The Ways of Deception - Part 1
Title: The Ways of Deception - Part 1
Characters: Stephen, Jack
Rating: G-ish , male/male love relationship
Spoilers: Post-Captain
Disclaimer: Characters borrowed from Patrick O'Brian & his heirs on a non-profit basis
The Ways of Deception - Part 1
Stephen struggled up the winding stairs with the final bucket of steaming water and heaved it up and poured its contents into the great marble bath and over Jack who smiled, the attendant sigh expressing his utter contentment and ease. Still asleep, he stretched and sank a little further into the warm water, wriggling his toes. Stephen smiled down at his friend and lightly touched his cheek, the touch becoming a caress. Jack leaned into the hand and murmured, “Diana…”
Stephen froze at that name and withdrew his hand immediately. He sat back on his heels and looked earnestly at his friend, the hurt he felt obvious on his face. ‘Had Jack slept with her? Had she allowed him all?’ Stephen thought, now anguished. ‘I have not spoken openly with Jack of my feelings for Diana, but surely … surely he must see …’ He shook his head wearily and stood up and started to remove his clothes, ‘No, no of course he doesn’t know. I can hardly be justified in resenting Jack’s pursuit of Diana. She has made it quite clear that I am not acceptable as a candidate for her hand. I am merely her confidante, her sounding board for her schemes to entrap him. I am a fool to think that she would consider me in any other light and yet … sometimes, just sometimes, a look, a touch or a kiss rekindles my hopes anew. As always I have told no one of my feelings for her, let no one see … not even dear Jack. Am I not a deceiver as well?’
He climbed into the bath and settled himself into the warm water, sighing as his tired muscles relaxed in the warm water. The rising tide of water caused by his entry into the bath and the touch of his leg against Jack’s woke him. Jack blinked a few times and then looked across at Stephen, his eyes wide, staring at him. The shafts of golden sunlight streaming through the breaks in the roof played around Stephen, the dust particles coruscating and shimmering in the rays, intermingled with the steam that swirled around him. His auburn hair seemingly ablaze, gold-tipped with sunlight, his tanned face in sharp contrast with the pale skin of his shoulders and upper arms a translucent white with its sprinkle of faint freckles also seemed to glow. This along with the intensity of expression in his pale blue eyes as he looked at Jack, all combined to create such a vision, a vision that stirred an unsettling desire within Jack. He looked away quickly, trying to ignore the familiar feelings of arousal. ‘Stop this, stop this. It’s just old Stephen. I must be sick … though in this light … like an angel.’
He looked back at Stephen who was a little confused now by Jack’s reaction. Stephen leant forward, concerned now and touched his arm, “Are you all right my dear?”
Jack nodded distractedly, the spell broken, “Yes … oh, yes … just surprised when I woke up. It’s good to relax after that haul up the mountains. I’m not getting back into that damned bear suit. Not even if my life depended on it. Any way I won’t have to. Spain is not our enemy and I can travel here as free as a bird.”
“Spain is not our enemy yet. Jack it would not be wise to linger long here. As much as I would like to show you my country, my Catalunya, it may not be safe for much longer and … I think it wise that we travel as quickly and as inconspicuously as possible … though how I am to hide a blonde, blue-eyed Englishman of your stature.” Stephen shook his head.
“Well that’s no problem. Just head for the closest port and see if we can get some merchantman to take us down to Gibraltar and then back to England. I agree; we can’t lose a minute. If I’m to get a ship, or any command at all I have to get back to the Admiralty, stake my claim.” Jack agreed strenuously, leaning forward and generating a mini-tidal wave in the bath water that sloshed up into Stephen’s face. Caught by surprise Stephen gulped down a mouthful of water and was now coughing and spluttering. Jack leant forward and patted his back with one hand his other wiped Stephen’s face gently, “I’m sorry my dear.”
For a minute Stephen was encircled by Jack’s arms and he leant against his chest enjoying the feeling of warmth and security he felt in his embrace, listened to the steady beating of his heart, thinking, ‘So good. I could stay here forever, held by him. No doubts, no lies between us … safe, warm …’ Stephen shook his head in negation of his thoughts, ‘No … we must get back. I have much to report to Sir Joseph …’ He looked up at Jack and smiled, patting his arm, “It’s all right Jack. We should wash and dress and I shall go down to the village to get some provisions for tonight and for travelling tomorrow. We’ll have an early dinner and then straight to bed. We will have to be up early if we are to get down to the coast as soon as possible.”
Stephen hurried down to the village at the base of the castle walls. He was buying bread and turned and bumped into Maria, the woman who cleaned and cooked for him when he stayed at Recasens. She cried out his name and enveloped him in an affectionate embrace, remonstrating, “Oh Sir, what are you doing here? When did you come? Why didn’t you come and get me straight away? Your bedroom will need dusting and I must cook your dinner. What have you bought? You didn’t pay too much for it, did you?” She scowled at the woman behind the counter who snorted and looked away. “Come, let me get your food, a gentleman shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Wait, wait Maria … It is very good to see you, but I will only be staying for the night. I did not want to put you to any bother. My gentleman friend and I must be on the road to Figueras in the morning. We must get back to England.” Stephen explained.
“Oh,” she looked crestfallen for the moment. “Surely you can stay a few days, sir?”
Stephen shook his head, “No, I’m afraid not. My friend is an Englishman and we have just escaped France and as it is we are too close to the border and I fear the French may invade. I must get him back to England as soon as possible.”
She nodded as she pondered the evil ways of the French saying, “Yes they are no better than thieves, always sending their cattle over the border to graze on our grass.” She looked up at him, “But then I still must come and make your dinner tonight sir, I can do that at least. Go back to your friend and I will be up in a little while with all the food you will need. Off you go now, sir.”
He nodded and turned and made his way back up to the castle, its bulk putting the village in complete shadow as the sun sank lower. Jack looked up as he entered the room, “Back so soon Stephen? That was quick.”
“No my dear, Maria my sometime housekeeper met me in the village. She will buy food for us and prepare our dinner. I could not refuse. She would be very put out, if I had.”
Jack smiled broadly, “Heavens Stephen, I wouldn’t have believed it, lord of your castle and the village below? Is there anything else I should know about you?” The tone and delivery of the query was light, but underneath Jack pondered on how well he did know his friend. These last few weeks had opened his eyes. Stephen was not the innocent, lubberly, other worldly being he had seemed to be. No, he had seen a different Stephen, a Stephen adept in deceit, a Stephen hardened and resourceful, tougher than Jack could ever have imagined. What was he up to in Toulon? Was he a spy as Christy-Pallière’s men had suspected? He seemed to know a lot of things he should not have known and there were all those packages and letters from foreign parts delivered to Melbury Lodge and the visits up to the Admiralty. Who did he see there? He didn’t think that the Navy’s Sick and Hurt Board would need to consult with Stephen so frequently, especially in peace time.
Stephen noting the hardening of Jack’s gaze and its now speculative nature, sought to divert his train of thought. “Well there is my other house in Lleida, left to me by my maternal grandfather and some land there too. I run merino sheep there, a greater number and of finer quality than the sheep up here in the mountains. These are just for meat and their wool is suitable for only carpets, too coarse by far for fine woollen garments. I’d hoped that you might have stayed there with me. It is far more comfortable than this tumbledown castle. Alas we cannot, our circumstances no longer permit it.”
“A wealthy landowner, with two houses … My God Stephen, if you had a mind to, you could have any woman you wanted. There would be many on the look out for a man of your means.” Jack replied and stopped short, the familiar reserve that now existed between them on all matters pertaining to women stopped him saying more. He looked away sharply and pointed at a tapestry hanging on the wall, a little dulled by age, but still obviously of fine quality, depicting a medieval hunting scene. “Stephen what a fine tapestry that must have been, are there any more like it?” He asked.
Stephen all too clearly seeing the diversion, grimaced but decided to play along in this mutual game of deceit, each seeking to avoid mention of the very things they sought to conceal from each other. It pained Stephen to see that the openness and trust that existed between them spoilt by these games, but he saw no alternative. He could not reveal to Jack his, by necessity covert activities and the thought of Jack talking to him openly of Diana as a conquest or as a prospective wife would be too much to bear. He desperately sought to keep this friendship alive, even if it was marred now by lies and a degree of mutual distrust of each others’ motives. These last few weeks of travail and danger had distracted both men from all considerations of anything other than that of escape and survival, but now that they had time to rest in relative safety both men had the opportunity to think on their lives these last few months, a prospect neither man was eager to pursue, for both feared what they would discover. Stephen looked at the tapestry rather than at Jack as he responded, “Just one of many that originally adorned the halls of my ancestral home. Sadly too many have succumbed to fire, neglect and moths. A pity as they had a practical purpose as well as artistic merit. This place can be damnably cold in the winter, the snow piled metres high against the walls when the wind blows from the north. There were fires lit in all these huge fireplaces but without the tapestries to cover the walls, the heat would have quickly dissipated.” He bent his head, murmuring, “So many valuable things I’ve lost or let go over the years …”
Jack looked sharply at him, hearing a tone of sadness, not consonant with loss of mere material possessions, for he knew that Stephen placed no value on them. He was tempted but too afraid to ask what else Stephen had felt he had lost and not sure he would relish the answer, if one was offered up. Maria bustled into the room with her shopping breaking the growing uneasy silence that stretched between them and Stephen turned to her with a sense of relief.
“Sir, I shall start on your dinner straight away. My little Rosa will dust and prepare your bedroom … Oh my …. The other bedroom, the one your cousin uses, the roof tiles were broken this winter and it’s in no fit state for the gentleman to sleep in. The bed clothes were ruined from the rain.”
“Don’t worry my dear. It is only for one night. My bed is large enough for two.” Stephen turned, “Jack … you don’t mind sharing my bed with me? The guestroom is not in a fit state for anyone at the moment. My bed is quite large, room enough for both of us.”
“No, it’s fine.” Jack stood and bowed to Maria attempting in his cracked Spanish, “Bueno Diaz. Mucho enchantee …”
Maria looked at him quizzically, not quite sure what he meant but judging from the smile and the bow, that he was being polite in whatever language he was speaking and nodded to him in return and left for her domain in the kitchen, calling loudly to the little girl who had entered the room, “Come Rosa, start the fire in the kitchen and then you can start dusting and preparing Señor Esteve’s bedroom.”
