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Authors: Simon Scarrow
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possible that General Cuesta may not have reached his position.’
Arthur turned to his aide. ‘By God, I hope you’re wrong. General Cuesta would have to be a consummate fool to let such an opportunity come to naught.’
He was about to continue when both men heard a distant clop of hooves and they turned to stare into the night. A figure on horseback emerged from the shadows.
‘Ours?’ Somerset whispered.
‘Only one way to tell,’ Arthur replied. He cleared his throat and called out, ‘Halt. Who goes there?’
The other rider reined in and hurriedly responded. ‘Cornet Davidson, of the Light Dragoons.’
‘Davidson, come here, man!’ Arthur called back.
The cornet spurred his horse forward and a moment later he reined in before his commander and saluted.
‘Did you find Cuesta?’
‘No, sir. I looked for him at Salcidas, but there was no one there, not even one of his advance patrols. So I tracked across the route he should be taking for a mile, perhaps two, and still saw no sign of him, sir. That’s when I decided I had better report back to you.’
Arthur’s jaw tightened with frustration. Where the hell was the Spanish army? By this time they should have completed deploying for their attack. He lowered his head for a moment and thought. Even if Cuesta was still moving up towards Salcidas he could not possibly be ready for at least another three hours. That would mean delaying the attack until four in the morning. It would still be dark then, and there was still a chance of surprising Marshal Victor’s men in their camp. Arthur looked up.
‘Davidson, I want you to go back and try to find Cuesta. Tell him that I have decided to delay the attack until four. He is still to give the signal we agreed on. Make sure that he understands the urgency with which he must act if we are to succeed.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Davidson nodded.
‘Off you go then.’
Davidson turned his mount and spurred it into a trot as he headed off in search of the Spanish army.
Somerset let out a weary sigh.‘Our Spanish friends are proving to be somewhat unreliable, sir.’
‘Indeed.’ Arthur was furious, and it took some effort to keep his tone neutral as he continued. ‘There are times when one might think that they actually pose more of a danger to us than the French do. Anyway, we are where we are, Somerset. We must return to the army and pass the word for the men to stand down for a few hours. I need them alert and fresh for when the fighting starts.’
They made their way back to the flank of the British army, and were challenged by the pickets before passing on and returning to the command post behind the centre of the British line. As they arrived an officer hurried up to Arthur and saluted.
‘Sir, we have visitors. General O’Donoju and some of his staff are waiting for you, down by the headquarters tent.’
Arthur turned to look down the hillock into the small depression where a handful of lamps glimmered, hidden from French view.‘Did he explain why he is here?’
‘No, sir. I asked, but he said his message was for you, and not your underlings.’
‘He said that?’ Arthur shook his head. ‘Come, Somerset.’
They continued down the slope to the tent and dismounted alongside the Spanish horses being held by some of Arthur’s orderlies. O’Donoju was waiting inside, with four of his officers. He rose to his feet when he saw Arthur and bowed his head.
‘It is a pleasure to see you again, General Wellesley.’
‘Where is Cuesta?’ Arthur cut in. ‘He should have been at Salcidas hours ago.’
O’Donoju frowned at the informal use of his superior’s name. ‘His excellency has sent me to inform you that he has been delayed.’
‘Delayed? Why?’
The Spaniard shrugged. ‘The men were slow to break camp. The night is dark, and they do not march as fast as they do during the day.’
‘Then why did your general not take account of that, and start out earlier?’
‘I do not presume to know
Arthur turned to his aide. ‘By God, I hope you’re wrong. General Cuesta would have to be a consummate fool to let such an opportunity come to naught.’
He was about to continue when both men heard a distant clop of hooves and they turned to stare into the night. A figure on horseback emerged from the shadows.
‘Ours?’ Somerset whispered.
‘Only one way to tell,’ Arthur replied. He cleared his throat and called out, ‘Halt. Who goes there?’
The other rider reined in and hurriedly responded. ‘Cornet Davidson, of the Light Dragoons.’
‘Davidson, come here, man!’ Arthur called back.
The cornet spurred his horse forward and a moment later he reined in before his commander and saluted.
‘Did you find Cuesta?’
‘No, sir. I looked for him at Salcidas, but there was no one there, not even one of his advance patrols. So I tracked across the route he should be taking for a mile, perhaps two, and still saw no sign of him, sir. That’s when I decided I had better report back to you.’
Arthur’s jaw tightened with frustration. Where the hell was the Spanish army? By this time they should have completed deploying for their attack. He lowered his head for a moment and thought. Even if Cuesta was still moving up towards Salcidas he could not possibly be ready for at least another three hours. That would mean delaying the attack until four in the morning. It would still be dark then, and there was still a chance of surprising Marshal Victor’s men in their camp. Arthur looked up.
‘Davidson, I want you to go back and try to find Cuesta. Tell him that I have decided to delay the attack until four. He is still to give the signal we agreed on. Make sure that he understands the urgency with which he must act if we are to succeed.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Davidson nodded.
‘Off you go then.’
Davidson turned his mount and spurred it into a trot as he headed off in search of the Spanish army.
Somerset let out a weary sigh.‘Our Spanish friends are proving to be somewhat unreliable, sir.’
‘Indeed.’ Arthur was furious, and it took some effort to keep his tone neutral as he continued. ‘There are times when one might think that they actually pose more of a danger to us than the French do. Anyway, we are where we are, Somerset. We must return to the army and pass the word for the men to stand down for a few hours. I need them alert and fresh for when the fighting starts.’
They made their way back to the flank of the British army, and were challenged by the pickets before passing on and returning to the command post behind the centre of the British line. As they arrived an officer hurried up to Arthur and saluted.
‘Sir, we have visitors. General O’Donoju and some of his staff are waiting for you, down by the headquarters tent.’
Arthur turned to look down the hillock into the small depression where a handful of lamps glimmered, hidden from French view.‘Did he explain why he is here?’
‘No, sir. I asked, but he said his message was for you, and not your underlings.’
‘He said that?’ Arthur shook his head. ‘Come, Somerset.’
They continued down the slope to the tent and dismounted alongside the Spanish horses being held by some of Arthur’s orderlies. O’Donoju was waiting inside, with four of his officers. He rose to his feet when he saw Arthur and bowed his head.
‘It is a pleasure to see you again, General Wellesley.’
‘Where is Cuesta?’ Arthur cut in. ‘He should have been at Salcidas hours ago.’
O’Donoju frowned at the informal use of his superior’s name. ‘His excellency has sent me to inform you that he has been delayed.’
‘Delayed? Why?’
The Spaniard shrugged. ‘The men were slow to break camp. The night is dark, and they do not march as fast as they do during the day.’
‘Then why did your general not take account of that, and start out earlier?’
‘I do not presume to know
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