by Lynn Bryant
"Cheer up, Colonel," Campbell said. "You might not be aware of it but there's still a French force occupying the Retiro, we may need to storm it to get them out."
"Another dinner watching Sanchez looking down my wife's dress, Colin, and I might find that quite appealing. Why don't we get the Spanish to kick the remaining French out, give them something to do?"
Campbell laughed. "Get going, Colonel, he won't want you to be late," he said.
"He wouldn't care if I didn't turn up at all. Come on, girl of my heart. Let's go and find something not too revealing for you to wear this evening."
He wheeled his horse and looked back as Anne smiled kindly at Campbell and Alten both of whom looked slightly nonplussed. "Please convey our thanks to Lord Wellington," she said. "Tell him we should be delighted to dine with him this evening. We'll be with you as soon as possible."
"Thank you, ma'am," Campbell said. Anne joined her husband.
"Your company manners get worse and worse," she said.
"I think they're fairly consistent," Paul said. "Are you sure I'm well enough to dine with his lordship? I'm in a lot of pain."
Anne gave him the full benefit of her most ferocious scowl. "It is a pity you didn't think of that before leaving Salamanca," she said frostily. "I believe it is this way."
Chapter Nine
Joseph Bonaparte, Napoleon's elder brother, had been made King of Spain after the departure of the Spanish ruling family four years earlier. Both Napoleon and Joseph seemed to have underestimated the amount of opposition that the appointment would meet with. Bonaparte had successfully appointed Joseph King of Naples in 1806 and other family members as rulers in Holland in 1806 and Westphalia in 1807 and it seemed to have surprised him that his appointment in Spain had met with such fierce resistance.
The Spanish had risen up in rebellion in 1808, causing Joseph and the French high command to flee Madrid for Vitoria. Much of Spain was abandoned for a time and French policy in Spain hardened. Joseph reorganised the government and adopted a program of reform which included the abolition of the Inquisition, the end of feudal rights, the reduction of religious communities and the abolition of internal customs charges along with the introduction of measures to modernise trade, agriculture and finance. Paul, whose Spanish was fairly good now, had read about the changes in several government sponsored news pamphlets. He found it ironic that on a personal level he actually approved of a lot of the changes that Joseph had introduced although he disagreed with Bonaparte's right to impose them by force.
As the popular revolt against Joseph Bonaparte spread, many who had initially co-operated with the French deserted them, but there were still many Spanish, known as afrancesados, who saw the arrival of Bonaparte as an opportunity to reform and modernise Spain and who supported his government. Most of these had fled with Joseph as Wellington's men marched into Madrid. Paul did not blame them. There was no danger of reprisals from the Anglo-Portuguese army but he suspected that the temper of the citizens of Madrid after four years of French rule could not be trusted. The Marina family was one of these, leaving their graceful country palace to the mercy of the invading troops and Paul thought that should they return, they could be grateful that the 110th had commandeered it for his headquarters; it would have been wrecked in a day had the ordinary soldiers broken in.
Paul attempted to conceal his relief on arriving at the palace to find his room prepared and hot water ready, but he knew that Anne would realise how tired he was. The Marina Palace was enormous, a baroque masterpiece with tiled floors and more space than Paul's brigade had ever occupied before. Paul and Anne descended into chaos as the officers baggage and boxes were unloaded into the vast marble hallway and the quartermasters stood at the centre with hastily scribbled plans of rooms to be allocated.
"It's like Bedlam," Anne said. "Thank heavens for Lord Wellington's invitation; I can leave it to everybody else, and by tomorrow it will be organised, George will be in charge of the kitchens and I will be left with nothing to do."
"I'm sure you'll find something," Paul said.
"As a matter of fact, I already have," Anne said. "Lord Wellington captured Marshal Marmont's main hospital in Valladolid two weeks ago, but there is a substantial hospital here, in one of the convents, and I am informed that the conditions are appalling. With our own wounded being very well cared for in Salamanca, I thought I might see if I can improve things."
