The Portuguese Affair (21 page)

Running lopsided, I reached the far side of the yard and threw myself across the saddle on my stomach, thanking all the stars in Heaven that the horse was smaller than Hector so I had no need of a mounting block. He was already moving as I caught the reins in my left hand and urged him back along the track to the forest, even before I was able to swing my right leg over his back and find my stirrups. He was rested now, and fear of the dog drove him all the faster. He had no need of my urging to break into his swiftest gallop.

Behind us, I could hear the sounds of the farmer unchaining the dog, and yelling curses and threats after me, but I counted on his having no horse. Nowhere about the farm had I seen any sign of one. Probably he managed with a draught ox or even just a donkey. He could never catch me on my army officer’s stallion. The horse could hear the animal behind us as well as I could, for it gave tongue like a trained hunting dog, so he flew down the track as if the very hounds of Hell were on his heels. Crouched low in the saddle, I left him to find his own way, for I was blinded and racked with sobs as the place that held my sister Isabel dwindled into the distance behind me, to be lost beyond the forest trees of Buçaco.

Chapter Fourteen

A
s my horse thundered up the hill, back the way we had come, his head was lowered and his ears back, and his gasping breath beat time to the drumming of his hooves on the hard ground. My own heart pounded in my ears to the same relentless rhythm. If we did not escape this evil man, I would be betrayed to the Inquisition. I was no longer a child, no longer under the protection of a mother who would do anything,
anything
, to protect me. I would be stripped and tortured and endure all that she had endured. No confession, no penance would save me now. Everything that she had suffered to ensure that I lived would all go for nothing. I would be for the fire. I crouched low over the horse’s neck, my fingers entangled in the reins and the harsh hair of his mane, which lashed against my face. My eyes closed, I could smell the stench of burning flesh.

I was only conscious of entering the forest when the heat of the sun on my back was suddenly replaced by a flood of cool air. I opened my eyes. The arms of the trees embraced me, welcoming. A soft green had replaced the harsh glare and the stony ground of the farm, beneficent as a blessing. I drew a long, shuddering breath. The horse was almost beyond control, terrified by the baying of the dog at his heels and his instinctive sense of my own terror. The dog had been left behind, but only after he had managed to sink his teeth briefly into the horse’s leg. I had been barely aware of that, and of the horse kicking out to free himself of the vicious animal.

I must get the horse under control.

I straightened in the saddle and slowly, slowly, eased the horse back from his panic-stricken gallop to a slow canter. He was still gasping and his neck was dark with sweat. I thought of how the piebald Hector could gallop effortlessly on and on, but then I had never ridden him when he was as frightened as this horse was. Slower. Slower. Down to a nervous, broken trot, then a walk. He was shivering now, partly from nerves, partly from the cool forest air on his sweat-drenched coat.

We had come to the place where I had stopped before, beside the stream. I drew back on the reins. There was no longer any sound of pursuit. The man had no chance of catching us and the dog had disappeared after the horse had kicked him away. I slid down off the horse and my legs buckled under me, so that I collapsed on the ground, the reins still in my hands pulling the horse’s head down with me. The ground was cushioned with the accumulation, year upon year, of leaf litter and pine needles, and for a few minutes I did not even try to get up or release the horse. We both needed time for our hearts to steady and our breathing to return to normal.

At last I clambered to my feet. My legs were still shaking and I leaned against the horse’s shoulder. He blew anxiously into my ear, leaving a trail of foam on my cheek.

‘Poor fellow,’ I said, as calmly as I could, running my hand reassuringly down his neck. ‘That was a bad moment, wasn’t it?’

I unbuckled the cheek strap and slipped the bit out of his mouth, then led him to the stream. He was anxious to drink, but I would let him take only a little at first, in case he did himself harm. Strong and enduring as they may appear, horses can be delicate creatures. When he had taken the edge off his thirst, I led him back a little way from the stream, where there was a patch of grass between the trees. As he relaxed and began to graze, I opened my satchel and found a salve for the dog bite. Fortunately it was not deep. The creature had drawn blood but had not been able to clamp his great jaws too tightly, so there was no serious harm. The horse’s skin twitched as I spread the salve over the wound, and he raised his head briefly from the grass, then returned to it.

