A Despite of Hornets

by Geoffrey Watson

  Atkins had scored a hit. There was a riderless horse galloping in front of the pack. Welbeloved’s ploy had also worked. He had brought down a horse and rider; not the one he had aimed at; causing several other riders to take violent evasive action.

  They hadn’t succeeded in slowing the headlong gallop, but had certainly attracted the Frenchmen’s attention, as was shown by the many white faces staring over at the tell-tale clouds of powder smoke. Both he and Atkins fired their second shot together, their target now so close that it was almost impossible to miss. Both reloaded and Atkins fixed his bayonet. They stepped behind the trees as a section of a dozen men peeled off and came thundering towards the copse.

  They never made it. The slope beyond the French was suddenly filled with waves of galloping, screaming Spaniards, hurtling down on the surprised hussars. They realised they were under attack only seconds before the unstoppable wave crashed into their flank and rolled over and through them, sabres rising and falling in an orgy of slashing and stabbing.

  With great presence of mind, Vere swung the Hornets in a wide circle to the rear of the French. They dismounted quickly and waited in line, rifles loaded and primed.

  Outnumbered two to one, disorganised, surprised and overwhelmed, the hussars succumbed in seconds. They were cut down almost without resistance, except for a small group who made a concerted break to try and escape. Led by a surviving officer, they broke from the mêlée and headed back the way they had come. They had only travelled a few yards when the line of brown-clad figure facing them shot the officer and other leading riders from the saddle. The rest hurriedly threw down their swords, dismounted and surrendered.

  The Spaniards were jubilant. The entire squadron of fifty hussars had been captured, killed or disabled, and all the horses but one were uninjured and fully accoutred. Two of the Spaniards had minor injuries, one from an over-enthusiastic backhand sabre cut from one of his own colleagues. It would be difficult to imagine a more complete and satisfactory victory, in a classic cavalry mould. The Spaniard’s morale was sky high and the reputation of the Hornets; as the brains behind, and initiators of the foray; was enhanced to an even greater degree. Welbeloved’s new charges would have ridden down and challenged the whole army if he had asked them.

  Once again, there was nothing they could do about the prisoners. Welbeloved made them bury their dead, eight graves by the side of the little copse. He had stretchers cut for the fourteen badly wounded. These he allowed to retain their uniforms, but the rest were stripped to their shirts and released to carry their comrades back to join their regiment. Once more he was making his gesture of contempt, which he hoped would provoke Tasselot into some ill-considered action

  More important, the Spaniards now had enough horses to provide a mount for every trained cavalryman. Only the infantrymen among them were still afoot. He had nearly two hundred, trained horse soldiers, itching to fight the French.

  The one horse that had to be shot was the one that fell and broke a leg when Welbeloved himself had shot the rider. He had it butchered on the spot and the meat hauled back to the camp. It would make a welcome change from the sparse fare they had been eating for the last few days.

  CHAPTER 19

  The little town was really no bigger than a large village, perhaps thirty or so houses only. Not all the men could claim the luxury of a roof over their heads, but those that did took advantage of the shelter to dry out uniforms that had been damp and clammy for days. The Condesa had personally taken over the largest building in the town for the Hornets. It was a house of three stories, which doubled as an inn when the opening of the passes brought travellers from the south. There was a fair sized paddock for the horses and the owner and his servants were bustling about with hot water and towels when Welbeloved, Anstruthers and Vere walked in.

  The two women were taking full advantage of the facilities to make themselves more presentable, after days and nights in the small canvas shelters that the men had contrived for them. They had left a message to say that the Condesa had arranged for the landlord to provide dinner for all the officers in two hours time. The three men lost no time in stripping off their wet uniforms and drying them and themselves before a roaring fire.

