Date: Wed, 1 Mar 2017 17:46:26 +1300
From: arthur carkeek <artcart65@gmail.com>
Subject: Drummer Boy II Chapter 11

DRUMMER BOY
CHAPTER 11
BOOK 2
THE ROAD NORTH
BY ARTHUR


CONTACT AUTHOR:
artcart25@gmail.com


The 22nd of July dawned with clear skies and from where Thomas looked over
the dry plains below, he could see the two great armies trying to outflank
each other. To the south stood Marmont's divisions while those of
Wellington were lined up to the north and east while Wellington observed
his enemy from the high ground behind the town of Arapiles.

To Thomas it looked much like a board game as the armies worked to find a
weakness in their enemy's lines. At this stage Thomas did not know if he
should bring his own men into the action as this was not the sort of
fighting they had trained for and Olivenca was still fresh in his mind.

At first he saw the two great army's probing the others defences and then
pull back to adjust and look for another way to take the day. Thomas
watched from his vantage point at the small skirmishing fights with
interest. It was the first time he had been able to stand away and above a
really big battle and not be involved, it also gave him the chance to see
how each army manoeuvred for the best advantage; something he had not been
able to watch before.

As the morning wore on and into the early afternoon it soon became apparent
that the French Marshal, Marmont; had been able to get some of his
divisions away from the main lines and was intent on attacking the English
lines on the east flank. Thomas watched as the battle plan unfolded before
his eyes, that the French now seemingly had a distinct advantage there was
little doubt. It was not long before both Thomas and the French got a
surprise.

Wellington had held back one of his most prized divisions for just such an
occasion, With the French divisions fully extended on the eastern flank of
the English lines, Wellington released his reserve 3rd division led by
General Packenham along with D'Urbans Cavalry; they were to be followed a
little later by General Leith's 5th Division and supported by General
Bradford's Portuguese Brigade but it was General Packenham's Division and
D'Urbans Cavalry that was the real undoing of the French attempt to
outflank Wellington's army.

As Thomas watched the manoeuvring from his vantage point, he caught sight
of one of the companies forcing its way deeper into the ranks of the French
Infantry. Even from where he stood he could see the bitter fighting that
was going on as the front ranks came together in vicious hand to hand
battles. Something suddenly took hold of Thomas as he watched this
particular company fight its way forward.

It was a little ahead of the other companies and appeared to be led by a
younger Officer; perhaps a Second Lieutenant, the men with him were
fighting with bayonet and musket butts, when they were no longer useful in
the close hand to hand the men resorted to hand axes and wooden handled
maces mounted with cast iron tops.

Thomas could easily see from his better position that the forward company
could be in danger of being cut off at any moment as most of the other
companies were a little behind and the usual close ranks no longer gave
them as much protection on the flanks.

With total disregard for his previous decision to avoid any part of the
confrontation, Thomas called Estaban and Carmelo to his side and gave them
orders to ready Pablo's company of Cavalry. Without a thought, Thomas
turned his horse towards the battling company and led the Cavalry charge
with Estaban and Carmelo by his side, their advantage of height and the
slope of the low ridge gave them an extra impetus as they charged towards
the men below.

On the plain below a small ridge, Ensign (Second Lieutenant) Pratt of the
2/30th foot of General Leith's 5th Division tried to hold his position at
the head of his company. This was his first major battle and he did not
want to disappoint or fail in this his first command. The fighting was
vicious and reminiscent of an ugly brawl as he and his men turned into
something akin to feral animals.

The shouts and curses were interspersed with the cries of wounded men and
the clashing of metal weapons or the heavy dull thud of musket butts. The
smell of blood and dust filled the air as he and his men pushed forward and
deeper into the French lines; his uniform was no longer neat and clean and
even one shoulder of his once smart red jacket was torn by a close thrust
of a French Bayonet.

It was one of those strange pauses that could occur during even the hardest
of battles that drew Ensign Pratt's eyes forward and at first he could not
believe what he was seeing; just one hundred yards ahead of where he and
his men sweated and fell were the French Colours and Eagle of the French
22nd Regiment; Ensign Pratt had just seen something that would give him an
inhuman strength to advance but would his remaining men be able to breach
the stoic French guard around the famous colours.

