All the while Nellie was nodding furiously.
“That’s right. That’s the truth of it, an’ one wrong word would’ve got us scragged, an’ lucky to come out alive.”
Now Bridie was nodding, with even more energy.
“An’ sure, was it not us, as’ve risked our necks to give youse all a better chance with this eejit fight that you’ve all fixed up?”
There was no argument against that, and so Jed changed the subject to the object of the visit.
“So what did you see?”
Bridie looked at Nellie, as if asking who should start and what to say, so Nellie began.
“He’s huge! Not tall, but huge. I’ve never seen a man his shape. He’s like the front end of an ox. No neck and a head like a bucket, turned upside down!”
Bride joined in.
“With no ears! None that you could see. But we saw him lift a Grenadier right off the ground, throw him, then jump on top.”
Both were now nodding.
“If he’d told us that he was the Champion of all Ireland, we’d have no cause but to believe him.”
Deakin was now more than curious, over a subject of his own.
“Who’s this you were taking to?”
Nellie answered.
“This Sergeant that we had to butter up. O’Rourke. But I’ll say that he was a decent sort of fellow and expects to escort us both to the fight this Thursday.”
Deakin was less than pleased, but it was undeniable that both had found out what they went for and both were back safe, albeit with the full use of feminine wiles and Bridie’s handsome looks. He turned to Zeke Saunders.
“What do you think, Zeke?”
“I’ve heard of such a man. And he is Irish.”
His face was thoughtful, as Deakin asked the next question.
“Has he been beaten?”
Saunders shook his head.
“Not that I’ve heard. I’ve only heard of how he’s won his fights, with a throw just like Bridie here described.”
Davey now joined in.
“So you think what? Can you wear him down? He’s just come off a ship!”
Saunders nodded.
“That’s the hope. Sound’s like he has a lot of weight to shift around.”
He turned to the two women.
“Did you see him charge at his opponents at all?”
Both women shook their heads, but Nellie answered.
“No, not once. He waited for them to come onto him.”
Saunders nodded.
“Not more than one, surely?”
Nellie nodded.
“He held off two. Grenadiers, I’d say, by the size of ‘em.”
Saunders looked around at his messmates.
“This has to be all science, but I wouldn’t like to bet on it, either way.”
With that, all went to the parade ground space to work out some moves and tactics, but confidence was not in abundance!
The following day saw an order circulate for equipment inspection and a parade after Noon meal. Saunders, Davey and Miles gave their kit to Byford, Pike and Bailey to check, and so they continued to practice throughout the morning. On parade they all passed the inspection and so the rest of the day was spent on tactics designed to tire the Connaught. At days end came a good meal and then quiet talk by the campfire, before sleep.
Dawn came, with no orders and so, after a simple meal of porridge, Saunders spent the time in his tent, resting or flexing and stretching. At 11.00 Miles came in for some final words and to massage his shoulders and then they left the tent, with Saunders wearing only breeches and his tunic draped around his shoulders. Both joined the throng heading for the site of the contest, seeming to come from all around, not just from the camps of the two contestants. The word had evidently circulated of a match between two prime wrestlers. However, Miles and Saunders were just nearing the ring, its whitewash clear on the grass, when suddenly bugles sounded from all directions and everyone stopped. The call was ‘warning for parade’. Many looked at each other, but there could be no doubt. In five minutes would come ‘quarter call’ and five minutes after that ‘fall in’. The sound of the bugle carried the same weight as a direct order from an Officer, so all had no choice but to turn and hurry back the way they had come. To fail to arrive on parade could mean fifty lashes, even being hung for desertion with some Colonels. All thoughts of wrestling contests died with the last notes of the bugle and within two minutes all that remained at the contest ground was downtrodden grass around an incongruous white circle. The Battalion parades were then formed up, throughout each Brigade of Wellesley’s army, for all to be told that within the hour they would be marching East, into Spain.
oOo
Carr and Drake were leaning on the parapet of the bridge over the River Elga, the heat in the stone penetrating the cloth of their tunics and the sun hot on their necks beneath warm collars and hot shakos. They were staring North placing Portugal to their left and Spain to their right, therefore, to mark the occasion each was holding a small pewter tankard of red wine, almost as warm as the water in their flasks. On the Spanish side of the pair stood Shakeshaft and Maltby, each with their own tankard. Carr raised his drink for a toast.
“Here’s to another dose of Spain. More palatable than the last time, we can only hope!”
His audience did not repeat the toast, but drank instead of the blood hot liquid. However, Shakeshaft made reply.
“I think, Sir, that this time our problems will be somewhat different. At least not caused by the cold.”
Carr could only nod in agreement and he made no reply, as all four now made better use of the break from their march, by turning to sit on the parapet until the heat became unbearable, forcing them to return to leaning on it, whilst watching the sluggish and turgid water trickle its way through the many runnels and channels of the winter wide stream bed. Some men of the Light Company came to the riverside to fill their canteens, but Carr sent them back.
“Not from here! You can’t trust it. At the next village, I’ll commandeer the well and you can fill from there. It’ll not be too far.”
