Talavera

by Griff Hosker

  Alan bowed and she hugged me, “I wondered if you had survived Coruña.” She laughed, “Of course you would survive. It is in your nature. Come, let us go into the palace and take refreshments.”

  Donna Maria and her staff were living in the servants’ quarters. She was a redoubtable lady. We enjoyed some fine Portuguese wine, it was a rosé and delicious. The Portuguese made rosé wines which compared well with those of Provence. We shared stories. The French threat had been just that, a threat although Donna Maria was adamant that she would not have left even had the French come. I believed her. We told her of the retreat. She was sad to hear of the death of Sir John. It had been reported but my eye witness account clearly upset her. I did not say we had been up country but she worked out that I would be doing what I did best. “This time Roberto, you and your general must drive the French from this land. They are savages!” She put her hand to her mouth, “What am I saying? You are half French!”

  “And what you say is true. It is not the ordinary people. It is those who lead them who are the problem!”

  When we left, late in the afternoon, I felt much better for Donna Maria showed us the real reason we were here. Britain had no desire to rule Portugal. The French did. It was as simple as that!

  Chapter 7

  When the General arrived, on the 22nd of April, then our relatively leisurely life ended. We were in the centre of a vortex! He wanted everything done yesterday. He seemed to be able to juggle social and diplomatic commitments whilst also ensuring that the army knew his plans. The first day saw the Colonel and me closeted for three hours with him while we gave him our assessment of the situation. We told him everything and, save for making an occasional notation, he just nodded.

  “You have both done well. It will take me a week or so to organize my men and for all the troops to land.”

  Colonel Selkirk said, “I will take myself off, sir, and see if I can find any intelligence from the south, eh?”

  “Good idea. And you, Matthews, take yourself back to Torres Vedras. The place intrigues me. I will send a troop of cavalry to join you just as soon as they have their legs. I want you to return to the Vouga. This time you can scout aggressively. Probe for weaknesses.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I would be pleased to be out of Lisbon. The already crowded streets were impassable as infantry, cavalry and artillery negotiated its streets as they made their way north to Coimbra where the General was mustering his allied army for the push north. Sharp and I left as soon as we could. My only unnecessary delay was to bid farewell to Donna d’Alvarez. She was a practical woman and she gave me the names of some contacts who lived north of the Douro. I knew that they would be more than useful. Sharp and I headed north.

  As this was the third time we had stayed in Torres Vedras we were given good rooms in the inn we had previously used and paid a lower rate in the stable. When I mentioned that Sir Arthur would be heading north with an English and German army, we were feted. We were served the best food and the best wine. We were greeted with smiles of welcome. An English army meant profit for all. With little between the Douro and Torres Vedras, it meant the town would be richer!

  “This is the life, eh sir. When do you think the Light Dragoons will get here?”

  “It normally takes a good three or four days for horses to get their land legs. I would say four days. Any sooner and it will be a reckless officer who brings his troop.” I wondered how many would be in the troop. It was unlikely to be the full complement of ninety officers and men. We would be lucky if it was fifty. That would still be better than just Sharp and me.

  In the end, Captain Rogers and his forty-nine men arrived late in the afternoon a week later. Their horses had been ridden hard. I saw the look on the troop sergeant’s face and knew that he was not happy. I had arranged rooms for the men for one night. I had estimated at sixty. We were drinking wine in the main square when they arrived. They saw my uniform and reined in. The Captain dismounted, “Captain Charles Rogers, D Troop, 23rd Light Dragoons reporting for duty, sir. I take it you are Major Matthews?”

  I nodded to the horses, “Yes I am but there was no need to rush. This is not England, Captain, there will be no remounts.” I turned, “Sergeant Sharp would you show the troop sergeant the stables?”

  “Sir!”

  This was a test. If the Captain went with his men then it would show me that he was a good officer. Instead, he said, “Lieutenant Minchin, go with the troop. Hargreaves, take my horse!”

