Chapter 3: Guardian Angel

When we finally stop we are thrown off the horses and roughly pushed into a building which smells like a barn. This could be the village Joaquín mentioned, or it could be somewhere else entirely. Our captors untie us and remove the sacks. We are thoroughly searched and our weapons are taken from us. Then of the men produces a length of chain and my right ankle and Julieta’s left ankle are shackled to each other. The other end of the chain is then fastened to a stout post. We have enough freedom to move a short distance but not far enough to go outside of our new prison.

A couple of blankets are thrown in our general direction and the men leave the room without speaking to us. Wherever we are it must be high in the mountains as it is noticeably colder. Julieta and I take the blankets and find somewhere to settle. Neither of us can sleep and we huddle with the blankets around us to keep warm. As usual our hands start roaming over each other’s body, but more for comfort than sexual arousal.

“What do you think they’ll do with us?” asks Julieta later. “I mean after they’ve finished fucking us.”

“Nothing good, I’ll bet,” I say as I try to work the lock on the shackles. Unfortunately the shackles are well made and the lock won’t budge.

“I hope Diego and Mateo are alright,” says Julieta.

“So do I. It was all so sudden and I didn’t see what happened to them. What’s more, they are the only ones who know that we’ve been taken. Otherwise we are on our own.”

“But why kidnap us? What do these men hope to gain? No-one is going to pay a ransom for us.”

I don’t want to dwell on what a band of desperate men might do with two young women once they’ve slaked their lust, so I try to change the subject.

“We’ll find out soon enough. As for a ransom, I thought you came from a wealthy family. Even if your parents are dead, you must have other relations who could raise a ransom?”

“There’s my real father who might remember me, but I doubt he would blow the dust off his coffers to pay a ransom for me. My adopted father was what the English call the black sheep of the family. Unlike his brothers, my father took care of those who worked for him. He was a good man and didn’t deserve to die like he did ... nor my mother ... nor my brother Emilio.”

Julieta sinks into a silence and I can tell she is remembering her family. But unlike when I first met her, she doesn’t dwell on the memory of their violent death for more than a minute.

“Did you know I spent two years at one of the finest schools for young ladies in Madrid?” asks Julieta suddenly. “I know how to host a dinner party and the correct seating arrangements when royalty and nobility come to dine. I can speak six languages fluently and hold simply conversations in three more. But how is that going to help us now? What use is all that training in a situation like this? I feel so ... worthless.”

“Well I never went to school, and my only education comes from the brutal lessons of life. But a lot of what I’ve learned comes in useful at strange times and in strange ways. I believe the true measure of the worth of a person is in how much they are prepared to give of themselves. And from what I’ve seen of you, Julieta Raquel Maria Luisa Cortés de la Viña y Fernandez, you give all of yourself.”

“Give, or have it taken? I don’t feel there have been too many times I’ve been able to decide my own fate. Do you want me to tell you how I came to be a spy for the English? It’s not a pretty story.”

As sleep still eludes the pair of us, I nod and Julieta begins her story.

“For countless generations my adopted family has produced fine wines from their large vineyard in the province of La Mancha, not far from Madrid. When the French army entered Spain at the beginning of last year, none of us worried too much about it. After all, France and Spain were allies and the French were coming to overthrow a corrupt and despised government. But the people of Spain became divided when the French forced King Fernando to abdicate, and replace him on the Spanish throne with Napoleon’s brother Joseph.

“Most of the wealthy supported the French, but the common people remained loyal to King Fernando. My father was one of those who spoke out against the French seizure of the Spanish throne. His brothers disowned him and started to plot against my father.

“Then came the peoples’ uprising in May of last year. The French crushed it mercilessly; hundreds of Spanish citizens died in Madrid. Next thing we know, a company of French soldiers have surrounded our town. They accuse the whole town of being rebels, and the French take six men at random and hang them in the town square. One of them was the man who had won my heart. My father had already begun negotiating a marriage contract for me.

