“If you have to ask that question, then you don’t understand what we do at all.”

  Bunce looked around for some support, but he found none, as they had all been subjected to hard singlestick contests to keep them sharp and forever improving. And they all looked upon him now with judgemental expressions, which soon pressured him into accepting the situation. He climbed down from the saddle, looking rather sheepish and humbled as he took off his sword belt and took up a singlestick.

  “I will call you to guard, and you will not begin until I say so. You will stop after any smart blow and break distance until I order you to continue. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  There was a shakiness in his voice, as he felt the pressure of the audience and the expectations placed upon him. Paget paced up closely so that they could speak quietly and privately.

  “Do not fear. For this is not punishment but training. The Major means well.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Very much so,” smiled Paget as he turned back to put some distance between them in their starting positions.

  “Do not go easy on your old friend, Mr Paget, or I shall have Birback take over your duties to ensure the Captain is tested properly.”

  “Yes, Sir!” replied Paget as eager to please as ever.

  Birback smiled at the threat, for he loved his name being used to strike fear into the hearts of men.

  “Ready?”

  The two officers saluted one another with their single sticks.

  “Guard!”

  They did as ordered.

  “Begin!”

  Paget advanced at a steady and confident pace, launching a snappy beat against Bunce’s stick, which caused it to fly out of his hands and onto the ground. Paget looked as surprised as Bunce. He had only expected it to create an opening and not be such a dramatic disarm. Laughter followed from many who were watching.

  “You score nothing without landing a blow,” insisted Craven to Paget.

  But Paget would not strike his unarmed friend, and he backed away to give him space to pick up the singlestick.

  “You are better than this, Buncy. Let’s see the battler I once knew!”

  He picked up the stick and came to guard once more and into distance. Paget attempted to batter his stick once again merely to test that he had learnt from his first mistake. Bunce avoided the beat completely with a quick disengage under the beat and snapped a quick strike towards Paget’s head. It caused him to have to use every bit of his lightning-fast reactions to pull back and defend himself. Craven smiled a little but tried to hide it. He could see the Captain had some skills and some speed, but he did not want to go easy on him. For he had spoken the truth when he insisted that each soldier’s fighting prowess was vital to the safety and success of them all.

  The clash of sticks echoed out as Paget and Bunce went back and forth. Paget was not pushing him as hard as he could, but enough to test him as was needed. Enough to show he had skill without risking embarrassment before his new comrades. Craven was happy with that. For Paget was both fair and compassionate whilst getting the job done. A blow was soon landed on Bunce, and Craven ordered them to restart, but it was clear Bunce was quickly relaxing into the situation and getting better with every exchange of blows. Paget landed another three and was getting quite cocky and playful when he launched a long range and low cut towards Bunce’s lead knee. Bunce quickly and instinctively drew his leg back, causing Paget’s stick to find nothing but air as his own wheeled about in a great big but fast parade, crashing down onto the top of Paget’s head.

  “Ooh!” cried several whilst others cheered.

  Paget staggered a little as the blow had rattled his brain, and he looked a little out of sorts for a few seconds. He reached for the top of his head to find it was cut and a lump had formed, but he soon recovered and smiled.

  “Good one!” he cried out.

  A cheer rang out as the two shook hands as friends.

  “Well, Sir, will that do?” Bunce asked.

  “It will, for now,” smiled Craven.

  “Is there anything else I should know, Sir?”

  “Have the back of every soldier who you serve with. We fight for one another. Oh, and if you come across a Major Bouchard, kill him. For there will be a great reward for you.”

  “Kill him, Sir?” Bunce was amazed at the suggestion.

  “Major Craven has put a warrant out for his death,” replied Paget.

  “Is that so?” he asked with doubt and a little concern, though he clearly did not want to rock the boat further and said nothing.

  “Welcome to the Salford Rifles,” declared Craven.

  Chapter 2

  Charlie watched Paget and Bunce riding alongside each other ahead of her. They were deep in conversation and dead to the world as they made up for lost time, seemingly picking up where they left off as the best of friends.

  “Does it bother you, that a man occupies his time?” Vicenta asked, who rode beside her.

  “If I were threatened by another man I would kill him,” she replied confidently.

  But Vicenta smirked, knowing it was only a half truth. Yes, Charlie was quite willing to kill, but she was not entirely happy with the latest man to join them.

  “Why does he bother you so?” Vicenta seemingly bypassed Charlie’s denial, and it worked as Charlie sighed and finally gave an honest answer.

  “Captain Bunce represents all that Paget was before we came to know him. Before he become one of us. He has changed much over the years.”

  “And you fear his old ways returning?”

  “I do,” groaned Charlie.

  “Was Paget a good man before you knew him?”

  “In his own way, yes,” she admitted.

  “Then there is nothing for you to worry about. You have trusted him with your life many times, and you should trust him now.”

  Charlie took a deep breath in relief, but she also looked a little sheepish as if disappointed in herself.