From his vantage point on the heights of the Lesser Arapiles ridge,
Wellington saw General Packenham's 3rd Division along with D'Urbans Cavalry
slam heavily into the leading division of the French General Thomieres
army. The attack had been so effective and destructive which resulted in
the death of General Thomieres and it was not long before Wellington sent
orders for Leith's 5th Division along with Bradford's Portuguese Brigade to
also attack General Maucune's Division. The results were the same as before
as the well drilled red coated troops tore apart the French lines.

All over the plain where the French had thought they had gained an
advantage now became a disaster of great magnitude as one after the other
of the French Divisions began to crumble under the power of the English and
Portuguese attacks. The final attack by Le Marchant's Heavy Cavalry which
swept into and through General Brennier's Division and caused total havoc,
finally broke the back of the French attempt to outflank Wellington's army.

For Ensign Pratt it was another part of the battle that he had little
knowledge or interest in; his sole objective was now plainly in sight and
this was the only part of the battle he was for the moment, interested in.

Ensign Pratt gripped the barrel of his empty pistol a little tighter in his
left hand that he now used as a club as he swept his sword into the neck of
a nearby French soldier as his men struggled around him.

Ensign Pratt had to spit twice to clear his throat from the dust and powder
smoke that drifted over the battle so he could call his men to order; a
plan had come to mind as he defended himself against the continuous attack
by the French troops.

Ensign Pratt raised his bloody sword above his head as he yelled with all
his might although it did come out a little croaky but the effect was what
he wanted.

"Form a wedge on me."

Ensign Pratt had to yell twice to get the notice of his struggling men, or
what was left of them but they were soon by his side in a wedge formation
as he turned his eyes towards the French Colours. In a final all out
effort, Ensign Pratt led his men on a mad rushing charge to break through
the French ahead of him and then attempt to make for the Colours now
surrounded and defended by a full company of hard bitten and stoic French
troops.

The enemy seemed to suddenly disappear before his clubbing and slashing,
many now retreating in total disorder but Ensign Pratt only had eyes for
the greatest prize a soldier could covet.

As he and his men broke through the final line of troops, Ensign Pratt saw
the Colours only fifty yards ahead but the guard was ready and waiting for
him and his men, their reduced numbers were now facing charged muskets and
willing defenders. Ensign Pratt called for his men to halt and charge
muskets, that they may well be going to their deaths was evident on all
their faces as they quickly loaded empty muskets and pistols.

The French Colour Guard had now formed three ranks facing the English Red
Coats; they felt confident in their superior numbers and better position;
the defence of the Colours was everything to these hard bitten men of
France and they would not relinquish them easily.

Ensign Pratt was about to give the order to advance when he heard a
thundering of hooves to his right; had he been caught out by French
Cavalry? If this was so then he and his men could count their lives in
seconds and not hours; against French Cavalry they had little hope of
survival let alone a chance to take the Colours. Ensign Pratt could give
only one order.

"Form Squares and prepare for Cavalry."

With a square of two ranks formed, Ensign Pratt; from his position at the
centre, turned towards where he heard the Cavalry; what met his eyes raised
considerable doubt and some concern. He had never seen Cavalry like that
which was now coming at a gallop towards where he stood with his men; the
French also seemed confused at the sudden appearance of the black uniformed
Cavalry.

The Cavalry swept over the plain towards the seeming standoff of the two
protagonists. When they were no more than a few hundred yards from the
small tableau, the black clad Cavalry formed into two ranks and swept
towards the French Colour Guard; one rank riding across the front of the
French lines and the other to the rear.

The French were far too slow to react to the sudden new events and the
Cavalry were standing in their stirrups and firing muskets as they swept
past the shocked French troops. Being under attack from both the front and
rear at the same time only caused more confusion in the French lines as the
Officers tried to decide which way to send their fire orders.

Before the French could decide on which part of the Cavalry was the most
dangerous it was already too late; the Cavalry had swept past firing both
barrels of their strange muskets and leaving behind bleeding and dying
ranks of French Guards. As the Cavalry swept past they rode only for a few
more yards before swinging their horse around and taking a position of
three ranks just out of musket range while they reloaded their unusual
muskets.

