A Despite of Hornets

by Geoffrey Watson

  CHAPTER 6

  The dragoons must have been an advance party, scouting way ahead of the army, as the countryside between Burgos and Madrid was free of troops of any nationality. They made an easy journey, arriving in Madrid on the third day. Ominously, there was already a covering of snow in the passes of the Sierra de Guadarrama, the range of mountains, which acted as a natural barrier and defence for Madrid in the north.

  Closer to the city there was a great deal of activity. Volunteers were toiling, digging trenches, and squads of men were drilling on any available open space. Weapons and clothing, as they had come to expect, were an odd miscellany. Generally though, they seemed to be of slightly better quality than in either of the two armies that they had so far encountered.

  Some of the professional soldiers they passed recognised the shabraques and furniture on the horses and challenged them, but their suspicions were quickly abated on presentation of their laisser-passer and they were directed to the residence where the British Minister, Mr. Hookham Frere had installed himself.

  Frere was a man of great influence, a boyhood friend of the Foreign Secretary. He had been in Spain before in an official capacity and was said to be charming, witty, intelligent and very emotional. Welbeloved was shown in to see him and found the latter quality certainly true. Frere took one look at the tall but drably dressed figure and exploded. “What’s this then sir? I was told to expect a Captain Welbeloved of the Royal Navy, not some Spanish peasant. Who are you sir and what is your business?”

  Welbeloved had been walking forward to greet him and stopped in his tracks. He gazed back at Frere coldly and calmly. “My name is indeed Welbeloved,” he drawled, “and I would hazard that the rest of yor information is correct. I am also a captain in the Royal Navy.”

  Frere became even more agitated. “My God, a Colonial as well! This is not what I was led to believe. They were supposed to be providing a military escort. I suppose sir, you’ll be telling me that you have a squadron of hussars or a company of marines outside?”

  Welbeloved relaxed and smiled with genuine humour. “Well now Minister, my lads destroyed a squadron of French dragoons on the way from Santander. As we now have all their horses and equipment, I reckon that makes us the next best thing to these hussars yew are goin’ on about. As they also captured a French brig-of-war before we landed, I expect that qualifies them as marines. As for yor obvious prejudice against Americans, I have to say that I and my father fought for King George in the war, but I can quite understand why my ex-countrymen would wish to manage their own affairs if they had administrators like yew to contend with.”

  Frere was silent. His colour had gone from scarlet to white. Whether this was a sign that he was now in control of himself, or in the next stage of fury, Welbeloved could only guess, but he took advantage of the silence to continue. “My orders sir, are to escort two people and their luggage to England. It now seems to me that for reasons of yor own, yew wish to obstruct me and I don’t think their Lordships would be sympathetic if I allowed that to happen. I will bid yew goodday sir.” He picked up his hat and made for the door.

  Frere may have been intolerant, but he was a political animal and knew when to move his ground. The person he had taken for a domesticated hound had yawned insolently and shown large, wolf-like fangs. He moved to intercept. “Captain Welbeloved! I er-think I may have been a little hasty. I am surrounded by fools and your er-unconventional attire led me to believe you to be other than you are. Please take a seat sir and give me whatever intelligence you have about the armies to the north. You mentioned something about French dragoons I think?”

  Welbeloved allowed himself to be led back and seated. He knew he had made an enemy, but with further prompting, gave a curtailed account of the fight with the dragoons. Frere’s eyes lit up when he described the way the peasants had hunted and killed the remains of the squadron. “There you are then. That confirms my view that the Spanish are a brave people, and that their armies will defeat any French sent against them. All they need is the support of the British army to keep the French off balance while they gather together sufficient force to destroy them.”

  As an exercise in self-delusion it seemed to Welbeloved to be in a class of its own. He realised his mouth was hanging open and closed it abruptly. It was Frere’s emotions talking. He desperately wanted the Spanish to confirm his belief in their bravery and capacity for beating the French, and had shut his mind to any other possibility.

