Lines of Wellington Page #4

you'd better get off home as well.

Or I'll get rid of you myself.

They're here to help, Father.

They came to help us.

They came. They helped.

But if the French are here,

it's because of them.

It's this blasted continental blockade.

It is, isn't it?

- Well...

- Of course it is.

Very well.

They came.

They've helped. Agreed.

Sometimes they help a bit too much.

Ask Brites how much they helped.

Just two?!

We only saw three, Father.

And we couldn't get the third.

It kicked Vintm here in the back,

and tried to take a bite out of me.

I nearly lost my arm.

It shot off into the trees.

There's no sign of the others.

Well go on then, get things ready.

Let's give thanks to the Virgin

for the French she put in our grasp,

and the supper we'll put in our paunch,

in Her infinite mercy.

Come on, let's go!

You bunch of sinners.

You lot too.

What're they doing there?

The Abbot sent them

to cut the heads off the French...

Why?

To put along the road to Lisbon.

So the others know what to expect.

- You didn't pray.

- What?

This afternoon. You didn't pray.

- Why do you say that?

- You didn't move your lips.

- I was praying in my head.

- No, you weren't.

You're like me. You don't pray.

You don't pray?

I can't any more.

I dreamt about you.

When? You don't know me.

I dreamt about you

three nights running.

About me, how?

Bathed in tears.

Why?!

For me.

Only fools think wars

aren't meant for women.

They kill as well as men do,

and die the same death.

That one...

She's sent more Jacobins to the kingdom

of heaven than you and me together.

To heaven? Or hell?

What hell?

Hell doesn't exist.

This is hell.

Hell is down here.

Hell is us.

Now up there, there's no war.

Up there, even heretics

sit at the Lord's table in peace.

Merciful warrior not staining God's

name with the blood you spill.

God has nothing to do with this.

God is peace.

You can't sleep?

If I sleep, I dream.

About me?

About the war.

Blood.

Dead people.

The Abbot said the English

had helped you.

They did.

Come on, quick!

Hey, lads. Come.

Come and see!

No! No!

Don't move!

See your child? Let us do it.

Why do you resist?

The English!

I wanted to die.

But I didn't.

I watched with foreboding

as the Abbot's motley army tried

to find cover in that desolate place,

they seemed to be headed straight

for the depths of hell.

I secretly said a prayer for him.

No matter what,

as I had said to Bordalo,

he was Portuguese

and a man of God...

I almost felt bad about letting Bordalo

lie to him about the Poles and himself.

I have no idea why,

but though we come from different

worlds and have such different views,

Bordalo reminded me

of the older brother I'd never had.

Do you need help?

I have help enough.

If you want to sell that pot, I'll buy

it. It'll lighten the beast's load.

I'm not selling nothing. Nor buying!

He's ill.

The English girl's right.

You really should...

What with? We have no guns.

Here's the Tagus.

Here's the sea.

Here's Lisbon...

This here is Torres Vedras.

This is the first line of Torres.

The vital one.

There's not even the eye of a needle

for the French to get through.

What if they do?

They won't.

They can't get through.

But if they do, there are still

two lines before Lisbon.

I'm not sure where.

I haven't seen them...

The last is somewhere around Sintra,

I think.

Here.

But they won't get through!

Only by crossing the Tagus.

And that's impossible.

It's as wide as a sea!

And the sea...

...belongs to the English.

They can't get through!

Attention! Down there!

The French!

How many?

Who knows?

More than these sons of b*tches.

They look more dead than alive.

They're heading for Lisbon.

They won't set foot there.

Where are they taking us?

What do you want to do? We'll get

lost in this sh*t hole without them.

Don't you think we're already lost,

idiot?

Sh*t, what the hell is this?

- What carnage!

- Too right!

It was the bastard French!

They can't be far away.

What a beautiful whore!

Lovely girl...

You!

What are you doing!?

Stop that!

Stop it now!

Now!

Monsieur Lvque, we have to go.

All right. Gather my things.

By afternoon that day we could

finally see the first fortification.

Later, we were to see others,

bigger and better equipped.

But that one was ours;

t was there we waited, feet

firmly planted, for the French.

The English had recruited everyone from

round about to help fortify the lines.

All had left their homes,

smallholdings and families

to labour there in the sun,

rain and wind,

whatever God sent.

None complained.

Ti Miguel!

- That's my godfather, isn't it?

- It is.

He's still alive.

No!

No, thank you.

I'm going to buy some apples.

Five apples, please.

Thank you.

Maria de Jesus!

Vicente!

Maria de Jesus...

Praise God!

I looked for you everywhere.

I was so afraid!

I thought you'd...

...that something awful had happened.

Maria de Jesus! My dove!

I was so afraid you were dead.

I am dead to you, Vicente.

Let me go.

It's better you don't ask why.

Believe me. Let me go, Vicente.

Pretend I'm dead.

Forget me.

No!

What are you saying?

You can't...

It's not possible!

Please, my angel!

For the love of God!

I've missed you so much, my love.

- Our house still stands.

- Let me go, leave me!

- Vicente! Let me go!

- She said let her go! Do you hear?

Leave him alone.

Don't hurt him. Don't, Alberto.

In this world

War is a butcher shop

And peace, a brothel

For one such as I

This world has no place

Signed:
Bordalo, poet.

Good luck, Lieutenant.

Goodbye.

Godfather!

Father! It's my godfather.

You made it, then?

Just about.

Had a close shave, in Buaco.

Sit down. Sup with us.

Afonso caught a rabbit this morning.

He caught me more like.

I was spinning in the wind

and he ran right into my hands.

A slice of bacon.

Some olives.

You needn't have.

And down below?

Not a stone left standing.

I even burnt the vines.

And the medlar.

It was older than me.

Cattle are all gone, too.

It's the same all over.

From Coimbra on down,

it's a desert.

The land will take time to heal.

"You do not know that there

formerly dwelt in your land"

"the fairest and noblest race of men

which ever lived,"

"and that you

and your whole city"

"are descended from a small seed

or remnant of them which survived."

"And this was unknown to you,

because, for many generations,"

"the survivors

of that destruction died..."

"...leaving no written word."

It's the third redoubt we've built,

Afonso and I.

We've been at it for over a year.

But I miss the land.

To see a cabbage grow...

the smell of the cattle.

What about you?

Would you rather do this,

or till the land?

I want to be like you.

- What? A soldier?

- Not as long as I draw breath.

I've paid my dues.

Miguel, do you know that bearded chap?

He's new.

Don't know his name.

He's not from these parts.

I feel I've seen him before,

don't know where.

It's time to get going.

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