Honour and the Sword (15 page)

He reversed his musket and clubbed down viciously at André’s head, only stopping short at the very last second. André quite flinched in shock.

‘You beat the bastard’s brains out, that’s what you do,’ said Stefan. ‘Oh, sorry, André, did I scare you?’

It went on like that all morning. When we tried loading ourselves, Stefan stood right over André, yelling ‘Too much powder’ or just ‘Faster!’ until poor André’s hands were shaking so much he spilt his powder on the grass. Stefan was horrid. He said what André had wasted could have saved a man’s life.

I know it sounds ridiculous, because of course Stefan was a professional soldier, but he honestly did seem quite determined to bully André.

Jacques Gilbert

As soon as it was over I went straight to Stefan and told him to leave the boy alone.

He was sitting watching the rest of us pack up the guns, and didn’t even bother to look up. ‘What’s the matter, scared I’ll make him cry?’

I said ‘It would take more than you.’

‘If he doesn’t like it, he can always leave, can’t he?’

‘He won’t do that, you know he’s desperate to fight.’

‘Then I’m doing him a favour,’ said Stefan. ‘He needs a lot of toughening up before he’s going to be ready for that.’

I couldn’t think of an answer and he knew it.

‘You look after yourself, stable boy,’ he said. ‘Leave the kid to me.’

The boy shrugged it off, he said it was just Stefan teaching him discipline and he could handle it, but the next day we did pike and that was even worse. We were using great long poles to practise with, and the boy just wasn’t tall enough to work them properly. When we started trying to knock a man off a horse, Stefan deliberately made André try first so we could see how bad he was. He himself was the rider, and the boy made a desperate effort to sweep him off, but lost control of the pole, slipped and went flat on his face. Stefan almost fell out of the saddle laughing.

Colin was red with fury, Jean-Marie was nearly crying, but it was Robert who lost his temper. He threw down his pole and said ‘This is stupid. Of course he can’t bloody do it, he’s shorter than the rest of us.’

Stefan smiled. ‘Pick up the pole, Thibault.’

Robert glared at him and folded his arms. He never seemed that scared of Stefan, he used to say he was only a smelly tanner and if he didn’t start treating us better then he’d just leave.

The boy scrambled quickly up on his knees, and said ‘Please, Robert, it’s all right.’

Robert looked at him in confusion. He couldn’t let his Seigneur get pushed around by someone like Stefan, it went against everything he believed in.

‘Please,’ whispered André.

Robert lowered his eyes, then bent and picked up his pole.

‘All right,’ said Stefan, amiably. ‘But if André wants to stay in the army with the rest of you, he’s got to do the same as the rest of you. Right, we’ll try that again.’

There was this awful silence. The boy climbed slowly to his feet and I handed him his pole. He wiped the earth from his face with his sleeve, and walked into position. His expression was grim.

Stefan went off round the corner on Duchesse, then came cantering back towards us. This time André didn’t even try to sweep him off, he just leapt out in front of Duchesse and thrust the pole right at her eyes, making her rear in fright. Stefan was thrown clear off her back and smack on the ground, and the boy had the pole across his throat in a second.

I didn’t dare laugh. We all watched in silence as Stefan picked himself up and brushed the dirt off his clothes. The boy stood back and waited, looking nervously defiant.

Stefan walked over to him and looked down with an expression I couldn’t read. Then he said ‘All right, good enough,’ and turned away.

That’s when I realized how close to cracking the boy really was. He came back to the barn that night, and just sat on his blanket thumping his fist against the wall and saying ‘That bastard. That bloody bastard.’ I knew he was only hanging on for the chance to kill the enemy, and had the feeling if it didn’t happen soon he’d go and kill Stefan Ravel instead.

The last day we were doing sword drill. André would have been brilliant at that, of course, so Stefan said he didn’t need it and made him clean muskets instead. The boy didn’t complain, he just sat miserably working away and trying not to watch the rest of us enjoying ourselves, but when it was over Stefan had a go at him anyway and said two guns weren’t done well enough, a fouled musket could cost a man’s life in action.

He picked up the dirty muskets and slung them at André. ‘There you go. Get those strapped to your back, run round the base ten times, then report back to me.’

Nobody moved. We were all staring at André, and I knew this was it. Then he bent down, picked up the two heavy muskets and looked Stefan full in the face.

