Jacqueline de Belleville Pt. 03

"This room is closed for a private meeting. Please come this way," she says, as she bustles us through a side door. We can hear the conversation resume as soon as we are out of sight.

We are taken to a small room with only four tables, each set in an alcove with curtains to provide privacy. It is the sort of setting for intimate dining, be it between two lovers or a clandestine business meeting.

"Do you require breakfast?" asks the serving girl once Julieta and I are seated.

"Yes please, a double helping for me," I reply, realising I haven't eaten more than a few biscuits since breakfast yesterday. "What about you, Julieta?"

Julieta gives me a disdainful look. Clearly it is not considered ladylike in these parts to have two helpings of breakfast. But Julieta is torn between propriety and hunger. Hunger wins. She nods, not quite bringing herself to answer verbally.

"You're strangers 'round here," says the big innkeeper, who has now left the men busy gorging themselves in the next room. "You got money?"

I pull out my small money bag and jingle it in front of him. In reality most of it is Portuguese coin with a few English and French copper coins as well. Not much, but enough to buy two breakfasts in Portugal ... but will it in Spain?

The innkeeper isn't satisfied with just a view of the bag. He wants to see the coins, and he isn't happy with what he sees. He looks to Julieta to see if she can offer anything better. She gives a winsome smile but says that she has no money on her.

"Perhaps you have not heard of the famous singing and dancing duo Julieta y Jacqueline," says Julieta once it becomes clear the innkeeper can't be bought with a pretty smile. "For the cost of two breakfasts ... double portions ... my sister and I shall sing and dance in your tavern tonight. We shall even go round the town this afternoon and announce our performance."

The innkeeper is a bit hesitant at first, but when Julieta unfastens her blouse and reveals her tits, the innkeeper is sold on the idea. He runs his hands over Julieta's tits before nodding to the serving girl. The girl scurries off to bring us breakfast.

"No tricks now, Jacqueline, nor you, Julieta. I expect you to keep your word or you'll regret it," says the innkeeper as he returns to the other room.

"That was well done, Julieta," I say. "How well can you sing and dance? We'll have to practise a routine after breakfast."

"Oh, I can sing a few hymns and dance a bit. The waltz, sarabande ... that sort of thing. I can also play the guitar. Will that do?"

I try not to let my disappointment show. I fear our audience here will demand something more lively than a few pious hymns and a gentle waltz. But first things first, breakfast is arriving.

I'm mopping up the remnants of my breakfast with my last piece of bread when Julieta repeats her earlier question.

"Why were you in Madrid looking for me?"

"I was asked by Sir Arthur Wellesley to get you out of Madrid and make sure you reach safety. It appears that he likes to look after his spies, particularly ones who give him valuable information which help him win battles. Rolica. Vimeiro. Talavera."

"I can look after myself," replies Julieta as though she resents the offer of a rescue. "I only help the English because they are my country's enemy's enemy. The sweet and adorable Jules Legrand was my ticket to France; and with luck, into the presence of Napoleon Bonaparte himself. And then I could kill the dictator. But Jules is dead ... killed by one of his own countrymen. I have sworn a blood oath not to rest until Spain is free of the French invaders, and the torture and death of my father, mother and brother are avenged."

Well, there's nothing like having a mission in life, even if it is likely to make it a short one. I sense there is more to the story of her family's death bottled up inside her which is driving her to the point of recklessness. But now is not the time to probe more deeply.

"What do you intend to do now that your Jules is dead?" I ask.

"Actually, I've no idea."

"Well I've nothing planned at the moment. I've got you out of Madrid, so my mission is complete. Mateo can arrange for Sir Arthur Wellesley to be informed. I've no desire to place myself back into the hands of the English. Perhaps France might be a good destination. But we've no money and not much in the way of belongings. Perhaps we can earn enough singing and dancing to keep us going until something turns up."

And so the soon-to-be-famous partnership of Julieta y Jacqueline is formed. Our first performance goes better than I expected. We manage to borrow a guitar, so I do a few dances and sing a few songs to Julieta's music. I suspect most of the audience don't understand the English words, but a catchy tune goes down well in any language. Julieta is the surprise hit though, singing a handful of patriotic ballads that find the right spot with our audience.

