Honour and the Sword by A. L. Berridge

yanked it back hard, I hissed at him ‘Please!’
    Father and Little Pierre joined us, and we heaved the cart up together. André didn’t push at all, but with Col’s broad shoulder taking the weight no one seemed to notice. Two soldiers rolled the wheel in place, the cabo signalled us out, and the cart jolted back down again, the cabinets sliding about with a bang and a cloud of dust. I let out my breath in relief and finally let go André’s hand.
    The cabo grinned in satisfaction. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Well.’ I think he meant ‘good’, but his French was crap. He turned to the boy, reached out his hand and actually patted his cheek.
    André wrenched away in outrage, his face white and his eyes blazing with insult. The cabo took a step backwards, the smile dripping off his face like melting fat. I was willing the boy hard in my head, I was begging ‘Look down, look humble, please, for God’s sake look down ,’ but he didn’t, he was glaring right in the man’s face. One of the soldiers laughed, and the cabo flushed, his eyes went small and hard.
    I was talking, I was almost babbling, I said ‘Don’t mind my brother, he’s simple, he doesn’t understand,’ but it was no good, the cabo strode forward and walloped the boy smack on the head, sending him sprawling on the stones.
    I couldn’t seem to move, I remember an odd little pulse banging away high on my forehead. Then André rolled over, slapped his palm hard on the ground and began to clamber up. The look on his face was of sheer cold fury, he was going to fight, he was going to get us all killed. I was down beside him so fast I cracked my knees on the cobbles. I snatched desperately at his hands, cold, muddy fingers in mine, I held them like I was helping him up but kept my eyes on his face like I was hoping he could read me, I was whispering so hard I was almost sobbing, ‘Please, André, please, they’ll rip the place apart, they’ll find my Mother, please, my Mother.’
    His face changed. Something went out of it, and for a second he looked as dead as César. Then there was a little flicker in his eyes, his mouth tightened, he pulled his hands out of mine and stood.
    I stayed on my knees, my hands pressed on the stones, hardly daring to look up. I remember peering fearfully up through my hair and seeing André just standing in front of the cabo, but he wasn’t moving, he wasn’t fighting, and after a long moment I saw him lower his head and look at the ground.
    The cabo gave a short laugh like a grunt, reached out and tousled the boy’s hair, then said something to the others that made them all laugh. The boy stood where he was, and they moved past him and jumped back into the cart, lots of loud laughter and creaking of wood, then the crack of a whip and the cart lurched off.
    The boy’s head was up in a second, but he didn’t look at me, he didn’t look at any of us, he just spun round and stamped into the barn. Colin stared after him, slack-jawed with shock, he’d just seen the Sieur of Dax knocked flat by a filthy Spaniard and doing nothing about it. Then he turned and looked reproachfully at me like it was somehow my fault.
    Father said ‘Better go after him, boy, he’ll be kicking the walls again.’ Then he actually grinned.
    I went into the barn. He wasn’t kicking the walls, he was standing quite still on the top level, his hands thrust deep in his pockets and his head right down. I climbed cautiously up the ladder, but he didn’t shout or anything, he kept staring at the straw, and I saw the side of his face was flushed.
    I said ‘Thank you.’
    ‘For what?’ he said. ‘Letting an enemy soldier pat me like a dog?’ He lost control suddenly and smacked his fist against the wall. ‘Like a fucking dog. ’
    I’d never heard him swear before. ‘But you saved my Mother.’
    He jerked his head back. ‘All right. I know.’ He stepped back from the wall and threw himself down on his blanket. He said quietly ‘Like a