A Despite of Hornets

by Geoffrey Watson

  They were the only travellers. Even in the villages and small towns, nothing was moving. The news of the defeat of the Spanish armies had already reached the country areas and everyone was keeping out of sight; peasants hiding their animals and produce as best they could and burying any small store of coins that they might have been able to save.

  When he estimated that they were within a mile or so of their target, Vere went on ahead with six men to search for troop movements, and the rearguard were closed up around the coach, which paused briefly to harness fresher horses to the shafts, ready for any eventuality. Palencia itself was a mile or so on the other side of the direct Burgos to Valladolid road, and as they approached the junction they realised how fine they had cut it. Vere sent a man back to slow their approach. The first of the French cavalry, feeling their way forward, searching ahead of the army for any contact with an enemy, had just passed south-west. A squadron of chevaux-léger-lanciers, the light cavalry of Napoleon’s armies, had disappeared towards Valladolid only a few minutes previously and the road was now briefly clear until the following heavier cavalry and other units could catch up.

  They took the road to Palencia at a canter, Vere having gone ahead again with his small troop, finding the town shuttered and silent, with the streets deserted. They clattered through unopposed, turning more northerly, following the river that was descending from the mountains of Cantabria.

  Welbeloved made a conscious effort to discipline himself. He had a feeling of vast relief, but remembered vividly how only a few hours before he had been happily contemplating resting in Burgos for the night, before a comparatively easy final dash to Santander and England. After those hopes had been dashed, he had gambled and won the first round, and now the odds were less heavily stacked against him. He reorganised his order of march, with more men out in front and pushed on up the river, aiming to rest at Saldaña, some forty miles farther to the north.

  The River Carrión, along which they were moving, was still low between its banks. Not much higher than it would have been at the beginning of summer, when the spring melt from the mountains had passed. Evening was approaching and the temperature was falling again. Soon he would have to decide whether they should stop for the night before he reached Saldaña. There really was no point in pressing on in the dark and risking riding through a village already occupied by the French.

  The road here was bounded by the river on the right and a heavily wooded slope on the left. He regarded it with a jaundiced eye. The sooner they could break out into more open country the better. He disliked being in a position where there was no room for manoeuvre. He glanced round at the coach. It was still moving at a reasonable speed even though the horses were tired. Perhaps they sensed that the end of their journey was close and were finding extra energy in anticipation. He had heard little from the passengers since they had started their dash to safety; just the sight of an occasional face at the windows. They too would be relieved to stop in the very near future.

  On a sudden impulse he kicked his unwilling horse into a canter, determined to catch up with his advance guard and instruct them to reconnoitre the first village or town that would offer shelter for the night. He was hardly started when the sound of galloping hooves brought him to a standstill and he waved back at the coach party to halt. Corporal Atkins reined in beside him and saluted. “Lieutenant Vere’s compliments sir, an’ there’s a party of ‘orsemen acomin’ this way. ‘E said to say ‘e thinks they’re Frogs sir.”

  Welbeloved prided himself on being a controlled and mild mannered man, but he swore violently. The goddess of fortune must have a malicious streak. The very place he would have chosen as least desirable to meet the enemy. He sent Atkins on to tell Vere to stay in contact with the French but to fall back slowly in front of them. Then he rode back to the coach and sent Sergeant MacKay with half-a-dozen men forward on foot, to take up positions in the trees ahead of the party.

  The coach was pulled in tight to the side of the road and the remainder of the squad took up positions to guard it. Faint popping noises in the distance showed that contact had been made and that the riflemen were giving the French something to think about. Welbeloved hoped that this was only a probing and scouting party and that they could be persuaded to withdraw if they felt that they were up against determined resistance. Certainly there was no way they could pass without a fight, and in the growing dusk he would favour his riflemen to convince the French commander that it would be folly to probe any farther before morning.

  As if to prove him wrong, a group of more than a dozen horsemen swept round the bend in the road and came charging towards him. Sudden though the onslaught was, his men reacted immediately and rifle fire erupted from the trees at the side of the road and from the men positioned round the coach. At least half the saddles emptied suddenly and the remainder reined in abruptly and galloped back the way they had come.

  He prayed that would be enough to show the futility of greater curiosity, but the French commander probably felt that Spanish forces would not stand up against a determined assault, and ten minutes later, between twenty and thirty horsemen came charging down the road. This time they were greeted by rifle fire from the trees all the way along the road. Welbeloved’s advance guard had retreated and placed themselves among the trees to enfilade any such move.

  Men and horses were falling everywhere and once again there was a precipitous retreat, leaving bodies of dead and wounded men and horses scattered over the road.

  It was as the last of the French were about to disappear back round the bend in the road that Welbeloved became aware of a commotion behind him. Shouts and cries of rage came from the direction of the coach. The next moment the coach itself, with the Marqués holding the reins, came galloping past as fast as he could urge the horses, to disappear after the French before there was time for him to react in any positive way.

