Under guard in Lisbon

Stephen flapped his hand. "No, no, do not fuss now." He shakily pushed himself up. "A little lingering confusion, and a headache, but I am fine." He took the beaker of water, swallowing it quickly - some went down the wrong way; he coughed, wiped his mouth and eyes, and drained the cup. "Thank you."

Raoul took the beaker back and stood looking down at Maturin. "Then, if you are now fine, you must allow me to say thank you." He touched the cut on his neck. "I think he would have killed me if you had not come to the rescue." He tried to smile. "I am grateful. I ..." I hope you think it worth the headache could not be said, but earlier he had thought that Maturin would have been glad to see him dead on the road.

To change the subject he said "You were calling for Jack, earlier, when you came round. I could not reassure you he was safe... "

Stephen looked very embarrassed. "You are welcome. You said yourself, you would have done the same for me. It was no great feat - he was too fast for me."

He looked around, and some memory of what he had said in his confusion returned. "Ah, Jack. He is my particular friend." He would not say his surname though, not yet. "I am quite sure he is safe, God willing, back in England. He is newly-wed; if he had got himself into trouble, I would have throttled him myself."

Raoul smiled at the warmth in Maturin's face and voice. "Otherwise he would have been with you, I suppose. And throttling you for geting yourself hurt. But you were believed you were on board ship, a shipwreck?" He grimaced. "I am sorry, I talk too much, when you should be resting. Should I find Mr Whiting? I - you are not yet well."

"Not at all." It was easier to talk about Jack, which came so easily, while his mind rearranged his thoughts on its own. "More likely that I would be with him. And Jack would be most concerned; it would be his steward who would throttle me. I will be well in a moment - I need only a minute or two on the bed." A shipwreck...? "I thought we were sailing back from India. I had a period of confusion then also, of delirium, lasting much longer. I could hear waves."

Raoul listened. "I do not think you could hear waves from the Tower, unless the sea was much worse. They are thick walls."

"Do you often sail with your friend? No wonder you thought you had been shipwrecked. But he is married, and you have come here." He bit off the rest of what he wanted to ask.

Stephen shook his head. "They were not real waves. I presume it was my heartbeat in my ears - in a storm, the rhythm can be similar. I work as a surgeon, in the Royal Navy. And I had no wish to sail with anyone but Jack - I am not made for the sea."

You work as a surgeon in the Royal Navy, yet here you are - or claim to be - the physician to General Sir Arthur Wellesley. And more than that. Raoul felt chilled. He owed Maturin a debt now, and yet anything he learned about him, he would be duty-bound to pass on to - someone. To someone like Ickx, when he was exchanged. But surely none of this would be news to those who monitored British espionage?

Yet he could not just stand staring dumbly down at him as if pole-axed. "I have little experience of ships. I have sailed no further than to France from England. I cannot remember when we went to England, so it may not have been as bad. I think I too am not made for the sea."

"It is a cruel element." His mind was still fogged and dulled, but fear was beginning to creep back into him. He remembered that his visit to des Sablières was to determine if the man was suitable for exchange. He thought he might be coming to a conclusion. "There was nothing binding me to it save my friend, and there is more use for a physician here than treating fainting fits and histrionics in England or elsewhere."

"Your friend has given up the sea? It must be hard to leave your family behind for so long." He bit his lip. "Not to hear from those you love is a strange loss - even if you believe they are well. It must be worse for those left behind, who have to know of the dangers you face. And if you are in India, or round the other side of the world, how do you let them know you are safe? We have received no letters from home since we came to Portugal. I cannot be sure that mine have reached them. But now I will write and tell them I am safe."

"He would never give up the sea, but the Royal Navy does not bow to the whims of those who serve it." Stephen shrugged. "I have no family, but letters can reach friends, by the post ships. Many months after they are sent, of course, but the get there more often than not, and sometimes there is a letter waiting for one in port. And of course you may send a letter to your family, as long as you write within the limits of your parole." Stephen would have any letters des Sablières wrote intercepted, but he would send them on if they were harmless.

