Soldier Spy

by Griff Hosker

  As we rode a long circuit back to the villa Trooper Rae asked. “Won’t the French be suspicious when they arrive?”

  “Probably but they get a lot of deserters and I think that the six we killed will have a reputation. However you may be right and I would not like to be here when they arrive. We have two, perhaps three days at the most.” I waved my arm around the bay. “This looks perfect for a landing and we know that Maida will welcome the General. What we need to do is to find out if there is anyone close to us.”

  I took us in a wide circle around Maida and we searched the area for a five mile radius. We found no sign of the enemy and only a few isolated farms and houses. They all remained shuttered when we approached.

  It was after noon when we reached Maida and I saw a large crowd in the square. Don Vicente was standing on a cart with Sergeant Sharp watching his back. As our hooves sounded on the cobbles everyone looked around in fear.

  “These men are the ones who saved me.” The crowd erupted in cheers. Don Vicente looked at me. “Well?”

  “There is no one close.”

  “Good. I have explained that the French will be returning. They are all set on revenge but I have persuaded them that it would be better to pretend that the six never came here.”

  I felt guilty for I had deliberately not told Cesar’s friend that the British were coming. I did not want a careless whisper jeopardising Sir John’s invasion. “That is good.” I addressed them all. “You will need to hide all valuables and food for the French will take whatever you have. You have some days to do this. It might well be that they move somewhere else if there is nothing to be had here.” I saw the nods from many of the crowd. This was something positive they could do.

  Don Vicente said, “Please, use my villa. I will be with my people. We have to bury the dead.”

  “I understand.”

  The four of us returned to the villa. After we had stabled and fed the horses we entered the cool building. “I don’t know about you sir but I am starving.”

  “So am I. You two get some food on the go. Alan, come with me. We need to begin to make a map.”

  We spent the next hour drawing a map of the area and I put down all the features which I thought would be useful to Sir John. The villa had a good aspect and we were able to see for miles. The map was far better than most maps we had created before. It took us a couple of hours to finally complete it to my satisfaction but I knew that it would help Sir John Stuart to plan his campaign. By the time we had finished the smell of food had driven work from our minds and we sat in the garden of this beautiful villa in the shade of lemon trees drinking some good wine and eating a simple meal. It was hard to believe that less than a day ago there had been a bloodbath not far from where we ate. Such was life in 1806 in a war torn Italy.

  Chapter 17

  When Don Vicente returned we were exhausted and ready for sleep but it was important that we talked. He poured us each a glass of his best wine. “Thank you for saving our people and now, Don Roberto of Sicily, would you like to tell me what brought you here. I do not believe you came just to save my life.”

  “I am a captain of cavalry and these are my men. We are here to find out the French dispositions.”

  “You are spies.”

  “Yes.” There was little point in denying it.

  “If you are found out of uniform you will be shot.” Why did everyone have to keep harping on about that? I nodded and sipped my wine. “Good, you are honest as well as brave. How can I help?”

  “You already have. We need a base for the next day or so. Do not worry we will leave before the French arrive but with the three horses of yours we can cover a lot of territory. I will leave one man here each day in case there are any more unwanted visitors.”

  He nodded, “The men in the village are preparing to defend themselves. Some of them fought in the militia and they are armed.”

  I shook my head. “They should not act hastily. The French can be ruthless believe me. Better to hit them in small groups when they are isolated but even that is risky for there will be reprisals.”

  “But the Neapolitan Army is finished and if those six are a measure of what we can expect then better to die fighting than see our women and children abused.”

  I had no argument to that. “We will leave in the morning and remember to hide your valuables. I will be leaving Trooper Cartwright tomorrow he will help you.” I saw the disappointed look on his face. “And perhaps you can improve his Italian.”

  I let Sergeant Sharp take Trooper Rae to scout the south and east while I went alone to the north and east. They were less than happy about that but I brooked no argument. I rode hard towards the mountains in the north. It was as I remembered from the two other visits I had made. There was a wall of rock and narrow passes with few houses and farms. As I headed east in the afternoon, I reflected that Maida was the largest town in the region. If Sir John could hold that he would be able to stop troops getting to the toe of Italy and Reggio.

  I pushed both my horse and my luck. I could see the sea ahead of me. This was the narrowest part of Italy. I knew that there was a town ahead of me but I had no idea of its size. It was a shock when Cathanzario loomed up, almost from the sea. It was a larger town than Maida and had defences. Even more importantly the French tricolour flew from the walls. The French were there.

  Even though it was late I knew that I needed to find out how many men there were there. Could this be where the Light Infantry we had killed were based? I rode as close to the walls as I could get without being seen and I sheltered in an olive grove close to the gate. I dismounted and pretended to be attending to the hooves of my horse. I kept glancing at the gate to see who was using it. There were no guards, which was a good thing. There were also people pushing carts and trudging out. It looked as though there had been a market for those leaving were laden with food. That in itself was interesting. It meant that there was not a large French garrison or else they would have confiscated it all.

