Simon Scarrow: Fire and Sword

‘And the rest of the speech?’

‘Usual flummery, sir. And a nice bit about how you are going to crush the French armies in Portugal and Spain before you finally defeat the French Emperor himself.’

‘Ah, well, yes,’ Arthur responded awkwardly. ‘Please convey my humble appreciation for the honour the chamberlain does me.Tell him that I give my word that the French aggressors will rue the day that they ever dared to wage war on the people of Portugal.’

Beresford translated, speaking loud enough for his words to be clearly audible to the element of the crowd closest to the stage. As he finished the crowd erupted in a great cheer and Arthur turned towards them and raised his hat to acknowledge their acclaim. When he had finished, he crammed his bicorn back on his head, this time front to back to indicate that he was on active service. He turned to Beresford.

‘Better cut this as short as we can. There are matters to discuss, not to mention the usual formalities.’ Before Arthur could assume command of the army he would have to present his authorisation to the current commander, General Cradock. It would be an altogether more formal affair than the occasion when Burrard had superseded Arthur on the battlefield of Vimeiro. It suddenly struck him that the worm had finally turned.This was the first time he had enjoyed the fruits of seniority.

‘Yes, of course.’ Beresford nodded. ‘I will take you to the army’s headquarters at once, sir.’

Arthur expressed his thanks, waved and bowed his head to the crowd once more, and then left the stage. With his escort in attendance, he followed Beresford through the crowd out of the square and along a street into the heart of Lisbon. As they walked, Arthur recalled his first impressions of the city from the previous year. He was surprised again by the squalor of many of its thoroughfares, where human urine and ordure mixed with that of dogs and other animals, since the inhabitants still slung the contents of their slop buckets into the streets from overlooking windows. As they progressed Arthur could not resist glancing up warily from time to time.

General Cradock’s headquarters were situated in a large mansion overlooking the harbour. The position was elevated enough to ensure that a cooling breeze flowed through the house most of the year, and even though it was still only April the breeze was welcome, especially as it helped to dissipate the less pleasant odours of the city.

General Cradock and his staff were waiting in a large reception room overlooking the garden courtyard. After a formal announcement in front of these witnesses, Cradock surrendered his command. As soon as the brief ceremony was over Cradock relaxed and led Arthur down to the garden, where a small banquet had been prepared for the gathering of officers. As the others ate amid a hubbub of conversation, Arthur led Cradock to one side so that they might talk in confidence.

‘What is the latest intelligence on the enemy?’

Cradock raised his eyebrows briefly as he composed his response. ‘You have picked a hard time to take charge,Wellesley. Marshal Victor is at Mérida, not far from the Portuguese border. He defeated a Spanish army in March so we can’t expect much help on that front for a while. Meanwhile, Marshal Soult still occupies Oporto and is awaiting reinforcements before renewing his attempt to conquer the rest of Portugal. It is most likely that Ney will march to join him the moment the rebels in Galicia have been subdued.’

‘That may take rather longer than Ney might think,’ Arthur responded thoughtfully, recalling the latest intelligence he had read on board the frigate. ‘It seems that the Spanish who have banded together to fight the French are proliferating right across the country. Which makes my task easier. The more enemy troops they can tie down, the better our chances of picking off the French armies one at a time.’

Cradock looked surprised. ‘Good God, you can’t be serious. They outnumber you at least ten to one.’

Arthur smiled. ‘Which is precisely why I must face them one at a time. Our soldiers are more than a match for the enemy. I proved that at Vimeiro. We can, and will, prevail.’

‘I hope so,’ Cradock said wearily.‘This war has gone on long enough. Perhaps it is time to tackle the bull by the horns.’ He scrutinised Arthur for a moment and then added,‘And perhaps it is time for a new kind of general. I wish you good fortune, sir.’

Having despatched a small column to watch for any advance by Marshal Victor, Arthur left ten thousand men to defend Lisbon and set off to join the main body of his army.At the start of May he reached his forces camped in and around the town of Coimbra, five days’ march from Oporto. A guard of honour greeted the new commander and his staff when they arrived, and after a brief inspection of the well-turned-out troops Arthur summoned all the senior officers to the army headquarters, a religious school on the outskirts of the town. The surrounding hills were covered in the greens of spring, and dotted with bright flowers and blossom on the trees. Despite a cooling breeze the air was hot, and inside the school’s lecture theatre the British and Portuguese officers sat in sweltering temperatures, talking quietly as they waited for their new commander to arrive.

Outside the hall, Arthur paused to compose himself.The formalities of assuming command were now over. In a moment he would be addressing his officers and informing them of his plans for the immediate future. More immediate than many of them suspected,Arthur mused with a faint smile. It was vital that he struck the right note with his subordinates. After the fiasco at Cintra and the stalemate between the allied and French armies that had dragged on over the intervening months, he needed to inspire them with a new sense of purpose. All his plans for the future depended upon a high state of morale, an effective organisation of the army and confident leadership. He drew a deep breath, and entered the lecture theatre.

At once the officers quickly rose to their feet and stood stiffly to attention as Arthur crossed the stage and moved behind the lectern. He drew a small slip of paper from his jacket and set it down in front of him.

He looked up and round the theatre at the faces of senior officers: generals and colonels, mostly in red tunics, with a handful of blue-coated artillery men and engineers, and a few brown Portuguese uniforms, clustered about Beresford who would translate for his subordinates. There were many familiar faces here, men he had served alongside during his previous ill-fated campaign in the Peninsula. Men who had respected him and shared his frustration at the failure to capitalise on the success of Vimeiro.

‘Be seated, gentlemen.’ Arthur waited until they were settled and there was silence. ‘The time has come to take the war to the enemy. For too long the French army has enjoyed a reputation for invincibility. The nations of Europe have come to believe in this, to the detriment of their ambition to frustrate Bonaparte. It is time for us to explode the myth of French superiority at arms. Therefore, it is my intention to have our army ready to attack Oporto in no more than ten days’ time.’

The audience stirred and there was some excited muttering which Arthur indulged for a moment before continuing.

‘From intelligence provided by a French deserter, I understand that Marshal Soult’s army matches our own in size, almost man for man. It is my firm conviction that the coming battle will prove to everyone’s satisfaction that we have the better men. Everyone’s satisfaction save Bonaparte’s, of course.’

The officers chuckled politely, yet their eyes glinted with eager anticipation, Arthur noted.

‘Before we advance to meet the enemy, there is much to be done. Ammunition and equipment to be issued, artillery and supply trains to be assembled and loaded and final letters sent home. But there is more. From the moment I was appointed to this command I have been considering ways to improve the effectiveness of the army, and there are to be significant changes in the way we operate, gentlemen. One thing I have learned from the French is that there are advantages to operating in bigger formations than a brigade.Therefore, I am reorganising our brigades into autonomous divisions, each of which will contain five brigades. And, in order to distribute the best qualities across each division, a battalion of our Portuguese allies will be allocated to every British brigade. There will be no stronger or weaker elements in our battle line, gentlemen. Furthermore, having witnessed the effectiveness of riflemen at Vimeiro, I have decided that each brigade will have its own company of riflemen to stiffen the skirmish line.’