Sir Robert looked grim for a moment, and then smiled. ‘A dreadful day, but I have no doubt Don Gregorio will dust himself down and rise again. He’s a tough old bird. Your commission is
the first step of many, I am sure. Villers-en-Cauchies got me my knighthood, or did you think me some scion of ancient lineage?’ He laughed out loud, and continued before an answer could be given. ‘There is something pure and very right in a title won by battle. We were under Austrian command that day, so, believe it or not, you are looking at a Knight of the Order of Maria Theresa and Baron of the Holy Roman Emperor. There is something fine in being a modern crusader. Although I dare say Boney would claim the title has lapsed now that he has dissolved the Holy Roman Empire. Damned cheek.’
‘The truest form of nobility is surely the reward for courage,’ said the ensign with obvious sincerity.
‘I am proud of the honour, but doubt that our own country will copy such an example. Just imagine if the Lords was filled only by the heroes of our nation.’ Wilson shook his head. ‘Instead I fear we blame our heroes. It is truly shameful how ministers now condemn Sir John Moore for their own failure to support him.’
‘He was a great man,’ said Williams with a note almost of awe in his voice.
‘Your regiment served in his last campaign.’ Sir Robert caught something in the voice, and was curious. ‘Did you meet him?’
‘Yes, I was beside him when he received his mortal wound, and waited and watched with the others during his final hours.’ Reluctantly, and with considerable encouragement and cajoling from the colonel, Williams told the story. It seemed more like an age than little more than three months ago.
‘A great man, and a great loss. His was a clear mind, who knew that this war could only be won in Spain. Portugal cannot be defended. Its border is too long, its fortresses too few and easy to pass. It is in Spain that we must beat the French, and we must beat them by attacking, always attacking.
‘My Legion is merely the start. With more men and more regiments we could hound the French from dawn till dusk!’ Williams was reminded of Charles’s recent passion.
‘Can a light corps achieve so much, sir?’ Williams asked with genuine interest.
‘Even on its own it can achieve a great deal. Is that not the lesson from America, where the Yankees showed us how it was done? We could win battles and yet lost the war. They controlled the country. Our outposts, our foragers and our sympathisers were always at risk of attack. The only way to challenge such partisans was with fast-moving and well-led bodies of horse and light foot. Numbers mattered less than speed.
‘I have ridden with the Turks and the Cossacks. It is an ancient way of fighting, and we can learn much from them. Boldness is what matters, as I believe I said to you some hours ago.’ Sir Robert chuckled. ‘I fear I have been up on my hobby horse once again. You have shown commendable patience in listening with such courtesy.’
‘You are too kind in your judgement, for I have listened in fascination. Indeed, I believe the speed of your campaign has readily overcome any chance of my disagreeing.’
Sir Robert laughed.
‘May I ask where the main body of the Legion is at the moment?’ asked Williams.
‘Moving fast, I trust, and waiting for the right moment to harry Lapisse. We have been occupying his corps and now they have grown tired of our hospitality. Do you know we captured nearly a thousand of them last week? The prisoners should be on their way to Ciudad Rodrigo by now.
‘Once I have seen La Doña Margarita safely to her escort I shall ride to join them. I am only out so far to spy out the land. Knowledge, Mr Williams, knowledge. That is what a commander most needs, and often the best way is to see with his own eyes.’
‘Are we to escort the lady farther, sir? There remains the question of our own orders.’
‘Your famous shells? All gone, I am happy to say. They were taken to Ciudad Rodrigo and my own Colonel Mayne dealt with them. They were the wrong calibre for the Spanish guns, so
he blew the lot up. So now that you are unoccupied you can perform a task for me, and for our allies.’
‘An honour, sir,’ said Williams, for there was no real choice.
The last hour passed with little talk, but without any alarm. The land seemed empty. Houses had their shutters tightly closed and it was not until they reached the bottom of the valley and looked up to see the village that they spotted silhouettes in the fading light. There were soldiers forming a piquet beside the road. Captain Charles rode forward to hail them.