The men saluted and returned to the shade of the olive trees and scrub that they had been using as shelter, all carefully corking their canteens, because the water contained therein had suddenly become very precious. The notes sounded for ‘fall in’ and the whole Battalion of the 105th emerged from the undergrowth to fill the road. From the front, the Grenadiers began to march and the following Companies joined on, to march through the lingering dust thrown up by the whole army, both before and after. The cloud remained in the hollows of the road, but thankfully was usually shoed away by the light breeze that wafted over the more open stretches of the light brown strip of dirt that masqueraded as a road.
The village did not come until late afternoon and Carr was as good as his word, finding a well amongst the low white houses and holding it for Gibney and Sedgwicke to perform their organizational scheme and carefully share out the good water. As the evening meal was being cleared away, there came a real surprise, as usual delivered by Bugle Bates. The clear, sharp notes of Post Call! After fifteen minutes all Company Sergeants were making their way back to their Companies, Ellis in the case of the Light Company. When coming to the mess of Deakin and his companions, Ellis threw a letter in the direction of John Davey, this perfunctory act accompanied by no words, as he then progressed on to the next mess ground. Davey looked at the names on the cover, recognizing his own, but also that of Joe Pike.
“’Tis for me an’ thee, Joe.”
Joe Pike hurried over, soon to be joined by the whole group, including the Followers. Davey looked around at his growing audience, before breaking the seal and opening the paper, which was, surprisingly, of good quality. He scanned down, speaking aloud any words that he recognised.
“Molly. Mary. Well. Cows. Now. Sold.”
Deakin’s patience collapsed and he took hold of the letter to find the content beyond him.
“Wer’s Byford?”
The answer came from Saunders.
“Sentry go.”
By good chance Deakin looked up to see Sedgwicke passing by, having finished his duties at the well and now carrying his own filled bucket.
“Parson!”
The word gained Sedgwicke’s attention, and Deakin waved him over.
“Yer.”
The simple, almost brutal, summons from one such as Deakin again rankled, but Deakin had always been more than welcoming and helpful, and besides, and perhaps more importantly, Deakin was a Colour Sergeant and he the merest Private. Whatever, his arrival at their fire soon mollified any anguish within the self-esteem of the good Sedgwicke as Nellie thrust a mug of tea and a dough-cake into his hand. He sat down on a box.
“Parson. We got a letter yer from Molly and Mary an’ our reader is on sentry.”
He handed the letter across and Sedgwicke turned it towards the fire. All around stopped what they were doing and silence fell.
“It was written by Tilly.”
Tilly was Molly’s first child from a ‘husband’ before Davey and Sedgwicke had begun her teaching when they were all in barracks together in 1806. Sounds and gestures of great satisfaction came from all around, as Sedgwicke began to read.
“Dear John and Joe. Both Molly and Mary are doing well and we can pay for a Doctor to come and see both from time to time. He is very happy with how they are. The farm is making money for us all and we can add to the small cottage that was on the land when we bought it. Eggs and pigs are best for making money, but we can keep three cows for milk which always gets sold. We are thinking of renting extra land to grow our own feed, probably turnips as they keep through the winter to keep the animals going. Your Mother is well and your sister, but your Mother’s leg gives her a bit of pain, but she still works around the animals, particularly the pigs. I go to school each day, paid for by our local Parson, the Reverend Blackmore, who is also the Squire. He is a good kind man. We would like it if you could get a letter back if you can. We hope that this gets to you and you are both alive and well. All the best of our affections to you both, and Uncle Jed and the others. Love to you all, Tilly.”
Sedgwicke handed back the letter to Deakin and began the pleasurable business of eating his cake and drinking his tea. Meanwhile, all around came words on two subjects, first, how well the smallholding was doing and, second, what a wonderful letter Tilly had written. As one of their own, they all took great pride in her learning and advancement, Sergeant Henry Nicholls speaking the thoughts of many.
“That girl’s a real credit to you, John.”
It needed Tom Miles to slightly change the subject, looking at Davey and Pike sat together.
“Them two sprogs of yourn is like enough to be raised as twins, when they’n born, bein’ as you both did the business at the same time.”
Nellie Nicholls seized her spoon and waved it in front of his face.
“Now that’s enough from you, Tom Miles! Such talk! What a married man and his good wife gets up to is no concern of yours. No concern at all!”
Miles immediately took umbrage.
“John an’ Molly b’ain’t married! Mary an’ Joe, but not they two!”
Nellie was deflated somewhat, but soon regained her ground.
“They are according to what we looks upon as married! Didn’t he take the rope, back there in Taunton? An’ that does well enough for the likes of us, an’ that includes you!”
A pause, before she withdrew, being now a little more content at having countered the harsh words of Tom Miles.
“John and Molly is two good people as’ve started out together and are bringing up a family. God’ll not condemn them for that, would he now, Parson?”
Sedgwicke took time to swallow a mouthful in order to gain time. This called for the most careful of diplomacy.
“Well, it has to be said that, for a union between a man and a woman to be recognised as a marriage, the union should be made in a Church before an Ordained Priest.”
Tom Miles began to smile, then the expression died on his face.
