‘I have made my decision,’ Arthur replied firmly. ‘The only Spanish division that we can rely on is that of Morillo. The rest will be sent back across the border. If the Spanish government refuses to see to the sustenance of their own soldiers then I am damned if I will do their job for them.’
‘But, sir, this will reduce the army by twenty thousand men.’
‘That is so,’ Arthur conceded. ‘But I must have men I can rely on. Men who will do as they are ordered. Otherwise we provide a rod for our own backs, Somerset. If you had only borne witness to the scenes in Ascain you would have no doubt that we cannot afford to have such men march with us. They must be sent home. At once.’
Somerset puffed out his cheeks. ‘As you wish, my lord.’
Left alone in the mayor’s office, Arthur turned to stare out of the window. Outside, the sky was covered with dark grey clouds and an icy sleet was falling on the port. At a stroke he had reduced his numerical advantage over Marshal Soult to parity, and there would be a hard fight before the French were compelled to surrender.
Chapter 46
Villefranque, 10 December 1813
The right flank of the allied army had crossed to the east bank of the river Nive at Ustaritz with little trouble, brushing aside a small force of infantry. After the exchange of a few shots the enemy had hurriedly retreated north towards the main body of Soult’s army in camp close to Bayonne. By nightfall five divisions had crossed the river using a hastily repaired bridge and advanced four miles downriver towards the enemy. After a detailed inspection of the French defences to the south and west of Bayonne in the last days of November, Arthur had quickly realised that a frontal assault on the town would be too costly. Instead he had decided to shift his main strength across the Nive and attempt to trap Soult against the sea. There was a risk that the enemy might attack the allies as they crossed the river, so Arthur had tasked his remaining three divisions with making a feint along the west bank to distract Soult.
Arthur had given command of the right flank to General Hill and had joined Hill at dusk to survey the enemy positions in front of Bayonne. It had rained hard during the early days of December and the ground was waterlogged, quickly turning to mud as the allied columns trudged through the glutinous slop that covered the surfaces of the roads and tracks crossing the countryside between the sea and the Nive.
General Hill fastened the clasp at the top of his coat as a fresh shower spattered down around them. ‘This is foul ground to manoeuvre an army over.’
‘True,’ Arthur conceded. ‘But it applies to both sides. Soult and his men are as mired in this as we are. There will be precious little chance to spring any surprises on each other. If we can push him back and contain him in Bayonne, then the army can go into winter quarters while the French are besieged. Even if we don’t starve them out, they’ll be in poor shape once spring arrives.’
‘I trust you are right,’ Hill said gently and then turned to one of his aides.‘Pass the word to the leading formations. We’ll halt here and camp for the night. Have strong outposts sent forward to keep an eye on the enemy.’ He turned back to Arthur. ‘If you’ll excuse me, sir, I must make arrangements to establish my headquarters.’
‘Of course,’ Arthur nodded.
The two men touched the brims of their hats and then Hill and his staff wheeled away and made for a cluster of farm buildings a short distance away. Arthur sat for a while, watching as Hill’s columns began to spread out across the countryside. Half a mile in front of them stood the rearguard of the French army, formed up and ready to ward off any attacks that their enemy might make before night closed in. A cough to his side distracted Arthur’s attention.
‘What is it, Somerset?’
‘Might I ask what your plans are for tonight, sir? Are we to stay with Hill, or return to General Hope’s side of the river?’
Arthur thought for a moment. General Hope had only recently arrived from England and Arthur had yet to form an impression of his abilities as a field commander. As long as Hope carried out his orders and did not pursue his feint too far, and then withdrew and dug in, he and his men should not come to any grief on the other bank of the Nive. In any case, the latest reports from Arthur’s cavalry patrols indicated that the bulk of Soult’s forces were east of the river, facing Hill.
‘We shall stay here tonight. I wish to observe Hill’s attack towards Bayonne in the morning.’ Arthur turned towards Somerset and in the failing light he saw that his aide was shivering. ‘If you feel the need for some shelter, I suggest that you find us some accommodation for the night at Hill’s headquarters.’
‘Yes, sir. I’ll make arrangements directly.’ Somerset turned his horse away and spurred it after Hill and his staff. Arthur turned back towards the north and watched the enemy long enough to see them begin to light their camp fires. The French rearguard fell back over the brow of a low hill and left a thin screen of sentries to keep an eye on their enemy. There would be no fighting for what little was left of the day, and on into the night. The men on both sides were tired after months of campaigning, and the uncomfortable conditions of the winter months quenched any ardour for battle.
Satisfied that his army was secure for the night, Arthur tugged his reins and trotted his horse towards the farmhouse. All around him in the thin light of dusk many of the men of his army searched for firewood while their comrades set about finding shelter, or erecting tents where the ground was dry enough to hold a tent peg in position. The rain was falling steadily now, short steel-grey rods plunging down from the dark sagging bellies of the gloomy clouds overhead. Already the wagons and artillery teams of the army were struggling to a halt in the thick mud, despite all the whip-cracking and curses of the drivers.
Once he reached the farm buildings, Arthur dismounted outside the house and handed his reins to a groom with instructions to feed the horse and find it a dry barn for the night. Then Arthur climbed the short flight of steps to the door and entered. Inside he was greeted by a comforting wave of warmth and light and saw a small crowd of officers clustered round a large fireplace in which the farmer had lit a cheery blaze. As Arthur came in, he was offering his guests the chance to buy wine and food at premium prices.
Having taken off his coat and hat, and scraped his boots, Arthur joined the others for a dinner of stew and then retired to the farmer’s best bedroom for the night, leaving Somerset with orders that he should be woken if there was any important news, and in any case an hour before dawn. As he settled beneath his warm coverings he let his mind dwell on the comforting prospect that the defeat of Soult and the fall of Bayonne would mark an end to the long years of campaigning that had begun in Portugal and Spain before finally extending into the enemy’s own lands.
‘Sir.’ A voice broke into his slumber and Arthur grumbled and turned away, until a hand took his shoulder and shook it gently. ‘Sir, it’s Somerset. You asked me to wake you.’
Arthur blinked his eyes open and then rolled on to an elbow, facing his aide. ‘What is it? What has happened?’
‘Our outposts report that the French have gone, sir.’
‘Gone?’
‘Their sentries have pulled back, and when some of our lads followed them up they saw that there was no one left around the camp fires. Nor any sign of wagons or cannon.’
Arthur swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his boots, giving his orders as he struggled to pull them on.‘Tell Hill to send some cavalry patrols out to find the enemy. Soult may have fallen back to Bayonne, or he’s trying to get round our flank and cut us off from the bridges over the Nive.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Is there anything else?’