Read Online The Fields of Death by Simon Scarrow - Free Book Online
Authors: Simon Scarrow
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for a moment to force himself to remain calm. He spoke in a low, hard tone when he continued. ‘Tell him that I am astonished that men could act so selfishly when their nation is threatened by tyranny. Is there no sense of honour amongst the nobles of Spain?’
O’Donoju was about to translate when Arthur took his arm. ‘No. Don’t bother. It would serve no purpose to impugn the integrity of the general and his staff. I just need to know what is the latest news of Marshal Victor.’
‘Victor is not thirty miles from here,’ O’Donoju replied. ‘A short distance to the east of the town of Talavera. He has taken up a defensive position behind one of the tributaries of the Tagus.’
Arthur felt his heart quicken. ‘Two days’ march. Has he been reinforced yet?’
‘No. The garrison of Madrid is still in the capital, or was when we last heard.’
‘Then Victor has some twenty thousand men in the field. I have almost the same. What is your present strength?’
‘Twenty-eight thousand infantry, and six thousand cavalry.’
‘Then we have him, by God!’ Arthur smiled. ‘It is likely that the French do not know that my army is here. If we can strike at Victor before he can retreat, or is reinforced, we can beat him. Tell your general that there is no time to waste. We must march east as soon as possible. We can both attack him on the morning of the twenty-third.’
Cuesta heard the translation and thought for a moment before he nodded and made his reply to O’Donoju.
‘It is agreed. We will attack Marshal Victor in two days’ time. His excellency says that you may help yourself to the French supplies after the battle is won.’
Back at his headquarters, in a small barn outside Oropesa, Arthur opened his eyes and glanced towards Somerset. He explained the intention to attack Marshal Victor and called for any maps featuring Talavera and the ground to the east of the town. With the map spread out across his campaign table Arthur stabbed his finger at the line marking the course of the river Alberche.
‘There. That’s where he is. That’s where he will be caught by us and our Spanish friends. I want the word passed down to all brigade commanders. We will be engaging the enemy in two days from now. We will outnumber Victor by nearly three to one. Have the men told that they will no longer have to tighten their belts once we have captured the enemy’s supplies. I’m sure that will please them.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Somerset nodded. ‘Provided that Marshal Victor holds his ground and does not decide to retreat.’
‘Why should he?’ Arthur smiled. ‘At the moment he assumes that he is faced by General Cuesta. I’m sure that Victor considers his twenty thousand more than a match for Cuesta’s thirty. He will welcome a battle. With luck he has no idea that we have added our strength to Cuesta’s. I think Marshal Victor may be in for the surprise of his life.’
‘I hope you are right, sir,’ Somerset replied. ‘For I fear that if we do not take Victor’s supplies then our men may well starve before they ever see Madrid.’
A thin sliver of moon hung in the star-speckled night sky and by its wan light Arthur surveyed the lines of his men, visible as the more uniform features in a landscape composed of little more than dark shades. The only spark of colour came from the sprinkling of camp fires on the far side of the Alberche river that marked the French picket line. Arthur felt a warm satisfaction in his heart that they had succeeded in closing on Marshal Victor without his being aware of the danger. Perhaps he had misjudged his Spanish allies, Arthur reflected. Following the meeting at Oropesa the two armies had advanced in parallel and made good time in their approach to the enemy position. As night had fallen, Arthur had led the British forward the last few miles to take up position opposite the enemy’s right flank. At the same time, General Cuesta would advance towards the opposite
O’Donoju was about to translate when Arthur took his arm. ‘No. Don’t bother. It would serve no purpose to impugn the integrity of the general and his staff. I just need to know what is the latest news of Marshal Victor.’
‘Victor is not thirty miles from here,’ O’Donoju replied. ‘A short distance to the east of the town of Talavera. He has taken up a defensive position behind one of the tributaries of the Tagus.’
Arthur felt his heart quicken. ‘Two days’ march. Has he been reinforced yet?’
‘No. The garrison of Madrid is still in the capital, or was when we last heard.’
‘Then Victor has some twenty thousand men in the field. I have almost the same. What is your present strength?’
‘Twenty-eight thousand infantry, and six thousand cavalry.’
‘Then we have him, by God!’ Arthur smiled. ‘It is likely that the French do not know that my army is here. If we can strike at Victor before he can retreat, or is reinforced, we can beat him. Tell your general that there is no time to waste. We must march east as soon as possible. We can both attack him on the morning of the twenty-third.’
Cuesta heard the translation and thought for a moment before he nodded and made his reply to O’Donoju.
‘It is agreed. We will attack Marshal Victor in two days’ time. His excellency says that you may help yourself to the French supplies after the battle is won.’
Back at his headquarters, in a small barn outside Oropesa, Arthur opened his eyes and glanced towards Somerset. He explained the intention to attack Marshal Victor and called for any maps featuring Talavera and the ground to the east of the town. With the map spread out across his campaign table Arthur stabbed his finger at the line marking the course of the river Alberche.
‘There. That’s where he is. That’s where he will be caught by us and our Spanish friends. I want the word passed down to all brigade commanders. We will be engaging the enemy in two days from now. We will outnumber Victor by nearly three to one. Have the men told that they will no longer have to tighten their belts once we have captured the enemy’s supplies. I’m sure that will please them.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Somerset nodded. ‘Provided that Marshal Victor holds his ground and does not decide to retreat.’
‘Why should he?’ Arthur smiled. ‘At the moment he assumes that he is faced by General Cuesta. I’m sure that Victor considers his twenty thousand more than a match for Cuesta’s thirty. He will welcome a battle. With luck he has no idea that we have added our strength to Cuesta’s. I think Marshal Victor may be in for the surprise of his life.’
‘I hope you are right, sir,’ Somerset replied. ‘For I fear that if we do not take Victor’s supplies then our men may well starve before they ever see Madrid.’
A thin sliver of moon hung in the star-speckled night sky and by its wan light Arthur surveyed the lines of his men, visible as the more uniform features in a landscape composed of little more than dark shades. The only spark of colour came from the sprinkling of camp fires on the far side of the Alberche river that marked the French picket line. Arthur felt a warm satisfaction in his heart that they had succeeded in closing on Marshal Victor without his being aware of the danger. Perhaps he had misjudged his Spanish allies, Arthur reflected. Following the meeting at Oropesa the two armies had advanced in parallel and made good time in their approach to the enemy position. As night had fallen, Arthur had led the British forward the last few miles to take up position opposite the enemy’s right flank. At the same time, General Cuesta would advance towards the opposite
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