Ensign Pratt, while overawed by the sudden turn of events did not lack in
understanding as he saw the devastation of the French defenders; he also
noticed the black clad Cavalry was not attempting to charge again but sat
their horses just out of range to watch what Ensign Pratt wanted to do; he
did not need to be told twice or to even think about his next actions.

Ensign Pratt raised his sword and yelled as loud as he could.

"Fix bayonets; CHARGE."

Ensign Pratt led by example, something his men could understand and
followed with loud yells and curses as they surged forward towards the
French defenders whose lines had been completely broken by the Cavalry
charge; they did not even have time to form ranks for volley fire before
the young Ensign and his men were amongst them with bayonet, knife, axe and
mace.

The fight was over far faster than Ensign Pratt thought it would be and
suddenly he was holding aloft a black staff with a golden Eagle at the top
and the French Colours in his young hands; around him the last of his men
stood in awe of what they had just done; in this day and age it was almost
unheard of to carry off the Colours of the enemy.

As he stood with the French Colours in his hand Ensign Pratt heard the
sound of massed hooves moving in his direction; was it to be that in his
finest hour he would have to relinquish the Colours to a foreign power. He
and his men were outnumbered and out gunned by the strange black clad
Cavalry; there was little he could do if the newcomers insisted he hand
over his trophy.

As the massed Cavalry drew closer Ensign Pratt noticed that at least three
of the riders at the front wore fine gold braid on their shoulders and
around the sleeves of their black jackets; it did not take a genius to
recognise he was in the presence of Senior Officers even though their
allegiances were in doubt or at best unknown.

Ensign Pratt did what any good young Officer would do; he drew himself to
attention and stood waiting to be told by a superior what he had to do. The
Cavalry stopped only yards from where Ensign Pratt and his remaining men
stood at attention, the three Senior Officers rode closer while the others
stayed back with their muskets resting on their thighs as though prepared
for anything untoward.

Ensign Pratt saluted as the three Officers stopped nearby and looked down
at him from their saddles; he was momentarily surprised at how young they
all looked but a bigger shock soon hit him as he heard the younger of the
three address him with the accent of a London dock worker.

"I wish to know whom I am addressing Sir?"

"Ahh...err... Ensign Pratt of the 2/30th Foot Sir."

"Well met Mister Pratt, you and your men fought well and deserve your
victory; I hope your valour will not go unnoticed by your superiors."

"Uhm...Thank you Sir, do you wish to carry off the colours Sir?"

"Not at all Mister Pratt, we just wanted to even the odds a little, the
victory is entirely yours and well deserved it was."

 "Thank you Sir, and to whom do I owe our lives Sir?"

"Ah yes, well Mister Pratt it is perhaps in your best interest not to know
that at this time; perhaps some time in the future we may meet again and I
can pass that information on to you. For now I would suggest you take your
well earned trophy and enjoy your victory. It was a very brave charge
Mister Pratt; I only hope you live long enough to benefit from it. I will
say my farewell Ensign, perhaps we will meet again."

"Uhm...thank you Sir and thank you for your timely intervention; I am sure
I would have lost many more men if you had not intervened on our behalf."

"Think nothing of it Mister Pratt; we are all here to see the last of the
French in these lands."

With a smile and something of a half salute from the speaker, Ensign Pratt
watched the strange Officers and black clad Cavalry turn about and ride in
the direction they had originally come from. Although it was a strange
event, it was something he never mentioned to a living soul. It was
sometime later he did overhear some talk in the mess about a small army
known as the Spanish Guerrillas who were said to be led by a young
Englishman who had once been known as the Hero of Rolica.

The coincidence did not go unnoticed by the young Ensign but the young
Officer had said to keep his involvement silent; Ensign Pratt was not about
to break his word on the matter.

Thomas rode at the head of the Cavalry unit as he led them back to his
vantage point above the battle ground; he felt good that he and the others
had been able to help the young Lieutenant to take the French colours; as
he had said to the young man he truly hoped it would do some good to the
young man's future.

He had just stopped on the ridge above the battle field when he heard a
loud cursing close by; turn his head he saw Pablo holding his left thigh
with blood oozing out between his fingers. Pablo had been hit on the top of
the thigh by one of the few French soldiers who had managed to get off a
shot; the boy was not happy and proceeded to invent a few extra curse words
as another of the riders dismounted from his horse and rushed to help place
a rough bandage on the wound.

