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  It seemed likely that the company was going to be there until dark, before they could make their way back through the swarms of men marching past them. The problem he was faced with was not how to extract his company from the middle of a French army, it was how to glean as much information to explain the extraordinary numbers of French soldiers crossing to the south bank of the Tormes at a crossing that was a twenty mile diversion from the direct route.

  His experience told him that once the various units had camped for the night, they would be far more concerned that neighbouring units should not steal firewood from ‘their’ territory, than about the unbelievable possibility of an enemy force trotting through the middle of their resting army.

  The only expected danger could be from cavalry pickets on the outer limits of the army and they would be looking outwards for approaching enemies, not for what they would take to be their own poor devils, leaving the lines on a night patrol.

  General Welbeloved was most particular that his officers should have a thorough understanding of the current military situation before they set out on a mission and the briefing before this reconnaissance was no exception. Tonks sometimes felt that his commander knew more about the tactical situation than Lord Wellington himself.

  In turn, he had also briefed his own platoon commanders and they were all now making copious notes about the numbers and types of unit that were passing by below them.

  Taking his time, he went from one to the other, gradually building up a picture of the variety and proportions of the various units that made up the right wing of the advancing host. He noted relatively few cavalry and even these were dragoons; the heavier horsemen not often used for fast reconnaissance work. He had to assume that Marmont’s light cavalry units were probing out in front of the main advance, spreading out from the main road out of Salamanca. In all probability they should now be between D Company and the road and starting to look for a suitable site where they could camp and move off early in the morning to encircle Rodrigo.

  The infantry also looked to be made up of heavier line regiments. Only one regiment of voltigeurs had been seen and one of chasseurs-à-pied; no tirailleurs at all. All the light infantry had crossed over the river first and headed after the cavalry in a southwesterly direction.

  In between the line regiments were regiments of foot artillery; heavy twelve pounders that were intended to support the infantry. Then came the hundreds of wagons of the Train des Equipages, the recently formed transport corps that Napoleon had introduced for when his armies had to travel through foodless regions. It was said that the experiences of his armies in Spain and Portugal had been the spur to his abandonment of the use of unreliable hired wagon drivers.

  He lingered for a long time by the side of Sergeant Major Evans, the acknowledged best marksman in the whole brigade. Dai Evans combined his position of Sergeant Major to the company with the job of supervising Sergeant Brown, in charge of 4 Platoon. Both Evans and Brown had been part of the original Hornet platoon before they were known as Hornets and several of the original band, who had no desire for promotion, had found a home in 4 Platoon.

  They had long been called upon for any duties that were considered more difficult, or even more interesting, but now that standards were so high in the rest of the battalion, this was happening less frequently.

  Tonks still regarded them as his elite though and was inclined to give them many of the choice tasks. He snapped his glass shut and looked across at Evans. “I suspect that we have already got most of the information that we are likely to get from here, don’t you think, Mr. Evans?”

  Dai Evans was alert immediately. He knew his company commander well by now and this particular tone of voice and inconsequential question was a sure indication that Percival Tonks was fidgeting and questing about for mischief.

  Dai himself was always game to make mischief for the enemy, but had to admit that he hadn’t considered the time propitious when literally surrounded by many thousands of enemy soldiers. He handed his glass over to Sergeant Brown and studied with great care the direction that the main French advance was taking.

  “Can it be thinking you are, Sir, that the pleasant rest that we are all enjoying, making us soft is? Perhaps the Captain has noticed that all the infantry, artillery and wagon trains, sticking closely to the roads are and not likely to notice a small platoon walking their horses inconspicuously in the higher meadows by yere?”

  Tonks grinned and started his reply by doing his best to imitate Evans’s lilt. “Grateful I am, Dai Evans, that always your thinking is up with, or ahead of mine. Sir Joshua and Colonel MacKay are anxious not to give the Frogs cause to think that our army is other than in winter quarters when they come to relieve and resupply Ciudad Rodrigo.

  The Hornets shall be falling back now on either side of the main road and shall be aware that the French are coming in greater numbers than any one could have forecast. I don’t think that either of them shall be considering other than perhaps taking an officer or two as prisoners to find out what is behind this advance.

  We shall be retiring tonight down this road that leads directly to the main Salamanca/Rodrigo road at La Fuente de San Esteban, twenty-five miles away. Hopefully, the Frogs shall all be in bivouac by then and we can join up with A Company again.

  In the meantime, it did seem sensible to have you and 4 Platoon moving circumspectly alongside the road, using whatever cover is available and keeping a lookout for a suitable target that we may tackle together when it is dark and we come up with you.”

  Evans looked thoughtful. “Sensible it is, Sir. Perhaps a target such as powder wagons or artillery caissons may appeal? Gunners tend to be trusting souls when it is camping in the middle of an army that they are. A senior officer of artillery, most informative may be about regiments he relies on for escorts on the march.

  Shall you find us by using the call of that little screech owl that plentiful is by yere?”