  I was just about to risk entry when I saw two monks come from the town and they were carrying two amphorae of what looked like olive oil. They were struggling. I watched them pass me and head west down the road I had used. I mounted and left the olive grove to follow them. When I caught up with them I halted, “Brothers that oil looks heavy.” I dismounted, “If we are going the same way perhaps my horse could bear the load?”

  They looked at each other and then nodded. The older one said, “Thank you, my son.” They tied the amphorae on either side of the horse and I began to lead it. “Where are you headed my son?”

  I waved vaguely towards the south west, “To Reggio. I hope to get a boat to Sicily. And you father, where are you headed?”

  “Our monastery is up the hill. We will leave you in a few miles but this is kind of a stranger and a foreigner to boot.” He appraised me with a shrewd look. I became alert. He had recognised that I was not Italian. “Were you in the town?”

  I decided on a version with some honesty in it. “No, father for I saw the French flag and I have no love for the French.”

  He saw my sword, “You were a soldier?”

  “Something like that.”

  “We were told that the armies of Naples were destroyed.”

  I nodded, “They were beaten but many escaped.”

  He took that information in. “You could have gone into the town. There were but ten French horsemen in green uniforms there and they were busy drinking in the square. I think they were on holiday!”

  So there were Chasseurs there and the French Light Infantry was elsewhere. “Even so it might have caused trouble.”

  “A thoughtful soldier; how refreshing.” Again he gave me a look which made me think that he was not all that he seemed. “You are not Neapolitan, are you?”

  “No, I am not.” I ventured nothing more and he changed the subject.

  We chatted about the monastery, the area and the climate until the brother said, “Here is where we leave you, my s
on. Thank you for your kindness.” He made the sign of the cross over me, “I pray that you will stay safe.”

  Once they had disappeared from sight I mounted my horse and rode hard, taking the fork to the right. I had no reason to distrust the monks but I could afford to take no chances Besides some of the monk’s questions had been too pointed for my liking and they had unnerved me slightly. As I rode home I began to imagine all sorts of plots and intrigues. I was becoming too much like Colonel Selkirk and concocted plots behind every bush. It was well past sunset when I reached the villa and Sergeant Sharp was watching anxiously for me.

  “Sir, where have you been? We were worried.”

  I smiled, “And you are now my mother, sergeant? Don’t worry. The nearest Frenchmen are twenty miles away and there are just ten of them.”

  Once inside, with the horses attended to I fell upon the food they had for me. While I ate they reported on what they had seen. “We saw no sign of Frenchmen for twenty miles around.”

  “And I had the same experience. Except when I headed for Cathanzario; I discovered that there are ten Chasseurs there. They are close enough to pay us a visit. We will leave here before dawn and hide near our rendezvous.”

  “The men of the town could deal with ten horsemen.” Don Vicente ventured.

  I shook my head, “No, there might be a chance that one could escape and that would bring the wrath of the French upon you. Better that we leave. The next rendezvous will be tomorrow night. If we delay our departure we might be here for another three days and risk capture. From what I have seen there are just two towns in the area which could be defended and my general needs to know that. And,“ I added, “the King and Queen will need to know of the atrocities committed by the French. It might spur them to action.”

  “Very well. What do you need from me?”

  “Nothing, save some food and an oil lamp to signal.”

  That evening we spoke of the French and what they had done. Don Vicente had been something of a recluse and the horrors inflicted upon his neighbours had made him resolve to care for them more. “I will start the militia again.” He patted his stomach. “Working with the young men might help me to lose this.” His face hardened. “If the French come again then they will be given a hot welcome. They will learn to leave our women alone.”

  It struck me that six soldiers had done more for the British and allied cause than all of General De Damas’ Neapolitan Army.

  We left the next morning and were seen off by everyone from Maida. They all knew that, but for our presence the French soldiers would have continued their orgy of destruction. Had we asked we would have gone back laden with food but I knew that they would need it more than we would. I said goodbye to Don Vicente at the edge of the town. “Thank you for your help and perhaps I can visit again in more peaceful times.”

  “I would like that.” There was genuine affection in his smile and the firm grip told me that he meant his words.

  As we were on foot we were able to hide more easily than had we been mounted. We kept low and stopped frequently. I had not seen another sign of the French but it would not do to be caught so close to safety. We had a mere five miles to go and we took our time; pausing frequently. We reached the beach just as the sun was dipping beneath the horizon. We gathered wood for a fire but, while the sun set we watched. Lying on the sand we were strangely at peace. It was a beautiful sunset and the red and yellow rays seemed to dance on the water at the edge of the sand. It was hard to believe that violence and destruction had ravaged Maida, just five miles up the road.

  It soon became chilly and we lit the fire. I was not worried about the fire being seen. The nearest people were in Maida and they were on our side. Perhaps Lieutenant Hill might see the fire and close with the shore. We finished our food and Sergeant Sharp checked that the lamp functioned effectively. Then we sat to wait. Time seemed to drag. I kept looking at my watch and the hour hand had barely moved.

  Rae had just asked, for the umpteenth time, “What time is it sir?”

