere breathing together. He was so close that she began to thinkabout last night and how perfectly logical and right theirlovemaking had seemed. As she enjoyed the gentle pressure ofhis body against hers, she couldn't help think that the workings offate were strange, indeed. Three weeks ago, it was just going tobe another dreary retreat from Spain, like so many others. Hermother's death had begun all manner of consequences, rightdown to the delicious experience of practically turning herselfinside out half the night for this quiet man who was ready toprotect her from armies. She found herself trying to smother herlaughter now, quite undone by the reality that life was so bizarreat times.

"What is the matter?" Jesse asked, his lips next to her ear.

"You would never believe me," she told him.

"Oh, I would," he whispered. "You know, you could turn aroundand raise your skirt, and we could try this standing up, but I dobelieve we'd scare the horses."

He put his hand over her mouth when she started to laugh, andheld it there until Harper gave a low whistle and stepped awayfrom the boulder. "A close one, sir," he said.

"I'll say," Jesse replied. He winked at Elinore.

"She hysterical, sir?" Harper asked, his concern undeniable.

"No, no. Something more mundane than that. Well! Harper, Isuggest we get off the road. Find us a place, will you?"

He did, a ruined stone outbuilding whose only virtue appeared tobe a slate roof that looked old enough and strong enough to havekept out Noah's rain of forty days and forty nights. The othervirtue was that it was large enough for the horses, too. Harpergrained the animals, then showed Jesse the empty bag.

"I think we're about to reach the Douro, Private," he said.

Harper moved closer. "D'ye think there's a bridge left, sir?"

"Certainly." Jesse looked at her. "Very well, Elinore," he said, hisembarrassment obvious. "You are right to glare at me, so I'll sayit out loud: I would be surprised if Clausel or Soult were notalready in possession of it."

"That's plain enough," Harper said, and busied himself with thehorses.

She woke early in her husband's arms. They had burrowed closetogether in the night, seeking warmth, and he had pushed his facedeep into her hair. She thought of her parents then, and theirstrange hand-to-mouth life following the drum from India, to

Canada, to Spain. Mama had told her once how proud she was ofCaptain Mason in his regimentals when the army marched inreview. I will miss the life a little, she thought, but not enough toyearn for it. I have seen enough marching. Jesse says that theFrench cannot remain long in the Peninsula, and someday thewar will end. She sighed, wondering if she could manage evenanother five minutes of it.

Jesse stirred when she sighed. "What are you thinking of?" hewhispered

"My father. I suppose he is near Lisbon by now, and the lines."She raised up on her elbow. "I am not so certain I will know whatto say to him, when I see him."

"Can you be generous with him?"

It was a good question, one for which she had no answer. Jesseseemed to require none. He smiled at her, and she was content tolie beside him and wait for the sun to rise. Her eyes were closingagain when she took a deep breath, held it, and then slowly let itout. There was no mistaking it: campfires.

She glanced at her husband, who was deep in sleep again.Holding her breath, she rose to her feet, moving slowly so as notto startle the horses. She sidled up to the window and peered out,allowing her eyes a moment to adjust to the early dawn. Oh, God,she thought, her hand over her mouth.

Daylight revealed that they had camped at the edge of anabandoned village, hardly more than a collection of houses. Shewas no judge of distances, but French soldiers had camped at theother end of the desolate street, close enough for her to smell thefragrance of their breakfast campfire. She sniffed again. Theywere cooking sausages.

As she watched, horrified, one of the soldiers rose from his placeby the fire and walked toward their ruined cottage. Her tongue

seemed too large for her mouth, and she wondered if she couldeven warn her companions. She pulled herself away from thewindow, and watched out of the merest corner of it as hestopped, unbuttoned his trousers, and urinated. Unable to lookaway, she watched as he finished his chore, shook himself,buttoned his trousers, and ambled back to the fire.

On her hands and knees, she crawled to Jesse, put her hand justover his mouth, and touched his shoulder. He woke immediately."The French," she whispered. "They camped for the night justbeyond us."

Wilkie must have been awake, because he prodded Harper. In asecond, the two of them crouched next to her. Jesse lay stillwhere he was. "I smelled a campfire," she whispered.

"How many?" Wilkie asked.

"Ten?" she replied, uncertain.

"A patrol," Harper said. Moving quietly for a big man, he went tothe window and raised up slowly. "Chasseurs," he said as hereturned to their little group. "I don't see their horses."

No one said anything. Elinore looked from one man to the other,and back to Jesse, who appeared no more than thoughtful. "Dosomething!" she wanted to shriek, until reason righted itself. Ifthey can be calm, I can be calm, she told herself, even as shestarted to shake. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

Silently, Jesse took her by the arm and walked her behind thehorses. The other two followed as he sat her down in the farthestcorner from the door and the window, and wrapped her cloakaround her. As the men she had come to know so well sat in frontof her, fear was replaced with comfort. They are ready to defendme with their lives, she thought in wonder.

Jesse spoke first. "Private Wilkie, I have observed that you aresomewhat resourceful," he said. "You have also informed us—

and we have seen your handiwork—that you specialize indiversion."

"Aye, sir," Wilkie said promptly. He glanced at Harper. "It's not anew calling."

"I didn't think so. Have you and Harper been partners for long?"

"Aye, sir." Wilkie leaned closer, after looking around, perhaps tomake sure the French weren't listening. "We worked the Strand,Captain: I did the diverting, and 'arry did the plucking."

Elinore could see that in spite of their desperate situation, Jessewas hard put not to smile. "Dare I hope that patriotism led you toabandon the criminal life for the army?"

Harper grinned. "Not a bit of it, Chief! I got caught by a Runner,and the magistrate gave us the choice: Botany Bay or the king'sshilling."

"Wilkie, too?"

" 'e didn't catch me!" Wilkie said, and there was no mistaking thepride in his voice. He shrugged. "But what's a good diversionwithout a cutpurse to follow through?"

"What, indeed?" Jesse asked. "My dear Wilkie, do you think youcould find the chasseurs' horses and liberate them withoutcausing suspicion?"

