CHAPTER 6

C HAPTER 6

T he ambassadorial party made it to Calais without further incident, but then stalled as they waited for permission to leave. They were fortunate to have found rooms in a pleasant hotel near the docks, but it was a mixed blessing to spend three days looking across the English Channel at the white cliffs of Dover. “So close and yet so far!” Tamsyn said as she gazed out the window in the duchess’s room.

The duchess joined her at the window. “Waiting is hard, but I like knowing how close we are to home. A mere twenty miles or so.”

“Does Lord Whitworth know why the French officials aren’t allowing us to depart?”

The duchess smiled wryly. “Charles says they do it because they can. He’s not concerned that they won’t let us leave. Within the next day or so, he said.”

Tamsyn hoped that would be the case. She worried that the port authorities were waiting for the official declaration of war. In theory, even that declaration shouldn’t prevent a diplomatic mission from leaving, but in Bonaparte’s France, traditional courtesies could not be counted on. And her sense of foreboding, of imminent disaster, was growing.

“I hope he’s right,” she said aloud. “Since we’re all packed, we can be out of here like a group of mad March hares as soon as permission is granted and the tide is right.”

The duchess laughed. “I like the image of us as a group of hares leaping!”

Tamsyn thought uneasily that hares were often caught in snares. “The port is the busiest it’s been since we arrived here. There are several ships flying British colors, and passengers are boarding very efficiently.”

“Like us, they want to go home! But I find it encouraging to see others leaving.” The duchess sighed. “Surely our turn will come soon.”

While the duchess was focused on the ships preparing to depart, Tamsyn couldn’t help noticing the small clusters of blue-coated French soldiers who were scattered along the waterfront. Were they there to maintain order in the crowd, or for some more sinister reason?

Tamsyn’s gaze sharpened as she saw a carriage swing onto the street in front of the hotel. Though the port area was only a few minutes’ walk away, for safety’s sake Whitworth had been using a carriage because walking made him more vulnerable to assault.

Cade swung out of the carriage first, followed by the ambassador and Holland, the secretary. “Look, my lord is smiling!” the duchess exclaimed. “Permission must have been granted for us to board our ship and leave!”

They both raced down the stairs to intercept the men in the lobby. The duchess asked, “Have we been granted permission?”

Whitworth smiled. “We have indeed! The heavy luggage has already been loaded onto the Princess of Wales and we have only our small bags of personal belongings to carry on board. The tide is right and we can be on our way within the hour!”

The duchess gave a rapturous sigh. “I’m so glad! Let’s check our rooms to make sure we have everything.”

The Whitworths headed for the stairs while Tamsyn turned to Cade. In a low voice, she asked, “Has there been any trouble? I have a sense of doom hanging over my head.”

“So do I,” Cade agreed, “but there have been no threats. Just that damnable feeling of being watched. The streets are so crowded that it will be better to walk to the ship rather than try to drive the carriage. I hope the Scorpion doesn’t decide this is the time to attack.”

“If so, we’ll sense him before he can strike,” she said reassuringly. “I’ll carry your bag as well as mine so your hands will be free to deal with any trouble. Between you and Captain Hansen and the other guards, the Whitworths will be safe.”

“I feel that they will be.” Cade frowned. “But I think there will be trouble from an unexpected direction.”

She said lightly, “We’re very good at dealing with the unexpected.”

He smiled a little. “True. Time to get our bags and say goodbye to Calais.”

She nodded and together they climbed the stairs. His room was opposite hers. He let himself in, collected his bag, then crossed the passage to her room. They had identical canvas carry bags that could be tied shut, then slung over a shoulder and across a person’s chest so there was no need to think about it.

After she arranged her bag across her chest, he gave her his bag and she hung it over her other shoulder so the straps crossed in front of her. “With two bags balancing each other, I hardly notice I’m carrying anything,” she said.

Since it was a bright, chilly May day, she donned her soft brown cloak, covering the bags. As she tied her rather boring bonnet on, Cade said with a chuckle, “You look like a well-behaved spinster on her way to arrange flowers at the parish church. I assume your knife is convenient to hand?”

She arched her brows. “Of course it is. All the best spinsters of the parish know how to defend themselves.”

“Here’s hoping we won’t need to.” He held the door for her and they proceeded down the stairs together. Mr. Holland came next, then the Whitworths. As they stepped outside of the hotel, Hansen and his four soldiers gathered protectively around their small group. All of them were in civilian clothing because British uniforms might prove inflammatory under current circumstances.