"Thank you, I will do so. But the Earl - Colonel Edrington - he will see that my parents hear - probably even more quickly." And that would be simpler, since to write anything meaningful would be painful both for him and for them. Adrienne would see the gaps he left and worry. All his letters since the winter had been like that, full of cheerfulness, and with nearly all details omitted. Even writing about the weather had been too revealing to be included.

"Very well." Stephen nodded thoughtfully. If he should die in Portugal, he wanted Jack to know, and then he could say as he willed to Sophie and Diana. He could trust Sir Joseph to do right by him in that case, but he would have a word with Hogan to make sure.

There was a sombre look on Maturin's face, which worried Raoul. Was he concerned for his friend?

The door opened and Mr Whiting came in, looking relieved to find Maturin conscious. "You should have called," he scolded Raoul, and then added: "My British patients are even more trouble than the French. But I have no worries about your young man. A heavy blow, and he was dazed for a few moments, but no concussion. Nevertheless I have decided we should keep him with us until tomorrow."

He crossed over and laid a hand over the doctor's. "And how are you, now? That was a much worse blow, given your existing condition."

Stephen looked at Whiting with relief, giving a wobbly smile. "Alive, I find - a little shaking weakness, and a great pain in the head, but conscious. I was confused, and an element of post-trauma amnesia, but both are to be expected, and I think I am recovering now. I am glad to hear that Aucoin is well."

"Then stay here and rest until you feel well - you cannot go back to Lisbon until you are fully recovered. And I don't think we need the room." Whiting glanced dubiously towards Raoul. He could not spare the time or the men to sit with Maturin, and he did not yet look fully recovered. There had been a blow on an already fractured skull, and what looked like convulsions. "Shall I leave the Capitaine to sit with you? Capitaine?"

"There is no need; the confusion is gone now." Stephen shook his head, and pushed himself into a sitting position. "I need to get back - we leave Lisbon today." He swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I thank you for your attention, both of you, but I am quite recov-"

Raoul caught the doctor as his legs collapsed beneath him. Whiting was there immediately afterwards, helping Raoul lay the unconsious man back on the bed. The surgeon made his examination, and pursed his lips. "There is nothing we can do but wait. With good fortune this is no more than a temporary lapse and he will regain consciousness soon, and be fully recovered. Stay here, Capitaine, if you will. Call me if he wakes, or if he becomes agitated." There were other patients, and nothing to do for Dr Maturin at this stage.

The room was filled with sunlight when he first opened his eyes, momentarily blinding him. When he could see something more than a field of white, he lifted his head, and remembered. Torre, Belem, Lisbon. The pain in his head was still there, excruciating, as was nausea and and swimming, swaying dizziness, but no confusion, thank the Dear - clear, blessed lucidity.

He recognised the grey cloth and distinctive collar which told him that the man at his bedside was Capitaine des Sablières. "You should be with your men. You do not need to sit here."

Unlike the earlier return to consiousness, this was accompanied by no confusion, and Raoul smiled in relief. "I was told to stay, and to call Mr Whiting when you awoke. I will do so, and if he says I may - and if you wish - I will leave you alone." He stood to go to the door and stopped, looking down. From the look of his face it would be some hours before Maturin was ready to leave Belem. He resolved to wait, to ensure that the doctor was not left to make his own way back - he would probably refuse all offers of help, being stubbornly convinced that he could overcome his weaknesses.

He asked an orderly to fetch the surgeon, and waited by the door, frowning, his eyes on Maturin.

Stephen looked to the side, and then met des Sablières' eyes. "I fainted, I presume?" he said, covering his embarrassment with defiance.

"Yes - or so it seemed to me. You tried to stand up and ..." Raoul half-smiled at the doctor's attitude. "If you promise not to try that again, you may be safely left alone. But I think that as soon as there is no one around, you will think yourself fully recovered - and you are far from that." His face became grave. "You neglect yourself, doctor. And you cannot carry on doing that. Does no one tell you to stop and let yourself recover?"

Not here. He looked shifty. "Promise not to try what again, exactly?"

Raoul grinned. "Promise not to try to move from that bed. Until you are told that you are fit to do so. Or I shall stay here and not let you get up."

Stephen glared, and des Sablières' grin made him glare even more. "You shall do no such thing, you infamous poxed brute. Am I not the doctor here? I am perfectly capable of deciding when I am able to move."