The private thought a moment. "Piece o'cake, sir."

"Make it look like the Frogs just tied a poor knot? We can't havethem even suspecting we are about."

"I can do it. A little rain would help, though."

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when rain began tofall. With an expression that Elinore could only call beatific,Wilkie looked upward in surprise.

"Don't even say it," Jesse warned. "I am no expert, but I do notbelieve the Almighty humors miscreants when He has nothingbetter to do."

Wilkie smiled, obviously unconvinced. "I was saved once in aMethodist street meeting. Maybe it took, Captain. C'mon, 'arry."

The two of them crept back to the window. Wilkie positionedhimself by the door, and Harper raised up just enough to see out.Both men were perfectly still, almost to the limit of Elinore'spatience, then Harper gave a little grunt, and Wilkie vanished.Elinore blinked. "Jesse, I'm amazed," she said.

Her husband nodded. "London must be a safer place, with thesetwo in Spain. A wealthier one, certainly."

He moved closer to her. Harper remained by the window,watching, then moved back to them. "We'd better saddle thesehorses now, really quiet-like," he said. "No telling how longWilkie will take, but once the Frenchies leave their camp, we'dbetter be ready to ride."

"You seem pretty confident about Wilkie," Elinore said.

Harper sat up a little straighter. "Gor, Mrs. Randall, Wilkie's anexpert."

Saddling gave them something to do. Elinore stood by one of thehorses, patting his long nose to keep him quiet while Jesse andHarper tightened the cinch, then moved on to the next animal.She knew the horses were hungry, and prayed they would notcatch the scent of other horses, and try to strike up an equineconversation.

Time passed; she grew drowsy again. She was just nodding off,leaning against Jesse's shoulder, when he tensed. She opened hereyes to see Harper waving at them. "They've left the clearing,Captain."

Alert now, Elinore watched the door, but Wilkie appeared almostbefore she was aware. Not even breathing hard, he went to Jesse."You call us poor troopers, Captain, but the chasseurs didn't evenhave a guard on the horses." He looked at Harper. " 'ow do theyplan to conquer the world? I'm sure / don't know."

In a matter of minutes, they led the horses from the cottage,mounted, and struck out across country to avoid even the cowpath they had followed. They rode in earnest now, everyonesilent, intent, watchful. Wilkie led, scouting the path. When theystopped a few hours later, he rode ahead to the closestpromontory. He was even more serious than usual when hereturned as the others prepared to mount.

"What did you see?" Jesse asked.

"The whole army, sir." He scratched his head, not happy to bethe bearer of evil tidings. "They're between us and the river.What's more, there is a little dust to the south and east." Hegrimaced. "Not much dust. We've had too much rain for that. Ithink that Clausel and Soult haven't joined yet.''

Jesse nodded. '"So we have nine thousand troops in front of us,instead of twenty thousand. That relieves my mind, Private." Helooked around. "I propose that we move north and westupstream. Perhaps there is a ford."

The rain stopped. They traveled into a raw afternoon, crossingone small bridge over a nameless tributary of the Douro, only toretrace their movement and tug their horses underneath the bank.Silent, shivering in knee-deep water, they listened as a regimentof infantry passed overhead, all moving toward the Douro,seeking Clausel's army. Darkness had never seemed so welcome,the rain such a blessing.

Their search for a ford or another bridge took them far from theSalamanca Road. Every slow plop of the horses' hooves tauntedElinore that they were foolish to dream that their army of four

could ever reach the comparative safety of Ciudad Rodrigo'sbattered walls. She wanted to rein in her horse and just sit thereand cry, except that she refused to be the first to give up.

The sun was setting as they rode toward the Douro again, farupstream from the Roman bridge where armies had crossed forcenturies. A path took them single file down the slipperyapproach where the river had cut deep into the bank. As theymoved so slowly along the trail now, she could only gulp andlook away from the river, swollen by the heavy rains of autumn,the water gathering speed as it raced toward the rocky gorgeabove the Roman bridge.

"God bless us, will you look at that, Captain?"

" 'pon my word, Harper, is that a ferry?"

It was. What's more, the large raft, bobbing on the current, wasconveniently tied to a dock. Elinore let out her breath in a sigh ofrelief and started to edge her horse forward. To her dismay, Jessegrabbed the reins from her hands. "Let Wilkie go first, my love."he said. "This is just entirely too easy." He put the reins into herhands again. "I suppose that matrimonial cares have made me achanged man. Next thing you know, I'll ... oh, what is this?"

She peered closer at the open door where Wilkie stood now,motioning them closer. Another man stood silhouetted there aswell, a form so familiar that she didn't know whether to laugh orcry. I'm dreaming, she thought, until Jesse slapped her horse andset her in motion.

"Go on, Elinore," he told her. "Isn't it fun to be proved wrongnow and then?"

She didn't need any further urging. When her tired horse slowedhis pace, she lifted her leg out of the saddle and jumped down.With a cry of delight she ran between the dock and theferryman's house and threw herself into her father's arms.

"Nellie, surely you didn't think I would abandon you?" BertieMason said as he held her close.

Chapter SeventeenShe clung to her father. "I didn't know. How could I, Papa?"

He tightened his grip. "You ask a very good question, my dear. IfI had an adequate answer, probably none of this would havehappened."

He released her from his embrace, and with an arm around hershoulder, led her into the house. Wilkie grinned at her from hisplace in front of the fire, where he warmed his hands. In anotherminute Harper came through the door, followed by her husband.

"Dare we hope that you have commandeered the ferry?"

That's not much of a greeting, Elinore thought. There was nomistaking the wariness in Jesse's words. She knew of her father'slegendary thick skin—how else could he have skated so nimblythrough the army for so many years?—but the words grated like abone saw. She looked at her father. This is where you usuallyleave the room, she thought. I've never known you to faceanything unpleasant a minute longer than necessary.

He surprised her by looking Jesse in the eye. "I am going to haveto prove myself, am I not, sir?" he asked.