Paul glanced at her with pride and amusement. His young wife's determination to play an active role in army affairs had long since ceased to surprise him, but every now and again it struck him anew how remarkable she was. He had no doubt that the French wounded would not be languishing in filthy wards with inadequate treatment for long once Anne became involved. She had a genius for getting the staff on her side, and although in the early days of her work on the wards, many of the elder surgeons had protested at her being allowed to continue, these days such protests were rare.
"We seem to have a carriage, bonny lass," he said, spotting Lord Wellington's coachman. "I'm surprisingly glad of it."
"He probably thought you would find an excuse not to go if he didn't send somebody for you," Anne said, serenely, lifting the skirt of her muslin gown out of the dust. "Are you sure you're well enough to do this, Paul? I could get one of the others to escort me."
"No, I'm fine. I feel better for a rest."
The drive through the streets of the Spanish capital was magical. As darkness began to fall, the streets were brilliantly lit and thronged with people. British officers were everywhere, many of them with Spanish ladies already on their arms and local businesses, including the numerous lemonade shops as well as the inns and taverns, were inviting the liberators inside, waving aside all thought of payment. Paul's brigade was occupying the palace in solitary splendour while the rest of the light division had the locals fighting over the privilege of providing accommodation for them.
There was music on every street, spilling out of well-lit houses and taverns or sometimes played openly on the roadside, with impromptu dance displays attracting small crowds of officers from both British and Portuguese regiments to the music of guitars and the clicking of castanets.Paul held his wife's hand, watching her face as much as the entertainment outside, as the carriage made slow progress between the glorious buildings of the Spanish capital.
"Oh, it's so lovely," Anne breathed.
"It is," Paul admitted. "I'm glad I was here for this."
Anne looked around with a quick smile. "So am I. And you seem very well, so perhaps I am not going to be cross with Lord Wellington any more."
"Or me."
"Oh love, you know I'm not. Is this it? What a spectacular palace. Although I always find, when visiting a new city, that I have a crick in my neck for days, trying to take it all in. I hope it is not to be all politics this evening, I would rather like just to enjoy it."
"Let's do that then," Paul said, helping her down from the carriage. "I have decided to set aside my well-known dislike of these affairs and be charming to everybody. Do you think I can keep it up?"
"You can if you try," Anne said, taking his arm. "Goodness, look at some of these gowns; I am terribly under-dressed. I should have worn my black lace."
"You look like a queen," Paul said softly. "I love that mantilla on you. Come on, Wellington is waving at us."
The evening retained its enchanted quality, ending at midnight with a spectacular firework display which the guests watched from the balconies of the palace. Paul stood with Anne in front of him, his arms about her. She leaned back against him and Paul held her and allowed himself a moment of sheer enjoyment. When the last sparkling shower had fallen from the sky, Anne turned to smile at him and Paul kissed her very gently, and adjusted the lace about her shoulders.
"Let's go and find your cloak, bonny lass."
"Colonel van Daan."
Paul turned and saluted his chief. Wellington was looking unusually mellow. He kissed Anne's hand. "Did you enjoy yoursel
f, ma'am?"
"Oh, so much. I know there is a lot of work to be done, sir, but it was lovely just to celebrate for an evening. And so beautifully. Thank you for inviting us."
"You are very welcome, ma'am. And I am sorry that I must allow business to intrude for a moment. Colonel, you will probably have heard that the French have not all left Madrid."
"Yes, sir, General Alten has been telling me about it. Around two thousand men in the Retiro, I understand."
"Indeed. My sources tell me that they have cannon. I cannot imagine they will turn them on the city, but after my recent experiences in Salamanca, I am not wasting time on them. You may have detachments from the third and seventh divisions and use whatever you wish of your own brigade. Get them out of there, preferably without too many casualties."
"Yes, sir," Paul said, saluting. It was a purely instinctive response but as soon as he had made it, he felt Anne's entire body stiffen at his side. He could feel himself flinching internally, having literally no idea what she was about to say to his chief. He did not even dare to turn and look at her.
