The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon - Страница 70

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Chapter 27

Salamanca, 22 July 1812

‘Typical of those underhand American rascals.’ Somerset spoke with acid contempt as he read the despatch that had reached the army at first light. Just over a month earlier President Madison had declared war on Britain. Since Britain had only a handful of soldiers in Canada at the time the opportunist nature of the war was clear to all. ‘I tell you, my lord, this is a day that will live in infamy. They attack us when our back is turned and we are fighting to save the world from a tyrant.’

‘Yes, yes, a pox on them all,’Arthur muttered, doing his best to ignore his aide’s ire as he contemplated the implications of the news. ‘You can be sure that the army in Canada will now have first call on reinforcements. An ill day for us here in Spain, that is for certain. But for now we have other matters upon which to concentrate our minds.’ Arthur nodded across the valley to the opposite ridge where Marmont’s soldiers were exchanging fire with a handful of riflemen defending a small chapel beside the road to Salamanca.

For most of the last five days the two armies had been marching alongside each other, sometimes separated by no more than two hundred yards, as if they were in a race. And it had been a race of sorts, Arthur reflected. Marmont had been driving his men on in an attempt to pull ahead of the allies and then turn to cut them off from Salamanca, on ground of Marmont’s choosing. For his part,Arthur had been urging his men to reach Salamanca first, and keep open their line of communication to Ciudad Rodrigo.

In the end, the allies had won the race, crossing the river Tormes some miles east of Salamanca the day before. After a night’s rest, Arthur had given the order for the baggage train to take the road to Ciudad Rodrigo while the army covered the retreat. Escorted by a Portuguese cavalry unit, the baggage train was obscured by a haze of dust as it headed away. Arthur had given orders for his men to form up on the reverse slope of a roughly horseshoe-shaped hill overlooking a valley, on the far side of which was a corresponding hill formation that curved round the first. In between was a tall free-standing hill known as the Greater Arapil, as it was marginally taller than the hill upon which Arthur sat with his staff observing the movements of Marmont’s army. Earlier that morning a French division had seized the hill and now, as they saw the English commander and his staff, some of them waved.

Arthur did not feel in any mood for levity. The most recent report from his scouts revealed that King Joseph was little more than a day’s march to the east of Marmont, and another column of reinforcements was a similar distance to the north. Today would be the last chance to fight on roughly equivalent terms. After that, the allied army would have no choice but to retreat to the fortress of Ciudad Rodrigo. So far Marshal Marmont had shown no sign of wanting to fight and Arthur’s men looked like spending the whole day without shade on the reverse slope of the ridge.

A movement caught Somerset’s eye and he turned towards a nearby farmhouse, surrounded by a low wall. One of the junior staff officers was waving his hat. Somerset raised his in reply and then prepared to address his commander, somewhat unnerved by Arthur’s irascible mood.

‘My lord, Lieutenant Henderson has managed to secure a light meal for us.’

‘What?’ Arthur glanced round. ‘What’s that?’

Somerset pointed to the farm. ‘I sent Henderson to organise some food, my lord. Neither you nor the staff officers have eaten today, and it’s nearly two in the afternoon. We can eat and still keep an eye on the enemy from there.’

Arthur thought a moment and then nodded. ‘Very well, but mind the food is eaten quickly. I’ll not be caught napping by Marmont simply because my officers have decided to have a picnic.’

The small party trotted across the ridge towards the farmhouse. Inside the wall two long trestle tables and benches had been set out. A large platter of cooked chicken, some baskets of bread, and jugs of wine with clay cups had been laid out by the farmer and he smiled as he waved his guests towards the table. Somerset and the others slid down from their saddles and eagerly took a seat and began to eat. Arthur did not dismount, but took out his telescope from the saddle bucket to take another look at the enemy. The French were still deploying on the other ridge but seemed to have made no attempt to prepare for an attack on the division straddling the road to Salamanca, the only large formation that the enemy could see.

‘Would you care for something to eat, my lord?’

Arthur lowered his telescope and saw that Somerset had brought him a chicken quarter and the end of a loaf of bread. He did not feel hungry, but knew that he needed to eat, and besides, he did not want to spoil the appetite of his subordinates by his example.

‘Just the chicken, if you please.’

Somerset passed it up and Arthur forced himself to take a bite out of the cold joint. It had been hurriedly fried and the meat was slippery in his gloved hand. Somerset returned to the table and helped himself to a cup of wine as he joined the other officers happily satisfying their hunger and slaking their thirst after sitting in the saddle, under the sun, for the last few hours. Arthur watched them for a moment, mechanically biting at the chicken, chewing and swallowing. Then he walked his horse towards the wall so that he would have a better view of the enemy-held ridge to the south, opposite the centre of his line.

At first he was not certain what he was seeing. It made little sense. He raised his telescope with his spare hand and trained it on the ridge. Sun-browned grass swam across his field of vision, then he carefully tracked up the slope until he could make out an enemy division marching hurriedly along to the west. Beyond them marched a regiment of cavalry, the sun glinting off their helmets.

‘What the devil is Marmont up to?’ Arthur muttered to himself. He swept his telescope along the line of march and saw that it continued all the way back to the main French position. All told it looked as if three divisions were making their way across the front of the allied position. Such was the enemy’s hurry that their formations were dangerously extended. Then Arthur grasped what was going through his opponent’s mind. Marmont could only see a handful of men on the Lesser Arapil and the division blocking the Salamanca road. He had mistaken the great cloud of dust being kicked up by the baggage train for the allied army in full retreat, and now he was hoping to outflank, cut off and destroy what he took to be Arthur’s rearguard.

Arthur felt an icy flush of excitement in his veins as he realised that the battle on advantageous terms that he had been seeking was upon him, but only if he acted swiftly. Hurling the chicken aside he turned to his staff officers.

‘Mount up, gentlemen! At once!’

The imperative tone of his command had the desired effect and they jumped up from the benches, abandoning their food and wine. As they climbed into their saddles Arthur was already calling out his orders, as calmly as he could to ensure that there were no mistakes.

‘The French are on the move.’ He gestured towards the far ridge. ‘Marmont aims to work round our position. The army is to prepare to attack as soon as possible. Gentlemen, ride out to every division and have them make ready. Somerset!’

‘Sir?’

‘Stay here and be ready to report to me the moment I return.’

‘Where are you going, my lord?’ Somerset asked anxiously.

‘Why, to close the trap, of course!’ Arthur grinned exuberantly, and then spurred his mount into a gallop as he raced along the ridge, heading towards the extreme right of the allied line. The Third Division, now commanded by Kitty’s younger brother Edward Pakenham, had been tasked with holding the flank and was perfectly positioned for what Arthur had in mind. As the track leading towards the Salamanca road began to angle to the right and down the reverse slope, Arthur glanced to his left to make sure that the French were still advancing to the south, and was gratified by the glint as the sun caught their polished accoutrements in a shimmering sparkle.

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