  By the time the Spaniards arrived for the meal, all three were dry, washed and shaved, and feeling altogether more human. The servants had set up a long trestle table in the room, as soon as they had been able to move in past the drying bodies and clothes. There was no linen on the table; scrubbed boards only; but with the roaring fire, the tallow candles reflecting in the glasses and on the rough cutlery, the lively conversation and bubbling high spirits of the Spanish officers, it was a cheerful scene indeed.

  When the door opened and the Condesa entered, all the men stood and broke into spontaneous applause. She had somehow managed to beg or borrow a gown for the occasion. Perhaps one that the landlord’s wife had loaned. Certainly, back in Madrid, she would have rejected it with scorn, but without the uniform that she had been wearing for so many days, she was once more the Condesa de Alba y Hachenburg, and not a man there did not feel grateful and touched by her gesture. Strangely, such was her personality; her black eye and bruised face were hardly noticed.

  The young Spaniards in particular, vied with each other to entertain her and she accepted their homage as her due, letting her natural charm and lively wit set the tone for an exhilarating and memorable evening. Welbeloved found himself seated at the other end of the table and was able to relax and observe his hostess effortlessly controlling these high spirited young men; drawing out the shy ones and allowing the bolder ones free rein within the limits she was setting. Most of the conversation was in Spanish, and Welbeloved found that he was beginning to acquire an ear for it. He was able to follow what was said without too much difficulty, but noticed that the Condesa frequently switched to English to draw opinions and comments from Vere.

  Toasts were drunk at the end of the meal. Welbeloved himself proposed the health and safety of the exiled Spanish King, and Torreblanco responded with “King George of England and our gallant allies.” Welbeloved then turned to the Condesa, and to much acclaim, complemented her on her appearance, thanked her for all her efforts on their behalf, and commended her courage and steadfastness. Even Don Pedro roared his approval with all the rest when the toast was drunk.

  Welbeloved immediately rapped on the table again to get their attention. “Gentlemen. This has been an occasion that we shall all remember with much pleasure, but it must now end with a reminder of why we are all here. Today, our Wolves showed the invaders how Spanish cavalrymen can fight. They will not be so eager to meet yew again.” They roared at him and banged on the table. “However, gentlemen, we routed fifty hussars only, and they have another nine hundred not ten miles away. I’m talking only of cavalry. There are four thousand infantry as well and we can’t afford to allow them to relax. They might start to think they are welcome here else.”

  That provoked laughter and jeers, as he knew it would. He went on. “Everyone will now get as much rest as he can. We leave here at two o’clock. Major Anstruthers will lead the Wolves to raid the camp of the French vanguard, and I will be taking the Hornets to see what damage we can do to their baggage train. There may be a lot of them, but without their reserve of powder and shot, they’ll soon have nothing to shoot with.”

  The party broke up. Anstruthers gathered his officers together and gave them a rough outline of the plan he and Welbeloved had discussed earlier. Welbeloved went to the Condesa and took her hands. “Two hundred years ago, they might well have burnt yew as a witch for the spells yew wove tonight. Those boys will be fighting for their country, and they’ll not find it easy or quick. They’ll need to combat every excuse for giving up, maybe for years yet, but if anything is likely to hold them to the belief that their struggle is worthwhile, it is yor personal example over the last weeks, and the memory of yor company this evening.”

  She gripped his hands tightly and then relaxed. “It se
ems to me, Joshua, that you completely undervalue your own part in this desperate adventure. You are a heretic. To them you are an Englishman, and Spanish mothers still frighten their naughty children by telling them that El Draque the terrible will get them. You are the leader of a band of English heretics and yet you have inspired them and given them more self-respect than any of those generals of their own, whom they have sworn to follow. I think, my dear, that you are the one that Joseph’s Wolves will tell their grandchildren about.”

  It was acutely embarrassing. He struggled to think how he could make her understand that he had used his oratory quite deliberately, cynically even, to manipulate them, to influence them to do as he wanted. A detached part of his mind could stand apart and sneer at his motives, his determination to use any means available to achieve his goal. He was quite unable to find the words to express himself and ended up stammering some platitude or other and excusing himself as quickly as he could, leaving the Condesa to control her exasperation.