"You are," Jesse replied, his voice as hard as flint. "Your pastactions put your daughter in deep peril, Captain Mason. You'vesecured the ferry?" he asked again.

Jesse looked at her then, and in the look she saw all his love andlonging, and the strain he had been under, trying to see his little

army to safety and still preserve that part of himself thatdemanded a higher level of obedience to medicine. Withoutcomplaint, for three weeks he had done things she could neverdo. The sacrifice of his own peaceful inclinations for a woman ofbreathtaking insignificance and two nondescript soldiers struckher with the force of a slap.

She left her father's side and walked to her husband. "Let me takeyour coat," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, her handscalm, when she wanted to grab him and never let go. "I can drapeit over this chair by the fire. Harper, have we any food? Youknow how the Chief likes toasted cheese, and no one toasts itbetter than you."

Her calm words seemed to soothe the situation. Bertie managed alight bow. "The ferry is mine. I bought the use of it for a week,and the services of the ferryman. Captain, I am amazed howmany of our erstwhile allies are reluctant to take a governmentchit."

There was something in the offhand way he said it that madeJesse smile. "Do you suppose, sir, that the Spanish are as tired ofus as we are of them?"

It was a good start, Elinore reasoned. She looked at her father,and for a change, he did not fail her. "Too true, Captain, tootrue." He made an apologetic face. "As much as it pained me,when he would not honor a government chit, I was forced to payhim in pounds sterling." He smiled at his daughter. "Imagine that,Nell, if you can."

She could not. Her jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide, toBertie Mason's obvious amusement. He put his hand to his heart,and she saw a little of the old actor in him. "Do I see a certaindisbelief in your eyes—aren't they lovely, Captain Randall? Shetakes after me—that I actually have two coins to rub together?"

"It astounds me, sir," Jesse replied frankly.

Mason laughed. "Too much reclamation in the last chapter is thestuff of bad novels, Captain! I fear I am too old for reform of apermanent nature. Forgive me, my dear daughter. Let us bask inthis temporary virtue as long as possible, and let us do it overdinner." He turned toward the fireplace, hesitated a second, thenturned around suddenly and took her by the arms again. When hespoke, his voice held no assurance, no polish, no Bertie Masondash, no pluck. "I did not know that I would ever see you again,Nell," he said, his voice so filled with genuine emotion that herheart seemed to stop.

She put her hands on each side of his face and kissed him. "Papa,I was in excellent hands, truly I was." She sighed and looked atJesse, only to have to adjust her gaze again when her husbandseemed to be struggling, too. She took a deep breath. "PrivateHarper, do let us see to that cheese. Papa, did you make soup?"

Wilkie located spoons while Harper toasted the cheese. Elinorestood with her back to the fire, lifting her sodden skirts, until herfather called them to the table. With a flourish, he sat them down,and gestured for them to begin. No one argued.

Harper started on his second bowl, and Jesse finally set down hisspoon when Bertie Mason cleared his throat. "It was the worstretreat imaginable," he began. "Two of our darling generals evengot lost, if you can imagine such a thing, and there were theFrench, chewing at our heels. Captain, your hair will curl—well,yours is already curled— when you finally get to readWellington's memo to the army." He shuddered elaborately. "Noone knew where anyone was, and I suppose we all assumed thatyou were safe somewhere."

''Assume. I do hate that word now," Jesse murmured.

"The regiment was beyond Ciudad Rodrigo before anyonequestioned the whereabouts of Number Eight," Mason said. Hislively expression grew somber then. "It probably would have

been weeks before we knew, except that Major Bones just had togloat. I suppose it is the nature of bullies." He looked down at thetable. "We drank together one night. My apologies, Elinore, but Itold you I am not a reformed man."

She made some motion with her hand, then allowed Jesse to takeit and hold it. He kissed her fingers, then put her hand on his legin a possessive gesture she knew he would never have dreamedof doing two weeks ago.

"He told me what happened, gloating and laughing. God damnthe man!" Mason said, not disguising his bitterness. " 'Thatsurgeon thought he was so clever,' he told me. 'He thinks he canhave her, and you thought you could make me a laughingstock,Mason, by paying me back like that.' " Mason rose suddenly. "Ihumiliated him, he said."

"Did you mention this to General Picton or Sir Arthur?" Jesseasked.

Mason shook his head. Red spots burned in his cheeks. "Do youknow anyone in the army who takes Bertie Mason seriously?"

"No, I do not," Jesse replied. "You assumed they wouldn't believeyou."

"Yes," Mason said, his voice equally frank. "I have said howdisorganized the retreat was. I am certain that General Pictonwould have laughed, patted my shoulder—you know how he is—and told me to give it a few days when we were all together inLisbon again."

"I can see that, sir," Jesse agreed. "Just wait a few more days, andthen Number Eight would probably materialize." He leanedforward across the table. "Do you know that Bones is directlyresponsible for the death of Surgeon Sheffield, and the ruin of aSpanish family?"

"Sir, if you'll pardon me, he almost got us all killed," Harper

added.

"Dear God," Mason said. He paused a moment to collect hisemotions. "I feared as much." He smiled, but there was no humorin it. "What do I generally do in extreme distress? Besides drinkmyself into a wrinkled wad?"

"Cards," Elinore said at once.

"Exactly. I knew I needed some money, if I was going to go backto Spain."

"I would suggest you also needed some permission, Captain,"Jesse said dryly.

"You may, but we can't have everything, can we?"

Elinore gasped. "Papa, are you on French leave?"

"Just a brief one, daughter."

"For me?"

She knew that if she lived to be old, blind, and toothless, shewould never forget the look he gave her. "For you alone." Neverone to invest in too many solemn moments, he winked at Jesse."Oh, perhaps for you, too, but let me say here that no father everlooks with total approval on the man who beds his daughter. Anddon't you forget that!"

Jesse laughed, even as his face turned crimson. He movedElinore's hand higher up his leg. "My blushes, Captain. I say, mayI call you Bertram?"

"Yes, if we have advanced that far ... Jesse." He looked around atthem. "I told that bastard Bones I would play cards. I still hadthat ten pounds extra that you gave me."

