A Close Run Thing

‘It makes no sense to me, either,’ said Lankester.

‘Great heavens, what a beginning,’ groaned Edmonds. ‘We have been here these two months and we are now caught napping. Lankester, send if you will a galloper — no, you can spare no officers — send an orderly to General Grant to verify those instructions for Ninove. He cannot have failed to appreciate, surely, that we are south of there while everyone else is north or west. Meanwhile I shall assemble the squadrons in Grammont.’

Corporal Collins and his coverman took off down the road towards Grant’s headquarters while the remainder of ‘A’ Troop mustered by the light of their camp-fires. The moon had set at midnight, and it was still pitch-dark. Lankester addressed his troop in the most composed manner imaginable: the French were on the move, he began; the troop would be likewise soon, but they should not expect any more intelligence since the duke himself found it in scarce supply. ‘What I can promise you, however, with as much certainty as maybe, is that if you do not fill your bellies with something warm within the next half-hour there will be scarce the chance to do so in a week!’

By the time that Edmonds got the troops together from the outlying billets it was after five and there was reasonable light, but Collins had brought back a change of rendezvous and command, the purpose of which was not immediately apparent to the major.’ Vivian’s brigade? Why the change? But no matter. Mr Barrow!’ he called briskly to the adjutant, ‘send an orderly to Sir Hussey Vivian’s headquarters. The regiment will now march on Enghien — column of troops, if you please.’ And, turning back to Lankester, he asked quietly: ‘Why do you suppose we are changing brigades?’

‘Well, if Hervey’s own understanding of the duke’s design is correct, I suspect Vivian’s is going on to the left flank to keep contact with the Prussians and will need an extra regiment.’

‘So you think Hervey’s excursions all over Brabant these past few weeks will repay his efforts?’ smiled Edmonds.

‘He supposed better what would be the French point of attack than did anyone. I should have wagered a hundred guineas Bonaparte would strike towards Ostend!’

‘He may do so yet! But I tell you this, Lankester: there is not space between here and Brussels to check them if things continue as they have begun. I cannot for the life of me think why Uxbridge has not formed divisions, even if there were no chance to gather for drill. There are just too many brigades loose, and we have not a clue as to our purpose. Thank heavens at least that we have brigadiers who know what they’re about! Can you imagine Slade in such a crisis?’

Lankester could, only too well. But at Enghien, which they reached soon enough, they were not enlightened much. Indeed, they became materially confused, too, since a large part of the army seemed to be trying to push south and east through the town, guns and waggons blocking the roads as completely as ever the enemy could. Vivian’s orders, which now arrived by galloper, were to move on to Braine-le-Comte, twelve miles to the south-east astride the Mons-Brussels highway. It would have been an easy enough march under normal conditions, but the road was now jammed with traffic, the heat was intense and they were not able to water in the town. Even Hervey, who had ridden these roads often enough, knew of no easier way to Braine. There seemed no alternative but to push down the road, if such it could be called, taking to the fields when progress was altogether halted. In the event they did well to reach the town at four in the afternoon, but there was still no sign of Vivian.

By now the sound of gunfire was quite distinct, although from which direction it was uncertain. It seemed principally to be from the south-east, but at other times it seemed equally to be almost due east, towards Nivelles. Edmonds took a bold decision to alter their line of march, since gunfire due east (as he perceived the duke’s design from Hervey’s telling) threatened the worst. Scarcely had the Sixth got nosebags on their hot and hungry animals than Edmonds ordered ‘Mount’ to be sounded.

There was a sudden commotion in ‘A’ Troop. One of the horses, a fractious gelding that more than one rider had cursed as a rig, lashed out with both hind legs in the tight press and struck a mare in the rank behind. She squealed and threw her rider, who managed nevertheless to keep hold of the reins, and then stood quite still on three legs, the off-fore hanging uselessly like a rag arm. Her dragoon quickly recovered himself, took one look at the leg and saw that the cannon bone was shattered. Immediately, he primed his pistol and put it to her head, but he held it at too inclined an angle and with insufficient grip so that, when he fired, the ball scraped along the horse’s skull and off to a flank, striking another dragoon in the thigh. The pistol flew from the dragoon’s hand with the excessive recoil, breaking his wrist, and the flash and report sent the mare into a frenzy.