  Welbeloved tried again. “On my way here Minister, I came through the armies of the Juntas of Estramadura and Galicia, as well as observing the forces preparing for the defence of Madrid. Yew may take it as my professional opinion that none of them will stand up to more than the first volley and the charge of the first column of French infantry that they meet. They are just a mass of ill-equipped, poorly clothed peasants, who may be as brave as lions as individuals, but who have no confidence in their own bravery as an army, and no discipline firm enough to keep them together.”

  He could see Frere’s colour rising again and realised his words were having little effect other than to rekindle his anger. The man was furious as he burst out. “Your professional opinion sir! You are a sailor sir! Your professional opinion should be kept for naval matters. You don’t know how to evaluate military situations. I tell you that the Spanish armies and the Spanish people will defeat the French, and we will appear as poltroons to the whole world if we do not assist them to the utmost of our ability.”

  Welbeloved gave up. There was no reasoning with Frere. He hoped that Sir John Moore would not allow himself to be led astray by wildly optimistic reports from Frere about the imaginary capabilities of the Spanish forces. Moore could so easily be putting his head into the lion’s mouth, trying to support armies that would melt away like snowflakes under a warm sun.

  He changed the subject. “Whatever Sir John is able to do Minister, I still have orders to escort the Marqués de San Palo and the Condesa de Alba y Hachenburg back to England. Perhaps yew can tell me where they can be found and I’ll be about my business?”

  Coldly once more, Frere nodded and pulled the bell rope. When the servant appeared, he sent for his secretary and gave curt instructions for Welbeloved to be conducted to the lodgings of the Condesa. As a parting shot, he couldn’t resist, “I hope you are aware of the quality of the people entrusted to your care Welbeloved. Both are related to royalty.” He said it with a kind of reverence, “and neither will take kindly to the half-baked ideas of republicanism that your countrymen are now promoting.” Welbeloved nodded gravely, and offering no reply, followed the servant out.

  ***

  The Condesa was not at home when Welbeloved and Vere called, and the door was opened by a scared looking maid, who informed them that her mistress had taken the entire male staff to help with the trenches and barricades that were being prepared as a defence against the French.

  She was however, able to direct them to the lodgings where the Marqués was staying. They found him after some difficulty, the house being in a run-down part of the city, with the rooms and general dilapidation giving ample indication that the Marqués, if not actually poor, was having to economise in many ways. The one and only servant, presumably Don Pedro’s valet, showed them into a sitting room where the Marqués was seated.

  They saw a dark-haired, thin-faced man of medium height, dressed fashionably, if somewhat foppishly in a blue coat and white breeches. The lace of his shirt and cuffs was expensive, but there was no doubt that it had not seen the inside of a laundry tub for many days.

  Two close-set dark eyes regarded the Englishmen with deep suspicion, and he remained seated while addressing them in rapid Spanish.

  He spoke far too quickly for either of them to understand and Welbeloved had to hold up his hand and ask him in his fractured Spanish if he would please speak more slowly. The Marqués obliged, but speaking disdainfully and in a manner one would use to a retarded child, demanded to know their business.

&
nbsp; Welbeloved produced his letters of introduction and handed them over. At the same time; as the Marqués was still seated and showing no sign of offering him a similar courtesy, he walked across and lowered himself into an armchair facing him. This action provoked an outraged glare and another flow of rapid Spanish, to which Welbeloved smiled politely, happily conveying the impression that he understood not one word.

  The Marqués pursed his lips in disgust and spoke again, but more slowly this time. “It is not considered proper to be seated in my presence Captain, unless I have given permission.”

  Welbeloved smiled again, politely but coldly. “Isn’t it interesting Marqués, how customs differ? In England, for example, it would be considered most improper to keep people standing. In view of yor forthcoming visit I will be happy to instruct yew on our polite customs and usages.”

  A mixture of emotions showed on Don Pedro’s face, but he was not about to pursue an argument he could see he was not going to win. He contented himself with another glare and a comment intended to be cutting. “As you are a foreigner without knowledge of how to behave in Spain, I will overlook your bad manners this time.”