‘All right,’ he said, and actually smiled. ‘All right.’

So I strapped him up and watched him set off, the guns banging up and down on his back all the way. I knew he was going to be black with bruises.

‘What’s he done?’ said a voice behind me.

Giles had turned up for duty with his own unit, and was leaning against the Hermitage wall with Philippe. I told them the boy hadn’t done anything, it was just Stefan being a bastard, and Philippe smiled sadly through his gap tooth and patted my shoulder.

‘I know, M. Jacques, I know. Our poor Ravel.’

‘Poor
Ravel
?’ I said, suddenly furious. ‘What about poor André?’

‘Of course,’ said Philippe hastily. He never liked any kind of row. ‘But he’s a troubled soul, young Ravel. A bad experience in the army, I think. Something to do with his brother. We have to make allowances.’

I tried to feel sorry for Stefan, but it was no good, the minute I pictured him I just wanted to smash his face in. I said ‘No we bloody don’t. Wait till M. Gauthier hears about this, he’ll kill him.’

‘I expect he will,’ said Giles calmly. He was wadding up tobacco leaves to chew and didn’t look at me at all. ‘And then we’ll lose our best soldier. Do you think that’s what he wants, that boy out there?’

André was coming round again. He seemed lower to the ground, his knees were buckling, but he was still going, pounding along, head down, seeing nothing but the Spaniards he was earning the right to fight.

I looked at Giles but he was chewing his tobacco and apparently enjoying it.

I said ‘I won’t tell M. Gauthier.’

Giles looked up at me and the brown skin round his eyes crinkled into a smile.

‘You’ll do, soldier,’ he said, tipped his hat and strolled away.

Stefan Ravel

I don’t know where you get your ideas from, Abbé, but you’re wrong this time. There was nothing personal, it was all for the good of the army. The kid was holding up better than I expected, but I knew there was a weakness somewhere, and only hoped I’d find it before it did too much damage.

The dons decided otherwise. We’d ambushed two patrols that last week, but it seemed the bastards were starting to work it out, and our last attempt brought a load out from hiding at the first sound of gunfire. That big Flamand, Bettremieu Libert, he took a ball in the arm, and we were lucky to get the team out alive. It might have been an accident, but Marcel sent Gauthier and Leroux out scouting the fringes next day, and they both reported groups of these pickets camping out in the woods, poor frozen sods, just waiting for the sound of our next ambush. Marcel and I discussed it, and thought we’d have to find another way.

So when the little Sieur of Dax came panting back in to me that afternoon with a back that resembled a child’s hoop and a look that would have exploded fireworks, I just said ‘Very good. You’ll sleep well tonight, young André, and be fine and fresh for tomorrow.’

He looked at me warily. ‘Tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ I said, lifting the first musket off him, which was tricky since it seemed to be adhering to his shirt with sweat. ‘We’re doing a silent action tomorrow, sword and pike, no guns. I thought our unit might be right for the job, but of course if you’re not up to it …’

‘I’m up to it,’ he said at once, his back straightening with a creak you could have heard in Lucheux. ‘You know I am, Stefan, I’m up to it.’

And do you know, I really thought he was.

Jacques Gilbert

André was quiet that morning. He hardly spoke through breakfast, and Mother thought he might be sickening for something. She leant forward to put her hand on his forehead, but he only took it firmly and said ‘It’s all right, Nelly, I promise.’ She looked at him uncertainly, but he patted her hand and gave it back, so at last she said ‘Dear André,’ and sat down. Father got up and slammed noisily outside.

They didn’t know, of course, they’d got no idea what we were really doing. We were supposed to keep the army secret from our families, and most of us probably did, but that morning I found it hard. It isn’t every day you deliberately set out to kill someone.

We walked to the Hermitage and found the others in the same kind of serious mood. Even Stefan was different, he spoke almost gently as he ran through what we’d got to do. It was reassuring in a way, but in another it made everything feel more serious, and I know I was getting twitchy when at last we set out through the forest. We’d heard rumours about pickets listening for us, and the leaves seemed to crackle under my boots with every step.

We were on the Back Road, which had the Dax-Verdâme woods to the south and the Forest of Dax to the north, and Stefan had picked a section inside a kind of bend so we were out of view from either direction. The trees came right up to the road, and there were four with branches at exactly the right height. It looked perfect.