Jack settled back into his chair and picked up the book he had been reading as Stephen walked over to the book shelves and selected one for himself and sat down and quickly became absorbed in it, both of them glad of the diversion, both unwilling to breach the thin lines of defences that protected their friendship, too fearful of the damage that the answers to the questions that each longed to ask the other, would do to their friendship. Jack occasionally looked up from his book to glance at Stephen, but he was seemingly totally engrossed in the book he was reading and so he bent his head again to his book. The silence was only broken again when young Rosa came in to announce that their dinner was ready.
Over dinner Stephen outlined his plans for the following day, “I think we should be on the road as soon as possible. We can borrow some horses from the village and ride to Figueras to see how secure the situation is for us to leave on a boat from Cadaqués. We dare not approach the coast without some information. There are so many of the French in all the ports, on the look out for any who have escaped their net. We may get a boat but be boarded straight away and taken back to Toulon. I daren’t risk it until I can confirm it is safe for us to leave by sea.”
Jack nodded, “Yes, the French would have come straight out of Toulon on declaration of war. Much as Christy-Pallière may love us that won’t stop him detaining us. He wouldn’t have a choice anyway. What will we do if it’s not safe?”
“We shall have to go overland to Algeciras and then across to Gibraltar,” Stephen replied and looking up saw Jack’s disconsolate expression. “I’m sorry my dear, I know it will take longer and I know you wish to get back to London as soon as possible, but I for one do not wish to be taken.”
“Yes, yes you’re right Stephen, but how long will it take …” Jack was now thoroughly disheartened as he contemplated all possibility of a command slipping away from him. As it was, all the best commands would have already been snapped up by those at home and with any influence whatsoever and Jack was well aware of the extremely limited number of friends who could bring pressure to bear in his favour and that would make any difference to his now rather gloomy prospects.
Stephen seeing Jack’s now despondent expression, tried to cheer him. “Well if we can get to Lleida fairly quickly, I have horses there and it may take a month perhaps to get down to Gibraltar. We will have to avoid the coast. Cut across country, down via Teruel to Cuenca, Valdepeñas, Ubeda, Cordoba, Ronda and then to Algeciras. It is late summer, early autumn. The mountain roads are not the best but there will be no snow to bar the way. Hopefully there will be a ship in port when we reach Gibraltar and a swift passage to England and we may be in London in seven weeks.”
This did not particularly cheer Jack but if there was no other way and the risk of recapture at sea was too strong, he was now if not reconciled to his fate at least was realist enough to see that the longer, safer way was the only alternative and he felt so tired already. His head ached and he felt hot and despite the comfort of the bath his muscles were beginning to ache again. He thought a little and looked up at Stephen, “What if we cut across country west of here instead, across to San Sebastian or Santander. Try to get a ship to England that way.”
Stephen nodded, “Yes the distance is shorter but the probability of a ship sailing for England from either of those ports is much less likely. The English ships usually make landfall at Corunna, most would not choose to approach the French Coast so closely, now that we are at war again. The distance to Corunna is equal to that between here and Gibraltar. No my dear, I believe the best way is to seek a ship at Gibraltar.”
Jack nodded gloomily, accepting his friend’s logic, “Yes and the East Indiamen should be returning from India at that time and we may get a passage with one of them fairly easily.” With that thought he dismissed his worries for the moment and reached across to cut a slice of cheese and selected a pear from the bowl.
Soon after they had drunk their coffee, Jack was nodding off in his chair. Stephen got up and shook his shoulder gently, “Come my dear, off to bed with you.” He then guided him up the stairs to the bedroom. While Jack was preparing for bed Stephen slipped down to see Maria to check that everything was prepared for their early morning departure and to ask her to arrange for them to borrow horses from her husband. He thanked her and pressed some money into her hand, “Good night my dear. Hopefully it will not be too long before I can return for a longer visit. Thank you for your assistance.”
By the time Stephen had returned Jack was deeply asleep, flat on his back and snoring. Stephen nudged and prodded Jack until he turned to lie on his side and was for the moment quiet. Stephen stripped and donned his night shirt and was asleep almost straight away, snuggling up against Jack’s back unconsciously seeking the warmth of Jack’s body. Jack turned in his sleep and his arm encircled Stephen’s shoulders, drawing him closer and Stephen sighed and buried his face in Jack’s neck and drifted deeper. Jack was the first to wake, just before dawn. The fever had returned and Stephen’s body heat added to the discomfort. He threw off the blanket and Stephen feeling the change of temperature nestled closer to Jack who rather surprised and a little amused looked down at his friend in the dim light suffusing the room. It seemed so right after weeks of tension between them to have Stephen so relaxed and comfortable in his arms and he started to rub his friend’s back. This roused Stephen and he opened his eyes and looked up at Jack, blinking in surprise, still half asleep but he did not seek to move out of his arms and smiled up at him. “My dear, such a sleep I’ve enjoyed, so deep, so restorative.” He reached up and touched Jack’s face and frowned, “But you are feverish, my dear? Are you feeling well? Perhaps we should stay for a little longer so that you might recover from your exertions.”
Jack shook his head, “No, Stephen I was just rather warm with you against me and all these covers.”
Stephen nodded and sat up and stretched, “We must hurry Jack if we are to make Figueras in good time. There is not a moment to lose. The sun will be up soon and we must be on the road, just after.” He jumped from the bed, “Hurry along now Jack.”
At first, Jack felt less eager as he was enjoying the sense of relaxation and peace that he felt holding Stephen in his arms and the return of the feelings of comfort, warmth and closeness that had always been an integral part of their friendship. Jack snorted and suppressed an urge to laugh as he realised that their usual roles were reversed. Here he was holding back, uncertain and unsure while the usual deliberate and cautious Stephen was chivvying him along, urging him to action. It was novel, if somewhat amusing but Jack good naturedly complied and swung his legs to the floor. He was glad that the sense of restraint and tension between them that had re-emerged the day before was gone. He dismissed his doubts of Stephen and was just glad to be on the road back to England and the possibility of a command, no matter how remote his prospects.
They had a hurried cup of coffee and some bread and cheese and were off not long after dawn and were quite early in to Figueras. Stephen left Jack in a tavern and went in search of his contact in the town. The news was not good. His informant told Stephen that in all ports close to the French border there were paid informers for the French providing information on those ships and their passengers coming in and out of the port. There was also now a numerous and quite vociferous group of Catalans who believed that the French would help them gain independence from the Castellanos. They were disappointed with the English lack of support for Catalan independence before the signing of the Treaty of Amiens. They believed that England a monarchy would favour their fellow monarchs, the Bourbons over those seeking to establish a Catalan republic and would not help them in their bid for independence. They still perceived Napoleon as a supporter of republican freedoms even though in the previous August he had had himself proclaimed Consul for life, indicating his contempt for Republican values. This group had links along the length of the Catalan coast as far south as Valencia and numbered many acquaintances and friends from his youth. Stephen walked back to the tavern pondering what he should do. Further south they may have luck in gaining a ship but to do so he would be seen with Jack in places in Catalunya where he may need to travel in the future. He could not risk being too closely associated with the English and worried that anyone who knew him may recall his keeping company with an Englishman, an English sea captain. No, they must take the inland route. It was the safest by far, for Jack and for the future success of any intelligence activities he wanted to undertake. He regretted sacrificing Jack’s chances of gaining a command but knew it was more important in the fight against Buonaparte that his future intelligence activities in Spain were not jeopardised by a known connection with the English.
Jack looked up as Stephen entered the tavern and could see from Stephen’s face that the news was not good and his hopes sank. “Stephen, no good news I see.”
Stephen nodded. “Yes, my dear I find that it is as I feared. It is too dangerous to take ship from any port along the Catalan coast, so we must take the inland route. I think we should try for Girona tonight and hopefully Montserrat tomorrow and then to Lleida the next day.”
By nightfall they had reached Girona and Stephen found a rather down at heel inn outside the city walls for them to stay the night. He did not want to enter the city, though the inns there were more comfortable, as he wished to keep Jack away from curious eyes. For the same reason he was determined that they should be away before or at sunrise again and so they were on the road again in the early morning turning south west toward the massif of Montserrat, a distant blue smudge on the horizon. Jack was not feeling well, his vision on occasions was blurred and he ached and felt feverish but said nothing to Stephen, silently following his lead. He did not want their journey home interrupted. He knew that Stephen would demand that they stop and rest if he suspected Jack was not well and he also knew that Stephen was immoveable when he had made a medical decision. Stephen looked at him carefully when he turned and noticed that Jack was looking rather glassy-eyed, “How are you feeling Jack?”
Jack instantly sat up straight in the saddle and tried to appear alert, “Just a little tired Stephen, nothing to worry about.”
Stephen nodded and looked at him searchingly again, not totally convinced but he too was eager to go on. He wanted to get to Montserrat tonight to verify whether a disturbing statement made by his contact in Figueras was accurate. He was sure it was not, prayed it was not but he knew that the Lord Abbot would be able to confirm it, if anyone could. They stopped at Vic to eat and drink and by late afternoon were staring up at the steep cliffs and pinnacles of this sawtooth mountain as the horses picked their way along the trail that wound up to the monastery buildings, a collection of buildings in a hodge podge of styles from the Romanesque to the Baroque, clustered below the base of the final cliff before the summit.
At the door of the monastery where all pilgrims were greeted, Stephen murmured to the priest, “I have a message for my Lord Abbot … my name is Esteve Maturin y Domanova … he will see me.” The priest nodded that he understood and ushered them to their cells and hurried off to speak to his superior, familiar with strangers seeking the Lord Abbot. The message found its way to the Abbot and the response that the pilgrim should be brought immediately to the Abbot’s rooms.
Jack was exhausted and had slumped onto the bed and was asleep almost immediately, so when Stephen looked into his cell he was deep down and he slipped back out closing the cell door. Jack woke two hours later. The headache had not gone and he did not feel refreshed. The fever and thirst woke him and he stood up, swaying a little, his head swimming. He sat down again, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. After a little while his vision cleared and he stood again and walked out of his cell toward Stephen’s. The door was open, the room empty. He turned around and saw the same priest who had greeted them walking towards him. Jack called, “Pardon, senyor … le docteur …” he asked hoping the man would understand what he was asking.
“You are English?” The priest asked him in perfect English. Jack nodded, surprised. “Señor Maturin is with my Lord Abbot. He has asked me to attend to your needs in his absence. Are you hungry Señor Aubrey?”
Jack nodded, “Yes, a little.”
“Come then, I will take you to the refectory,” he went to turn and looked back and stared at him noticing his unsteadiness on his feet and then frowned as he noted Jack’s pallor and the sweat on his brow. “You are not feeling well?”