Estaban looked at his cousin with a thin smile on his face; the words that
were on the tip of his tongue were never said but the twinkle in his eyes
relayed his thoughts to those who were watching. With his cousin being
looked after Estaban just raised his eyes to the heavens and the faint
sound of a chuckle could be heard by the others. The hour was late and the
battle looked to have been a resounding success for Wellington. The French
were in full and hasty retreat and their losses were far greater than the
English and their allies. The evidence of that fact could be seen strewn
all over the battle field and the cries of the wounded could be heard by
those still high on the ridge.

Thomas called his men to retire to their camp; there was little for them to
do now and he wanted his men to get some rest before he continued with his
plans for the French. Thomas turned his men towards their camp at Batuecas
and marched them back to rest, there was still a lot of work for them once
the battle field had been cleared and there were still the main armies of
Marshal Soult, Joseph and Suchet to think about.

Later that evening, as Thomas sat with his Officers around the large
central fire; he began to talk about what they should do next. With
Wellington winning a decisive battle against Marmont there was now little
for them to do until they found out where the rest of the French armies
might be. It was concluded that Wellington would now probably march right
into Madrid as there were no armies in the immediate area which could
contest his advance.

Thomas and the others talked over their present situation and after an hour
they came to the only conclusion that made them all feel right. It was time
to once again return to Vimeiro while their back trail was well protected
by the English advance. There would be no need for the continual night
marches and they would be able to make far better time than when first
coming out into the field; it was time to go home.

The return to Vimeiro was taken a little more casually than previous
hurried retreats were and it was not until the 7th of August before Thomas
and his army saw the entrance to their special home; an hour later and they
were beginning the hard work of looking to their arms and horses. It was to
be another two days before all was returned to normal but then they would
have more than enough time for rest before going out again.

On the 10th of August, Thomas was notified by the guard detail at the
entrance that there was a small carriage approaching; it had only a driver
and one single passenger. Thomas sent word to allow the carriage through
and that one single visitor would offer them no harm; and so it proved to
be right.

When the small carriage pulled to a halt close to where Thomas was waiting
he felt the smile on his face widen as he recognised the short and portly
figure sitting at the rear; the large frame of the driver was also very
familiar. Thomas stepped forward as Mister Percy stepped from the carriage
also with a smile on his face; his rough, plain cloth suit was dust covered
and there were smudges of the same road dust on Mister Percy's face and
cotton gloves.

Thomas was the first to speak as the shorter man strode towards him.

"Mister Percy! I didn't know you were coming, would you like a cold drink
or something to eat?"

"Hello Thomas and, Yes to both questions; it's been a long journey from
Oporto and not much time to stop for the good things in life. Now how are
you my lad; enjoying your fame and fortune?"

"Come and sit here in the shade Mister Percy. Uhm...what fame and fortune?
I have no idea what you're talking about?"

"Oh well most of it can wait until later, first I have what I hope is some
interesting news for you."

Thomas stopped as he saw Fairley arrive with two glasses and a bottle of
French brandy on a small silver tray; once the two drinks were poured
Fairley left to find some food for the two friends as it was now close to
lunch time. Thomas took note that his other friends were keeping their
distance as he and Mister Percy talked; they knew Thomas would tell them
all about the meeting when the time was right but for now they respected
the privacy that the two may need.

With his drink in hand, Thomas turned back to Mister Percy.

"So what is your news Mister Percy?"

"Well Thomas, it would appear that Viscount Wellington carried out an
inquiry into certain aspects of the battle of Albuera; he reported his
findings to the powers that be and a short time ago Marshal Beresford was
asked to return to England to take up a post more suited to his abilities;
it would appear we will not see him on the battle field again."

Thomas kept his silence, but he felt a twinge of justice deep inside that
the man responsible for his men's deaths had at last been sent away and he
could now forget him and get back to doing what he did best. Thomas just
nodded to Mister Percy as he waited for the rotund man to sip his brandy
before continuing.

"Now Thomas, the next news is very secret and I must ask you to keep this
information close to your chest; no one at any time must know this or we
could both be in deep trouble."

Thomas nodded that he understood his friend perfectly. Percy continued
after another small sip of brandy.