"I believe it was twenty pounds, Bertram."

"Why must surgeons be so damned exact? I passed a number of

wineries on the road to Ciudad Rodrigo."

"Obviously not without stopping."

"I played and I won, and I got up from the table with mywinnings. The ferryman has a heavy pouch of sovereigns, and thepromise of more, if he will ferry us and be silent. I have beenhere four days, wondering if you would arrive before theFrench."

"Only just," Jesse said. "I recommend a departure with thedawn."

"I couldn't agree more." Mason laughed. "This place is slowindeed. The wine is gone, the river seems to be rising, and theferryman reeks of garlic from every pore."

"Poor Papa," Elinore said.

"Do you know what we will find on the other side of the Douro?"

"The French, I fear. The ferryman's uncle is watching for us onthe opposite bank—Lord, he was expensive. He says the Frogshave crossed, but seem indecisive about advancing on CiudadRodrigo yet again. The armies appear not to be joined yet."

"A good run will get us into Rodrigo?"

"I think so, Jesse." Bertie touched his shoulder. "We shouldretire. You and Elinore will have the room beyond. I will split thewatch with your soldiers here in the front room." He yawned. "Ihave been trying to stay awake. I wish we could eventuallyengage in a war where we could entirely trust our allies."

"I could watch, too," Jesse said.

"You could," Mason replied in a low voice, "but the way youkeep inching my daughter's hand up your leg makes me suspectthat, good intentions aside, you would be useless." He winked atElinore. "I'm certain I did not suspect that our quiet little surgeon

would be a Don Juan. Nell, I hope you are not disappointed howthings have turned out."

"Quite the contrary, Papa."

He clutched her hand. "I did not do anything right."

She thought of the years behind her: following the drum, forcedto be the adult in the Mason family, working in the marchinghospital to equalize family debts real or imagined and the scorn ofother officers' families. I could be bitter, she thought, and noteven Jesse would blame me. I could argue successfully that Ihave learned more of virtue and character from both of NumberEight's surgeons rather than from my own parents. I can also becharitable.

"No, Papa, you did not," she said quietly, "but it doesn't followthat I am the poorer for it." She looked at his hand in hers, andrested her cheek against it. "You came to find us. What moreproof do I need of your affection for me?"

The door had hardly closed behind them when Jesse took her inhis arms. He kissed her, held her out from him as though for agood look, then pulled her close again, close enough to suggest toher that neither of them would be on their feet much longer. Shecould have wished for a bath, or a pretty nightgown, or even justa brush, but wasn't sure that any of it mattered much to herhusband. She thought he would not object when she pulled awayto unbutton her dress, but he kept her close.

"I must confess to a dreadful lie, Elinore," he told her.

"You would never lie to me," she contradicted. She could at leastunbutton his shirt, if he didn't want to pull away.

"I did, back there in the dead tent when we were married. Mindthe neckcloth, Elinore. It's the only one I have left. When youasked if I would agree to let you make up your mind at thePortuguese border, I said yes." He moved back a little to

unbutton her dress. "I didn't mean it." He stopped to look into hereyes, and then kissed her neck. "You already know that."

"Oh, I do." She looked down at him and smiled. "Jesse, I thinkone of us should unbutton your trousers. I have no needle andthread. If you pop those buttons, you will look more unsoldierlythan usual."

He laughed, his hand over his mouth. "Get in bed, Elinore. Time'swasting."

She did as he said, and welcomed him inside her body with herusual earnest generosity. She knew he was tired, but he took histime, making sure that she climaxed first. When he came, shepressed her hands hard against the small of his back, with her lipsto his ear as he muttered something into her neck.

He was in no hurry to leave her. "If I get heavy, just push me off,but Elinore, you feel so good, I hope you won't. Am I making anysense?"

"None whatsoever," she whispered back. "Is that common, attimes like this?"

"I fear so. You will think you have married a gibbering idiot."

She laughed softly, adoring his warmth and the altogetherseductive realization that she had the surgeon's full attention. Sherested her legs on his. "Possessive, are we?" he asked, his voicedrowsy.

"Most certainly, my dear," she replied. "I have observed you inthe hospital for several years, and the reality is not lost on methat you have very little free time." She ran her feet up and downhis legs several times, and felt herself growing warm again, andanxious. "Oh, do humor me," she gasped.

He humored her.

Morning brought leaden skies, but no rain. She lay in bed and

listened to the roar of the river. Jesse was already awake anddressed. "Up, my dear," he said, buttoning his uniform jacket. Hesat down beside her and ran his hand along her bare shoulder."Just think. You married me and got an exciting honeymoon tripthrough a foreign country, visited royalty, and improved yourlanguage skills. Now we have a voyage ahead, and perhaps areception on the other shore."

She sat up, dragging the blanket around her shoulders. 'What willhappen to us?"

He kissed her forehead. "That, my love, will depend entirelyupon the French."

She feared a mishap on the ferry, but there was none. When theywere across, her father gave the ferryman his last handful ofsovereigns. They followed their usual order of march, her fatherincluded this time, traveling single file down the narrow cow trailon the other side of the Douro. The closer they came to the river,the more French troops they saw on that opposite bank. Some ofthe fusiliers fired, but the balls fell short.

She remembered the Douro well from other crossings, and knewthat soon they would reach the broad flood plain barren ofsheltering trees. She looked around her at the companions of theretreat, observing their alert watchfulness, their silence, and theway they set their lips tighter, the closer they came to the plain.Tonight we will be inside the walls of Ciudad Rodrigo, she toldherself. Her father took the lead from Harper, and led them at anoblique angle away from the river. She could hear the waterboiling in the gorge now, and knew the Roman bridge wasbeyond the bend. She raised up in her saddle and strained for alook at Ciudad Rodrigo, and there it was.

The next sequence of events happened so quickly that she knewshe could never reconstruct them exactly, even if a wiggedbarrister had demanded a deposition. As the sun came out, she

saw a flash of light and glanced to her left along the riverbankthey were riding away from. The others had seen the soldiers,too, half hidden in the trees.

