Gunwitch (25 page)

Smoke and steam roiled over the field from cannon and muskets and grunzers. The attackers had created multiple mortar positions with grunzers that squatted behind earthen battlements, their gun arm pointed nearly straight up. Other, smaller, regularly manned mortars had been set up in the trenches. In the forward sections of the trenches, men and grunzers with picks and shovels worked to dig the trenches ever closer to the walls. Within the trenches, soldiers waited, keeping their heads down and their powder dry. Some of the men closer to the fort would stand, face the walls, and take a shot. Grunzers and cannon behind the walls of the fort maintained a slow, booming rate of fire, targeting both the trenchers and the mortar positions. A few snipers also shot from the walls.

Rose pulled back into the underbrush and retraced her steps. Chal still sat next to Rose’s pack. She looked more tired than Rose had ever seen her. Janett stood up and pointed the rifle at her as Rose came out of the trees. When Janett recognized her, the girl settled back into a squat near Chal. Major Haley sat against the truck of a shingle oak, the shovel on the ground beside him, his rifle across his lap. He looked up at Rose and gave her a weak smile, but otherwise did not move.

The major groaned, sounding more like an enlisted man than an officer. He used the shovel to pull himself to his feet and came to sit next to Chal.

Rose described what she had seen of the fort, and drew a map in the dirt. “Normally, I’d say we let Chal be our ticket of safe passage through the natives. Even if they are from further north, they might recognize her and let her pass. But … well, you can see the problem.”

“How about we sneak along the north edge, between the Italian camp and the river?” Major Haley asked.

Rose thought for a moment. “The Italians riverboats and barges are probably beached along that bank of the river. I didn’t see them but that only means they kept them back, out of easy range. So there will likely be a number of sentries and patrols along the riverbank, from the boats to the camp.” She paused. “And there’s probably a similar situation along the river to the south.”

* * *

They held hands again as they walked along the muddy bank of the river. This time, though, they held hands so as not to be separated in the darkness and the thick fog that rolled off the river at Chal’s request. The smell of the river was thick around them, the stench of mud and fish and decaying plants overriding the smells of the battle. Before they set off, Chal had touched each of their foreheads and eyelids, letting them see through the fog, though not completely. Rose estimated they could see about ten yards. The night sky was clear, but the bright stars could not be seen past the fog. Rose led the way, holding Janett’s right hand with her left, her right hand gripping her pistol. Chal walked between Janett and Major Haley. Rose could feel Chal’s fading strength through Janett’s grip. They could all use a good night’s sleep. And probably a day and night after that. Three days running through the bayuk would take its toll even without being pursued.

The troops attacking the fort had cut the forest away from the riverbank and built some rough piers. Lanterns had been hung along the piers and they glowed dimly in the fog. Pairs of sentries with lanterns walked along the piers. When they met another pair, they would raise their lanterns and exchange greetings and passwords in Italian. These piers and a few boats that had been pulled up on the bank provided additional cover. Rose led them from one to the next, doing her best not splash in the ankle-deep water or lose her moccasins in the mud. Chal was able to keep the major’s and Janett’s steps silent and splashless, but Rose was on her own.

Each time a pair of sentries came close, Rose gripped her pistol tighter. She did not want to risk a shot. Even if the shot would not be heard by the main body of the force, she had already counted a dozen sentries, and assumed there were more. Their numbers did not worry her, but the sentries were too spread out for her to be able to take care of them all at once. It only took one sentry to raise the alarm.

The sounds of the battle grew around them. The booming of the cannon had slowed as the fog obscured targets for both sides but neither side had stopped completely. The fog muffled the sounds, making it seem like a dream of a battle. Or a nightmare.

Rose moved them away from the riverbank as they came around the edge of the forest to the main clearing. They paralleled the north edge of the Italian’s trench line up the hill toward the fort. They could sometimes see soldiers moving through the trenches. As they got closer to the fort, they could hear, then see, grunzers expanding the trenches, using oversized shovels to pile the earth ramparts higher.

Rose forced herself to relax her grip on her pistol and her muscles, but it was difficult, walking this close to the enemy. She could see the Italians, and hear them talking in low tones between cannon and mortar volleys. More than once she thought soldiers had seen them or heard them. Men had looked toward Rose and the others. But each time, the soldiers had looked away again, unable to penetrate the thick river fog.

When they reached the outer wall of the fort, Rose led them around to the north side. She hoped that getting into the fort without being shot would prove as easy as getting to the wall without getting shot. She did not expect any English soldiers on top of that wall, but there would be sentries–very jumpy, scared sentries–walking the space between the walls.

She let go of Janett’s hand and motioned to Major Haley. She watched Janett and Chal both sit down on the packed dirt. Then she and Major Haley climbed the slope of the outer wall. They watched a pair of sentries without lanterns march past, then signaled for Janett and Chal to follow them. Janett struggled with the incline, but Chal steadied her and helped her up. The inside slope of the rampart was steeper and they all slid down it to land in a heap at the bottom of the trough.

That’s where the sentries found them, a pair coming from each direction. The sentries blew their whistles, the alarm went up and bells rang inside the fort, causing bells and alarms to go off in the trenches below them.

Rose and Chal stood with their hands up as soldiers appeared over the north wall and pointed their rifles down at them. Janett stood but did not put up her hands. She looked more tired than captive.

