A Mild Case of Indigestion

by Geoffrey Watson

  There was little to choose between them. Even their reading and writing skills were similar; just about good enough to qualify them for their chevrons as sergeants. What finally influenced the decision was Atkins’s willingness to learn enough words of spanish to make himself understood by the partisans, while Dodds remained determinedly monolingual.

  Atkins was told to sew on a fourth chevron and Hickson was confirmed as sergeant; the acting rank that MacKay had given him. Perhaps it could be considered as a double promotion for Hickson, as Isabella had chosen her time well to issue an ultimatum. With the Condesa expressing her approval in forceful terms and Hickson more than amenable, they managed to persuade the army Chaplain to perform a brief marriage ceremony before he left.

  Welbeloved growled a lot, but agreed to stand in place of her father, while Dolores acted as bridesmaid. The bride was resplendent in the gown that the Condesa had worn the night before. Much hasty modification had been completed in the early hours, by the nimble fingers of Isabella and Dolores. The Condesa was only slightly above average height, but that was three inches more than Isabella.

  The Hornets provided a guard of honour and much local wine had appeared fortuitously from somewhere, to toast the newly-weds. Vere slipped away quietly after the ceremony to join his new master. Sir Arthur had planned a visit to the Hornets before he left, to thank them personally for their efforts. It was no coincidence that his visit, primed by Vere, should take place just as the first toasts were being made.

  He had acquired a reputation for being quite reserved in public, although Welbeloved had heard stories of his liking for the ladies. Certainly, he bent over Mercedes’s hand again quite formally, but then went on to kiss the bride and bridesmaid most enthusiastically, before insisting on toasting the happy couple and including a toast to the Hornets, then riding away to follow his retreating army.

  The Hornets always knew they were an elite unit. They knew that they were better than any of the other units in any of the armies throughout Europe. They had also had a grandstand seat from which they watched this General smash every attack the French had made. His visit to them had not been expected, but they knew that they deserved it and that it fitted in with everything they considered right and proper. Nevertheless, it would be a brave or foolish man in the future that said anything detrimental about Sir Arthur Wellesley in their presence.

  Welbeloved still had fond memories of his first wife; the young girl from Genoa that he had rescued from slavery in Syria. He still could not say with honesty, that he had loved her, but there had never been any doubt in her mind. She had been beautiful, voluptuous and passionate and their first night together had been – well – noisy!!

  He thought that Isabella just might have a similar latin temperament and thoughtfully arranged for their tent to be pitched in a secluded area, well away from the rest of the men.

  He was right. He was also wrong in his estimate of how far sound carried at night against the wind. His other mistake was in not considering the effect that the distant sounds would have on Mercedes. He was grateful on two counts. As his tent was pitched quite close to those of his men, one of those counts was that his wife was enormously passionate without having to shout about it.

  ***

  The despatches and orders gleaned from the dragoons made it clear that the provincial Capital and ancient university city of Salamanca was not only the primary destination for Soult’s army, it was one of the main garrisons for the French forces of occupation.

  MacKay took his men well clear of the city, riding southwest, close to the border with Portugal. Although fully on the alert for enemy patrols, they crossed the Duero and the Tormes without trouble and did not linger at Ciudad Rodrigo once they were given speculative information about the whereabouts of the British army.

  This region was still under Spanish control and everywhere they rode, their distinctive uniforms were recognised with great shows of enthusiasm. The nine, green-clad amazons seemed set to become part of the legend, or even a separate legend of their own as they rode in a tight bunch, armed to the teeth and trying to look fierce and warlike whenever they had a suitable audience.

  MacKay was quietly amused at the pretension, though he didn’t doubt for a moment the martial qualities roused in these abused girls; even in the three latest recruits, or perhaps specially in the latter three.

  The river Tajo was broad and calm when they reached it. Early in August, the water level was as low as it was likely to get before the autumn and winter rains in the mountains swelled it again. They turned east and rode for most of the day without seeing any signs of military activity.