She saw the flash of a sword, and the guns fired. She screamed asHarper reeled in his saddle and clutched the pommel. Withouthesitation and already fumbling in his medical satchel, Jesse rodeto him. Her father grabbed her reins and tugged them, indicatingthat she follow him. Wil-kie immediately rode beside her to coverher from the tree line.

"Down here," Mason called, and she followed him down anembankment, fighting to keep her seat as her horse slid on hishaunches. Harper was already on the ground, his back against theembankment as Jesse applied pressure to his bleeding arm.Elinore threw herself down beside him and pulled a pressurebandage from her satchel. He grabbed it, crammed it into thewound, and raised his neck so she would take off his neckcloth.He smiled his thanks and bound Harper's arm tight.

"Are you all right?" she asked the private.

He nodded, but he spoke to Jesse, his tone apologetic. "Weshouldn't have been caught by that, Chief."

"I suppose not. Can you ride?"

"Better'n ol' Wilkie on 'is best day, sir."

It was a feeble joke, but Wilkie laughed. " 'arper, you're a liar,and I'll prove you wrong. Watch me, 'arry."

A look passed between the two friends that set warning bellsjangling in her head. "Please don't," she started to say, but theevent was beyond her before the words left her mouth. Wilkiebegan to back up his horse along the embankment.

"Get on your horse, Mrs. Randall," Harper ordered. "You, too,Chief. Now!"

She obeyed the private without question, forced into obedienceby the look in his eyes. She did not dare glance at Wilkie becauseshe knew what he was going to do. "Don't, Wilkie," shewhispered as her father threw her back into her saddle. His facewhite, Jesse helped Harper onto his horse and mounted his own.He turned to speak to Wilkie, but it was too late. After a wink atHarper, the private rode his horse out of the embankment at agallop, slapping the animal hard with the reins, and dashedtoward the river.

"My God! He'll be killed!" Jesse exclaimed. He gathered his reinsin his hands.

"He told you once that the only military lesson he everremembered was a diversion, Chief. Remember?" Harpershouted, his voice tight with pain. "He's trying to buy you a life!"

The guns went off, and Elinore burst into tears. When the gunscontinued to pop all along the line of skirmishers, Harper grabbedher reins from her with his good hand. "He's not making it easyfor them Frogs, and I wish you and the Chief would move!"

"I can't leave him to die," Jesse said. "I have to do something!"

"No, I do," Bertie Mason said. Crouching over his horse, he rodetoward Jesse and grabbed his sleeve.

"Let go of me!"

"No! Private Harper, do your duty with this stubborn man. I'vebeen a captain longer than he has, and I outrank him. Here, I'llmake it easier."

Her heart in her throat, Elinore watched as her father whippedout his sabre and struck her husband on the temple with it. Jesse'seyes rolled back in his head, and he fell forward across thepommel of his saddle. Without missing a beat, Mason slung himonto Harper's lap. He looked back at Elinore. "Pity to do that tomy only son-in-law. Do name one of your sons after me." He

tipped his hand to her and rode out of the embankment.

Harper, his face wet with tears, clamped his bleeding arm overhis captain, and nosed his horse forward. "Mrs. Randall, you rideat an angle toward the city. I'll be right behind you. Don't stop foranything."

Numb, she nodded, took a deep breath, and dug her heels into hermount. I can't do this, she told herself as she did it. She screamedagain when the French guns roared, but they were not directed ather or Harper. Her last view of her father, before she focused herentire mind, sight, and energy on Ciudad Rodrigo, was the sightof him kneeling over Wilkie and then pulling his horse downbeside him.

She must have hesitated, because Harper growled something ather. She gave him the coldest glare she could mus-ter, butredoubled her efforts, even though it pained her heart to flog hertired mount with the riding crop her father had thrust at herbefore she rode out of the embankment.

The firing stopped when the French troops lost the range, butHarper was relentless in prodding her forward. The city gateopened when she and Harper reached the causeway. Her mindbarely registered the new walls and the number of soldiers liningthe ramparts who were cheering them. Oh, don't, she wanted totell them. We have lost so much.

Once safely inside the walls, Elinore leaped from her horsewithout waiting for assistance and hurried to Harper, who by nowwas leaning low over the body of his chief surgeon, his wholearm crimson from the shoulder down. She stood there, handscradling her husband's head as he dangled, insensible, across theprivate's lap.

General Picton himself rushed up. "Great Neptune's soggy balls!"he roared. "What on earth?"

"Marching Hospital Number Eight, reporting for duty," Harpersaid. "Better late than never," he managed to say before the tearscame. Elinore reached up to touch his foot in the stirrup.

Picton gestured, and two soldiers gently removed Jesse fromHarper's lap. "It's all right, lad," the general said as he helpedHarper from the saddle himself. "We saw most of it from theramparts. God's bloody wounds, we couldn't do a thing!" Helooked at Elinore and seemed to remember himself. "Begpardon." He peered closer. "Nell Mason, is it?"

She shook her head. "Elinore Randall now. Please, sir, can youtake them to the hospital?"

"We can and will, little lady." He turned to the lieutenanthovering close by. "Allenby, find this lady a quiet corner with abed and a fireplace."

"No. I will go with them," she said, her voice calm. "General, canyou tell me how soon someone will be able to retrieve the . . . theothers from the plain?"

Picton's aide-de-camp made a small gesture, and spoke quietly tohis commander, who nodded, his eyes troubled now. "As soon aswe can, my dear." He put his hand on her shoulder, and there wasno mistaking the tenderness of his expression. "I don't knowwhen I've seen such a brave display, Mrs. Randall. We can all beproud of Captain Mason."

"And Private Wilkie," she said, not even daring to look at Harper.

He nodded. General Picton stood in silence beside her as Jessewas lowered onto a stretcher. The surgeon's eyes fluttered, thenopened. He raised his hand, and Elinore came to his side and bentclose.

"He has a request, General," she said, stepping back.

