The Scottish infantry colonel interrupted my thoughts by muttering, ‘The bastards left their men in an exposed line for cavalry to slaughter. They deserve to be shot.’
‘The Central Junta has put some of the cavalry commanders in front of a firing squad for cowardice sir.’ D’Urban said quietly.
‘Good thing too,’ muttered Downie, but even he looked shaken at how easily the Spanish had been defeated.
‘How many were killed?’ asked Wellesley.
‘The Spanish lost eight thousand men killed or injured sir, with another two thousand taken prisoner. They also lost most of their cannon. French killed and wounded were less than a thousand.’
‘And this was the army that was supposed to block any advance on Lisbon while we advanced to attack Soult in the north,’ grumbled Wellesley. ‘A detachment of army wives armed with camp kettles and skillets would give more protection.’
‘There is still the Loyal Lusitanian Legion, Sir Arthur,’ said General Craddock, the Lisbon commander. He did not seem to notice a couple of the staff officers wince as the name was mentioned and turn to look at Wellesley, whose face clenched in icy disdain. ‘They only have twelve hundred men,’ continued the hapless Craddock, ‘but with some Spanish forces they have been holding off twelve thousand French at Almeida for the last few months. We might have had to evacuate Lisbon without them.’
‘The Loyal Lusitanian Legion,’ barked Wellesley with a sneer, ‘is only loyal to its commander, and Sir Robert Wilson is no friend of mine.’ I looked up at that for I knew Sir Robert, but a slight shake of the head from Campbell and the venom in Wellesley’s voice warned me not to admit the association. ‘I would rather have the army wives guarding my flank,’ growled Wellesley, before calling the meeting to a close.
Most of the officers took this first opportunity to explore the town and I was joined by Campbell who had organised some soldiers as escort to keep the local beggars and hawkers at a distance. It was strange to be back in uniform again and getting admiring glances from the few half decent looking women on the streets. This time I had a proper captain’s commission confirmed by Horseguards in the 31st Regiment of foot. I was only nominally attached to that unit as a staff officer and was excused all regimental duties. With the comradeship amongst the staff it was a bit like rejoining a family as there were several familiar faces, like Campbell, from my Indian days. While I was new to others my reputation for being a cool hand, ill gained though it was, earned me respect. My only memento from those earlier times was my sword, which I had captured, mostly due to luck, from an Arab soldier in India. It was a beautiful thing and while I had been forced to sell the precious stones from the hilt, for various sentimental reasons I could not bring myself to sell the sword itself. It was at my hip then as we strode through the streets and if we had thought that the Black Horse Square was full of poverty and dirt, we soon found that this was in fact one of the smarter parts of the town.
While some officers went to the local taverns and others piled into a whore house that from the outside looked as clean as a Turkish sewer, Campbell wanted to visit a church. It was not my cup of tea but I tagged along as we followed the directions he had been given, The city had been completely destroyed by a massive earthquake and tidal wave fifty years before so most of the buildings were new, although often built of old stone. Here and there were still some ruins or half repaired dwellings, but the church when we found it, was from the outside quite impressive. Inside was a different story; all the ornate decoration had been looted, even the wood furniture had been stolen for firewood, the place was virtually bare apart from a stone altar and a wooden cross.
‘Hell’s bells,’ groaned Campbell looking around. ‘I thought Calvinist kirks were depressing places to worship in, but they are positively flamboyant compared to this.’
‘It could certainly learn a lot from Indian temples for decoration,’ I agreed. There was an archway that had previously housed a door long since torn off its hinges, and beyond it a staircase leading up to one of the church towers. We headed up to see the sights and emerged on a rooftop with panoramic views over the city.
‘I take it you know Wilson then,’ Campbell said as we stood alone together looking over the rooftops to the countryside beyond.
‘Yes, I went on a diplomatic mission to Russia with him a couple of years ago. I found him a pleasant and resourceful man, but evidently Wellesley does not agree. What is this Loyal Lusitanian Legion?’
‘It is a private army that Sir Robert set up a year ago in London from the émigrés who fled there from Portugal after the French invaded. They joined the first British expedition to Portugal and were supplemented with British officers who trained the men.’
‘Why didn’t they evacuate with the rest of the British army at Corunna?’ I asked.
‘They spent time training and when they tried to join the British army they were cut off by the French. The British officers were told that they could abandon their men and disembark at Lisbon, but they bravely chose to stay with them.’
‘Quite right too,’ I agreed, remembering the Spanish abandoning their men, but thinking I would have been on the first boat home.
‘They decided to hold up in the fortress at Almeida with around twelve hundred men, but they managed to convince both the French and the Spanish that they had ten times that number. Over six thousand Spanish troops, thinking that there was a large British trained force to support them, gathered and garrisoned the nearby town of Ciudad Rodrigo. The two fortresses guarded passes that led to Portugal and Lisbon. Between them they stopped an army of ten thousand French invading the south of the country.’
‘So why does Wellesley hate them?’ I asked.
‘When the Loyal Lusitanian Legion arrived in Portugal, one of their first duties was to oversee the evacuation of the French troops with their loot. Understandably the Portuguese soldiers took it badly and Sir Robert wrote to his influential friends in London complaining about the generals, including Wellesley, who had agreed to the terms.’