  The next morning they found out why when they reached Arzobispo and found British and Portuguese troops pouring across the bridge onto the south bank and marching away west towards the frontier.

  It was gratifying that many of the marching men recognised their uniforms and called out greetings, while the girls were met with surprised yells and friendly cat-calls, not to mention numerous amorous proposals. As these were usually in some regional dialect, the words, if not the meaning were largely beyond the grasp of their newly acquired english. The roar of good-natured laughter that boomed out after a large grenadier reached out to caress Juanita’s thigh, became even louder when he leaped back away from the knife that instantly appeared in her hand, pricking his throat. The flashing smile that accompanied the movement, showed that no malice was intended and provoked cheers and ribald shouts directed at the grenadier, who marched on with a huge grin on his face.

  They made their way against the flow of marching men and riders until halted by a sudden bellow. “Hamish! Hamish MacKay! Am I glad to see you before we crossed the river and missed you? But what’s this? Are you starting a personal harem? Is this what you learned from the Turks at Acre?”

  A year or two back and MacKay would have been embarrassed. Now he just grinned wickedly and stifled an impulse to call Vere Sir, as he would have done as a sergeant. Now he held the King’s commission and was almost as much of a gentleman as Vere himself.

  Perhaps not quite as much he thought as he viewed Vere’s new insignia of rank. Nevertheless, “It’s guid tae see you too, George. Is it a regiment we hae become since you rode south?” He pointed at the crown on Vere’s cuff.

  Vere pulled his horse alongside and grimaced. I was unfortunate enough to upset the cavalry during the battle and Sir Arthur said he wants me here where he can keep his eye on me in future. You are now second-in-command of the Hornets, Hamish.”

  MacKay had just enough time to ask, “What battle…?” when a loud voice broke in. “Come now, Lord George. You told me it was facts that you had been trained to report. You are embroidering, Sir!”

  Vere looked round and grinned. “Only a little, Sir Arthur. Might I name Lieutenant MacKay, Sir. Fresh from annoying Soult in Galicia, unless I miss my guess.”

  MacKay pulled his bonnet off. “Your servant, Sir Arthur.”

  Wellesley nodded and raised his hand half way towards his plain cocked hat. “Good day to you, MacKay. Is it correct that you have been in contact with the French in Galicia?”

  “Aye, Sir. Though that was three days ago. Their army was still in the mountains, but moving slowly towards Salamanca. I hae my report for Colonel Welbeloved and some orders and despatches frae Marshal Soult, which his dragoons had nae further use for.”

  Wellesley looked around. “Let us move away from the road. This would be a good opportunity for a bite of lunch while I see what MacKay has brought.”

  His staff bustled about while he led the way to a clear area, dismounted and watched while MacKay directed the Hornets to wait nearby and take their own midday break. Wellesley noticed the girls for the first time and watched wide-eyed as they dismounted, drew their carbines and slung them round their shoulders, then set about breaking out whatever rations they had.

  “Is that what you meant, Lord George, when I overheard you talking about a harem? I hope that is not what you intended.


  “There were only six of them when I saw MacKay last, Sir Arthur. The extra three was what I was ribbing him about and I would wager they are there for the same reason as the others. The six of them were all being raped by a troop of cavalry when we rescued them, fortunately before they could be massacred with the rest of their village. That child who was bridesmaid, suffered along with them.”

  Wellesley grunted. “I think that comes under the heading of things that I don’t need to know about officially. You can tell me about it later, privately. Now, what do I need to know about MacKay before he joins us?”

  “Very briefly, Sir. He was a Marine. Learned his fieldcraft in the Scottish Highlands. Been with the Colonel since before Acre. Better Hornet than I am. Nearly as good as Welbeloved – absolutely deadly.”

  “Umph! Perhaps I should take him instead of you, if he’s that good?”

  “No, Sir Arthur. The Colonel wouldn’t release him. I told you he is better than me.”

