‘But you still refuse to accept a commission in the army?’
‘Yes. As I said, I may have to leave soon and I must be free to go when the time comes.’
He continued to look at her broodingly. She had hurt his pride with her initial refusal and now she was afraid he would send her away. Finally he said, ‘As you wish. I don’t know how often I shall require you, but you can stay if you like.’
‘Thank you!’ She felt she had been holding her breath.
Maybe it was her heartfelt tone that touched him. His face relaxed and he said, with an almost mischievous smile, ‘But if you are going to be part of my entourage we really must find you some other clothes. Those English tweeds are very serviceable, no doubt, but they are really appallingly dirty.’
Leo looked down at herself and realized for the first time how mud-spattered and stained her clothes were. She also recalled, with a jolt, that everything else she possessed, apart from a change of underwear, was in the trunk in the back of Victoria’s car. Not that that would have been any help to her in the present circumstances.
She said, ‘It’s all I have.’
He got up and stretched. ‘I have no doubt that we can find something. Suppose I were to ask the quartermaster to fit you out with a Serbian uniform, but without any badges or insignia. Would that serve?’
Leo was seized with a wave of panic. If she had to undress to have a uniform fitted she would undoubtedly be discovered. ‘I doubt if he has anything that would fit,’ she said, clutching at straws.
He grinned. ‘What? Do you think you’re the only skinny lad in the army? He’ll find you something.’
Before she could think of any further objection he strode to the tent entrance and shouted for his orderly. The man appeared at once and was instructed to conduct Leo to the quartermaster’s tent and tell him to fit her out. ‘Officer’s quality!’ Malkovic called after him as they left. All the way, Leo racked her brains for a way of getting out of the dilemma, but short of a sudden attack of vomiting she could think of nothing. It crossed her mind how easy it would have been if she were not masquerading as a man. As a woman a fainting fit would have been easy to simulate, but in her present guise no such stratagem was open to her.
In the event, she need not have worried. The quartermaster looked her up and down, grunted, and disappeared into his store to return with a bundle of clothes.
‘This is as near as I can get. Got your own boots? Good. I’ve got nothing that small. Right, off you go.’
Leo took the clothes back to her tent and tried them on. The basic uniform was not so different from what she had been wearing, consisting of breeches and a tunic in brown serge. They were at least a size too large and she had to use a belt to hold the breeches up, but that was all to the good, as they concealed what feminine curves remained to her. The serge was rough against her skin, but at least it was clean. The best part of her new outfit was the overcoat, which came down almost to her ankles and was split up the back of the skirt for riding, so that it felt much like her old FANY uniform. At least now she could keep warm. The whole ensemble was topped off by a round cap trimmed with black astrakhan. Thus accoutred, she made her way back to the colonel’s tent.
Malkovic was on his feet and she had the impression he had been pacing restlessly. He stopped when she entered and looked at her, with a slow grin forming on his lips.
‘Well, well. Quite a handsome young fellow. What a pity I can’t persuade you to accept a commission. But at least you look less of a ragamuffin than you did.’
Popitch looked into the tent. ‘The horses are ready, sir.’
‘Good.’ He was moving towards the entrance. ‘You can ride, I take it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then you may as well join us. Tell them to saddle Shadow, Michaelo.’
He led the way outside. A soldier was holding his big grey, and others, ready mounted, waited in attendance. A moment later another man ran up with a coal black gelding whose delicate legs and pretty head proclaimed his Arab blood.
‘Take Shadow,’ Malkovic said. ‘He’s a good horse but he doesn’t take kindly to too firm a hand on the reins, so have a care.’
