The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon - Страница 103
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‘Here, sir. We found this on the body of a French colonel.’
‘What is it, Richard?’ Alten asked.
‘Orders, sir. From the divisional commander. I thought you’d want ’em as soon as possible.’
The major nodded and turned away to trot back down the slope to re-join his men. Alten drew the slim sheaf of papers from the satchel and scanned the contents. At once his eyes widened and he turned to Arthur.
‘Orders from Joseph’s headquarters, sir! Dated yesterday. He’s called every available unit to fall back to a new position.’
‘Where?’ asked Arthur, his heart quickening.
‘A town on the Royal Road not far ahead, my lord. A place called Vitoria.’
Chapter 40
21 June 1813
The clouds had lifted and the sky was clear, and the air barely stirred in the morning sunshine. There was a clear view of the valley through which the Zadorra river meandered eastwards towards Vitoria. The day before, Arthur had ridden round the hills to the north of the valley to survey the French positions and make his plans, and he was relieved to see that the French army was still camped in three lines between the river and the Heights of Puebla to the south. The enemy pickets had raised the alarm at dawn when they had seen the first of Arthur’s men marching through the gorge into the valley, and now the French stood waiting. The dark lines of infantry and cavalry all faced to the west to meet the approaching threat.
Arthur smiled with grim satisfaction as he surveyed the enemy’s dispositions from the hillside above the village of Nanclares. Marshal Jourdan had played into his hands. The French assumed that they would be facing a frontal attack and that the river and the Heights would provide adequate protection on each flank. As before, they had failed to account for the audacity of the allied army. Arthur’s plan was simple enough, he reflected, as he trained his telescope across the valley. He had divided his army into four columns. General Hill’s corps of English, Spanish and Portuguese troops would begin the battle by assaulting the Heights of Puebla, working their way along the ridge to threaten the left flank of the French battle lines. The main body of the army would be directly under Arthur’s control and they would be tasked with making a frontal assault across the river. Two more divisions, under General Dalhousie, had set off before dawn to make their way round the hills to the north of the valley and then attack the enemy’s right flank. The fourth column, commanded by General Graham, had the furthest to march, passing through the same hills but striking further round to cut off the French from any attempt to escape towards the frontier. A smaller Spanish column was tasked with blocking the final remaining route out of the valley. If all went according to plan the French would be trapped and forced to surrender, or be cut to pieces.
No plan was without its danger, Arthur knew, and this one depended on each column making its attack at the same time so that the French were disrupted by having to meet each threat. If the attacks were delivered piecemeal then Marshal Jourdan would be able to defeat each one in turn. If that happened then the allies would be forced to retreat, and Arthur had little doubt that he would be dismissed from his command by the politicians back in London.
He took a last look through his telescope towards Vitoria. The town was surrounded by thousands of wagons and carriages. His spies reported that many of the wagons were packed with valuables from the royal palace in Madrid: paintings, tapestries, gold, silver and jewellery. More important, a bullion convoy had recently joined the baggage train gathering at Vitoria. The allied army needed the gold to pay for supplies and it was Arthur’s intention to capture the baggage train intact, before it could escape, or be ransacked by his victorious army.
‘It’s eight o’clock, my lord,’ Somerset announced, breaking into Arthur’s thoughts.
‘Yes.’ Arthur nodded. ‘Then be so good as to have the signal gun fired.’
Somerset saluted and then raised his hat and waved it slowly from side to side. Further down the slope a single gun stood ready. As soon as the officer saw Somerset’s gesture he cupped a hand to his mouth and ordered his gun to fire. Flame and smoke spat from its muzzle and a loud boom echoed around the valley.
That was it then, Arthur mused silently. He was committed now. All four columns would have heard the gun and begun to carry out their orders. Already he could see the leading elements of Hill’s column climbing the western slope of the Heights of Puebla, towards the detachment of enemy soldiers on the crest. Within the half-hour the French had realised the danger to their flank and two battalions set off to climb the Heights and block Hill’s progress along the ridge.
The faint crackle of musketry carried to Arthur’s ears as he watched the brief skirmish between the Spaniards leading the attack and the French detachment. Then the tiny figures of the enemy soldiers broke away and began to retreat to the east.
‘First blood to us, my lord,’ Somerset remarked. ‘Though I think General Morillo’s men will find the next French position somewhat harder to carry.’
Arthur nodded as he looked at the enemy soldiers formed up across the ridge. Already, two more battalions from the second line had started to climb the slope to form another line to block the advance of Hill’s column. ‘That may be so, but Marshal Jourdan is doing as I hoped he would. Let him become preoccupied with his left flank and he will be undone in due course. Send word to Hill to extend his attack along the lower slopes. The more we can do to draw the enemy’s attention towards Hill’s column, the better.’
As the morning wore on the fighting along the Heights intensified as the men on both sides fought it out across the slopes, which were strewn with boulders and stunted bushes. The French steadily fed more men into the fight, weakening the centres of the first two battle lines. At eleven o’clock, Arthur saw the third line of the French army redeploying to face the north as it began to cross the river.
‘See there?’ Arthur raised his arm and pointed the movement out to Somerset. ‘The French must have spotted Graham’s fellows.’
Somerset tilted his head slightly and strained his ears for a moment. ‘I cannot hear any sounds of firing to the east, my lord.’
‘Nor I. That is to be expected. Graham’s orders were not to begin his attack until after Dalhousie emerged from the hills.’ Arthur frowned. ‘Where the devil is Dalhousie? He and Picton should have reached the river by now.’
‘Do you wish me to try to find them, my lord?’
‘Not yet. They are sure to appear soon. Meanwhile, it is time that we attacked the front of the French line.’ Arthur gestured to the wooded slopes to his left where the Light Division was waiting for the order to advance.‘Order Alten to move forward to the river. They are to take the bridge at Villodas and begin crossing to the far bank. Cole’s division is to cross here at Nanclares.’
By the time that the orders had been given and the two divisions were advancing, the sound of cannon fire was echoing across the valley from the east. Through his telescope Arthur could see banks of powder smoke forming either side of the river as Graham’s column began to contest the crossings north of Vitoria. He swept his telescope to examine the hills to his left and muttered a curse when he could still see no sign of Dalhousie’s men. If they did not appear soon and divert the enemy’s attention then Marshal Jourdan would be able to meet the attack of the Light Division and Cole’s division with every available man and cannon.
‘Somerset, send an officer to find Dalhousie. Tell the general to cross the river and engage the enemy at once. I’m riding forward to that knoll there, by Villodas.’
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