“Oh,” Jack swabbed his brow, “Not really, just a fever and some weakness and a little tired after many weeks of travelling…Nothing to worry about, not really.”
He walked forward and took his arm and guided him back to his cell, “Come Señor Aubrey, you should rest. I will bring some food and something to drink to your cell. Lie down and rest.”
Jack sat on his bed and wondered, ‘Why is Stephen with the Abbot? What is he up to?’ His doubts of Stephen renewed and at the same time he longed for Stephen to come back to him, so he could push these dark suppositions concerning Stephen from his mind. In his presence all doubts disappeared.
Stephen at this moment was deep in conversation with the Abbot about the current military and political situation on the Iberian Peninsula. The Lord Abbot of Montserrat was giving him a wide ranging and detailed briefing of all the personalities, factions and the points of dispute between them from Barcelona to Lisboa. Stephen listened intently, especially when he began to talk of the situation involving the various independence and loyalist, pro-English and pro-French factions working in Catalunya. He tensed as he noted the change of expression on the Abbot’s face, the questioning slightly awkward look. Stephen cleared his throat, “My Lord, I have heard a rumour about the activities of my godfather, En Ramon. Is it true? Has he volunteered his services and those of his men to the French?”
The Abbot nodded his head, noting the unhappiness this act of confirmation engendered. “Yes Esteve he has. Last month upon the French declaring war, En Ramon marched with his men across the border into France. I am sorry.”
Stephen bent his head, a strange mixture of sadness and anger directed at his godfather. ‘Why can’t he see that the French would have no respect for Catalans or real desire to support Catalan independence? But then are the English any more honest in their offers of support. Am I just a different sort of fool?’
The Abbot leant forward and touched his hand, “Esteve, you must not let this divert your attention. There is much for you to do, much for you to remember to report to your masters in London.”
Stephen bridled at the word ‘masters’ but chose to ignore it. He nodded and looked up at the Abbot. “Please go on, sir.”
So it continued, until there was a discreet tap at the door. The priest who had attended Jack came in, bowing to the Abbot, “My Lord, the English friend of Señor Maturin is awake, but he is not well. Perhaps it …”
The Abbot nodded, “Of course, of course, you must see to your friend Esteve. There is not much more I need to tell you. Roberto keep an eye on Señor Aubrey and if there is a problem report here and Esteve will attend his friend straight away.” He continued his briefing, leaving out now some details that were less significant and he ended with the state of mind of the King and his likely response to Napoleon’s demands. He looked at Stephen again, “Do you have any questions? Is there anything I need to clarify?”
Stephen shook his head. “No, no it seems clear enough. How long do you think before the King shows his hand? How long before he joins with Napoleon against the English?”
“He will wait for the return of the treasure ships from the New World. The Treasury is almost bankrupt, without the gold and silver he cannot raise sufficient troops or the armaments or ships required.” He stopped and smiled, “Speaking of the New World, do you want to hear some news of your old friend, Miquel?”
Stephen quickly looked up at him and felt a pang, a memory of the man he had forsaken for … for who… for what? He nodded eagerly, “Yes, how is Miquel?”
“He is now deacon to the Bishop of Oaxaca in Mexico, a fine young prelate he will make when he completes his term there. There is even thought of him being appointed to Valencia when the see is available.”
Stephen nodded, “That will please his parents. It is good he is away from home at the moment, I feared for him. His enthusiasm, his passions … he was a danger to himself … so eager for action.”
“Yes, he was certainly a passionate creature, but you perhaps know more of that than anyone else.”
Stephen looked up quickly, his eyebrow lifted, a questioning look on his face. “What do you mean?”
The Abbot looked back at him surprised by the sharpness of the tone, “Just that you knew him from his youth. You were his best friend and closest companion. Is there anything else that this should mean?” He asked, puzzled and a little uneasy.
Stephen shook his head, “Nothing, no I was not aware, surprised at the extent of your knowledge of our friendship.”
“My old friend, the Bishop at Orihuela has given me a full briefing. Now Esteve I think you should go and attend your other friend. It seems he is in need of your medical skills. Good night, my son.” Stephen knelt and kissed his ring and was ushered out of the Abbot’s office and returned to Jack’s cell.
He entered the room and looked down at Jack, lying on the bed, he was pale and sweating profusely, his eyes glazed. Stephen knelt down touched his forehead with his fingertips and loosened Jack’s neckcloth. “Now my dear, are you in pain?”
Jack looked vaguely at him for a minute and shook his head, “No, just thirsty and feel hot and then cold, no pain, just a headache and dizzy when I move ... too fast.”
Stephen unbuttoned his shirt and began probing Jack’s armpits, pressing here and there, noting the swellings. He then undid Jack’s breeches and felt at his groin in a similar manner and again the same type of swellings and then gently pressed around his liver, noting Jack’s wince when he pressed more firmly. “Is there some soreness and tenderness there Jack?”
“A little yes, when you press so …” Jack gasped.
Stephen now reached up to his neck and his fingers first brushed at the base of his neck, sweeping from the indentation at the centre where the neck joined the body and out and up both sides of his throat up to under his jaw and felt carefully along the length of his jaw line, first to the right and to the left and then behind his ears.
Stephen sat back and noted the blotchiness of the colour of Jack’s skin, patches of pink splotched across his chest and down his stomach. He pulled Jack’s breeches off and got him to turn over, gently pressing above the kidneys, “Any pain here Jack?”
“No, no, not really but my back and neck so stiff, sore,” Jack replied.
Stephen noted the slight oedema at the extremities when he pressed the skin there. Jack began to shiver and Stephen got him to turn over, removed his remaining clothes and urged him under the blankets. “There my dear, I think it just an infection of some sort but where the base of the infection is I cannot locate. There is no wound or specific swelling in one location, perhaps it is generalised. With sleep and rest and a little bark to reduce the fever and some laudanum you may feel better by the morrow. Perhaps an enema may clear the humours from your body, but not tonight. Rest tonight and I’ll attend to it tomorrow when we get to my house in Lleida. If you are not feeling better by tomorrow morning, perhaps we should stay here a little longer.”
“No, no Stephen, want to get home as soon as possible,” Jack protested.
Stephen shushed him, “Shhh, my dear, as do I. I will just go and get my bag. Have you eaten this evening?”
“Yes some bread and a little meat and some fruit,” Jack replied.
“Good, good,” Stephen stepped to the door and out into the hall, looking up at the priest waiting at the door and asked, “Could you please bring some warmed milk for my friend.”
“And for yourself?”
“The same and a little bread and cheese thank you and a glass so that I may give Jack his physic.”
He got his medical bag and hurried back to Jack’s side, seeing him squirm and try to get comfortable. The priest brought a tray to Stephen with the requested items. Stephen poured the laudanum into the glass and had Jack drink it and then mixed a little of the bark into the warmed milk and gave it to Jack. While Jack sipped on the milk Stephen ate his cheese and bread.
Jack drank the milk and lay back down, looking up at Stephen seated beside him, “Where were you?”
“I was with the Abbot.”
“Why?”
“Just discussing mutual acquaintances, nothing important He had news of an old friend of mine and of my godfather.” Stephen replied.
“Who was this old friend?” Jack asked squirming again.
“Oh a friend from my days at the University of Barcelona, he became a priest, Benedictine, the same order as those who are custodians of this place. Jack you are not comfortable, where is the pain?”
“Just my back and neck … so stiff … can’t get comfortable … though I’m so sleepy now.”
“I should hope so. The laudanum should have had its effect by now. Turn over on your stomach and I’ll massage your back and shoulders.” Stephen put aside the tray and stood up and sat down on the bed beside Jack.
He poured a little oil from a bottle on his palm and rubbed his hands together and then began the massage at the base of the spine, kneading and caressing, easing away the tension as he moved up Jack’s spine to his shoulders. He grasped his shoulders squeezing and kneading and then swept his hands up to Jack’s neck feeling the rigidity ease under the now gentle manipulation of his hands. He looked down at Jack and he was asleep. He bent forward and kissed the place where he had started his massage and then the centre of Jack’s back, his shoulders and then his cheek, enjoying the smell of him. His hand reached up to undo the tie that bound Jack’s hair and removed it, using his fingers to comb and untangle the knots, entranced in the flowing gold released. He looked down at Jack’s body and again felt a flood of desire he tried to suppress. ‘His body is much leaner now,’ he thought as he ran his hands across Jack’s bottom, ‘But I still enjoy looking at his strong body. No stop this, these desires for him are pointless. He has no interest in males and certainly would not for such a meagre, unprepossessing creature as me.’ He sighed and kissed his back again and stood up, pulling up the blankets and tucking them around Jack, kissing his cheek, “Good night, my dear.”
Jack mumbled a reply it seemed from the depths of sleep. Stephen returned to his cell and to a restless sleep. Tempted he opened his bag and brought out the bottle of laudanum staring at it for ten minutes and with a sigh returned it to his bag. As much as he was tempted he must not. He must be alert, his senses not dulled by his favourite nostrum for pain spiritual and physical. He lay back down and eventually drifted into dreams of Diana, Miquel and Jack. The reminder of Miquel this evening revived his memories of those passionate nights in his arms, mixed in with his more recent desires for Diana and his long suppressed desires for Jack. He woke with a sigh, fully aroused and seeking to relieve the tension began to rub and squeeze himself, his thoughts flitting from Miquel to Diana to Jack and back again until he attained release. He wiped himself clean with a towel and lay down and slipped into sleep, awoken by the bell calling the monks to Lauds. He rose immediately and washing himself, dressed and went to Jack’s cell to check on him.
Jack was still a little groggy from the laudanum but declared he felt better. He was still a little fevered and pale but after examining him Stephen cautiously agreed that they should push on to Lleida today. They went down to the refectory to share the spare meal of porridge and milk with the monks. The priest who had been attending to their needs approached them with a package, “Some food for the road, sirs.” He also gave an envelope to Stephen, “From my Lord Abbot, sir … details that he did not cover last night that may be of interest sir.”
Stephen grimaced, noticing Jack’s gaze as he pushed the envelope into the pocket of his coat, “Thank you for your kindness. Good day to you.” The priest made a sign of the cross, blessing them and bowed. Jack nodded to him and followed Stephen downstairs to the stables, curiosity alive in him again, but he waited until they were on the road before he questioned Stephen.
“Stephen what was so important that you were discussing that the Abbot thought it necessary to send you notes? I thought you were only talking about mutual friends or acquaintances.” Jack asked.