  CHAPTER 3

  Although the road out of Salamanca towards Ciudad Rodrigo was crowded with squadron after squadron of French horsemen, there was no particular sense of urgency to be observed. The road ran in a reasonably straight line between the towns, possibly a legacy of the Roman province that it once was.

  In the small chain of mountains to the south of the road there were no parallel lanes or tracks. Only in the foothills was it possible to keep up with the sedate pace of the road-borne squadrons and then only by expending much more energy.

  The result was an advance of cavalry over a wide area centred on the road, that resembled nothing so much as a formation like a skein of geese, with those squadrons on either side of the road assuming subordinate positions in the arrowhead. This was more pronounced on the left-hand side of the road, as here the ground rose more and more steeply from the foothills into the mountains.

  Reports coming back to Gonçalves and Welbeloved told firstly of squadron following squadron in the foothills and then of two of the chasseur squadrons becoming bored with this and rejoining the line of march on the main road.

  Later messages from Dodds told of light and heavy infantry making very heavy weather of moving through the foothills while trying to maintain cohesive columns; then giving up and making their own way down to the overcrowded road.

  The Vespãos had been quietly retiring along their own outward path, keeping pace with the head of the column on the road. By mid-afternoon they increased their pace and drew well ahead, after receiving information that the leading hussar squadron behind them had now opened a much bigger gap between themselves and the remaining squadron of chasseurs-à-cheval. This was forcing them to use the small tracks and lanes and causing them to advance on a much narrower front than was dictated by purely military practice.

  As Gonçalves suggested to Welbeloved: “Now that the squadron of hussars is so far ahead, there has to be a good chance that we can ambush them before they can get any support from the following chasseurs, or any of their friends on the road.
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br />   It occurred to me, Sir Joshua, that the village on this level that is about three miles ahead may attract their attention and could therefore offer itself as a possible place to ambush them. If they should ignore it, as we did, there is a track running below it that leads directly through that narrow valley in another half mile.

  We have enough men to set up an ambush in both places without having to call on Dodds. He shall be following the chasseurs still, probably several miles back.”

  Welbeloved nodded. “I am sure that will do, Fernando. Altogether, we outnumber the hussars and the single squadron of chasseurs. If they try to interfere when they hear the rifles, we may destroy both squadrons. As you say, Dodds shall be stalking the chasseurs.

  If I remember correctly, the village is three or four miles uphill from the cavalry on the road down there. Is that not so?”

  “Indeed so, Sir Joshua. They shall probably send out to investigate when they hear us shoot, but neither location is clearly visible from the road and they shall perforce need to be cautious. I should count on this caution to give me all the time I need.”

  They had reached the fork in the track they were following and Welbeloved was pleased that he had guessed wrongly. He had expected Gonçalves to detach Captain Richter with his greater experience and to keep Brevet Captain da Silva under his own control.

  Instead, C Company spurred up the slope into the village with plenty of time to conceal their horses and make themselves inconspicuous while waiting to see what the hussars would do.

  The five platoons of B Company went on to settle themselves in ambush half-a-mile farther on, taking Gonçalves and Captain Richter with them. Welbeloved waved them on and moved up the slope to where he could be concealed and still watch to see whether the hussars would choose the village or the valley to lead them to their fate.

  He had not long to wait. The troop acting as advance guard appeared within five minutes. If he had been slower they may well have seen him before he reached concealment.

  The lieutenant in command of the brightly-attired horsemen knew his business. His task was to make sure that the way was clear for his squadron. His squadron commander would doubtless decide whether or not to forage for food in the village, although if it was as deserted and derelict as the two others that they had passed, he may well just ignore it. He detached half-a-dozen men with a sergeant and bugler, to trot up the track and check for signs of villagers, guerrilleros or enemy soldiers. The rest of the troop walked their horses slowly along the lower track, leaving just one trooper at the junction.

  Ten minutes later there was a four-note bugle call from the village. Welbeloved assumed that it was a signal that all was clear, as the lone hussar spurred back to report to the squadron. Welbeloved’s glass showed the detachment leaving on the other side of the village to rejoin the troop. They all rode on towards the valley where Gonçalves was waiting.

  The time taken to explore the village had brought the rest of the squadron close and the lone trooper returned quickly, cantering after his troop. The first rider of the squadron followed almost immediately and they ignored the village entirely, walking their horses in quite a leisurely way with two troops leading, then four light wagons and a third troop acting as rearguard. Being aware that the squadron of chasseurs was following behind, they obviously considered that there was no need for mounted vedettes at the rear.

  Hardly were they out of sight when da Silva sent a couple of scouts cantering back along the trail to be sure it was clear before leading his company out of the village. He was keen to cut off any escape route for the hussars when Gonçalves sprang the trap.

  Springing the trap was not going to be as easy as Gonçalves had first imagined. The valley was such that the road became constricted and shared the valley bottom with a stream bed that was almost dry at this time of year. It was, however, the only one he could recall in these foothills that was not running across their direction of travel.