  The action was so unexpected that he was at a complete loss for many seconds. He was still puzzling over all the possible motives of the Marqués as he got his brain actively working again and issued orders that sent half the men running back to bring the horses, and the other half to set off on foot to follow the coach and try and observe events.

  He reasoned that the French would probably be as mystified as he was, and that there would be a pause while they questioned the Marqués and the Condesa. He made the best speed possible, hugging the edges of the road and searching for the men he was certain the French would have posted to watch for him.

  Spotting those men would not be easy. They had been identified as a company of chasseurs à cheval, light cavalry who were also trained to harass the enemy on foot if necessary. Their uniform was dark green with a black shako and would be almost as effective as Welbeloved’s own in blending into the background. Almost, that is, except for a broad white leather belt worn from shoulder to waist, which ought to be visible even in the fading light.

  There was a bend in the road ahead and the river here curved away to the right. If it were he having to post picquets, he would place them back round the bend, so that they could dominate any traffic from the shelter of the trees on the slope at the side of the road. He signalled and took to the woods, moving upwards, his men following silently. They climbed rapidly, with the exception of MacKay, who continued to follow the road, creeping along within the cover of the trees at the side.

  Welbeloved gradually bore to the right in an encircling movement that he hoped would outflank the men posted to guard the French rear. The strangled shriek of a barn owl, repeated after a short interval, told him that MacKay had located the French picquets. The call was from almost directly below him and he felt free now to move parallel to the road, bypassing the watchers.

  The trees through which they were moving were mainly conifers. A thick brown carpet of needles, cones and small dead branches made it difficult to move quietly, but had inhibited the growth of small bushes and brambles so that they were able to slip through between the trunks without having
to slow down or make long diversions.

  Quite suddenly the trees thinned appreciably and the river and the road came into view. A view not unobstructed, but they could manage to see where the river and the road curved away from each other, leaving a flat area where the chasseurs were gathered, surrounding the coach. The passengers had alighted and were being questioned by a shortish but well built officer who was shouting and gesticulating energetically.

  Welbeloved signalled with his hands and his men began to filter down towards the coach, moving from tree to tree, as he himself paused to observe. The sound of the Condesa’s voice came up to him. He was unable to make out anything she was saying, but there was an unmistakable tone to her words that indicated that she was showing her displeasure in no uncertain terms.

  The officer obviously thought so too. His gestures indicated that he was becoming more and more angry. He finally barked a command and the Condesa and her maid were bundled back into the coach. The Marqués was unceremoniously pushed up onto the seat, handed the reins and made to drive off after a bugle call had summoned the picquets and placed the horsemen protectively round the coach.

  Welbeloved ran quickly down the road and sent a man back to gather his party together. They would have to shadow the chasseurs and await developments and opportunity.

  CHAPTER 8

  Before they could move off in pursuit, there was a humanitarian duty to perform. The French had abandoned their dead and wounded and they had to be gathered together and the wounded made as comfortable as possible. Some of the less seriously hurt had made their way back to their comrades, but there were over a dozen dead and wounded who would have to be left until their friends returned for them, if they ever did.

  They had also acquired six additional horses and welcome supplies of powder and shot. Thankfully, none of the riflemen had been injured in the short and reckless charge of the chasseurs.

  Vere was left to organise the gathering together of casualties and the rounding up of horses. Welbeloved and MacKay were quietly walking their horses up the river, keeping their eyes and ears open for soldiers left behind to delay pursuit.

  Their caution meant that they could not move quickly and the French were now out of sight and hearing. Dusk had changed to dark and they still maintained their pace. There was little danger of losing their quarry. The road was following the river valley and there were no turnings or diversions. There was only one way the French could go and Welbeloved suspected that this situation would continue, at least until they came to the next town.

  It was difficult to say whether the French officer was overconfident or not. Certainly, he had shown little concern for the lives of his men when he had hurled them recklessly down the valley, without any attempt at sounding out the opposition. He now seemed to be showing a contemptuous disregard for possible pursuit. Either that or he was moving much faster than Welbeloved would have thought sensible in the dark.

  Whatever the reason, the two hunters gradually increased their pace, without finding any trace of rearguards who might have been left to impede them. They had covered several miles by this time and Corporal Atkins and six more of the riflemen had joined them. The extra strength would help if they did come to an unexpected fork and had to divide their force to seek out the enemy.

  No such fork appeared and it was the light of a lantern some way ahead that warned them that they were approaching habitation of some kind. It now seemed sensible to leave the horses and move in on foot. Accordingly, he left two men with the beasts and sent the rest to reconnoitre left and right, with strict instructions to observe only, and report back on any signs of enemy activity.

  He and MacKay probed forward cautiously, following the road towards the houses, all senses sharpened and feeling for any clues to indicate the presence of sentries, who would surely have been posted if the French had elected to rest here for the night. He had chosen MacKay for his expertise in stalking and his ability to move like a shadow, whether in daylight or at night. Welbeloved had learned his own trade in the forests of America, where any mistake at all could be fatal and he was sure that it had tuned his senses to a higher degree than would have been the case under less dangerous conditions. Nevertheless, his regard for MacKay’s abilities placed him on almost the same level as himself. Together they made a formidable combination.