Stephen looked forward along the road and then across to Jack, riding beside him, “Perhaps he thought I would want to know my friend’s address so I could write to him. I shall look at the note this evening.”
Jack frowned sensing the evasion in Stephen’s response but remained silent. Soon though he lost all interest in what was in the note as the dull throb and ache in his head, back and all his muscles returned as did the fever, in full force. Every time he was jolted by the horse’s movement it was agony. He tried to remain silent, not to draw Stephen’s attention, but by the noon day stop at Cervera, no amount of pretence would disguise his physical distress. Stephen helped him down from his horse, “My dear, perhaps we should stay here tonight. You look destroyed.”
Jack shook his head, “No, no Stephen I’d rather spend the night in your house than in another inn.”
“All right my dear, but we will take it slowly then. Lleida is not far from here, it doesn’t matter how late we arrive; Eulàlia will be there.”
“Who’s Eulàlia?”
“She is my housekeeper and my former nanny. I have tried to persuade her to retire on a pension I would provide for her, but she insists that she must still look after me when I come home.”
Stephen ushered Jack into the tavern and ordered for them. He kept a close eye on Jack throughout the meal. Jack’s usually healthy appetite was clearly dampened. He called to the inn-keeper and arranged the hire of a carriage and horses. In Stephen’s opinion Jack would not make it to Lleida on horseback and he told Jack so in response to his protests. He with the help of the inn-keeper bundled Jack into the carriage, followed by their meagre baggage. He begged the loan of a blanket to cover Jack in the open carriage and quashing Jack’s now increasingly feeble protests tucked it around him. Stephen mounted the box and took the reins and turned to the inn-keeper promising that he would arrange for someone to return the carriage and horses and to collect their horses from his stable the following day.
By the time that they had reached the outskirts of Lleida the sun was setting. Stephen had turned off onto the side-road that led to his house and lands and looked back with concern at Jack who was now lying on the floor of the carriage shivering with cold, barely conscious. He urged the horses on and as soon as they pulled up in the courtyard of his house, Stephen jumped down from the box to check on Jack. He ran to the front door which swung open as he approached calling, “Laia, Laia hurry please hurry. I must get my friend into the house and to bed.”
The elderly lady suspiciously peered out in the half-lit courtyard and she smiled with true warmth and pleasure, calling, “Esteve, Esteve, my dear boy you’ve come home.” And then when she saw his distress, “What is it lad?”
“My friend in the carriage, he is sick, very sick. We must get him into the house immediately. Is Feliu there to help?” Just then a giant of a man walked out of the doors that led from the stables and Stephen turned as he heard his steps crunching on the gravel of the courtyard. “Feliu, Feliu, how are you my dear? Please come and help.” Stephen called as he then rushed to the carriage to open the door. “Please help me with Jack. We must get him to bed straight away.” He lifted the blanket and tried to rouse Jack but he was unconscious and so with Feliu’s help Stephen lifted him out of the carriage and up the stairs. Laia held a lantern, lighting the way for them up the stairs to one of the guestrooms that looked over the inner courtyard. As Jack was gently lowered onto the bed he muttered in his delirium, his head turning this way and that. Stephen bent over him, trying to calm him. He looked up at Laia, “Please get some water and a cloth Laia. I’ll sponge him down with cool water to try and reduce the fever.” Turning to Feliu, he said, “Thank you Feliu, can you bring up my medical bag from the carriage? The rest of our baggage is there too.” He turned back to Jack, murmuring comfort and caressing his face, his whole being now concentrated on him. He started to remove the sweat sodden clothes and looked up as Laia walked back into the room and for a moment the careworn expression was replaced by a smile as he took the bowl of water and cloth from her hands. “Thank you dear Laia. It’s a relief to be home. He went down so fast … he was …” He just shook his head in disbelief as he looked down at Jack again.
She nodded and patted his shoulder, “It’s good to see you again Esteve. You haven’t come home for so long. Don’t worry so about your friend.” She assessed Jack’s body, “He looks a fine strong man. He will survive this I’m sure. Tend to your friend and I will bring some supper for you. There’s some soup on the stove and some bread… a little for your friend perhaps?”
Stephen still looking at Jack nodded, “Yes, perhaps I can get a little into him, if I can rouse him.” He smiled up at her again and clasped her hand and kissed it, “Yes it’s good to be home, Laia.”
Her hand calloused from the years of housework, caressed his cheek, “So good to have my Esteve home again. We have all missed you …so long away from us.” She withdrew and hurried downstairs as Feliu returned with the baggage.
“Do you want your things put in your old bedroom, sir?” Feliu asked.
“No, I’ll sleep here, close to Jack. There is plenty of room in the bed and he needs someone to watch him or at least be here, if he is in distress.” Stephen replied. “Please give me the small bag, my medical bag.”
Feliu put the baggage down and nodded to Stephen and left silently. Stephen was now bent over Jack sponging his face and then his shoulders and neck and chest, murmuring comforting sounds, when he cried out in his delirium. He methodically worked down his body but the fever still burned and he could feel its heat on his lips as he kissed Jack’s forehead and then sat back. He bent and delved into his bag for the bottle containing the bark and the laudanum, holding them up to the light to assess how much was left and put them down on the bedside table. Jack was shivering now and Stephen pulled up the blankets, tucking them around him, muttering to himself, “I could bleed him, but I doubt it would do much good. Wait till the morning to see if the laudanum and bark will reduce the fever.” He bent over to lift Jack’s right eyelid and then the left, again feeling at his throat the swollen nodes under his jaw and along the length of his throat. “Hopefully he will sweat out the infection and the vile humours.”
Eulàlia had been silently standing there watching Stephen tend to Jack, saw the tenderness in his expression as he wrapped him in the blankets and saw how more like a caress than the cool hand of the physician when he touched his friend. This one he loved and prized above all others; she could see this clearly. She stepped forward and placed her tray with the bowls of soup and bread on a small table and motioned Stephen to move his seat to the table, “Come my dear, your friend will be all right while you have your supper. I’ll feed him, if he will take some of the soup. I spent many a time spooning food down your throat when you were down with the fever as a child.”
Stephen through force of habit obeyed her. She cut a hunk of bread for him and handed him a napkin. “Now don’t splash soup onto your clothes.”
“Yes Laia,” he murmured as he covered his shirt front and breeches and bent to eat the soup and reached for the bread.
She slipped another pillow under Jack’s head and shoulders so that he was in a half-sitting position and managed to get some of the soup into him and then offered him some water which he drank greedily. Stephen finished his soup quickly and stood up to retrieve his laudanum bottle. He measured out a dose into a glass and then placed it and the bottle back onto the table as he bent to lean on Jack’s chest listening to the sound of his breathing, muttering, “No congestion on the lungs, it appears … the dose of laudanum will be safe enough.” He stood up and poured from the ewer into another glass some milk and mixed in a measured amount of the bark. He held the back of Jack’s head, and touched the lip of the glass to his lips, offering the laudanum to Jack. He grimaced at the bitter taste but swallowed it and Stephen instantly offered the warmed milk which he also took readily. “Good, good my dear, with the bark to reduce the fever and the laudanum’s sedative effect, you should sleep easy and hopefully awake refreshed and rested in the morning.”
Eulàlia was unpacking their things and laid out Stephen’s night shirt on the back of the chair and pulling out Jack’s nightshirt turned to question him. “I’ll put it on him once he is down deep, totally relaxed. It will be easier.” He responded to her questioning gaze.
She nodded and bent to pick up Jack’s discarded clothing. “Have you any clothes that need laundering Esteve?” The guilty look that crossed his face told her all, “Then the whole lot need washing then. The clothes you’re standing in don’t look too bad. You can wear them tomorrow and I’ll wash the rest of your clothes and your friend’s tomorrow.”
He ducked his head, “Thank you, Laia, we have been travelling very hard and fast … No time really to wash clothes.” He attempted to explain. ‘Why do I behave like the little boy I was when I am in her presence? She always makes me feel that I’m a six-year old.’ He thought as she emptied the clothes from the bag and swept them up in her arms and marched to the door.
He stacked the plates and glasses on the tray and carried them down to the kitchen and was shooed away by Eulàlia, “The master’s place is not in the kitchen, go back to your friend. I’ll bring you some water to wash and some clean towels.”
Stephen went back to their room, checked on Jack and took his coat off and loosened his neckcloth. The room felt too warm and close so he opened the doors and walked out onto the upper patio, closing the doors behind him. He was leaning on the balustrade looking up at the moon riding high in the sky and then down to the citrus tree planted near the centre of the courtyard, the white orange blossom clear in the moonlight and the scent fresh and strong in his nostrils. The tinkling sound of the water flowing in the small central fountain in the courtyard could just be heard. He relaxed, he was home at last. It was the first time in these harried days and months since their escape from Toulon when he could relax. Jack’s state worried him but as Laia said, he was a strong man. He had seen men far worse.
Eulàlia entered the room with the towels and water for the basin of the wash stand. Stephen came back when he heard her bustling around the room, “Thank you Laia, you can go to bed if you want. I don’t need anything else this evening. I’ll sleep in here with Jack and tend to him. Sleep well dear Laia.”
“Good night Esteve. Don’t stay up too long. You are looking drawn and tired.” She warned.
“No Laia, I shall go to bed presently.” He walked to the wash stand obediently and clucking approvingly she left. He washed and then undressed and put on his night shirt and doused the candle and climbed into the bed beside Jack, settling down to sleep. As before in Recasens Stephen quickly slipped into sleep, the comfort and ease of being in his childhood home leaving him relaxed so that sleep came easily. He rolled closer to Jack, his head nestled on Jack’s shoulder and again Jack’s arms unconsciously wrapped around him.
This was the position Eulàlia found them the next morning as she pulled the curtains aside and opened the louvred doors to the patio. Stephen rolled off Jack blinking in the bright morning light, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Good morning Esteve, do you want breakfast up here on the patio or down in the dining room?” Eulàlia asked.
Stephen was somewhat discomfited but chose to ignore Laia’s severe expression and cheerily replied, “Oh, up here in the sunshine and fresh air, most certainly.”
He got out of the bed and without thought stripped off and began washing himself at the washstand. Eulàlia glared at him disapprovingly, “You are too skinny Esteve. You have not been eating properly. I shall have to fatten you up.” He blushed deeply, realising what he had done and he hurriedly wrapped a towel round his waist. She clucked, “Don’t be a fool Esteve I have washed that skinny little body of yours since you were weaned. Wake your friend and get him ready for breakfast.”
