They both stared at her in surprise.
Schwarzenberg’s advance on Paris started well with the Austrian army advancing as far as Fontainebleau and Wittgenstein’s Russians advancing beyond the road Bond had intended to take the week before. Then Napoleon left the northern theatre and force-marched through Paris to fall upon the unsuspecting troops with a larger army than anyone had thought he could muster.
By next morning, Bond and a troop of Cossacks from the Jaroslav Cossack Regiment were scouting south of the road to Troyes to determine how far the French Chasseurs-a-Cheval had extended the French front. They had to enter each new village with care in case they should ride into an ambush. All they knew was that there had been French cavalry ahead of them when Napoleon’s Guard Cavalry had cut off General of Infantry Gyulai’s Third Corps in the retreat.
Bond was lucky that the Otaman of this kurin, roughly translated as lieutenant of a troop, spoke passable French. He had never been able to converse with any of the Otamans he had met when Count Rostov was with him.
They had agreed to keep riding east until they found a significant body of the Austrian forces who had not been involved in the retreat. That would send them along the road to Bar-Sur-Seine. Good Lord! That was where he had settled the Countess and her family.
During that day he began to have an appreciation for the way the Cossacks determined their actions. No higher officer had given them instructions where to go, or which direction, or how far. They organised themselves according to the situation as they read it. He had brought the only instructions; a request by a colonel of brigade who wanted to know if there were French cavalry ahead of him. That brigade had long been left miles behind.
Twice they had exchanged fire with French cavalry who seemed to be advancing along a route to the south. They received no serious casualties, and it looked to Bond that neither had they inflicted any on the enemy. It was as if each unit was in a race to the east and only fired on the enemy if they should seem to be getting too close.
It was sundown when they came over a rise and found a column of infantry marching toward them. Not knowing if they were French, they halted.
“What unit would that be, Officer Englishman?” the Otaman said.
Bond hadn’t the slightest idea. He did notice that the officer at the head of the column had also ordered a halt. They would be standing here forever if he didn’t pretend to know. “These are probably from the Bavarian Corps. Field Marshal von Wrede’s infantry brigades were supposed to be on this road.”
“Would the Officer Englishman go to speak with them?” the Otaman said with a smile.
Bond sighed. Right, go and see if your guess was correct. They would have all ridden down to speak with the officer if he was not here to be the mug. “Very well. How far do you suppose we are from Bar-sur-Seine?”
“An hour’s ride.”
“I should send these infantry back there to guard the bridge.”
The Otaman nodded at him, and so did a few of his men, now sitting their mounts beside them. None of them spoke.
He deigned not to ask for a trooper or two to accompany him and just jabbed his boots into his mount’s sides and galloped down the hill.
A few words with the officer and they were all safe. “This is the forward company of the Archduke Rudolf Infantry Regiment,” the officer said.
“Did nobody advise you that Napoleon is advancing in strength and Field Marshal Schwarzenberg’s army is retreating?” Bond said.
The officer stared. “We have seen no one from our headquarters all day.”
“I have come from the other side of Sens today with these Cossacks. We have been in action with French cavalry who pace us from the south.”
The officer called his juniors to his side. “We would be foolish to proceed with French cavalry so close.”
“Should we camp here, Captain?” one of the lads asked.
He looked undecided. Without new orders he was lost.
“How long a march is Bar-sur-Seine behind you?” Bond asked.
“An hour, or an hour and a half.”
“With Napoleon’s army coming, it would be best for you to go back and hold the bridge over the Seine until Field Marshal von Wrede can be apprised of the situation.”
They discussed this and then the captain pulled his moustaches and said, “Yes, but I have no orders.”
“But in this situation the Field Marshal will be pleased at your initiative,” Bond said.
This took a lot more discussion. The Cossacks came down the hill and sat their horses to one side as they watched. “I can support your movement with these cavalry,” Bond said. “But if you delay we must proceed at a gallop to prevent the French cavalry from arriving before us.”
The thought that they might lose the cavalry support did the trick. The captain ordered his sergeants to turn the column and they were on the march to the village.
Entering Bar-sur-Seine in the twilight from this road gave Bond a much greater impression of the late medieval castle that had once stood on the high ground behind the river crossing. That was when the rulers of Burgundy had been rivals and enemies of the French kings. All the village possessed from those times was an impressive entry gate and the ruins on the hill, and he supposed, the two bridges across the river.
He dismissed his Cossacks to find themselves some billets and to post a piquet on the road they had used to warn of any arriving soldiers in the night. He went to the small alms-house beside the hospital where he had left the Countess and her children and knocked on the door. Armand opened the door with the horse pistol in his hands.
“Who is it?” he heard the Countess say.
“It is Bond, My Lady,” Bond answered. “The army of the Austrians has been withdrawing since yesterday.”
She came to the door and looked out past him. “Are we in danger here, My Lord?”
He entered as Armand and the Countess locked and barred the door behind him. “I think we are safe even if the French get this far. I brought a kurin of Cossacks and a Bavarian Infantry company with me—enough men to hold a village.”
