Send Me Safely Back Again (13 page)

‘I must thank you again, sir, for your most timely appearance,’ said Williams, brushing the dirt and grease from his hands.

‘Don’t mention it. Happy to be of service, and simply good luck that we were here.’

Williams doubted that it was luck, and suspected that the colonel had been looking for them. So had the French dragoons, for there seemed no other reason for such an immediate and determined attack. The other enemy soldiers they had encountered had always behaved with considerable caution. There was, after all, no obvious threat posed by a single carriage.

The French must have wanted either the lady herself or something she carried. Perhaps they were after the messages she bore, but Williams could not help thinking of Dobson’s suspicion that the carriage concealed something heavy. It had certainly been a bigger effort than he expected for the four of them to lift the wheel of so lightly constructed a vehicle.

‘I must say, sir, that it was a bold and gallant stroke to attack so many.’

‘Capital sport!’ After a moment Colonel Wilson chuckled to himself. ‘Reminds me of the time back in Flanders when a couple of squadrons of their chasseurs tried to snaffle a battery while most of our fellows were dismounted and resting their horses. Lord Paget, Willy Erskine, myself and a few other officers were the only ones on horseback so we flung ourselves at the Frenchies and laid about for all we were worth. Gave our light dragoons the chance to saddle up and we put the whole lot into the bag. Capital sport, Mr Williams, capital sport!

‘Audacity is the key. Never give them time to think or count how many you are. Just go bald-headed at the enemy and he will spring back “as one who has tread on an unseen snake amid the briars, when stepping firmly on the earth.”’

Williams felt the quote was familiar, and suddenly the rest of it came to him. ‘“And in sudden terror pulls back as it rises in anger and puffs out its purple neck.”’

‘“And so we charge and with serried arms flow around them”,’ added Sir Robert, delighting in the exchange. ‘I shall not claim the prowess of a son of Venus and his warriors for
myself and Corporal Gorman, but the outcome was just as satisfactory.’

Wickham and the lady were close enough to hear the conversation and now the major joined them, confident that any unbecoming labour was at an end. ‘Mr Williams and I had the honour of serving under Lord Paget at Sahagun last winter,’ he said, seizing the opportunity of parading any acquaintance with such a great man, and resenting his subordinate’s ready knowledge of the classics. ‘I was on General Paget’s staff. Mr Williams was there to act in the capacity of a translator.’ Wickham’s tone indicated the unimportance of such an unmilitary task. ‘Although in the event Lord Paget was too busy setting about the French to give much thought to communication!’

‘Ah, so you are familiar with modern languages as well as ancient, Mr Williams?’ asked the colonel with evident enthusiasm. ‘That is an excellent practice for a young officer.’

Williams’ honesty surfaced immediately. ‘I fear there was a wholly mistaken esteem for my skills. Since returning to Portugal, I have attempted some small study of the language, but confess that my success is limited.’

‘Your diligence does you credit, as does your modesty. Vanity and promotion of one’s own deeds are the most terrible of vices, and ensure that all too often the higher commands go to the braggarts rather than the men of true worth. Such is the world we live in.’

‘The Doña Margarita wonders when we shall be recommencing our journey, Sir Robert,’ said Wickham, relishing such a level of intimacy with two persons of title.

‘Of course, of course, we shall leave immediately. Mr Charles and Corporal Evans will be able to catch up with us as soon as their business is complete. We ought to move, just in case another stray patrol chances upon us. We will take you on and guide you to a far stronger escort waiting to take the lady the rest of the way.’

‘Escort, Sir Robert?’ asked Wickham.

‘Two companies of your own corps, under the command of
the estimable Captain Pringle. I spoke with him last night and suggested that he wait for you in a little village lying on the old coach route.’

That was splendid news, and Williams saw no point in commenting that Sir Robert had obviously been aware of their coming – and indeed a good deal more than he was choosing to tell.

‘Wickham my dear fellow, I feel it is best if you continue to travel in the carriage and attend to the comforts of La Doña Margarita. She is a fine and spirited lady, but given her situation the journey itself must be fatiguing, apart from the threat of the enemy.’