Cade laid a warm hand on Tamsyn’s lower back. “Stay close and be careful, Tamkin,” he said softly.

“And the same to you, number one brother,” she said with equal softness.

The streets had become even more crowded, but with Cade and Hansen and the other guards to clear the way, they made good time toward the port. All of them, even the duchess, were alert and watching their surroundings carefully.

Finally they emerged onto the broad street that ran along the waterfront. Hundreds of people were crowded into the area along with carts of luggage, street peddlers, sailors, and soldiers. Travelers were boarding ships. Their vessel, the Princess of Wales, was directly ahead of them, with a welcoming gangway in place.

Tamsyn gave a sigh of relief. They’d made it. Just a hundred yards or so more and they’d be safe....

Her relief was premature.

With a clatter of horses’ hooves and the steady beat of drums, a French colonel and a group of subordinates rode into the center of the dock area and pulled to a halt a little left of the route Cade and the others were taking. An aide handed the colonel a cone-shaped speaking tube, and the commander bellowed through it with a voice that echoed harshly off the waterfront buildings.

“ Attention! Attention! ” he shouted in French. “I am Colonel Gagnon, and by the authority of Napoleon Bonaparte, First Consul of France, all Englishmen from the age of eighteen to sixty who might be enrolled in the militia shall be made Prisoners of War to answer for the Citizens of the Republic who have been arrested by the vessels or subjects of his Britannic Majesty before the declaration of war!”

There was a stunned silence, then an uproar of English voices. A man with a London accent bellowed, “Are you sayin’ we can’t go home? Why the bloody hell not? I’m not in the militia and I don’t know anyone who is!”

The clusters of French soldiers that had been waiting on street corners marched swiftly forward and began to form a line in front of the docked ships to prevent potential travelers from boarding. The ambassador and his entourage stopped. “Absurd!” Whitworth said, shocked. “The militia barely exists! It’s not a trained fighting force like the regular army. There is no legal basis for arresting civilians and declaring them prisoners of war!”

“It’s hard to argue the law with armed men,” Cade said tersely. “Hansen, you and your soldiers are in the army and legitimate targets. We need to get you and the rest of our party onto the ship before the French troops organize themselves. Stay close!”

He and the other guards formed around the Whitworths and forced their way toward the Princess of Wales . The ambassador had a protective arm around his wife and Tamsyn brought up the rear, her gaze scanning the rioters and her senses on full alert.

To their right, a group of shouting Britons pushed forward against the line of soldiers. As fighting broke out, some soldiers raised their muskets and shot over the heads of the crowd. Apparently they didn’t want to shoot foreign nationals, but that might change.

As more French troops moved to help control the group of Britons, a gap opened in the line in front of the ambassador’s party. “Now!” Hansen snapped.

They all moved forward and closed half the distance to their ship before Colonel Gagnon and his aides galloped forward to stop them. The colonel barked, “All of you men will be arrested and detained as prisoners of war!”

Lord Whitworth said in his excellent French, “I am the British ambassador and have permission to leave. Here is my signed and sealed official passport.”

He produced the document and handed it up to the colonel, who scowled at it before saying grudgingly, “You and the women may proceed, but the rest of you damned Englishmen will be detained.”

Tamsyn stepped forward and caught the colonel’s gaze. She’d removed her dull bonnet and the sunshine made her blond hair shine like gold. Speaking in flawless Parisian French, she said, “Monsieur le Colonel, only the ambassador and his wife are English. The rest of us are French. These men were ordered to escort the ambassador to his ship to ensure that he left the country promptly.”

Cade almost laughed aloud. Tam had a powerful gift of persuasion, and when combined with her beauty, there were very few men who could resist her.

The colonel’s gaze ran over the other men disbelievingly. “You’re all French?”

“Of course!” Tamsyn said, her bright voice utterly convincing. She shifted her gaze to Cade. “Captain Tremayne, speak to Colonel Gagnon to prove you are French.”

All the children of the Tribe of Tremayne had been raised with French tutors and spoke the language flawlessly, so Cade responded in French that was a little less aristocratic than Tamsyn’s accent. “Indeed we are citizens and soldiers of France, sir. We are not in uniform because we were ordered to escort the ambassador and his wife to Calais as quietly as possible. If we were in uniform, rumors would spread that France had arrested the British ambassador.” He cast a contemptuous glance at Whitworth. “The British may ignore the rules of war, but the sons of France are always honorable!”