“I thought you said we would be in Paris in a few more days,” she said.
“Hmm. So did Schwarzenberg. I tell you what we should do if there is any action tonight. Armand should prepare to take you all across the bridge in the cart. There could be fighting on this side but even if they take the bridge they are unlikely to go further in the dark.”
The Countess looked concerned. Her son poked his head up from the pallet with a much more eager expression. “Can I have the sabre to defend us?”
“No, you cannot,” she said. “Go to sleep.”
Bond winked at Hugh-Frederik and pretended to close his eyes as if sleeping. “I will have to stay with the troops—well, they have effectively become my troops—as they regard me as the senior officer here. But I will let you take my horse across to use should you need to go further.”
The Countess put a hand to his colonel’s epaulets and cocked her head. “You stole these?”
“As good as,” he said. “I have never served in the army, but Lord Liverpool wanted me to have some senior rank to give me access to the army commanders. The only service I have rank in is the Navy . . . when I was a thirteen-year-old midshipman during the last invasion scare.”
She smiled broadly. “And what command did you have in that exalted rank?”
Bond looked into her laughing eyes and could not help but follow them. “I did have command over a captured French fishing boat once. Brought it into Dartmouth and then went aground on the rocks.”
“I trust you will do better with Bar-sur-Seine,” she said gleefully.
“Most certainly. Nothing will happen here tonight.”
He had hardly uttered the words when the sound of musketry came from nearby.
Agnes, who had been quietly packing their things, let out a scream. “Mon Dieu, it is the Corsican!”
“Oh damn,” Bond said. He took the Countess’ arm.
“Pack up and take the bridge to Bar-sur-Aube. I will not need the horse in this village so you must ride him.”
The Countess shook her head. “Only after I have seen you do not need him.”
“I have no time to argue,” Bond said, wondering why he always seemed to attract headstrong women. “I must go immediately to organise the soldiery.”
The musketry had come from the Cossack’s piquet a couple of hundred yards down the road. The Otaman came back from visiting them and found Bond and the infantry captain parcelling out the soldiers to guard each road entering the village.
“What did they fire at?” Bond asked.
“Those same French Chasseurs-a-Cheval,” the Otaman said. “They pulled back when my boys fired on them, but they did not go far. There are the sounds of marching infantry in the distance.”
“It seems they have been ordered to take the bridge,” Bond said to both officers. “I will post the Cossacks as reserve, holding the bridge. Prepare to burn the damned thing if the infantry cannot hold. We must prevent it becoming a route the Corsican might use to outflank Schwarzenberg at Troyes.”
“Very well, My Lord,” the captain said. He was a lot more decisive if he had someone to give him orders.
When he left to check his soldiers, Bond spoke with the Otaman. “Did you go up the hill to the ruins of the chateau?”
“Not yet, Lord Englishman.”
“You might see what kind of defence it would be if these infantry must retreat across the bridge. Also, look for brushwood your men can cut on the hillside to set the bridges afire.”
“Very well, Lord Englishman. Shall I stop the townspeople from crossing the bridge?”
Bond hoped the Countess had already taken her people across. “No, but check who crosses. We do not want the Corsican sending armed men behind the petticoats of the fleeing townspeople.”
The sound of the French drums came from the distance, sounding the advance of an infantry force. Bond rushed to the town gateway to encourage his Bavarians.
The captain was there already. “I do not see how the French may attack in the dark,” he said. “They must not know we have a force in place to defend it.”
“I hope you are right, Captain. If they are surprised, one good volley should send them packing.”
Nothing happened for the longest time, the infantry drums went silent, even Bond’s nerves were at breaking point. Then the sounds of horse-harness came to them.
“That will be our Cossack piquet retiring,” Bond said. “Do not fire on them.”
The riders came out of the darkness and stopped to point behind them, gesture frantically, and offer advice in Russian.
“Unfortunately I do not speak Russian,” Bond said. “But I would suppose from their excitement the French are close behind them.”
Another long drawn out period of silence ensued, before Bond could hear the sounds of army boots on the gravel. He looked at the Captain, who nodded in response and raised his sword.
From the road a whistle sounded. The Captain brought down his sword.
“Feur!”
The Bavarians’ volley split the darkness. Shouts and screams confirmed their shots had found targets. The sound of running feet predominated . . . growing fainter as they ran away. Then, only the groans, screams, and terrified curses of the wounded came through the darkness.
Bond was elated and appalled at the same time. The stink of blood came to him on the light night airs. The Captain returned from inspecting his men. “I have ordered them to stay on alert with their muskets primed. Should we do something about these wounded . . . ? My men are new to war, and dying enemies will discomfit them as much as their own.”
“Let the French make the first move,” Bond said. “If they ask for a parlay we will agree to it. We should ask for a cease-fire for the night. We may need our rest for what the morning may bring.”
It took half an hour before the sound of a single horse came down the road. The unseen cavalryman stopped. “Vous les vous une parlay?”