"Find Major Bones," Jesse whispered. He tried to raise himself

up. "Find him now!"

She could tell that General Picton was startled by the fervency ofJesse's demand. "I'm certain that can be arranged, Captain, butsurely it can wait until you feel more . . ."

"Find him before I turn Private Harper loose to look." He laydown again, exhausted. "Or Elinore. We have a vast grievance,General."

Chapter EighteenShe finally allowed Picton's aide-de-camp to escort her to a guestroom after General Picton's personal physician assured her that

all Dr. Randall really needed now was to know that she wastaken care of. She kissed Jesse, and walked down the hall,

listening to Harper's strenuously insisting that he could wait fortreatment until Captain Randall felt well enough to sew his arm."I wonder who will win that argument, Mrs. Randall?" the ADC

asked, amused.

"Private Harper," she replied serenely.

"Surely you are wrong," he exclaimed.

"Private Harper, by all means."

She woke in late afternoon, gentled from sleep by a maid quietlydipping hot water into a tin tub. She allowed the woman to washher hair, then dismissed her and bolted the door so she couldbathe in peace and cry into the bathwater. Unable to stop herself,she suffered through a peculiar range of emotions from deepanger at her father, to helplessness in the fate of war, to a strangesense of comfort. Papa, if I ever had doubts about your love, theyare gone now, she thought.

She didn't know who to thank for the clean clothing. There wasalso a comb and brush, which only made her cry again for somereason. More than anything, she wanted to run down the hall tothe hospital and find her husband. Instead, she sat close to thefire and combed every knot and snarl out of her hair, which lefther scalp smarting.

She dressed quickly, eager to see Jesse. When she opened thedoor, she was surprised to see a sentry there. She stared at himdoubtfully. "I am not under arrest, am I?"

"No, ma'am," he assured her. "Captain Randall insisted on aguard. If you care to come with me, I will take you to him."

As they left the hall, she realized she was staying in guestchambers attached to the cathedral school of Ciudad Rodrigo.Soldiers swarmed everywhere. "Ours is the rear guard of theretreat," he explained. "The officers' ladies and camp followershave gone ahead to Lisbon and the lines."

"And the French at the Douro?"

He shrugged. "They seem reluctant to advance."

Then why did they even care about us, she thought bitterly andfelt her weariness returning. They crossed the courtyard insilence to the former guildhall, even now subject to the noise ofcarpenters and other mechanics. "Old Nosey aims to leave behinda substantial force." The sentry permitted himself a smile. "Whenwe return in the spring, I think he wants no more retreating."

At the guildhall, the sentry took her up a flight of stairs and pastan entire row of sentries until the door opened on divisionheadquarters. She sighed with relief to see Jesse sitting there, hisfeet propped on a hassock, a pillow behind his head. He looked ather, but his expression remained serious. Harper sat next to him,looking distinctly uncomfortable, the only private in a roomful ofbrass. Without thinking, she looked for Wilkie: her eyes filled

with tears.

General Picton sat behind his desk. The man seated in front ofhim turned around, and she stepped back involuntarily.

"Nell," he said.

"Major Bones, I am Mrs. Randall," she said when she collectedherself.

"Oh, yes. How could I forget?"

At a quiet word from Jesse, Private Harper moved the hassockbeside her husband's chair. She sat in it, after pushing it a littlecloser to him. She took his hand, chagrined to find it so cold. Shelooked at him, a question in her eyes, but she could not tell hisemotion.

General Picton cleared his throat. "Mrs. Randall, your husbandand Private Harper have been telling us quite a story about theretreat."

"Pardon me, General, it is no story," she said.

"They have made some harsh accusations against Major Boneshere." He sighed, and shifted some papers on his desk. "Granted,I find it hard to fathom how someone can misplace a marchinghospital, but I have been trying to argue that sometimes mistakeshappen during war, especially during retreats."

"Mistakes?" she said, half rising from the hassock.

"Yes, mistakes!" Major Bones declared. "You don't think I woulddeliberately abandon a hospital?"

"But you did! You did!" She looked at Jesse and Harper. "Whatis going on?"

"We're being corrected, my love," Jesse said, "and reminded thatsuch things do happen. Major Bones here has informed us thatwe have only your father's word that he ever owed him any

money, and reminds me that I never saw him loan Captain Masona tuppence." Jesse slapped the chair's arm with the flat of hishand, his eyes ferocious. "Don't glare at me, General Picton! Ifyou will not believe the loans that led to what Sheffield and I feltwe had to do to save Elinore's virtue, I cannot imagine you canoverlook the fact that this . . . this despicable beast was directlyresponsible for the death of Major Sheffield, an alcalde in a littlevillage, and the rape of that man's daughter!"

General Picton stood up suddenly and leaned across the desk. "Ihave never said I do not believe you, Captain Randall. I onlyremind you that Captain Mason himself must confirm thosedebts. Who else can verify what happened in that village nearBurgos? You know we won't be back there until summer next,and you have given me only hearsay." He turned troubled eyeson Major Bones. "The major steadfastly denies all your charges,and reminds me of his spotless record." He held out his hands toElinore. "All I am saying is that we must defer justice, in thisinstance."

"I am not satisfied," Jesse snapped.

Picton sat down heavily, rummaged on his desk, and held up thepages from Souham's saddlebags she had copied before they leftSantos. "I do appreciate these, and will forward themimmediately to Sir Arthur in Lisbon. You have surely done us agreat service." He glanced at Major Bones. "I will put a formalreprimand in your dossier about the misplacing of NumberEight."

"And I will respectfully deny that it was my fault, General. Theblame lies with the regimental commanders," Bones insisted. Helooked at Jesse and smiled. "I think it can be expunged easilyenough." He coughed. "I wouldn't want to air anyone's dirtylaundry, but it was general knowledge around the officers thatCaptain Randall had been wanting to find some way to convinceMiss Mason to marry him. Everyone knew he was in love with

her, but God knows he is shy. He was using me as an expedientto force her hand. Deny it, Randall."

The words hung ugly and heavy in the room. Elinore let out herbreath in a long sigh, unsure where to look.

