Send Me Safely Back Again (32 page)

‘The buggers wouldn’t fight on a Sunday,’ said one of his companions, a lieutenant with a pronounced stoop and arms which swung in an ungainly way as he walked.

‘Cowardly devils!’ said the ensign. ‘Want others to die to save their precious country.’ He almost spat the words in Hanley’s direction.

Plenty of rumours were spreading throughout the army since the cancellation of the morning’s attack. Hanley had already heard the one about Cuesta refusing to fight on the Sabbath. Baynes had told him it was false. ‘He gave plenty of excuses, but that was not one of them.’

The Spanish general would not attack. Every request, every reminder of their agreement by Sir Arthur, every plea, met the same stubborn response. The Army of Estremadura would not attack today and probably not tomorrow either.

‘He’s a damned old fool,’ Murray said angrily. ‘A craven relic of a man not fit to command a corporal’s guard.’

‘The Spanish say that the enemy position is formidable,’ Baynes responded, without any conviction.

‘Was it any stronger yesterday when he agreed to the plan?’

‘Then perhaps he knows something – or believes he knows something we do not.’ The merchant had then looked at Hanley. ‘See what your man has to say.’

‘If the messenger turns up.’ Espinosa’s note had said that he would try to reach him with more intelligence at the same time in the yard of an old tannery on one of three nights. No one had appeared on the first two although Hanley had waited for more than two hours after the set time.

‘Well, we can but try.’ Murray smiled. ‘Or rather you can but try. Different factions are busy accusing each other of treachery. We need to know as much as we can learn.’

It was dark by the time Hanley walked through the gateway into the courtyard. It had been years since the tannery had last been in proper use and only the faintest of odours lingered. It was a quiet part of the town, the alleys less busy, and the only houses near by were small and occupied by those who could not find or afford better. Most seemed to be empty and there was no light from any window.

The smell of horses, leather and dung was fresher inside the courtyard. Just a few days before it had served as billets to a French battery and all its horses and mules. They had chopped up the few remaining doors and shutters to burn.

‘Mapi,’ hissed a voice from the shadows.

Hanley started in surprise. He was early, and after two days with no sign of a messenger he really had not expected anyone to appear.

‘Follow me.’ The voice was familiar, and so was something
about the way the dark shape moved towards the door of the main building.

Hanley was nervous and did not really know why. He followed the man into the hall and off to a small side room which reeked of rotting meat. His boots crunched softly on something. The man lit a lamp on the table and as the light flared hordes of beetles and other vermin scuttled across the floor. There were bones in the corners of the room, and a dish with water.

‘I suspect the officers kept dogs.’ It was Espinosa himself, dressed all in black and with a hooded cloak which gave him a theatrical air. ‘How are you?’

‘Impressed by your luxurious residence.’

‘You cannot be paying me enough.’ Espinosa’s smile was faint and nervous.

‘You have papers?’

‘Nothing written. That is why I came myself. Victor knows you are here and that he is outnumbered. He began to withdraw several hours ago.’

‘He would be a fool not to, and blind if he had not realised that British as well as Spanish faced him.’

‘That is true, but he was also told early this morning. A dawn attack would still have caught him, even though surprise had gone, but as the hours passed he had his chance and so slipped away.’

‘Who told him?’ asked Hanley.

‘I do not know.’

Hanley grunted.

‘You are surely capable of working out that it would not have been in my interest to do so.’

Hanley let that pass. ‘So what else do you have to tell me? We could have guessed all of this.’

‘You have the money?’

‘What else do you have for me?’ said the Englishman, ignoring the question.

‘Plenty.’

‘I have the money,’ said Hanley.

‘Good. Commerce is so much better than mere trust. Venegas has moved.’

‘As he was supposed to.’

‘Perhaps, but I doubt he was supposed to stop. He is a long way away and no threat to Joseph or his capital. They know you are here and Victor is moving back towards them. The French may soon be able to match your numbers.’

That was bad news. The plan rested on keeping the French armies apart and beating them separately. Espinosa waited for some reaction. ‘You know, you have become more English, my friend.

‘Venegas may be about to move again,’ he said after a long pause.

‘How do you know?’ asked Hanley. It seemed that the Spaniard was aware of far more than the plans of King Joseph and the French commanders.

‘I listen, and people bring me or sell me things, so that I know the Junta in Seville has promised Venegas supreme command if he is the first one to reach Madrid. Cuesta will learn of this by tomorrow if he does not already know. You cannot expect him to care very much for the idea. So no doubt there will soon be two Spanish generals changing from lambs into lions.’

‘What of the French?’

‘Ah yes, it is so easy to forget them with so many different sides in this war. Joseph cannot flee Madrid for a second time, and so when he hears from Marshal Victor he will want to fight, but he must not lose. So he will want all the force he can find. I made one mistake in my earlier reports.’

Hanley smiled. ‘An error? You do surprise me.’

‘
Errare est humanum
after all, even for me. Sebastiani’s corps is twice as big as I thought.’ He started patting his pockets. ‘No, cannot find it. I did have a list. Perhaps twenty thousand men is a better estimate.’

That was important, and shifted the balance between the armies in favour of the French. ‘Then perhaps General Venegas was wise not to press him too hard,’ said Hanley.

‘Well, he is a hero of the war so he must also be wise, I am sure. A true hero with a pure heart and a wooden head.

‘There is more news. Soult is in charge of all the armies in the north.’

‘You have told us that already.’

‘Yes, I have, but then he was ordered to attack Portugal once more. That has changed. When he is ready he is to drive south. Napoleon writes from all the way there in Austria to tell his generals that the most important thing is to destroy the British Army.’

