02 - Keane's Challenge (20 page)

‘No, and nor would I expect them to be. They’re conscripts, sarn’t, and look at their ages. They have no great wish to be here. But I wonder how they would do in battle.’

‘I didn’t think that was why we’d been given them, sir. I mean, I’d not feel happy standing side by side with that.’

He pointed to one of the Portuguese, a man in his late fifties or early sixties, who had sat down in the town square and was mopping the sweat from his brow. He was somewhat overweight and clearly the march had not agreed with him.

‘No, I take your point, sarn’t, but for every one like that, I would say there’s another that has the makings of a soldier. So we have the basis for a seventy-man company in the style of our own army rather than one double that size in the Portuguese fashion.’

‘Now you put it that way, sir, I suppose there are enough of them. But I thought they were here to knock down houses.’

‘Mills, sarn’t. They are here to demolish the mills. And on that count, we cannot lose any time. We must move down to the valley and destroy them before Massena takes the city.’

‘Do you think he will manage it, sir? Will Wellington do the same as before and refuse to come to their aid?’

‘Without a doubt. He has a strategy and he will stick to it. Just as he has done in the past.’

He called over Pereira. ‘Lieutenant, I have orders for your men. We are to advance into the valley of the Turonnes and up into the surrounding hills and break up the mills.’

The Portuguese walked across to him. ‘Break up the mills, sir? The flour mills? But that will ruin the people just as much as burning the crops. More so.’

‘Nevertheless, that is what we must do. We must prevent them from falling into the hands of the enemy.’

Pereira thought for a moment. ‘I can see the logic. But the reality is hardly pleasant. It is all they have.’

‘Those are my orders, lieutenant, and your men must carry them out.’

‘That will not present a problem, sir. My family may be of the ancient nobility, but me, I am a realist. A man of today. I know what must be done. Even though it will make life hard for my countrymen. They must understand this is the only way to drive the enemy from our land. Perhaps you and I might speak to the men, sir.’

‘Perhaps, yes… I’m glad that someone can see it for what it is. I hope that your soldiers share your view.’

‘They have no choice, sir. They will do what I command.’

Keane saw his chance to broach a subject. ‘You have a
sergente
.’

‘Sergente Dominguez. Yes. He was in the regular army. The men respect him.’

‘I have a mind to offer you another. My man Heredia. He needs men to command. He was a
sergente
in your regular cavalry – dragoons – before he came to join us. Would it be a problem to ask if he might attach himself to you at present?’

‘No, sir. That would not be a problem. In fact, it would be a good thing. We have too many men for one
sergente
and I am not inclined to promote any of the men from the ranks. Your man will do very well with us.’

Keane thanked him and was relieved to have engineered Heredia’s temporary removal from their company. But he knew that at some point honour would demand that he and Silver fight and he wondered whether it might not be better to get it over and done. First, though, their pressing priority was the destruction of the mills. They were of two types. The water mills that
sat in the valleys, and on the hills the tall windmills. Keane thought it best to start with the former.

*

Down in the valley of the Turrones, where the water flowed fast enough to turn the huge wooden wheels of the mills, they found the first of their objectives. This being their first, Keane had ridden down with a party of two platoons of the Ordenanza, accompanied by Ross, Garland, Heredia in his new role and a half-troop of the hussars as escort. The water mill had been abandoned by its inhabitants in the face of the French advance, for which small mercy at least Keane was thankful. Its location and a few forgotten treasures told of its history as a place of love and laughter. And above all a place of work. For the apparatus was still functioning and the owners had left behind many of their possessions, suggesting that they hoped to return. But it was too late for niceties. Keane took Ross aside.

‘Divide up what you can of what’s left here, sarn’t. Make sure our lads get the better part of it. Shoes, boots, anything usable.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Ross began to scour the modest shelves and presses of the mill house and within a matter of minutes had made a pile in the centre of the room. Boots, blankets, old shirts, wine flasks, a few surprisingly full, knives and forks; anything that might come in useful on campaign made its way into the pile.