He vaulted on to Cloud and Leo swung herself into the black horse’s saddle. Followed by the escort they trotted through the camp. Malkovic led the way and Shadow jogged and danced in the grey’s wake, his ears flicking backwards and forwards, ready to spook at any sudden sound or movement. Leo sat still, letting her hands move with the horse’s head, and little by little she felt him relax. Once clear of the camp they were out on the open plain. There had been fresh snow the day before, but it had not frozen and the horses paced through a white carpet that was almost fetlock deep. Malkovic glanced round, raised an arm and gestured forward, then touched his heels to his mount’s flanks and Cloud sprang forward in a fast canter. Shadow surged after them and showed an inclination to make it a race. Leo quickly understood the warning Malkovic had given her. As she tightened the reins, the horse put his head down and bucked, almost unseating her. She eased the pressure and he settled into a powerful stride. She found that by gentle touches on the reins she could control him just enough to keep him level with Cloud. Malkovic glanced at her and gave Cloud his head. Side by side they flew over the plain, the snow scattering behind them, the wind whipping their faces, and Leo threw back her head and laughed aloud. It was so long since she had enjoyed a gallop like this and she had missed it more than she realized.
Eventually the horses slackened speed of their own accord and Malkovic drew Cloud back to a walk. They looked at each other and she saw that his cheeks were flushed and his eyes sparkling like a boy’s.
He said, ‘Well done. Shadow is not usually so ready to accept a strange rider.’ And she knew that she had been tested and not found wanting.
They returned to the camp at a more sober pace and handed the horses over to the soldier-grooms. Entering his tent, Malkovic flung his cloak onto the chest and shouted to his orderly to bring warm wine. The man appeared, carrying a steaming flagon. Malkovic poured two goblets and threw himself into a chair by the brazier.
‘Sit.’ He pointed to a second chair and she drew it closer and sat opposite him. He handed her a goblet and raised his own.
‘Your health, lion cub.’
‘Yours, colonel.’
He sat back and stretched his legs to the heat, and she thought she had never seen him so relaxed. The brooding look had vanished from his eyes and his smile, as he looked at her, was no longer sardonic. For the first time she gave words to the feelings that had beset her all these weeks, though only in her silent thoughts. ‘I am in love with this man. He is the only man I shall ever love.’
‘So,’ he said, ‘explain to me how the grandson of a poor Macedonian peasant comes to possess the accomplishments of a gentleman.’
This was close enough to her own history for her to reply with confidence. After all, her real grandfather had risen from lowly beginnings. ‘My grandfather may have been poor, but he was a clever man. When he reached England he saw that there were many opportunities for trade. He began to import goods from Macedonia and Greece – olive oil, herbs and spices, dried fruits – and his business prospered. He bought his own shop, then another and another and in the end he was able to purchase a small country estate and to send his only son to a good school. And in due course he sent me there, too.’
‘Which school?’
‘It is called Harrow School,’ she said. The wine and the warmth after the ride had made her daring.
‘Indeed, I am familiar with the name.’
That brought her to her senses. She knew enough about the school from Ralph to speak of it with some familiarity, but she could only pray that he did not know someone who had actually been there.
‘With the name only?’ she hazarded.
‘Sadly, yes. But I hear it has an excellent reputation.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she agreed and took the opportunity to change the subject. ‘May I ask you a little about yourself? Do you have a family?’
‘A mother and two sisters, one older than me and married, the other still a young girl of seventeen – your age, I think you said.’ Was there a hint of mischief in his eyes?
‘You have no father?’
‘He died ten years ago.’
‘I’m sorry. So we are both fatherless.’
‘And do you have brothers or sisters?’
‘I had a sister, but she died.’ Why had she said that? It had seemed to come unbidden to her tongue.
He said, ‘You said your father assisted with the excavations at Troy. Tell me about that.’
Now she was on safe ground and for some time she talked about the treasures her father had helped to unearth. Malkovic showed an easy familiarity with the legend of the fall of Troy and a keen appreciation of how the discoveries made by the archaeologists had turned that from myth into history. She began to understand that, although he had always been destined for a career in the military, his education had been much the same as her own.
‘Did you mind going into the army?’ she asked. ‘Would you rather have done something else?’
‘Mind?’ He frowned, as if the question was one he had never considered. ‘I took it for granted. It had always been my family’s duty and honour to defend our homeland.’