  He resumed his reading of the letters from the Duke of York and the Foreign Secretary and folded them primly when he had finished. “His Royal Highness tells me that you will be providing a suitable escort to take me to England, together with certain valuable regalia which I hold in trust for my cousin the King, as and when he is able to return to his throne.”

  There was a certain quality of enthusiasm lacking in his voice. That doesn’t sound as though he’s greatly in favour of the return of King Carlos or his son, Welbeloved thought. Aloud, he said. “My government has given an undertaking to protect yew and whatever royal treasures you carry until the rightful king can once more rule his people. I am also, as yew know, escorting the Condesa de Alba at the same time and would like to move off as quickly as possible. There will be a ship waiting at Santander within the next week.”

  Don Pedro grimaced. “I am aware that the Condesa is also coming to England. I will be ready as soon as you wish Captain, although the Junta has confiscated all my estates that the French haven’t taken, and you will have to provide the coach for our journey. You will also have the problem of insisting that the Condesa joins us. She has the fancy that she is a great patriot, digging trenches and similar nonsense. As if that will stop the French!

  She demeans herself and her class doing such menial work. It isn’t as if she herself is Spanish. Her father was a Hanoverian and her mother was half-English. She is not a lady – not a proper woman; trying to behave like a man more times than not. I tell you Captain, she will give us a lot of trouble on this journey.”

  Welbeloved glanced at Vere who was desperately trying to keep a straight face. The Marqués was certainly no admirer of the Condesa, but then, he didn’t appear to be an admirer of anyone but himself. He broke in on the monologue. “I will arrange to leave early tomorrow morning Marqués. I will send Lord Vere to bring you to our rendezvous, and if you will excuse us now, we had better go and use our powers of persuasion on the Condesa.”

  Don Pedro resumed his writing and ignored them as they left. “Right cheerful company that one’ll be over the next week or so, eh George? And we look like being saddled with some sort of aristocratic Amazon to boot. Let’s go and see if we can find this warrior, and discover whether she’s got some kind of coach we can use. I fancy shutting them up together so that they can shout at each other and leave us in peace.” Vere grinned and made no comment as he fell into step.

  Three hours later, having toured almost the whole perimeter of the city, one of the engineer officers pointed out a tall female figure wearing a very dusty green dress. She was energetically supervising a round dozen men, struggling to move stones and boulders onto a barricade built across the neck of a valley leading onto the bridge over an almost dried-up watercourse.

  From where they stood on a prominence overlooking the scene, they could hear clearly the commands and exhortations in a remarkably loud, but nonetheless pleasant, soprano voice. The men working there were tired, judging by the way many of them were staggering. Most of them were near to exhaustion, but were doggedly continuing to move heavy loads and lever heavy rocks into position under the watchful eyes and quick tongue of the imposing blonde taskmaster in the grimy green dress.

  The engineer officer watched their expressions as they gazed down on the scene of intense and dusty activity. He gestured expressively towards the woman. “I wish Señores, that I had another dozen like her. The whole of that barricade and trench has been put there since dawn this morning. Anywhere else we would have needed twice as many men and it would not yet have been half finished. That is a very determined woman. She can drive them until they drop and they seem to love her for it.”

  They continued to watch for a while longer, the barricade being almost completed and the soprano voice carrying a note of triumph, anticipating the end of their endeavours. Vere turned to Welbeloved. “Is that your amazon that you hope to shut up in a carriage for a couple of weeks with Don Pedro?” he shook his head resignedly. “As you naval persons would say – watch out for squalls!”

  Welbeloved shrugged. “Yew know George, I reckon yew just might be right, but if I was a betting man I’d lay big odds on the Condesa. I wonder if he’s already been on the wrong side of her tongue? He was a mite intense when he was talking about her earlier.”

  He held Vere’s arm as he started to move down into the valley. “Bide a while George. They’re about finished. Wait until she lets them go and we’ll likely have her undivided attention.”

