Betrayal

terms.’

‘I understand, sir.’

‘Now, we must buckle down to the matter in hand. Supplies. We’re settled in and need to find our own forage instead of relying on the ships. This is always a necessary business and I want it in hand as soon as possible. Who knows what the future might bring, hey?’

‘Yes, sir. To another matter, we have our fifteenth desertion reported by Colonel Pack and-’

‘More?’

‘It does seem to be the same class of man, sir. Irish – they find the same religion, and opportunities here not to be countenanced in Ireland, and we suspect they’re being lured away by the Spanish women.’

‘Deserters will meet the same penalty as they would on home station. Harder – this is in the face of the enemy.’

‘Enemy, sir?’ the officer asked innocently.

Chapter 9

With rising emotion Serrano paused in the darkness of the doorway, exhausted and famished. ‘Mi flor – mi bella flor!’ he called out.

Rafaela opened the door and squealed with delight. Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him with a passion that melted his terror and confusion. ‘Alma mia, mi corazon,’ she sobbed, caressing his matted hair.

Once inside, she held him at arm’s length; then her hands dropped and she slapped his face. ‘Hijo de perra – where did you go that you left me with no word of what you were going to do? I worried that the partidarios leales had betrayed you and I lied to everyone that-’

Serrano shook his head and pulled her close, breathing her fragrance. ‘Rafaela – mi angel.’

Then he stood back and declared, ‘I was betrayed.’

‘Carino, who . . . ?’

‘Not by the loyalists or the patriots, but by the British.’

‘The British?’ she said incredulously. ‘What have you to do with them?’

‘In my exile in Cape Town I heard from their officers that they were to fall on the Spanish here, and I hid in one of their boats . . .’

It all came tumbling out, and hot tears of anger pricked as he told of the cunning and all-too-believable secretary who had wormed his way into his confidences by pretending to learn Spanish, before setting him up to lead the patriots away from Montevideo, probably to distract the Spanish eastwards while they made their move on Buenos Aires.

‘They told me it was a mission of glory, to bring the forces of Great Britain and los patriotas to a triumphal destiny of liberation. Instead I was used as a common tonto to deceive and blind.’

In a rush of feeling he described his devastation at Don Baltasar’s side when they had looked out over an empty sea. Only by quick thinking – saying that the British would be returning to look for his signal – did he escape being branded a spy leading them all to destruction.

‘That night I fled for my life, feeling the hounds of hell at my back. Now I have both sides after my skin,’ he said bitterly.

‘You’re a fool, Vicente, and I love you. Can you not see? By running you have confirmed their suspicions. And the Spanish have proof of your sympathies with the independentistas. You’re in deep trouble, my little cabbage.’

She bit her lip. ‘Does anyone know you’re here? Did they see you enter this house?’

‘Do you think I’m stupid? How do you think I made it this far? No. It’s dark. I kept close to the wall and watched carefully until it was quiet.’

‘Good. We must think what to do.’

Her brow furrowed – then suddenly she tensed. ‘Did you hear anything? It sounded like-’

The door flew open with a crash, revealing a tall man with a cynical smile, others behind him.

Rafaela moved protectively in front of Serrano. ‘Who are you? Why do you enter my home like this?’

The man gave a languid bow. ‘Dona Rafaela Callejo? A thousand apologies for the inconvenience but our business is with your friend.’ He closed the door.

In the low candlelight the man’s face was lined and cruel, the black eyes piercing. He circled them slowly, his hand loosely on his poniard. Stopping, he addressed Serrano in a voice barely above a whisper, ‘It is entirely my decision whether you leave this room alive or no. Do you understand?’

‘I demand to know who you are,’ Serrano said shakily.

‘For you that is of no concern.’ The poniard leaped into his hand and he inspected its gleaming edge. ‘I come from Don Baltasar to clear up a few points that still vex him.’

‘I didn’t betray him. It was British treachery – they said they wanted to join with us, overthrow the villainous Spanish and – and-’

‘He never doubted that for one moment, my little chicken.’

‘Then . . .’

‘He knows you to be young and impulsive and foolish in the ways of the world. What he wants to know is how ardent in the cause you still are.’

‘Liberty? Freedom? On my soul, I put them first in my life. He must believe me.’

‘And what of your friends, the British?’

‘I hate them!’

‘I see. You will be interested to know that the council has met and decided that, in the furtherance of independence, we must throw our entire force at the main enemy.’

‘Yes – Spain!’

The tip of the poniard flicked out and came to rest at Serrano’s throat.

‘Not at all,’ the man said silkily. ‘They are not the main enemy. It is the one who tries to lure us into joining them to make conquest of the viceroyalty, only to turn on us as it seeks to add this country to its swollen empire.’

‘The British!’

‘Just so. There will be no independence for us, only a change of masters.’

‘Why do we not make use of them to throw out the Spanish and then-’

‘Fool!’ His lips curled in contempt. ‘By trickery, and the unforgivable craven flight of Viceroy Sobramonte they were enabled to take a great city. It is done! They hold our capital and will never give it to us. Therefore we must take it.’

‘Against their mighty force?’

‘In this emergency it has been decreed that nothing is too sacred to be sacrificed to this end. Los patriotas will join as brothers with the royalists, the blandengues will be summoned and the gauchos armed – all in the great cause to drive los imperialistas into the sea whence they came.’

Serrano caught his breath. The blandengues were a centuries-old militia with roots deep in the frontier, and gauchos as cavalry would be glorious – but would it be enough? This was either catastrophic folly or inspired.

‘Who will be leader?’ he asked carefully. If Baltasar-

‘Don Santiago de Liniers.’ At Serrano’s incomprehension he added, ‘At Montevideo he commands our only regular troops and is experienced in war. It is he whom we allow to issue the orders.’

Serrano drew himself erect. With rising exultation, he knew now which was the true cause. ‘I wish to serve.’