‘Of course, Sir Robert.’ Williams noticed something new in Wickham’s expression, which went beyond mere satisfaction at so comfortable an assignment. The Spanish aristocrat seemed more inclined to conversation than in the past, and perhaps this encouraged the major.

‘Mr Williams, we have saddled the spare horse with the Frenchman’s tack, so would you do me the honour of riding with us. An additional pair of eyes would not go amiss. I doubt that we shall have more trouble with the French, but one can never be sure.’

The carriage horses were tired, and now reduced to a team of four, but they kept to as fast a pace as possible, helped that the trend in the road was downwards. After two hours, they were joined by Captain Charles, a gunner officer with a boyish face and a nose left crooked by some childhood misadventure. He was followed a few minutes later by a ginger-haired rogue who proved to be Corporal Evans. He had an infantryman’s jacket with yellow facings and yet looked as comfortable on horseback as any cavalryman. He confirmed that no French were following. The two men seemed exhilarated by the recent skirmish, reflecting Sir Robert’s own light-hearted enthusiasm.

‘Charles is my adjutant,’ said the colonel, after the gunner and Williams were introduced to each other. ‘He helps me to run the
Legion. Without him I would no doubt forget to issue the men with musket balls to shoot or breeches to wear!’

‘I am sure you would manage, sir.’

‘Well, I do let you have some sport as well as making you slave away. Eh, James, better than manning some godforsaken fort on the windswept cliffs of Sussex?’

‘Undoubtedly, sir,’ replied Captain James Charles. ‘That was such a dull existence, without the slightest chance of action. With the Legion there is always such capital sport.’

Williams could not help noticing the officer using the same expression as his commander. When Sir Robert took a turn riding ahead to scout, the gunner was even more effusive.

‘The chief is a wonder. Do you know that with just one battalion of ours, a few dozen horsemen and the support of the local Spanish, we have kept General Lapisse and a whole French corps busy. We move fast, you see, and the chief will attack at any opportunity. Sometimes it’s just a handful of us, a troop of cavalry, a howitzer and a company of infantry, and we’ll pounce on their outposts. There’s usually more of them, but then they don’t know that, do they? So we charge in and overrun the piquets, and usually take every man. The shock of that is sufficient to make their regiment think thousands are attacking. Nine times out of ten they pull back, and we nibble at their heels like terriers. If they do choose to fight, then we will not give them the chance. It’s easier for our small numbers to escape.

‘For the last month we have led Lapisse a merry dance. Convinced him he had no chance of capturing Ciudad Rodrigo up north, and so the French broke the siege. The way things are going we may chase him out of the whole country. If only those damned fools in London and Lisbon would realise it and give the chief more men, we could keep the border secure and liberate half of Spain.’

‘I understand your corps is principally recruited from the Portuguese,’ asked Williams when the flow slackened.

‘The Legion? Have you heard of us?’

‘I confess little more than the name. The Lusitanian Legion is it not?’

‘The
Loyal
Lusitanian Legion,’ said Charles with heavy emphasis. ‘Show him your hat, lad.’ This was to the trumpeter, who dutifully took off his helmet and showed the plate to Williams. It bore the crest of Portugal and the letters L L L. ‘I suspect Bonaparte has one as well so we need the full title! Yes, like young Arturo here, almost all of the Legion is Portuguese.

‘When the French invaded, a number of officers and patriotic gentlemen found their way to London. As you might expect, they were without exception adventurous men, and they all wanted to fight against the invader.’

Williams wondered cynically whether it might have been easier to fight the invader if they had stayed in Portugal, but quickly dismissed the thought as unworthy. He knew that the Portuguese army had been in no state to mount a long resistance. ‘And Sir Robert was appointed to lead them?’ he said, lest his silence seem rude.

‘Quite so,’ continued the artillery officer happily. ‘Not sure whether he or the Portuguese ambassador came up with the splendid title of legion.’