As they passed up the track Williams felt at home to see the familiar uniforms of his regiment, and faces he knew. They went between the first houses of the village itself, and Williams saw Pringle – plump, reassuring Pringle with his round glasses and ready smile. He saluted and exchanged courtesies with Sir Robert and Captain Charles, before grinning at Williams.
‘So you have been off wandering again, my friend. And leading poor Hanley astray. Where is he, by the way?’
H
anley’s forehead throbbed. His eyes did not want to open and when they did it was hard to focus. The light was white and piercingly bright. His tongue felt rough and so swollen that it pressed against the inside of his mouth, rubbing over teeth which felt as if they were clogged with great lumps of food.
With his right hand he managed to push aside the sheet covering his face and saw the open window and the dark timbers of the roof of the room. He blinked in the bright sunlight. His hand ran across his face and chin and felt the wiry stubble of two days or more.
Hanley was not a heavy drinker. Billy Pringle and most of his fellow officers soaked the stuff up like sponges, but Hanley was content to soften the hard edges of the world rather than wash them away altogether.
He could not remember where he was. He was hungry and oh so very thirsty.
‘I need a drink,’ he said as the door opened.
‘Senõr?’ It was a woman’s voice.
His thoughts trudged wearily up a long slope until he found the Spanish words. ‘I need a drink.’
There were footsteps and the door closed. Hanley felt that he had done enough work for the moment and lay there. A year may have passed before the door opened again.
‘Well, I see you have returned to us after all,’ drawled Espinosa. A maid came over to the bed and offered him a cup of water. Hanley drank with difficulty, dribbling down his chin.
‘Behold the highest form of creation,’ muttered Espinosa.
Hanley took the maid’s wrist, making her gasp. He stared at her for a moment. She was scarcely more than a child, her brown eyes nervous. ‘I do not remember you,’ he said. Then he smiled. ‘But thank you for your kindness.’ He let her go. The girl gave a faint smile in return, but was obviously still frightened of the strange foreigner. She left the room, leaving behind a tray with a bowl of soup.
‘Have something to eat and then get dressed,’ said Espinosa. ‘You have lain in sloth for too long. The barber is on his way. When he has finished I shall come back and then we can talk.’
Hanley forced himself to sit up, and swung his legs down from the bed. He looked around the room. Dim memories were coming back of Lasalle and his officers, and of the blonde.
‘I cannot see my uniform,’ he said, noticing only a brown suit draped over the back of a chair.
‘Burned,’ said Espinosa. ‘You were very ill indeed and your jacket and breeches were sorely stained when you spewed up the contents of your stomach. It was simply not worth trying to save those rags.’
‘I do not remember.’
‘On balance, I imagine that is just as well.’
‘How long have I been asleep?’ Hanley asked.
‘Two days, so you should feel well rested. Now eat. We shall talk when I return.’
By the early afternoon they were on the road. Espinosa returned as promised, but although they spoke for half an hour Hanley had learned very little. He had fallen ill two nights ago. First he had sunk into the deepest of sleeps, and a little later woken and purged himself for the first of several times. Lasalle and the column could not wait for one sick prisoner and pressed on.
Hanley still had his own well-worn and comfortable boots, but was now clad in a black shirt, brown jacket and breeches after the Castilian style, and a tall round hat, with a wider brim than the top hats beginning to be worn by the beaus in England. At his waist was a long scarlet sash. His sword belt ran over the
sash, for there was nothing out of place in a Spanish gentleman carrying a blade. Espinosa similarly kept his sword and had a pistol in his belt, although he had changed his uniform for a black civilian suit.
‘There is no need to attract unnecessary attention,’ he said, although since they were accompanied by two hussars in the brown and sky blue of the Chamborant, that hope seemed futile. Both men rode horses suspected of lameness, and so had stayed at the inn in the hope that rest would permit a recovery. They were wary of pushing the animals too far, and Espinosa clearly found this frustrating.