  His exit from the room coincided with the return of MacKay and his party. He could tell from his expression as he came to attention and saluted, that he was unhappy about something. He yelled for the landlord to bring more food for the men when they had seen to their horses. He ushered MacKay into the room and sat him before the fire before he would allow him to report. Anstruthers and the others gathered round.

  He was grateful for the warmth, but held himself stiffly, uncomfortable at being the centre of so much attention. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to have to tell you that young Mr. Poribanez has been taken by the French sir. We’d surprised some of their rearguard and taken a dozen horses, but got chased by a large troop of cavalrymen. We made for cover so that we could fight them off, but his horse must have stumbled and he came off in front of them.

  We shot a good number of them and made them retire, but they carried him away with them and a company of infantry stopped us from following. I’m fair certain he’s still alive sir; they’d no’ ha’ taken him wi’ ‘em otherwise. They left a’ their ain dead lyin’ there.”

  Anstruthers had been translating for the benefit of the Spanish officers. Torreblanco shrugged fatalistically and spoke to Anstruthers. “Tell the Sergeant if you please, that we do not regard him as responsible. It is part of the fortune of war. In the present circumstances, I would have to regard the capture of another twelve horses as more important than the loss of a very junior officer.”

  As Anstruthers rendered that in English, Welbeloved knew that MacKay felt the loss more keenly than if it had been one of his own men. The young Spaniard had been only sixteen and MacKay had adopted an almost fatherly attitude towards him when they had ridden off together. He offered a few words of comfort. “It couldn’t be helped Sergeant. We all know that. If he’s a prisoner, they’ll not treat him badly and we’ll have to hang on to the next officer we capture and offer them an exchange.”

  MacKay allowed himself an uncompromising, “If you say so sir.” Welbeloved said brusquely, “let’s have the rest of yor report then.”

  The rest of the patrol had gone off without incident, but it was obvious that the presence of the Hornets was having an effect. Instead of allowing all his various units to press on at their own best speed and straggle over many miles of road, Tasselot was now being forced to protect the weaker and more vulnerable areas by concentrating the column into the smallest possible length. He had to travel with his wagons and transport units sandwiched between companies of fighting men, and with escorts of cavalry on the flanks. The whole length of the column was now no more than a mile. As with similar convoys of ships, its pace was limited to the pace of the slowest component.

  Anstruthers looked meaningfully at Welbeloved and grinned. “I’m willing to wager that they’ll have half their forces on guard, standing back to back, every time they bivouac sir. I’m thinking you’ll not find their supply train easy to get at after what you did to their guns.”

  They moved out at two o’clock, leaving behind a platoon of Spanish infantrymen to guard the approaches to the town. The two Spaniards who were wounded in yesterday’s skirmish and Trelawney, the two women and Don Pedro were also left, in spite of the Condesa’s pleas. Anstruthers had divided his command into four troops of forty to fifty men each, and once clear of the restricting mountain road, they spread out and headed west, searching for the fires of the French bivouacs

  Welbeloved listened to them go and resolved to spend some time teaching them how to muffle their equipment. They weren’t all that noisy, but it was surprising how far the chinking of a loose scabbard could carry at night. The Hornets headed north towards the sea. The only sound from them was the thud of hooves and they all carried enough material, cut from captured French uniforms, to muffle those if necessary.

  They crossed the coast road and swung left in a large arc. Two groups moving steadily, with a couple of riders out ahead on either flank, watching out for the first signs of the French encampment. Torreblanco had told them that there was a large village by the bridge over one of the streams flowing north from the mountains to the sea. It would be a convenient place for Tasselot to call a halt for the night. He could sleep there in comfort, while favoured units could avail themselves of the shelter available, and the wine that the Spaniards could no doubt be made to find in their cellars.