  He sat in the seat vacated by Sergeant Sharp and grinned, “What is the wine like then, sir?”

  That was not the first question I expected from his lips but I would give him the benefit of the doubt, “Fairly decent.” I raised a finger and the waiter nodded. He brought over another glass and poured the captain a glass.

  “I was honoured to be chosen by the Colonel for this assignment. I have been itching to strike back at Bonaparte.”

  My heart began to sink. Captain Rogers was in a brand-new uniform. It showed no wear whatsoever. It looked like a best uniform and veterans rode in their oldest. This was a new officer. “When did you buy your commission, Captain?”

  “Six months ago! I was most miffed to have missed the earlier battles, still, better late than never.” He looked around the square. “The Colonel said we would be operating further north?”

  I nodded, “I hope you have brought tents and supplies.”

  He looked crestfallen, “I assumed we would commandeer houses, sir.”

  “Portugal is an ally. There are few villages and towns north of here.” I smiled, “Still, your chaps can probably make hovels eh?”

  “Hovels, sir?”

  “Improvised shelters using wood, branches and brushwood.”

  Just then Sergeant Sharp returned with the Lieutenant. “Sir, I shall just take the lads to their digs. They rode hard today.” He looked meaningfully at me, “They didn’t stop for food.”

  Captain Rogers said, “We were keen to get here, don’t you know!”

  “Carry on, Sergeant. I flipped him a couple of gold coins. See that they are fed eh?”

  Grinning, Alan said, “Yes sir, thank you, sir.”

  I looked up at the Lieutenant. He was older than his captain. “Sit down, Lieutenant.” I waved over the waiter who brought another glass.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Another bottle of wine and another chair.”

  “Yes, Major Matthews.”

  “They seem to know you, sir.” In contrast to the Captain, the Lieutenant looked like a veteran. His uniform was faded. It was almost pale blue. His boots were scuffed and I could see that they needed to be resoled. His sword was standard issue. The Captain had an engraved one which would have cost a small fortune.

  I nodded, “This is the third time we have stayed here.” The Lieutenant sipped his wine. “Have you served before, Lieutenant Minchin?”

  “Yes sir, I was in Egypt. I was in the 26th before it was renumbered, sir.”

  I nodded. Egypt had killed my horse, Killer. “Damned hot country and no good for horses.”

  He smiled, “Yes sir. Were you there? Which regiment?”

  It was my turn to be enigmatic, “I was unattached. If the troop has experience then that will help.” I began to see why Colonel Hawker had sent the troop. The Officer might be a novice but his men were not.”

  Although I spoke to both of them the Lieutenant understood that my words were addressed to him, “I take it you are well provisioned with ammunition.”

  The Lieutenant looked at Captain Rogers who smiled, “Thanks to Geoffrey here, we are. He and Sergeant Fenwick insisted on having spare flints and plenty of powder and ball. I told him we would not need them. We are cavalry! The charge is what we do best, eh Major?”

  “If you wanted to charge, Captain, then you should have joined the Dragoons or Dragoon Guards. We are the eyes and ears of the army. You will use your carbine more than you use your sabre.”

  “But I have
not brought a carbine, I thought…”

  I shook my head, “Hopefully we can take one from a Chasseur.” The Lieutenant looked up, “There is at least one cavalry regiment on the Vouga. The 5th Chasseurs.”

  Captain Rogers’ eyes widened, “You have met them already?”

  I nodded, “Sergeant Sharp and I had a run in with four of them. Luckily, we also carry a brace of pistols. We managed to take their horses. Speaking of which, have you any spare mounts?”

  “I have a second hunter, sir, but we have none for the troop.”

  “Surely you have animals to carry your supplies?”

  The Captain was silenced, I think it was the embarrassment and Lieutenant Minchin shook his head, “They are with the regiment, sir. We have neither pots nor food to cook in them.”

  This would be harder than I thought. I would have to buy back the three French horses and another three. I was lucky that the general had given me money before I left Lisbon. “Then we will have to go and buy some when Sergeant Sharp returns.”

