Leaving Terpsy.

"I will check on him again; I apologise for the delay, gentlemen," said Stephen, turning away. As he walked back to the olive grove, he directed a single imploring look at the heavens.

With the Capitaine's help, Peter had moved, and was sitting on the wall at the foot of a terrace, staring down at the ground between his feet. He looked up as the doctor returned, and tried to smile. "I am sorry," he said again. "I feel ... better now."

"Do not be sorry at all." Stephen handed the boy the canteen.

Peter poured some water in the cup, drank, and then spat, before filling the cup again and sipping the water. When he looked up, his face looked less blotched, but still pale. "Must we ride on?" he asked. "If the army is coming, can't we wait ..." Again he sipped and then said: "I am sorry. Everyone must be a great hurry to be up with the Army, and I ..."

"You do not think you could ride?" Stephen asked gently.

"If I have to, of course I can," Peter said.

"I will take him, of course," the French Captain said, slowly. "But ... we might slow people down."

"I think we will." Stephen looked at the boy. "Come, we will speak to Captain Padstowe and the Major."

Padstowe and Barnthorp we waiting still outside the olive grove when Stephen returned to them. Barnthorp had dismounted and was holding Philip's head, but Padstowe had stayed in the saddle, fearful that if he were to dismount that he would be unable to do so quickly.

"I fear that we will slow you down; we shall wait here for the rest of your men, Major," Stephen said after he had explained Yates' condition to them. "You still plan to go to Major Hogan?"

Barnthorp cast a sideways glance to Padstowe, who looked himself uncertain at this proposal.

"My men will be several hours in coming - half a day, perhaps."

"You cannot wait that long out here without protection," Padstowe said. "We ourselves are not in a tearing hurry; we will wait for you."

"We cannot in good conscience delay you so much," said Stephen. "I have a pistol, and spare shot, as does Yates, and Raoul has his sword."

"Doctor," Padstowe said. "I know you mean well, but we cannot accept. Major Barnthorp is out here with the express orders of accompanying us back to the Army, and as the Capitaine's parole officer it would be unwise for he and I to be separated at this juncture."

"Very well," Stephen said, nodding. "Aie, this was just the sort of thing we did not need. Yates might be able to ride a little way further; I do not like to simply stop here."

"There are some outbuildings just up ahead," Barnthorp suggested helpfully. "A couple of minutes away. They are not much - run down old things - but might they serve?"

"They would serve perfectly well," Stephen said,

Raoul came out of the olive grove, with Peter leaning on his arm. "I think the young gentleman will manage," the Frenchman said, seeing the suspicion in Barnthorp's eyes, that flickered to the sword at his side. "But we cannot ride fast ..." Peter made an effort to stand on his own, and added in confirmation: "I will be all right. It was ... I did not completely like the flavour but I was hungry."

Stephen felt a sharp twist of guilt in his stomach. Thy wars brought nothing about... "It might be more sensible to continue riding until we reach the army. It cannot be far now."

"Three hours more," Barnthorp stated. "But going slow you added on another, maybe two. If we need to stop it may be more sensible to do so now."

"Mister Yates?"

Peter felt close to tears. He should not have come - the men had important business, and he was slowing them down, when they had to reach the army, and fight. And why? Because he had allowed thoughts to grow in his mind until he could not stay on the ship. Dr Maturin had been kind to him, and now he was just being a burden. To everyone, even the Frenchman.

"I will ... whatever you decide, Sir," he said, his tone subdued.

Stephen managed a comforting smile for Yates, before looking up. "Raoul, would you be able to ride with Mister Yates sitting in front of you? That way if he becomes weak you could catch him if he slipped; I will ride alongside."

"He can sit on the saddle - she is a good-tempered beast, and I can ride on a long enough rein..." Raoul gave the boy a confident smile. "We will do very well, Dr Maturin." He bit off the urge to tell Padstowe to hurry along, and leave them to find the army at their own pace .... and suppressed a smile when he realised that he was doing what a good French soldier should do - hampering the enemy, and slowing them down.

He was cursed. There could be no other explanation.

Stephen's expression was an excellent impression of reassuring confidence as Yates sat on the saddle in front of Raoul, and pressed his heels to the horse's side.

Yates was close to tears, it seemed, poor boy. Padstowe felt sorry for him; away from his ship, no guaranteed future, with strangers and now been terribly ill. And now they were hurrying along, all for his sake, it seemed? He did want to get back to be of use, but Raoul was still his charge; at the moment Raoul was his duty. He could not abandon him on trust to make his own way... or could he? It was done before - an officer trusted to make his own way to his parole destination, and Padstowe could have that destination as the British Army in Oporto with a later rendez-vous. He had no excuse though, to be any sooner back to the army than any of the others.

Once Yates was as comfortable as he was going to be, the party began to move forward again. The first hour was hot, and dusty, and tedious, and by the end of the second one Stephen was nodding.