On Parole in Lisbon

Half the brandy had spilled from the glass, and Raoul put it down on the table. His own hands were shaking, and there was a prickling behind his eyes, that he would not acknowledge. He stayed where he was, looking at the doctor with a slight frown.

"It is probably another wrong decision," he said. "But I owe you a debt of gratitude, for myself and my men. And I will not betray that. Do you want my word on it?"

Stephen had begun to shake his head, but then he swallowed, and looked at des Sablières again. His voice was soft and ragged, as though he spoke through a constricted throat. "You are a loyal French captain, and thus an enemy. I cannot trust you. But I think that I can trust your honour. So. Please."

Raoul sat back on his heels, the frown still between his brows. "Then I will give you my word. I shall say nothing about you - about what I know about your other activities - to anyone. You are the man who treated my men, after they were taken, and you have kept me informed of their progress. That is all. And that I shall say only if pressed to explain our - how I know you at all. Otherwise, I will not even mention you. It is easier that way." His own breath was ragged as he tried to assess what he was saying. "I shall not betray you to anyone, I promise," he added, simply. If that was disloyalty, then so be it. He felt lighter now, as if the step that he had taken freed him from some weight.

Stephen hardly dared to hope. "And if- and when you are exchanged?"

Raoul stared back at him. "If Brissac or anyone returns to Oporto, then I cannot stop them knowing you were there. But - " He smiled. "I am a simple and stupid soldier, who does not know what we were doing chasing British soldiers halfway to Lisbon. Why should I? Yes, there was a doctor with them who treated my men. That is all."

Stephen felt as though an immeasurable burden had been lifted from him - the world seemed clearer and even kinder. "Thank you. I cannot say what- Thank you, Capitaine."

Raoul stood up and returned to his chair. The waiter had left the brandy bottle as well as the glasses and he poured himself enough, and took it. "I give you my word, because I wish to. For my sake, so that if questions are asked I already know what answers to give. You might say that is lying. But for me it balances my honour in this." He could imagine the questions his colonel would ask. And then, as he felt his face grow pale and clammy, he realized that someone like Ickx might be there, if those circles had any knowledge of Maturin.

Stephen did not quite trust himself yet to pick up the glass of brandy, but as he saw des Sablières' face he felt his relief begin to ebb. "Are you all right, Capitaine? What is wrong?"

"My colonel will be supremely uninterested in you or the papers. He will want to know what I did to preserve my men, and to extricate them. I think I should prepare answers to that too. It is that interview that I dread." Or the other, the last interview, which without question would be the worst. Ickx was dead, but the power that he wielded and the influence that he had still existed. "I have given my word. I believe it will be enough."

"As do I," said Stephen, truthfully. "As for your men, you did everything in your power to preserve them, but some put pride before preservation. That is not your fault. You did everything you could."

Raoul sat back with a sigh of relief. "Thank you. If I am exchanged, I will hope for similar understanding. Every exchanged officer must face the same question, unless they were badly wounded. It will not be so bad." It would not be soon, either, he thought, and between now and then the French in Oporto would presumably have more to worry about than a small troop of Hussars.

Maturin looked as if he too had been relieved of a burden, and should now be able to face a meal. "Would you order, please?" Raoul asked. "I too now raven."

"In our Navy, if a ship is lost, the captain and all the officers are court-martialed - I am not entirely sure it engenders loyalty, but if you tell them your reasons, five lives also stand testament to your efforts."

Stephen stood up with a faint smile. "I will not be a moment."

Raoul watched Maturin as he spoke to the man who had brought them the brandy. He could remember the first time he had seen him, an alleged physician in civilian clothes in the midst of riflemen. He had known him then for an enemy. When had his point of view shifted round so that he almost counted the man as a friend, and watched him with concern rather than dread?

While waiting he thought about what Maturin had said. A court martial?

Stephen came back carrying a wooden board. "Bread, sausages, and apples for a returning customer," he said lightly, placing it on the table. The few minutes had not been nearly enough time to get his thoughts in order. He was unsure as to exactly why des Sablières had given his word to not speak of him, unless it was entirely due to gratitude, as he had said. The Frenchman was clearing worrying about something though.

He sat down, but did not reach for the food. "Are you sure you are all right, Capitaine?"

"Of course I am," said Raoul quickly. "But there is much to think about, from what you told me earlier, and what we have said just now. I am - I hope I am a loyal soldier of France, but I cannot wish to betray you, even to my own people. I find myself thinking how glad I am that we did not succeed in taking you - which is to say, that I am glad that we were defeated... There is no right answer, but I feel better, that I have given you my word." He reached out and took a piece of bread. "Which must answer my question, I think."

