Whose Business Is to Die Read Free

busy. Dunbar as brigade major was given the greater responsibilities, but often both men found themselves trailing along behind the colonel, who slept little and employed every hour of the day to the fullest extent.
    ‘We must do everything within our power, Mr Williams,’ the colonel had told him when he first arrived, ‘and not spare ourselves if a little more effort helps to ensure victory and spare the lives or preserve the health of our men.’
    It was Colborne who had led the others on the reconnaissance to find the route the main column would follow, looking for the easiest path, but also the one offering best protection from prying eyes. They had not seen a single French outpost, but then that was no surprise. The French kept their patrols and sentriesclose for fear of the vengeance of local peasants on any man caught on his own. They tended to stay especially close when the weather was so foul.
    While the stormy night had lasted the lieutenant colonel led the vanguard of the army, with his own brigade and some attached Portuguese cavalry. When dawn broke – even the grey dawn of a gloomy day like this – that responsibility passed to the commander of the Allied cavalry, although he was now under the eye of Marshal Beresford, who had come up with his staff. The marshal was in charge of this southern force detached from the main army under Lord Wellington. Regardless of rank, it was clear that Lieutenant Colonel Colborne remained eager to spur his seniors into swift action, before the French column escaped.
    ‘Captain Dunbar, ride to Marshal Beresford and inform him that the First Brigade has arrived, and that I hope to have Major Cleeves’ brigade of guns up soon.’
    The brigade major nodded and set off at a canter. Williams noticed that he had changed to another horse from the one he had ridden during the night. An ADC could not perform his duties without at least two good mounts, but he doubted that the chestnut would recover for a week or more and might well prove prone to the same failing in the future. Williams suspected that he was a poor judge – certainly an unskilled buyer – of horseflesh and had been fleeced. Up here near the frontier there was little chance of finding another mount for sale. That left one obvious source, and it was clear that the colonel’s thoughts ran along a similar line.
    ‘Mr Williams, ride to Brigadier General Long and his cavalry and tell him that the infantry are up so he may press as hard as he likes. There is no reason for a single Frenchman to escape.’
    ‘Sir.’
    ‘And, Mr Williams, I do not require you back for a little while, but take care, for it would inconvenience me if you did not return at all.’ Colborne’s eyes sparkled.
    Williams grinned, and set the grey off at a trot to preserve her strength. The British army was advancing, its spirits were high, and he was going to steal a horse from the French.

2
    ‘B ills! Bills, you old rogue!’
    Williams had hoped to pass Marshal Beresford and his staff without attracting attention. Then annoyance turned to pleasure when he recognised Hanley riding over to him and waving his hand in greeting. They were both officers in the 106th Foot, and had served together in its Grenadier Company when the army first came to Portugal.
    ‘I did not know you were here,’ Williams said after they had shaken hands.
    ‘Ever elusive,’ his friend replied, ‘flitting from shadow to shadow.’ Once an artist, then only with great reluctance a soldier, Captain Hanley was now one of the army’s exploring officers, riding behind the French lines – at times more the spy than became any gentleman. A few weeks ago Williams had sailed up from Cadiz with him, but the two had gone their separate ways after Lisbon.
    ‘Any news of Billy and the others?’
    ‘Yes,’ Hanley answered. ‘The battalion has come north and is to be attached to the Fourth Division. They may already have joined for all I know.’ Hanley had spent years in