That Rake's Progress - Chapter 13

We continue the story of a Regency Rake from the world of Regency romance in Chapter 13 from 

That Rake’s Progress

by Miss Louisa Ayling.

With thoughts of Horatia, will Matthias have a safe journey from Lisbon north-west to Lord Wellington’s British Headquarters on horseback.

Will his meeting with Lord Wellington and  introduction to Major Scovell, help to forge collaborative efforts in code breaking to protect the British forces?

Transcript

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We continue the story of a Regency Rake from the world of Regency Romance in chapter 13, from The Rake's Progress by Miss Louisa Ailing. With thoughts of Horatia, will Matthias have a safe journey from Lisbon northwest to Lord Wellington's British headquarters on horseback? Will his meeting with Lord Wellington and introduction to Major Scovell help to forge collaborative efforts in code-breaking to protect the British forces? 13 October 1810. Atascas in the Cheeto District, Lisbon. On the morning of his second day in Lisbon, the day broke with the golden rays of the sun reflecting off a mirror strategically placed on the wall, so that the reflection fell straight onto his face. He turned his head, only to have to squint then cover his eyes against the strong sunlight. He groaned loudly as he turned his head away. Last evening, after eating a large dish of fejuada for his dinner, he knew it had been a mistake to drink the surveyor with the landlord and the locals, then go on to a delicious deep red wine, followed by ginger, a local cherry liqueur. Being drawn into the celebration of Wellington's success at Basaco, now over a week ago, had been a big, very big mistake and it didn't cost him a single reel. Now he realized the error of his ways, he was now paying for it. It had resulted in the repetitive banging in his frazzled skull like a dull ringing church bell. He shuddered, then swallowed. His tongue felt thick, and his mouth felt rough and dry, and tasted like a cesspit, of course, not that he had ever tasted one. He laid there for nearly another hour before eventually, and unsteadily, not knowing what had disturbed his slumber, he rose slowly from his prone position onto his forearms. He'd favored this sleeping position where his head had been stuffed against the pillows, shutting out the light and the sounds outside, but his neck was now stiff too, due to its unusually stretched position. Then he heard it, banging on his door. There is a messenger waiting for you. Please, Senor. The soldier said it is urgent, Senor. The banging commenced again. Matthias slowly rose and sat on the edge of his bed, he ran his fingers through his hair to push it back off his face, then his hand slid down to his neck, which he rubbed firmly to ease the stiffness. He realized he was still wearing his pantaloons, and a linen shirt, so he stood and slightly unsteadily made his way to the door and swung it open. As he did, a raised fist hit his chest, in the process of knocking the door again. He staggered backwards a step. Senor Temple, you are awake at last. The messenger awaits a reply. The young boy handed Matthias a folded and sealed parchment. Thank you, Thomas. Tell the messenger to wait, I will read it and decide upon my reply. A resposta affirmativa, Senor. Thomas turned, disappearing down the hall, his footsteps could be heard running down the wooden stairs as he descended upon his errand. Matthias closed the door, walked across the room, and lowered himself into the wooden chair next to a small table by the open window. He rubbed his eyes, his vision slightly blurred as he tried to focus on the missive. He broke the seal to read its contents. Bembridge, sir. Your presence is requested immediately. You are to travel north to the Pero Negro headquarters tomorrow, it should take about a day. Wellington. Matthias tapped the missive against his chin in thought. He would have to agree, but he needed to obtain at least a horse to get him there. He unfolded a map from his valise, checked the distance. It must be about a 20-mile journey, so not too far. He definitely would not have a problem doing it in a day. He folded the map, retrieved his pen and its secure box in his writing desk, and a small pink feather dropped onto the table. Matthias quickly picked it up, touched it to his cheek, then inhaled the scent, then kissed it before returning it to the box. He had to take several deep breaths to get himself back under control, just the thought of his little pee hen rushed warm liquidity into his loins, making his pantaloons uncomfortable. He missed her, but he was not ready for marriage. Olox. He thumped the table, then rubbed his hands on his eyes, then put his face in his hands and leant on the desk. He shuddered, then slid his fingers through his dark hair, trying to bring himself back to the job in hand. He paused and thought, then took a few deep breaths, only then did he start to think about his reply and quickly penned it, folding and sealing it, then slowly made his way downstairs to locate Thomas and the messenger. The young boy stood talking to a young lieutenant. Thank you, Thomas. The boy grinned widely as Matthias flicked him a five-race copper coin, and he ran off. Matthias then turned to the young officer. Will you convey this to Lord Wellington for me, Lieutenant? The young man stood up straight and saluted. Yes, sir, of course, sir, they are my orders, sir. Of course, Lieutenant? Cramer, sir. Part of his lordship's administrative team, sir. Stand easy then, Cramer. Have you eaten? No, sir, not yet, sir. Come with me, I'm about to partake of some eggs. Join me. So Matthias guided the young man into a private salon and ordered coffee, eggs, bread and cheese, which both consumed ready to face the rest of the day, with Matthias consuming several large cups of delicious coffee, knowing it was going to be a busy day for both of them, and he needed to get his wits about him to accomplish it. He said farewell to the lieutenant, and his reply was soon on its way. 14 October 1810. Waking up early on a pleasantly warm morning, the result of a much better night's sleep, with no alcohol imbibed the evening before, and that, combined with an early night, Matthias had risen, quickly washed, dressed appropriately for the journey, and packed his meagre belongings before breakfast. He took his valise and writing desk down with him, ready to leave straight after he had broken his fast, and paid his contour at the Taskas. He took his leave of the landlord and his staff, and a special audio to Tomas, before entering the stable to strap his items on his already prepared hired horse. He adjusted the stirrups, then slit his booted foot in the left one, swung his right leg effortlessly over the saddle, smoothly mounting, and taking the reins in his equestrian's calloused hands, just as the bell and a clock tower of a nearby church chimed the half-hour. He checked his fob watch, as he was leaving the stable yard. He was on schedule, it