by Griff Hosker
I said, “French horsemen ahead, Sharp.”
“I thought I saw something, sir. Not too many places to hide around here are there?”
I glanced up the slope. There was a track of sorts. It led to a col. I knew there was a valley on the other side of it but I did not know if there was a road. The alternative was to go back. The French were below us. If they came towards us, we might have to try to escape. The decision was taken out of our hands. The six horsemen burst from cover and galloped up the road.
“Use the Bakers. Let us discourage them and thin them out, eh? Then we head up that trail to the col.”
“Right sir. I’ll take the one on the right.”
As I aimed the rifle, I saw that they were Dragoons. One reason I liked Donna was that she was stable. She would stand stock still until I commanded otherwise. I saw that it was a Brigadier who led the detachment. We called them corporals. I waited until they were one hundred and fifty paces from us and I fired. I fired to the right, as I had been taught in the Chasseurs so as to minimise the chance of a backfire hurting my horse. Sharp fired a heartbeat later. I hit the Brigadier but he did not fall. Sharp unhorsed his man. The horsemen stopped and drew their muskets. Leaving my Baker on the pommel I turned and spurred Donna. The spare horses were tied to our saddles. Getting moving was always the hard part. The delay in the pursuit helped us and we were thirty yards up the trail before the Dragoons began to gain ground on us.
Two of the five who remained tried to ride up the slope. I heard the wounded Brigadier shout an order. It was too late for one man whose horse stumbled and threw him. It meant the wounded Brigadier led just three men. They had to ride to the spot from which we had fired and then follow us. As we rode, I was looking for the next place we could stop and fire. Half a mile up the trail I saw some rocks. The trail looked to turn around them. I could see that it continued up the slope.
“When we get to those rocks, we stop again! We fire one more time and hope that we can discourage them.”
“Right, sir.”
Glancing behind me I saw that they were now gaining on us. They did not have pack horses to worry about. The man who had fallen had remounted and was trailing behind. There were just four men we would have to deal with. We would try one shot each and then I would use my pistols and sword. We still had a lead of one hundred and thirty paces when we rounded the rocks. I quickly loaded the Baker. I just rammed the ball down. I spurred Donna to take her back to the trail. The four Dragoons were less than eighty paces from us. I lifted the Baker and aimed at the trooper who was ahead of the Brigadier. I saw the blood on the right shoulder of the French NCO. I could ignore him. The ball I fired was at relatively close range and hit the Frenchman in the chest. It threw him from the saddle. Sharp’s ball hit another in the side. He retained his saddle. I let the Baker’s sling slip to the pommel and drew my pistols. The Brigadier and the other trooper were now just forty paces away. I pulled the triggers of both pistols and they hit the last unwounded man. He fell from his saddle.
I shouted, “Brigadier, I can kill you in an instant! You have lost!”
He glared at me and then shouted, “Fall back!” The horses had obeyed the order before it was given. I watched the wounded men ride back to the one who had fallen. He had stopped and was aiming his musket at us. He fired but the ball fell woefully short. Sharp had reloaded. I watched them reach their wounded comrade at the road. They stopped and tended to their wounds. I knew that the Brigadier was watching us to discover what we were doing. They were a good half a mile away. There was a temptation to fire the Baker one more time but it would have been a waste.
I handed my Baker to Sharp to reload and, dropping Donna’s reins, walked back to the two dead men. They were the 5th Dragoons. They had no papers on them. I had hoped for some intelligence.
“They are leaving, sir. It looks like they are heading to Plasencia.”
I remounted Donna. “Then that rules Plasencia out for us.” I looked across the valley. The range of hills was higher on that side of the valley but I knew that there was another main road there. I saw a trail leading up across it. “When they are out of sight, we head south-east towards Novaconjeo.”
“What is there, sir?”
“Hopefully Spanish, but I don’t know. The trouble with this land is that it is easy to block the roads. General Wellesley will have a hard job until we reach the plains.”
They left and we headed, with the sun setting behind us, towards another road. If that was patrolled too then we might fail to do what Sir Arthur wanted.
We crossed the road and headed up the trail. This was a steeper slope and so we swapped horses. Donna had done her part. Travelling east by south meant we kept the sun behind us, warming our backs as we headed up towards the col and the pass to the next valley. I knew that we were pushing our luck but I wanted to be in the next valley before the Dragoons returned. They would return. We had used Baker rifles and that marked us as British. We dropped down the next valley and into darkness. The sun had not yet set but the mountain put us in shadow. There was enough light to see the trail and we followed it as it zig-zagged down the slope. We needed to stop before it became too dark but I wanted a decent campsite. The last thing I wanted was to perch precariously on a trail. We also needed grazing for our horses. We had some grain but I was conserving the little we had until we had to use it.
We had to dismount and walk. It was too dark now to see. When the ground flattened out and we were close enough to a tiny mountain stream, we stopped. Sergeant Sharp shook his head, “Not the most luxurious of digs, sir. But I guess that it will do nicely in the circumstances.”
