CHAPTER ONE
'Are you married?'
Sebastian jerked his head up at the unexpected question. He looked across at his commanding officer and stuttered, 'No.'
He had been married once... briefly... and in a way he still thought of himself as a married man, despite the six long years that had passed since Inez’s death.
Major Arthur Heyland laid his pen on his writing box and smiled, but even in the dim light of the lantern, there was no humour in his smile. 'Consider yourself fortunate, Alder. No one to worry about you.’
That was not strictly true, Sebastian had a brother and sister who would certainly worry about him.
'You, sir?'
Heyland nodded. 'Married twelve years.'
'Children?' Sebastian prompted, not from any great interest, but conversation of any kind helped pass the time.
This time, there was humour in the smile, a genuine warmth he rarely saw in his commanding officer.
'Six... and one due any day,' Heyland replied.
Sebastian did the mental calculation. Quick work in only twelve years of marriage, most of which had been spent on active service.
As if sensing his unspoken question, Heyland said. 'Mary followed the drum, and it broke my heart to leave her in Wales, but she’s... well she could hardly follow in her condition. She's a capital girl, my Mary.’
He sat back and scratched his nose with the end of his pen.
‘You know the life she has led, Alder, all without complaint. She has borne me four boys and two girls...’ he paused, the corners of his mouth turning down, ‘and the one I may never meet.'
There was no answer to the last. Both men lapsed into silence, unbroken but for the steady lashing of rain on the window of their billet.
'This rain will be the very devil on the morrow,' Heyland said, changing the subject.
‘If it is for us, then the French will have it just as bad,' Sebastian responded.
Heyland looked down at the letter he had been writing.
'I’d been given permission to retire on half pay,' he said without looking up. 'We have enough to live comfortably. Mary and I...' he broke off with a shuddering breath.
Sebastian said nothing. There was nothing he could say.
He had been a soldier as long as this man, they had both seen service on the Peninsula, both been wounded several times.
The prospect of battle held no illusions of grandeur or glory.
If Heyland had some premonition that tomorrow would be his last day on earth, then Sebastian had seen it before, and he had no comfort, no platitudes to offer.
Death came at its own behest, and even as he had charged the walls at Talavera, crying its name, death had laughed in his face.
Now... he took a deep shuddering breath.
.. now the thought of death terrified him.
He had not seen serious action since Talavera, and in that time his life had changed.
His stepfather had died, leaving him with the responsibility for his siblings, a responsibility he took on willingly.
‘I have a younger brother and sister,’ Sebastian volunteered. ‘Orphaned...’
He made a pretence of inspecting his sword for rust, conscious that Heyland gave him a long, lingering glance of complete understanding.
If Heyland had been about to say something, a knock on the door interrupted him. Sebastian’s orderly, Bennet, entered, carrying two metal pannikins.
‘That smells like real food,’ Heyland remarked, taking the pannikin Bennet offered him.
'Chicken,' Corporal Bennet announced with a degree of pride in his voice.
Sebastian took his pannikin, but in truth he had little appetite. Only common sense told him he needed to eat.
'Where did you steal it, Bennet?' he asked.
His orderly looked offended.
'Didn't steal 'nuffin, sir, and I resents the implication. This came for you, Major Heyland, sir.'
Bennet handed a folded and sealed paper to Heyland.
As Sebastian hastily consumed the gelatinous mess Bennet had produced, without tasting it, Heyland broke the seal and scanned the contents.
He waited until Bennet had left the room before he said. 'Our orders for tomorrow, Alder. We are to be held in the reserve under Lambert and be in place at the farm Mont St. Jean by 9 in the morning.'
Sebastian nodded and rose to his feet. 'I'll pass the orders on,' he said, 'and make sure the men are rested.'
Heyland ran a hand over his eyes. 'God knows they must be exhausted after that march from Ghent. I know I am, and I had a horse.'
Sebastian left his commanding officer to finish his letter to his wife in private and went in search of the rest of the officers of the 40th Regiment of Foot.
Some were already asleep. He apologised for rousing them, but they had the responsibility to ensure their men were settled for the night, had eaten, cleaned their muskets, and would be ready to march at seven.
'In this weather?' one of the younger officers complained, glancing at the open door and the pouring rain.
'Count yourself lucky you have a dry bed and a meal in your belly,' Sebastian snapped. 'I am betting there are men out there who have neither. See to your men... now!'