  Activity all around was drawing to a close as the light began to fade. The party working under the supervision of the Condesa dispersed, except for a small group that followed her up the slope. Welbeloved and Vere walked forward to meet them.

  The Condesa looked curiously at the two smart but inconspicuously dressed figures as she approached and they halted and saluted her formally, introducing themselves in halting Spanish. This called forth a faint moue of what might have been amusement, then she broke into their struggling words in fluent English, with but the faintest trace of accent. “Perhaps you will find it more convenient gentlemen, if we all speak English? As you will note, I understand it moderately well and I confess I will be more comfortable myself not having to comprehend your fractured Italian.”

  Welbeloved grinned ruefully. “Touché Condesa, I won’t inflict it on yew any more when yor own English is so perfect.” Indeed he thought, he could listen all day to her deepish, musical voice, made even more attractive by the slight trace of accent; only the faintest difference; perhaps the emphasis placed in not quite the right place.

  He realised he had been staring at her when he noticed two large grey eyes regarding him quizzically. “I hope Captain, that you do not find my appearance too displeasing. You seem to be giving it a deal of study. Perhaps a change of apparel after my labours of today would meet with more approval?”

  He found himself blushing, something he hadn’t done for years. “Condesa, yew must take no account of my bad manners. After watching yor labours, as yew call them, yew could be dressed in rags and I would still find your appearance beyond any criticism of mine.”

  She turned and gave rapid instructions to the half-dozen retainers who were waiting at some small distance and they all moved off. Turning back to Welbeloved, she smiled. “You can be gallant then Captain? You have studied the courtesies and compliments of the old world even though I detect echoes of the new world in your speech?” Without waiting for a reply she continued. “I have dismissed my servants, gentlemen. You may now pay me the additional compliment of escorting me back to my house; anticipating, shall we say, the onerous task that you have been sent here to do. We can discuss the details as we walk.”

  The two men fell into step with her as she strode out towards the city, but had little opportunity to talk about their forthcoming journey, as they were subjected
to a constant stream of questions about themselves, their men and their experiences since landing at Santander.

  Only when they were about at the end of their walk did the subject turn to their journey to the coast and she agreed without reservation to provide her own carriage and be ready to leave early the next morning. She looked troubled as she agreed to the arrangements, but shrugged. “There is a lot of work still for me to do Captain, but I cannot in my heart feel that we are doing anything but delay the inevitable, and I don’t want to find myself in French hands again. It was only the rising by the people of Spain that prevented me from being forced into marriage with one of Bonaparte’s protégés, so that they could give legitimacy to their ambitions to lay their hands on my estates instead of just stealing them. Bring your men round at dawn and I will be ready.”

  “Thank yew Condesa. I understand your feelings. We will be here prompt at six o’clock, together with the Marqués de San Palo, I trust yew have no objection to having him share your carriage for the journey?”

  For the first time he became aware that her composure was ruffled. Her eyes narrowed and her voice became vehement. “I would not wish, in normal times, to have any intimacy whatever with that man, Captain. To my opinion, he is a traitor to his King and his country. Not only that, but he has now also turned his coat against Joseph Bonaparte, having hurried to swear allegiance to him when he was imposed upon us. He will almost certainly betray anyone else if he thinks for one moment that it will serve his interests. I have to say that I will dislike intensely having to share my carriage with him, but as you are charged with bringing us both safely to England, I will of course co-operate to the best of my ability. I will expect you tomorrow morning gentlemen.”

  She turned abruptly and left them looking quizzically at one another. “Yew are something of a prophet George,” Welbeloved smiled. “There are indeed squalls in the offing. Yew’d better make sure that there’s a spare saddle tomorrow. I’ve a feeling that our friend Don Pedro might be grateful to escape from the Condesa.” Vere nodded sagely. “I’ll arrange that sir, but I must say that my sympathy is entirely with the Condesa. It’ll be instructive watching her put that little toad in his place.”