The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon (читаем книги онлайн бесплатно txt) 📗
‘What is it, Somerset?’
‘Might I ask what your plans are for tonight, sir? Are we to stay with Hill, or return to General Hope’s side of the river?’
Arthur thought for a moment. General Hope had only recently arrived from England and Arthur had yet to form an impression of his abilities as a field commander. As long as Hope carried out his orders and did not pursue his feint too far, and then withdrew and dug in, he and his men should not come to any grief on the other bank of the Nive. In any case, the latest reports from Arthur’s cavalry patrols indicated that the bulk of Soult’s forces were east of the river, facing Hill.
‘We shall stay here tonight. I wish to observe Hill’s attack towards Bayonne in the morning.’ Arthur turned towards Somerset and in the failing light he saw that his aide was shivering. ‘If you feel the need for some shelter, I suggest that you find us some accommodation for the night at Hill’s headquarters.’
‘Yes, sir. I’ll make arrangements directly.’ Somerset turned his horse away and spurred it after Hill and his staff. Arthur turned back towards the north and watched the enemy long enough to see them begin to light their camp fires. The French rearguard fell back over the brow of a low hill and left a thin screen of sentries to keep an eye on their enemy. There would be no fighting for what little was left of the day, and on into the night. The men on both sides were tired after months of campaigning, and the uncomfortable conditions of the winter months quenched any ardour for battle.
Satisfied that his army was secure for the night, Arthur tugged his reins and trotted his horse towards the farmhouse. All around him in the thin light of dusk many of the men of his army searched for firewood while their comrades set about finding shelter, or erecting tents where the ground was dry enough to hold a tent peg in position. The rain was falling steadily now, short steel-grey rods plunging down from the dark sagging bellies of the gloomy clouds overhead. Already the wagons and artillery teams of the army were struggling to a halt in the thick mud, despite all the whip-cracking and curses of the drivers.
Once he reached the farm buildings, Arthur dismounted outside the house and handed his reins to a groom with instructions to feed the horse and find it a dry barn for the night. Then Arthur climbed the short flight of steps to the door and entered. Inside he was greeted by a comforting wave of warmth and light and saw a small crowd of officers clustered round a large fireplace in which the farmer had lit a cheery blaze. As Arthur came in, he was offering his guests the chance to buy wine and food at premium prices.
Having taken off his coat and hat, and scraped his boots, Arthur joined the others for a dinner of stew and then retired to the farmer’s best bedroom for the night, leaving Somerset with orders that he should be woken if there was any important news, and in any case an hour before dawn. As he settled beneath his warm coverings he let his mind dwell on the comforting prospect that the defeat of Soult and the fall of Bayonne would mark an end to the long years of campaigning that had begun in Portugal and Spain before finally extending into the enemy’s own lands.
‘Sir.’ A voice broke into his slumber and Arthur grumbled and turned away, until a hand took his shoulder and shook it gently. ‘Sir, it’s Somerset. You asked me to wake you.’
Arthur blinked his eyes open and then rolled on to an elbow, facing his aide. ‘What is it? What has happened?’
‘Our outposts report that the French have gone, sir.’
‘Gone?’
‘Their sentries have pulled back, and when some of our lads followed them up they saw that there was no one left around the camp fires. Nor any sign of wagons or cannon.’
Arthur swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his boots, giving his orders as he struggled to pull them on.‘Tell Hill to send some cavalry patrols out to find the enemy. Soult may have fallen back to Bayonne, or he’s trying to get round our flank and cut us off from the bridges over the Nive.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Is there anything else?’
‘Shall I send word to General Hope about these reports?’
Arthur thought a moment and then shook his head. ‘No. There’s little point. Whatever Soult is playing at, his attention is sure to be firmly fixed on Hill’s divisions. They’re the main threat. We can inform Hope once we have a more certain grasp of Soult’s intentions.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Once Somerset had left him, Arthur stood and pulled on his dark blue jacket and fastened the buttons. The rasp of his stubble on the collar reminded him that he needed a shave, but he decided that there could be no delay in finding out what Soult was up to. Snatching up his hat, he left the sleeping chamber and strode downstairs to join Hill and his staff in the main reception room. The officers were gathered about a map table, illuminated by candles as it was still dark outside.
‘What is the position?’
Hill glanced up from the map table and nodded a greeting as he replied. ‘There’s no sign of the Frogs, aside from a few patrols a short distance from Bayonne.’
‘Any activity inside the town?’
‘Hard to tell. We’ll know more when dawn breaks.’ Hill stroked his chin anxiously. ‘Frankly, sir, I don’t like it. We’ve lost contact with the enemy and our army is divided by a river. It could be a dangerous situation.’
Arthur nodded. He felt a sick sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. Soult had slipped away and Arthur cursed himself for not pushing Hill’s men forward the previous evening, despite the muddy conditions of the road and the cold and weariness of the soldiers. The allied army might pay a bloody price for his complacency, Arthur realised.
As the first light crept into the sky he waited for news of Soult. One by one the cavalry patrols reported in and confirmed that the enemy had successfully broken contact. The only indication of the direction Soult had taken was the churned mud along the road to Bayonne.
‘Why would he fall back to Bayonne?’ Hill wondered. ‘That would give us a free hand along the entire south bank of the Adour. Why abandon the attempt to contain us?’
Before Arthur could respond there was a dull rumble away to the west. Several of the officers looked up and exchanged worried glances.
‘Cannon?’ someone suggested.
‘Of course it is,’ Arthur replied with forced calmness as he realised, all too clearly, what had happened. ‘It seems we have discovered where Marshal Soult has taken his army, gentlemen.’
‘Good God!’ Hill explained. ‘He’s gone after General Hope.’
Arthur nodded. ‘It makes sense. I have underestimated Soult. Still, General Hope should be able to hold his ground well enough while we return across the river.’ He spoke calmly, belying his cold anger at himself for handing Soult this opportunity to attack the allied army in detail. ‘Hill, leave two of your divisions here to cover Bayonne. Send the rest back to reinforce Hope. I’ll ride there directly to take charge.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Arthur glanced round at the other officers, noting the nervous expressions. ‘Gentleman, Soult may have stolen a lead on us and now we must catch up with the old fox and wring his neck. We can do it if we just keep our heads and move swiftly. Is that clear? Good. Now, Somerset, come with me.’
The bugles were calling the men to arms across the surrounding countryside as Arthur and Somerset rode out of Villefranque and galloped south, along the bank of the Nive towards the bridges at Ustaritz. To their right the sounds of cannon fire steadily increased in intensity and now there was a faint crackle of musketry that told of a sizeable engagement a mile or so to the west. From his personal reconnaissance of the country to the south-west of Bayonne Arthur knew that there were plenty of minor ridges and ravines breaking up the landscape. Thanks to the waterlogged ground Soult would be forced to advance on the two roads leading south from Bayonne. Arthur fervently hoped that the left wing of his army had obeyed the orders he had given and fortified their positions at Barroilhet and Bassussarry, blocking the roads. The scattered copses and hedgerows of the region would provide fine cover to conceal an advance and Arthur had little doubt that the enemy would have achieved a measure of surprise against Hope’s divisions. However, if they could hold on until they were reinforced then the situation could be retrieved.