“The Dragoons will be after our blood, Alan. I am hoping that our diversion will put them off our trail. They might think we headed west, back to our lines. We will see.”
“No fire then, sir?”
“No fire, Alan. Cold comfort tonight.”
We saw to the horses first. We watered them and then tethered them close to grass. Before we left the next day, I would give each of them a handful of grain. Finally, we saw to ourselves. The ham which we had been given was delicious, but, after more than ten days on ham and stale bread, I yearned for something else. We had also finished the wineskin and were now reduced to water. The stream we had found was bubbling and so I risked filling our canteens from it. That done we used our cloaks as a groundsheet and wrapped ourselves in our blankets.
“We could always go back now, sir. We did find the French.”
“True, but this could just be the garrison from Plasencia. We need to find their army, although you are right in one respect. It looks like we have driven the French from Portugal and that is not bad after just two small skirmishes. We have lost few men and Soult is finished. A good start.”
“A long way to go, sir.”
“As you so rightly say, Sharp, a long way to go.”
It had been some time since I had been forced to camp in the open. Even when there had been no inn, we had found a barn in which to sleep. Straw was more comfortable than the hard ground. Perhaps the discomfort made my sleep lighter than it was normally. Or it may have been the whinny which Donna gave. Either way, I was awake when I heard the foot slip on the gravel. The pistol which lay next to me was in my hand in an instant. I gambled that these were not French. If they had been then they would have already fired their weapons. I spoke in Spanish.
“A little late to come calling, gentlemen!” The sabre was at my throat before I knew it. A Spaniard towered over me. My pistol was pressed into his groin. “If you stab me then my dying hand will pull the trigger. Not a pleasant way to die, my friend.”
He laughed, “You are English.” The sabre was removed, “You may remove your pistol, milord. We are friends of the English.”
I stood and saw that there were six men. I said, “Guerrillas?”
He gave a mock bow, “I am Juan of La Calzada de Béjar. I keep these mountains free from the French.”
I nodded, “But not the
next valley.”
He put a huge paw around my shoulders, “It was you doing the shooting! Miguel told me that he had seen two French Dragoons who had been shot! You are doubly welcome. Come, this is no place for such a hero. We will go to my village, La Calzada de Béjar. You shall sleep with a roof over your head.” His voice became serious, “And we can discover what two English lords are doing here!”
Chapter 13
The village was a lot closer than I had expected it to be. I wondered why I had not smelled their wood smoke. There were only twenty houses. We later discovered that four of them just had a single person living in them. The French had taken hostages and shot them as reprisals for attacks. These were a tough people. They had simple homes and most had just one room in which they ate, cooked and slept. The one we entered was bigger and had two rooms. A table and chair were in the centre and I saw straw-filled mattresses around the side. When we had walked in to the village I had seen the communal oven. Our horses were unsaddled and tethered. I saw the men looking enviously at the beasts. They would be safe but the French would be fair game.
Juan was the head man. He had the largest house. We were taken there. He had a wife and six children. They stared as we entered. “Welcome to my home. While you are in La Calzada de Béjar you will be my guests. Maria, wine and cheese.”
I knew that they would be offended if I offered them our ham and wine. I would leave them as gifts when we parted. “You are a gracious host.”
His wife brought the wine and the home-made cheese. Both were rough and robust but they were also very tasty. Sharp smiled at Maria. His Spanish was a little like the cheese, rough but when he spoke it came from the heart and made Juan’s wife beam, “Good cheese!” To emphasise it he rubbed his belly and said, ‘Yum, yum!’ The children giggled.
Juan’s face showed me that he appreciated Alan’s words, “So what are you doing here, milord?”
I knew there was little point in telling him that I was no lord. The Spanish seemed to think that every English officer was a lord. “We are seeking the French.”
“It seems to me that you found them today.”
“Not patrols, Juan, but their main army. My General wishes to defeat them.”
“Good, but can he do it?”
“Sir Arthur was the General who defeated the French at Rolica and Vimeiro. Last month he defeated them at the Vouga River and drove them from Portugal after the battle of Oporto!”
Miguel, who had also come in the house with us, was obviously Juan’s second in command. He nodded, “That explains those ambulances and wounded men we saw heading to Talavera!”
Juan nodded, “And that is where you will find your Frenchmen. There are two squadrons of Dragoons at Plasencia. The main army is at Talavera. It is between here and Madrid. The General there is called Jourdan.”
I said, “Not Victor?”
“It was the one they called Victor but he has returned to the puppet they put on our throne.”
“And General Cuesta, where is he?”
Juan spat into the fire, “There was a time when we had generals who had balls. The ones we have now are eunuchs. The French do not fear them. They fear us, the guerrillas but not the army. Cuesta is south of here. If he hears that your general has had a victory then he may come north just to claim credit.”
I nodded and emptied my beaker. Maria took that as a sign I wanted more. She refilled my beaker. “Thank you for that information, Juan.”
“So now you will return to your army?”
“I am afraid not. I will need to get close to Talavera. My general will need to know the make up of the army and the dispositions of the enemy. He will want to bring him to battle.”