Once I had seen to the injury, I tore up a handful of grass and set to, rubbing the sweat off his coat. He still shivered from time to time, but there was some warmth in this open glade between the tall trunks, where westering sunlight fell slantwise, helping to dry his skin. When I felt he was at ease again, I allowed him another drink, kneeling beside him on the bank and scooping up water in my cupped hands to drink myself, for I was aware that my mouth was dry and my throat sore, as if I had been weeping for hours, yet I was dry-eyed now, though my cheeks were stiff with salt. I was aware only of a terrible emptiness where there had once been hope. I knew I ought to eat something before my strength failed me, but my stomach heaved at the thought.

I got to my feet, eased the bridle back into place, and mounted again. The only way to go at first was back through my grandfather’s estate, but I would not call at the house again. The horse was calm and seemed to have totally forgotten his fright as I urged him to a slow but steady canter that he should be able to sustain for a long while. When the manor house came into sight, I turned my back on its white walls, as they flushed a soft pink in the setting sun, and rode away, my mind in turmoil, shying away from the joyous thoughts which had filled it when I had approached only that morning.

Darkness was falling when we reached the bridge over the river Montego and there was no one about, not even a shepherd with a flock of sheep. Although he had crossed it quite willingly before, the horse baulked now. Perhaps he had not quite forgotten his earlier terror after all. Or perhaps the unchancy light of a rising full yellow moon, glancing off the water like fire, alarmed him. He would only consent to cross when I dismounted and led him over, encouraging him with soft words.

I knew I could not go much further that day, nor could the horse. Wearily we climbed up to the belt of woodland where we had spent the previous night, though I could hardly believe that only a day had passed since then. I found the stream again, but lower down. It was an adequate place to spend the night. The countryside was empty all around, no light shining from cottage or farm. Once again I removed the horse’s saddle and bridle and fixed the hobble so that he could graze, but not wander too far. In fact, he was well trained. He knew to stay near his rider.

The previous night I had given little thought to any dangers here in this woodland, far from human habitation, but it occurred to me now that there were likely to be wild boar in the forest, and possibly wolves as well. A boar was unlikely to trouble me unless first attacked, but I was less sure about wolves. The smell of a horse and a human would reach them from some distance and a horse is a natural prey. He could do little to protect himself. I wished I had my dog Rikki with me. He had shown himself courageous once before in protecting me from an attack – human not vulpine. I shivered. Whatever the thoughts eating into my mind, I must keep up my vigilance and my strength, and to sustain both, I must eat.

The thought of food still revolted me, but I forced myself to eat almost the last of my supplies – a little dried meat and some bread so stale I had to soak it in water from the stream before I could chew it. Despite the heat of the day, it grew chilly under the trees as darkness fell. I had no blanket, but I unrolled the cloak I had brought strapped behind my saddle and huddled into that for warmth. Even with the cloak I began to shiver uncontrollably, so that with the detached, analytical part of my brain I knew I was suffering from the delayed effects of shock. As a physician I had observed it in patients who had survived a near fatal accident. After such an experience, overpowering cold would seize the body. It could also happen to soldiers. Sustained by courage and excitement and violence throughout a battle, they would often begin this shaking after it was over. I had heard of it many times, and witnessed it for myself at Coruña. It was not fear. Somehow the body needed to restore the balance of humours after great physical effort or mental shock. I tried to regard myself dispassionately as a physician examining a patient. It did little good.

My mind recoiled from those scenes on the farm. Though I shrank from the thought of them, I must try to decide what to do. Was Isabel truly damaged in her mind? At times it had seemed so, when she looked as me with those vacant eyes. But then at other times she had clearly recognised me and at the end she had said, rationally enough, that she could not leave the children. Any mother would have done the same. And she had begged me to leave, to save myself, for I could do nothing to help her. Nay, I did not believe her mind was gone. I was sure, however, that she lived in perpetual terror of that man. I realised I did not even know his name. He must be the son of the older tenants of my grandfather, so he was a da Roca, but his first name had never been mentioned.