  Wellesley was still laughing as MacKay joined them, clutching a handful of papers.

  He put them down one by one on the camp table that had been set up. “These are despatches from Marshal Soult. These are original orders from Soult to Colonel Roussillon, commanding a regiment of dragoons.” Vere’s eyebrows twitched at the name. “This is my report to Colonel Welbeloved covering the period starting when he left us to come looking for you. I submit that the despatches and orders will be of more immediate interest to you, Sir. I am assuming that Hickson has delivered the despatches we took off Rabuteau.”

  Wellesley smiled. “Yes, we have seen those and I must say I like your naval phrasing, MacKay. They always submit when addressing senior officers. I am forever thinking how fortunate we are that they don’t do it to the enemy.”

  He picked up the despatches and orders. “Please God that these are not in code,” then a smile as he read the contents and a shrewd look at MacKay as he passed them to Vere.

  “I picked up immediately on your comment on the lack of urgency that Soult was showing. Is that how you interpreted these documents?”

  “Aye, Sir, that and the dilatory way his army is moving. I’ve never seen the Frogs moving sae idly. It’s most un-French.”

  Wellesley nodded. “It is that.” He took his time reading MacKay’s report and again passed it to Vere, while studying MacKay thoughtfully. “How many men did Colonel Welbeloved leave with you, Lieutenant?”

  “Eighteen including myself, Sir.” Vere interposed quickly. “Three of them were wounded, Hamish. Don’t give the wrong impression.” MacKay nodded, poker faced. “That would be fifteen fit men, Sir Arthur.”

  “How many were in the French garrison, Lieutenant?”

  MacKay threw a quick glance at Vere. “One hundred and twenty, second line troops and the same number of drivers and escort, but we did hae aboot sixty partisans and took oot all the enemy sentries before they knew we were there.”

  Wellesley was looking somewhat bemused. He turned the rest of the sheets slowly. “I know how many men are needed to serve twelve guns and I know how many make a regiment of dragoons. I don’t know where your ideas of justice and retribution lead you. I just commend your good sense in encouraging your partisan friends to claim the credit. I also thank the Lord that you and your men are fighting with us and not against us.”

  He handed back the copy of MacKay’s report. “I am most obliged to you MacKay. I suspected that Soult was to my north but thought that he might be closer than you have said. It means that the priority now is to find food and provisions for my army rather than to prepare to fight another French army.

  Addressing Vere again. “Lord George, I would like you to find your friend, Anstruthers. Tell him where we think the French are now and require him to take his new command north, at least as far as Ciudad Rodrigo as a reconnaissance. I confide he will welcome the opportunity to continue training his men, free from the restrictions that travelling with the army imposes.”

  He dismissed MacKay. “My gratitude, once more, Lieutenant. When Lord George returns, I will ask him to accompany you for as long as is necessary to hear a complete account of your recent adventures and to hand you a letter for Colonel Welbeloved. We will hope to be in the vicinity of Badajoz should he need to communicate.”

  MacKay stood and saluted. “Thank you Sir. Mayhap he will also tell us the outcome of the battle he was speaking about when we met. Judging frae the guid spirits of the men, you must hae gi’en the Frogs a licking?”

  Wellesley looked amused. “Indeed, MacKay, we had a victory, but it was close-run. Vere will give you an account when he catches up with you.”

  The Hornets packed up and continued eastward along the bank of the Tajo. They had watched the flurry of activity as aides galloped off to amend the orders to the commanders of the army and they hadn’t passed the rearguard on their way before Vere caught up and rode with them until they made camp for the night.

  They found a secluded and defensible area among the low hills to the north of the river, with views of the Guadalupe and Toledo mountains, ten miles across the river to the south. The girls were sufficiently experienced by now to stand piquet and Juanita posted them for the first watch, so that Vere could bring all the men up to date with his account of the battle and his meetings with the leader of the guerrilleros in the hills north of Talavera.