was at the exact time he had planned. This meant he would pass out of the perimeter of the city on his way northwards on the surrounding plains following the Togas River within 20 minutes, leaving the city well behind before 7 o'clock. As he left Lisbon, he realized that dressing in the way of the locals had definitely given him an advantage. He didn't look like an English aristocrat. He blended in as a slightly scruffy, unshaven Portuguese writer and poet with his hair too long and disheveled. He had composed some prose and a few poems about beautiful and intriguing ladies he had met in Lisbon and the storm he had travelled through with recognizable and believable locations, for realism. Luckily his Portuguese was very good and he had perfected the local dialect so no one could question his authenticity. Being of dark colouring with a swarthy skin, it was easy for him to just blend in, and his masculine, broad-shouldered good looks, both the men and especially the women noticed him, and returned his simple greeting in whichever village he entered. He guided his horse, Trasgo, along the muddy trail at a trot, being very careful, slowing down when the ground beneath his hoofs became treacherously slick underfoot. The last thing he needed was a damaged or lame horse for his mission, he needed to get there and back in one piece, both him and the horse. He discovered that although they travelled slower due to the conditions, they were still making good progress and the miles had started to be eaten away. The area had seen much conflict over the last few years, and much of the terrain had lost its natural flora, either uprooted, burnt or trampled upon. Where once there had been neat rows of vines or olive trees stretching across the hills and vales, forming the well-known vineyards and olive groves of the region, there was now just barren land trampled and rutted to mud underfoot, hooves and wagon wheels. A slight drizzle had commenced as he traversed the hillside trail, as he was now travelling northwest, away from the Togas River close to Alvaca, which was on a plain between the hills where the first and second line of the defences had been formed, the first line being slightly further north, near to Vila Franca de Shira, known as the Togas Flank. The drizzle now had just turned into heavier rain, so Matthias pulled up the collar of his coat and pulled his wide-brimmed hat further down onto his head, to stop the rain from hitting his face and trickling down his neck, it was at least warm, not like it would be at home, cold and frosty. It was forty minutes past ten, and he knew had about another hour, the rain had eased off a little, so he decided to stop by an outcrop where a small brook gurgled towards the toggers. He slid from the saddle, led Trasgo to the brook for a drink, and slid his own water leather bottle from his saddlebag, filled it, then removed a small pastry he had brought with him. He ate his repast quickly, as he wanted to get on the move again. His horse had found some dry grass, chomped on it and had another drink of water. Matthias remounted, they were soon back on their way again, and it was not long before they were closing in on their destination. The surrounding terrain was covered mainly with red uniforms and tent-covered camps. The British troops had arrived and camped in their billets, spread out on the plains behind the first line. Lord Wellington and his troops had arrived. This was what was to become known as the lines of Torres Veterosh. The area was renowned to have around 150 Anglo-Portuguese faults and obstacles put there by the forces designed by Lord Wellington and his chief engineer, Colonel Fletcher. Matthias continued through the area, being stopped several times, which he did not mind as he knew that they were checking for the enemy and spies infiltrating the British camp. The village of Pero Negro sat on a slight incline, where he found out where Lord Wellington's headquarters was based, and discovered it was the Quinta dos Freixos Estate House, a fairly large building on an elevation that overlooked the first defense line, giving his lordship an excellent view of any of the proceedings, including the sighting of Marshal Massanard and the French army. Arriving at the gates, he smoothly dismounted to speak to the guards stationed there and explained the reason for his visit. They checked his papers, that he had well concealed on his person, and they bade him entrance onto the estate and pointed him towards the main house. He soon strode through the entrance door, then found himself seated in a small hallway outside a pair of large wooden doors. Matthias sat there for about 15 minutes, before an officer marched through the wooden door towards the front door to leave. Then another officer marched in through the front door and knocked on the wooden door that led to Lord Wellington's office. He was bade to enter, and then another officer came out through the double doors into hallway, asking whether he was Lord Bembridge. When Matthias confirmed that that was he, he was asked to follow him into the office. Standing up behind the large oak desk stood a tall officer in his emblazoned red uniform, his aquiline nose prominent and a pleasant face. Bembridge, you are in good time, sir. Lord Wellington held out his hand in greeting, Matthias took it and shook firmly. May I introduce you to Major George Scovell? The two gentlemen acknowledged each other, then they all sat. Wellington asked that refreshments be brought in as this was to be a very thorough meeting. They discussed Matthias's journey and the defense lines, and waited until after two trays appeared being carried by the headquarters staff, and once coffee had been served the three gentlemen were left to their meeting. So, now let's get down to business, gentlemen. I brought you two together for a very good reason. Major Scovell has been working on deciphering the messages that have been intercepted going back and forth over the enemy lines. A worrying occurrence, but there are always some who sympathize with the enemy. It is our job to lessen the effect on our patriotic men. I am aware that you, Lord Bembridge, have performed a similar duty at home. Yes, my lord. We discovered a new cipher and ciphering technique being used. Matthias responded. That is most interesting, Lord Bembridge, we obviously have much to share, stated the Major. Which is why we are here, gentlemen, you can see how important it is that we all have the same knowledge, to update each other regularly. Watching for changes, Wellington added, and Matthias confirmed, I can understand the importance of that. They sat discussing the strategy for moving forward and methods of keeping up to date, whilst they sipped coffee and ate some of the local delicacies. An hour later Matthias, accompanied by the Major, left the office, who showed him to his accommodation and arranged for a time that they should meet later that afternoon prior to dinner, to start getting down to the business of code breaking.