If our expedition was successful and Dom Antonio gained his throne, it might be possible for me to gain his help in wresting Isabel from the power of that man. If it could be proved that he was not married to her, he could have no claim to own her. It might be possible. I must cling to that hope. We had still to make our way to
Lisbon and seize the capital, but the Dom was confident the people would rise in his favour. So much depended on so many imponderables, but I began to feel a small glimmer of hope. I lay back on the rough grass and watched the stars, brilliant in the dark sky, growing more intense as the moon sailed over to the west and began to sink toward the horizon. At some time in the dark hours, despite my intention to keep watch, I fell finally to sleep.

The following day I continued to retrace my route back toward Peniche, but I did not seek out the inn where I had stayed on my first night. Instead, I slept again in the open. The horse seemed fully recovered now, though it was clear he was growing weary. I still found it difficult to eat anything. Although there remained an end of cheese and some dried figs and apricots in my satchel, the very sight of food turned me dizzy with nausea, so I left them untouched. As I headed along the coast, I avoided the fishing villages, shying away from the kind woman and the children, riding now with an aching head and dogged purpose to reach the expedition again. I was light-headed from lack of food and exhaustion, but there was nothing else to do but simply ride on. Once more I avoided the towns, until I came at last to the isthmus leading to the
peninsula of Peniche.

Less than a week after I had left, I was back at the royal camp. I returned my good horse to the garrison stables just inside the town gate with thanks to the master of cavalry, and bought the gallant animal a feed of bran mash and the best oats, for without him I could not have regained the safety of this small kingdom of Dom Antonio’s. Before leaving, I checked that the wound inflicted by the farmer’s dog was healing cleanly. I parted with the horse somewhat sadly, for we had endured much together. He had provided unquestioning companionship, but I dreaded what I might be a
sked about my private expedition when I rejoined the English force.

The town seemed strangely deserted. When I had left, the English soldiers and sailors had been in evidence everywhere in the streets, visiting the ale-houses and brothels, buying trinkets from market stalls, eating in the Portuguese equivalent of a
London ordinary and enjoying the change from ship’s biscuit and salt cod. Here they would be able to eat fresh food, especially the sardines for which the area was famous. And no doubt they had been enjoying the local wine. Now hardly anyone was to be seen, not even the local inhabitants. Some children, playing in the street, looked up as I came away from the stable, sucking their thumbs and watching me in silence, wide-eyed. A young woman, carrying a baby, nodded to me, but did not smile, while an old crone, sitting on a stool before her doorway, turned on me a look that was almost malevolent. As I neared our quarters, I began to dread that our soldiers had once again gone on the rampage. It was only when I walked down to the harbour that I understood why the town, so crowded when I left, seemed half deserted now. The harbour was empty, save for a few fishing boats and a dozen or so skiffs. The entire English fleet had gone.

Had I been abandoned while I had been absent? What would I do if I found myself now alone in Peniche, with little money and no means of making my way home to
England? I walked as fast as I could to the citadel, almost running in my panic. As I came within the walls of the fortress, I was relieved to see that I had not, after all, been abandoned. The whole central court was filled with our ragbag army, rounded up and milling about aimlessly. Some of Norreys’s officers were shouting orders, which were mostly ignored. The soldiers were all carrying knapsacks and wearing full or half armour. A few officers were mounted, also in armour, and there were more horses tethered outside the sleeping quarters.

When I reached the rooms which had been allocated to our Portuguese party, I found Dr Nuñez sitting on a bed in his shirt sleeves, attended by his servant, who was strapping the doctor’s few possessions into a knapsack.

‘Good,’ said Dr Nuñez, with a smile. ‘I was afraid you would not reach us in time.’

‘What has become of the fleet?’ I asked, flinging myself down on one of the other beds and prising off my boots to ease my feet, for I had not taken them off, day or night, since I had left Peniche. My feet stank like rotting meat. Although I had been riding, not walking, the heat had caused my feet to swell and the stiff leather had rubbed blisters on my heels.

‘We have divided our forces.’ His expression was grim and it was clear that he was unhappy with the strategy. ‘Drake has gone in pursuit of that treasure ship, the one which stopped briefly here at Peniche and which is now said to be moored some way up the Tejo, but down river from Lisbon.’

‘But why is the army left behind?’

‘Ruy Lopez and Dom Antonio – and indeed Sir John Norreys himself – think it is best for us to remain on land with the army, so that we may gather up as many of the Dom’s supporters as possible while we march overland to Lisbon. That may be right. It is possible.’