"For the last four years we have had the assistance of Prime Minister
Perceval, unfortunately he passed away last May and we now have to deal
with the new Prime Minister Robert Jenkinson the 2nd Earl of Liverpool. As
yet we are not quite sure of his commitment to your cause but I am doing
all I can to make sure you continue to be supplied with everything you may
need. There is however one bright point; we have the full and total support
of a friend in the House of Lords and his influence is far beyond what some
may think so I feel we are still in the good graces of the Government. We
have our ways of bypassing the Prime Minister if it is needed."

"You never told me about the Government involvement Mister Percy; is that
why our supplies are arriving regularly?"

"It is a part of it Thomas but we also have other means at our disposal;
there are those of us that want you to have the chance to succeed and there
is little we won't do to make sure that happens. Now then the next thing is
Wellington has entered Madrid and is on his way towards Burgos but we have
heard rumblings that the French are massing and they are going to try to
push him back before the winter arrives so we will have to wait and see how
that part goes."

"So it appears that the tide has turned for the French Mister Percy?"

"Yes Thomas but that is not all. Napoleon foolishly made a push into
Russia; his advances have been great but he is starting to suffer some
losses and I feel his chances of taking Moscow are not great, especially if
the winter moves in and he gets caught out on the steppes; we shall have to
wait and see what happens in time but it does solve one of the problems
that could have reared its ugly head for us. If he continues into Russia
and meets the same sort of resistance he has had so far then he will not
have the reinforcements for the Peninsular war; that can only be too our
advantage. If this all happens as we are hoping it will, then you may have
a chance to really make some inroads in the not too distant future."

Thomas nodded his head to let Mister Percy know he understood what he was
hearing and then waited while the smaller man sipped his brandy before
continuing.

"Now I did hear that you had a certain influence in helping a young Ensign
take some French colours at Salamanca although it is not generally known by
those in high office, it was well done and I thank you for that. I know you
did not need to put your lives at risk for Wellington's men but it was a
good thing you did; it totally demoralised the French. Now the next thing I
would like to suggest may not be too your liking but I feel it is necessary
for your continued assaults on the French lines. We feel that it would be
too your advantage to move your base closer to the action; perhaps around
Moncorvo or Braganza. Both locations will give you less distance to travel
in your efforts against the French but still keep you safely behind the
English lines of advance. I know you may not like the idea of leaving
Vimeiro but I thought we may suggest you keep some of your men here as a
staging post for your supplies as your ships can land close by and then you
can have your supplies carried to you in the north. What do you think?"

"It would seem a better option now that the French lines are being pushed
so far back and it would make our task a little easier even though I don't
like the idea of leaving here, the people of Vimeiro have been like family
to my men and I don't want them to think we have just used them and then
forgotten how they took us into their homes and families."

"Well the final decision as always is yours but it would make things better
for you and your men on the travel front and we are sure the French will
eventually have to move northward to escape back into France; you would be
in an ideal place to cause them considerable discomfort when they start
their retreat. Now the next thing I have to ask you is rather delicate if I
may say so; it is to do with what your plans are after the war. There has
been talk about your attitude to returning to England after the war and
what you may have planned. I don't need your word right now but if you have
some feelings about your plans sometime in the future, we would really
appreciate hearing from you."

Thomas looked at Mister Percy as though he had not heard the older man. The
war ending had been the very last thing on his mind and he had not even
given the possibility any thought at all let alone his returning to England
once it was all over. Thomas sat and took a small sip of his brandy; he had
barely touched it since they had started talking; was it now time to start
to think of his future? There was still a war to fight and win before he
could give any serious though to what was to be done after it was all over.

Percy Cruikshank could see the indecision on Thomas's face and decided to
put his young charges mind at rest; there was no real immediate need for an
answer and there was still a lot of fighting yet to do.

"Thomas, there is no need for a reply right now but in time, when you have
had a chance to think things through I would like you to let me know what
you wanted; whatever you decide is right by me. It is your life and future
and only you can decide what is to be done so for now let it rest. Have you
given thought to my suggestion about moving your headquarters further
north?"

"It's not much time Mister Percy; I will have to discuss it with my
Officers and men first. It's not a decision I want to make on my own so
perhaps you will stay for dinner and leave in the morning; I will organise
a general meeting later today and we will have an answer for you before you
leave us. Will that be satisfactory?"