  “Do not feel bad for these feelings. For we in Spain are not afraid of our emotions. They run deep within our blood and speak to the honesty in our hearts,” explained Vicenta compassionately.

  Charlie relaxed as she exhaled and welcomed the thoughts.

  “Captain Bunce was appointed to be here. But you, you ride with us after all this time? Why?”

  “Look where we are and what we are doing. We march on Madrid to free my people and my country.”

  “De Rosas fights the French, too. You could have gone back to him?”

  “Yes, he does, and it is a noble effort. My countrymen fight the French far and wide in the same manner, and it weakens the enemy, but it will not defeat them. We might kill more French soldiers in the guerrilla war than Wellington ever could, but until the French armies are beaten in open battle, my country will not be free. I ride with Craven because that is where I can do the most for my country, for he is both a fighting man and an honest one.”

  Charlie laughed.

  “What is so amusing?” she demanded angrily as if Craven’s honour was being called into question.

  “He was not always the man you know today. And I only saw the tail end of what he used to be when we first met. It is fair to say he has always been a fighting man, but an honest one? Far from it.”

  “That is the man he used to be. Were you the same before wearing that uniform?”

  Charlie shook her head as she thought back to the life she used to have. The happy life of a soldier’s wife and a mother before the retreat to Corunna. It felt like a lifetime ago, and indeed she was not at all recognisable compared to who she was back then. The uniform was merely the outer skin hiding all the bitterness and anger she felt inside ever since donning it for the first time. And yet she realised she was as different again now as that time, and it made her smile a little, realising she was getting a little of her old self back.

  “Do you think it is a good thing, bringing in this stranger among us?” Charlie looked to Bunce and turned from her personal concerns to the wider issue of the Salford Rifles and what was best for them all.

  “We were all strangers here once. I have no reason to trust that man yet, but I will give him a chance to prove he is worthy of being here.”

  “You are better than this at me. Accepting change, I mean,” noted Charlie.

  “In the times we live it is the way the people of Spain must be. We make the most of the changes we see before our eyes.”

  They looked back at Quicks and Nooth deep in friendly conversation as they rode beside one another on their newly acquired French horses. Not so long ago they were the freshest faces in the Salford Rifles, and yet they had been through so much together with those who had been there from the start.

  “What do you make of him?” Craven asked Matthys as they led the column forward with only Moxy and Ellis well ahead of them as scouts.

  “The new Captain?”

  “Yes,” Craven was seething. He did not much appreciate such a senior soldier being thrust upon them without any choice in the matter.

  “I have faith in Paget’s assessment of a man, and so I think he will do just fine. But it might take him some time to settle into the way you command and the way we all conduct ourselves.”

  “Because we are not like the rest of the army?”

  “Precisely, and he would not be the first officer to butt heads with the way you command.”

  Craven smiled as that was certainly true.

  “If he can fight and be depended upon, then that will do.”

  “And Mr Paget?”

  “What of him?”

  “An old friend is now superior to him in his own regiment after all he has achieved. That young man has fought more battles than most soldiers ever would in thirty years of service.”

  “If Paget was so concerned with promotion, he would have left us a long time ago. For this is not the place for it.”

  “I don’t think that ambition left his mind, but I think he stays for other reasons.”

  Craven looked back to Charlie and knew the two were still close.

  “Yes, she can have quite the influence,” he admitted.

  “I was referring to you. Paget looks up to you more than anyone. He forsook his father to defend you, even when you were beyond defendable.”

  “And lost so much in the process. Was I really worth it?”

  “He thinks so, and so do I. You have come a long way since the gladiator’s stage and the gambling tables of England, and look at what we have achieved together. Each of us quite imperfect, and yet together we are a force far stronger than anyone would imagine.”

  “Bunce will not like the way we do things, that much is clear.”

  “Any officer stepping in among us would be the same, but give him time, he will come around.”

  “Always so full of wisdom, we should get you a commission, for you certainly deserve it.”

  “I am flattered, but I am quite fine where I am. Orders might come from officers, but never forget that it is Sergeants that keep the British army moving forward. What would I gain with a commission?”

  “More pay?”

  “I do not need more than I am provided.”

  “There is really no price which could buy you and your loyalty? Or disloyalty to others?”

  “I am here for the people, not for myself. Although I will admit it is not without a selfish part, for I get a great deal of satisfaction from what I do.”

  Craven looked back to Paget and Bunce once more to see they were still deep in conversation, laughing and chatting amongst themselves.

  “So, this warrant for a French officer’s death, is that real?” Bunce turned to an issue that had weighed on his mind since he had first heard it.

  “It is.”

  “And you will go along with it? You would go through with it?”

  “Bouchard is a truly awful man who has not conducted himself with honour. He has terrorised men and women, not just soldiers. He has tried to assassinate Major Craven more than once. He is a spy and a monster.”

  “But are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Men have done awful things since the dawn of time, but do we want to join them in their depravity merely for a sense of revenge?”