“Not satisfied with the murder of six innocent men, the French soldiers march towards our hacienda. Fearing the worst, my father orders the servants to flee, while he goes out to confront the French colonel in charge. We are a Spanish noble family, so despite everything we all thought we were safe. But we soon saw how very wrong we were in that assumption.

“Some sixth sense warned me to hide as soon as I saw the French seize my father. I tried to persuade Emilio and my mother to hide, but they wouldn’t listen. Like a coward, I ran upstairs, leaving them looking on in horror at how my poor father was being treated.

“I hid in the attic, too afraid to come down. It was dark by the time I left my hiding place. The French had gone, but they had left the bodies of my father, mother and brother lying in the courtyard. I can’t remember the next twelve hours. When I came back to my senses I was walking alone along the road to Madrid. I had nothing with me but the clothes I was wearing. I must have changed before leaving the hacienda, as I was dressed in the brightly coloured gypsy’s dress my mother gave me as a present on my last birthday.

“I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do when I got there. But the choice was taken from me when I blundered into a regiment of French troops. Their uniforms were different from the men who attacked our hacienda, but their commanding officer, Colonel Henri Galois, was a cruel and vindictive man. I was forced to go with them, and I spent several weeks as a camp follower. With nobody to protect me I was obliged to spread my legs in order to earn enough to eat. And each night Galois would make use of my body ... to fuck me if I was lucky, or to beat me if he was in a foul mood. Sometimes he did both.

“The French regiment was heading through the mountains between Spain and Portugal. They were part of a large French army moving west towards Lisbon. Fortunately it was summer or I would have frozen to death before we reached our destination.

“I was very afraid, and I had already given up all hope of escape. Our route took us along a narrow mountain road. One false step and a person could tumble down the steep slopes to a certain death. What did I have to live for? My family was all dead. Everything I ever had, or dreamed about, are now all gone. Everything I believed in has been destroyed. Instead I’m reduced to being a whore. I look down the slope, plucking up courage to take a step or two to my left and let fate take its course. But just when I summon up enough willpower, a voice disturbs my concentration. It’s an old soldier sitting on a rock to my right.

“‘What is it you seek, my dear?’ he asks.

“‘Seek? ... A way out, I suppose. A new goal in life. Something to believe in,’ I reply.

“‘A noble cause. But you will not find what you seek down that slope. And yet you will need to make a great sacrifice of a different kind to attain your goal. Are you up to the task?’ asks the old soldier.

“The old soldier’s words probably saved my life as it makes me recall something my father once said. Everyone has an angel. A guardian who watches over us. We can’t know what form they’ll take. One day, an old man; next day, a young girl. But don’t let appearances fool you. They are not here to fight our battles; but to whisper from our heart, reminding that it’s us ... every one of us, who holds the power over what we believe.

“By the time we reach the other side of the mountains I have a goal in mind. I shall avenge my parents and brother and help rid my country of the French invaders. And Colonel Henri Galois will be my means of achieving it.

“During my time with his regiment I had learnt that Galois is to be attached to General Junot’s staff as a military intelligence officer. Never have I seen anyone so unsuited to such a role, especially as Galois doesn’t speak any Portuguese. Which is how I get my opportunity.

“Galois had convinced himself that I am now truly subjugated to his control, and that I’ve accepted my lot as his mistress. Throughout my captivity I have continued to play the simple gypsy girl Galois mistakes me to be, and he attributes my skill at languages to a gypsy’s travelling life. Consequently Galois sees a solution to his local language problem.

“I’m soon attending all sorts of meetings to act as his interpreter. General Junot would probably be horrified if he knew, but Galois and I make sure that he doesn’t find out. Our reasons for doing so are quite different though. In his case it is to keep his job. In my case, it is to discover secrets which may help me and my country to be free of the French invaders.

“A short while later, rumours started circulating that the English were landing an army in Portugal to help the Spanish and Portuguese push the French army out of their countries. Galois dismissed the rumours with contempt and he went about his business as usual. I, however, did not. Before long I spotted a man whose behaviour suggested that he was an English spy.