Keane in the meantime had walked outside and was offering Pereira his wisdom on the best way to demolish a house. ‘We need to take it down from the base. So if we remove the doorways it should fall in on itself.’

Heredia spoke up. ‘Sir, surely all that we need to do here is remove the wooden paddles from the wheel. Without those, the mill cannot function. It is useless.’

‘Of course, but what if the French manage to construct a replacement. To do the job well, we should take down the house.’

‘But, sir. Surely we do not expect the French to sit in this country for months? We expect to meet them in battle. We are hardly going to leave them in possession of half of Portugal.’

Keane, knowing about the defensive lines being constructed by the duke, was fully aware that this was precisely what he expected the French to do. Marshal Massena would be given battle. But after that, as Grant had told him, the duke intended to retreat with the people of Portugal behind his lines and leave the French to the land, a land from which they could not possibly live. That was why the job had to be done properly. So that the French engineers would have no hope of salvaging the ruined mills. But of course for the present all of this had to remain a secret.

‘It may seem the easier option, Heredia, but my orders are to demolish the mills, not merely the blades or the sails. So that is what we are to do. However long it might take.’

He thought of Leech, still recovering in Celorico. How he missed his skill with explosives. The man could have had this mill destroyed with powder in an hour. Now they were reduced to breaking it by brute force. Garland took the first blow, wielding a two-handed sledgehammer they had brought down from the camp. He smashed the head into the keystone with little effect. But on the second blow the stone seemed to shift and on his third strike it moved back.

Keane stopped him. ‘Wait. The place might come down.’ He looked at the wall and tried to estimate where the rubble might fall. ‘All of you, move back. Stand away.’

Dominguez shouted at the Ordenanza, who scurried away from the mill.

Keane moved back a few paces with the others and called to Garland, ‘One more hit, then run like hell.’

Garland turned and grinned, then, having spat on his huge hands, took up the hammer again. Raising it above his head, he smashed it against the keystone which flew away and into the house, leaving the doorway with a yawning gap. For a few moments nothing happened, and in that instant Garland turned and ran towards them. Then, as they all watched, the sides of the doorway began to move inwards and down, and as they did so the wall above them slipped down. Instinctively they all moved back again. Further now, and it was just as well. For the wall was falling now, stones slipping away from each other as it plummeted earthwards. It hit the ground with an ear-splitting crash, sending up a huge cloud of white dust. They covered their eyes and turned away from the flying rubble. Then all was silence. Peering through the dust, Keane attempted to make out what was left of the mill. Gradually the air began to clear and they could see that while the front wall had collapsed completely, the other three still stood, although that on the left, closest to the apparatus, was leaning in as if it might easily fall at any moment.

‘That was well done, Garland. Show them how it’s done. Now, all of you, lay in there and get the rest of it down. And take care. Well done. That’s a good start.’

Taking Ross with him, he rode back up to San Pedro. The place was quiet and there was no sign of Sanchez. A mist had begun to descend upon the hillside and the air had turned almost tropically humid. It reminded him of evenings in Egypt when the cloth stuck to your back and the neck rag clung to you like a stranglehold. A few of the guerrillas were sitting around a table at the old posada and the remaining half-company of
Ordenanza were being drilled by Pereira. He found Gabriella, Martin and Silver in their part of the encampment engaged in the everyday drudgery that went with being on campaign. Silver was sewing up a tear in a pair of overall trousers while Gabriella sat cooking and singing what sounded like a lullaby. It crossed his mind that she might be pregnant, but he dismissed it. Silver would not be so stupid. Martin was picking lice from his hair with a bone comb he had bought from one of the guerrillas.

Keane did not stay for long. He was impatient to hear whether there had been any word from the forward observers. He had sensed for some time that Massena would make his move soon and had sent word of his fears back to Almeida and Celorico via the telegraph network. He rode fast through the misty afternoon up to the hill station near Nava d’Aver, which as usual was being manned by Archer. Dismounting, he wasted no time.

‘Make a signal to the forward station at Alameda. I need a report from them.’