The Ways of Deception - Part 2
Characters: Stephen, Jack
Rating: G-ish , male/male love relationship
Spoilers: Post-Captain
Disclaimer: Characters borrowed from Patrick O'Brian & his heirs on a non-profit basis
The Ways of Deception - Part 1
Stephen struggled up the winding stairs with the final bucket of steaming water and heaved it up and poured its contents into the great marble bath and over Jack who smiled, the attendant sigh expressing his utter contentment and ease. Still asleep, he stretched and sank a little further into the warm water, wriggling his toes. Stephen smiled down at his friend and lightly touched his cheek, the touch becoming a caress. Jack leaned into the hand and murmured, “Diana…”
Stephen froze at that name and withdrew his hand immediately. He sat back on his heels and looked earnestly at his friend, the hurt he felt obvious on his face. ‘Had Jack slept with her? Had she allowed him all?’ Stephen thought, now anguished. ‘I have not spoken openly with Jack of my feelings for Diana, but surely … surely he must see …’ He shook his head wearily and stood up and started to remove his clothes, ‘No, no of course he doesn’t know. I can hardly be justified in resenting Jack’s pursuit of Diana. She has made it quite clear that I am not acceptable as a candidate for her hand. I am merely her confidante, her sounding board for her schemes to entrap him. I am a fool to think that she would consider me in any other light and yet … sometimes, just sometimes, a look, a touch or a kiss rekindles my hopes anew. As always I have told no one of my feelings for her, let no one see … not even dear Jack. Am I not a deceiver as well?’
He climbed into the bath and settled himself into the warm water, sighing as his tired muscles relaxed in the warm water. The rising tide of water caused by his entry into the bath and the touch of his leg against Jack’s woke him. Jack blinked a few times and then looked across at Stephen, his eyes wide, staring at him. The shafts of golden sunlight streaming through the breaks in the roof played around Stephen, the dust particles coruscating and shimmering in the rays, intermingled with the steam that swirled around him. His auburn hair seemingly ablaze, gold-tipped with sunlight, his tanned face in sharp contrast with the pale skin of his shoulders and upper arms a translucent white with its sprinkle of faint freckles also seemed to glow. This along with the intensity of expression in his pale blue eyes as he looked at Jack, all combined to create such a vision, a vision that stirred an unsettling desire within Jack. He looked away quickly, trying to ignore the familiar feelings of arousal. ‘Stop this, stop this. It’s just old Stephen. I must be sick … though in this light … like an angel.’
He looked back at Stephen who was a little confused now by Jack’s reaction. Stephen leant forward, concerned now and touched his arm, “Are you all right my dear?”
Jack nodded distractedly, the spell broken, “Yes … oh, yes … just surprised when I woke up. It’s good to relax after that haul up the mountains. I’m not getting back into that damned bear suit. Not even if my life depended on it. Any way I won’t have to. Spain is not our enemy and I can travel here as free as a bird.”
“Spain is not our enemy yet. Jack it would not be wise to linger long here. As much as I would like to show you my country, my Catalunya, it may not be safe for much longer and … I think it wise that we travel as quickly and as inconspicuously as possible … though how I am to hide a blonde, blue-eyed Englishman of your stature.” Stephen shook his head.
“Well that’s no problem. Just head for the closest port and see if we can get some merchantman to take us down to Gibraltar and then back to England. I agree; we can’t lose a minute. If I’m to get a ship, or any command at all I have to get back to the Admiralty, stake my claim.” Jack agreed strenuously, leaning forward and generating a mini-tidal wave in the bath water that sloshed up into Stephen’s face. Caught by surprise Stephen gulped down a mouthful of water and was now coughing and spluttering. Jack leant forward and patted his back with one hand his other wiped Stephen’s face gently, “I’m sorry my dear.”
For a minute Stephen was encircled by Jack’s arms and he leant against his chest enjoying the feeling of warmth and security he felt in his embrace, listened to the steady beating of his heart, thinking, ‘So good. I could stay here forever, held by him. No doubts, no lies between us … safe, warm …’ Stephen shook his head in negation of his thoughts, ‘No … we must get back. I have much to report to Sir Joseph …’ He looked up at Jack and smiled, patting his arm, “It’s all right Jack. We should wash and dress and I shall go down to the village to get some provisions for tonight and for travelling tomorrow. We’ll have an early dinner and then straight to bed. We will have to be up early if we are to get down to the coast as soon as possible.”
Stephen hurried down to the village at the base of the castle walls. He was buying bread and turned and bumped into Maria, the woman who cleaned and cooked for him when he stayed at Recasens. She cried out his name and enveloped him in an affectionate embrace, remonstrating, “Oh Sir, what are you doing here? When did you come? Why didn’t you come and get me straight away? Your bedroom will need dusting and I must cook your dinner. What have you bought? You didn’t pay too much for it, did you?” She scowled at the woman behind the counter who snorted and looked away. “Come, let me get your food, a gentleman shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Wait, wait Maria … It is very good to see you, but I will only be staying for the night. I did not want to put you to any bother. My gentleman friend and I must be on the road to Figueras in the morning. We must get back to England.” Stephen explained.
“Oh,” she looked crestfallen for the moment. “Surely you can stay a few days, sir?”
Stephen shook his head, “No, I’m afraid not. My friend is an Englishman and we have just escaped France and as it is we are too close to the border and I fear the French may invade. I must get him back to England as soon as possible.”
She nodded as she pondered the evil ways of the French saying, “Yes they are no better than thieves, always sending their cattle over the border to graze on our grass.” She looked up at him, “But then I still must come and make your dinner tonight sir, I can do that at least. Go back to your friend and I will be up in a little while with all the food you will need. Off you go now, sir.”
He nodded and turned and made his way back up to the castle, its bulk putting the village in complete shadow as the sun sank lower. Jack looked up as he entered the room, “Back so soon Stephen? That was quick.”
“No my dear, Maria my sometime housekeeper met me in the village. She will buy food for us and prepare our dinner. I could not refuse. She would be very put out, if I had.”
Jack smiled broadly, “Heavens Stephen, I wouldn’t have believed it, lord of your castle and the village below? Is there anything else I should know about you?” The tone and delivery of the query was light, but underneath Jack pondered on how well he did know his friend. These last few weeks had opened his eyes. Stephen was not the innocent, lubberly, other worldly being he had seemed to be. No, he had seen a different Stephen, a Stephen adept in deceit, a Stephen hardened and resourceful, tougher than Jack could ever have imagined. What was he up to in Toulon? Was he a spy as Christy-Pallière’s men had suspected? He seemed to know a lot of things he should not have known and there were all those packages and letters from foreign parts delivered to Melbury Lodge and the visits up to the Admiralty. Who did he see there? He didn’t think that the Navy’s Sick and Hurt Board would need to consult with Stephen so frequently, especially in peace time.
Stephen noting the hardening of Jack’s gaze and its now speculative nature, sought to divert his train of thought. “Well there is my other house in Lleida, left to me by my maternal grandfather and some land there too. I run merino sheep there, a greater number and of finer quality than the sheep up here in the mountains. These are just for meat and their wool is suitable for only carpets, too coarse by far for fine woollen garments. I’d hoped that you might have stayed there with me. It is far more comfortable than this tumbledown castle. Alas we cannot, our circumstances no longer permit it.”
“A wealthy landowner, with two houses … My God Stephen, if you had a mind to, you could have any woman you wanted. There would be many on the look out for a man of your means.” Jack replied and stopped short, the familiar reserve that now existed between them on all matters pertaining to women stopped him saying more. He looked away sharply and pointed at a tapestry hanging on the wall, a little dulled by age, but still obviously of fine quality, depicting a medieval hunting scene. “Stephen what a fine tapestry that must have been, are there any more like it?” He asked.
Stephen all too clearly seeing the diversion, grimaced but decided to play along in this mutual game of deceit, each seeking to avoid mention of the very things they sought to conceal from each other. It pained Stephen to see that the openness and trust that existed between them spoilt by these games, but he saw no alternative. He could not reveal to Jack his, by necessity covert activities and the thought of Jack talking to him openly of Diana as a conquest or as a prospective wife would be too much to bear. He desperately sought to keep this friendship alive, even if it was marred now by lies and a degree of mutual distrust of each others’ motives. These last few weeks of travail and danger had distracted both men from all considerations of anything other than that of escape and survival, but now that they had time to rest in relative safety both men had the opportunity to think on their lives these last few months, a prospect neither man was eager to pursue, for both feared what they would discover. Stephen looked at the tapestry rather than at Jack as he responded, “Just one of many that originally adorned the halls of my ancestral home. Sadly too many have succumbed to fire, neglect and moths. A pity as they had a practical purpose as well as artistic merit. This place can be damnably cold in the winter, the snow piled metres high against the walls when the wind blows from the north. There were fires lit in all these huge fireplaces but without the tapestries to cover the walls, the heat would have quickly dissipated.” He bent his head, murmuring, “So many valuable things I’ve lost or let go over the years …”
Jack looked sharply at him, hearing a tone of sadness, not consonant with loss of mere material possessions, for he knew that Stephen placed no value on them. He was tempted but too afraid to ask what else Stephen had felt he had lost and not sure he would relish the answer, if one was offered up. Maria bustled into the room with her shopping breaking the growing uneasy silence that stretched between them and Stephen turned to her with a sense of relief.
“Sir, I shall start on your dinner straight away. My little Rosa will dust and prepare your bedroom … Oh my …. The other bedroom, the one your cousin uses, the roof tiles were broken this winter and it’s in no fit state for the gentleman to sleep in. The bed clothes were ruined from the rain.”
“Don’t worry my dear. It is only for one night. My bed is large enough for two.” Stephen turned, “Jack … you don’t mind sharing my bed with me? The guestroom is not in a fit state for anyone at the moment. My bed is quite large, room enough for both of us.”
“No, it’s fine.” Jack stood and bowed to Maria attempting in his cracked Spanish, “Bueno Diaz. Mucho enchantee …”
Maria looked at him quizzically, not quite sure what he meant but judging from the smile and the bow, that he was being polite in whatever language he was speaking and nodded to him in return and left for her domain in the kitchen, calling loudly to the little girl who had entered the room, “Come Rosa, start the fire in the kitchen and then you can start dusting and preparing Señor Esteve’s bedroom.”