Bond made his way out between the fallen wounded. “Who wishes a cease-fire? We may give leave for you to send a few unarmed men to collect your fallen.”
“The Grenadiers will move back two kilometres if they may have their dead and wounded,” the man on horseback said. “Will you agree to no musketry until daylight?”
“Our muskets will stay primed, but we will not fire if the grenadiers do not approach.”
“Agreed. We will send ten men to take the fallen.”
Bond returned to the Captain and told him what they had agreed. “I would think your men may sleep at their posts, but sentries must patrol in pairs. I will go to the Cossacks at the bridge and tell them what we are doing.”
As Bond walked back through the town he saw his horse was still tied at the alms-house. He returned there when he had spoken to the Otaman. When he rapped on the door, Countess Marie-Sophie opened it to him, holding a lantern with the wick turned down.
“Why are you still here, My Lady?”
“I told you I would not take the horse until I had definite knowledge you did not need him tonight. What has happened? There was a great deal of firing . . .”
“There was one volley and the French ran. We have made a cease-fire. It is quite safe for you to cross the bridge now.”
“If it is quite safe, I do not need to leave the dwelling,” she said, moving closer to lay her head on his shoulder.
“I must caution you, My Lady,” he said, a thrill starting in his belly.
“Oh, you are so chivalrous. You do not need to be,” she said, her hands on his waistband. “I am not . . .”
He closed her mouth with his own and kissed her as he pulled her down onto the nearest pallet. He pulled open her chemise and took her breasts in his hands.
Chapter Forty-two
Favourable Roads
Before the Antiochus was able to claim the outer estuary of the Westerschelde as an English Sea, Roberta had insisted they return to Chatham for a day or so to correct some mechanical issues revealed by a week at sea. Once they went back to the Schelde they would not receive another chance until the Duke of Wellington’s army had taken Brussels; he had stipulated the steam warships were needed to protect his flank during the advance.
After a night of repair work with her own artificers and the Stephenson workmen left in the dockyard, she had a few hours of sleep before going into town in the company of Captain Worthington to visit Medusa’s wounded. After all this time very few remained, either their injuries and blood poisoning had carried them off or they had beaten the odds and walked out to finish their recovery elsewhere.
They were surprised but very pleased to find Captain Bell living in lodgings with his son and daughter. He had not quite walked off Medusa as he had vowed but the stumps they had carried him off with had healed, and he was able to get around on some kind of wheeled chair.
“They make these in the town,” he told them. “I was able to get employment there for my one-armed carpenter from Medusa.”
“How fine,” Roberta exclaimed. “And is Annie with him?”
“Yes, she is, and she comes here every second day to help my daughter with me.” He smiled. “I have to be hauled out of the water to be careened regularly to keep my stumps healthy. She does go about the town helping others who are still berthed here.”
“I should like to see her,” Roberta said, “but we have too little time. Antiochus must leave on the evening tide.”
“Well, do not fret, My Lady, we are doing well and expect to be here when next you anchor. I have knowledge of a score of survivors from Medusa, and we keep our comradeship close to our hearts as we help one another. The ships of the northern blockade have taken up a collection for those seamen who need it, I understand, so we may lack for nothing until we are afloat again. All is well, the war is all but over, we hear. Only that French ironclad and its master the Corsican are not accounted for.”
“No, Captain, it has eluded us,” Wor
thington said, “but we will chase it into its den when we return.”
Roberta and Captain Worthington walked back to the dockyard discussing what was to be done before they slipped moorings. Roberta felt more comfortable with him for every day they worked together, and she never feared for a moment that he would forget his scrupulous manner and formality about her person when they were alone in their duties. She actually feared that she might fail to be extra vigilant herself.
They did not utter one word concerning the relationship that was developing between them but it was the unspoken counterpoint to their every breath. The eventual decision of the Bishop’s court seemed like the glacier that gradually crept from the mountainside to threaten a village, barely moving to the sight but with the power of the whole mountain pent up within it.
If a marriage was determined by the church to last an eternity in the eyes of the Lord then the dissolution of the same seemed intent on rivalling that in months if not in eons.
During the week since Bond had held the village of Bar-sur-Seine, Schwarzenberg had cautiously advanced to the positions he had lost in the rout. With even more care than previously, he had closed every loophole that might give Napoleon, who had gone north again, a chance to repeat the same surprise. Anticipation filled every heart in the army, but it seemed the opportune moment had determined to elude them.
Lord Bond and Count Rostov had travelled miles with the Cossacks, accounting for every battalion and squadron of the enemy known to be in the locality. The allied armies and the French were now skirmishing and manoeuvring within sight of Paris―always careful not to give the other the chance to strike a fatal blow, but maintaining enough pressure that the possibility remained present for themselves.
Now—this very afternoon—Lord Bond and Count Rostov galloped their lathered horses down a road from Fontainebleau that the Cossacks had discovered to be left only weakly defended.
Reaching their own lines, they drew rein at a barrier across the road, guarded by almost half a company of Russian grenadiers.
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