again.
Louisa lay back against the sandbags, her hands over her ears, lost in hell.
A machine-gun emplacement at the top of the track near the side of the stables covered the approaches up from the cabins. Two young rebels manning it aimed their gun at the individual marching up through the wisps of smoke towards them. They recognised Sebastian as he walked at a brisk pace, seemingly unaware of the bullets flying around.
He was not wearing his usual civilian clothes. Instead, he had on the perfectly tailored officer’s uniform that he had taken from his wardrobe earlier. His epaulettes were finished off with gold braid, the brass buttons down the front of his jacket highly polished. The outfit was completed by a leather Sam Browne belt with its supporting strap passing over his shoulder to his waist. An ornate cavalry sword dangled at his side.
Sebastian passed the men in the emplacement with not so much as a nod and turned the corner of the building. He went to the first stall and opened the door to see his white stallion inside.
Stratton walked across the open ground towards the stables, his eyes focused on the rebel machine-gun emplacement tucked against the side of the building. He waved as he walked, holding his gun in the air, praying that those manning the position could see his rebel uniform through the smoke. He could see movement behind the sandbags and halted, ready to dive to the ground. To his relief a man stood up briefly and beckoned him to keep coming.
Stratton broke into a run towards the position and slid to the ground behind it. ‘Thanks,’ he said.
The two men in the emplacement were wide-eyed and anxious. ‘What’s happening?’ the gunner asked.
The noise of battle was not as heavy as it had been, suggesting that the Neravistas were consolidating their positions. The mortar explosions continued at random.
‘You have a radio?’ Stratton asked.
The men shook their heads.
‘The perimeter’s been breached,’ Stratton explained.
‘We thought so,’ the loader said, looking worried.
‘What shall we do?’ the gunner asked.
Stratton didn’t know what to suggest that might reassure them. With some luck the Neravistas would call for a ceasefire and they would have to take it from there. But then again, perhaps not. But he had his own problems. ‘Keep an eye on your flanks as well as to the front,’ he told them. ‘I’m heading down to the cabins. I’ll tell your commanders you’re okay and holding this position.’
They nodded but the fear remained in their eyes.
Stratton got ready to move on. ‘Good luck,’ he said.
‘You too,’ the gunner said, as Stratton headed to the corner of the building.
He stopped to look along the fronts of the stalls. He was about to move off when the door of the far stall opened and out strode the white stallion, saddled and bridled. Sebastian was riding it.
Stratton was stunned by the sight. Sebastian, his expression proud and commanding, sat stoically in the saddle as the powerful if slightly nervous animal moved in a tight circle.
A mortar exploded harmlessly at the other side of the corral and Sebastian calmed his horse with a pat and a few words. He realised he was being watched and looked over to see Stratton.
The two men stared at each other, the old warrior and the new. Sebastian drew his sword from its scabbard and held it with the tip pointed skyward, the hilt at his waist, his back ramrod straight.
Stratton was not entirely sure what prompted him, since he had not made the gesture for a long time, but he came to attention and gave the old man a solemn salute.
Sebastian appreciated the gesture. He nodded to Stratton, turned the horse and trotted away towards the cabins.
Stratton made his way around to the other side of the stables and headed into the trees.
Sebastian broke into a canter as he reached the cabins and then into a full gallop through the courtyard. He tore past the rebels lying behind cover and firing, past the machine-gun emplacement without seeing Louisa there and rode on at full speed.
Louisa saw him race past. ‘Father!’ she cried, scrambling to her feet to run after him. David leapt from his position and grabbed her. He stared at their leader, stunned.
Sebastian straightened his sword arm, held the tip out in front of him and charged into battle. Bullets flew around him but he ignored them as if lost in another world, another time, perhaps even another battle.
A government officer at the lookout post who was watching the battle’s progress through binoculars could not believe his eyes. ‘Look at this!’ he cried. ‘Sebastian rides! Sebastian rides!’
Ventura, Steel and the other officers scrambled to look.
Sebastian rode like the devil himself, seemingly invulnerable to everything that was fired at him. The powerful horse moved as though it were at one with its master.
A mortar shell exploded close to them but neither man nor beast flinched as dirt and shrapnel flew around them.
‘I knew he was mad,’ Ventura said dryly.
‘By Jupiter!’ Steel exclaimed, a look of genuine admiration in his eyes. ‘Now
Several officers grabbed their rifles and began to take pot shots at Sebastian. But it would have taken a supernaturally lucky shot with an AK47 at that distance.
The old fighter was, however, struck by rounds from somewhere. One hit him in the chest, another in his thigh, but he held his posture and charged on. He directed his steed towards the troops who had been dropped off by the helicopter and were manning a mortar. When the officer in charge first saw Sebastian he did not know what to make of him. But as the old man and the white stallion bore down on his position he realised the threat they posed.
The mortar team scrambled for their weapons heaped in a pile around the ammunition boxes. The officer drew his pistol and began to fire a rapid series of shots. But Sebastian was to have his final moment.
As he closed the gap between the Neravistas and himself the thunder of his horse’s hooves grew louder and the men who’d been going for their weapons changed their minds and tried to scatter. The officer had emptied his pistol clip and stood his ground while struggling to reload.
Sebastian leapt over the stack of mortar ammunition, at the same time thrusting down with his sword. A good portion of its blade disappeared into the neck of one of the soldiers and pierced down into his heart. As the horse landed Sebastian withdrew his blood-soaked blade and with the practised ease of a polo player swung it in a cartwheel motion and took away the side of the officer’s face.
He rode on past the position and made a wide turn as the soldiers scrambled to pick up their weapons. As Sebastian lined up for another charge they opened fire, all their guns on full automatic. The bullets tore into both horse and rider. The horse died as it charged, collapsing instantly. Sebastian flew over its neck to crumple in the dirt in front of it. He did not move and his eyes stayed wide open.
Applause and laughter resounded from the lookout post.
Steel seemed oblivious to the celebration, lost for the moment in appreciation of the old man’s final moment.
‘Why, Steel,’Ventura said, interrupting the American’s daydream. ‘I do believe you’re jealous of him.’
‘I am. Right up until the part where he died,’ Steel said.
The officers roared with laughter again.
‘I think we should follow his lead, though, don’t you?’ Steel suggested. ‘The battle is all but won. Let’s take a ride and get some real sport.’
‘Go down there?’ Ventura asked, unsure. ‘It’s still a little busy.’
‘Why else would we go there?’ Steel replied, downing his drink and walking over to his horse. ‘Come on, Ventura. Show me some of that upper-class disdain for danger that you think you have. You’re not gonna let
