Read Online Sharpe 12 - Sharpe's Battle by Bernard Cornwell - Free Book Online
Authors: Bernard Cornwell
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contempt suggesting that
Masséna, his enemy, was capable of any foolishness.
“He won't,” Ducos said with the certainty of a man who had the power to dictate strategy to marshals of France. “And the reason he will not is here,”
Ducos said, and he tapped the map as he spoke. “Look,” he said, and Loup bent obediently over the map. The fortress of Almeida was depicted like a star to imitate its jagged, star-shaped fortifications. Around it were the hatch marks of hills, but behind it, between Almeida and the rest of Portugal, ran a deep river. The Coa. “It runs in a gorge, Brigadier,” Ducos said, “and is crossed by a single bridge at Gastello Bom.”
“I know it well.”
“So if we defeat General Wellington on this side of the river,” Ducos said,
"then the fugitives of his army will be forced to retreat across a single bridge scarce three metres wide. That is why we shall leave the garrison in
Almeida, because its presence will force Lord Wellington to fight on this bank of the Coa and when he does fight we shall destroy him. And once the British are gone, Brigadier, we shall employ your tactics of horror to end all resistance in Portugal and Spain."
Loup straightened up. He was impressed by Ducos's analysis, but also dubious of it. He needed a few seconds to phrase his objection and made the time by lighting a long, dark cigar. He blew smoke out, then decided there was no politic way to voice his doubt, so he just stated it baldly. “I've not fought the British in battle, Major, but I hear they're stubborn bastards in defence.” Loup tapped the map. “I know that country well. It's full of hill ranges and river valleys. Give Wellington a hill and you could die of old age before you could shift the bugger loose. That's what I hear, anyway.” Loup finished with a shrug, as if to deprecate his own opinion.
Ducos smiled. “Supposing, Brigadier, that Wellington's army is rotted from the inside?”
Loup considered the question, then nodded. “He'll break,” he confirmed simply.
“Good! Because that is precisely why I wanted you to meet the Dona Juanita,”
Ducos said, and the lady smiled at the dragoon. “The Dona Juanita will be crossing the lines,” Ducos continued, “and living among our enemies. From time to time, Brigadier, she will come to you for certain supplies that I shall provide. I want you to make the provision of those supplies to Dona Juanita your most important duty.”
“Supplies?” Loup asked. “You mean guns? Ammunition?”
Dona Juanita answered for Ducos. “Nothing, Brigadier, that cannot be carried in the panniers of a packhorse.”
Loup looked at Ducos. "You think it's easy to ride from one army to another?
Hell, Ducos, the British have a cavalry screen and there are partisans and our own picquets and God knows how many other British sentries. It isn't like riding in the Bois de Boulogne."
Ducos looked unconcerned. "The Dona Juanita will make her own arrangements and
I have faith in those. What you must do, Brigadier, is acquaint the lady with your lair. She must know where to find you, and how. You can arrange that?"
Loup nodded, then looked at the woman. “You can ride with me tomorrow?”
“All day, Brigadier.”
“Then we ride tomorrow,” Loup said, “and maybe the next day too?”
“Maybe, General, maybe,” the woman answered.
Ducos again interrupted their flirtation. It was late, his supper was waiting and he still had several hours of paperwork to be completed. “Your men,” he said to Loup, “are now the army's picquet line. So I want you to be alert for the arrival of a new unit in the British army.”
Loup, suspecting he was being taught how to suck eggs, frowned. “We're always alert to such things, Major. We're soldiers, remember?”
“Especially alert, Brigadier.” Ducos was unruffled by Loup's scorn. "A Spanish unit, the Real Companïa Irlandesa, is expected to join the British soon and I want to know when they arrive and
Masséna, his enemy, was capable of any foolishness.
“He won't,” Ducos said with the certainty of a man who had the power to dictate strategy to marshals of France. “And the reason he will not is here,”
Ducos said, and he tapped the map as he spoke. “Look,” he said, and Loup bent obediently over the map. The fortress of Almeida was depicted like a star to imitate its jagged, star-shaped fortifications. Around it were the hatch marks of hills, but behind it, between Almeida and the rest of Portugal, ran a deep river. The Coa. “It runs in a gorge, Brigadier,” Ducos said, “and is crossed by a single bridge at Gastello Bom.”
“I know it well.”
“So if we defeat General Wellington on this side of the river,” Ducos said,
"then the fugitives of his army will be forced to retreat across a single bridge scarce three metres wide. That is why we shall leave the garrison in
Almeida, because its presence will force Lord Wellington to fight on this bank of the Coa and when he does fight we shall destroy him. And once the British are gone, Brigadier, we shall employ your tactics of horror to end all resistance in Portugal and Spain."
Loup straightened up. He was impressed by Ducos's analysis, but also dubious of it. He needed a few seconds to phrase his objection and made the time by lighting a long, dark cigar. He blew smoke out, then decided there was no politic way to voice his doubt, so he just stated it baldly. “I've not fought the British in battle, Major, but I hear they're stubborn bastards in defence.” Loup tapped the map. “I know that country well. It's full of hill ranges and river valleys. Give Wellington a hill and you could die of old age before you could shift the bugger loose. That's what I hear, anyway.” Loup finished with a shrug, as if to deprecate his own opinion.
Ducos smiled. “Supposing, Brigadier, that Wellington's army is rotted from the inside?”
Loup considered the question, then nodded. “He'll break,” he confirmed simply.
“Good! Because that is precisely why I wanted you to meet the Dona Juanita,”
Ducos said, and the lady smiled at the dragoon. “The Dona Juanita will be crossing the lines,” Ducos continued, “and living among our enemies. From time to time, Brigadier, she will come to you for certain supplies that I shall provide. I want you to make the provision of those supplies to Dona Juanita your most important duty.”
“Supplies?” Loup asked. “You mean guns? Ammunition?”
Dona Juanita answered for Ducos. “Nothing, Brigadier, that cannot be carried in the panniers of a packhorse.”
Loup looked at Ducos. "You think it's easy to ride from one army to another?
Hell, Ducos, the British have a cavalry screen and there are partisans and our own picquets and God knows how many other British sentries. It isn't like riding in the Bois de Boulogne."
Ducos looked unconcerned. "The Dona Juanita will make her own arrangements and
I have faith in those. What you must do, Brigadier, is acquaint the lady with your lair. She must know where to find you, and how. You can arrange that?"
Loup nodded, then looked at the woman. “You can ride with me tomorrow?”
“All day, Brigadier.”
“Then we ride tomorrow,” Loup said, “and maybe the next day too?”
“Maybe, General, maybe,” the woman answered.
Ducos again interrupted their flirtation. It was late, his supper was waiting and he still had several hours of paperwork to be completed. “Your men,” he said to Loup, “are now the army's picquet line. So I want you to be alert for the arrival of a new unit in the British army.”
Loup, suspecting he was being taught how to suck eggs, frowned. “We're always alert to such things, Major. We're soldiers, remember?”
“Especially alert, Brigadier.” Ducos was unruffled by Loup's scorn. "A Spanish unit, the Real Companïa Irlandesa, is expected to join the British soon and I want to know when they arrive and
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