On Parole in Lisbon

"It would have been foolish indeed," Stephen said. "But luckily I dropped this in the struggle before you came upon us," he continued with a grateful, pointed smile.

Raoul smiled back. "It was very lucky," he agreed. "But I am glad to be able to give it back to you."

"Thank you, indeed," Stephen said with a nod, slipping the pistol into the pocket of his coat. He looked back at the table and seeing the shredded ham, his frown deepened. He scooped it into a pile and put that into an opened-up piece of bread, but did not eat it.

"Do try to eat, my dear doctor," Raoul said softly. "Whatever has to be done tomorrow, you will be stronger..." Dr Maturin was looking more composed now, his hands less tremulous, his speech was firmer, but Raoul did not think he was recovered in the least. Even one night's sleep would not restore him, but it would do something to help - better than pushing himself beyond his limits. A soldier could do that - should, since he had to keep up with everyone else. But Dr Maturin was driven by a sense of duty, and, Raoul realised, a concern for him that covered his physical, mental and spirtual well-being. He reached out his hand. "I do not think that I can thank you for everything you have done for me," he said. "But I will forever be in your debt."

Stephen looked up in shock, and took his hand as if in a dream. Raoul swam. "Thank me? For the love of God, Capitaine, I have brought you only trouble and grief. I- And in return you have only-" The intensity of his emotion and distress was tempered by a sudden light-headedness; he gripped des Sablières' hand. "Nothing to deserve a debt - a debt, forsooth - save if it be in misery, but I cannot-"

Raoul felt the clasp of the doctor's hand, and returned it. "I am serious," he said, although his smile was warm. "If I have trouble and grief, you did not cause it: I did, before ever I met you. You have shown nothing but concern for me, despite what I did - even your anger, I think."

It was an unfathomable generosity of spirit, to absolve him in such a way; Stephen squeezed his eyes shut to avoid being unmanned entirely. "Thank you," he managed, before his throat constricted. It was bruising, he decided as he took a deep, ragged breath, and swelling around the neck where he had been choked, and the head trauma. And Raoul's kindness.

He had not meant to have quite such an effect. "If we are to travel together, it is as well to say such things now. You are not the one responsible for where I find myself. I have never considered you so."

"I do..." Stephen gave a tremulous smile. "You are right, Capitaine - it will certainly make the journey more pleasant, and safer also. It will be quite long, even if Captain Padstowe is on horseback. It seems a long way off yet, however."

Raoul sat back and picked up the glass of wine again. "Then we can drink to a pleasant ride, and ... How is Captain Padstowe?"

Stephen raised his glass and sipped the wine. "Recovering, slowly. There are some mental elements that cause me some concern, to do with a deep distaste for analgesics, but he begins to recover from his anorexia, and his strength returns in direct proportion. Today he was able to bear some of his own weight, which was very encouraging." It seemed like weeks ago.

"I was surprised when I saw him - that was a vicious attack. And ... Is it possible that it was the men who attacked you. If he had somehow given them to think he knew about them?"

Stephen's face grew dark - he picked up the bread and ham, finally taking a bite from it and chewing thoughtfully. "I have a suspicion of who his attacker was, given to me by another officer and the captain himself; a British soldier, looking for a private revenge,"

"This soldier, he has left Lisbon?" Raoul grimaced. If not, then it was one more threat to them in this place. He remembered thinking how pleasant and peaceful Lisbon was compared to Oporto - but that was only on the surface. "Or will he be waiting for Captain Padstowe when we reach the Army?"

"He marches now, and he will not hurt Captain Padstowe again," Stephen said simply.

Raoul took in the expression on Dr Maturin's face, and felt the chill. The soldier would be well advised to desert, before they reached the column, if that look meant anything. "Can it be proved?" he asked.

"It does not appear so - besides, they have already flogged another soldier for being in possession of the captain's watch, stolen in the attack - some convoluted story of friends and revenge and..." Stephen waved his hand wearily. "I have been warned that he is clever, and vicious."

Raoul smiled suddenly. "Then I will help you catch him. I do not know how, my... Dr Maturin, but I can see no conflict between my duties as a Frenchman and seeing to the punishment of a British soldier, even if it is for crimes against a British officer."

Stephen responded with a smile. "Ah, Capitaine. We shall see, we shall see. We have quite enough monstrous characters to be dealing with here, for the moment."

"I thought a soldier, however monstrous, must be easier to identify, easier to find, to arrest, and to try. And to convict, so we say. Give him a fair trial, and hang him." He smiled to show that it had been meant as a joke - one he had first heard in England, though it had translated well into French.

Stephen shooks his head. "This is Wellesley's army, not Lake's - no evidence, and Padstowe could not swear on his word that it was this particular man - we only have a motive, and the suggestion of another officer. No scrap of evidence at all, alas."

Raoul's voice was very soft. "For us it would depend on if he was guilty or not - or if it was strongly believed. If so, we would have trial, the man would be found guilty and hanged. But if he was known to be not guilty of any crime, then ... other ways. No!" He spoke sharply to avoid Maturin's imminent question. "I will tell you one day, but not now, for fear I should say too much."

Stephen gently raised a hand to indicate that he would leave the Frenchman in peace in the matter, but his curiosity was piqued, and his intuition flared. He stared down at the tabletop, but glanced askance at des Sablières.

It was the air of the confessional that still hung about the quiet sitting room, Raoul knew. Air charged with gratitude and guilt and what was for him a now familiar sense of confusion. He would probably never know whether Louis Martin's death had been deliberate, or one of the normal risks of war, but Louis had suspected something, in his last letter. Even so, Raoul could have mentioned it, as an example of private malice. Dr Maturin, however, would take it as another example of the evil of the Bonapartist regime, and their intelligence services in particular.

Louis had been right, in that last letter: Do not get involved with them, my dear Raoul, be very wary when they are around, and do not, whatever else you do, cross them, because they have ways of making you pay. Of course, if I am wrong, you will not receive this, and will miss my excellent advice.

Stephen watched des Sablières, who had a tense, pensive expression on his face. He leant over to reach for the bottle, and filled the captain's glass again, his own expression one of question and concern.