Stephen smiled sadly at the Frenchman. "It would have been... A lot of people would have died," he said simply, reaching forward for the bread. "You are a man, and a good man, I believe, before a soldier of France. And so not delight in a defeat, but relief, possibly..." He leant back. "There is indeed much to think about. I can only thank you for your word though."

Raoul nodded. "That was easy to give. And better that you know."

He speared some of the sausage to lay on his piece of bread. "If I had known you before - if, for example I had found my lord Edrington in that group of soldiers - I might have wondered whether I had lost deliberately - to fail because I did not wish to succeed. But that is not in question. No, we lost because we were beaten by your Riflemen - and the irregulars." He shivered slightly, then before biting into the sausage he asked: "Have you ever seen such a court martial? How do they decide the Captain's guilt?"

"I was in one myself, when our ship was taken. We gave our statements - the captain and crew did everything in their power to prevent capture - everyone agreed that no one was of any fault, and all were acquitted."

He saw the captain's face. Ah. "Of course, this was only because the ship was lost - they did not give an iota for lost lives. And you-" He touched des Sablières wrist. "You must not worry at all, now. We have enough to think about without what will almost certainly never come to pass. The only thing you could be found guilty of is protecting the lives of your men, and if you are punished for that then they do not deserve your loyalty. Not, I think, that they deserve it anyway, for they are as scurrilous as you are not."

Raoul swallowed the mouthful and smiled. "We shall not have that argument again - it will ruin these rather good sausages."

He thought he would ask about the loss of the ship. A neutral subject, or as near as could be managed between them. But first, he should make sure that Maturin ate, and not distract him with questions. "Eat your sausage," he urged, before commenting: "What you say about the ship being of more value than the men, that is true. For the Army, I suppose it would be the same as surrendering a fortress, or a city. Or perhaps for a Regiment to lose their Eagle."

"It was intended as a compliment, monsieur, but it is a sad fact as well." Stephen's appetite had not entirely recovered from his shock, but he was hungry, so he just shook his head and began to eat. It returned in full and almost painful force as soon as the first mouthful reached his stomach, and he grew more wolfish.

"That is quite likely - a great many men, as well as arms, and then if is captured the ship might be used against our own side, as a fortress might. And then you have the shocking loss of pride when one of His Majesty's Ships is taken - the idea of it refitted and used to take other ships is nigh unbearable to a naval mind."

"Yet it happens often," said Raoul, cutting himself some more sausage, and noting with satisfaction that Maturin was eating with increasing appetite. "A ship will change hands, be renamed, and possibly even taken again. Yet Captains do surrender their ships, rather than destroy them and all on board, so perhaps it is not unlike my position."

He breathed a laugh. "I remember the Battle of the Nile," he said, shaking his head. "The excitement at the ships taken, and at a famous victory - the horror that the Orient had blown up."

The Battle of the Nile - August 1798. Fitzgerald had been arrested in May of that year, New Ross and Vinegar Hill had been in June, and Wolfe Tone had not been captured until October: in August, Stephen had been alternatively fleeing and hiding, with Dillon and others.

"Excitement at the victory?" asked Stephen, putting his bread down and frowning in confusion. "Did the British not win the Battle of the Nile? I am sure they did. My friend was there, and he talks of it often. I cannot imagine you were there though."

Raoul nodded, suppressing a smile. "No, I was not there. I was twelve years old, and for a few weeks I thought I might like to go to sea. We had flags in the village, and read the reports eagerly. That was before my parents decided to return to France, of course. We learned of the British victory at Trafalgar in a very different mood."

He smiled openly, and asked: "Which ship was your friend on? You are talking of Jack, the Captain you sail with - forgive the familiarity, but I do not know his surname."

"Ah, I see," said Stephen, thinking that it was no wonder young des Sablières felt a conflict of loyalties. "Jack was on HMS Leander - which was, I believe, captured only one or two weeks after the battle, and entered into French service." He smiled back, but would say no more on the matter. Anyone in French intelligence might know, or easily find out, that Captain Jack Aubrey RN always sailed with a physician called Maturin, but he would not offer this information on a platter - he risked his own life and safety, readily, but never Jack's.

"Leander," Raoul said and nodded. "I rmember the name - they had heroic names, the British ships. Perhaps if I had persuaded my parents ..." He looked across at Maturin and smiled wryly. "We would not have been eating this meal now, of course. Were you on board when your ship was taken? I hope that you were treated well."