“At dusk on the fourth day we came to the village. I had sent off some of the stronger people as scouts, more for form’s sake than out of much hope they would find anything useful. But they came back with news of the village and we turned off the road towards it. It is a place called Morales. Hard to believe you’ll find it on any maps. A church, a square with an old twisted tree in the centre, perhaps thirty houses. They did not welcome us. It may be they thought we were the French, though most had not stayed to find out. By then the snow had stopped and I could see a score of them disappearing into the treeline above the village, men and women, running away. Well, it turned out, of course, they were very wise. There was a moment then, I believe there was, when I might have called the men to me, drawn them up in the square, spoken to them, reminded them we were there on sufferance, that these people were our allies, that property was sacred. I did nothing of the sort, of course. I rode to what seemed one of the better houses, rode up to the front door, knocked with my boot, received no answer, dismounted, went around the back of the house, tried the door there, pushed at the shuttered windows and finally discovered one I could force. It was dark in there, silent. I don’t know what sort of room I’d climbed into, I couldn’t see enough of it, but I felt my way to a door and through it into another room where there were the embers of a fire. Immediately I looked for something to burn on it. There was probably a wood store under the eaves but I wasn’t going outside again. I broke up a stool by swinging it against the floor. Furniture usually burns well, that was one of the lessons of the retreat. I laid the pieces on, they caught. Soon there were flames, beautiful flames, and the room took shape around me. There was a table where the family must have been eating when news of our arrival reached them. Three plates on the table, meals abandoned before they had been quite finished. Beans, bread, oil. I tugged off my gloves with my teeth, picked up the first plate and stood there scraping the food into my mouth with my fingers. It was a reprieve, a marvel. I was, quite suddenly, intensely happy. An hour earlier the world appeared determined to be rid of me. Now it had reached out to save me.