“We are English,” Major Haley said. He did not put his hands up either. He straighten his buffcoat, and tried to knock off some of the mud from his red coat and his gold braid. “I am Major Ian Haley, from Fort Gunter. With me are two scouts and Miss Janett Laxton, the Colonel’s daughter. Take us to Colonel Laxton. At once.”

The major had to repeat himself several times. First to the sentries. Then to the officer of the watch, who did not come down from the wall but insisted that Major Haley shout up at him. Then again to the same officer of watch, who gave his name as Captain John Keele, when all four of them had come up a ladder dropped for them. Major Haley maintained his bearing as an officer through all this. Rose was certain that the presence of Janett, obviously an English lady even after three days in the swamp, proved more convincing and compelling than the major.

Rose’s pistol and rifle were taken away, as was Chal’s cavalry rifle. The major’s shovel and rifle, and the old rifle Janett had been carrying, had been left in the trees, so there were no other weapons to confiscate.

The private who took Rose’s pistol did not notice the strange construction or the runes that flashed on the blackened metal when he grabbed it. She had her 101st Pistoleers badge tucked away in her pack. She heard some comments and snickers about “women scouts”, but no mention of gunwitches or the bitches crew. Colonel Laxton would recognize her, she had no doubt about that, but she had seen no reason to advertise herself to the rest of the Colonel’s command.

The officer of the watch, with a half-dozen men with rifles, escorted the group to the Commandant’s office. A light shown from the small window when they arrived.

Rose felt an uncomfortable sense of
già visto
as she followed Major Haley and Janett into the office. She heard a voice from her past, a voice neither friendly nor unfriendly, saying,
Now you’ve done it, lassie. You’ve woke the Leftenant.

An officer, a major, stood next to the colonel’s desk and looked at the four of them with a mixture of wonder and disgust. He looked first at Major Haley, then at Janett. He gave Rose and Chal only a passing glance, then fixed his eyes on Major Haley again as if he wanted to know what an English officer could possibly be doing in the swamp with three women. He said nothing, however.

Colonel Laxton stood behind his desk with his back to them as they were led into his office. He wore his full uniform, which had been freshly pressed and starched, and his sword curved from his belt. His cover rested on his desk. Rose did not need to see his face. She recognized him from his stance: back straight, arms crossed, legs together, as if he were on the parade ground about to review recruits. Or to discipline them.

Janett recognized the colonel as well.

“Da!” Janett said, and rushed forward.

“Miss!” Captain Keele shouted, and interjected himself between her and the Colonel. The captain did not touch Janett, but he would not let her pass.

“Da,” Janett said again, “this ruffian will not let me pass.”

“Captain Keele,” Colonel Laxton said without turning around. “You will please take your hands off my daughter.” He paused. “And Janett, you will please compose yourself.”

“Da, please,” Janett said. But she stopped trying to get past the captain. Rose watched the girl take two deep breaths and calm herself. Janett ran her hands over her hair, then her swamp- and sweat-stained dress. She became even more the English lady. She even managed to look less tired than Rose knew she was.

They stood there, the six men-at-arms at attention behind Rose and Chal and Major Haley, who were a step behind Janett and Captain Keele, and the Colonel still facing the wall as if the Union Jack which hung there were of utmost importance. Rose noticed Chal looking at her, so she met her eye. Chal’s question was obvious on her face. Rose shrugged.

Rose crossed her arms to keep her hands from twitching. She could sense her pistol behind her, tucked into the belt of one of the privates. The palm of her right hand itched with the urge to summon it to her.

Colonel Laxton turned around. As he stepped from his desk his eyes swept the room. Rose heard the privates behind her and the major beside her snap to even greater attention than before. She had to resist the urge to do so herself. The colonel’s gaze came to rest on Janett, and the barest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his thin lips. “Captain Keele,” the colonel said, his voice almost kind, “would you be so kind as to let a daughter greet her father?”

The captain stepped aside and Janett glided to stand in front of the colonel. She executed a perfect curtsy, and said, “Father.” Then she threw herself at the colonel, wrapping her arms around him. “Da,” she said, her voice breaking, “it is so good to see you.” She started sobbing and speaking at the same time, her words muffled by the colonel’s coat. Rose could not understand what Janett was saying, but she heard the word “swamp” and “dreadful” and “Margaret” and “Mr. Thomas” repeated several times.

Rose had never seen the officer Laxton look surprised before, or discomfited. The colonel awkwardly put his arms around Janett in a stiff hug. “Janett, please, compose yourself,” he said.

As the captain dismissed the men-at-arms, Rose again resisted the urge to summon her pistol. Fort Russell was a small fort. Within its walls, her pistol would always been in reach.

The colonel said nothing else as he stood there, his arms around Janett. While Janett wept in his arms, he looked at Rose as if trying to divine her part–or her blame–in this situation. Rose met his gaze and did not look away. She could feel Major Haley tensing beside her, wanting to intervene but respecting his superior officer. A private came back with a chair. Only then did the colonel look away. He made Janett let go of him and sit down.

The colonel held up a hand and Janett stopped speaking. “I sent word weeks ago that under no circumstances were you to undertake the trip to this fort.”

“We did not get any message from you, father. We were at Fort Gunter for most of a month–”

“Enough. It is done. You are here. If a bit worse for wear.” He paused and looked at Rose. “I suppose I have you to thank for that?”