We repeat our routine at the same inn for a few nights before several of the men in the audience encourage us to take our act on a tour of the nearby towns and villages. Barely six weeks after we started, word of our act has spread across the entire region. As soon as we have enough money we purchase our own instruments and we each buy a flamenco dress; tight fitting, bright colours and lots of ruffles below the knee. My flamenco dancing may not be the best in the world, but there are few in the audience who don't applaud Jacqueline de Belleville dancing with a rose in her mouth.

For the next few weeks we move from town to town, gradually heading towards the northern coast of Spain. Our audiences get bigger and more patriotic in their fervour. At first I begin to worry the French will put an end to our act and march us both off to jail. But from what Mateo tells me the whole region is alight with rebellion, and the small French garrisons rarely venture outside of their hastily prepared defences. For the moment we are relatively safe, although Mateo still keeps a watchful eye out for French soldiers.

It is the patriotic songs that seem to draw the strongest reaction from our audiences, and I learn a few myself to help Julieta out. Soon cries of "Viva Julieta, Viva Jacqueline" are regularly heard as we sing and dance. To my surprise, before long I start hearing the cry at other times as well. It is as though it has become a rallying cry for the people of region.

Which, given the events further afield, is what brings us to the attention of the French secret police. I become aware of their interest when one of their agents turns up dead in the back yard of the inn where Julieta and I are performing. Mateo is the cause of the man's demise, and the incident warns us to be on our guard.

The recent news about the war is not good. The French are once again firmly in control of most of the major cities. The Spanish army has suffered a series of setbacks and what is left of it has retreated into southern Spain. Meanwhile the English are sheltering behind their fortifications around Lisbon.

I am gradually getting to know Julieta better, and she me. Sharing a bed with someone does that, particularly when we are both naked and busy satisfying each other's carnal desires. She still has her dark moods, when memories of her family's violent deaths haunt her. She rarely talks about what happened, and as try as I may, every time I broach the topic she quickly changes the subject.

I already knew that Julieta was adopted into a wealthy and important family. I didn't need her to tell me that. Her ability to speak Spanish, Portuguese, French and English with ease, points to schooling only the wealthy can afford to spend on their daughters. Her deportment and the way she talks to strangers shows her breeding. Julieta portrays a natural arrogance, no doubt gained through growing up in the firm belief you are superior to those around you. Only in bed does she show her wantonness that reveals the real Julieta behind her mask.

We don't lack for male company either. Mateo is only one of our four constant male companions as we tour the towns and villages. Diego, Tomas and Joaquin have joined Mateo as our self-appointed protectors, at least from the French patrols we come across from time to time. But they are not protectors of our virtue; far from it. Fortunately Julieta and I share the same relaxed attitude regarding sex. It is something to be enjoyed when the opportunity allows, but any man who thinks he can fuck us without our consent is signing his death warrant. The four of them happily fuck the pair of us for hours, and they even hold contests to see who gets to take which of our holes. Mateo and Joaquin like to fuck both my cunt and arse in tandem. It isn't the most comfortable position for sex but the sensation of both my holes being reamed at the same time is out of this world.

"Do you have a lover pining for your return, Jacqueline?" asks Tomas one day as we sit eating at a small wayside inn.

"No lovers," I sigh in reply. "Plenty of men ... and a woman or two ... might remember me fondly, but nobody I can call my own. How do you feel towards me? Am I just a good fuck, and another conquest to notch on your belt."

"You malign me, Jacqueline. Only a foolish man would leave such a pretty senorita unguarded in a foreign land. Do you not find me handsome and desirable?"

Tomas doesn't seem to mind me not answering his question as he takes my silence for an admission of my feelings towards him. We've enjoyed sex together on numerous occasions, but he likes privacy when we fuck, and we rarely get more than a few moments alone.

"And do you have a lover, Julieta?" probes Diego.

I know Diego is attracted to Julieta, and despite her mourning for Jules and her family, she hasn't rejected Diego's attentions. But she doesn't seem ready to go beyond the crude rutting type of sex at the moment. Not that Diego seems to mind. As long a Julieta keeps lifting her skirt for him every time the opportunity presents itself, then he seems to be content.