Amazingly, the colonel believed him. “Very well, Captain. Once you’ve delivered the ambassador and his wife to their ship, join my soldiers in arresting these other Englishmen!” He turned his horse and rode down the waterfront, his aides following him.

Whitworth said with a laugh, “Lady Tamsyn, Mr. Tremayne, that was an amazing performance! I now understand why the Home Office supplied me with Tremaynes.” Taking the duchess’s arm, he strode toward the Princess of Wales.

They reached the gangway of their ship and several sailors bolted down to help the passengers aboard. The duchess went first, followed by Whitworth and Holland, then the guards other than Hansen.

With most of the ambassador’s party safely on board, Cade scanned the area behind them and saw several Britons who had made their way through a gap in the French cordon and were now looking around in confusion and despair.

Tamsyn hadn’t yet boarded. Taking in the situation, she said, “The Princess of Wales isn’t full, so let’s get some of these people aboard!”

Hansen was nearby. “The ambassador will want to help them get home,” he agreed, “but we have to be quick about it!”

The three of them split up and headed toward the nearest desperate travelers. Tamsyn approached a young family with two small children. The couple moved slowly since they were carrying the children as well as a bag of the family’s belongings. After a brief conversation, Tamsyn took the larger child so the father could manage the travel bag, and Tam and the family walked swiftly toward the ship,

Hansen jogged over to what looked like a father and son. The father was limping slowly with a cane. He could be heard begging his son to leave him behind, but the son flatly refused. Hansen joined them, and after exchanging a few sentences, he and the son lifted the father between them and carried him to the ship at a near run. When they reached the gangway, two crewmen carried the older man up, and the son hurried behind.

Farther away, Cade spotted an elderly man wearing a vicar’s collar moving forward with his wife, both of them looking frantically for their ship. A French soldier swooped down on them and grabbed the vicar’s arm. “You’re under arrest!”

The vicar cried out, “No! I’m sixty-three, too old!”

Refusing to release her husband’s arm, his wife said furiously, “Let him go! Clergymen and doctors are never taken prisoners of war!”

The French soldier gave a nasty laugh. “You can take it up with the First Consul once I have you safe in a cell!”

Cade sprinted over and jerked the French soldier away from the vicar, then knocked him to the ground with a hard punch to the jaw. He pointed at the Princess of Wales. “Sir, you and your wife can board this ship right here! You can sort things out when you get to Dover.”

The vicar looked at the chaos around them. Some Britons were trying to force their way through the cordon while others fled back to the town, hoping to escape and hide. Occasional gunshots were heard, and shouts of fear and anger mingled in a fearsome chorus accompanying the actions of the relentless soldiers. They’d rounded up an ever-growing group of detainees, mostly men, but also some women refusing to leave their husbands.

“God bless you, sir!” the vicar gasped. “Quickly, Elizabeth!”

Cade kept an eye on the elderly couple until they were safely aboard while he scanned for others in need, but by now the British travelers had already boarded ships, fled, or been captured. Only Hansen, Tamsyn, and Cade remained free in this area.

Gagnon or one of his aides must have noticed that most of the ambassador’s group were staying on the ship, not leaving, and realized they were likely English. At a shouted order, several French cavalrymen turned their horses and began to gallop toward the spot where the Princess of Wales was docked, closely followed by a small carriage.

Cade swore to himself as he realized that he’d waited too long. He bolted toward the Princess of Wales, but the cavalrymen blocked the route between Cade and the ship. He was searching for a way to weave between the horsemen when the carriage thundered to a halt right behind him. Cade was trapped.

The door of the carriage opened and Cade prepared to attack the occupant, hoping to fight his way free. But the tall, dark man who emerged from the carriage had vicious eyes and a pistol in one hand. “Now I have you, my British spy!”

Swearing to himself, Cade recognized that this was the Scorpion, so he immediately hurled himself at his attacker. After Cade wrenched the pistol away, there was a brief, violent skirmish between the two men. Cade almost managed to break free....

“You’ll not escape me!” the Scorpion snarled as he clamped a large hand across Cade’s forehead. An uncanny energy surged between them, unlike anything Cade had ever experienced. There was pain and searing light. Then the world disappeared.

The last thing he heard was Tamsyn’s scream.