"Yes Thomas, that will be fine by me and thank you I would love to stay
until tomorrow; I have missed your fine table and good drink; it has been
some time since I could sit back and relax for a little while."

"Good then I will get Fairley to prepare a room for you and have your
carriage taken down by the barracks. Will your drive be alright in the
barracks for the night?"

"That man can sleep on rocks if needs be Thomas, have no fear for him. Tell
me, where is your own carriage? I don't see it in the valley."

"I keep it in Vimeiro, the people have put a barn at my disposal and the
driver stays there to watch over the horses and carriage. I very rarely use
it now."

"Well look after it, you never know when it will come in handy and after
all you are a Don, can you think of what the Prince might say if he thought
you were not living up to your title?"

Thomas chuckled at the thought that crossed his mind; he was pretty sure
the Prince would laugh out loud at any though of Thomas sticking to the
rules of etiquette as far as his title went. Thomas smiled at Mister Percy
just as Fairley came back from showing the Carriage driver where he could
stay.

"General. Is there anything else you gentlemen will need?"

"Yes, would you go and find the Colonels and ask them to join us; once
that's done can you set a room for Mister Percy; he will be staying the
night and also ask Major Jones to come and see me as soon as he can get
away from his ledgers."

Fairley saluted and left, he knew Mister Percy was a very important man and
had decided to behave himself for the moment. Fairley moved off to follow
his orders as the two men poured a little more brandy in their glasses
while they waited for the three Colonels to join them.

With the arrival of Carmelo, Estaban and Lorenco the discussion soon turned
to the news that Mister Percy had brought. Within a few minutes after being
told the news, the three Colonels began to give their ideas on what they
could do in the immediate future. Mister Percy had one last piece of news
for Thomas and his friends.

"Thomas, Prince Pimentel will arrive back in Lisbon around the 20th of
September; he has asked me to invite you to meet with him on or close to
that date so you can discuss the needs of next season's advances against
the French. It would mean that you still have plenty of time before you
have to consider moving your army north and, you never know; he may have a
few ideas for you on that front as well."

"Thank you Mister Percy, it would give us some breathing space even though
I have my doubts about returning to Lisbon just when the English may be
returning there for the winter months."

"Well they may not retire that far for winter; if they have to hold their
lines during those months I would think they may be further north and
east. Are you not wanting to greet your fellow countrymen?"

Thomas could see the small smile on Mister Percy's face as he watched
Thomas's reaction to the news.

"In all truth Mister Percy, the more I can avoid them the better I will
feel but, if there is something I have to do then I will carry out my
duties if that's what the Cortes or the Prince asks of me."

"Very courtly words young Thomas and I don't believe a bloody word of it,
however even the most onerous of tasks must be done if we want to win this
war as I'm sure you understand. Now the last thing the Prince has asked is
that you and your Officers once again carry your dress uniforms with you;
he is hoping that you will muster your full Officer corps and present them
when the time comes."

"Damn not another ball is it?"

"To be honest Thomas, I don't have a clue what he is up to so it's going to
be as much a surprise for you as it will be for me."

"Oh you will be there as well?"

"Yes, he has asked for my presence this time. Shall we meet...say on the
19th of that month; I may have a better idea of what he plans for us."

"Very good Mister Percy, the 19th it is. Now then let's go and see about
the men and what they think of the idea of moving north."

The meeting lasted until a little before the evening meal was due to be
served; the final decision was agreed on by everyone and concluded that
most of the army would move north in December and make a new camp near
Braganza as they would then have the safety of the Asturian and Cantabrian
mountains at their back with most of the northern roads that the French may
use for their eventual retreat close by.

With the final decisions made and agreed upon, everyone's mind turned; as
all youngsters know; to food. The heavy smell of cooking meat wafted in the
air of the valley as the three pits with their whole sheep turning on them
came to the ready; it was not long before hungry bellies were rumbling and
mouths watering as the scullery boys set about carving the meat from the
spits.

As he had always done, Thomas led his Officers to one of the long trestle
tables among the men. As before, Thomas just picked any one of the tables
and sat with his men, the other Officers taking places at other tables
although Thomas made sure that Mister Percy joined him.