‘Defend?’ she said. ‘Against whom?’
He gave a grim smile. ‘It is hard for you to understand. Your grandparents may have been Macedonian but you have grown up in a country which is one of the Great Powers, safe on your island behind the protection of the Royal Navy. For us it is very different. For centuries we were dominated by the Ottomans. It was only in 1878 that we gained our independence. Now we are squeezed between two great empires, the Ottomans to the south and east and the Austro-Hungarians to the north. That is why our army is so important to us.’
‘I see that,’ she said. ‘But, Sasha . . .’
His eyebrows flew up. ‘Only my immediate family call me that – to my face, at least.’
Leo dropped her gaze. She had clearly overstepped the mark. ‘Forgive me. That was presumptuous.’
He regarded her in silence for a moment and that look was back in his eyes, as if he was trying to work out a puzzle of some sort. Then he said, ‘Well, why not? You are not subject to military discipline. But only when we are alone, not in front of my officers. You understand?’
‘Yes, I will remember,’ she promised. ‘Thank you!’
She was more careful after that, remembering that intimacy could only lead to her discovery. It still amazed her that he seemed to accept her so easily as a boy; but it occurred to her that perhaps the whole notion of a girl who might dress as a man and do the things they had done together was so foreign to his concept of femininity that it never crossed his mind to doubt her.
At midday the orderly came in with soup and bread and cheese. There were few luxuries available, even after the arrival of the supply train, but he had brought enough for two and it was obviously assumed that they would eat together. When the meal was over Sasha (as she now permitted herself to think of him) rose and took up his cloak.
‘I must go on my rounds. You are at liberty until this evening. Stay here, if you wish, or go, as you choose.’
The tent was warm, and she had a full stomach and they had drunk more wine with the meal. The prospect of an afternoon of leisure was too tempting to resist. She returned to her chair by the brazier, put her feet up on the other one and allowed her thoughts to drift. It was the first real rest she had had since they disembarked at Salonika and it was only now she realized how worn out she was. Thinking back over her conversation with Sasha she remembered her response to his question about siblings. Why had she told him she had a sister who was dead? To deny the existence of Ralph was perhaps sensible, to avoid future complications, but why a dead sister? Then it came to her.
Twelfth Night
. It had been lurking at the back of her mind for weeks:
VIOLA: My father had a daughter loved a man, as it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship.
DUKE ORSINO: And what’s her history?
VIOLA: A blank, my lord, she never told her love.
DUKE ORSINO: But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
VIOLA: I am all the daughters of my father’s house, and all the brothers, too.
Poor disguised Viola, hopelessly in love. Exactly like herself. On that thought, she drifted off to sleep.
She roused herself when the orderly came in to light the lamps and went back to her own tent to wash her face and comb her hair. When she returned to the Serbian camp she found she was to dine with Sasha and his officers. Used to the formal courtesy with which the Bulgarian officers had treated her in her female guise, she almost gave herself away by sailing into the mess tent ahead of the others. A hand gripped her arm fiercely and she found herself looking into the angry face of Michaelo Popitch.
‘You may be the Colonel’s pet,’ he hissed, ‘but don’t give yourself airs. You rank below everyone else here.’
She apologized and dropped back to follow the others, taking a place at the far end of the table. The colonel’s pet! Is that how she was seen? If so, did that mean he was known to have favourites, and had she supplanted Popitch? What exactly had he meant by the expression? And what did that reveal about Sasha himself? She watched him all through dinner, but she could see nothing that suggested he was other than a man among men. It was a new experience, to see how men behaved with each other when there were no women present, and she paid careful attention, for future reference. But there was nothing in their behaviour to explain Popitch’s remark.
The next morning she reported to the Serbian camp again and was again invited to ride out with the colonel. In the afternoon she made her way to the hospital tent, guessing that Sophie must be wondering what had become of her. Sophie and Iannis laughed uproariously at her new outfit and teased her that she would turn into a boy if she was not careful, but they did not seem to find her new role particularly strange.