‘I see. I can imagine that Wellesley would not take kindly to one of his officers complaining over his head.’
‘That’s the other thing – Sir Robert has never seen himself as under the command of the British army. He has styled himself as a major general and sees himself as Wellesley’s equal even though he only has a fraction of the men. He even wrote to Sir Arthur before we embarked with some suggestions for the coming campaign. You can guess how well that was received.’ I could; Wellesley must have choked on that advice like a cat with a fur ball. We stood in silence for a few minutes looking at the view; two more ships, one a fast message sloop, were coming up the river. Around the town loomed green hills that looked benign now, but if captured by the French they would make holding the city impossible.
‘Do you think that we will be able to stay in Portugal this time?’ I asked, voicing the thought that had been on everyone’s mind since we had heard about the Spanish defeat.
‘Not if we just stay here,’ stated Campbell. ‘The French will gather their armies together and destroy us. Sir Arthur has to move and fast to attack their armies one by one. Soult is the obvious first target, he is nearest.’
‘But he has more men, mostly veterans, unless you count the Portuguese and they are not trained yet.’
‘The French might be veterans but morale in their army is low. They have been cut off from other French forces for months now, living off what they can find in the countryside around them, with foraging parties regularly being attacked by guerrillas.’ He paused now, staring out into the countryside as though assessing how he would attack it. Then he added quietly, ‘I don't mind telling you, Flashman, that I think it will be hot work. If we win it will be a close run thing and men like us will have to show an example to some of the less experienced officers.’
I looked across at him then. His blue eyes were still staring at the fields and with his broad shoulders, lantern jaw and curly blond hair he looked the epitome
of the heroic officer. He was the genuine article too. While my reputation was based on lies, misunderstandings and situations where I had no choice; he had charged into breaches like Dick Champion, fought to save fallen comrades and had probably flipped a coin to poor Willie the orphan boy on the way home. When men like him start to get anxious then it is time for us lesser mortals to make sure that they have a fast horse to hand and a clean escape route planned. With that in mind I was looking down and counting the ships in the harbour when I heard more footsteps coming up the stairs behind us.
Two young women stepped through the archway, both respectably dressed but from the worldly way they ran their eyes over us, they were professional women for certain and by far the prettiest I had seen since we docked. Campbell did not even look round at them. His mind was clearly still on the battles ahead as he said, ‘It is good to have someone who will not think I am croaking to talk to, Flashman. We are both the same; I was reminded of that on the way out when you took fifteen guineas off me in that card game during the storm. Everyone looked nervous apart from Sir Arthur and you.’
‘I was surprised you gave me the money so easily,’ I said grinning.
‘I can’t swim,’ he replied, ‘drowning is the one thing that frightens me.’
‘The one thing...’ I repeated in dismay at this brave dolt who thought we were the same. Before I could say more there was a giggle from the two girls who had gone to stand on the opposite side of the tower looking at the town.
Campbell seemed to notice them for the first time. ‘I say Flash,’ he said, indicating across to them, ‘You don’t think that they are...’ He paused and started to blush before continuing, ‘That kind of women.’
Hullo, thinks I, have we found the heel of this Achilles? ‘No,’ I replied. ‘They look perfectly respectable to me. This is probably a popular spot for young ladies to take the air.’
‘Yes, quite so,’ he agreed, but still looked decidedly uncomfortable.
‘Are you married now?’ I asked, having a suspicion I already knew the answer.
‘No, there was a woman three years ago, but not since then.’ He gave an embarrassed grin, ‘I wasn’t joking about the Calvinist upbringing, it is hard to shake off.’
‘You mean you have not been with any woman since then?’ I asked, appalled.
‘No, not one.’
I was genuinely speechless. This strapping hero could have had any women he wanted and he had forgone them all for three years. I may not be a Calvinist but I could see where my Christian duty lay. ‘Do you speak Spanish or Portuguese?’ I asked innocently.
‘Not beyond the basics,’ he replied, ‘I have never had the time.’
‘I am fluent in Spanish,’ I told him. ‘I had better introduce us to the ladies. I am sure it is what they would expect a gentleman to do.’
‘If you are sure,’ he said, going red again. ‘I'll stay here.’
I stepped across the tower to do the finest service I have ever done for a brother officer. Campbell evidently did not understand much Spanish or he would have picked up on the astonished gasps of ‘tres años!’, and been more suspicious of the sympathetic and downright lustful glances they cast in his direction. I explained that he was shy and would never go into a knocking shop and would need to be suddenly brought to the boil in case his Christian principles got in the way. It was soon evident that I was dealing with experts in their field. In exchange for the fifteen guineas that I had won from Campbell during the storm, they offered a respectable house we could use and a guarantee that we would both have a night that we would never forget.
‘They have invited us to take afternoon tea with them,’ I told Campbell when I returned. ‘They are sisters and their parents’ house is nearby. As Wellesley does not want us to offend the locals I thought we should accept.’