Colin and Jean-Marie took a tree either side and looped their rope over the branches to trail across the road between them, then we covered it with dead leaves so the patrol wouldn’t see it till it was too late. Stefan and Robert were in bushes further along, armed with home-made pike, then it was me and the boy with swords. We had the muskets loaded and stacked together beneath the signal tree, but they weren’t to be touched unless it was that or die. Stefan had a bloody great pistol shoved down his belt as well, but when Robert mentioned it Stefan just said it was his ‘safety’ and stared him right out.

We had the dullest part, the boy and me. Our job was to raise a second rope after the riders went past, so they couldn’t escape back the way they’d come. Stefan did say we could join the others once the men were safely on the ground, but I didn’t fancy that much, I didn’t like the idea of six of us hacking at two people on the ground, not even Spanish soldiers.

Giles sauntered up, reported there wasn’t a sign of a picket for a mile in either direction, then climbed expertly up the signal tree to watch for the patrol. Everyone settled carefully into their positions, and that was it, we were ready.

Half an hour later we still were. I hate waiting anyway, and that rope-thing was the worst. The first few minutes are fine, you’re all excited and expect it to be happening kind of now. Then it gets boring, and your arm starts to ache from holding the rope still so as not to mess up the camouflage. Then you start to think about what could go wrong and what you’ll do if it does, then the nice clear instructions you started with get fogged, and you realize you’ve been daydreaming and maybe missed the signal, and your hand twitches and you have to look round to see if anyone’s noticed.

I couldn’t even talk to the boy because he was on the other side of the road. He was lying facing me, so I winked at him, and he winked back then mimed going to sleep with boredom. I felt a little laugh bubbling up inside. Then he did an imitation of a disapproving Stefan, and I couldn’t help it, I started miming back. I did Pinhead, I just hunched my shoulders and let my mouth flop open and he was giggling so much the rope started to twitch.

The voice of Stefan came out of a bush like God. He said ‘Pack it in, you two, it’s not a fucking game.’

That made us even worse, but then I heard Giles speaking above us, and he was saying calmly ‘Here you go, boys. Two.’ I lowered myself back down into cover. My hand had stopped shaking, and I found I was calm.

There were hoofbeats coming from Dax, and when I peered upwards I could see the horses, a nice little cob in the lead, then a bloody great warhorse with ragged hocks. They were quicker than I’d thought and in a second they were past. The rope jerked in my hand and I knew the boy was ready even if I wasn’t. I pulled and we brought the rope up neatly between us.

I looked ahead to the others, and saw the horses skittering and falling into confusion as the rope shot up before them. The cob was caught tight across the breast, it screamed in fright and reared, the man struggling to hold on, then he was down, and Colin and Jean-Marie were on him, Colin’s axe sweeping high in the air. But the second rider was too far behind, he’s seen what’s happening, and he’s turning, dodging Stefan, he’s going to get back, and he’s coming straight for us and our rope. We brace ourselves for the impact.

But he’s seen it in time, he’s swerving and bringing the horse right into the woods to go round us. He’s one fuck of a rider, the horse is panicking but he’s got control of it, he’s coming round and right at me. Robert’s dashing in front, pike held high like the boy did it, but the Spaniard thrusts forward, it’s the big warhorse, he aims straight at Robert and rides him down. Somehow I’m moving, I have to, that’s Robert on the ground, those great hooves ready to smash his skull with one blow. I’ve got the bridle, I’ve got the horse, I’m calming it, but the rider’s pulling against me, his other hand’s coming round, there’s a pistol in it, and it’s aimed at me.

Then the boy’s beside me, I hear him yelling. He gets hold of the man’s leg, and the rider’s twisting to bring the pistol round to him, but just for half a second the armpit’s exposed under the cuirass, and that’s all the boy needs, his hand’s round with the sword, he’s using the leg to hoist himself up, and he’s up and lunged, sword arm straight to the blade, and the point’s sheered right in that tiny space under the armpit, right in. The rider’s collapsing, and I help the boy pull him down, but he’s not dead, the boy stuck him at full reach but it’s not deep enough, and I finish it with my own blade in his throat. I’m so afraid of not lunging hard enough I push right through till the guard’s against his chin, there’s hot blood pouring over my hands, and I withdraw quickly as he crashes the last foot to the ground.