waited for orders. Before them stood Craufurd on horseback, calmly watching as the French skirmishers swept through the village and then waited as the main column climbed up to join them. There was a pause before Arthur heard the faint rumble of thousands of boots scraping over the dried ruts of the road, and then the main body of the enemy emerged from the trees a short distance from Sula. There were three columns in the attacking force, each advancing on a company frontage of little more than a hundred men.
With standards held high, but breathing heavily from their effort to ascend the ridge, the French marched steadily over the open ground just before the crest. Ahead of the middle column Craufurd held his ground, defiantly facing the enemy.
‘By God,’ Somerset murmured. ‘He’d better do something soon, or the Frogs will skewer him where he stands.’
Arthur did not reply and remained still as he watched the spectacle. Some of the French officers had placed their hats over the ends of the swords and were waving them high overhead as they shouted encouragement to their men. There was a band at the head of the nearest column and they struck up as they approached the crest, the strident trill of brass instruments accompanied by the pounding rhythm of drums. And still Craufurd did not flinch, even as the leading enemy ranks closed to within no more than thirty paces. Arthur felt his pulse quicken and willed Craufurd to act.
Then, when the enemy was within pistol range, Craufurd snatched off his hat and twisted round to bellow at his men. ‘Now, lads! Avenge the death of Sir John Moore!’
Arthur could not help smiling faintly. The Fifty-second had been Moore’s regiment for a long time, and Craufurd’s words were bound to fire their hearts. All along the crest of the ridge the men of that regiment, and the others of Craufurd’s division, scrambled to their feet and stood ready, muskets grasped firmly in their hands. Before them, close enough to read the steely expression in the British soldiers’ eyes, the French columns stumbled to an abrupt halt. The jaunty tune that the band had been playing broke down into a cacophony before it died away completely. The officers stood frozen, their swords slipping down to their sides as they stared at the ranks of their foe that had sprung up right in front of their eyes.
A few simple commands echoed down the British line and the muskets swung up, the firing hammers clicked back, and then the order to fire instantaneously dissolved into the roar of the first volley as thousands of tiny flames darted from the muzzles of the Light Division’s muskets and rifles. The effect was even more devastating than the one that had repulsed the attack along the ridge a short time earlier. At such a close range, far more shots struck home, cutting down the heads of all three columns like a well-honed scythe slashing through stalks of wheat. Craufurd did not order another volley, but immediately commanded his men to charge. With a bloodthirsty roar the Light Division swept across the crest, the bayonets of the leading rank lowered towards the reeling Frenchmen. Then they were in amongst the enemy, stabbing, clubbing and kicking like savage furies, sparing no one as they drove Massйna’s soldiers before them. Some fought back, but they were too few and too isolated to stem the flow of redcoats, and were swiftly struck down and killed where they lay on the ground.
It took less than a minute for the charge to break the enemy attack. As Arthur watched, the enemy columns crumbled as one formation after another dissolved and the men fell back down the slope, desperate to escape the wrath of the British soldiers sweeping towards them.
‘So much for Massйna,’ Somerset grinned. ‘He won’t be trying that again in a hurry, sir.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Arthur agreed. ‘He has been taught a lesson sure enough. But if he doesn’t attack the ridge again today, then you can be sure he will move to outflank us, there to the north.’ He nodded towards the end of the ridge.
Somerset turned to examine the clear ground beyond.‘Then we will be forced to fall back, sir.’
‘Of course we will.’
Somerset looked at his commander with a surprised expression.‘Was that always your plan, sir? Then why face the enemy here?’
‘I felt it would do our men good to see the French run. Certainly, it will have stiffened the backs of our Portuguese troops, eh?’ Arthur smiled.‘Not to mention shaken the confidence of Massйna and his army.’
Somerset pursed his lips and nodded as he turned to watch the Light Division pursuing the broken enemy columns down the slope. Craufurd let his men continue for some distance before he had the recall sounded. Such was the ferocious discipline of their commander that his men responded to the trumpet’s shrill notes at once, and began to climb back towards the crest where they re-formed their companies in high spirits, slapping each other on the arm, and jeering after the enemy, until their sergeants shouted at them to still their tongues and stand to attention.
For the rest of the day Arthur watched the French lines at the bottom of the ridge, but there was no further attempt to attack. Instead he observed a column begin snaking away to his left and knew that his position on the ridge would have to be abandoned. He turned to Somerset.
‘Pass the word to the army. We fall back across the Mondego and march towards the lines of Torres Vedras.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Arthur detected a note of disappointment in Somerset’s response and offered him a smile.‘We have done our work here.’ He gestured towards the French bodies littering the slope.‘Massйna’s nose has been bloodied, and there’s something else.’
‘Sir?’
Arthur’s smiled faded a little. ‘Now the newspapers in London will have proof that the army has the measure of the French. There is no question that, man for man, we have the advantage.’
‘And yet we must retreat, sir.’
‘Retreat? Yes, that is how some will see it. But I am content to give ground to Massйna for now. He will be brought to a halt before our defences, and there he will starve, until he is forced to retreat.’ Arthur was silent for a moment before he nodded with satisfaction. ‘I have not the slightest doubt that it is now only a question of time before the tide turns in our favour.’
Chapter 17
‘Amateur dramatics?’ Arthur frowned. ‘What the devil is Massйna playing at?’
He sat back in his chair by the fireplace and folded his hands together, tapping his index fingers against his lips as he considered the news Somerset had brought him from one of the outposts on the first line of defences. ‘Tell me again, what exactly did Massйna’s officer have to say?’
Somerset was standing just inside the door to the office, and he quickly recalled the note he had received. ‘Massйna conveyed an invitation to our officers to attend a performance of
‘By God.’ Arthur shook his head. ‘One could be forgiven for thinking that England and France had been at war for the best part of eighteen years.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Somerset nodded, used by now to his superior’s sense of irony. ‘Would you like me to send orders to decline the invitation?’
Arthur thought for a moment. There had already been some criticism of his actions following the battle at Busaco.
It might not be the most glorious manner of inflicting a reverse on the enemy, Arthur mused, but it was certainly the least costly. He would have to hope that the more enlightened politicians back in England appreciated his strategy and gave him the time and support that he needed to erode and then crush the French forces in the Peninsula.
He lowered his hands and smiled at Somerset. ‘We must indulge Massйna. The longer he remains in Portugal,