Mister Percy was at first surprised at what Thomas and his Senior Officers
were doing as he saw them find places amongst the men for dinner; it took
Percy a little time to reconcile his thoughts with what he was seeing and
comparing it to the distant relationship that the English Officer's had
with their own men.

Percy felt a new respect for Thomas and settled back to watch and listen as
the troops; both young and old around them began to treat Thomas just like
one of them and drew Thomas into many discussion that had very little to do
with military matters.

Percy was impressed as he saw and heard Thomas talk and join in the joking
with his men; it was obvious the young Officer had not forgotten his own
humble roots as a drummer boy more than four years ago. It was a refreshing
view point for Percy and he sat quietly and watched the interplay between
the young Officer and his men. All thoughts of rank seemed to have been put
aside when it came to meal times and Percy was beginning to see why Thomas
could call on the loyalty of his men and boys so easily.

As he sat eating and watching what was going on around him, Mister Percy
began to get a new grasp on how this most unconventional army worked. The
food was not only good but could be called excellent and there was plenty
of it. Mister Percy let his mind wander back to what the English troops
were given and had little trouble in recognising the difference between the
mostly rotting canned beef and hard tack biscuits that the English troops
got and the marvellously fine spread and good Spanish wine that this army
of misfits had; even their soup was fresh and well made whereas the English
were wont to serve something akin to soup that could also have been used
for washing plates and dishes.

Another thing that attracted Percy's attention was the mixture of the
different Corps; it appeared that when it came to meal time there was
little difference between a onetime naval gunner and a small street urchin
from somewhere in Portugal, they all sat together and chatted like old and
close friends; it was at this point that Mister Percy realised that every
conversation was held in the Spanish language with only the occasional word
or two of Portuguese used.

It was fortunate for Percy that he had a good grasp on both languages as he
never heard a single word of English spoken during the whole meal or, when
he thought about it; had he heard English used during the normal time of
day except when he was speaking with Thomas earlier.

For Mister Percy it was a revelation and he could only sit back and enjoy
the atmosphere that pervaded the large mess and those around him. Mister
Percy was brought out of his reverie by the sound of a young voice speaking
to him from his left; Thomas sat on his right. Once Mister Percy turned to
look at the owner of the young voice he saw it was a young lad, his accent
was almost pure Billingsgate and he had a cheeky grin on his young face;
although he did speak English to Mister Percy.

"Wotcha Guvna, you one o them toffs wot helps our boss then?"

Mister Percy smiled at the cheeky grinning boy and smiled as he replied.

"Yes young man, one of them."

"Right Guvna, then you betta know we don' take kindly to no ossifa wot does
im wrong; yous unnerstand right?"

"Officer."

"Wot?"

"It's pronounced Officer, not ossifa."

"You takin the micky Guvna? Just you mind wot I says; anyone does wrong
with the boss and you got all of us to watch your back for. Don't like our
boss bein taken for no fool like."

"Don't worry young man I'm the last one you have to worry about doing that
to him."

"Well you mind my words Guvna, you do right by him and we be alright with
you; if not!"

Mister Percy quite understood the unsaid threat and could only smile at the
boy who was no longer smiling; his own memories of saying something similar
to a rough and dangerous boatswain when he first took George in was very
much the same. The smile on Percy's face almost slipped as he thought back
all those long years ago to his strange meeting in that far off Pacific
hell hole. Percy shook his head to rid himself of the long ago memory and
turned back to the young boy beside him.

"Tell you what young man, you watch over him and keep him safe and I will
have no reason to come looking for you in the dark of night and spoil your
dreams with my knife...agreed?"

Percy watched the startled look on the boy's face as the youngster tried to
think of an answer; suddenly the boy's face broke into an even wider grin
as he held out his rather greasy right hand after placing the sheep's
knuckle on his tin plate.

"Right you are Guvna, you got yourself a deal. Course Guvna you wouldn't
get within feet of me afore I heard you but that's never no mind, you do
good by the boss and I will watch his back."

Percy took the greasy hand without blinking and shook; the grip was far
firmer than he thought it would be for someone so young.

"Then you have a deal young man."

Percy raised his mug of Spanish wine and said to the boy.

"A toast to our boss to seal the deal."

Percy smiled as the boy grabbed for a mug half filled with wine and raised
it up before taking a rather large mouthful and swallowing with a little
exaggeration.