  In this case, the stream that formed it came off the mountain and was forced eastwards to run parallel to the main road for two hundred yards or so, before plunging down towards it again. Where it first turned into the valley, the track crossed it and rose over a small col into an adjacent, wider valley with several streams wandering straight down towards the main road.

  The whole length of this zigzag was no more than two hundred yards and for nearly half that distance the slopes at the sides were not steep enough to prevent a horseman from scrambling up. A squadron of horse, constricted to three abreast and travelling with wagons, should certainly occupy most of the two hundred yards of road, even after the vanguard troop had passed through.

  Then he remembered that the first object was to capture a couple of relatively senior officers for questioning. It would be gratifying to catch a complete squadron in his net, but Sir Joshua would be content with whatever they got, provided there was a captain or major included.

  Nevertheless, he deployed a full platoon along the top of the ridge over the easier ascent to discourage any escape by that route.

  As soon as the vanguard platoon appeared, all thought of bagging the full squadron evaporated. They could not be touched or the rest of the squadron would come nowhere near the valley. Neither could the platoon of Vespãos on either side of the stream move a muscle. There was barely enough cover over the last hundred yards for a single platoon to hide and Gonçalves could not risk them being seen until the rest of the squadron was packed into the valley.

  The enemy troop commander was as wary as he had been trained to be. His wariness only went as far as the perils that he had learned to appreciate. He knew that the track through the valley had the potential for ambush, because the valley sides were less than fifty yards from the track. He also knew that for the ambush to be effective there would need to be at least a hundred marksmen concealed along the valley walls. To be really dangerous, they would be regular soldiers wearing colourful uniforms and probably military shakos.

  Nowhere along the valley could that number of dangerous men be hidden, so he looked upward to evaluate the lesser danger of rocks being hurled down.

  Satisfied, he had his bugler face back and blow the same four-note call as at the village. This time he must have liked the tune as he made him blow it three times, hoping that it would carry through the valley and be heard outside.

  His squadron liked the tune as well. Quite a loud acknowledgement came back, a little distorted by echoes and he led his platoon over the col and into the next valley.

  Two platoons of Vespãos immediately moved down the dry stream bed from farther up the hill and waited, ready to occupy the small plateau just under the col. The platoon that was still mounted, watched as the vanguard troop moved away. They would crowd in after their colleagues to complete the trap.

  The hussars were walking their horses steadily, three abreast and the leading riders had passed the half-way mark just as the rearguard troop were following the four wagons into the valley. Another fifty yards and the wagons were effectively blocking any way back for the first two troops, who were also denied the option of scrambling up the steeper slope, still open to those at the back.

  Gonçalves waited until the officers riding in front of the second troop were opposite his position before blowing a long blast on his whistle and standing up to bellow at the lines of mounted men below him.

  “Halt where you are! You are surrounded! Stop or be killed!”

  The hussars reined in involuntarily and stared at the strange dusty figure standing only twenty or thirty yards away across the bed of the dry stream and maybe ten feet above them.

  French was not his best language, but they must have understood the ‘Halte!’ and the threat.

  What they would certainly have understood was the crowd of armed men that rushed into view only thirty or forty yards ahead of them and formed a treble line that was effectively a cork for the bottle that they were in. A very large cork compared with the neck of the bottle that would only accommodate t
hree hussars at a time.

  The lieutenant in command of the leading troop refused to consider it as a cork at all. Perhaps he mistook the Vespãos for undisciplined guerrilleros and thought he could deal with them before they could settle themselves. He may have been encouraged by the fact that they were only a short distance away and there was no line of glittering bayonets to make the horses baulk. He shrieked an order to draw sabres and charge, leading the narrow column himself.

  Because they were so close, the Vespãos paid them the compliment of allotting two men to shoot each hussar. The lieutenant was the first to fall, but as he and each man went down, the next behind was exposed and was given no chance to escape the deadly hail of bullets.

  They did not reach half way to the lines of Vespãos. The first three horses had been shot and there was a huge pile-up, with horses crashing into each other, horses and riders falling into the rocky bed of the stream. The lines of Vespãos stopped shooting.

  In the middle of the column, several hussars could not resist unholstering their carbines to have a shot at the shouting figure of Gonçalves. That could not be permitted. It was never to be recommended that carbines be holstered when already loaded and primed, but Gonçalves’ men could not take the risk that they might be. Every man drawing his carbine was shot from his saddle.

  The clouds of powder smoke suddenly appearing from the slope where it seemed impossible to hide a soldier, finally convinced their commander that he was caught in an impossible position and he bellowed orders for everyone to sit still and raise their hands.

  The troop riding at the back of the wagons took this as a signal to make a break back along the track. Brevet Captain da Silva chose this moment to deploy the whole of C Company across their path.

  Half-a-dozen men put their horses to the slope opposite the stream bed and changed their minds quickly as the platoon in concealment rose to their feet, disdaining even to use their rifles.