  Alan arrived back a short while later. His face was a picture. I guessed Troop Sergeant Fenwick had shared the dilemma of the novice Captain with him. “When we have finished the wine, Sharp, we will need to buy horses and cooking utensils as well as supplies.”

  “I took the liberty, sir, of speaking with Manuel at the stables. He has ten horses for us. He said he would sell them at a fair price.”

  I knew what that meant. He would take his profit first.

  It became clear that the Captain had paid his £2682. 10 shillings to get his captaincy and not bothered to find out what else he needed to do. The buying of commissions was outdated in a modern war. The Lieutenant had not been as well connected as the Captain. He would have to wait for a battlefield commission to be promoted. When we had bought everything and had it delivered to the stables we ate. I explained, as we ate, what we would be doing.

  “Our main aim is to find out the full strength of the men opposing us. I know there is at least one battalion of line infantry backing up the cavalry. There is at least one cannon too. French spies will have already told them that we are coming. Once we leave here we will need to be wary. I will use your experienced men as scouts. We will be riding hard each day. My sergeant and I have done this before. We will be riding at the head of the column. Captain, I want you in the middle.”

  “It is my troop, sir!”

  I decided that being brutal was the only answer to the Captain’s naïvety. “You bought the commission, Captain, not the troop. I will be giving the orders and the sooner you realise that the better. This is not a game. French Chasseurs are good! Damned good. Luckily our troopers, when well led, are better. Look upon your time with me as an extended training period. Lieutenant, you have been with the troop the longest. I want your best sergeant and Corporal with me.”

  “That would be Sergeant Fenwick.”

  I shook my head, “The Troop Sergeant, no. I want him at the rear. He will be the most experienced man in the troop. If we get cut down then we will need his experience at the rear.”

  “Then it would be Sergeant Parkinson and Corporal Groves, sir.”

  “Good. Standing orders are that when trouble strikes the men draw carbines. I hope that they are proficient in their use.”

  The Captain said nothing. He was in his cups already. All my words had depressed him. He had seen this as a great and glorious opportunity to show how brave he was. The Lieutenant said, “Like the curate’s egg sir, good in parts.”

  “Then pair up the experienced with the novice. This is all about the quick and the dead.”

  The Captain looked up, “The quick and the dead, sir?”

  “If you are not quick then the odds are that you will be dead!”

  He went to bed drunk and unhappy!

  The next two days were hard. I not only had to watch for the French but also had to train the Captain. He had become an officer just for the uniform and the position. Lieutenant Minchin was loyal and he did not speak out of turn but from his omissions and looks I gathered that Colonel Hawker had sent the Captain to me as a kill or cure. Parkinson and Groves, on the other hand, were perfect. They reminded me of men with whom I had served in the Chasseurs and some of the 11th. I recognised that they were both quick and reacted promptly to the messages I was sending them. The first halt we had I examined their carbines. They were perfectly maintained. The flints were good and they each had a ball already loaded.

  Sergeant Parkinson nodded towards the Baker rifle, “Unusual sir, for an officer to own such a gun. Especially a cavalry officer.”

  “I learned long ago, Sergeant Parkinson, that the further away I could kill an enemy the better my chance of survival. This is a very accurate weapon.”

  “Slow to load though, sir.”

  I shook my head, “In the retreat to Corunna I watched the 60th. They just rammed the ball down when time was pressing. Even half loaded they are still accurate. The other secret is to have a good partner. While I reload Sergeant Sharp fires his weapon.”

  Parkinson nodded and then lowered his voice, “Sergeant Sharp told me that you were promoted from the ranks. Is that right, sir?”

  I didn’t tell him that it had been the French army. I nodded, “Would you like to be an officer, Parkinson?”

  The involuntary sideways glance at Captain Rogers spoke volumes, “I think I might make a good leader, sir.”

