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his forces. I shall expect reports from you on those within the week."
    “And my regiment, sir?"
    “Will just have to do without you."
    “Very good, sir.” Mark turned to go, hoping that his frustration and disappointment did not show. But, he told himself bitterly, it was highly unlikely they would, for it was his ability to conceal his emotions and assume a variety of almost impenetrable disguises that had gotten him this job in the first place. Before the duke had taken advantage of his services, these disguises had mostly been adopted to hoodwink jealous husbands. It was not until Mark had been captured by the French and managed to escape by disguising himself as a Spanish mule-driver that his skill, coupled with his flawless Spanish, had drawn him to Wellington's attention.
    The duke had not been surprised by the young officer's reluctance for reconnaissance missions. “It does rather seem like spying, sir,” was all that Lord Mark had said when the duke first approached him with the idea, but that was all he had needed to say.
    “Perhaps. And every young man joins the cavalry to lead a victorious charge against the enemy, but cavalry charges and the like can be a disastrous waste of time and lives if one does not know what one is charging into,” the duke had replied, not unkindly. “But with your dark complexion and the Spanish you learned from your mother, in addition to the quick-wittedness and skill you demonstrated in deceiving the French, you are worth a hundred gallant cavalry officers to me, and far more difficult to find among those serving under my command."
    So, reluctantly, Mark had agreed to become one of Wellington's trusted exploring officers, and along with Sir John Waters and Colquhoun Grant, had regularly fed Wellington with reports on terrain, troop movements, and enemy fortifications.
    “I shall ride out tomorrow, sir, to see what I can learn about the French positions around Pamplona and discover what I can about Soult's most recent movements."
    “Good. What I also need is an accurate report on the roads. On a map a goat track can look like a main road and if we can force the French to travel on goat tracks while we march on roads, so much the better. That means a very thorough reconnaissance on your part, but I have every confidence in you. Not only do you speak Spanish, but you look like the Basques, who are some of the most infernally proud and independent people it has ever been my pleasure to meet. But if you win their trust, by God, then the Pyrenees are practically ours. Soult cannot afford to march around these mountains forever. The most he can hope to carry with him is a few days’ rations and then he will have to go back to Bayonne to feed his army. The more we wear him out by forcing him to march over difficult terrain, the better it is for us. Now go to it, lad."
    “Yes, sir.” Though he had a cavalry officer's natural distaste for an activity as devious as spying, and though all the tenets of his aristocratic heritage made him long to confront the enemy in a fair and open fight where honor was the chief ingredient. Mark recognized the accuracy of his superior's thinking. Distasteful as his role of exploring officer might be to him, he had to accept the fact that Arthur Wellesley, who had enjoyed the same aristocratic upbringing as he had, deemed his role and this mission important to the success of the British forces in the Peninsula. So he was left to console himself with the belief that honor lay in carrying out his general's orders to the best of his ability, whether it meant charging at the enemy head-on or ferreting out his weaknesses, using deception and disguise.

Chapter 4
     
    Thus it was that several days later, as Sophia was painting the rugged landscape that rose on both sides of the Bidassoa River, she was greeted in a friendly fashion by a Basque shepherd driving his flock before him. “Buenos dias, Senorita.” The man touched his forehead in a respectful