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and caring. She was such an amazing woman, to be so strong in the face of this chaos.
Her eyes met his across the room and it was always several moments before he could
break away, to return to his duties. Unfortunately, even in the midst of battle, or
perhaps one could say especially in the midst of battle, paperwork built up.
After several hours, as the light of dawn filled the glassless windows of the simple
village church, he arose from his desk in the corner of the church sanctuary.
Administrative tasks completed, he prepared to help the doctors in any way he could.
As he walked out to the main hall, that sense of foreboding filled him, a horrible
premonition that all was not right. His eyes went in search of Maria but he saw her
nowhere. Suddenly there was an awful commotion in the town square, the clear reports
from shots fired and then the clash of swords. He strode toward the doors but before he
made it, he was driven back. With a roar, the small group of red-coated camp guards
charged into the front entryway of the church and scrambled to close the doors behind
them. He caught a glimpse of ragged blue and white French uniforms in the square and
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Elaine Lowe
his tired mind snapped into action, putting the dispatch maps and battle information he
had received earlier in the morning to good use.
How many? he asked the lieutenant by his side, who scrambled to catch his
breath as the other eight soldiers of the watch tried to shore up the ancient wooden
doors with some of the pews that had been stacked at the front of the church to make
way for the wounded.
A banging began as the French attempted to break through the English barricade.
At least thirty sir. They seem pretty desperate, the lieutenant replied.
Brandon nodded, They would be. Wellington s got the Zadorra River impassable
from Arinez to Trespuentes at last report. They re completely cut off from the rest of the
French forces. They must be looking for supplies to hole up in the hills or to cut back
around toward the Pyrenees.
He pulled his sword from its scabbard, whispering a prayer of thanks that he had it
with him at all and wishing that Providence had thought to include a pistol with his
equipage that day. If we can hold them off for a bit and sell ourselves dearly, they ll
either fall back to look for easier prey, or another few cartloads of injured will show up
with a guard and they might be able to help.
Through all of this speech, the banging had increased in volume, along with a flurry
of orders bellowed out in strident French. The ridiculous thing was, there were no food
stores in the church, unless one counted some strong spirits used to knock some
patients out during an amputation. He doubted he could convince the determined men
on the other side of the doors of the truth of that fact.
You and you, he pointed at two of the men on the edges of the creaking pile of
flotsam barring the doors, Go and guard the back passages of the sacristy and the side
entrance. They re sure to send someone around in a moment. The men ran off and
whipped past the cluster of surgeons, orderlies and Spanish peasants who had gathered
toward the altar end of the nave. A splintering sound signaled the demise of the ancient
church doors and with a cry of, Avant! The French broke through into the church. His
blood boiling with tension, he ran forward into the melee, with his fellow soldiers at his
side and some of the braver peasants wielding heavy iron candlesticks taken from the
altar. Bloody minutes passed in a desperate fight. Thrust and slash, beating the French
back to the threshold. Men dropped around him and still he continued. Blood and
sweat ran into his eyes as he parried a thrust bayonet, the edge slicing into his thigh. He
staggered and almost went down but he thrust up and made contact with the French
soldier before him and Brandon could see the look in the boy s eyes as his life poured
out of him through the wound in the gut. Horror shot through Brandon and he froze
with inaction. The pause might have killed him but shouts, good British shouts, were
heard behind them in the square and the French were surrounded by fifty English
soldiers from a relief squad. The French wisely chose surrender over certain death and
dropped their weapons.
It was too late for the lieutenant and three of his men. Brandon dropped to his
knees, feeling for a pulse in the fallen men but they were too far gone from vital
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Match Made by Moonlight
wounds to the chest or gut. He was lucky. He closed his eyes and the face of the
Frenchman he d gutted flashed before him. It was driven away by sudden memory of
Maria. Maria! He staggered to his feet, blood dripping from the gash to his thigh and
stumbled along the wall of the church, searching for the side vestry chapels. He hoped
to God that the Frogs had not come in through there and wreaked havoc. He grabbed
open the door and started down the stairs but the world suddenly blurred. He thought
for a second that he was losing consciousness but the world quickly righted itself. He
paused and realized he no longer heard the sounds of the injured or the droning
commands of the troops and prisoners in the square, or smelled blood and sweat. His
thigh no longer pulsed blood. The air was cool and sweet and smelled of herbs. The
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