02 - Keane's Challenge Read Online Free Page B

stand and keep to it, then we must leave. From the south of Spain this time. That is to be our route of escape. From here, by way of Cadiz. We shall embark in boats for the fleet. Just as we did at Corunna.’
    He gazed at the map again. ‘And the Portuguese will away to the Brazils. Those are the orders. The Cabinet believes that we cannot hold. What say you, Grant?’
    ‘I am with you, Your Grace. I believe we can do it.’
    ‘Yes, I too. I’m damned if they will make of me another Sir John Moore, God rest his soul. We merely need to make sure of certain things and then we can beat them. We must train up the Portuguese. I will not fight alongside the Spanish. Not any more, not after Talavera. The men are of good quality, sure enough, but their generals are impossible. General Cuesta in particular. Second, we must hold on to the key forts of Elvas, here –’ again he pointed to the map – ‘and Almeida, here. And finally we must make for ourselves a fortified camp. The whole of this benighted country, the entire Portuguese frontier, must become a fortress from which we can then take the initiative – to sally forth and beat the French. When the time comes. The autumn, Grant. That will do.’
    Grant nodded. ‘Colonel Fletcher and the engineers have the project of the defences advancing by the day, Your Grace. The lines are rising, from the Tagus to the sea.’
    ‘And all that is secret, is it not? Nothing is known to the French?’
    ‘Nor even to our own government in London, Your Grace. Just as you instructed.’
    ‘Pray God then that the press in London do not get hold of it.They are Bonaparte’s chief source and my hidden enemy. Those gentlemen do me more harm than ten thousand of Bonaparte’s sons.’
    He muttered something that Grant could not make out and stared at the map for a few moments, before going on. ‘You said that Keane was on his way?’
    ‘He’s only lately returned from the field, sir. Brought with him a prisoner and dispatches.’
    ‘A prisoner?’
    ‘Courier, sir. From Marshal Massena.’
    An orderly officer entered the room. ‘Captain Keane is waiting outside, Your Grace.’
    ‘A timely arrival. Well, show him in then, Ayles, show him in.’
    Grant signalled to the young ADC, who opened the door to admit Keane.
    Wellington’s face brightened. ‘Captain Keane, I hear that you have news for us.’
    Keane entered and, advancing towards the commander-in-chief, nodded his head in salute. ‘Yes, Your Grace. Marshal Massena has crossed the border, at Ciudad Rodrigo.
    Wellington smiled. ‘You know that for certain?’
    ‘I have it from a courier whose word I do not doubt and from the dispatches he carried… His word was better.’
    Wellington smiled. ‘At Ciudad, damn me, as I had thought he must. With how strong a force?’
    Keane hesitated for a moment, knowing the gravity of the information he was about to give the duke and how vital it was that it should be accurate. ‘Over three hundred thousand men of all arms. He received one hundred thousand fresh troops, sir, before the advance.’
    Wellington looked at Grant. ‘There, Grant, I told you. Come down from Austria.’
    He turned to another red-coated officer, who up till now had stood, almost unnoticed, a little way off from the duke and Grant, in conversation with a fourth, similarly invisible officer.
    ‘Murray, remind me again who holds Ciudad for us?’
    Colonel George Murray, the duke’s quartermaster general, and de facto chief of staff, did not need to consult the notebook he carried inside his coat, which contained information on the locations of every brigade, battalion and regiment in the Anglo-Allied army. The answer was ingrained on his brain.
    ‘General Herrasti, Your Grace, with five thousand Spaniards.’
    Wellington nodded. ‘Herrasti. He’s a good man, one of their better officers. Brave as you’d like. But he’s old, Grant. He won’t surrender, though. He’ll go down fighting.’ He shook his head.