  I nodded, “The trouble is to become an officer on a battlefield normally means doing something so stupid that it might result in your death! Stay safe, Sergeant, and stay a sergeant. You will live longer.”

  He grinned, “Aye sir. That is good advice.”

  As we neared the river, I became alert. I rode with my Baker across my saddle. I remembered our encounter with the Chasseurs. As it happened, we did meet them. We were closer to the river this time. By my estimate, we were just ten miles from the river. However, on this occasion, we had a little more warning. As we dropped through a pass a flock of pigeons took flight from the wood ahead. I reined in immediately. Sergeant Sharp and I had our Baker rifles in hand and aimed down the road in a flash. Parkinson and Groves were a heartbeat behind.

  Some of the troop showed their inexperience. They continued to ride even though we had stopped. They spread untidily across the sides of the road. I had no time to worry about that. I saw the leading Chasseur. There were four of them ahead of a column of forty men. I guessed forty even though I could only see ten or so. They galloped towards us.

  Sergeant Sharp shouted, “Carbines at the ready!”

  Both the Chasseurs and our men knew how inaccurate were the carbines both armies used. They were a short-range weapon. They were better than a pistol but at a range longer than forty yards it was a lottery if you hit. The Baker, on the other hand, was deadly. I did not need to order Sharp to fire. He knew what to do. I did not aim at the leading Chasseurs. I saw a sergeant, four men back, urging his men on. He was a hundred and ten paces away and must have felt himself safe. I let out my breath and I fired. Smoke erupted from the end of my weapon and then I heard the crack. I could almost see the ball as it struck the Sergeant in the chest. It punched him from his saddle. A heartbeat later and the Corporal next to him fell as Sharp’s ball burst his head open like a ripe plum. The four leading riders were oblivious to what had happened behind them but the officer, who had been behind the two dead men, held up his hand to halt the rest of the column. Perhaps he saw that we outnumbered him or, more likely, he thought we were all armed with the Baker rifle.

  Parkinson and Groves opened fire together. Another four carbines barked. Two of the Chasseurs fell. The other two glanced at each other and then tried to wheel their horses around. More carbines fired. The two men were hit but did not fall. I slipped my rifle over my pommel and drew my sword, “After them!” I did not think we would catch them. They had small, lithe horses and they had a start but I wanted to get as close to the river as I could. I had seen it in darkness. Now I needed to see it in
daylight. This was a perfect opportunity.

  Some of the younger troopers tried to overtake me. Sergeant Parkinson growled, “Get back in line you dozy bumpkins! We follow the officer!”

  I knew that this would be a long ride to the river and I wanted to conserve our horses. I could not reload the Baker but I had two pistols in my belt. I regretted not bringing the holsters for the saddle. We had more pistols. At four paces you could not miss and in a hard battle they could be the difference between survival and death. I saw that the two wounded Frenchmen were struggling to stay in their saddles. First one slipped from the saddle and fell into the ditch and then the other. I shouted, “Lieutenant Minchin, have men secure those prisoners.”

  “Sir!”

  They might eventually die but if we could learn about the enemy then it was worth four men who would secure them.

  The road began to descend. We were getting closer to the river. I heard bugles and drums. The defenders at the bridge were preparing to give us a hot reception. I had no doubt that they would have the three-pounder loaded with grape. Three hundred yards from the gun’s muzzle would be the closest we could approach. Some of the troopers at the rear of the French column were slowing. That would help us. I risked urging Donna on and we began to close with the ones at the rear. The troopers heard our hooves and they turned to see how close we were. They saw that we were less than forty yards away and well within carbine range. They spurred their horses. I could now see the bridge and the gun. I saw the crew preparing to fire. Even as I held up my hand and shouted, “Halt!” a nervous gunner applied the linstock. Although most of the Chasseurs had crossed the bridge, eight had not and the grapeshot scythed through horses and men. A piece scorched across Donna’s flank. She veered away. I hauled back on the reins. We had been lucky.