'True. But you tell me that Massena and Soult are bitterly jealous of each other, so it is unlikely that the latter will come to his colleague's aid. In any case, if it is not delivered for a week, it would be too late for him to intervene effectively.'
'What, then, is to be gained by delivering it at all?'
'It would provide a reason for your arriving at his headquarters.'
'My lord, Roger said with a frown. 'When we first talked of my former activities, I made it plain that I was most averse to risking my life again carrying out secret missions; so I pray you to excuse me.'
Wellington leaned forward, his bright eyes held Roger's and his voice was earnest. 'Mr. Brook, you have already rendered me a great service. You have it in your power to do me another, and no one else enjoys the unique dual personality that enables you to talk on intimate terms with French Army Commanders. By going to Soult you could, I am certain, find out his intentions. If he means to remain in Seville, well and good. But should he march north, even belatedly, although he would be too late to aid Massena, he could cut my communications with Lisbon. Warned in time I could still pursue Massena, but not with my whole force. I'd detach a division under Hill or Picton to guard my rear and hold off Soult until I had been able to retire to the safety of my base here, I ask this not only for myself, but for our country.'
Roger sighed, then gave a pale smile. 'How can I refuse, my lord? So be it, then. But last time I had a very adequate reason for leaving Lisbon. What excuse can I give to Sir Charles and others for again disappearing beyond the lines?'
After a moment's thought, Wellington replied, 'Since you speak French, Portuguese and Spanish fluently, you could become a useful member of my staff. I will appoint you one of my civilian secretaries, have you given some work which will keep you employed for a week, and orders that, when it is completed, you should join me in the field. But instead, of course, you will proceed to Seville.'
So once more the die was cast and, none too happily, Roger made his way back to the Legation.
In the morning he told the Stuarts of his appointment. Mary was torn between pride that her cavalier should have elected to take an active part in the war, and disappointment that he would not be able to accompany her and Deborah again on their afternoon drives. But she was greatly cheered when Sir Charles assisted that Roger should continue to occupy a room at the Legation, which would enable her to see quite a lot of him.
Roger then reported at Wellington's headquarters. The General had already left, but before leaving he had briefed his chief secretary, who gave Roger a pile of Portuguese documents to translate. He found the work laborious and dull, but as the secretary was unaware of the secret reason for Roger's appointment, there was no avoiding it; and he was somewhat consoled by being able to enjoy Mary's vivacious company in the evenings.
On Sunday the Stuarts made up a party with several friends to drive out and picnic at Cintra, Deborah was not well, so was unable to accompany them, with the result that, after the meal, Roger for once had Mary on her own for well over an hour. Together they strolled through the wood of cork trees that covered the big hill dominating the plain. Having come upon a mossy bank, they sat down on it. Presently she said in a low voice:
'Mr. Brook, since you lost your wife, have you ever thought of marrying again?'
For some time past he had sensed that she was falling in love with him, and instinct told him now that she had asked the question to give him an opening. Anxious to spare her feelings, he smiled at her, shook his head and lied:
'No, my dear, I am too restless a type to settle down to a domestic life. Were I a much younger man, and not set in my ways, I'd propose to you; for you will make a sweet wife for some lucky fellow. But I am old enough to be your father and, after a few months, you would find me impossible to live with. So that is entirely out of the question.5
'Perhaps you're right, she murmured a little sadly. 'But I believe I could make you happy.
He took her hand and pressed it. 'You could indeed, were I able to shed ten or fifteen years. But, since I cannot, we must just remain good friends.'
For a moment she was silent. Suddenly she laughed, turned her face up to him and said, "Then that's reason enough for you to kiss me.'
Laughing in reply, he took her in his arms and put his lips to hers; but it was a very gentle kiss, quite unlike those he normally gave to women.
Her arms went round his neck and she pressed herself against him. He could feel her heart pounding and her lips began to move under his. Greatly tempted as he was to respond, he quickly controlled himself. Taking his mouth from hers, he kissed her on the ear, the hair and the nose. Then he held her away from him, shook his head and said:
'You are a wicked little baggage. Had I been a younger man, you might have led me to seduce you. Then there would have been tears and a sad ending to our friendship. Come now, put your pretty bonnet straight, and we'll rejoin the others.'
For a moment she looked chastened, then she pouted and said, 'I think it horrid in you to have formed such an opinion of me.'
Laughing, he pulled her to her feet, dusted off some fallen leaves that were clinging to her dress and took her by the arm. Within a few minutes she was smiling again and chattering away as merrily as ever.
On the morning of March 11th, Roger said good bye to her and the Stuarts and set off for Seville. For several days past, after the long months of stagnation, Lisbon had been in a fever of excitement as news from the front came in. The two armies were in close contact and Massena was retreating; but his retreat showed no sign of becoming a rout. Under their veteran leaders, his divisions were taking advantage of every favourable piece of ground to fight rearguard actions. But they were severely hampered by having lost so many horses, and those that survived were too weak to charge; so the British cavalry were having a field day, cutting down small bodies of French, or taking them prisoner wherever they came upon them.
As Roger crossed the few miles between Lisbon and the now abandoned lines of Torres Vedras, he encountered several small batches of these tattered, woebegone captives, who had hardly the strength left to continue marching, being brought in. While in the opposite direction, a constant stream of reinforcements and supply wagons was moving up toward the front. Beyond the lines the stream flowed on north-eastward, but he turned away to the south-east and, not long afterwards, was riding through deserted country.
By road Seville was a good two hundred and fifty miles away and the greater part of the journey lay through mountainous regions. As he could not hope to secure remounts, he expected it to take him the best part of a week, and the possibility of his being able to buy meals was dubious, so he had with him a good supply of food.
During the whole of the first day he was still in the great area of middle Portugal, where the earth had been scorched, so he saw only a few peasants in the distance. That night he slept in a deserted farmhouse. It was not until the evening of the second day that he entered a village which was still inhabited. There, to account for the foreign accent with which he spoke Portuguese, he said that he was a Spaniard from the Basque country in the far north. The man to whom he spoke accepted his statement without question and, in one of the few stone houses, he ate a meal of stew, then slept the night there.
For some weeks past the weather had been mainly good, with many days of spring sunshine. But when he woke next morning, he found that it had broken. Rain was teeming down, and he spent a miserable day alternately trotting and walking his horse up and down steep gradients, where the indifferent roads had become muddy rivers. Still worse, when twilight fell he was up in the mountains and, although he rode doggedly on until it was almost dark, he failed to come upon a village. Soaked to the skin, he spent a miserable night huddled in a cave.