  As soon as they saw the first faint flickers of the campfires, they left the horses and moved in on foot. The French were camped much closer together than before, each company providing support for the others by its very proximity. Far larger numbers of sentries were posted as well. It was an additional hazard, but Welbeloved reasoned that all these extra guard duties would mean soldiers that were wearier, and tired soldiers were less effective. Exhaustion was another factor that would slow Tasselot’s advance. His army would have another disturbed night tonight. With luck, they would soon be jumping at their own shadows.

  The Hornets had prepared carefully. Faces and hands were hidden under layers of burnt cork, much to the wide-eyed amazement of the Spaniards, who had gazed in a kind of delighted horror at this new and terrifying aspect of their lethal allies.

  Sentries were numerous and bivouacs thick on the ground, but shadows slipped between them unseen and unheard, like fine sand through a mesh. Every so often they came across wagons parked in ones and twos, with sleeping men crowded underneath for shelter. Welbeloved wondered whether this was a deliberate decision to scatter the army’s supply wagons throughout the host, as an insurance against a single attempt on their service and transport train. Closer, and daring inspection of a couple of them, approaching to within feet of sleeping men, satisfied him that they were merely transport wagons, used to carry regimental supplies, officer’s luggage and spare equipment.

  Other than these, there was no sign of the army’s wagon train and they were approaching the first buildings of the village. Even more caution was needed now. In the open country, encampments and sentries were more visible. Here, guards could be lurking behind any of the walls. The Hornets moved forward in small groups; one man advancing and stopping, the others flowing past him and finding a position from which to observe, while the first man was released again to move forward past them.

  Their advance was similar to the flow of lava down the slopes of a volcano, though they tended to flow round obstacles rather than over them.

  A whispered word, passed back from the front, halted the advance. They quietly and cautiously assembled in the shadow of a high wall, which on examination appeared to be the boundary wall of a small castle or fortified manor house. It was a formidable obstacle, stretching unbroken around the entire property, except for large, studded, wooden gates on the side facing down to the plaza and the bridge over the stream. It was also some fifteen or sixteen feet high, with coping stones along the top, cut massively and creating a forbidding overhang.

  Welbeloved whispered orders and two pairs of men faced each other, standing sideways to the wall, laying their rifles across each ot
her’s shoulders. Two more men swarmed up and stood on the rifles, also facing each other and arranging their rifles in exactly the same way. Completing the pyramid, Welbeloved climbed up from hands to shoulders until he could stand on the rifles of the top pair and raise his head cautiously over the top of the coping.

  Success! They had found the main wagon train. The large courtyard was filled with twenty or more wagons, drawn up in lines. Oxen and draught horses were tethered loosely over by the far wall, and the rest of the courtyard was crowded with tents and bivouacs on which the still-glowing embers of the campfires cast flickering shadows. Beneath the shelter of the wagons, he could make out blanket-swathed forms.

  Patiently, he concentrated his attention on the scene before him, straining to make out the exact position of all the wagons and the places chosen by the sleeping soldiers. Three of the wagons had been parked some way away from the rest, and even with his telescope he could not make out any sign of men sleeping under them. He wondered whether those were the wagons carrying the army’s reserves of powder. It was possible. He told himself that he himself wouldn’t expect a restful night if he had to sleep under a load of gunpowder.

  Taking careful note of the position of these three wagons, he clambered down and led the way to that part of the wall that he estimated was closest to where they were parked. This time two pyramids were made. When he carefully raised his head above the coping, Corporal Atkins was doing the same thing a few feet away.

  His estimate had been accurate. The wagons were directly below them and they eased themselves up and onto the wall, lying prone along the top. Coils of rope were handed up to them and they released them to fall down beside the wagons. Both men climbed quickly down and crouched between the wagons and the wall, knives out and ready for action. To his relief, Welbeloved saw that his guess had been correct. There were no men sleeping near the wagons. He was more inclined than ever to think they must carry gunpowder. They were parked as far away from any fire as it was possible to get. Surely an elementary precaution?