‘There is no need for you to stay with us, Guindet,’ he said to the older of the two hussars.
‘Orders, sir,’ came the reply. Hanley began to wonder who was being guarded. He could sense that neither Guindet nor the youngster with him relished the idea of being out on their own.
Espinosa said little as they rode. They saw no other French soldiers and scarcely any civilians. By nightfall they reached a farm overlooking the road, and with Espinosa’s authority demanded rooms. The farmer had grey hair and skin the texture of leather. He did not seem especially impressed by the name of the King, but the two soldiers were enough to convince him to comply. He was relieved that they wanted so little, as since the start of the year passing soldiers had slaughtered and eaten a quarter of his pigs.
‘Worse than that,’ he told Hanley later in the night after they had shared the family’s stew. ‘One lot burned the shafts of my spades and hoes for firewood. Can you dream of such folly? Where is a man supposed to buy new tools in these times?’
They rode on the next morning, and after an hour passed a march company of convalescents going the other way as they returned to their regiments with Marshal Victor’s main body at Merida. The lieutenant in charge said that they had had trouble with peasants firing at them as they passed.
‘We caught one, but the rest of the scoundrels fled,’ he said with contempt. ‘Be careful when you pass that way.’
At noon they saw a corpse hanging from the branch of an old dead tree.
‘The one the lieutenant caught,’ said Espinosa without any particular emotion.
A few hours later they dismounted and let the horses drink from a pond. On either side of the road were walled vineyards. There were a few farms, a small chapel on a hillside, but most of the people evidently lived in the village they could see about two miles away.
Espinosa seemed on edge, and started up when Hanley accidentally brushed against his sleeve.
‘I am sorry,’ said the Englishman, more than a little surprised at the reaction.
The Spaniard said nothing, and then there was a shot and a ball flew over their heads. Hanley spun around and saw a puff of smoke from the corner of one of the vineyards, and glimpsed movement behind it. Another deep-throated boom and a musket ball flicked up a plume of dust in the dirt beside them.
The hussars quickly sprang back into the saddle.
‘Catch them!’ yelled Espinosa. Guindet gave him a glance, but then the two men were off, pounding along the path to the open archway of the walled yard. Sabres drawn, the hussars sped through the entrance, and they heard cries from beyond.
Espinosa grasped Hanley by the shoulders.
‘There is not much time. Inside the lining of your sash you will find an envelope sewn into the material. It bears a list of all the regiments in Marshal Victor’s army, and their strengths, as well as the numbers and station of the regiments under King Joseph’s direct command. The numbers for the other corps are much older, and their positions have no doubt changed considerably. One thing I do know is that Marshal Soult has already attacked Portugal from the north. He will have Oporto by now, and perhaps be farther south.
‘There, you have just heard something King Joseph himself will not learn for another day or two. This is all I have had time to prepare. Better information will come at greater expense.
‘Take it to your own superiors. Either to Lisbon if you go due west or if you go more to the north then to your Colonel Wilson, who patrols the border. There will be more. If someone comes to you and speaks a certain word, then you will know that they speak for me and can reach me.’
There was a shot from behind the high wall, and then a scream.
‘Why?’ asked Hanley.
‘Does it matter? There is food for four or five days in the saddlebags and a map.’
‘Then what is the word your men will say?’
Espinosa smiled. ‘Mapi.’
That was like the man to choose something personal, intimate and, in the circumstances, somewhat cruel.
‘Now, hit me and go.’
Hanley looked blank.
‘It must look as if you took me unawares and escaped. So you must . . .’
Hanley put all his weight behind the blow, slamming his right fist under Espinosa’s chin, so that the man’s head snapped back. Hanley was not a violent man. Even as a soldier he had rarely raised his hand against the enemy. Yet he was big, and had been confused and angered enough in the last week or more to relish the opportunity of venting some of his rage.