A cold resignation settled across Ana’s features now, her forehead smooth of concerned lines, her tears dried.“Vaya.If you must,” she whispered, her body slumped, defeated.
“And you will not leave?”
“I will wait.For a time.”
Peter stepped forward and embraced Ana, pressing a promise of a kiss to her forehead.But all she had endured made her cold and limp in his arms.A moment later, she wandered, her steps unsteady, back to her room.Only once he could see that she had tucked herself securely into bed did Peter shut their adjoining door.Still, soft sobs drifted to him through the cracks beneath the door.
What a great mess he had made of this evening.But his desire to fight for their future was for the better, was it not?He had no question in his mind about his decision to keep Ana from joining him.
Some small portion of translating for the armies had brought Ana fulfillment, he knew.She had seemed alive and vivacious.But perhaps that came more from being seen and appreciated by her father, the parent who had always been too quick to leave her home.When she had witnessed the horrible realities of war stripped bare, Peter had seen that familiar haunted hollowness settle into her body, dulling her eyes and causing her body to curve around itself protectively.Even worse, after she had survived being attacked, she had retreated completely into her own mind, something Peter had never expected from the Ana who had once fed off the liveliness and entertainment of others.Even coming to England had not been an easy journey.She had been surrounded constantly by soldiers in redcoats that reminded her of her attackers.
One night as they were traveling across the sea, Peter awoke to find Ana’s bed in their shared cabin empty.He hurried up to the deck, assuming that she was stricken with seasickness yet again.Instead, he found her, silent and motionless, at the rail, staring back across the ocean to an unseen Spain.Peter had held her hand in a rare moment of welcomed contact as she had whispered of longing for family, for safety.And yet Spain could no longer provide her with any of those comforts, leaving her impossibly torn between two unfamiliar worlds.And so Peter had promised himself that he would provide for Ana what he had never been able to provide for Mother, for Matthew, or for himself: a home.
She would never be provided that security again if she joined him.But sometime in the past months, passing as blindingly fast as they had, Peter had realized thatheneeded home too.And not only home with Mother but home with Ana.
Words came to mind that Mother had written to him months ago when he had first shared his plight with her.As always, she had somehow known precisely what he would need to learn in the coming months.She had written, “There will come a point when you must decide that your future is no longer determined by your past—a past which you did not want nor choose—but instead by your decisions, which you will make of your own volition.”She had likely been referring more to his past clashes with Father and how they influenced his family relationships.But how fitting those words were now.Finally, Peter could determine his own future.
Chapter 38
July 18, 1814, London, England
Peter felt in his uniform pocket for the well-worn miniature Bible, his fingers brushing the softened leather as he prayed for comfort.Since his visit with Mr.Smith many months ago, he had taken to carrying the book about with him as a source of strength.And how desperately he needed that strength now.
He stepped into the vast, noisy hallway, the tension pulling at his shoulders and the ringing in his ears betraying his discomfort.A wide variety of trimmings, epaulets, and badges designated the variety of officer stations possessed by the soldiers surrounding him.Once, the sight of scarlet coatees, creamy white pantaloons, and tall Hessians brought Peter some sense of comfort, or at least a feeling of belonging that home had never given him.But now the familiar view only made his stomach roil.He could not rid his vision of those same coatees preying on women, crashing through doors, and slumping near-dead in piles across Basque Country.
After the great doors shut behind him and the crowd ceased its milling about, an officer, a major by the looks of it, rose to a pulpit at the front of the room.Harsh, midday light streamed down from the window behind him.But there was no Bible in his hand, no holy robes on his back.This was not to be a sermon of hope and faith and healing, not in the least.And the great irony of the moment was not lost on Peter.
“Welcome to London!We are gladdened by the sight of all of you, particularly after the vigorous battles you all have endured in months past.”
A murmur of agreement rippled over the hall.
“First and foremost, we celebrate the deposition of Napoleon and the signed armistice and treaties.Your roles in these events are to be commended to the highest regard.”