  In return, MacKay gave a blow by blow account of everything his Hornets and El Martillo’s men had done to the French since Welbeloved had ridden south.

  They were still debating the issue of justice and the execution of Roussillon’s officers until well after midnight. Vere was putting forward the views of his new commander and was at a disadvantage, because he personally approved of everything that MacKay had done.

  It was a fine point that Sir Arthur had made. He regarded the Hornets as part of the armed forces of the British Crown. As such, any French soldiers they captured were prisoners of war. If they started to execute prisoners of war, the French were likely to retaliate and that was in no one’s interest.

  MacKay could see the sense in the argument but pointed out the large numbers of prisoners that they had released without harm, other than to their dignity. They agreed to a compromise. In future, if any French soldier was caught committing a crime for which a British soldier would have been hanged, he would be handed over to the partisans or killed in a way that would not be seen to be an execution. The French invariably executed any partisan or armed civilian that they caught, so there was no question of retaliation becoming an issue.

  Vere left at daybreak and MacKay took his men on the last leg of the journey to rejoin the Hornets. The large cloud of dust in front of them after only a couple of miles, sent them seeking cover in the hills until they could identify the cause.

  The first of the vanguard appeared almost immediately. A squadron of Spanish cavalry was leading a mass exodus. The whole of the Army of Estremadura was hot on the heels of Wellesley and the British.

  It was unexpected. Vere had described the battle, in which General Cuesta and his army had hardly been engaged. Now they were hastening; not actually running; after Wellesley and apparently leaving Talavera to Welbeloved. There was also the question of the British wounded. There were fifteen hundred wounded men left in Cuesta’s care and MacKay could see no sign of ambulance wagons as the Hornets forced their way through the thousands of men hurrying westward.

  No one they questioned could give any explanation for the movement and the guards around the massive closed carriage were barely civil. They confirmed that General Cuesta was inside but was not to be disturbed by anyone, particularly by a lowly English lieutenant and his band of peasants. Particularly any Englishman who was part of an army that was running away from the French and leaving its Spanish allies to face them alone.

  MacKay didn’t know whether to be more insulted by being called English, the reference to the Hornets as a band of peasants, or the unwarranted slur on the British army.

  CHAPTER
20

  Welbeloved watched from the camp on the slopes of the Medellin. The rearguard of the British army was moving out. A squadron of light dragoons was walking their horses behind companies of Craufurd’s light division. They were trying to avoid, while at the same time ignoring dozens of wounded men, hobbling and even crawling behind the retreating army, calling out desperately and piteously to be taken with them and not abandoned in Talavera.

  Many of them were still staggering along when the dust of the departing army had finally settled again. Parties of Spanish soldiers went out and escorted them back to the squalid quarters where a few army surgeons had remained behind to tend the large number of wounded and dying men.

  He turned away to a much happier scene. Mercedes was embracing a very smug Isabella, who had just emerged with her new husband and was engaged in preparing breakfast for the two of them from the diminishing store of supplies.

  Hickson was walking off to the latrine area, through a barrage of suggestive and envious comments that paid scant respect to his so recent elevation in rank.

  Welbeloved made his way out of the camp and seated himself on a small, round boulder overlooking the scene of the battle and the thousands of French corpses piled and scattered across the countryside. He was pleased that Vere had set the partisans to harvesting the muskets, equipment and unused ammunition before the swarm of townspeople and Spanish soldiers had had the opportunity to go out and strip the dead of everything of value.

  His greatest need at the moment was time to consider what best to do with his command. His masters at the Admiralty had given their support to the idea of a special Royal Marine strike force that could be landed from ships, do what had to be done and then get evacuated by sea. They had always been opposed to any venture inland and away from the direct control of their admirals.

  When the Hornets had first been raised, the Duke of York had taken an interest. At the time, he was busily engaged in forcing a widespread reform on the Army and had encouraged their first mission to Madrid.