"The Boss."

The rest of the meal went without any further suggestions about Mister
Percy's motives and it was later in the evening when the mess started to
clear as the troops went in search of their beds or to go out on guard.

The next morning dawned overcast; it appeared the first hint of the coming
winter was making itself known. The camp was already alive by the time
Mister Percy made it to the table outside the home of his friend
Thomas. The fresh smell of the early morning cafe hung in the slightly damp
air as he took a chair on the other side of the table from Thomas.

There were no words spoken as the two old friends sat and enjoyed their
early morning cafe; everything that needed to be said had been said and it
was now time to let their brains work on any upcoming problems. For Thomas
there was the need to think about the move north and how they would keep
their home valley guarded and their sea-born supply line open.

Once the early breakfast had been eaten, Mister Percy called for his
carriage and said his farewells to Thomas and the other Officers that had
arrived to see him off. Mister Percy told Thomas he would probably not see
him before he appeared for the Prince in Lisbon. Thomas stood and watched
Mister Percy ride in his carriage out of the valley; it was time to get
back to thinking about how they were going to move their army and supplies
north.

Thomas called for Major Smithson, the young Officer and his small patrol of
map makers were just what he needed for a reconnaissance to the north to
find a suitable new campsite. Thomas along with his three most senior
friends gave Major Smithson the details he would be looking for and what he
wanted as far as safety went; he did not want his men put into danger
unnecessarily.

The days passed as Thomas and his army prepared for the move north to
Braganza, they were waiting only for the return of Major Smithson to tell
them where the new camp should be placed. As the time passed the camp began
to get a feeling of nervousness as the time to move drew closer. Wellington
had been forced to retreat back west when the three armies of Soult, Joseph
and Suchet combined and outnumbered Wellingtons force; it appeared there
would be something of a stalemate during the coming winter as the armies
kept their distance from each other.

Major Smithson arrived back at the camp on the 12th of September with his
new maps and the report Thomas had been waiting for. It was not long before
the orders were given that the army would move early so they were well
encamped at Braganza before the worst of the winter storms hit the
area. Thomas set the date of moving to the first week of November as he
hoped to be back from Lisbon by that time and it would give his men plenty
of time to ready everything for the mass move north.

On the morning of the 17th of September, Thomas assembled all his Officers
for the journey to Lisbon; that he was not looking forward to the visit
could be easily seen by the way he moved or talked but he had his duty to
perform and he would not refuse an order from Prince Pimentel or the
Cortes. When they left the valley, Thomas rode his horse down as far as
Vimeiro and then made sure his new carriage was ready to follow along until
they were within a few hours march of Lisbon before using it. If he had to
obey the rules then he would, even under protest; Thomas's Officers were
often seen with smiles on their faces when they glanced at the empty
carriage.

Late in the afternoon of the 18th the small army of Officers rode into the
city of Lisbon; the sultry look on Thomas's face as he sat angrily in the
back of the carriage said it all and the occasional ribald remark from his
friends did not help his attitude or what he thought about having to ride
in the carriage. Carmelo had ridden ahead to find lodgings for them all and
was waiting just inside the city limits as the small army of Officers
arrived. Taking note of Thomas's angry look, Carmelo smiled at him and then
just turned and led the men into the city and eventually to the closed in
yard of a large tavern; he had booked the entire tavern for their use.

With the number of black clothed and mounted Officers in a single group it
did not go unnoticed and there were many calls of pleasure and welcome from
the cities populace as they recognised them. Thomas tried to keep his head
down and his black flat crowned hat well over his features as the column
rode through the town.

When they reached the tavern, Thomas was quickly out of the carriage and
heading towards the open door; he still felt like an invalid when riding in
the carriage whereas when riding his own horse he had a certain amount of
anonymity being mixed in with the other riders all in black.

As the large group of Officers were sitting to dinner later in the evening
it did not surprise Thomas when a young soldier dressed in the uniform of
red jacket and silver and brass buttons of the English delivered a letter
to him. The message was from Mister Percy and stated he would meet with
them for breakfast the next day. Thomas dismissed the young messenger
without a reply and went back to his dinner; tomorrow would tell him all he
would need to know so for now all he wanted to do was enjoy his meal.



TBC.