Beside it the house itself burned steadily, flames licking out from the windows. On the coast the sun was already coming up, but the steep-sided valley remained in shadow lit only by the fires consuming the buildings. It was lighter on the ridge top, and Williams and Guadalupe found that they were no longer alone as Carlos and two more of the partisans scurried up to join them, crouching so that they stayed behind the crest. ‘You left this behind,’ the former surgeon said, handing Williams his sword. He had taken to wearing it even though it rested against his injured hip, forcing himself to accept the discomfort in his impatience to get well. During the feast he had unbuckled it to sit more at ease. ‘Thanks. I thought that I had lost it.’ He suspected that his pack with all his other possessions had either been looted or was burning away in the farmhouse. Carlos shrugged. ‘Not much of an armoury between us.’ One of the guerrilleros had a musket and the other a pistol in his belt.