“On the other hand, I am wholly sure that our kind and forgiving Lord God will not condemn two God Fearing people who come together in a manner of good intent as would any Church wed husband and wife and then raise their children in a God Fearing manner.”
He paused, but all were listening.
“Is it not the case that, in the ancient times before the coming of the Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ, many marriages were made and acknowledged in all kinds of different ways and held good till death did them part?”
Nellie was triumphant.
“There, Tom Miles. Pick the bones out of that!”
Tom Miles was far from subdued.
“You can pick out of that whatever you like!”
Jed Deakin smiled and nodded and gave Sedgwicke two hearty slaps on his back.
“Well said, Old Parson. I’d say that was about the truth of it. Now …….”
He looked up and all around.
“We’ve twenty more miles on the morrow. Make sure you’re all up together.”
Deakin had spoken and the discussion ended as all eased away from the fire to attend to their kit and with that, Sedgwicke lifted his bucket and went on his own way, but Davey called to him as he left.
“Come next evenin’, Parson, if you will, an’ we’ll get a reply letter started.”
Sedgwicke waved his agreement and continued on his way.
Simultaneously, in another part of the camp, two Officers were engaged in their own reading, each with their own letter of huge significance from their own lady. Of the two, Drake finished first, his being from his wife Cecily and he looked up to begin his questioning, but Carr was still thoroughly absorbed with that from his fiancé Jane. Forced by the silence, Drake began reading again, until Carr looked up, and then Drake spoke.
“Any news? Of great import, at all?”
Carr let fall the hand holding the letter, took a deep breath and sighed.
“None as such. With Father away, here with us, she’s living in the family home, but Lady Constance is a great support, managing her income from the money invested for her and making good use of what I send back. She mentions your Cecily as a great comfort and support.”
He paused.
“But she speaks nothing of our wedding, you know, such as ‘looking forward to the time, when we’ll be together’, that sort of thing.”
It was now Drake’s turn to sigh.
“And, of course, you put all that in your letters to her!”
The sarcasm in his voice was patent and it showed on Carr’s face that the words had some traction, but he said nothing. As far as Drake was concerned, he didn’t need to.
“Right! Next letter, you’ll fill the thing up with all that sort of stuff. Starting tomorrow night’s camp.”
He looked quizzically at his good friend.
“You do keep a sort of journal, each day, adding a few lines ‘till you’ve enough for a letter, finished off with highly ornate language about missing her most terribly.”
He paused for a reply, but none came.
“You know they love all that sort of daily doings thing, like when the heel came off your shoe and whatnot. That little domestic stuff, besides the big story, that we’re marching into Spain to tackle the French once more!”
Carr changed the subject.
“So how’s Cecily?”
Drake perked up, considerably.
“Well! Very well. She’s settled into our home, employed two servants, a cook and a gardener. And sprucing up the place is coming along very well, just two rooms to go.”
He sat up beaming with satisfaction.
“All is very well. The Doctors are very pleased with her.”
More beaming.
“I really am the luckiest of men!”
Carr nodded and genuinely smiled.
“You are. Indeed you are.”
Then he changed he su
bject back.
“But, you know, I cannot dislodge the thought that she wants her Father’s blessing. He’s her one remaining parent, you know.”
It was now Drake’s turn to nod knowingly.
“You may be right, but I’d say that, if you show enough push behind the affair, then she’ll still go through with it. Especially if you can get home, with Father still out here.”
He paused.
“He’s in disgrace, by the way. His KGL are now under Sherbrook and he’s been whizzed back to the Commissariat. Hopefully he’ll make a better job of commanding wagon loads of flour and biscuit than he did of troops and cavalry at Oporto.”
Carr grinned openly.
“Can’t say I have any regrets about that. Ridiculous man! But our food and supplies depending on the likes of him. That’s not reassuring.”
Another thought occurred.
“Which must leave the twin-like two out on a limb, just a bit. Remember Templemere and Tavender, speaking in grand terms about them being on his Staff. Wonder if they still are?”
Drake grinned.
“Hope not. Neither of those two would know a side of bacon from the side of a barn!”
Both laughed as their servant, Henry Morrison, brought them their supper of cheese and fruit. Soon came the bugle call for ‘Lights Out’.
Both voicing concern over supplies proved to be disturbingly prescient, because six dry and dusty days later, the whole army halted at the small town of Plasencia, making camp in the hills and fields all around. In their camp, two miles out, Carr, Drake, Maltby and Shakeshaft were sat awaiting their evening meal, which was eventually ladled out by a very sheepish Morrison. Drake took a spoon, dipped it in and held it up to examine the result.
“Enlighten me, Morrison. What exactly am I required to dine on, this evening?”
Morrison was wholly ill at ease.
“Well Sir, the green is dried beans, the long sort, the white is potato, and the red is them Spanish beans, Sir. The seedlike sort!”
“And the liquid?”
“Water, Sir. With some biscuit stirred in. An’ some sage, Sir, there’s plenty of that all over.”
“Two days ago there was some fish and before that some beef, albeit of the army sort.”
The Plains of Talavera Page 17