‘That may be so.’ Arthur rubbed his forehead. ‘The fact is that our Spanish allies have won all too few victories over the French. Cuesta himself was badly beaten at Medellin back in April. Still, if we combine our strengths we should be able to give a decent account of ourselves when we meet the enemy. The latest intelligence reports say that Marshal Victor’s corps is defending the approaches to Madrid. I am told he has little more than twenty thousand men. If that’s true, then if we combine with Cuesta we should outnumber Victor two to one. That should be enough to guarantee us a victory.’
Somerset tilted his head to one side. ‘I hope so, sir. Provided General Cuesta knows his business.’
Arthur shrugged. ‘Well, I shall only be in a position to judge that once I have had the chance to meet the man.’ He paused. ‘Pardon me. I meant to say his excellency.’
Somerset chuckled for a moment before he asked,‘Do you intend to accept Cuesta’s claim to overall command of our combined forces?’
Arthur’s eyes widened. ‘By God, man, are you quite mad? Of course not. We have a common enemy, that is all. I command this army, not Cuesta. That we are here in the Peninsula is down to the pursuit of the British interest in this war. At present it suits us to assist the Spanish, but we have written them no blank cheque. On that account you can rest assured.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Somerset looked relieved.
‘Now then, the interruption is over.’ Arthur gestured to the paperwork on the table. ‘Come, let us finish this and get some rest. I suspect we will need it sorely in the days to come.’
Arthur sat in his saddle in silence. Behind him the thirty dragoons of his escort were halted, under strict orders not to make a sound as they waited in the darkness for the Spanish guide to return. He had reached the army in the morning, presenting his credentials from General O’Donoju, and been escorted into Arthur’s presence. The guide was a young peasant, dressed in a crude jerkin and filthy shirt and trousers. He wore a straw sun hat and rode on a mule which was accompanied by a swirling cloud of insects. The boy spoke only a few words of English and Arthur had been obliged to summon one of his Castilian-speaking staff officers to interpret. Despite promising that he could take Arthur to the fort, the youth had lost his way at dusk and the small party had been led up one path after another into the hills, before backtracking and trying yet another. The map that Arthur had brought with him was useless, with little reliable detail beyond the course of the river and the towns and villages lining the route to Madrid.
There was a sudden scrape of gravel on the track ahead and Arthur felt his muscles tense. His mount sensed the change and raised its head, ears twitching. The sound came again, stopped, and then a low voice sounded from the shadows.
‘English . . . English, where you?’
Arthur felt the tension drain from his muscles as swiftly as it had come. ‘Here!’
The guide clicked his tongue and flicked a cane on his mule’s rump as he came forward and then reined in a short distance from Arthur.
‘I find the fort! You come. This way.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘Come, come.’
Arthur held up his hand to stop the guide and turned back to the column. ‘Lieutenant, I’d be obliged if you translated.’
When the dragoon officer had joined him Arthur nodded towards the guide.‘Ask him if he is certain he has found the right path this time.’
There was a brief exchange before the lieutenant turned back to Arthur.‘He says it is. He also says that General Cuesta is not pleased that you failed to arrive at the appointed time.’
‘Really? Perhaps if he had provided us with a proper guide instead of this halfwit then I would have been there long ago . . . No, don’t translate that, you fool. Just tell him to lead us to the fort without any further delay.’
The youth beckoned to Arthur and turned his mule back up the track and Arthur hurriedly spurred his horse into a walk before he could lose sight of the guide. The track wound its way between two hills and then began to climb a steep incline. At length Arthur could see a glow at the top of the slope above them and then, as the track evened out, he saw the walls of an old fort ahead of them, brilliantly illuminated by the torches that flickered along the battlements. As the guide led them towards the gate Arthur could see that a company of soldiers had formed up on either side of the track, muskets resting on shoulders as they waited. A figure on horseback sat before the gate, watching and waiting. He shouted an order over his shoulder and there was further commotion within the fort as men hurried to take up their places. Arthur recognised the officer as General O’Donoju and offered a salute as he rode up.
O’Donoju’s sword rasped from his scabbard and the men of what Arthur realised was an honour guard shuffled one foot out and presented their muskets to greet the English general.
Arthur bowed his head to either side and then smiled at O’Donoju. ‘My thanks for such a fine greeting.’
The Spaniard shrugged. ‘His excellency gave the order to welcome you formally, some five hours ago.’
Arthur took a sharp breath. ‘And I would have been here five hours ago if I had been provided with a guide who knew the route.’ Arthur gestured to the boy, who smiled uncertainly as the two officers conversed in English.
O’Donoju glanced at the boy. ‘He claimed to know the area well enough. He lied and I’ll have him flogged.’
‘There’s no need for that. The fault is with the man who hired him.’
The Spaniard stiffened indignantly before he replied. ‘I will punish all those I hold responsible, seсor. Now, if you would follow me I will take you into the presence of his excellency.’
Without waiting for a reply he wheeled his thin mount round and trotted through the gate into the fort, while Arthur led his escort between the ranks of the Spanish soldiers. He examined them closely by the flickering light cast by the torches on the wall. They seemed to know their drill well enough, but they looked lean and hungry and their uniforms were worn and dirty and the barrels and bayonets of many of the muskets were spotted with rust.
The horses’ hooves echoed off the walls of the arched gateway and then Arthur emerged into the courtyard of the fort. Three sides of the paved area were lined with ranks of soldiers, save for a gap directly opposite the gate where steps climbed up to the inner keep. In front of the steps stood a crowd of gaudily uniformed officers, and before them a large, very overweight officer sat on a horse. His uniform coat seemed to be so smothered with bejewelled decorations, ribbons and gold lace that Arthur wondered how his horse could endure such a burden. Two men stood either side of the horse, firmly grasping the rider’s boots, and Arthur realised that they were there to hold him in place and stop him toppling out of his saddle.
An order was shouted and the soldiers stamped to attention and presented their muskets. A quick glance showed that these men were in the same sorry condition as those outside the gate. Arthur gestured to the lieutenant to halt the escort and then continued across the courtyard alone, stopping his horse a short distance in front of the other man. O’Donoju had wheeled his horse round and stood by his commander’s side, ready to interpret.
Arthur cleared his throat. ‘I am Sir Arthur Wellesley, commander of his majesty’s army in the Peninsula. I take it that I am addressing his excellency General Cuesta?’
The man nodded his heavy jowls and spoke curtly.
‘His excellency wants to know why you are late, Sir Arthur,’ said O’Donoju.
‘You know why, but just tell his excellency that we lost our way in the dark.’
Cuesta’s lips lifted in a slight sneer as he spoke to his interpreter.
‘His excellency trusts that you will not make a habit of leading your men in the wrong direction.’
‘Assure him that it will not happen again, and that I hope that we might both lead our men in the direction of victory from now on.’
The answer seemed to gratify the old officer, who Arthur guessed must be in his sixties at least. He muttered to O’Donoju and then growled an order at the two men propping him up. At once they began to help him down from his saddle with much grunting of effort as O’Donoju bowed to Arthur.
‘His excellency will wait for you in his office, while you are introduced to his staff.’