Jack settled back into his chair and picked up the book he had been reading as Stephen walked over to the book shelves and selected one for himself and sat down and quickly became absorbed in it, both of them glad of the diversion, both unwilling to breach the thin lines of defences that protected their friendship, too fearful of the damage that the answers to the questions that each longed to ask the other, would do to their friendship. Jack occasionally looked up from his book to glance at Stephen, but he was seemingly totally engrossed in the book he was reading and so he bent his head again to his book. The silence was only broken again when young Rosa came in to announce that their dinner was ready.
Over dinner Stephen outlined his plans for the following day, “I think we should be on the road as soon as possible. We can borrow some horses from the village and ride to Figueras to see how secure the situation is for us to leave on a boat from Cadaqués. We dare not approach the coast without some information. There are so many of the French in all the ports, on the look out for any who have escaped their net. We may get a boat but be boarded straight away and taken back to Toulon. I daren’t risk it until I can confirm it is safe for us to leave by sea.”
Jack nodded, “Yes, the French would have come straight out of Toulon on declaration of war. Much as Christy-Pallière may love us that won’t stop him detaining us. He wouldn’t have a choice anyway. What will we do if it’s not safe?”
“We shall have to go overland to Algeciras and then across to Gibraltar,” Stephen replied and looking up saw Jack’s disconsolate expression. “I’m sorry my dear, I know it will take longer and I know you wish to get back to London as soon as possible, but I for one do not wish to be taken.”
“Yes, yes you’re right Stephen, but how long will it take …” Jack was now thoroughly disheartened as he contemplated all possibility of a command slipping away from him. As it was, all the best commands would have already been snapped up by those at home and with any influence whatsoever and Jack was well aware of the extremely limited number of friends who could bring pressure to bear in his favour and that would make any difference to his now rather gloomy prospects.
Stephen seeing Jack’s now despondent expression, tried to cheer him. “Well if we can get to Lleida fairly quickly, I have horses there and it may take a month perhaps to get down to Gibraltar. We will have to avoid the coast. Cut across country, down via Teruel to Cuenca, Valdepeñas, Ubeda, Cordoba, Ronda and then to Algeciras. It is late summer, early autumn. The mountain roads are not the best but there will be no snow to bar the way. Hopefully there will be a ship in port when we reach Gibraltar and a swift passage to England and we may be in London in seven weeks.”
This did not particularly cheer Jack but if there was no other way and the risk of recapture at sea was too strong, he was now if not reconciled to his fate at least was realist enough to see that the longer, safer way was the only alternative and he felt so tired already. His head ached and he felt hot and despite the comfort of the bath his muscles were beginning to ache again. He thought a little and looked up at Stephen, “What if we cut across country west of here instead, across to San Sebastian or Santander. Try to get a ship to England that way.”
Stephen nodded, “Yes the distance is shorter but the probability of a ship sailing for England from either of those ports is much less likely. The English ships usually make landfall at Corunna, most would not choose to approach the French Coast so closely, now that we are at war again. The distance to Corunna is equal to that between here and Gibraltar. No my dear, I believe the best way is to seek a ship at Gibraltar.”
Jack nodded gloomily, accepting his friend’s logic, “Yes and the East Indiamen should be returning from India at that time and we may get a passage with one of them fairly easily.” With that thought he dismissed his worries for the moment and reached across to cut a slice of cheese and selected a pear from the bowl.
Soon after they had drunk their coffee, Jack was nodding off in his chair. Stephen got up and shook his shoulder gently, “Come my dear, off to bed with you.” He then guided him up the stairs to the bedroom. While Jack was preparing for bed Stephen slipped down to see Maria to check that everything was prepared for their early morning departure and to ask her to arrange for them to borrow horses from her husband. He thanked her and pressed some money into her hand, “Good night my dear. Hopefully it will not be too long before I can return for a longer visit. Thank you for your assistance.”
By the time Stephen had returned Jack was deeply asleep, flat on his back and snoring. Stephen nudged and prodded Jack until he turned to lie on his side and was for the moment quiet. Stephen stripped and donned his night shirt and was asleep almost straight away, snuggling up against Jack’s back unconsciously seeking the warmth of Jack’s body. Jack turned in his sleep and his arm encircled Stephen’s shoulders, drawing him closer and Stephen sighed and buried his face in Jack’s neck and drifted deeper. Jack was the first to wake, just before dawn. The fever had returned and Stephen’s body heat added to the discomfort. He threw off the blanket and Stephen feeling the change of temperature nestled closer to Jack who rather surprised and a little amused looked down at his friend in the dim light suffusing the room. It seemed so right after weeks of tension between them to have Stephen so relaxed and comfortable in his arms and he started to rub his friend’s back. This roused Stephen and he opened his eyes and looked up at Jack, blinking in surprise, still half asleep but he did not seek to move out of his arms and smiled up at him. “My dear, such a sleep I’ve enjoyed, so deep, so restorative.” He reached up and touched Jack’s face and frowned, “But you are feverish, my dear? Are you feeling well? Perhaps we should stay for a little longer so that you might recover from your exertions.”
Jack shook his head, “No, Stephen I was just rather warm with you against me and all these covers.”
Stephen nodded and sat up and stretched, “We must hurry Jack if we are to make Figueras in good time. There is not a moment to lose. The sun will be up soon and we must be on the road, just after.” He jumped from the bed, “Hurry along now Jack.”
At first, Jack felt less eager as he was enjoying the sense of relaxation and peace that he felt holding Stephen in his arms and the return of the feelings of comfort, warmth and closeness that had always been an integral part of their friendship. Jack snorted and suppressed an urge to laugh as he realised that their usual roles were reversed. Here he was holding back, uncertain and unsure while the usual deliberate and cautious Stephen was chivvying him along, urging him to action. It was novel, if somewhat amusing but Jack good naturedly complied and swung his legs to the floor. He was glad that the sense of restraint and tension between them that had re-emerged the day before was gone. He dismissed his doubts of Stephen and was just glad to be on the road back to England and the possibility of a command, no matter how remote his prospects.
They had a hurried cup of coffee and some bread and cheese and were off not long after dawn and were quite early in to Figueras. Stephen left Jack in a tavern and went in search of his contact in the town. The news was not good. His informant told Stephen that in all ports close to the French border there were paid informers for the French providing information on those ships and their passengers coming in and out of the port. There was also now a numerous and quite vociferous group of Catalans who believed that the French would help them gain independence from the Castellanos. They were disappointed with the English lack of support for Catalan independence before the signing of the Treaty of Amiens. They believed that England a monarchy would favour their fellow monarchs, the Bourbons over those seeking to establish a Catalan republic and would not help them in their bid for independence. They still perceived Napoleon as a supporter of republican freedoms even though in the previous August he had had himself proclaimed Consul for life, indicating his contempt for Republican values. This group had links along the length of the Catalan coast as far south as Valencia and numbered many acquaintances and friends from his youth. Stephen walked back to the tavern pondering what he should do. Further south they may have luck in gaining a ship but to do so he would be seen with Jack in places in Catalunya where he may need to travel in the future. He could not risk being too closely associated with the English and worried that anyone who knew him may recall his keeping company with an Englishman, an English sea captain. No, they must take the inland route. It was the safest by far, for Jack and for the future success of any intelligence activities he wanted to undertake. He regretted sacrificing Jack’s chances of gaining a command but knew it was more important in the fight against Buonaparte that his future intelligence activities in Spain were not jeopardised by a known connection with the English.
Jack looked up as Stephen entered the tavern and could see from Stephen’s face that the news was not good and his hopes sank. “Stephen, no good news I see.”
Stephen nodded. “Yes, my dear I find that it is as I feared. It is too dangerous to take ship from any port along the Catalan coast, so we must take the inland route. I think we should try for Girona tonight and hopefully Montserrat tomorrow and then to Lleida the next day.”
By nightfall they had reached Girona and Stephen found a rather down at heel inn outside the city walls for them to stay the night. He did not want to enter the city, though the inns there were more comfortable, as he wished to keep Jack away from curious eyes. For the same reason he was determined that they should be away before or at sunrise again and so they were on the road again in the early morning turning south west toward the massif of Montserrat, a distant blue smudge on the horizon. Jack was not feeling well, his vision on occasions was blurred and he ached and felt feverish but said nothing to Stephen, silently following his lead. He did not want their journey home interrupted. He knew that Stephen would demand that they stop and rest if he suspected Jack was not well and he also knew that Stephen was immoveable when he had made a medical decision. Stephen looked at him carefully when he turned and noticed that Jack was looking rather glassy-eyed, “How are you feeling Jack?”
Jack instantly sat up straight in the saddle and tried to appear alert, “Just a little tired Stephen, nothing to worry about.”
Stephen nodded and looked at him searchingly again, not totally convinced but he too was eager to go on. He wanted to get to Montserrat tonight to verify whether a disturbing statement made by his contact in Figueras was accurate. He was sure it was not, prayed it was not but he knew that the Lord Abbot would be able to confirm it, if anyone could. They stopped at Vic to eat and drink and by late afternoon were staring up at the steep cliffs and pinnacles of this sawtooth mountain as the horses picked their way along the trail that wound up to the monastery buildings, a collection of buildings in a hodge podge of styles from the Romanesque to the Baroque, clustered below the base of the final cliff before the summit.
At the door of the monastery where all pilgrims were greeted, Stephen murmured to the priest, “I have a message for my Lord Abbot … my name is Esteve Maturin y Domanova … he will see me.” The priest nodded that he understood and ushered them to their cells and hurried off to speak to his superior, familiar with strangers seeking the Lord Abbot. The message found its way to the Abbot and the response that the pilgrim should be brought immediately to the Abbot’s rooms.
Jack was exhausted and had slumped onto the bed and was asleep almost immediately, so when Stephen looked into his cell he was deep down and he slipped back out closing the cell door. Jack woke two hours later. The headache had not gone and he did not feel refreshed. The fever and thirst woke him and he stood up, swaying a little, his head swimming. He sat down again, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. After a little while his vision cleared and he stood again and walked out of his cell toward Stephen’s. The door was open, the room empty. He turned around and saw the same priest who had greeted them walking towards him. Jack called, “Pardon, senyor … le docteur …” he asked hoping the man would understand what he was asking.
“You are English?” The priest asked him in perfect English. Jack nodded, surprised. “Señor Maturin is with my Lord Abbot. He has asked me to attend to your needs in his absence. Are you hungry Señor Aubrey?”
Jack nodded, “Yes, a little.”
“Come then, I will take you to the refectory,” he went to turn and looked back and stared at him noticing his unsteadiness on his feet and then frowned as he noted Jack’s pallor and the sweat on his brow. “You are not feeling well?”