Cheers rang throughout the hall.Men clapped shoulders and shook hands, and for a moment, there was a sense of unity, of encouragement, that Peter had not felt since Spain.
“Now, there is still a bit of tidying up to do before we move forward with our allies.There has been a great deal of publicity surrounding our little siege in San Sebastián, even to the point of making waves of gossip in the ballrooms of the Ton.We are aware that some of the ungrateful Spanish and Basque have published a number of so-calledlibelsto stir up all sorts of rumors surrounding the incident.They claim we burned their city to the ground in an effort to unseat Wellington’s hold on their armies.”
“Perhaps we should let them see how terribly they fare on their own,” a soldier near Peter called out, his gold epaulets badged with a star designating him a major.“What do you say to that, eh, Harrison?”Peter clenched his fists.Was this war simply about defeating Napoleon, no matter the costs to any of the countries they rampaged through?
“We are also displeased by the disorderly manner in which a few of you have conducted yourselves in the aftermath of the siege,” the officer—called Harrison, Peter supposed—continued.Finally there would be some larger measure of discipline!Peter rolled back his shoulders and scanned the group, watching for the guilt that would surely shadow their faces.
“There has been a great deal of talk that more civilians were attacked and killed than what we know to have actually occurred.Spain has tried to cast the blame on us, blame that should be rightfullyplaced on France’s shoulders.Undoubtedly, these rumors have grown here in England as well, likely due to your sharing of your own perspectives, as skewed and influenced as they were by exhaustion.Our army physicians can attest that when you are caught in the middle of a battle, particularly one as drawn-out and entirely straining as the Siege of San Sebastián, your mind can start to mislead you.In your overactive imaginations, a few unfortunate casualties of errant bystanders can grow to mythic and horrific proportions, when they were, in fact, quite inevitable.”
Peter’s gaze returned to the soldiers around him.There was some regret in their eyes.But theirs was an unfeeling passiveness, a resignation that dominated the room in a chilling way.Were they truly adopting these ridiculous excuses?
“And what if thosefewunfortunate casualties were greater in number than you imply?”Peter called, no longer able to stay silent.Anger heated his whole body, causing his uniform to feel restrictive.“Was Major Bailon’s death inevitable then?”Was Ana’s assault?
The officer singled Peter out with a searing gaze and a critical tilt of his chin.“Captain Ashmore, if you had nearly as much wartime experience as Wellington, you would accept that the occurrence of a number of casualties is simply the nature of war.Allow me to bring to your remembrance his thoughts on the matter, having said that these unfortunate occurrences are a consequence of attending the necessity of storming a town.”
“An evil consequence,” Peter muttered.He had scoured newspapers for any sort of information, and by his best estimation, it had to have been nearly half of the city’s remaining population that was killed in the pillaging and plundering.It was no small casualty.
Harrison sniffed, looking down his nose in Peter’s direction.“You would be wise to remember that San Sebastián was one battle among many, and that in enlisting, you accepted the possibility of witnessing death around you.This is our lot, and we are fortunate to have come out victorious, despite the cruelty of the French and thevain rebellions of the Spanish.”
He then turned to the larger crowd and continued.“And to show our greatest appreciation to the regiments who helped us to break through to the French, we are preparing Battle Honors and a Military General Service Medal.Those of the 52nd will also receive a patch to commemorate a truly commendable example of conduct and exemplary service.We are certain this will help you all to recall the notable feats that were accomplished there, despite any small misfortunes.”
So they were, in a way, bribing their men into silence with accolades and honors.Peter would never be able to pin such a badge on his uniform.It would be like proudly displaying a murderer’s brand and expecting praise and renown for it.He would not commemorate the foul misdeeds that occurred there, that had led to Ana’s attack and Major Bailon’s death.Even now, the bloodred color of his uniform felt sickening.
“Many of you have had a period of rest following the variety of sieges and battles you have been involved in as fresh troops were sent in across the ocean.Thanks to Wellington’s fine work in invading Southern France earlier this year, we have all been able to enjoy a period of peace.But now you are all being recalled to your duties.”
