An Act Of Courage

when the rest of the army is on the march. It would be vexing in the extreme to the Corunna ranks, and doubtless we should drill to the wrong tunes. I’ve a mind that Wellesley doesn’t intend the cavalry to go at it in the old manner. To begin with, he doesn’t have enough to hurl about the battlefield knee-to-knee. This is damnable country, as you know better than do I. Patrols, scouts, videttes – that’s what Wellesley will want, not lines of sabres.’

Joseph Edmonds and Sir Edward Lankester sipped their Madeira and nodded just perceptibly.

‘And that sort of work, given officers with a good eye and a cool head, is best learned at first hand.’

Edmonds listened with especial care. Nothing so far since Lord George Irvine had assumed command disposed him to think anything other but good of his new colonel. It was not easy, however – the exercise of command by a man a dozen years his junior, and who, although he was well shot over, had seen nothing like his service. Edmonds was on his guard, therefore, half expecting (though not hoping – indeed not hoping) some betrayal of weakness of character or judgement. Yet he still saw none to speak of, even after three months’ intense study. The lieutenant-colonel’s passionate determination to get the Sixth back to the Peninsula might have appeared in other men as mere pursuit of ambition, for personal glory; but in Lord George Irvine it appeared wholly as the impulse of an instinctive soldier and a patriotic Tory. Edmonds could have no objection on either count.

Nor, indeed, would Sir Edward Lankester. He had succeeded to his father’s baronetcy not two years before, his temperament as a soldier was effortless accomplishment, and his inclinations were as Tory as those of his major and commanding officer. Without question he agreed with Lord George’s opinion that lessons were better learned hard and soon.

‘Very well, gentlemen. Let me now tell you what is in the mind of our commander-in-chief.’

It was said without the slightest condescension or self-delight, Edmonds was certain. Nor was it self- delusion: they all knew very well by now that Lord George Irvine was a coming man, and that he enjoyed the confidence, in the widest sense, of Sir Arthur Wellesley. This of itself changed the character of the regiment somewhat, for to have a lieutenant-colonel of such evident quality and influence both increased the respect in which they were held by other regiments and multiplied the prestige of every man, for the meanest dragoon was no longer a mere legionary in this army of fifty thousand, but a man with connection (only once removed) to the commander- in-chief himself. What that profited a man was another matter, but without doubt it felt better to be in a regiment commanded by the likes of Lord George Irvine than in one whose lieutenant-colonel was of no account outside.

Edmonds knew exactly the value of such a connection. They would be made privy to Sir Arthur Wellesley’s intentions, not merely to his instructions. That was a pearl of rare price to cavalry, for it was in the nature of war that events could only be dictated (if at all) before contact was made with the enemy. It was then that the cavalry – the commander-in-chief ’s eyes and ears – was of incomparable worth. Since, too, the commander-in-chief could not communicate rapidly with his cavalry when they were dispersed, much depended on the judgement of the individual cavalryman – on his coup d’oeil, as the theorists had it.

Without knowing what was in the mind of a general, forming a right judgement was a hit-and-miss affair – if, Edmonds reflected ruefully, there was anything in the mind of the general (he was certain there was nothing in ‘Black Jack’ Slade’s). Thank God that man was left behind in England – never to see service again, he prayed (not active service at any rate)! Edmonds could curse long at the very thought of Slade and the system that permitted such a knave to advance. But so it was, and there was little point in fretting about it. If Wellesley could keep the Slades out of the Peninsula then he for one would be inclined to think favourably of the commander-in-chief. And if Wellesley were to bring Paget here then he would entirely revise his opinion of him! Stapleton Cotton was no Slade – he had seen enough of Cotton to be certain of that – but he was no Paget either, and with so few cavalry at his disposal, Wellesley required a commander of genius. Edmonds was by no means certain that these general officers were universally apt.

‘Edmonds?’

‘Colonel?’

Lord George Irvine smiled. ‘You were in another place, I think.’