‘If you are sure,’ said Campbell, going red again at the thought of it. While the two girls had come up the stairs quite easily, they now claimed that they needed assistance to descend and one linked arms with me while the other grabbed a startled Campbell. On close inspection they were both beauties, flawless complexions of the milkiest coffee, lustrous dark hair and hazel eyes with more than a hint of mischief. The girl held by Campbell affected to stumble twice on the way down forcing him to catch her. He was sweating with repressed lust and confusion by the time we reached the bottom. It took all my self-control to keep a straight face as he asked, ‘I say Flashman, are you sure we should be doing this?’
I reassured him and a few minutes later we were sitting in the front room of a very well furnished house making polite conversation with one of the ‘sisters’ while the other ostensibly organised tea. The second sister returned a few minutes later followed by a girl in a maid’s uniform carrying a tray of tea things. One glance told you that the girl was no more a maid than I was. She was blonde for a start, a rare thing in Portugal, another stunner and with a wanton look in her eye that latched straight on to Campbell, whose jaw had started to sag at the sight of her. The second sister winked at me and whispered that it was time for us to leave.
‘My companion just wants to show me a portrait of her mother,’ I told Campbell over my shoulder, but I was not sure he was paying attention. Once out of the room, my girl closed the door and turned the key in the lock.
‘We would not want him escaping too soon would we?’ she said with a grin, but it was soon evident that escape was the last thing on Campbell’s mind.
After a sudden exclamation of, ‘Oh you are pros...’ there was giggling from the girls and then, ‘Oh God’ repeatedly from Campbell, accompanied by the sound of breaking crockery. We listened for a few seconds but then I felt fingers undoing buttons and in a moment I found that I had literally placed myself in the hands of a skilled professional who drew me away upstairs.
Fifteen guineas will buy you a lot in Portugal, and we stayed there for the rest of the afternoon and the night. I recall steak and eggs arriving at one point along with bottles of red wine, but it was hard to enjoy a peaceful repast with the ardent noises coming up from below. With the girls giggling and Campbell yelling, they seemed to be making up for three years in one night. I swear he was howling in Gaelic at one point and another time I heard him roar to one of the girls that he was going to bend her over and ... Well what he shouted was not for sensitive ears, but suffice it to say that it would have made John Calvin choke on his beard.
Chapter 5
I woke up the next morning feeling well pleased with myself. A good rattle always leaves me in fine fettle. I left the house early and as I passed the ground floor room I tried the door. It was now unlocked and the interior looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane. There was a tray and a pile of broken crockery in the corner, half eaten plates of food and bottles on the floor, and in the middle of the room was a mound covered by rugs and a blanket. From it protruded a male foot and two female calves of different complexions, while a loud snoring emanated from within. Saint Flashy I thought, your duty is done.
I strolled back to the palatial building that Wellesley was now using as his headquarters. Apart from sentries, few people seemed to be about, so I went up to the map room where Wellesley had given us a briefing the previous day. At first I thought it was empty but then a familiar voice barked from a corner of the room by the window, ‘Ah Flashman, perfect timing. You haven’t seen Campbell in your travels have you?’
‘I have not spoken to him since yesterday sir,’ I answered honestly, if not fully. Wellesley was sitting in his usual plain blue coat at a small table by the window, reading through a pile of despatches.
‘Well help yourself to coffee and join me over here will you, there is something that we need to talk about.’ Once I had settled in the chair opposite the table he continued, ‘You ought to know that I have had a despatch about you from Horseguards.’
‘Really,’ I said guardedly; I sensed from the tone that this was not good news.
‘Yes, that damnable fellow Tasker seems to think you
are involved in the Clarke affair somehow. He uses the duke’s name to require me to advise him of anything to support his suspicions. It is a gross impertinence.
‘That is ridiculous sir, I can assure you...’ but Wellesley waved my protests aside.
‘Don’t worry. I have no doubt as to your innocence. You are not the only one, there are three other names on the list and I am sure that they are innocent too. But Horseguards seems determined to get to the bottom of the matter. They have insisted that I take Sir William Erskine onto my staff as he is close to certain members of the court. He is to be an unofficial investigator and I am ordered to give him every assistance. Do you know the man? No? Well he is a dangerous and volatile fellow, completely mad.’
‘Mad sir?’ I asked, puzzled.
‘Oh, I do not use the term figuratively Flashman, I mean literally mad. He has been committed to an asylum twice already, but apparently that does not stop him serving as a Member of Parliament or as an officer on my staff. I complained about the appointment before we left and I got the reply on a fast messenger sloop that arrived yesterday. Here, let me find it.’ He burrowed around amongst the despatches on his desk before holding one up triumphantly. ‘Here it is, listen to this – they say that ‘he is sometimes a little mad, but in his lucid intervals he is an uncommonly clever fellow’. Then a clerk has added at the bottom of this letter that ‘the duke trusts he will have no fit during the campaign, although he looked a little wild as he embarked’.’ He sat back shaking his head in despair. ‘First my Spanish allies show that they are incapable of any sensible action and now I have lunatics appointed to my staff.’
‘Perhaps you could appoint Erskine to Cuesta’s staff sir, it probably could not make things worse.’
Flashman in the Peninsula Page 5