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4. In Pursuit of Deserters
Sub-Lieutenant Julian Mainbridge sat on the bottom rung of a homemade ladder that led to the loft above him and pondered his next move. In Julian’s view, there were three issues to sort out. One was that the woman was lying. There was no doubt of that. Yet — and here was the second issue — who could blame her? Like the rest of the peasant farmers in this hilly countryside, she’d had enough of war and killing so how could he fault her for looking out for herself? The third issue was entirely separate but one of far longer standing: his commanding officer was an idiot. Of the many reasons that Julian had to be resentful of his current state, that one was first and foremost.
What made things worse is that he felt so helpless, so utterly unable to do anything. Here he was in the duchy of Swabia of all places, galloping around the German countryside looking for deserters from the British army. Where he needed to be, if his career was going to go anywhere, was hundreds of miles to the south in Spain or Portugal, doing his bit to give Napoleon what for. But the odds of getting back there now, he knew, ran from slim to none. All because of his commanding officer. All because of Jack Aston.
The proper title was Lord Jack Aston for he was the fourth son of the Duke of Somerset, although every man in the regiment from aide-de-camp on down thought of him as “Lord Jackass.” Papa, the Duke, had bought son Jack his commission, not hard to bring off when there’s wealth enough to outfit an entire regiment. Julian himself was hardly innocent of the practice for his father too had bought him a commission, but Julian’s father was a wine merchant in Liverpool, and the best his influence and money could muster for his son was a bottom rank. Still, it was a commission and Julian knew that in this war with Napoleon and the French, the opportunity to rise by merit was his to grasp.
He’d almost had the opportunity too, Julian did, less than a year ago in what was now becoming known as the Peninsular War. The regiment had landed in Portugal too late to be part of Sir Arthur Wellesley’s initial victories, but it was immediately attached to the 17th Light Dragoons, right at the front of the advance into Spain. Its very first task, however, had resulted in total disgrace, entirely the fault of Lord Jackass.
Like many other officers in the British High Command, His Lordship had no military experience or training, and to make up for it he emphasized spit and polish. Regimental officers were expected to be in parade dress at all times even while on field duty, for this was the surest way, Aston believed, to properly distinguish them from the rabble they commanded and to impress the civilian simpletons in the countryside. Failure to attend a formal event — and there were many — was invariably punished. And of course, to miss dinner in the officers’ mess was considered a major offense. Julian had learned to live with these annoyances, albeit with some sacrifice. Of the two horses his father had provided him, only one was parade ground quality in appearance, so he had to be careful about which one he rode and when. And unlike Aston, whose personal tailor was permanently assigned to the command tent, Julian was secretly making do with just one uniform.
What tipped the cart for Julian was Aston’s sheer incompetence in the field, which had shone like a beacon in that very first assignment in Spain. The 17th had been attached to a force led by General Sir John Moore, a personal friend of King George, and was specifically directed to guard the left flank. But after crossing the Spanish border, Lord Jack had allowed Moore and the main force to get way ahead while he held the regiment in camp so they could properly celebrate his birthday with a formal parade. With their flank open, the British force had been overwhelmed and Moore was killed. Even the commander-in-chief, Sir Arthur Wellesley, didn’t have the power to fire the son of a duke but he could — and did — punish him. Lord Jack and his entire regiment, Julian Mainbridge reluctantly included, were sent north into Germany to keep an eye on Napoleon’s ally, Maximilian I of Bavaria. There would be no glory here.
From his seat on the ladder, Julian had a view out the open barn door to the rolling green hills. Here and there a few cattle grazed placidly, not as many as there would have been in the fields in a time of peace, for the peasants hid most of their stock in the forest. If there were any deserters to be found, that’s where they would be too: hiding in the forest. Still, Julian had been assigned the unpleasant task of hunting down deserters long enough to know that they usually came out of the forest at night to steal food from farms like this one. Very often they didn’t even have to steal, for here in Swabia the British were the enemy and therefore a British deserter ... well, “whoever harms my enemy is my friend.”
Julian stood up slowly and took a step forward to check on his horse. It was still there, tethered to the fence where the woman had brought it water in a wooden bucket, and an armful of hay. The gesture had touched Julian, but then this was not the first time that kind of thing had happened. On the other hand, the horse was not an enemy and the woman, after all, was a farmer; to feed a working animal was instinctive. He flexed his shoulders a few times before peering at the sky, and then walked stiffly over to the horse. A bit of sun was forcing through the cloud cover now, a welcome sign after three days of steady rain.
The horse was sniffing about for a few remaining wisps of hay, so Julian waited a minute before mounting. He could tell the woman was watching him through a crack in the door of her house and he waved to her in a friendly way. He still hadn’t worked out whether he’d give her a bit of money. His Lordship, from his own very deep pockets — or more likely his father’s — had worked out a system for rewarding people who provided information and, despite the language barrier, the woman had made it clear to Julian that over the past few days, deserters had been coming in from the forest at dusk to spend the night in the loft.
In the end, Julian chose to leave a few coins for her. He put them on the fence where the horse had stood. She had lied to him but what difference did that make? In her own way, she too had to put up with Lord Jackass just as Julian did.
How does Julian Mainbridge know that the woman lied to him?
5. Count to Five, Press the Button and Get Out!
“Lumpy” Pechnik was concentrating so hard he didn’t realize he’d chosen the women’s lingerie department to hide in. Not that realizing it would have made any difference. There was no way he was going to screw this up — it was the easiest 500 bucks he’d ever scored. In fact, except for the time he’d scooped the cash from a gas station where the night attendant had a do-or-die case of the trots, this would be the only time Lumpy had ever held $500 in his hands at once. And it was going to be so easy! All he had to do was press a button!
There were a couple of things that had bothered him, but only for a minute. Lumpy was not given to long periods of reflection. One was that the two suits who approached him this morning — big guys they were too — how come they knew he could get into this big Sears store after hours pretty well whenever he wanted? And how come they knew his real name: Lamont? Nobody on the streets knew that. Why, nobody had called him Lamont since Sister Mary Magdalene had kicked him out of St. Anselm’s. Well, no matter. All Lumpy cared about was that he was going to get big bucks for an easy touch.
What he had to do was keep an eye on the up escalator here on the first floor. When the security guard appeared, he was to count to five slowly — the suits were really emphatic about that part. They made him practice three or four times: “One steamboat, two steamboats...” like that. Then what he had to do was press the red button on this gizmo they’d given him and after that get out of the store. A couple streets over, on Sackville, he was to drop the gizmo down the sewer and then pick up his money at the 7-11: the rest of his money. Lumpy fingered the 50 bucks in his left shirt pocket. The suits were only going to give him 20 as a down payment and they didn’t even want to give him that. Said he’d