There was a frozen moment of silence. Into it, his chief said hastily:
"Or Colonel Wheeler can lead them, of course, if your wound is not fully healed. I will leave that to your discretion, Colonel."
Paul gave a splutter of laughter; he could not help himself. The expression on Wellington's face told him that he had just been in receipt of one of Anne's most appalling glares. "It's all right, sir, I'm fit enough," he said, putting his arm about Anne. "It's not as if you're asking me to handle a forced march."
"No. But you may be sure that if it appeared convenient to his Lordship, he would not hesitate," Anne said frostily.
"Ma'am, I can assure you..."
"Oh do not think of it again, my Lord. Look at his face, he is completely delighted. Men!" Anne said, in tones of disgust.
***
Marching out, King Joseph had taken his guard and the train of afrancesados with him but had left a garrison of 2000 men in the fortified Retiro palace. They had enough cannon to do Madrid considerable damage and Lord Wellington was determined to remove the danger as quickly as possible. Madrid was still going wild with celebrations on the following evening, as Paul assembled his men in one of the quieter squares. Even so, the columns of men were initially mobbed by the jubilant Spaniards, who seemed under the impression that this was a parade for their entertainment. Paul ordered the 110th light company to clear the square of spectators, and Sergeant Hammond's men cheerfully began to escort the civilians back behind makeshift barricades while Paul surveyed his troops. Wellington had given him six hundred men from the third and seventh divisions and Paul had added the light and second companies of the 110th, the light company of the 112th and the first and second companies of the 115th.
Paul wondered about Wellington's motives for giving him this command. He was not the obvious choice; he was recovering from a wound, and there were many capable commanders in both the third and the seventh divisions. He found himself wondering if Wellington was making a point. There had been no questions asked about the skirmish at Alba de Tormes; Wellington had made a good deal of the unexpected departure of the Spanish troops and Paul had not heard even a whisper of criticism of his own leadership but he was very conscious of what Wellington had not said. He knew, and Wellington knew, that he ought to have been aware of the retreat of the Spanish and got his men out of danger before the retreating French army reached them. He knew, because he was not especially modest, that his performance during the ensuing fight had been exemplary. He also knew they should not have been there.
Over the previous few years, Paul was aware that he had been seen as overly favoured by the commander-in-chief. It had become less of an issue recently; younger men were rising through the ranks and gossip had a short lifespan in the army, but Paul knew that a man's reputation was only as good as his last battle. He knew that his chief's affection for him was both real and lasting and if there had been any snide remarks about Paul's actions at Alba de Tormes, Wellington was very capable of giving him this command to demonstrate his continuing faith in Paul's abilities. It was the reason Paul had not handed it on to Johnny. Like Wellington, he had a point to make.
Looking out over the assembled troops, Paul was surprised to see the willowy form of Lieutenant Simon Carlyon at the head of one of the companies from the seventh. He made his way through the men and Carlyon saluted at his approach.
"Mr Carlyon. It's very good to see you, although I'm confused."
"Sorry, sir. I thought General Pakenham had informed you. He asked me to take temporary command of the third company of the 94th while the captain is injured. We're hoping he'll be back soon."
"No, he didn't," Paul said. "Probably because he knows I could have done with you here. I'm told you distinguished yourself in the battle, lad."
"I'm told you captured an eagle, sir."
"Which my wife threatened to stab me with; she was not impressed. It's good to see you, Simon. We've no time now, but when this nonsense is over, come up for dinner tomorrow evening, we're missing you."
"Thank you, sir. I'd like to."
The French defences consisted of a fortified area on the Retiro heights to the east of the city. It was protected by two lines of defences, and a star fort. King Joseph had left General Lafon-Blaniac, the governor of La Mancha, to defend the city with 2000 men. Paul wondered if Joseph had thought that the fortress might be able to hold out as the forts at Salamanca had, in the hope that Soult might be able to reach the city in time. Studying the defences, Paul thought it had been an unrealistic hope. The Retiro had nothing like the defensive capability of the Salamanca forts.