‘Then when will he be ready?’

‘That I do not know.’ Espinosa shrugged when he saw the Englishman’s expression. ‘Yes, I confess there are many things I do not know. He writes to Joseph asking for artillery and the horses to pull the guns. Silly fellow. Perhaps the King should write back and say that he ought to have looked after his own better in the first place.’

That suggested it would not be soon. Perhaps they had weeks before the odds would begin to shift more heavily against them.

‘I think you have time,’ said Espinosa, apparently reading Hanley’s thoughts. ‘Some time anyway. All of Spain is there to be won – or lost.’

‘And you?’

‘I do my small part.’

‘That you do,’ said Hanley thoughtfully. He reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a purse. ‘Thank you. This is well worth your price.’

‘My dear Hanley, it is worth ten times that much.’ Espinosa smiled, spreading his hands wide, before taking the money. ‘But I am not a greedy man and I love my country.’

‘It is as we agreed.’

‘Oh, I trust the English,’ said Espinosa, slipping the bag into his own pocket without looking inside. ‘However, in a spirit of trust I must now ask you to wait for ten minutes before you leave.’

‘Afraid I’ll see what you’re up to?’

‘Let us just say that I prefer to keep my dealings private. Now, I will take your hand, and bid you good night. We shall not use this place again, nor can I say whether I will come in person. In three nights go to the Church of the Holy Trinity and tell the priest that you want to light a candle and pray to St Mary of the Pillar. He will pass more information or tell you how it will come.’

‘Are you going to see Wilson?’ said Hanley abruptly as the other man was in the doorway.

‘The good Sir Robert? Why not, he is on your side.’ Espinosa pulled the hood back over his head. ‘Ten minutes, Guillermo, before you leave.’

Hanley took out his fob watch and tried to remember the game where he had won it from a captain in the light dragoons. There was no particular reason not to wait. Espinosa was no doubt dealing with others, and surely Spaniards as well as the British. None of that made his information of less value. It was barely nine, so he would not have to feel guilty about waking Colonel Murray as the man was bound to be still hard at work.

When the time passed he blew out the lamp and left, glad to leave behind the stench and the crawling things. There was a torch burning in a wall bracket out in the courtyard and that surprised him because it had not been there before. Hanley could still see the faint yellow glow of the snuffed-out lamp as he came through the black darkness of the hallway and now the torch seemed almost painfully bright.

Something was wrong. A shape moved under the arch of the gateway and he flung himself to the side as a flint sparked, powder flared and then the main charge of the musket split the night apart. Something seared his right side and Hanley fell with a grunt of pain, banging his elbow hard against the flagstones. He lay still.

The man approached cautiously, stopping after each step. He slung his musket and drew a long, slim-bladed knife. Through half-closed eyes Hanley could see that he was dark haired and had a moustache and was probably Spanish.

Hanley watched, still stunned and hurting and not knowing what to do. He had a pistol in his belt, but if he moved the assassin would surely be on him in a moment.

Boots pounded down the alley outside and there were shouts – thankfully English shouts.

‘Down here, sir, down here!’

The man ran past Hanley and into the building as a corporal and two men in greatcoats appeared under the arch.

There were explanations and delay before Hanley convinced the ensign and his patrol to look for the assassin.

‘We’re out to try to stop any theft by our fellows,’ explained the young officer. His men found nothing in the house and Hanley was not surprised. He refused their offer to take him to the surgeon.

‘It’s nothing,’ he said, ‘just a graze.’ He hoped he was right. His side throbbed and he should probably get it bound up, but he wanted to explore behind the tannery just in case there was any indication of where the man had gone.

‘Thank you again,’ Hanley said as he waved goodbye and then tried to find his way through the alleyways until he was in the right spot. He did not want to go through the house just in case the would-be assassin was watching and waiting for him. Hanley found the back door as he expected – or at least a doorway since the door itself had probably been another victim of French cooking fires.

There were no footprints or obvious trail and he was not really sure what he sought. Most of the lanes were empty, the shadows very dark, and Hanley began to wonder whether he was being wise. He followed a lane which seemed to be heading towards the more prosperous parts of town and came to the high wall of a garden. It was obviously big and belonged to a grand house and when he came to the main road, which was well lit, he could see a grand entrance with a crest carved into the stone archway.

Hanley smiled to himself and walked past before doubling back to crouch in a lane opening opposite the main entrance. This must be the house of the Conde de Madrigal de las Altas Torres.
He wondered whether La Doña Margarita was in residence, and his suspicions were confirmed when five minutes later he saw Major George Wickham swagger out into the road. Pringle and Williams had told him of the lady’s deception and the officer’s association with her.

Others passed along the street, but for a long time no one else went in or out of the house. Hanley felt a stab of pain from his side every time he shifted slightly. His elbow was sore from where it had hit the ground and he knew that he ought to take his information to Murray and Baynes. Still he waited. Then Velarde walked down the road and into the house, nodding amicably to a doorman who presumably sat unseen behind the gateway.

It was becoming so much easier for Ensign Hatch and all that Wickham had said delighted his heart. These days Hatch found himself often thinking of things to write in his next letter, playing with phrases and ideas as he went about his duties. Tonight he was in Talavera in charge of a party sent to guard the artillery park, but his sergeant had proved more than capable of regulating the sentries, and Hatch had just heard a story so wonderful that he felt the words instantly forming in his mind. An old acquaintance from the wagon train was generously obliging, giving him pen, ink and paper, and the peace of the room in use by day as their office to write in. Best of all was the rich port his host provided, for good liquor certainly aided composition. No wonder so many poets were sots!