If only Joshua could be so apt! In these last, empty days, he had read Joshua closer than ever, almost as if the book might reveal his means of escape. A great soldier was Joshua, a cunning soldier, a soldier who overcame as much on his own side as on that of the enemy. But he knew no Rahab in Badajoz to let him down from the walls, no spies to find such a person within the city.
Dr Sanchez came at noon. He did so full of apology for his absence, for his failure to keep his promise of an early return. ‘It has been a difficult time, Major Hervey, difficult for me to explain. I beg you would forgive me and trust that it was not through choice that I did not come earlier.’
It did not matter to Hervey what had prevented the physician’s visiting, for whatever he had imagined were the possibilities in their recent intimacy, he had begun to conclude that Sanchez was not a man for turning: no honourable man could hazard his family by such a thing, and the physician was nothing if not an honourable man. ‘It has been an idle time, I confess, sir.’
Sanchez glanced at the open bible on the table. His face softened as he drew up a chair and sat down. ‘Joshua, Major Hervey?’
‘Joshua, yes. A great soldier.’
Sanchez unbuttoned his coat, despite the chill which the new-laid fire had not been able to dispel. ‘Do you believe, Major Hervey, that Joshua’s trumpets alone brought down the walls of Jericho?’
Hervey was intrigued. He thought to answer obliquely. ‘With God, all things are possible?’
‘Fie! Major Hervey! I had thought your study of Scripture would yield some more profound insight.’
Hervey smiled again. Was Sanchez merely making conversation? It was a curious attempt at diversion. ‘If you wish, senor, I will tell you what I understand may have happened at Jericho.’
‘Indeed I would hear it. It seems apt, here in Badajoz, don’t you think?’
Hervey was even more intrigued. Did Sanchez mean the aptness was historical or of the moment? ‘Apt? Possibly. Unlike the French, however – or, I imagine, your countrymen now – the Canaanites were terrified at the prospect of meeting the Israelites. They were resigned to their fate even. Does not Rahab the harlot say, “Our hearts did melt, neither did there remain any more courage in any man”?’
‘Go on, Major Hervey.’
Hervey hesitated. The subject was closing to home. ‘The first object in laying a siege is to persuade the besieged that resistance is futile. The walls of Jericho would have meant little if the defenders had not had the courage to fight.’
Sanchez nodded, but with the appearance of sadness. ‘Would that the hearts of the defenders of Badajoz had melted!’
Hervey presumed he meant the night they had stormed the city. But he supposed it just possible that Sanchez referred in a roundabout way to the Miguelites. He would lead a little more. ‘Yes, would that they had. But Jericho was sacked, as you recall, and all but Rahab’s family put to the sword. It was an offering to God, was it not – a first fruit of the conquest of Canaan?’
‘Badajoz was an offering too – an offering to the basest instincts of war. Was not Badajoz the first fruit of the conquest of Spain?’
Hervey’s brow furrowed. ‘Hardly
‘Forgive me. The campaign that rid Spain of Bonaparte –
Hervey shook his head. ‘I recoil at the image of Jericho put to the sword, doctor, as I do at that of Badajoz. And yet the slaughter of the innocent here that night is somehow all of a piece with the slaughter in the breaches. You can have no idea how hard our men had to fight to overcome the walls. They did not tumble down, as at Jericho.’
Sanchez nodded again, gravely. ‘I know, perhaps, better than you imagine, my friend.’
Hervey stayed silent; he saw no cause for pressing him.
And then the physician brightened. ‘But you, I think – I
‘Certainly not.’
‘Quite the contrary, indeed.’
Hervey looked at him intently.
‘See, my friend: I did not visit this morning, but it was not from neglect. I have the means of your escape. It will be quite easy, but we shall need help from Elvas.’
Hervey fought against his exhilaration. He needed to know how Sanchez had the means, and why. The declaration was so much more surprising for his having concluded that the physician was not his man. ‘Why do you do this?’
Sanchez held up a hand. ‘There may be opportunity to explain later. For the moment I would beg you to trust me, and attend carefully to what I say.’
Hervey inclined his head; what was there to lose?
‘Very well. Now understand this,’ began Sanchez, unusually imperative. ‘The castle is impregnable – in the minds, at least, of the authorities. The guards are few and confident of surety. Men may come and go quite freely as long as they have the password, which changes but weekly. The next change will be in two days’ time, when I shall learn of it. But, of course, I may not simply walk out of the castle with you. In any case, how then might you get to Elvas?’
Hervey was certain he would have no trouble getting to Elvas. ‘A third party must enter and overcome the guards on the way out?’
‘That is a possibility, although not without its difficulties. I had in mind your taking my place and leaving with a visiting party.’
Hervey looked doubtful. ‘I rather think it the stuff of books.’
Sanchez shook his head. ‘I see no reason why it should not obtain here, Major Hervey. I have observed the guards. They are, as I say, confident –
‘Forgive me, doctor. I did not wish to sound unthankful. As long as we have the means to fight our way past the guards if things go wrong . . . But how may we leave you here? Your fate would be an unhappy one!’
Sanchez held up his hands. ‘That is a detail of which we may speak in due course. The first thing we must do is communicate the password to Elvas. I am unable to do so, for reasons you may suppose. But you have free communications by letter, as we see. You have, I presume, a code?’
Hervey shook his head. ‘Matters did not progress to that.’
Sanchez looked disappointed. ‘Ah, I had imagined—’
‘Except . . .’ began Hervey, thoughtful. ‘There
‘Ask for
Hervey took up a pen. There was paper still on the table from his half-hearted attempts to maintain his journal. He began writing, quickly, an everyday account of his time these past few days, nothing to raise a suspicion. Then he inserted the request for the code-book, trusting that the veiling did not obscure his meaning, other than to the censor:
Hervey read him the letter, in French.
‘Admirable, admirable. It will arouse no suspicion whatsoever. And your general will understand?’
‘He will understand, I trust. We spoke of Folque enough.’
‘Who is he?’
‘A general of engineers. He planned the army’s signalling system, and its code. Wellington used it throughout