He frowned, “And how many men does your general have?”
“Between eighteen and twenty thousand men.”
“Then he will be outnumbered. The French have three armies within twenty miles. They can field almost fifty thousand men! Even with General Cuesta’s dubious thirty thousand men, you would be defeated.” He shook his head, “Such a pity.”
“When we attacked at Oporto, we launched the attack with less than two thousand men. The French had ten thousand and were dug in.” I smiled, “We won and lost less than one hundred and forty men.”
“Then your general is a magician. Perhaps Miguel and I will come with you tomorrow. We will show you the back ways to Talavera.”
“You do not need to.”
“But we want to. It is but sixty miles over the Sierra de Gredos.”
As soon as he said that I knew we would have to let them ride our spare horses. As it turned out both could ride. We left our spare equipment and supplies in the village. When we headed south and east, I saw the mountain range we would have to cross. I knew then that we would have taken the road but for the chance encounter with Juan. He told us, as we rode, that it had been our skirmish with the Dragoons which had made them curious. They had not seen us but they had seen the dead Dragoons. It was the noise of our horses which had drawn their attention to us. They had thought we were survivors from the French attack and had thought to slit our throats!
The two Spaniards found the journey far easier than Sharp and I. We were not on roads; they were barely trails. Had Sharp and I been on our own then we would have been lost. I do not think that Sir Arthur would have discovered anything for we rode through a tangle of brush and almost invisible trails. When we stopped we camped on the eastern side of the mountain. Even though it was May it was cold and I was glad that I had my cloak. Juan was confident enough to light a fire. He laughed when I questioned him about lighting one, “Milord, the French will see the fire and assume it is a trap for us to collect more of their crown jewels. They will lock their doors and pray to God that the guerrillas do not come in the night.”
When we awoke, I saw the town of Talavera in the distance. The town was protected on one side by the Tagus. The centre was higher than the plain before it. I could not see a town wall nor any fortifications. All looked good. Using my telescope, I also spied the French camp. It was huge with horse lines and an artillery park but did not look as though there were fifty thousand men there.
As we headed towards the town I said, “Juan, there are not fifty thousand men there.”
“No, milord. There are other camps closer to Madrid and the garrison of Madrid as well. I can tell you that there are four armies within thirty miles of here.”
I nodded, “We will not need to get too close to the French. If there is a piece of high ground I can count from there.”
He looked relieved, “Good, then we just need to advance another ten miles or so and we can see their whole camp.”
When we found the spot he had described, we dismounted and I took out my telescope. Sharp took down my words as I dictated the numbers of men, pieces of ordnance and horses we saw. There were two Corps as well as more cavalry than I had ever seen in my life. I estimated it at more than eight thousand horsemen. That was more than Napoleon had had in Egypt.
Perhaps we were complacent or more likely careless but the Chasseurs who galloped towards us were less than a mile away when we saw them. They must have seen us and approached using the dead ground between us. It was Miguel who spotted them, “Milord! The French!”
The three of us heeded Miguel’s words. I jammed my telescope into its sheath and mounted Donna. I made certain that the other three were mounted and I spurred my horse. There are men who can ride and there are riders. Miguel and Juan could ride. The Chasseurs were riders as were Sharp and I. Inexorably the French Chasseurs closed with us. Our advantage was that we were heading uphill and we knew where we were going. The French would have the nagging doubt that we were leading them into an ambush. It was a depleted troop which followed us. I was able to glance around and I estimated that there were no more than twenty of them. They must have travelled four or five miles to reach us. I hoped our horses were in better condition than theirs. I was not certain.
Juan and Miguel were going much mor
e slowly than we were. Sharp and I had to rein in to allow them to keep up with us. We had our Bakers loaded and, after two miles of the chase, I slowed, “Juan, Miguel, keep on riding. We will try to slow them.”
“No, milord. There is no honour in that.”
“We are better riders and we have the superior horses. We will catch you. I beg you to heed my words.”
He nodded.
“Sharp, we turn and face them. Two shots from our Bakers should make them wary and slow them. The rest will help our horses and we can still catch Juan.”
“Aye, sir.”
We wheeled. The Chasseurs were four hundred paces from us. They did not see two cavalrymen. They saw two of Wellesley’s messengers and they spurred their horses assuming that our horses were spent and that we had been abandoned by our guides. The two leading riders were the officer and the senior sergeant. They would be our targets. We dismounted and used our horses to steady our rifles. They were two hundred paces away. I said, “At one hundred and fifty paces we fire!”
“Yes, sir!”
I aimed at the officer’s horse. If, as I expected, the ball rose then I would hit the officer. If not, then the horse would fall. The result would be the same. I fired at the same time as Alan. My gun fired true. I hit the horse in the skull and it died immediately. It tumbled over and threw the officer. Sharp hit the sergeant who fell and was dragged along the rough ground by his stirrup. We mounted and galloped. I did not turn around. When I heard carbines popping behind us then I knew they had stopped their pursuit. They could not ride and fire. I glanced around. They were four hundred paces from us and gathered around their sergeant and officer.