The outer line consisted of the existing wall of the Retiro Park with loopholes cut into it and some supporting positions, the strongest of which were the Retiro Palace and the Prado museum. The inner defences were stronger, with ten bastions, but were more like field works than proper fortifications. The star fort, which was built around the old royal porcelain factory, was the strongest part of the entire works.
The French had left outposts at the Prado, the Botanical Gardens and the walls of the Retiro Park itself. Dividing his men into three sections, as soon as it was dark, Paul sent in half his force to attack from the north and the rest from the south-west.
They were met by a hail of musket fire which did no damage; it was impossible to aim in the dark, and the French outposts fell back quickly under his steady advance without serious resistance. Paul gained the strong impression that there was little conviction among the defenders. Having gained the Royal park, he halted his men behind a series of long walls close to the forts and sent the Chasseurs Brittanique from the seventh division to make a breach large enough to take his men through. The breaching attracted a steady fire from the French through the night. The rest of Paul's men settled to rest behind the walls; some even managed to sleep.
Paul did not sleep. His healing shoulder was painful, the muscles cramping in the cold and making him restless. He lay wakeful, deliberately not thinking about the pain. He had survived several worse injuries and he knew that the pain would ease eventually. Part of him, the logical part, mocked himself for his folly in putting himself through this when he could have handed the command to Johnny Wheeler. Wellington would not have thought ill of him and he could have been sleeping warmly at Anne's side.
A scream of pain broke through Paul's uneasy rest and he sat up, looking around. The sound had come from the lines of the 51st. A barrage of insults rained down on the head of the offender. Paul got up, stretching his stiff limbs, cautiously keeping low behind the wall. Something about that scream sounded real.
"Are you all right, sir?" Captain Manson said, sitting up.
"Yes. I'm just going to see what that was, Leo."
"I'll go. You should rest."
"I'm not resting." Paul smiled at his junior through the darkness. "My shoulder feels as though it's being bayoneted all over again. And if you tell m
y wife that, Captain, your career is over."
He heard Manson laugh softly as he slipped silently through his resting men and over towards the 51st where there was a scuffle of sound.
"Hooker, what's wrong with you? You're bloody dreaming, pipe down."
"I'm not dreaming," a voice said. "I've been shot."
"You haven't been shot, you've got bloody cramp. Shift your arse and shut up, will you?"
"I've been shot, I tell you."
"Officer in the lines," a voice said, and there was a move to rise.
"Stay where you are," Paul said quickly. "Colonel van Daan and I don't need a parade, I need to know what the racket's about."
"It's Tom Hooker, sir. Got a cramp in his leg, and he thinks..."
"It's not a cramp," a new voice said urgently. "There's blood everywhere here, he's been hit."
There was a scuffle of movement as the men surrounding the hapless Private Hooker shifted to look. Paul scrambled over the men and crouched down to where a young soldier in was bending over Hooker, his hand clamped to his leg.
"It's his thigh, sir. Bleeding badly."
Paul swore softly, feeling for the wound in the dark. It was hard to believe that in the sporadic and inaccurate musket fire, a stray shot had managed to hit a man, but it had clearly happened. "What's your name, Private?"
"Wheeler, sir."
"All right, Private Wheeler, I'm going to twist this scarf around his leg and I need you to hold it for me. Keep it tight, it'll help stop the bleeding. Private Hooker, can you hear me?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hold on. I know it bloody hurts, I was hit there myself back at Assaye, years ago. We'll get you out of here in a minute. Is there...?"
"Sir?"
Paul peered through the darkness. "Is that you, Smithy?"
"Yes, sir. Sergeant Hammond sent me over to see if you needed help."
"We need to get this lad out of here, he's hurt. Can you run up to the town and get some sort of transport for him? My wife is setting up the regimental hospital in a riding school next to the palace, Dr Daniels will probably be there."