  In fact, it was MacKay’s hand that gripped his arm a fraction of a second before he himself spotted the first sentry. The white of his broad leather belt picked him out, standing in the shelter of one of the houses. The second white belt became visible, seconds later, across the street. They at least were taking their duties seriously. Both had positioned themselves in excellent places to watch for hostile intruders and neither of them was advertising his presence by unnecessary movement.

  Welbeloved and MacKay crouched behind a low wall and Welbeloved made an expressive movement with his hands, indicating that they were to split up and circle round the watchers, meeting up again within the shelter of the houses. MacKay faded into the darkness and Welbeloved cautiously followed suit, moving stealthily and silently to his left, away from the road, slipping through a leafless orchard of fruit trees and between the outbuildings of a small house, perhaps belonging to a reasonably prosperous merchant.

  He sincerely hoped that any dogs were locked securely behind the barred doors, which the town’s inhabitants had, no doubt, placed between themselves and the French. It was most unlikely that any Spanish citizens would be abroad after dark, so that anyone he happened to meet could be presumed to be French and could be dealt with accordingly.

  Climbing out of the garden, he found himself in the back streets of a small town and started to move in the direction of the central plaza, trying to keep parallel to the main through road. He found, as expected, the small streets and alleys deserted. Apart form the two sentries posted to watch the road in, he guessed that the French would only post guards over the immediate buildings that they were occupying

  He slipped through the silent streets for two or three hundred yards, until he found himself back on the main thoroughfare, where he paused to study the road and surrounding area, looking for signs that MacKay had also arrived near the same spot. Fifteen long minutes later and the call of an owl drew his eyes to the opening of an alley, thirty yards nearer the town centre on the opposite side of the road. He cupped his hands and replied in kind and saw a brief flash of a hand to show that MacKay had located him.

  Shortly after, a shadow flitted across the road and the big sergeant was crouching beside him, whispering softly. “No Frogs to be seen sir, other than the two we passed. I can’t get any farther on that side of the road unless I wade the river. Looks like a bridge up ahead where we’ll likely find more sentries.” Welbeloved agreed. “Straight towards the bridge then Sergeant, leapfrogging house to house.”

  MacKay acknowledged and eased his way along the street, hugging the walls to the first corner where he vanished into cover. As soon as he was still, Welbeloved followed, stole past him and made for the shelter of the gap at the end of the next house, waiting in the cover for MacKay to pass him once more. At the next gap he slid in beside MacKay and they both crouched, studying the area around the bridge, now only twenty yards distant.

  Five minutes later they both agreed that there were no French on this side of the bridge, but had caught glimpses of white crossbelts moving on the other side; possibly another two sentries. There was no way of getting across unseen and Welbeloved reluctantly pointed upstream. Together they made their way, shrouded in darkness, for two hundred yards upstream and searched for a convenient place to wade over.

  They finally found a place where the river opened out. It was a longer distance to wade, but the water reached only to their knees, and freezing cold though it was, both men had known much worse. The bank on the far side was high, a steep scramble which brought them out into cover at the side of some large buildings. These turned out to be fortuitously sited from their point of view, as they were un
doubtedly some of the principal houses built round the plaza or main square of the town.

  A space between two of the houses provided ample cover from which to study the dispositions of the enemy. The French seemed to have requisitioned the inn and two or three adjacent houses, all of them large and substantial dwellings, and had posted guards outside each one. The Condesa’s coach was standing outside the inn, but all the horses had been taken elsewhere for stabling. Wherever Don Pedro and the Condesa were being held, it must be in one of these buildings and Welbeloved guessed it was most likely to be the inn.

  He whispered instructions to MacKay and they made their way, quietly and cautiously towards the rear of the buildings. The approach from the front was out of the question. Sentries at the doors and a few troopers still coming and going meant that they would be challenged before they could get near.

  The rear of the buildings was typical of any well-to-do area in any country in Europe. Unmade roads and mews buildings set behind tall walls, where the owners could stable their horses and keep their carriages under cover. There were in fact two or three carriages abandoned in the street; an indication possibly that the French had wheeled them out to provide more room for the large number of horses.

  With the exception of the inn premises, wide gates installed to let the carriages pass in and out broke the rear walls. The inn of course had a wide entrance at the front and far more room in its yard for stables and carriages. Thus the only door at the back of the inn was of a size to admit people on foot and was under guard by two more sentries, who between them were covering the whole of the rear area.

  Welbeloved eased his watch out of his pocket and snapped open the front, delicately feeling the position of the hands to determine the exact time. A few minutes before ten o’clock. Knowing something of the military mind, he guessed that any change of sentries would be on the hour, probably at two-hour intervals; ten, twelve, two, etc. He and MacKay merged with their background and waited.