"I had a lover once ... Until the French hanged him to set an example to others of my town. Six men seized at random and strung up in the town square," she replies with passion.

"Then we must avenge him and his fellow martyrs," replies Diego with equal passion.

"But how?"

"By continuing to do what you are doing. The people of Spain are afraid and don't know what to do. Our own army is retreating and the English army is hopelessly out-numbered. Yet around us we have loyal men and plenty of guns. The mountains provide the perfect terrain to wage a guerrilla war. Even now, despite their numbers, the French stay within their fortifications and only dare to make the occasional patrol. We just need the support of the local people; some to fight, but most to hide us, and supply us with what we need. Your songs reach the hearts of the people, and give them hope."

For Diego that was a long speech, but Julieta is moved by his words. Our little act, created to keep us from starvation, has taken on a whole new meaning. For Julieta, she has reached a watershed; a chance to put the horrors of her recent past behind her and to move on with her life.

The next day we reach the city of Oviedo, the provincial capital of Asturia. We perform at a large inn in exchange for a meal. The food is basic but nourishing. We know that most of the food hereabouts is being carefully hidden and stored. There's a French army at Santander to the east of us, and if it comes foraging in this direction then they will seize all the food they can find and leave the population to starve.

As the evening progresses, Julieta and I are persuaded to give a short performance for the inn's patrons. As soon as we start, the inn starts to fill with townspeople. By the fourth song we've quite a crowd. Once again, the cry of "Viva Julieta! Viva Jacqueline" echoes around the room. Our performance goes on for longer than we intended. The crowd starts to thin out once we've finally finished our act. Suddenly Mateo tenses.

"French," Mateo whispers to the rest of us, indicating the four men sat at a nearby table.

We need no further warning. Like Julieta, I carry a small dagger hidden inside my clothes. Our protectors always carry a pistol tucked inside their shirts. As soon as everyone is ready Julieta and I stand up and go over to the other table, careful not to block our friends line of sight.

"Did you enjoy our performance, señores? Would you care to buy Jacqueline and I a drink?" asks Julieta.

The scowl on the men's faces suggests 'no' to both questions. We've obviously caught them off guard as they all look to each other for guidance. From the style of their clothes Mateo is almost certainly right in his assessment. But whether they mean us any harm remains to be seen. Finally one of them finds his voice.

"What would honest merchants find enjoyable in two trollops inciting the good people of this region to rebellion. A rebellion that has all but ruined our trade. Well it won't be for long. A French army is assembling in Santander and it will soon crush your little revolt. Then we will enjoy seeing your pretty little necks laid out on the guillotine."

He returns to his beer. The men with him do likewise. I guide Jacqueline back to our table before her fiery temper gets us into trouble.

"They say they're merchants, but their clothes don't fit properly. I'm picking they're deserters from someone's army, and they've stolen the clothes they are wearing. The man who spoke to Julieta is almost certainly French, but his companions may not be," I whisper.

"That's possible," says Mateo grimly. "There are stories circulating of an increasing number of deserters from all armies banding together in the mountains and terrorising the local villagers. Our guerrillas are having to fight these renegades more often than French soldiers."

"Do you know where these deserters are hiding?" asks Diego.

"They're all over the place; but there's a large group of about sixty or seventy at an abandoned village a few miles to the east; just off the main road to Santander," says Joaquin.

We leave the inn and Mateo and Diego escort Julieta and I back to our lodgings. It isn't far to our lodgings, and this is not the first time Mateo and Diego have escorted us home at night. On occasion they have stayed until morning. Perhaps it's the familiarity of the walk and the warm afterglow of our well received performance tonight which makes us careless. We don't notice the horsemen until it's too late. From out of a side street come six men charging straight for us. Before we can react Julieta and I are grabbed off our feet and we are each bundled across a horse. We try to struggle but are firmly held by our captors. I don't see what happens to Mateo or Diego but there are no shots nor any sound of fighting. Within seconds we are galloping down the road leading out of Oviedo.