  “This is not revenge.”

  “Is it not? Authorised murder of a serving officer in the army of the enemy by any means necessary?”

  “You do not understand what Bouchard has done. The warrant is not justice for what he has done, but to stop him from doing it all again in the future.”

  Bunce groaned uncomfortably but said nothing.

  “What? What is it?”

  Bunce looked out of sorts and uncomfortable about saying anything further.

  “Out with it, we will not have secrets here,” insisted Paget.

  “You have changed, and I would not have expected this from you from all the time we spent together.”

  “Yes, I have changed. I was a naive young man in those days. I thought I knew the world and that I knew everything, but these past years have opened my eyes.”

  “And your morals, too?”

  “Real life is not so simple as we had imagined.”

  “I have to admit that I am disappointed.”

  Paget initially looked put out, but as he looked around to the friends all around him, he decided to fight back.

  “A few months of proper soldiering and you will feel different,” he retorted.

  “I have seen what real soldiering looks like. For I have served beside some of the finest officers in Wellington’s army, here in Spain against the French.”

  Paget shrugged.

  “All I can ask if that you give Major Craven a chance, because without him, I fear Wellington would never have gotten this far.”

  Neither said another word as the conversation had soured so much that a cold silence now followed. It did not go unnoticed by Charlie who had watched their renewed friendship with curiosity and a little concern. Craven noticed it, too.

  “Why is it do you think that Wellington puts that man among us? Why now after all these years without interference? Another young man with family connections that he is hoping to palm off on us like he did with Paget?” he asked Matthys.

  “Perhaps, but we are a very different outfit today than when we first came to Lord Wellington’s attentions, and Wellington sees everything.”

  “Then why? Does he mean to toughen the young man up by having him march with us? Or is he here to temper or spy upon us?”

  “I cannot pretend to understand the motivations, but a capable fighting officer is a welcome asset I should say.”

  “Is he? A capable fighter?”

  “You saw him. He is not you, nor Paget, but perfectly capable even before any training which we might bestow upon him.”

  “Do you think he would take it?”

  “He is not the enemy, and so why do you treat him so?”

  “Because I do not understand why he is here and I do not yet trust him,” replied Craven honestly.

  “Then give him a chance to gain it, and for now, trust in Paget’s judgement if nothing else.”

  Craven caught a glimpse of movement in the distance ahead and stopped to take out his spyglass.

  “What is it?”

  But he could see even with his naked eye that a small group of cavalry was moving at speed with some urgency.

  “KGL,” replied Craven, referring the dragoons of the King’s German Legion, who had earned a lofty reputation for their dependable service among Wellington’s army.

  “They move with purpose,” replied Matthys as Paget and Bunce moved up beside them to see for themselves.

  Twenty KGL dragoons were in flight and riding North, which was of concern, for the advance towards Madrid was Southeasterly. So far there had been little resistance to Wellington’s march toward Madrid, but now they were just ten miles away, and nobody knew whether the enemy would stand and fight or flee without a contest.

  “Are those men of the army’s advance guard?” Paget asked, for if they were running Northward, it was of a grave concern.

  Craven followed along the road to where they were heading to find a village occupied by British cavalry, many of which had stopped to rest and water their horses, whilst Portuguese cavalry were continuing through the town. The twenty KGL approached them at speed and only stopped to relay news for a brief moment before continuing on.

  “What is this? What is happening here, Sir?” asked Paget.

  The Portuguese cavalry squadrons went on in the direction that the KGL troopers had fled from. They were a far more formidable force, totalling three regiments of dragoons and supported by four cannons.

  “There must be trouble ahead,” insisted Bunce.

  “I don’t like this at all.” Craven continued to survey the scene, “On me!”

  He led his mounted force up to a better vantage point from where they might get a better understanding of what was unfolding before them. And soon enough they could see the French cavalry squadrons advancing North, and the Portuguese were heading right for them.

  “Sir, look!” Paget cried.

  Beyond the French squadrons many more cavalrymen were riding to join those at the front. The Portuguese cavalrymen soon noticed it as they quickly wheeled about and began to flee.

  “Cowards,” muttered Bunce.

  But the French force advancing on them was far superior and so few held it against them.

  “This is what those men of the KGL were warning them of, and still they went forward?” Paget pondered.

  “Yes, one would say that is rather brave,” replied Ferreira in support of his countrymen.

  But it was a scene of complete chaos as they were powerless to act. They watched from a distance as the marauding French cavalry overran the British cannons and captured three of the four. They continued their pursuit of the Portuguese cavalry as they fled towards the village to the North just as the twenty KGL troopers had.

  “What do we do, Sir?”

  “The enemy march on that village.” He pointed to the North where so many troops were still resting idle, “Come on!”

  He turned away and galloped on for the village, knowing he could at least get there before the enemy did. They rode on at the gallop, pushing their mounts as hard as they could, for they all knew the troops occupying the village ahead was Wellington’s advance guard and was vital to the advance on Madrid.