'I shall walk with you initially and ensure you don't come to grief. Where would you like to go first?'
'The tavern.'
Zorro remained with his shoulder pressed against Perry's thigh. 'In which direction must we go, Juan?'
'Across the square, then it's the third building on the right.'
He was pretty sure there was a well in the middle of the square which Juan made no mention of. He was either going to go head first into it or the hound would lead him around safely. A good test to see if this bizarre scheme worked.
At first his steps were tentative, then he lengthened his stride as he became more confident. The animal changed direction and he followed his lead. Juan slapped him on the back with rather too much enthusiasm making him stumble.
Zorro spun, snarling ferociously, and for a horrible moment he thought the dog was going to attack. 'No, boy, I don't need protecting from him.' Instantly the hackles went down and Zorro reached around and licked his hand. 'I take it we negotiated the well.'
'I truly think this is going to work. That beast understands you can't see – don't know how that can be – but he's yours now and no mistake.'
The small beerhouse, only the front room of a cottage really, served wine from their own vines which was perfectly drinkable. It was more a place for the men to congregate than somewhere to get drunk.
He recognised most of the voices, the place was already half full, and he greeted them by name. They were impressed with his new companion but when anyone tried to fuss the dog a deep growl rumbled in his throat. Perry wasn't sure if this possessiveness was going to be an asset or a hindrance in the future.
The small town, Esposito, had more than five hundred inhabitants. The houses where he was living were stone built and sturdy. He was familiar with the small square in which he resided but had not ventured anywhere else. Here they were self-sufficient and grew all their own food and raised livestock for milk, meat and leather. The younger men rode out to harry the French but were not totally committed to being partisans. They put family and food first.
He stayed for half an hour and then thought he would try and find the stables without assistance. Juan had abandoned him as he had business to attend to with Pablo and the other partisans. They were probably planning a final raid on the French before they were snowed in for the winter.
He stood outside and sniffed. The waft of horses definitely came from further ahead and he was certain he could hear the animals munching their hay.
'Come along, Zorro, I want to introduce you to my mount.' He had taught the horse to answer to a whistle, which had taken him some time, but he was certain the horse would come even if he whistled when he was away from the village.
He walked briskly towards the field and his canine companion loped along beside him. Perry whistled loudly and heard the gelding respond. The tack for his horse was always put in the same place and he was pretty sure he could find it without Sofia or Juan to help him.
'Now, Zorro, meet Marron. You must be the best of friends in future.' He released his hold on the dog and encouraged him to walk ahead. There was the sound of snuffling and licking so he hoped this meant that the two of them had formed a bond already.
All he had to do was keep his hand on the rail and follow it round to the small building in which the saddles and bridles were kept. The ones he needed hung on the first pegs on the left of the door. He carefully put the saddle over his arm and added the bridle.
There was a bar that had to be lifted in order to enter the field and to his delight Marron was standing waiting for him. The horse obediently put down his head and Perry slipped on the bridle and fastened the buckles. The small blanket went on next and then the saddle which fitted snugly across the animal's withers.
'There, the girth is tight, the stirrups are down, we are ready to go.'
With the reins hooked over his arm he led the gelding through the exit and then carefully replaced the bar. He rattled it a few times to make sure it was secure then mounted the horse. This was the first time he had attempted to go out of the village on his own. For some inexplicable reason he believed Zorro and Marron were all he needed.
Why the hound had decided immediately that he belonged with him he had no idea, but he thanked God for it. The first time since he had been brought here injured and helpless he began to feel more like himself, more able to direct his own destiny.
He laughed out loud at his grandiose thoughts. What destiny? All he knew about himself was that he came from a good home, his clothes were well made and he spoke three languages. No – he also knew that there had been more than one dog at his house.
Zorro was so tall he could touch him with his boot which gave him the confidence to push the gelding into a collected canter. The animal was running alongside, keeping pace, and he just had to pray his trust in the two animals wasn't misplaced. Horses wouldn't canter off the edge of a cliff… bile flooded his mouth. His horse had done just that. Something had frightened it and it had bolted.
Frantically he reined back, his heart hammering, his hands wet with perspiration. He had no idea where he was, which direction he was facing, and had told no one he was going out on his own. What lunatic notion had convinced him he was capable of taking care of himself?
He slithered to the ground and his knees almost buckled under him. Zorro whined and pushed his nose into his hand as if encouraging him. The horse stood patiently unbothered by the strange behaviour of its rider.
'We shall have to wait here, my boy, until they send out a search party. They will think I'm touched in the attic to have gone out on my own.'
Slowly his heart returned to normal and he was able to think logically again. A soldier didn't panic in the face of danger. A jolt for something raced through him. He had been a soldier – what the hell had he been doing out of uniform? He must be a damn spy for the English.
He slowly turned a full circle. The sun was setting and he could feel it on his left cheek – so this was the west. He had ridden directly into it, it had been on his face, so he should find his way back safely if he kept it on the back of his head. The rest he must leave to his horse and his hound.