"I never told anyone I was in love with Elinore Mason," Jessesaid finally, but she could hear the defeat in his voice.

"You didn't have to," Bones said softly. "You couldn't keep youreyes off her! At least it gave all of us something to chuckle aboutfor a few years."

I can't look at anyone in this room, Elinore thought as herstomach churned. Picton will not listen, and we have no proof ofanything against Bones until summer, providing Dan O'Leary andthe patients in Santos are still alive. She thought of the alcalde'sdaughter. Repeating her story to a military tribunal of Englishmenwould send her into the deepest dishonor possible for a Spanishwoman. She would never do it.

Elinore leaned back and forced herself to breathe calmly. Thealcaide's daughter! "Jesse, do you have your medical satchel? Theshoulder one?"

"It's in the hospital. But . . ."

"Harper, would you get it, please?" she asked. He left the roomon the run.

"Nell, Nell, it's all right," Major Bones said. "I can understandwhy you would all be upset at being abandoned. Too bad aboutyour father."

"Yes, it is too bad, isn't it?" she said, looking him in the eyesnow! "No one ever believes a drunk, a weak man. It's easier tolaugh and exploit him, isn't it?"

"My dear, I think we have lost this round," Jesse said, but it isn'tover."

She touched his face. "No, we haven't lost this round, my dear.You really have loved me for years?"

"You know I have," he replied, his eyes bright.

"You're wasting time, Nell," Bones said, as though he could readher mind. "I am certain General Picton has important things todo."

She held her hands tightly together to keep them from shaking."Major Bones, you are a menace, and I will prove it. Pleasehumor me, General Picton."

Picton nodded and sat back in his chair, his hands behind hishead. "I'm not as busy as you might think, Major Bones," he saidpleasantly.

They sat in silence, listening for Harper's footsteps. Eli-nore tookpleasure in the sight of perspiration rolling down Major Bones'face, even though the room was cool.

She heard the rattle of bottles in the satchel and tightened hergrip on Jesse's hand as Harper came thundering down the hall,only to be stopped by the sentries, who ordered him forward at asedate pace. Harper placed the satchel next to her. She opened itand took out the little wooden box with the glass containers.

"What are you looking for, Elinore?" Jesse asked.

"The permanganate of potassium, if you please. I wrapped thechit around it because the bottle rattled more than the others andI thought it might break."

"Here." He sucked in his breath. "My God, I forgot."

She took it out and untied the string binding the little paper to it."Do you want to do the honors?"

"Oh, no! You're the one who remembered it. Besides, I think awoman can give this argument its proper perspective."

With trembling fingers, Elinore unwrapped the little chit that thealcalde's daughter had handed her. She spread it out on GeneralPicton's desk as Major Bones rose from his chair.

"As you were, Major," the general ordered. He looked at Harper."Private, do summon a sentry." He glanced over at Bones. "Just aformality, Major. I am certain you have nothing to fear." He readthe chit. His face went pale. He looked at Elinore. "Please tell mehow you obtained this."

"The alcalde's daughter gave it to me," she said, not taking hereyes from Major Bones. "That man there who claims to be anofficer and a gentleman rolled it up and stuffed it in her mouthafter he ... he raped her. You can probably see the tooth marks ifyou look closely, sir. This was after he killed her father in front ofher eyes, but, of course, I cannot prove that. The murder can waituntil summer, I suppose, when we can produce a whole village ofwitnesses, but this fearful indignity to an ally need not wait."

General Picton read the note again, then folded it. "Major Bones,how unfortunate that king and country labor under themisapprehension that you are an officer and a gentleman. Onyour own honor, I insist that you retire to your quarters, whereyou will remain under house arrest."

"But . . ."

"No, no, Captain Randall. We have to trust him that far. MajorBones, tomorrow I will authorize a detachment to escort you toLisbon. When summer comes, we will continue this discussion.Do leave right now. The sight of you is making me ill."

Major Bones got to his feet, his face drained of all color, exceptfor two red spots burning in his cheeks. He took a step towardElinore, but Harper was on his feet and standing in front of herbefore the sentry had time to react.

Major Bones turned on his heel and left the room, followed by

the sentry. Elinore listened to him all the way down the hall, notrelaxing until she could not hear his footsteps. Without a word,she leaned her head against Jesse's shoulder.

"Ugly business, my dears," Picton remarked. "I hope youunderstand what I did."

"I don't, begging your pardon, General," Harper said.

"Even the most certifiable bastard deserves evidence." Heindicated the note. "This chit will hold him all winter in hisquarters, with a sentry in front. When the army marches in thespring, we'll get to that village." He frowned at his desk. "I do notsuppose we can realistically argue his culpability for your dearsurgeon's death (more's the pity), but the alcalde is anothermatter." He came around the corner of his desk, and held out hishand to Elinore. "We'll do the right thing, my dear."

"I will be happy to testify to everything," she said.

"No need. My aide will take all your depositions." He releasedher hand. "You will have better things to do in ... in Dundee, didyou say, Captain Randall?"

"But, won't we be in Portugal all winter, Jesse?" Elinore asked,puzzled.

"No, my love," he said. "I didn't ask your permission, but Iresigned my commission before Major Bones joined us for thisdelightful conversation. We're going home." His eyes brightened."Do you like the sound of that, Elinore?"

He got to his feet, and she put her arms around him, careful notto jostle his poor head. "I like it very well, Jesse," she told him,then glanced at Harper, who was grinning broadly, "But I willmiss Harper."

"No need," he told her. "I am not as shy as I used to be, I think,and I argued rather persuasively with the general here that

Harper be allowed to leave his enlistment and come with us. Iknow you will insist that I have a driver, especially for thoselate-night home visits that are the peril of every countryphysician. He seemed agreeable, eh, Harper?"

"Anything you say, Chief."

''Well, then," Picton said, and clapped his hands together. "I amsorry for the end of Number Eight. I doubt your replacementswill be as colorful." He walked them to the door, then turned toElinore. "My dear, that note from my ADC informs me that thebodies were brought in an hour ago, right after dark."