‘It does have a ring to it, and such a marvellous heritage.’ Williams’ love of the classics ensured his enthusiasm was now wholly sincere.

‘The chief wants a well-balanced light corps of foot, horse and guns to move quickly, but strike with great precision and force. From the beginning there were a few British officers like myself to assist in the task, but most of the commissioned ranks and all of the soldiers are Portuguese. The recruits flooded in as soon as we arrived and with all the usual bloody-minded selfishness of politicians there weren’t enough supplies for them all.’

Williams nodded. The story was so familiar. ‘Yet clearly he has taken the field, and to great effect.’

‘Yes, in spite of those self-serving fools. Our first battalion is complete and has been active since the autumn. Between that
ruddy bishop and a German blackguard, only God knows what has happened to the second battalion.

‘Damned shame. If we had all the men we should the chief wouldn’t half be playing merry hell with the French. He still is, truth be told, but we could do so much more.’ The captain’s almost cherubic face seethed with frustration at such folly. He expanded on the theme at considerable length, and Williams could not help being relieved when Wilson returned and sent Charles and Corporal Evans off to patrol ahead of them.

‘No sign of the French,’ said Sir Robert. ‘I suspect that we have given them the slip for the moment. Or more likely they have learned caution and we must take advantage of the fact. If we can keep to this pace then I believe we shall reach your comrades not long after nightfall.’

‘That is good news, sir,’ said Williams, and meant it, although his heart sank at the thought of having to tell Pringle that their friend was either dead or a prisoner of the French.

‘The good captain told me that you ran into a storm after sailing from Corunna?’

Williams nodded. ‘I confess that I am not the best of sailors, and the ferocity of the weather and the waves overwhelmed me.’

‘Yes, I know. For reasons best known to himself old Father Neptune has conceived a great dislike for poor Sir RW. As soon as he glimpses me on a boat he unleashes his savage gales and flings me about every which way. Given sailors and their superstitions, it’s a wonder I haven’t been tipped overboard on some of the rougher nights!’

He changed the subject abruptly. ‘So you charged at Sahagun, Mr Williams?’

‘My horse did rather run away with me that morning.’ At the moment he was struggling to control the carriage horse, unused as it was to a saddle. The animal was continually shifting under him, tossing its head and threatening to surge away at a gallop. Williams clung on to the reins to keep a nominal control.

‘You are too modest, I am sure. It was a gallant action and I am proud of my old corps.’

‘You served in the Fifteenth, sir?’

‘Aye, till I transferred to the Twentieth. In my day we made almost as gallant a charge at Villers-en-Cauchies back in ’94. Did the French cavalry meet you at the halt? By the way, if I were you I would lengthen the reins and use less force. At the moment he’s fighting you every inch.’

Williams followed the advice, and the horse lurched into an awkward trot. He pulled back hard. For a moment the animal threw up its head and he had no control, but then it sullenly slowed back to a walk. Wilson suspected that the rider’s nervousness was communicating itself to the mount and making him skittish. Yet for all his evident inexperience as a horseman, Sir Robert liked the young ensign, with his open face and remarkable bashfulness, but most of all for his impression of confidence and ability as a soldier.

‘Yes, the French waited and fired volleys as we approached. I could not understand why. Surely impetus is the great strength of the cavalryman.’ Wilson liked the ensign’s lack of bluster.

‘It is indeed, as long as order is retained. Once the enemy break then a regiment will split up in the chase. We went eight miles or more in Flanders. My horse and most of the others were lathered in sweat. I have rarely felt so elated and weary at the same instant. One of our farriers killed twenty-two Frenchmen by himself.’

Williams had an image of an axe dripping blood, then realised that was absurd for the man must surely have used his sabre.

‘You never saw such slaughter,’ continued Sir Robert. ‘Well, of course you probably have, for your corps was in the thick of things in Portugal, was it not?’

‘I was commissioned there,’ said Williams, for there was something about the colonel’s enthusiasm which made him ready to speak. ‘I was also at Medellín, and saw the French slaughter the Spanish.’