Chapter Two #2
Over the last two years, David had wormed his way into the confidence of this pair. They trusted him because he had fed them pieces of true intelligence, which had helped in gaining their trust.
Pierre grinned at him, taking the bottle and uncorking it before bringing it to his lips for a long swallow. He passed the wine to Andre, who did the same, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You have not been about for a week or more, David,” Andre said. “Have you anything to report to us?” He drank deeply from the bottle again and handed it back to his companion.
On the way here, he had thought of something to share with them, a half-truth, one which he thought they would believe as fact. It was important enough that it might even draw them away from their captive, whose head still hung to his chest.
He began to speak, weaving the tale of how he received the information, watching both Frenchmen as they nodded, satisfaction on their faces.
“We should act upon this,” Andre said. “I will ride now and report this new information from David.”
He knew Andre would not credit him as the source, wishing to take any glory for himself.
Andre looked at the spy in the chair and ordered, “Do not kill him until I return. I should be back by mid-afternoon.” An evil smile crossed his face. “We will interrogate him a last time—then I will dance upon the ground where his English blood flows.”
Pierre accepted the bottle as Andre left.
David casually asked, “Get anything from this bastard?”
“Unfortunately, no. He is a stubborn one.”
At that, the spy raised his head. Shock ran through David.
Henry Davenport sat in the chair.
At least, he thought it was his old friend. The face was beaten, bloated and discolored with bruises. One eye was swollen shut, but the other eye that stared out at David was crystal blue. The curly, blond hair was also a dead giveaway. It was definitely Henry.
And David needed to save him.
He had written to Henry, as well as the duke, once his training in England concluded.
Because of his language skills, he had already been tapped to enter Britain’s vast spy network.
David had told his friend that what he did was of national importance and not to expect any correspondence from him until Bonaparte’s head was displayed on a pike, paraded through the streets of Paris.
Why had Henry come to war, much less become an agent of the crown?
“You look tired, my friend,” he said to Pierre, slapping him on the back.
“This one isn’t going anywhere. You should go and get some sleep while you can.
When Andre returns, you can either squeeze this English bastard dry of whatever he knows, or you can dispose of him then.
Either way, nothing can be done until Andre returns tomorrow afternoon. ”
“You are right, David. It has been a long day.” Grinning, he added, “Catching English spies is thirsty work.” He took another slug from the bottle.
Pierre trudged up the stairs, not even bothering to see David out and lock the door.
By morning, the entire village would know the French officers held a British spy, and not a single person would have come to Henry’s aid.
These Portuguese villagers were so cowed by the two Frenchmen who wreaked havoc among them.
But he would return.
“I am off to Madame Pierpont’s then,” he called up the stairs. “It will be nice to sleep in my own bed after my travels.”
His landlady said nothing about David’s comings and goings.
She knew to look under the pillow every Friday for the coins which paid his rent.
Sometimes, he was gone for a week or more at a time, but he always left what was due to the old woman.
He had done so this last time, as well, even stopping by his rented room and dropping the coins beneath the pillow before going to Marguerite’s.
He went out the door, whistling as he sauntered away, moving down the dark street.
Glancing around and seeing no one, he ceased his whistling and paused, moving to an alleyway and remaining as his ears became accustomed to the sounds of the night.
Quietly, he crept back after half an hour and entered the house, hearing loud snores coming from upstairs.
Andre had not bothered to douse the lantern before he had gone upstairs to bed, something careless, but David was grateful for the light now.
He quietly approached the man who had been more brother than friend to him.
Henry lifted his head. “I knew you would come back for me.”
“What the bloody hell are you doing playing at being a spy, Henry?” While his words were quiet, they came out more harshly than he had intended.
“Simply following in your footsteps, David.”
It sounded odd to his ears, hearing his name pronounced in the English fashion. During his spy years, everyone had spoken it as Dah-veed, their emphasis on the second syllable. It was as if the English version of him had ceased to exist.
Henry grinned at him, grimacing as he did so.
“I gave them nothing,” he said proudly. He studied David a moment.
“You look like a native. Your skin has been darkened by the sun. I would not have known it was you simply by looking at you, but I knew your voice. Hearing it gave me hope.” His friend’s voice broke on that last word.
“I am outdoors frequently,” he said, not giving up an iota of information to his old friend, ever careful, even now. “I must get you out of here, Henry. Do you think you can walk?”
“With help. A few ribs are broken. My left arm. My nose is definitely fractured, as well. And I am only hearing from my right ear.”
David knew shattering an eardrum was one of Pierre’s specialties and how painful it must be. He could only imagine the agony his friend was in.
Slipping a blade from his boot, he sliced through the ropes binding Henry. He would take those with him. The villagers would suffer enough when Pierre found his captive missing and go from house to house, searching for the spy. Cut ropes would mean an intended, aided escape.
Somehow, he managed to get Henry back to Marguerite’s. The clock chimed midnight as he softly tapped on her door. It flew open immediately, and her eyes went to the man who accompanied him.
“Bring him inside,” she commanded, closing the door after they entered. “Place him on my bed.”
For the next hour, she bathed Henry’s wounds, putting ointment on his cuts and liniment on the bruises. She took a bolt of cloth and wrapped his ribs. Henry grimaced a few times but never uttered a word. She also bound his broken arm to his torso.
“I cannot leave him here with you,” David said. “He must come with me.”
“How?” she asked. “He is in no shape to travel. If you put him upon your horse, I doubt he could hold onto you for long. And the jarring would be unbearable.”
“Your neighbor has a cart. I will take it and leave him money for a new one. Lie this man in the bed of the cart and cover him. I will place a few goods about him and hope that will allow me to pass through without being stopped.”
“They will be more suspicious of a man alone,” she told him. “I will go with you.”
He shook his head. “It is too dangerous, Marguerite.”
“It is dangerous if I stay behind. Somehow, somewhere, someone has seen you sneaking in to see me, David. Those two bastards will interrogate me, and I will look worse than this fellow here when they are done with me. I will not be beaten and then raped, left for dead.”
He winced. “I never should have gotten you into this situation.”
She smiled ruefully. “I was already involved in the network.” Her palm went to his cheek. “Let me come.”
“I do not know where I will be sent next,” he said flatly. “I could not take you.”
“Then leave me at the Allies’ camp. I am a seamstress. I can sew. Cook. Even wash clothes. There will be a need for my services. Besides, I will feel closer to my husband, being more a part of the army that way.”
David knew he had no choice. He must take her with him.
“You know you will never be able to come back here again. At least until the war is over.”
“I understand.” She glanced about the cottage. “It was only a home when my beloved was here. Now, it is simply four walls I unhappily exist within.”
Quickly, they gathered supplies for their journey. Henry was fed the last of the stew and then taken to the cart which David had taken and hitched his horse to, leaving coins behind for its owner.
“You must remain quiet. Not a sound,” Marguerite warned sternly.
“I understand,” Henry replied, lying in the bed of the vehicle.
They covered him and placed several boxes and barrels around him and then looked at one another.
“First light is almost upon us,” he said. “This is your last chance to remain.”
“I will go,” she said, her voice firm.