Edmonds glanced at his glass; it was all but full still. ‘I’m sorry, Colonel. I truly was in another place.’

‘Well, I may tell you that Wellesley intends to eject the French from the north of the country. He is determined to have them out of Oporto by May’s end.’

Sir Edward scarcely batted an eyelid, but Edmonds was at once on the edge of his seat. ‘I’m astonished. I heard that he would first drive east at Lapisse or Victor; their armies threaten Lisbon more directly than does Soult’s.’

Lord George Irvine inclined his head. ‘And that would have been your counsel would it, Joseph?’

‘By no means. If we move quickly, Lapisse and Victor can be of no assistance to Soult on the Douro, and they wouldn’t be able to take Lisbon without a deal of preparation.’ Edmonds glanced again at the map on the wall. ‘And if Soult’s driven from Oporto, then he’ll have no option but to continue north, and away from any prospect of their assisting him. The Spanish ought then to be able to tie him down in Galicia. We would then have two armies to contend with instead of three, for if we were to drive at Lapisse or Victor directly, Soult would hare down from the Douro to be at our flanks.’

‘Then we not only understand the commander-in-chief ’s intention, gentlemen, we approve it!’ Lord George Irvine knew as well as the next colonel that executing orders that were heartily disapproved of went hard with a thinking officer. ‘Cotton shall take a brigade north to make contact with the Portuguese already watching the Douro – ourselves, the Fourteenth and the Sixteenth, and the Third Germans – while Wellesley brings up the army. He’ll keep a division here for the defence of Lisbon in case there’s any move by Lapisse or Victor, and Beresford shall take one of his Portuguese brigades of infantry and another of cavalry to stand astride Soult’s route of withdrawal east, which should drive him north into Galicia. Exactly as you prescribe, Edmonds.’

Edmonds nodded, the merest confirmation – no sign of self-satisfaction.

Sir Edward Lankester, his face impassive, enjoying the comfort of a good chair and passable Madeira (though by no means fretful for the want of comfort when circumstances demanded), recrossed his legs. ‘Who shall do – how shall we call it? – the eclairage, Colonel?’

Lord George Irvine smiled. ‘You shall, Sir Edward. You will scout for Cotton’s brigade – a day ahead, if may be.’

Sir Edward’s face remained impassive. ‘Very well. Then the sooner we begin, the better.’

‘Just so, Sir Edward, just so. Shall you be ready two days hence?’

‘I trust I shall, Colonel. If I am given the requisite mules.’

Edmonds addressed the proviso. ‘A shipload arrived this morning from Algiers. I believe we may have a hundred of them.’

‘You shall have fifty in that case, Sir Edward. Enough to carry your hard feed, but it shall have to be green fodder unless I get more.’

‘That should not be too great a problem at this time of year, Colonel, although cutting it will take up a part of the day better spent.’

Lord George Irvine looked pleased nevertheless. He knew full well what the difficulties would be, but they were not such as to jeopardize the mission, and in that case there was no profit in parading them. Sir Edward Lankester understood this, evidently: an officer in command of a regiment had worries enough without those of a squadron being added to them. Yet he had known many a captain who could not feel his ease until he had acquainted his superior with every hazard and contingency in consequence of an order. Sir Edward’s was a prudent habit, too, for when he did express a concern, he could be certain that he, Lord George, would hear him the better. ‘You are well found, Sir Edward. I think your officers will enjoy the sport.’

‘I am certain of it, Colonel.’

Lord George nodded, then looked at Edmonds again – and with the suggestion of pain. ‘What are we to do with Fourth Squadron?’

‘With respect, Colonel, were I you, I should be inclined to order H Troop to march under your command, and close-by at that. Warde would understand. Joynson might then manage his own troop well enough without the worry of a full squadron – if you keep him rear.’

Lord George smiled. ‘So you may keep an eye on them, Edmonds?’

‘That would be one of the advantages of such a course.’