This time Alava interrupted. “Otherwise? I am too old to be threatened!”
Bolitho turned and regarded him impassively. “If you refuse I will have to destroy the fortress!”
Alava smiled gently. “That of course is your privilege.”
“Unfortunately,” Bolitho spoke harshly to cover the nagging uncertainty of his thoughts, “I do not have the ships available to remove all these extra people and your garrison to safety.” He relaxed slightly, seeing his words strike home, the sudden quivering in the withered hands. “So, although the necessities of war dictate that I destroy the fortress and remove any future threat from it, I cannot leave you any protection.”
He looked down from the window again, hating what he was doing to the old titan. He saw Sawle leaning against the parapet, his head within inches of a black-haired Spanish woman’s, one of the garrison officers’ wives. She was moving her body closer, and he could see Sawle’s hand resting on her arm.
He turned his back on them and asked, “You have heard of one Habib Messadi?” He nodded slowly. “Yes, I see from your face you have.”
Bolitho swung round angrily as the door banged open and Captain Giffard marched into the room. Behind him was a young marine carrying a small basket.
“What in hell’s name do you mean by bursting in here?”
Giffard remained rigidly at attention, his eyes on some point above Bolitho’s epaulette.
“A horseman came riding hard towards the causeway, sir. Arab of some sort. My men challenged him, and when he galloped off they took a shot but missed him.” He gestured with his hand towards the marine by the door. “He left the basket, sir.”
Bolitho tensed. “What is in it?”
Giffard dropped his eyes. “That Frog prisoner, sir. It’s his head.”
Bolitho gripped his fists so tightly he could feel the bones throbbing. Somehow he managed to withstand the rising nausea and horror as he faced Alava’s shocked eyes and said, “It seems that Messadi is closer than we thought, Colonel.” Behind him he heard the young marine retching uncontrollably. “So let us begin at once.”
15
RETRIBUTION AND DARKNESS
BOLITHO was standing beside an open window in the commandant’s gloomy quarters when Allday entered to announce that Hekla’s gig had arrived to collect him. It was amazing to see the change in the weather which had come about in the last few hours. It was early evening, and should have been bright sunlight. Instead, the sky was concealed by low, threatening clouds, and the flag on the upper tower was standing out stiffly to a westerly wind which showed every sign of strengthening.
He had just been leaving the elderly commandant when a sentry on the ramparts had reported the change. When he had gone to the tower to see for himself he had watched the western headland slowly disappear beneath a great bank of rolling sand and dust, so that it had appeared as if the causeway was ended abruptly and pointing into a swirling void. Even within the bay the ships had begun to pitch, and Gillmor had sighed with relief when he had seen his first lieutenant laying out a second anchor for safety’s sake.