  I had replied, somewhat irritably, “Ten o’clock. Two hours to go,” when Cartwright’s sharp ears picked out a noise.

  “Horses sir and they are coming fast.”

  The only friendly horses belonged to Don Vicente and they were unlikely to be his. They had to be the Chasseurs. “Stand to!”

  Moving away from the fire, which would have highlighted me, I stuck my sword in the sand and drew my two pistols. The other three had spread out and we all crouched to make smaller targets. It was the French and they hurtled at us screaming obscenities and leaning forwards with their swords. We must have looked an easy target. Had I been leading them I would have used fire arms first but, thank goodness, the Chasseurs were predictable.

  We remained silent. We would be hard to see and any noise we made would draw them to us. If they were the same ones from the town then I knew that there were ten of them. If not then we were in even more trouble. We had to hurt them so much that they would pull back. Of course that would mean we were still stranded on a beach without the means to escape. The leading rider made straight for Sergeant Sharp. I tracked him with my pistol but Sharp’s own pistol cracked out and the rider tumbled from the back of his horse. The flash showed that they were all in one column but, following Sharp’s kill, they spread out in a wider line; they were attempting to envelop us. I waited until the trooper who charged me was ten yards away and I could smell his horse. When I fired the trooper’s head disappeared. I had to dive to the sand to avoid being trampled by his horse. The dive saved me for a second assailant swung his sabre at the spot my head had occupied a moment earlier. I rolled onto my back and fired at the figure. My ball struck him in the spine and he gave an animalistic scream as he fell to the sand, writhing in agony.

  I stood and drew my sword from the sand. The odds were shrinking. It was now seven to four. However the enemy had horses and my pistols were both empty. I had heard the cracks from the others but I had to focus on my own attackers.

  Two horses made for me. The riders came from two sides. I dived to my right and did a roll. The front of the foremost horse brushed my shoulder. As I rose I slashed, more in hope than expectation and caught the horse on the rump. It reared and the unbalanced rider fell to the floor. I pounced upon him. He was quick and deflected my sabre. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the other rider wheeling to come to his comrade’s assistance. I reached down for my stiletto. As I caught the sabre on my sabre I stabbed upwards with the Italian blade and my knife penetrated his heart.

  I was panting and out of breath. The sand was sapping my energy. I was aware of the rider hurtling towards me and I saw, in the same instant, Cartwright felled by a sabre. We had come close to safety but we were going to die. Suddenly there was a dull boom and then a sharper crack. I heard the whistling of a cannon ball as it flew overhead. Then there was a ripple of muskets from the sea.

  There were only a handful of riders left and the cannon balls suggested that we had friends. I heard someone order the Chasseurs to retreat. I ran to Trooper Cartwright. I could see that the wound was mortal. He was coughing up blood. “Sorry I messed up sir. It has been a…” And then he died. I did not even have the chance to tell him that I was proud of him and that he had not messed up.

  Lieutenant Hill appeared next to me. “Let’s get back to the boat, sir. They may come back.”

  I knew that they wouldn’t but I wanted to be away from the beach anyway. Sergeant Sharp and I picked up our comrade’s body and I saw Rae nursing an arm. He shook his head, “Can you believe it sir. Last time it was my right leg. That gets healed and it is my right arm!”

  As we edged away from the shore our rescuer explained. “We arrived early and we waited. We saw the fire lit but weren’t sure if it was you or someone else. When we heard the firing and saw the horses I guessed that it had to be you and we rowed ashore. The shot from the cannon was just to let you know someone was coming. It is only a three pounder.” He grinned, “But it worked.”<
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  One of the sailors put a piece of tarpaulin over Cartwright’s body. “Thank you sailor.”

  Hill said, “Sorry about your man.”

  I shrugged, “He died doing his duty. What more can you ask of a soldier?”

  It took two days to reach Sicily, the winds were against us. We decided to bury Trooper Cartwright at sea. He had no family and we would always remember our comrade when we sailed and looked at the water. It seemed fitting.

  The other two spent a great deal of time with me on the voyage home. The brush with death had brought us closer. “How do you think the French knew we were here?”

  I had wracked my brains for an answer, “The only thing I can think is the monk. He was suspicious of me. Or perhaps the six men we killed were missed and they came looking for them. Either way we were unlucky and poor Cartwright paid the price.”

  I think that Lieutenant Hill was a little disappointed that his detached duty had ended so quickly. As we neared Messina he said. “Any time you need a ship sir. Just ask for me. We have had more excitement in three days than in the last six months. You get fed up of delivering despatches day in day out. That was the first time we have fired our gun in these waters.” He shook his head. “I feel more like a man delivering post than a sailor.”

  “Don’t worry Lieutenant, your day will come and I shall inform the admiral what a fine job you did. We owe you our lives.”

  “I think you would have got out of it somehow sir.”

  Once we were back in our uniforms we felt more like soldiers and less like bandits. I left the sabres for Lieutenant Hill as a souvenir and he was delighted. The three of us made our way to the General’s headquarters. He took in that there were just three of us.

  “Trouble, Captain Matthews?”