Diane Gaston - Chivalrous Captain, Rebel Mistress

‘Where are your parents?’ she asked the child.

The little girl popped a thumb in her mouth and returned a blank stare.

Marian tried French, but the child’s expression did not change. Thumb still in her mouth, the little girl rattled off some words, pointing towards a dirt road that led away from the hut.

It was not a language Marian understood. Flemish, most likely.

‘This isn’t going to be easy,’ she muttered. ‘We each of us cannot make ourselves understood.’ She crouched to the child’s level. ‘Your mama? Mama?’

‘Mama!’ The child smiled and pointed to the road, chattering again.

Marian turned from the doorway to Captain Landon. ‘Her mother cannot be far or I think she’d be in distress. She’s not at all worried.’ Perhaps her mother had merely gone to the fields for a moment. ‘We need to stay. At least long enough for me to look at you.’

Allan winced. ‘I agree.’

He started to dismount on his own, nearly losing his balance. Marian ran to him, ready to catch him if he fell, but he held on to the horse for support.

He made a weak gesture to the barn. ‘In there. Won’t see us right away. Just in case.’

‘Just in case what?’

His brows knit. ‘In case French soldiers come by.’

The sounds of battle had disappeared completely, but they did not know which side would be the victor.

He led the horse into the barn.

It was larger than the hut, with three stalls. In one a milk cow contentedly chewed her cud. The other stalls had no animals, but were piled with fresh-smelling hay. A shared trough was filled with clean-looking water. The captain’s horse went immediately to the water and drank.

Holding on to the walls, the captain made his way to one of the empty stalls. He lowered himself on to the soft hay, his back leaning against the wood that separated this stall from the other, and groaned in pain.

‘I need more light if I am to see your wound.’ The sun was low in the sky and the barn was too dark for her to examine him. She glanced around and found an oil lantern. ‘I can light it from the fireplace in the hut. I’ll be right back.’

The little girl had stepped outside the hut, her thumb back in her mouth. Marian gestured with the lantern and the child chattered at her some more, but Marian could only smile and nod at her as she walked inside.

The hut was nothing more than one big room with a dirt floor, a table and chairs and a big fireplace with a small fire smouldering beneath a big iron pot. Curtains hid where the beds must be. Marian found a taper by the fireplace and used it to light the lantern.

Back in the barn, Marian hung the lantern on a nearby peg and knelt beside the captain. He was wet with blood. ‘We must remove your coat.’

He nodded, pulling off his shoulder belt and trying to work his buttons.

‘I’ll do that.’ Marian unbuttoned his coat.

He leaned forwards and she pulled off the sleeve from his right arm first. There was as much blood soaking the back of his coat as the front. He uttered a pained sound as she pulled the sleeve off of his left arm. ‘I am sorry,’ she whispered.

She reached for his shirt but he stopped her. ‘Not proper.’

Proper? She nearly laughed. ‘Do not be tiresome, Captain.’ She quickly took his shirt off too.

The wound, a hole in his shoulder the size of a gold sovereign, still oozed blood, and there was a corresponding one in his back that was only slightly smaller.

‘The ball passed through you,’ she said in relief. She would not have relished attempting to remove a ball from a man’s flesh. ‘I need a cloth to clean it.’

‘In my pocket.’

There was a clean handkerchief in the right pocket. She dipped it in the water trough and used it to clean the wound.

Even as she worked Marian could not fail to notice his broad shoulders and the sculpted contours of his chest. Beneath her hand his muscles were firm. She and Domina had admired his appearance in uniform what seemed an age ago when they’d first glimpsed him in the Parc. You should see him naked, Domina , she said silently to herself.

Marian had stuffed rolls of bandage in her pockets before the fire. She pulled them out and wrapped his wound.

‘Where did you learn to tend wounds?’ he asked.

She smiled. ‘At Hougoumont.’

He looked shocked. ‘At Hougoumont?’

‘It was all I could do.’ The sounds and smell and heat of the fires at Hougoumont returned. Tears stung her eyes as she again heard the cries of men trapped inside.

She forced herself to stop thinking of it. ‘I really have been a gently bred young lady.’ At least since leaving India, she had been. In India she remembered running free.

She tied off the bandages. ‘How does that feel, Captain?’

‘Good.’ His voice was tight.

She made a face. ‘I know it hurts like the devil.’

His lips twitched into a smile that vanished into a spasm of pain. ‘We should be on our way.’ He tried to stand, but swayed and fell against the stall. ‘Ahhhh!’ he cried.

She jumped to her feet and caught him before he slipped to the ground. ‘You cannot ride.’

His face was very pale. ‘Must get you to Brussels.’

‘Or die trying? I won’t have it!’ She pointed to his horse, now munching hay, coat damp with sweat and muscles trembling. ‘Your horse is exhausted and you have lost a great deal of blood.’

Captain Landon tried to pull out of her supporting arm to go towards his horse. ‘She needs tending. Rubbing down.’

She held him tight. ‘You sit. I will look after your horse.’

He frowned. ‘You cannot—’

‘I can indeed. I know how to tend a horse.’ This was a complete falsehood, of course, but he would not know she never paid much attention to horses except to ride them.

With her help, he sat down again and she found a horse blanket clean enough to wrap around him. A further search located a piece of sackcloth that she used to wipe off the horse’s sweaty coat. She removed the horse’s saddle and carried it and the saddlebags over to the captain.

His eyes seemed to have trouble focusing on her. ‘Is there some water?’

Water. She could suddenly smell it from the trough, and became aware of her own thirst. Surely there must be somewhere to get water without sharing it with the animals. ‘I’ll find some.’

There was a noise at the doorway. The little girl was watching them.

Marian gestured to her, pointing to the water and making a motion like a pump. ‘L’eau?’

The child popped her thumb into her mouth again and stared.

Marian rubbed her brow. ‘I wish I knew how to say water.’

‘Water?’ The child blinked.

‘Yes, yes.’ Marian nodded. ‘Water.’

The little girl led her to a pump behind the hut. Marian filled a nearby bucket and cupped her hands, drinking her fill. The child left her, but soon returned with a tin cup and handed it to her.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

The girl smiled. ‘Dank u. Dank u. Dank u. ‘

Marian carried the bucket and cup to the barn. The captain opened his eyes when she came near.

‘Water.’ She smiled, lifting the bucket to show him. She set it down and filled the cup for him.

His hand shook as he lifted the cup to his lips, but he swallowed eagerly. Afterwards he rested against the stall again.

And looked worse by the minute.

‘When Valour is rested, we’ll start out again.’ Even his voice was weaker.

‘Valour?’

‘Valour.’ He swallowed. ‘My horse.’

She laughed. ‘But she was not valorous! She bolted away from the cannons.’

He rose to the horse’s defence. ‘The fire frightened her. She’s used to cannon.’