“Oh,” Jack swabbed his brow, “Not really, just a fever and some weakness and a little tired after many weeks of travelling…Nothing to worry about, not really.”
He walked forward and took his arm and guided him back to his cell, “Come Señor Aubrey, you should rest. I will bring some food and something to drink to your cell. Lie down and rest.”
Jack sat on his bed and wondered, ‘Why is Stephen with the Abbot? What is he up to?’ His doubts of Stephen renewed and at the same time he longed for Stephen to come back to him, so he could push these dark suppositions concerning Stephen from his mind. In his presence all doubts disappeared.
Stephen at this moment was deep in conversation with the Abbot about the current military and political situation on the Iberian Peninsula. The Lord Abbot of Montserrat was giving him a wide ranging and detailed briefing of all the personalities, factions and the points of dispute between them from Barcelona to Lisboa. Stephen listened intently, especially when he began to talk of the situation involving the various independence and loyalist, pro-English and pro-French factions working in Catalunya. He tensed as he noted the change of expression on the Abbot’s face, the questioning slightly awkward look. Stephen cleared his throat, “My Lord, I have heard a rumour about the activities of my godfather, En Ramon. Is it true? Has he volunteered his services and those of his men to the French?”
The Abbot nodded his head, noting the unhappiness this act of confirmation engendered. “Yes Esteve he has. Last month upon the French declaring war, En Ramon marched with his men across the border into France. I am sorry.”
Stephen bent his head, a strange mixture of sadness and anger directed at his godfather. ‘Why can’t he see that the French would have no respect for Catalans or real desire to support Catalan independence? But then are the English any more honest in their offers of support. Am I just a different sort of fool?’
The Abbot leant forward and touched his hand, “Esteve, you must not let this divert your attention. There is much for you to do, much for you to remember to report to your masters in London.”
Stephen bridled at the word ‘masters’ but chose to ignore it. He nodded and looked up at the Abbot. “Please go on, sir.”
So it continued, until there was a discreet tap at the door. The priest who had attended Jack came in, bowing to the Abbot, “My Lord, the English friend of Señor Maturin is awake, but he is not well. Perhaps it …”
The Abbot nodded, “Of course, of course, you must see to your friend Esteve. There is not much more I need to tell you. Roberto keep an eye on Señor Aubrey and if there is a problem report here and Esteve will attend his friend straight away.” He continued his briefing, leaving out now some details that were less significant and he ended with the state of mind of the King and his likely response to Napoleon’s demands. He looked at Stephen again, “Do you have any questions? Is there anything I need to clarify?”
Stephen shook his head. “No, no it seems clear enough. How long do you think before the King shows his hand? How long before he joins with Napoleon against the English?”
“He will wait for the return of the treasure ships from the New World. The Treasury is almost bankrupt, without the gold and silver he cannot raise sufficient troops or the armaments or ships required.” He stopped and smiled, “Speaking of the New World, do you want to hear some news of your old friend, Miquel?”
Stephen quickly looked up at him and felt a pang, a memory of the man he had forsaken for … for who… for what? He nodded eagerly, “Yes, how is Miquel?”
“He is now deacon to the Bishop of Oaxaca in Mexico, a fine young prelate he will make when he completes his term there. There is even thought of him being appointed to Valencia when the see is available.”
Stephen nodded, “That will please his parents. It is good he is away from home at the moment, I feared for him. His enthusiasm, his passions … he was a danger to himself … so eager for action.”
“Yes, he was certainly a passionate creature, but you perhaps know more of that than anyone else.”
Stephen looked up quickly, his eyebrow lifted, a questioning look on his face. “What do you mean?”
The Abbot looked back at him surprised by the sharpness of the tone, “Just that you knew him from his youth. You were his best friend and closest companion. Is there anything else that this should mean?” He asked, puzzled and a little uneasy.
Stephen shook his head, “Nothing, no I was not aware, surprised at the extent of your knowledge of our friendship.”
“My old friend, the Bishop at Orihuela has given me a full briefing. Now Esteve I think you should go and attend your other friend. It seems he is in need of your medical skills. Good night, my son.” Stephen knelt and kissed his ring and was ushered out of the Abbot’s office and returned to Jack’s cell.
He entered the room and looked down at Jack, lying on the bed, he was pale and sweating profusely, his eyes glazed. Stephen knelt down touched his forehead with his fingertips and loosened Jack’s neckcloth. “Now my dear, are you in pain?”
Jack looked vaguely at him for a minute and shook his head, “No, just thirsty and feel hot and then cold, no pain, just a headache and dizzy when I move ... too fast.”
Stephen unbuttoned his shirt and began probing Jack’s armpits, pressing here and there, noting the swellings. He then undid Jack’s breeches and felt at his groin in a similar manner and again the same type of swellings and then gently pressed around his liver, noting Jack’s wince when he pressed more firmly. “Is there some soreness and tenderness there Jack?”
“A little yes, when you press so …” Jack gasped.
Stephen now reached up to his neck and his fingers first brushed at the base of his neck, sweeping from the indentation at the centre where the neck joined the body and out and up both sides of his throat up to under his jaw and felt carefully along the length of his jaw line, first to the right and to the left and then behind his ears.
Stephen sat back and noted the blotchiness of the colour of Jack’s skin, patches of pink splotched across his chest and down his stomach. He pulled Jack’s breeches off and got him to turn over, gently pressing above the kidneys, “Any pain here Jack?”
“No, no, not really but my back and neck so stiff, sore,” Jack replied.
Stephen noted the slight oedema at the extremities when he pressed the skin there. Jack began to shiver and Stephen got him to turn over, removed his remaining clothes and urged him under the blankets. “There my dear, I think it just an infection of some sort but where the base of the infection is I cannot locate. There is no wound or specific swelling in one location, perhaps it is generalised. With sleep and rest and a little bark to reduce the fever and some laudanum you may feel better by the morrow. Perhaps an enema may clear the humours from your body, but not tonight. Rest tonight and I’ll attend to it tomorrow when we get to my house in Lleida. If you are not feeling better by tomorrow morning, perhaps we should stay here a little longer.”
“No, no Stephen, want to get home as soon as possible,” Jack protested.
Stephen shushed him, “Shhh, my dear, as do I. I will just go and get my bag. Have you eaten this evening?”
“Yes some bread and a little meat and some fruit,” Jack replied.
“Good, good,” Stephen stepped to the door and out into the hall, looking up at the priest waiting at the door and asked, “Could you please bring some warmed milk for my friend.”
“And for yourself?”
“The same and a little bread and cheese thank you and a glass so that I may give Jack his physic.”
He got his medical bag and hurried back to Jack’s side, seeing him squirm and try to get comfortable. The priest brought a tray to Stephen with the requested items. Stephen poured the laudanum into the glass and had Jack drink it and then mixed a little of the bark into the warmed milk and gave it to Jack. While Jack sipped on the milk Stephen ate his cheese and bread.
Jack drank the milk and lay back down, looking up at Stephen seated beside him, “Where were you?”
“I was with the Abbot.”
“Why?”
“Just discussing mutual acquaintances, nothing important He had news of an old friend of mine and of my godfather.” Stephen replied.
“Who was this old friend?” Jack asked squirming again.
“Oh a friend from my days at the University of Barcelona, he became a priest, Benedictine, the same order as those who are custodians of this place. Jack you are not comfortable, where is the pain?”
“Just my back and neck … so stiff … can’t get comfortable … though I’m so sleepy now.”
“I should hope so. The laudanum should have had its effect by now. Turn over on your stomach and I’ll massage your back and shoulders.” Stephen put aside the tray and stood up and sat down on the bed beside Jack.
He poured a little oil from a bottle on his palm and rubbed his hands together and then began the massage at the base of the spine, kneading and caressing, easing away the tension as he moved up Jack’s spine to his shoulders. He grasped his shoulders squeezing and kneading and then swept his hands up to Jack’s neck feeling the rigidity ease under the now gentle manipulation of his hands. He looked down at Jack and he was asleep. He bent forward and kissed the place where he had started his massage and then the centre of Jack’s back, his shoulders and then his cheek, enjoying the smell of him. His hand reached up to undo the tie that bound Jack’s hair and removed it, using his fingers to comb and untangle the knots, entranced in the flowing gold released. He looked down at Jack’s body and again felt a flood of desire he tried to suppress. ‘His body is much leaner now,’ he thought as he ran his hands across Jack’s bottom, ‘But I still enjoy looking at his strong body. No stop this, these desires for him are pointless. He has no interest in males and certainly would not for such a meagre, unprepossessing creature as me.’ He sighed and kissed his back again and stood up, pulling up the blankets and tucking them around Jack, kissing his cheek, “Good night, my dear.”
Jack mumbled a reply it seemed from the depths of sleep. Stephen returned to his cell and to a restless sleep. Tempted he opened his bag and brought out the bottle of laudanum staring at it for ten minutes and with a sigh returned it to his bag. As much as he was tempted he must not. He must be alert, his senses not dulled by his favourite nostrum for pain spiritual and physical. He lay back down and eventually drifted into dreams of Diana, Miquel and Jack. The reminder of Miquel this evening revived his memories of those passionate nights in his arms, mixed in with his more recent desires for Diana and his long suppressed desires for Jack. He woke with a sigh, fully aroused and seeking to relieve the tension began to rub and squeeze himself, his thoughts flitting from Miquel to Diana to Jack and back again until he attained release. He wiped himself clean with a towel and lay down and slipped into sleep, awoken by the bell calling the monks to Lauds. He rose immediately and washing himself, dressed and went to Jack’s cell to check on him.
Jack was still a little groggy from the laudanum but declared he felt better. He was still a little fevered and pale but after examining him Stephen cautiously agreed that they should push on to Lleida today. They went down to the refectory to share the spare meal of porridge and milk with the monks. The priest who had been attending to their needs approached them with a package, “Some food for the road, sirs.” He also gave an envelope to Stephen, “From my Lord Abbot, sir … details that he did not cover last night that may be of interest sir.”
Stephen grimaced, noticing Jack’s gaze as he pushed the envelope into the pocket of his coat, “Thank you for your kindness. Good day to you.” The priest made a sign of the cross, blessing them and bowed. Jack nodded to him and followed Stephen downstairs to the stables, curiosity alive in him again, but he waited until they were on the road before he questioned Stephen.
“Stephen what was so important that you were discussing that the Abbot thought it necessary to send you notes? I thought you were only talking about mutual friends or acquaintances.” Jack asked.
