The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon. Страница 104

Somerset stared towards the village and saw that there were still Frenchmen defending the small cluster of houses that made up the village. Pairs of riflemen were rushing from cover to cover as they closed in on the Frenchmen amid a steady, uneven crackle of gunfire. Somerset cleared his throat. ‘My lord, isn’t that a little too close to the fighting?’

‘Can’t be helped,’ Arthur replied as he grasped the reins and urged his horse forward. ‘I must have a better view of the battlefield.’

He nudged his spurs in and the horse cantered forward across the lush green grass of a meadow, where a handful of goats that had evaded the French foragers scattered at his approach. He passed between two regiments of the Light Division and the men raised a hearty cheer as he rode by. Shortly before he reached the knoll he came across General Alten and his small staff.

‘Good day, my lord.’ Alten touched the brim of his hat.

Arthur returned the greeting and indicated the top of the knoll. ‘Ride with me, Alten.’

They urged their horses up the slope and reined in at the top where they had a clear view of the village below and the old stone bridge over the Zadorra. No more than two hundred yards ahead the rifles were still duelling with the French skirmishers. At the sight of the two British officers a number of muskets were pointed in their direction and a handful of shots whipped through the air close by. Arthur felt the familiar tightening of his guts but forced himself to retain his calm facade.

‘The Light Division will cross the river and form a line to the south, linking up with Cole’s men once they have crossed at Nanclares. Then both divisions will advance on the French line.’

Alten cocked an eyebrow. ‘Two divisions against the main French battle line? As you wish, my lord.’ He scanned the dense enemy formations waiting less than a mile beyond the river. ‘A frontal attack will cost us dearly.’

‘It will, but there is no alternative. The French will have men and guns covering every available crossing point. We must cross here and prepare to attack.’

Alten puffed his cheeks and nodded. He was about to reply when the sound of hoofbeats from behind caused both men to turn. Somerset was galloping up the slope to catch up with his commander. A short distance behind him rode General Alava and another man, a Spanish peasant, on a small pony. Somerset reined in and saluted Arthur.

‘Who the devil is that?’ Arthur gestured towards the peasant as the other two riders joined them.

‘My lord, if I may?’ Alava broke in before Somerset could reply.‘This man is Jose Ortiz de Zarate. He owns a farm by the river over there, near the village of Tres Puentes.’ Alava pointed to the north where the river curled round the slopes of a small hill on the far bank.

‘Well, that’s very nice for Seсor Zarate, I am sure,’ Arthur replied tersely. ‘But what of it?’

‘He says that the bridge there is undefended. There is not a Frenchman within a mile of it.’

Arthur stared at the peasant, and then looked towards the village, which was all but obscured by the hill. There was no sign of the bridge. Arthur felt a sudden thrill of excitement as he turned back towards General Alava. ‘Ask our friend if that hill masks the bridge from where the French are positioned.’

There was a hurried exchange before Alava turned back to Arthur. ‘He says it does. Or at least he could not see the French when he stood on the far end of the bridge less than an hour ago.’

Arthur fixed Zarate with a steely glare. ‘He is sure that there are no French soldiers nearby? And that the bridge has not had charges set beneath it?’

‘He says he is certain of it, my lord.’

Arthur’s pulse quickened as he viewed the ground and the positions of both armies in his mind’s eye. Then he nodded his thanks to the Spanish farmer. ‘Tell Seсor Zarate that if he is right, then he has done his people a fine service.’

The Spaniard stiffened proudly in his saddle as the words were translated, then Arthur continued. ‘Ask him if he would be prepared to guide our men to the bridge. If he knows the lie of the land then we may need him once we gain the far bank. Tell him I will reward him greatly if we win the day.’

The farmer bowed his head graciously and then made a short speech.

‘He says that he needs no reward. It will be enough to have played his part in defeating the French. However,’Alava could not help smiling, ‘Seсor Zarate would not dream of causing any offence by turning down your offer of a reward.’

‘Hah!’ Arthur barked out a laugh. ‘Very well. Alten!’

‘Sir?’

‘I’ll take Kempt’s brigade over the river by Seсor Zarate’s bridge. If he’s right then we will appear on the enemy’s flank before the French can react. With Cole and the rest of the Light Division pressing them from the front there is every chance that we can break through the right flank. Somerset, I must know the moment we have any word of Dalhousie’s column. Meanwhile, order the cavalry forward to Tres Puentes. Let’s be about our business, gentlemen.’

While Alten’s men chased the French out of Villodas and began to cross to the far bank, Arthur and the three regiments of Kempt’s brigade hurried north, following the river as it bent round the hill. General Alava and Zarate rode with him as he galloped ahead of the infantry, sweating as they double-timed towards the bridge. As they came round the bend and saw the bridge ahead Arthur felt a surge of relief to see that there was still no sign of anyone at either end. A short distance beyond lay the village of Tres Puentes, where a handful of figures had emerged from the shelter of their homes to stare across the river at the battle being fought along the Heights to the south.

‘Come!’ Arthur waved the other two on and they galloped to the bridge, and then a short distance beyond to a small rise by the river where Arthur had a clear view of the enemy line. He reined in and Copenhagen’s flanks bellowed as the horse recovered its breath. The extreme right of the French line was less than half a mile away. Already they had been spotted by a French artillery officer, who gestured towards the three horsemen. A moment later the end gun was turned towards them. Arthur ignored the gun as he strained his eyes towards the Heights of Puebla. A pall of smoke indicated the extent to which Hill had pushed back the enemy, past the end of the enemy’s left flank. Soon they would have to divert yet more men to hold their position, or fall back. To the east, the rumble of cannon indicated that General Graham was heavily engaged with the French forces holding the line of the river to the north of Vitoria.

There was a boom from the far bank as the French gun opened fire. Then a thud as a column of earth lifted up from the river bank, twenty paces to Arthur’s right. Zarate flinched and then, seeing that Arthur and Alava seemed utterly unperturbed, he hastily straighted up and composed his expression to match theirs.

‘That’s the spirit.’ Arthur smiled at him. ‘Never show the enemy you are afraid, eh? General, ask our friend if he knows whether the other bridges along the river are in French hands.’

‘He says that the next bridge to the east is guarded by some infantry and six cannon. Beyond that bridge he does not know.’

That would be the bridge that Dalhousie’s column would be using to launch its attack on the flank and rear of the enemy line, Arthur reflected. He glanced to his left but there was still no sign of any movement immediately to the east. He was aware of a distant flash out of the corner of his eye as the French gun fired again.

‘Ask Zarate if there are any—’

Arthur was interrupted by a wet crack and a splattering sound. He turned and saw the body of the Spanish farmer in the saddle, the hands tensed like claws. His head was gone, smashed apart by the second shot from the enemy gun. General Alava had caught the worst of the spray of blood and brains, which had spattered one side of his body and face. The corpse slowly toppled to the side and thudded on to the river bank.