Once out of Oviedo our captors slow down. There is no sound of alarm, and no pursuit. We ride for about five minutes before stopping so that the men can tie Julieta and I up with ropes and put sacks over our heads. They clearly don't want us to see where we are going. Even in the dark. We continue our uncomfortable journey lying across a horse's back for another forty minutes or so.

Chapter 9: Guardian Angel

When we finally stop we are thrown off the horses and roughly pushed into a building which smells like a barn. This could be the village Joaquin mentioned, or it could be somewhere else entirely. Our captors untie us and remove the sacks. We are thoroughly searched and our weapons are taken from us. Then of the men produces a length of chain and my right ankle and Julieta's left ankle are shackled to each other. The other end of the chain is then fastened to a stout post. We have enough freedom to move a short distance but not far enough to go outside of our new prison.

A couple of blankets are thrown in our general direction and the men leave the room without speaking to us. Wherever we are it must be high in the mountains as it is noticeably colder. Julieta and I take the blankets and find somewhere to settle. Neither of us can sleep and we huddle with the blankets around us to keep warm. As usual our hands start roaming over each other's body, but more for comfort than sexual arousal.

"What do you think they'll do with us?" asks Julieta later. "I mean after they've finished fucking us."

"Nothing good, I'll bet," I say as I try to work the lock on the shackles. Unfortunately the shackles are well made and the lock won't budge.

"I hope Diego and Mateo are alright," says Julieta.

"So do I. It was all so sudden and I didn't see what happened to them. What's more, they are the only ones who know that we've been taken. Otherwise we are on our own."

"But why kidnap us? What do these men hope to gain? No-one is going to pay a ransom for us."

I don't want to dwell on what a band of desperate men might do with two young women once they've slaked their lust, so I try to change the subject.

"We'll find out soon enough. As for a ransom, I thought you came from a wealthy family. Even if your parents are dead, you must have other relations who could raise a ransom?"

"There's my real father who might remember me, but I doubt he would blow the dust off his coffers to pay a ransom for me. My adopted father was what the English call the black sheep of the family. Unlike his brothers, my father took care of those who worked for him. He was a good man and didn't deserve to die like he did ... nor my mother ... nor my brother Emilio."

Julieta sinks into a silence and I can tell she is remembering her family. But unlike when I first met her, she doesn't dwell on the memory of their violent death for more than a minute.

"Did you know I spent two years at one of the finest schools for young ladies in Madrid?" asks Julieta suddenly. "I know how to host a dinner party and the correct seating arrangements when royalty and nobility come to dine. I can speak six languages fluently and hold simply conversations in three more. But how is that going to help us now? What use is all that training in a situation like this? I feel so ... worthless."

"Well I never went to school, and my only education comes from the brutal lessons of life. But a lot of what I've learned comes in useful at strange times and in strange ways. I believe the true measure of the worth of a person is in how much they are prepared to give of themselves. And from what I've seen of you, Julieta Raquel Maria Luisa Cortes de la Vina y Fernandez, you give all of yourself."

"Give, or have it taken? I don't feel there have been too many times I've been able to decide my own fate. Do you want me to tell you how I came to be a spy for the English? It's not a pretty story."

As sleep still eludes the pair of us, I nod and Julieta begins her story.

"For countless generations my adopted family has produced fine wines from their large vineyard in the province of La Mancha, not far from Madrid. When the French army entered Spain at the beginning of last year, none of us worried too much about it. After all, France and Spain were allies and the French were coming to overthrow a corrupt and despised government. But the people of Spain became divided when the French forced King Fernando to abdicate, and replace him on the Spanish throne with Napoleon's brother Joseph.

"Most of the wealthy supported the French, but the common people remained loyal to King Fernando. My father was one of those who spoke out against the French seizure of the Spanish throne. His brothers disowned him and started to plot against my father.

"Then came the peoples' uprising in May of last year. The French crushed it mercilessly; hundreds of Spanish citizens died in Madrid. Next thing we know, a company of French soldiers have surrounded our town. They accuse the whole town of being rebels, and the French take six men at random and hang them in the town square. One of them was the man who had won my heart. My father had already begun negotiating a marriage contract for me.