'Did you send out a detachment?" Jesse asked.

"Well, no. and here's the puzzle: It seems that you were followedby a rather surly-looking guerilla band who routed that line ofFrench skirmishers, and who informed me that the French haveindeed joined forces, but declined any invitations to visit us herein Rodrigo. We are not disappointed."

"Ramos," Jesse said, and she heard the wonder in his voice. "Irather thought he had discharged his obligation to us earlier. Youwould have thought I delivered twins, instead of just one ratherirritated baby."

After asking directions to the morgue, they walked down theguildhall steps. The night air was brisk, but the wind blew fromthe south. "I think it will be warmer tomorrow, my dear Elinore,"Jesse said.

She turned to exchange some equally idle pleasantry when a manwearing a cloak stepped from the shadow of the guildhall. Shetightened her grip on Jesse, then relaxed when he patted her arm.I wonder if there will be a moment when I do not fear MajorBones again, she thought.

"Senor Ramos," Jesse said, and held out his hand. "We have youto thank for many things, I see."

Ramos removed his hat and bowed. "I am only sorry we did notarrive soon enough to save your brave soldiers." He shook hishead. "We lost your trail at the ford for a while."

"You have followed us all this way?" Elinore asked, amazed.

"Just to keep an eye on you," he admitted. "I could tell soon thatyou were in competent hands, senora. You have married quite aman."

"Who would have thought it?" Jesse said.

Ramos chuckled. "Senor, you may ride with us any day."

"I look forward to the day when no one will ride as a guerilla,"Jesse replied.

"A year or two? Who knows?" the guerilla said. He put his hat onhis head again, and paused a moment before speaking. Even thenhe sounded uncertain. "Captain, my men are there by the gate.Can you see them?"

"I believe so." Jesse looked closer. "But you appear to havesomeone thrown down over a horse. Should I attend him?"

"I think not. Do apologize to your General Picton for me. but Icould not resist the opportunity to invite Major Bones to pay areturn visit to Santos. There he was, strolling across the courtyardlike he owned it. How could I resist? He was reluctant, but Ididn't take no for an answer."

Harper started to laugh. "God help us! I wish Wilkie were herefor this."

"I don't understand," Jesse said.

The guerilla shrugged. "Ours is a small village. When the alcalde'sfamily heard that we were going to keep a watch over you, theyasked me to look for Major Bones. What do you know? I foundhim. Imagine that."

Elinore gripped Jesse's hand harder. I should feel remorse for this,she thought. It seems so uncivilized. "What are you planning,sir?" she asked.

"Nothing grandiose, senora. As you know, we are a poor village.We will just turn him loose in the plaza. That is all." He bowedagain. "Adios."

"Do give our regards to your lovely wife and daughter." Jessesaid.

In silence, they watched the guerilla mount his horse and lead hissmall band from the gate of Ciudad Rodrigo. They looked at eachother. Harper was the first to break the silence. "Do you thinkthere will even be enough left for them to bury?"

"I wouldn't care to make a wager, Harry. May I call you thatnow? I rather think we should be on a first-name basis. Elinore?I'm sorry you had to hear all this."

"I should be shocked, shouldn't I?" she replied slowly. "I wonderwhy this isn't bothering me. When the major doesn't show up forbreakfast in the morning, questions will be asked." She clearedher throat. "Do we ... do we know anything?"

"About what?" Harper asked, the picture of innocence.

"My head aches." Jesse said. "Elinore, my dear, you have beenwith Number Eight long enough to diagnose me. Do you think Iam coming down with amnesia?"

"What?" she asked. She looped her arms through each of theirs,and they walked slowly across the courtyard.

May 7, 1813

Dear Philippe,

This will be a test of my Italian. I have not written the languagein eight years. Perhaps one of us should learn the other's

language.

How delighted and relieved we were to receive your letteryesterday dated February 13, and to learn that you were inGrenoble Your letter came via a smuggler bringing champagneto one of my patients, a laird who suffers spectacularly fromgout.

To answer your question, my practice thrives. Strange, hut afteryears of hacking, sawing, and patching war wounds, I had noidea how much salt of magnesium to administer to relievesomething as prosaic as constipation! I will say, if ever a warbreaks out between Dundee and Perth, I am ready with anawesome selection of bone saws.

Elinore is thriving. She has decided that she likes living in areal house. She planted flowers in all the window boxes, wateredthem faithfully, then burst into tears when everything sprouted. Iasked her what was wrong, and she told me it was the first timeshe had ever stayed long enough in one place to see anythingshe planted bloom. What a dear heart she is. As you mightexpect, she is increasing. If it is a boy, he will be BertramPhilippe, dear friend.

Harper exceeds my expectations as a driver. I pay him agenerous wage, and I think he is not inclined to resume hisformer life of crime. It appears to be the farthest thing from hismind. He is courting the butcher's daughter, and proving to beas shy as I was. He has a reputation of sorts, and it does me noharm when it comes time to collect fees from my patients. Noone is ever in arrears.

We all miss Wilkie. Elinore does have nightmares about herfather and that last wild ride. I hold her until the sorrow passes.

Not a day goes by that I do not review my cases and wonder if Icould have done something different. I jump at loud noises, butso do Elinore and Harper.

Do I miss Marching Hospital Number Eight? Sometimes.General Picton has promised to send me a dispatch when thearmy passes through Santos again. We can only pray that DanO'Leary and the patients are well. We made a difference inNumber Eight, but now I know the pleasure of riding home to awarm house. When I open the door, Elinore is there.

I must close. The smuggler is ready to take this, the laird iscomplaining of his gout, and I strongly suspect twins at thesolicitor's. Do accept our love, and let us know how you arefaring.

Your obedient servant,

Jesse C. Randall

Carla Kelly lives in Valley City, North Dakota, She doeshistorical research for the North Dakota State Historical Society,writes for various publications, edits the Confluence News, andworks for the National Park Service at Fort Union Trading PostNational Historic Site on the North Dakota-Montana border.