‘Christ, Jacob. I’m a bloody fool. We should have posted a guard on her. A deserted town and a company of redcoats. I’m a bloody fool. It’s my fault.’
‘If you think that, Sir, then you are a bloody fool. It’s no one’s fault. She’ll be all right. Matt’s with her now.’
Steel watched as the Corporal bent to talk to Louisa, whispering to her as you would to a frightened or wounded animal. He saw her initial terror turn gradually to calm and then stood to one side as Taylor brought her out of the room and carried her gently up the stairs. Taylor turned back to him:
‘It’s all right, Sir. You can leave her with me now. Get some sleep.’
Turning back to the room, Steel gazed at the Bavarian with utter revulsion. In other circumstances he would have killed the man out of hand and taken the consequences. But he knew that as it was, in front of the men and particularly in the presence of Jennings, who would use any opportunity now to bring about Steel’s ruination, he had to behave by the rules. And the rules stated that Kretzmer would be taken with them under guard back to the camp where he would be given a fair trial. Only then, if there was any justice in this world, would they be permitted to hang him. It would be a long wait.
Morning brought another bright day, the promise of unremitting heat and with it the sickening memory of the events of the previous evening. Steel climbed the stairs to Louisa’s room and knocked at the door. Slowly it opened and Taylor’s face appeared.
‘How is she?’
‘No better than you may imagine, Sir. He was that rough with her.’
‘Should I speak to her?’
‘I don’t see why not. I don’t have any German, Sir, but in the night she did say your name a few times. In the fever.’
‘Thank you, Taylor.’
Steel walked across to the bed where Louisa lay dressed in a cotton nightshirt beneath fresh white sheets, her blonde hair framing her head like a halo. Taylor had done a good job of cleaning her up, although she still bore a heavy bruise where she had been hit hard on face and without looking too closely, Steel could see there were others on her neck. She opened her eyes, looked at first alarmed at the presence of another man in the room, but then realized who it was.
‘Oh. You. Lieutenant, I … Do you have him. Do you have …’
She stopped herself, quickly remembering what she must not say.
‘I’m sorry, Miss. I shouldn’t have come. It’s just that I. Forgive me, but I was genuinely concerned. I feel … responsible for this.’
She smiled. ‘You? How could you?’
‘I should have placed guards. Should have had men I trust within the inn. Who knows what might have happened had Major Jennings not come in when he did.’
At the mention of Jennings’ name Louisa’s eyes widened and her face, which up till now had been restored to colour, turned pale.
‘Are you feeling all right. Shall I call Corporal Taylor to return?’
‘No, No. I’ll be fine. He is a good man, Lieutenant. So gentle.’
‘I’m sorry. I did not mean to suggest that what has happened was of no consequence. It … matters to me very much indeed. It is just that if he hadn’t come in …’
‘Yes.’
She half-closed her eyes.
‘I know. But why? Why did he?’
Steel could see that she was confused. That would be Taylor’s potions, no doubt.
‘Herr Kretzmer will hang, Louisa. Have no doubt of that. We have him prisoner.’
She opened her eyes but did not smile. Saying nothing, she merely stared at the wall. Tears began to run down her face and Steel moved forward. He went to put an arm around her shoulders and then stopped himself.
‘I … I’m sorry. I was only going to …’
She smiled. ‘No. Please. I would like you to.’
Gently, Steel placed his arm in its filthy red sleeve upon her shoulder and thankfully she buried her head deep in his chest and began to sob. Steel held her closer and thought with revulsion of the last man to do so. An obscene excuse for a man.
She looked up at him.
‘Oh, Jack. I don’t know who to trust. He said he would kill my father and he will.’
‘He won’t. He can’t. How can he? We have him. Kretzmer can do you no more harm, Louisa. Trust me.’
‘He told me that too.’
‘Kretzmer? Yes, but I mean it.’
He looked at her and thought that he could see in her eyes, along with what he might now perceive as love, a nameless fear.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
Louisa turned away and said nothing. How could she tell him about Jennings? As long as the man remained alive her father’s life would be in danger. And there was something else. She had felt something just now. Something she had not expected.
From the street outside they could hear the sound of the redcoats gathering up their kit and anything still to be had and which might be carried in the way of food and drink. The day was passing. There was more, much more to say, but now was not the moment.
‘We must leave here soon. You must go to your father. Can he manage it? Can you?’
‘I think so. I will look after him. Go and get your soldiers ready. I promise we’ll be ready within the hour.’
Puzzled and not a little shaken, Steel left the room, passing Taylor as he went. ‘Stay with her. Look after her and help her with the old man. Make sure they take what they need. And, Taylor, thank you.’
He wondered if the man had guessed at his growing attachment to the girl. Whether he would tell the others. Steel thought he knew him well enough to be sure that he would not. He walked down the stairs and out into the sunshine of the square. Much as it irked him, he had to acknowledge Jennings’ role in Louisa’s rescue. Slaughter had been first on the scene and there could be no doubting his word. He had discovered Kretzmer, his trousers around his ankles, standing above Louisa’s half-naked form. Jennings was holding him firm and there had evidently been a struggle. The Bavarian had a bloody nose and a cut lip and Jennings was bleeding from his hand, wounded, it seemed, by a knife that lay upon the floor. There was, of course, no question of Kretzmer’s guilt. The facts spoke for themselves.
They had bound Kretzmer’s hands with rope and placed him, for want of anything more secure, in his own carriage, tied to the door and with a gag knotted across his mouth to drown the tirade of protest with which he had assailed them since he had recovered from his encounter with the floor – and two subsequent punches from Jennings.
Steel watched the Major now, as he crossed the town square to inspect his men, an unlikely hero, followed by Stringer, the lapdog. It was seven o’clock in the morning. It was a great deal later than they would normally have started their march to avoid the heat of the sun. But the events of the previous night had upset his intentions, and not just because of what had happened to Louisa. Contrary to his plan, most of the men had contrived to find rather more ale than he had intended and although only a few had actually been drunk, the rest did not find that the morning, with its various demands and duties, entirely suited their dulled senses.
Nevertheless, Steel had decided that they would leave within the next two hours. They might, he guessed, cover six miles in the day. He was about to rejoin the Grenadiers in the field when he thought the better of it. Time perhaps for one more thing. Something which he had not envisioned himself doing on this or any morning. Steel did not consider himself a religious man. Certainly he had grown up in a God-fearing Scottish Episcopalian household, where Sundays