‘I have, sir, but there has been no reply. Not for an hour or more. And now this mist’s come down, I can’t really see.’

Keane put the telescope to his eye and looked towards the distant signal tower, through the haze. For some minutes it seemed he was searching in vain, so thick was the mist. Then, though, there was a gap in the greyness and the tower came into view. But it was no longer there. He could see the pieces of wooden post, lying around the summit, broken up, and by training his glass down the hill and into the valley, he caught sight of three men on horseback, the tower garrison, riding as fast as they were able. Behind them a dust cloud showed pursuers, lots of them, and as he looked the sun’s rays struck through the mist and glinted off bronzed helmets.

‘Christ. The French. Send a signal to Craufurd’s post. I’ll give you the numbers.’

He felt in his pocket for the code book, recently retrieved from Archer and, opening it, found the numbers. ‘French advancing. About to abandon station. Will ride to join you.’

Archer began to make the signal and within a few minutes it was done. Then, as they had been ordered, Keane and he took down the apparatus and broke the posts in half with the axe provided, before riding away down the hillside. They did not look back and arrived in San Pedro, breathless on sweating horses, just as Don Sanchez was coming in from a routine patrol.

The colonel looked at Keane. ‘You look worried, captain.’

‘The French are coming. We have to leave.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘They’re right behind us, colonel. Dragoons.’

‘Captain, are you certain? Did we have a signal?’

‘We did not need one. I saw the station destroyed, the garrison chased off. They’re probably dead by now. Didn’t have a chance. We’re pulling back.’

‘Pulling back?’

‘Unless you want to be slaughtered where you stand. There’s at least a regiment of dragoons riding for here, and I dare say the rest of Massena’s army not far behind them.’

Without waiting for another word from Sanchez, and still mounted, he found Ross. ‘Sarn’t Ross, we’re pulling out. Have the men bring what they can. Are the others back from the mill?’

‘No, sir, haven’t seen them.’

‘Then I’ll go for them.’ He glimpsed Sanchez and his patrol. ‘Colonel.’

Don Sanchez turned.

‘Can you spare those lancers?’

‘Yes, of course, but why?’

‘The Ordenanza are down in the valley at the mill, directly in the line of the French.’

He turned his horse and, followed by twenty of Sanchez’s lancers, made off down the hill. By the time they reached the valley, Heredia and the Portuguese were on the move. Heredia was leading the Ordenanza on foot up the hill from the mill, with Martin and the hussars providing a mounted rearguard, their carbines at the ready. Keane signalled the sergeant of lancers to take his men to join the Germans and sought out Heredia.

‘You saw them?’

‘Yes. I had a picket posted to watch the road. Just in case. He saw you and Archer and then a crowd of horsemen.’

‘You did well.’

‘Do you think we’ll make it before they catch us?’

‘It may be better to stand here. Form square.’

Heredia looked doubtful. ‘What? Do you really think we can do it, sir? With these men?’

‘What choice do we have. If they catch us on the run, we’re done for. It’s our best hope.’

Keane surveyed the ground. The mill was some four hundred yards below them now and they were struggling in loose formation up the open side of a gentle hill. There was light cover on the ground, of no use against cavalry. But away to the left at about thirty yards stood a coppice of trees.

Keane shouted to the cornet of the German hussars who was standing with his men further down the slope. ‘Mister von Cramm, to me.’ The young officer trotted up. ‘Sir?’

‘Lieutenant, I want you to take your men with those lancers
over there and hide them in that wood. Stay close to the edge.’

‘Sir?’

‘We’re going to make a stand. Here. Right here. We’ll drive off the French and then get back to the camp as if the devil were on our tail. The infantry will form a square, and once we’ve let off a couple of volleys and they come to a halt, you will come out of the trees and have at them. That should send them running.’

Von Cramm smiled, confident in Keane’s experience, and rode off, and Keane watched as he ordered the hussars and dragoons to wheel away and up the hill towards the little wood.

He rode down to Pereira, who was with the Ordenanza. ‘Lieutenant, have your men form square. Do you think you can do it?’