Leaving Terpsy.

Peter tore his eyes away from the soldiers who had brought them to this place, and bent his head over his plate. It was not ... not something he really wanted to eat, resembling neither the food he ate in Yorkshire, nor the heavy regular food on the Terpsichore. But it was food. On the other hand he had eaten quite well before leaving the ship, and neither the doctor nor the French Captain were eating...

He turned over the piece of chicken, and cut a small portion from the leg.

Relieved to see at least the boy eating, Padstowe himself took up another piece of chicken and chewed thoughtfully.

Soon Barnthorp had returned with another young man - his lieutenant, Hainsworth - and introduced him to the company, who assured them that it was a pleasure to meet them all, that he hoped their journey here had gone well, and then excused himself again to see to the horses.

"All of it, Mister Yates," Stephen said warningly, and then looked up as the major returned.

The next three quarters of an hour passed in a steady flow of quiet talk and the coming and going of a couple of soldiers, mostly between Padstowe and Barnthorp, but with the odd interjection by Raoul and Dr. Maturin. It was then that a corporal came in a reported, saluting, that the gentlemen's horses were saddled and made ready.

"How much do we owe?" Stephen asked as they stood up.

Again Barnthorp waved his hand dismissively as all four of them rose from the table.

"It has been paid for," he said, leading the way out to the stables around the back of the the inn. "Compliments of His Britannic Majesty's Army."

Which Padstowe knew to be a lie. The meal would have been funded from Barnthorp's own purse, and the captain further appreciated how much his friend was going out of his way for them.

"Really?" Stephen said in surprise, looking back at the inn. "My word."

"It is a generous service we are employed in," Padstowe murmured quietly, though loud enough for Barnthorp and the others to hear. The major caught his eye, cocked his head to one side and adopted a nonchalant expression.

"Not always," he said, consideringly. "But it is insisted on that we pay the natives for anything we need off them - which is only right and proper. I am sure you appreciate this, doctor."

"Of course, Major. But is a subsidy given from the army, or must one pay from one's own pocket?"

"Oh, from the army," Barnthorp said cheerfully, which Padstowe knew again to be him evading the truth. "The C-in-C tallies up the expenses and pays it off with government coin. All very efficient."

It was a sign of Stephen's mental state that he believed Banthorp's words. "That is very efficient; I am relieved," he said, addressing the air.

The chicken did not sit altogether comfortably on Peter's stomach, and the thought of the ride made him more nervous. Riding into the dark, on a French prisoner's pillion, seemed a strange way to start his life as a civilian. But he was determined not to travel in the cart - he wanted to stay as close to Dr Maturin as possible, at least until arrangements could be made for him to return to England.

Stephen caught sight of Yate's expression. "Do not worry, Mister Yates; you will not find a better horseman this side of Madrid than Captain des Sablières." Stephen had been on horses since he was almost half of Yates' age, and his godfather had made sure that he could ride fast and well; it was perhaps the only physical grace he possessed.

Raoul's mouth twitched at the doctor's compliment. "You will be quite safe - I have often ridden with my sister behind me. And I doubt if we will need to ride fast."

The boy nodded, looking slightly less nervous. "And I doubt if we will meet any French soldiers, but if we do - " Raoul glanced at Dr Maturin, and then at Captain Padstowe. "I will do my best to ensure that you are all safe."

"Thank you, Capitaine," Stephen said gravely, his expression and tone warmer than his words.

"You have my word," Raoul reminded him. He waited to see what sort of horses the Major would have brought. And had he brought one for the French prisoner, whose relative freedom seemed to have surprised him.

"I know."

The horses that were led out into the stableyard, however, were in fact not Portuguese nags as Padstowe had feared. None of them compared of course to Philip, Barnthorp's coal-black charger which the major immediately mounted, and nor were they cavalry mounts; but a decent enough standard, and well cared for. Padstowe decided to let the Capitaine and doctor chose their mounys first - he felt the former, as a cavalry officer and charged with carrying a passenger, would be the best judge on that matter. Casting a glance over the three available, Padstowe was certain he could deal equally well with what was left over.

"After you, Capitaine, Mister Yates," he said politely.

Serviceable horses, Raoul thought, and quelled the urge to go round them, examining at their feet, feeling their legs and counting their teeth - they were, after all, gift horses. The largest, a bay with a odd light patch on her neck, was his choice - she would have the two of them to carry, even though the boy was a light weight. The midshipman walked up to her, as he stroked her nose, and smiled, with slight embarrassment. "She's a bit bigger than the old horse I rode, and probably faster. But if you think she's the best..."

"Only the best for the Hussards," Raoul murmured, as her lips tasted his hand. "I only wish we had an apple or two..."

"I think we are a bit short of any sort of treat for the moment," Padstowe said, looking about the still-quiet town. There was more movement now; some of Barnthorp's men had now appeared - some carrying things, some refilling their canteens from the fountain in the stable yard - and also more of the townsfolk were abroad now, curiosity getting the better of caution for the timebeing. "By the looks of it we shall be short until Oporto."

He rearranged his sword, and taking hold of the reins of a bay mare attempted to push himself up into the saddle with his legs as he had done before - but even healthier than he was, weeks of lying in bed and staying aboard ship had taken its toll and he slipped. Frustration showed clear on his face, and before anyone could offer help he tried again a second, then a third time before he managed it.

Stephen looked up in concern. "Jonathan-"

"I am well, thank you," Padstowe said curtly. Perhaps more curtly than he had intended. Then, realising that he was letting his irritation with himself get the better of his temper again, he softened his tone. "Will you mount up now? The sergeant there will help you should you need assistance, I am sure."

"I am fine," said Stephen, stiffly pulling himself into the saddle. He had insisted on doing the same when the wound was new, he remembered.

Raoul pulled himself into the saddle. She was bigger than Noix de Mai, but he had ridden heavier. Once settled he reached down an arm for Peter to grasp. "Put your foot on mine - that's right!" and hauled him up, swinging him into a position behind him. "It will not be comfortable," he warned. "If you had rather travel in the cart." He felt the boy shake his head, and take hold, rather tentatively. That would tighten when they started to move, he knew.

Barnthorp made certain that everyone was seated, then he spoke to his lieutenant who had materialised by his right boot.

"The men are under your orders now, Hainsworth. We'll rendez-vous back with the Quartermaster General's staff, until then you are to carry out under our standing orders."

"Yes, sir," Hainsworth replied. "Good luck, sir."

"And you, Mr. Hainsworth," Barnthorp replied. He raised his head to speak to his charges. "Gentlemen, shall we be underway?"

And he kicked back his heels and Philip broke into a trot, heading east along the road out of the village.