‘Jesus Christ!’ spat Serjeant Armstrong, springing from his own horse on to the startled mare’s neck. ‘Where’s the farrier, in God’s name!’

But the farrier was with the others at the back of the column, and still they could not calm the mare. Only a blanket over her head settled things. Hervey made his way through the press with his carbine as half a dozen dragoons got her down on her side and others made space. Seeing what must be done, he pushed a cartridge into the breech, put the muzzle in the fossa above her left eye and aimed at the base of the opposite ear — just as Daniel Coates had taught him. He pulled the trigger. The mare kicked out, twitched for a few seconds, and then lay still.

Armstrong began cursing all and sundry for their clumsiness before Captain Lankester rode up and took in the scene. ‘Very well, then, gentlemen, first blood to the French. Let us see to it that they have no more here.’

‘A’ Troop resumed the march subdued, sheepish almost. And an even more difficult march it was, since the road was no better now than a cart-track, though it led straight to Nivelles, and then beyond to Quatre-Bras. They could see nothing of the fighting, however, as they approached Quatre-Bras about eight, the sun setting behind them. The village, and the important crossroads from which it derived its name, was screened by dense woodland. But the noise, louder though not as intense as it had been in the afternoon, was unmistakable, and cannon shot flew over from time to time. Edmonds was relieved nevertheless. Hervey’s appreciation had been correct, for as they neared the trees he saw at last Major-General Sir Hussey Vivian.

‘Well done, Edmonds! I am sorely glad of seeing you,’ called his brigadier. ‘What a beginning! I am only just arrived myself. Come, we must find what we are to be about up there,’ he said, nodding in the direction of the village.

As Vivian and Edmonds entered Quatre-Bras they were met by one of Uxbridge’s gallopers in as great a composure as could be imagined. And his instructions astonished them further, for all that Uxbridge wanted was for them to bivouac in place, with just a field officer’s patrol out on the left flank to make contact with the Prussians.

‘The Sixth to take the patrol, then, please, Edmonds. I have still to collect the Germans from Nivelles somehow,’ said Sir Hussey, his hussars of the King’s German Legion having had a greater distance to march than even theirs.

Lankester made his rounds before taking the picket out. ‘What did I say at muster?’ he called here and there with a wry smile. ‘You shall not see your baggage this side of Brussels! Plenty of green fodder to cut, though. Put your backs into it, boys!’ Choosing a lieutenant for the patrol caused him no great thought: Hervey’s German and his familiarity with the country were singular.

Indeed, both skills were to prove inestimable since the moon was low and, though they probed all the way down the road almost as far as Ligny, they could make no contact whatever with the Prussians. Working their way back to Quatre-Bras soon after midnight, the moon having set, was even more perilous than the ride out: Lankester would later reckon it to be among the most hazardous essays of his life, and more than once Hervey’s German was the saving of them as nervous Dutch patrols beat about the country. At about three a Prussian hussar came into the outpost (which Lankester had finally settled one league from the crossroads) with intelligence of the Prussians’ battle around Ligny. After Hervey had questioned him (the hussar’s Brandenburg was the clearest German he had ever heard), he was escorted to Vivian’s headquarters in Quatre-Bras.

‘Ill news indeed,’ said Lankester when he was gone. ‘I had not expected to hear of such a reverse. Which way do you suppose the Prussians will retire?’

Hervey peered at his map by the light of the outpost’s fire. ‘Well, we must hope they do fall back on Wavre as they are meant to. Lord Fitzroy’s ADC says the duke has consummate trust in Prince Blucher. He says the old marshal would die in the saddle rather than not keep his word to him.’

‘And what will the duke do now?’