Stephen looked forward along the road and then across to Jack, riding beside him, “Perhaps he thought I would want to know my friend’s address so I could write to him. I shall look at the note this evening.”
Jack frowned sensing the evasion in Stephen’s response but remained silent. Soon though he lost all interest in what was in the note as the dull throb and ache in his head, back and all his muscles returned as did the fever, in full force. Every time he was jolted by the horse’s movement it was agony. He tried to remain silent, not to draw Stephen’s attention, but by the noon day stop at Cervera, no amount of pretence would disguise his physical distress. Stephen helped him down from his horse, “My dear, perhaps we should stay here tonight. You look destroyed.”
Jack shook his head, “No, no Stephen I’d rather spend the night in your house than in another inn.”
“All right my dear, but we will take it slowly then. Lleida is not far from here, it doesn’t matter how late we arrive; Eulàlia will be there.”
“Who’s Eulàlia?”
“She is my housekeeper and my former nanny. I have tried to persuade her to retire on a pension I would provide for her, but she insists that she must still look after me when I come home.”
Stephen ushered Jack into the tavern and ordered for them. He kept a close eye on Jack throughout the meal. Jack’s usually healthy appetite was clearly dampened. He called to the inn-keeper and arranged the hire of a carriage and horses. In Stephen’s opinion Jack would not make it to Lleida on horseback and he told Jack so in response to his protests. He with the help of the inn-keeper bundled Jack into the carriage, followed by their meagre baggage. He begged the loan of a blanket to cover Jack in the open carriage and quashing Jack’s now increasingly feeble protests tucked it around him. Stephen mounted the box and took the reins and turned to the inn-keeper promising that he would arrange for someone to return the carriage and horses and to collect their horses from his stable the following day.
By the time that they had reached the outskirts of Lleida the sun was setting. Stephen had turned off onto the side-road that led to his house and lands and looked back with concern at Jack who was now lying on the floor of the carriage shivering with cold, barely conscious. He urged the horses on and as soon as they pulled up in the courtyard of his house, Stephen jumped down from the box to check on Jack. He ran to the front door which swung open as he approached calling, “Laia, Laia hurry please hurry. I must get my friend into the house and to bed.”
The elderly lady suspiciously peered out in the half-lit courtyard and she smiled with true warmth and pleasure, calling, “Esteve, Esteve, my dear boy you’ve come home.” And then when she saw his distress, “What is it lad?”
“My friend in the carriage, he is sick, very sick. We must get him into the house immediately. Is Feliu there to help?” Just then a giant of a man walked out of the doors that led from the stables and Stephen turned as he heard his steps crunching on the gravel of the courtyard. “Feliu, Feliu, how are you my dear? Please come and help.” Stephen called as he then rushed to the carriage to open the door. “Please help me with Jack. We must get him to bed straight away.” He lifted the blanket and tried to rouse Jack but he was unconscious and so with Feliu’s help Stephen lifted him out of the carriage and up the stairs. Laia held a lantern, lighting the way for them up the stairs to one of the guestrooms that looked over the inner courtyard. As Jack was gently lowered onto the bed he muttered in his delirium, his head turning this way and that. Stephen bent over him, trying to calm him. He looked up at Laia, “Please get some water and a cloth Laia. I’ll sponge him down with cool water to try and reduce the fever.” Turning to Feliu, he said, “Thank you Feliu, can you bring up my medical bag from the carriage? The rest of our baggage is there too.” He turned back to Jack, murmuring comfort and caressing his face, his whole being now concentrated on him. He started to remove the sweat sodden clothes and looked up as Laia walked back into the room and for a moment the careworn expression was replaced by a smile as he took the bowl of water and cloth from her hands. “Thank you dear Laia. It’s a relief to be home. He went down so fast … he was …” He just shook his head in disbelief as he looked down at Jack again.
She nodded and patted his shoulder, “It’s good to see you again Esteve. You haven’t come home for so long. Don’t worry so about your friend.” She assessed Jack’s body, “He looks a fine strong man. He will survive this I’m sure. Tend to your friend and I will bring some supper for you. There’s some soup on the stove and some bread… a little for your friend perhaps?”
Stephen still looking at Jack nodded, “Yes, perhaps I can get a little into him, if I can rouse him.” He smiled up at her again and clasped her hand and kissed it, “Yes it’s good to be home, Laia.”
Her hand calloused from the years of housework, caressed his cheek, “So good to have my Esteve home again. We have all missed you …so long away from us.” She withdrew and hurried downstairs as Feliu returned with the baggage.
“Do you want your things put in your old bedroom, sir?” Feliu asked.
“No, I’ll sleep here, close to Jack. There is plenty of room in the bed and he needs someone to watch him or at least be here, if he is in distress.” Stephen replied. “Please give me the small bag, my medical bag.”
Feliu put the baggage down and nodded to Stephen and left silently. Stephen was now bent over Jack sponging his face and then his shoulders and neck and chest, murmuring comforting sounds, when he cried out in his delirium. He methodically worked down his body but the fever still burned and he could feel its heat on his lips as he kissed Jack’s forehead and then sat back. He bent and delved into his bag for the bottle containing the bark and the laudanum, holding them up to the light to assess how much was left and put them down on the bedside table. Jack was shivering now and Stephen pulled up the blankets, tucking them around him, muttering to himself, “I could bleed him, but I doubt it would do much good. Wait till the morning to see if the laudanum and bark will reduce the fever.” He bent over to lift Jack’s right eyelid and then the left, again feeling at his throat the swollen nodes under his jaw and along the length of his throat. “Hopefully he will sweat out the infection and the vile humours.”
Eulàlia had been silently standing there watching Stephen tend to Jack, saw the tenderness in his expression as he wrapped him in the blankets and saw how more like a caress than the cool hand of the physician when he touched his friend. This one he loved and prized above all others; she could see this clearly. She stepped forward and placed her tray with the bowls of soup and bread on a small table and motioned Stephen to move his seat to the table, “Come my dear, your friend will be all right while you have your supper. I’ll feed him, if he will take some of the soup. I spent many a time spooning food down your throat when you were down with the fever as a child.”
Stephen through force of habit obeyed her. She cut a hunk of bread for him and handed him a napkin. “Now don’t splash soup onto your clothes.”
“Yes Laia,” he murmured as he covered his shirt front and breeches and bent to eat the soup and reached for the bread.
She slipped another pillow under Jack’s head and shoulders so that he was in a half-sitting position and managed to get some of the soup into him and then offered him some water which he drank greedily. Stephen finished his soup quickly and stood up to retrieve his laudanum bottle. He measured out a dose into a glass and then placed it and the bottle back onto the table as he bent to lean on Jack’s chest listening to the sound of his breathing, muttering, “No congestion on the lungs, it appears … the dose of laudanum will be safe enough.” He stood up and poured from the ewer into another glass some milk and mixed in a measured amount of the bark. He held the back of Jack’s head, and touched the lip of the glass to his lips, offering the laudanum to Jack. He grimaced at the bitter taste but swallowed it and Stephen instantly offered the warmed milk which he also took readily. “Good, good my dear, with the bark to reduce the fever and the laudanum’s sedative effect, you should sleep easy and hopefully awake refreshed and rested in the morning.”
Eulàlia was unpacking their things and laid out Stephen’s night shirt on the back of the chair and pulling out Jack’s nightshirt turned to question him. “I’ll put it on him once he is down deep, totally relaxed. It will be easier.” He responded to her questioning gaze.
She nodded and bent to pick up Jack’s discarded clothing. “Have you any clothes that need laundering Esteve?” The guilty look that crossed his face told her all, “Then the whole lot need washing then. The clothes you’re standing in don’t look too bad. You can wear them tomorrow and I’ll wash the rest of your clothes and your friend’s tomorrow.”
He ducked his head, “Thank you, Laia, we have been travelling very hard and fast … No time really to wash clothes.” He attempted to explain. ‘Why do I behave like the little boy I was when I am in her presence? She always makes me feel that I’m a six-year old.’ He thought as she emptied the clothes from the bag and swept them up in her arms and marched to the door.
He stacked the plates and glasses on the tray and carried them down to the kitchen and was shooed away by Eulàlia, “The master’s place is not in the kitchen, go back to your friend. I’ll bring you some water to wash and some clean towels.”
Stephen went back to their room, checked on Jack and took his coat off and loosened his neckcloth. The room felt too warm and close so he opened the doors and walked out onto the upper patio, closing the doors behind him. He was leaning on the balustrade looking up at the moon riding high in the sky and then down to the citrus tree planted near the centre of the courtyard, the white orange blossom clear in the moonlight and the scent fresh and strong in his nostrils. The tinkling sound of the water flowing in the small central fountain in the courtyard could just be heard. He relaxed, he was home at last. It was the first time in these harried days and months since their escape from Toulon when he could relax. Jack’s state worried him but as Laia said, he was a strong man. He had seen men far worse.
Eulàlia entered the room with the towels and water for the basin of the wash stand. Stephen came back when he heard her bustling around the room, “Thank you Laia, you can go to bed if you want. I don’t need anything else this evening. I’ll sleep in here with Jack and tend to him. Sleep well dear Laia.”
“Good night Esteve. Don’t stay up too long. You are looking drawn and tired.” She warned.
“No Laia, I shall go to bed presently.” He walked to the wash stand obediently and clucking approvingly she left. He washed and then undressed and put on his night shirt and doused the candle and climbed into the bed beside Jack, settling down to sleep. As before in Recasens Stephen quickly slipped into sleep, the comfort and ease of being in his childhood home leaving him relaxed so that sleep came easily. He rolled closer to Jack, his head nestled on Jack’s shoulder and again Jack’s arms unconsciously wrapped around him.
This was the position Eulàlia found them the next morning as she pulled the curtains aside and opened the louvred doors to the patio. Stephen rolled off Jack blinking in the bright morning light, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Good morning Esteve, do you want breakfast up here on the patio or down in the dining room?” Eulàlia asked.
Stephen was somewhat discomfited but chose to ignore Laia’s severe expression and cheerily replied, “Oh, up here in the sunshine and fresh air, most certainly.”
He got out of the bed and without thought stripped off and began washing himself at the washstand. Eulàlia glared at him disapprovingly, “You are too skinny Esteve. You have not been eating properly. I shall have to fatten you up.” He blushed deeply, realising what he had done and he hurriedly wrapped a towel round his waist. She clucked, “Don’t be a fool Esteve I have washed that skinny little body of yours since you were weaned. Wake your friend and get him ready for breakfast.”
The Ways of Deception - Part 2