Chapter Two #3
David assisted her up and sat next to her on the bench. Taking up the reins, he flicked his wrists, causing the horse to begin to move.
They drove all that day and more than half the next before reaching their final destination.
Thankfully, they had not been stopped. After arriving at the camp and letting others know he carried a duke’s injured son, Henry was swept away and taken to the medical tent.
By then, a lieutenant-general whom David took his orders from had arrived.
“I must see Wellesley at once,” he said. “This woman has been a part of my spy network. She has been compromised. Might she remain in the camp? She would be quite useful.”
The officer nodded. “Thank you for your service.” He signaled, and another soldier came over. “See that she is fed and her wagon secured. “Do you know how to cook?” he asked Marguerite.
“Yes. And I am a seamstress. I can also launder clothing.”
The officer nodded. “You will do well here.” Glancing back to David, he said, “Come.”
He looked over his shoulder as he strode away, giving a small wave to the woman who had helped him feel a bit more human these past two years, doubting their paths would ever cross again.
At Wellesley’s tent, they were given immediate access. It was not the first time he had spoken to the British commander, but it was the most important occasion.
“Rochester, isn’t it?” Wellesley asked.
“You never seem to forget a name, sir,” he replied. “Turning to the officer he knew acted as Wellesley’s secretary, he said, “Take every bit of this down as I speak. What I bring is valuable information. It is in regard to Marshal Massena, who will try to relieve the besieged city of Almeida.”
Wellington motioned for him to take a seat, and he did so. David went on to explain how Massena’s army would be organized into four corps and a cavalry reserve, naming each of the commanders and the locations of those corps, as well as explaining the significance of Fuentes de Onoro.
“When?” Wellesley prodded. “When will they be in place?”
“The best guess is the beginning of May. I believe the second or third day, based upon where troops are now located and how long it would take to arrive and get into place.”
Wellesley nodded thoughtfully. “I have under my command six infantry divisions. I am fully confident that we will be able to take the enemy. Knowing who is leading these corps and how many men they have, I can guarantee that the Anglo-Portuguese army will be able to kill a great number of their men, as well as inflict an enormous number of casualties.”
The commander rose, and David did the same. “Your intelligence will help us to continue the blockade of Almeida, Rochester. What is your current rank?”
“Captain, sir.”
“And how long have you been serving as a spy?”
“Seven years.”
Wellesley grunted. “You should be a major by now.” He turned to his secretary. “Make him one.”
“Yes, Sir,” the officer said.
He knew it was time to disclose Henry’s presence in camp.
“Before I receive my next assignment, Sir, I would like to inform you that the Duke of Norville’s heir, Henry Davenport, who has also served as one of our spies, has been injured. I was able to extract and bring him along with me. He is being tended in the medical tent as we speak.”
David paused, knowing he meddled, but wanting to see Henry safe. “I thought you would wish to have that to your attention. Hopefully, Lord Marbury can be sent home now.”
“Hmm. I cannot believe Norville let his heir come to war.”
Grinning, he said, “If you knew Marbury, you would understand.”
Understanding filled the commander’s eyes. “Ah, you know one another.”
“We were childhood friends and attended school together.”
Wellesley came from behind his desk and placed a hand upon David’s shoulder. “I know this last mission of yours has gone on for a long time, Major Rochester. Getting this information to me has likely compromised you.”
“I will build a new network,” he said confidently. “Wherever I am sent.”
“No. You will escort Lord Marbury home—and stay in England.” Wellesley sighed.
“This war is going to go on far longer than anyone in the War Office ever anticipated. You have served your king and country for a good, long while. Seven years of dangerous subterfuge is plenty. Sell your commission—as a major. Get Marbury home in one piece. Live a good life. And by God, pray for peace to come.”
He sighed inwardly. While he had thought to make the military his career, weariness filled his soul.
He had risked his life daily for years, and he was not only physically tired, but mentally and emotionally tired, as well.
Perhaps the Duke of Norville might allow him to stay at Norwood as a gamekeeper or in some other position.
He decided not to squander this opportunity Wellesley gave him.
Saluting, he said, “Thank you, General.”
David went to find Henry, standing off to the side while the doctor finished tending to his patient. When the physician finished, he stepped to the cot his friend lay upon.
“We are going home,” he told Henry. “You and I. And we are never coming back.”