The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon. Страница 12

Arthur felt his heart quicken. ‘Two days’ march. Has he been reinforced yet?’

‘No. The garrison of Madrid is still in the capital, or was when we last heard.’

‘Then Victor has some twenty thousand men in the field. I have almost the same. What is your present strength?’

‘Twenty-eight thousand infantry, and six thousand cavalry.’

‘Then we have him, by God!’ Arthur smiled. ‘It is likely that the French do not know that my army is here. If we can strike at Victor before he can retreat, or is reinforced, we can beat him. Tell your general that there is no time to waste. We must march east as soon as possible. We can both attack him on the morning of the twenty-third.’

Cuesta heard the translation and thought for a moment before he nodded and made his reply to O’Donoju.

‘It is agreed. We will attack Marshal Victor in two days’ time. His excellency says that you may help yourself to the French supplies after the battle is won.’

Back at his headquarters, in a small barn outside Oropesa, Arthur opened his eyes and glanced towards Somerset. He explained the intention to attack Marshal Victor and called for any maps featuring Talavera and the ground to the east of the town. With the map spread out across his campaign table Arthur stabbed his finger at the line marking the course of the river Alberche.

‘There. That’s where he is. That’s where he will be caught by us and our Spanish friends. I want the word passed down to all brigade commanders. We will be engaging the enemy in two days from now. We will outnumber Victor by nearly three to one. Have the men told that they will no longer have to tighten their belts once we have captured the enemy’s supplies. I’m sure that will please them.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Somerset nodded. ‘Provided that Marshal Victor holds his ground and does not decide to retreat.’

‘Why should he?’ Arthur smiled. ‘At the moment he assumes that he is faced by General Cuesta. I’m sure that Victor considers his twenty thousand more than a match for Cuesta’s thirty. He will welcome a battle. With luck he has no idea that we have added our strength to Cuesta’s. I think Marshal Victor may be in for the surprise of his life.’

‘I hope you are right, sir,’ Somerset replied. ‘For I fear that if we do not take Victor’s supplies then our men may well starve before they ever see Madrid.’

A thin sliver of moon hung in the star-speckled night sky and by its wan light Arthur surveyed the lines of his men, visible as the more uniform features in a landscape composed of little more than dark shades. The only spark of colour came from the sprinkling of camp fires on the far side of the Alberche river that marked the French picket line. Arthur felt a warm satisfaction in his heart that they had succeeded in closing on Marshal Victor without his being aware of the danger. Perhaps he had misjudged his Spanish allies, Arthur reflected. Following the meeting at Oropesa the two armies had advanced in parallel and made good time in their approach to the enemy position. As night had fallen, Arthur had led the British forward the last few miles to take up position opposite the enemy’s right flank. At the same time, General Cuesta would advance towards the opposite flank and make his headquarters at a small inn at Salcidas. Both armies should be in position by two in the morning and Arthur had conceded the honour of opening the attack to Cuesta. Three guns would be the signal for the attack to begin.

There was the clop of hooves as Somerset came up to report.‘All our men are in position, sir. The guns are deployed to cover the fords and General Hill sends his compliments and says the Second Division are champing at the bit.’

Arthur smiled. ‘Very good.’ He took out his watch, raised it close to his face and squinted to make out the hands. ‘Just after midnight. Send a message to Cuesta and tell him we are ready and waiting for his signal. Make sure that he confirms his army is in position. I don’t want our men to be facing Marshal Victor’s army on our own.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Oh, and tell him that all Spain will rejoice in today’s victory and that the name of Cuesta will be remembered for ever in the hearts of his people.’

Somerset was silent for a moment. ‘Isn’t that a bit vainglorious, sir?’

‘Of course, but if it helps to spur the old man into action then it’s worth it.’

‘Yes, sir. I’ll send the message at once.’

‘Thank you, Somerset.’

When his aide had left him Arthur again surveyed the lines of his men, and once more he recalled the ground he had seen late in the afternoon, when he had ridden forward in a plain brown coat and broad-brimmed hat to inspect the lie of the land. Leaving his small escort out of sight in a small grove of olive trees he had approached the bank of the river and casually trotted along its length to the junction with the Tagus. The French sentries on the far side had watched him, but paid no great attention to the lone horseman. Once he had identified the location of some of the fords, as well as the best routes to approach them without being detected, Arthur returned to the army and drew up his plan of attack.

Now, in the cool night air, all was calm and still. It was hard to believe that nearly twenty thousand men were poised to fight. At the moment they would be sitting in their companies, with their unloaded muskets at their sides. There was no talking as the order had been given for them to wait in complete silence so as not to alert the enemy as to their presence. The corporals and sergeants paced quietly up and down the lines ready to pounce on any man who uttered a word. Elsewhere the cavalry would be standing by their mounts, and aside from the odd scuffle of hooves and faint whinny, they too waited in quiet anticipation. The gunners, still hot and sweaty from their effort to wheel the guns into place as noiselessly as they could manage, stacked their ammunition a short distance from their cannon and carefully loaded the first round. Most men found the waiting intolerable, as every faint sound and movement of a shadow seemed threatening, and wore away at their nerves. Only a handful of fatalistic veterans, and a small number of men who had managed to suppress their nerves through surreptitious consumption of spirits, waited calmly.

Half an hour had passed when Arthur next checked his watch. With a click of his tongue he turned his horse to his right flank and made his way down the line, pausing every so often to exchange a quiet greeting with one of his officers and offer them a few words of encouragement. There was still no sign of the orderly who had been sent to find General Cuesta by the time Arthur reached the end of his battle line. He stopped his horse and strained his eyes to try to detect any sign of movement from the direction of Salcidas, but there was not enough light to make out anything more than the vaguest detail.

‘Damn, where is he?’ Arthur muttered. ‘Has the fool lost his way, I wonder?’

‘I doubt that, sir,’ Somerset replied. ‘I chose a good man to deliver the message. Cornet Davidson was confident he knew the ground well enough.’ He paused a moment. ‘It’s possible that General Cuesta may not have reached his position.’

Arthur turned to his aide. ‘By God, I hope you’re wrong. General Cuesta would have to be a consummate fool to let such an opportunity come to naught.’

He was about to continue when both men heard a distant clop of hooves and they turned to stare into the night. A figure on horseback emerged from the shadows.

‘Ours?’ Somerset whispered.

‘Only one way to tell,’ Arthur replied. He cleared his throat and called out, ‘Halt. Who goes there?’

The other rider reined in and hurriedly responded. ‘Cornet Davidson, of the Light Dragoons.’

‘Davidson, come here, man!’ Arthur called back.