Leaving Terpsy.

Padstowe was a little surprised - and touched - by Stephen's tone of voice.

"No, not immediately. I would not have it so, believe me... but once we are back I will no longer be my own master. If I am called away I will have to go."

"Of course. I understand." He was not a fool. His godfather was a soldier, and when called away, even by the Castilian King, he had ridden.

Padstowe fell silent again, seemingly thinking something over. Eventually he cleared his throat and then suggested tentatively;

"If, when the battle is over, I am in a position to do so might I call on you? I know you shall be horribly busy with your new post and responsibilities, yet... on my part I would hate to lose your company."

"Please do," Stephen said softly. "I pray that you will be." He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the driver's seat. Horribly busy...

Padstowe's lips were touched my a small smile - warm, now that perhaps he truly did believe that Stephen did still want and would return his friendship - yet still he worried at the doctor looking so frail, sounding so utterly exhausted. McGrigor would not be so heartless of unprofessional as to put him to work immediately - and the captain hoped that Stephen would take the advice of a fellow physician and abstain should it be recommended. But would his own conscience let him rest whilst he saw men he would think he could help? Either way, the doctor would end up being injured further; physicially or within his mind.

Stephen nodded and was jerked awake as the wagon stopped its steady roll; he looked around, blinking, in a daze - he had not realised he was falling asleep. "We are arrived?"

"That we are."

It was Barnthorp who replied, jumping down from his seat and offering a hand to those that needed it to get down from the back of the wagon. "Careful there, captain - and you, young sir! I have a couple of rooms over there, if you'll follow me..."

Raoul shouldered his saddlebags and looked around at the village apprehensively; Stephen tried to smile reassuringly at him, and they followed Barnthorp down the road.

Following Barththorp they crossed the small and quiet village square - surprisingly devoid of people - to what seemed to have been in better times the inn. A few nervous and curious faces peered from doorways and windows, but no one came to trouble the travellers as they entered the dilapidated building. Inside it was darker, and not particularly hospitable-looking. Barthorp indicated a table in one corner.

"Take a seat - I'll call for some refreshment off the House. They'll probably be in the kitchen."

The inn was as uninviting as the village itself.

Raoul crossed to the table, turning over what they had been told. The French had retreated, according to the man who had driven the cart: crossed over the Douro and destroyed the bridge, confiscating all boats... Except, apparently the one belonging to the woman and her husband. Captain Padstowe believed that the village was friendly towards the British, but until very, very recently it had been part of the territory occupied by his own Army. And the intelligence officers were always on the watch for those who could not be trusted - that the British seaman had been left free and in possession of a boat almost certainly meant that his loyalties had been tested...

His own loyalties felt stretched, as he wondered if the Terpsichore realised what they had taken aboard so eagerly. But they were here now, and at least the inn provided somewhere where the doctor - who looked terribly tired and ill - could rest.

Stephen sat down at the table, looking around nervously. This village would have been under the control of the French, and should the tide turn... or if they did not support the British...

He looked sympathetically at Raoul, for whom this must be extremely difficult, whatever the situation was. "Are you well, Capitaine?"

Raoul met the doctor's look with a strange calmness. Whatever was going to happen, he could do nothing to prevent it. He had said, half-joking, that they might find themselves in French territory, before the British had secured it, and that he would have then to protect his captors. This was not quite French territory, but not did he think it was secure.

"I am glad to be off the ship," he said quietly, "but I am, as I said, unhappy about our present position. Did not the Captain's colleague say that all the boats on this side of the Douro had been removed by the French?"

"I think so," said Stephen, frowning in concentration. "Are you thinking about the American's boat?"

Raoul nodded. "I ... We never came this far west, on our patrols. But we would have known if there had been an Englishman living in one of the villages that we visited. And ..." He fell silent, none of his thoughts easy to explain or to voice.

"Or an American." Stephen leant his head back against the wall, suddenly feeling sick. Another spy, one that the Terpsichore had been all too eager to bring on board.

Raoul looked bleakly at him. "Or an American. Anyone who was not trusted would ... " He bit his lip and continued: ".... would not have been left in a position where they could so easily contact the British fleet."

Stephen folded his arms on the table and rested his head on his forearms. The French had held Portugal for more than long enough to investigate any Englishman or American, especially so close to their center of operations. And now the Terpsischore had a spy aboard, or a saboteur.

"I am sorry," Raoul murmured. "I could not say anything - who would have listened to me, or trusted me? But even if the young man in charge of the boat did not appreciate the position, the officers will, I am sure."

"They will have to," Stephen mumbled. "For there is no way to bring a message to them now. And that woman that we tried to help - she probably-"

"The risk is minimal, I think," Padstowe said, unconsciously fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. "The Navy now has the man and will not be at liberty to communicate with the shore, and the woman will probably not be much of a threat. It is not possible for the French to seize every boat on the river, and some folk are skilled in hiding boats - and their cargoes."

Raoul shrugged. The woman had tried to call on the French to help ... And it was not her, or her man, whom he feared, but the rest of the village - her family, the others who had lived unmolested after Soult's return. But the French intelligence could be mistaken - they had been so in the case of the farmer, João Pintero. And perhaps here too they had been fooled.

"But if she returns here, and rouses..." Stephen said weakly. "We tried, but she would not... If they are support the French, and have survived here for so long, then we, but if not, then Raoul..."

"I do not think we shall be staying long enough for it to matter." Padstowe said, calmly. He also did not think that Barnthorp would be such a fool as to have them stop with a French prisoner at a village that was even remotely sympathetic to the French - and judging by the state of the town and the cautious and hateful looks that had been shot at Raoul as they passed Padstowe sensed that they might well be pro Anglais.

At that moment Barnthorp returned with a couple of bottles of dusty wine. A young serving boy followed him carrying four mugs and what looked like a plate of cold chicken.

"They don't have much to offer I'm afraid; but these will suffice I should say."

The boy wordlessly put the mugs on the table and was just setting the chicken down when he caught sight of Raoul. He froze instantly and his eyes seemed to widen in fear.

Stephen was not hungry; he pushed his mug towards Yates. "Not a lot, Mister Yates," he warned, then looked up at the inn's boy, cocking his head to the side.

Noticing the disquieting pale stare from the doctor the boy coloured and ran back into the kitchen. Padstowe exchanged a glance with Barnthorp, who shook his head and finally filled his own mug.

"I should not take it personally, monsieur," he said to Raoul. "Their village was until very recently occupied by your compatriates. Their priest was taken into custody, amongst other things, so naturally they are still a somewhat wary of strangers."