CHAPTER VA Roadside AdventureA Spanish By-Road—Negotiations—A Rupture—A Village Inn—Family History—Antonio the Brave—A Near Thing—The Other Cheek—Explanations—Recruits—QuitsFor a few miles Jack followed the highroad, meeting no one but an old wizened woman staggering along under a basket-load of onions. Then, thinking it well, as he approached the district in which there was a possibility of encountering the enemy's vedettes, to avoid the main thoroughfare, he struck off to the right along what was little better than a cart track, discovering from his map that this would lead him to his destination by way of Pedroso, Cantalapiedra, and Carpio, villages which were scarcely likely to be selected as billeting-places by any considerable force. It was a dreary ride. The road was heavy with the recent rains. It passed through a country consisting partly of bare heath, partly of grain-fields, now black and desolate. He had started from Salamanca shortly after eleven o'clock, and, owing to interruptions and the state of the roads, it was nearly three in the afternoon before he arrived at Cantalapiedra, little more than half-way to Medina. By that time he was hungry, and his steed was both hungry and tired. Dismounting before a posada at the entrance to the town, he sent the mule to be fed and rubbed down, and went into the house to seek refreshment himself.There was no other guest in the place, and the landlord, slow and stolid like a genuine Spaniard, showed neither pleasure nor displeasure at the appearance of a traveller. In reply to Jack's request for food, he brought, after some delay, a basin of very greasy soup of a reddish tinge, due to the saffron with which it had been liberally sprinkled, and a dirty carafe of violet-coloured wine, which Jack found, when he poured it out, almost thick enough to cut with a knife. The bread, however, was eatable, if a trifle salt, and Jack munched away with an appetite that evoked a gleam of interest in the landlord's solemn eyes. He began to ask questions, and indeed to show himself inquisitive, remarking on the strange fact of a young man travelling alone through disturbed country at such a time. Jack good-humouredly parried enquiries that seemed too direct, merely explaining that he had been on a visit to Salamanca, and was riding across country because, having heard rumours that the French were in possession of Valladolid, he had no wish to fall into their hands. The landlord dryly told him that travelling anywhere in Spain was rather dangerous for a man with good clothes on his back and money in his pocket, for if he escaped the French he might fall in with bandits, and there was little to choose between them when plunder was in question. In answer to this Jack opened his coat and showed the man the butt of a big Spanish pistol."Even a peaceful merchant," he said with a laugh, "may prove an awkward customer to tackle."The landlord shrugged."One against a troop of French cavalry, or a gang of bandits, would fare rather badly," he said. "I suppose you will want a bed to-night, Señor?""Not I. I'm going to push on to Medina.""The saints help you to find your way in the dark, then!""Oh! I shall find it. The road is direct, you know, and my mule will not wander."He set off after an hour's rest and rode on in increasing darkness. What the landlord had said about brigands gave him little concern. For one thing, the mule trod almost silently on the sodden road, and he had removed the bell from its neck; for another, he had avoided the highway, and did not suppose that much booty was ever to be obtained on the by-roads; and lastly, he trusted to his wits, his mule, and his pistol. As he rode on, the air grew colder and the sky darker; there was no moon, and a thickening haze lay over the fields to right and left of the road. It was impossible to proceed at more than a walking pace, except at risk of breaking the mule's knees in a rut or ditch. To divert his thoughts from the cold and the unpleasantness of his journey, he ran over in his mind the events of the last few days. He dwelt particularly on the strange message he had received from Don Fernan Alvarez. "Palafox the man, Palafox the name!"—what could it mean? How did it concern his old playmate Juanita, whom he remembered, a little black-eyed child, clambering on his father's knee, and listening with her finger in her mouth to the stories told her by Mr. Lumsden, so merry and frank compared with her stiff, stately, solemn father. Palafox!—he was a young general, with a brilliant reputation; Jack had heard Colonel Beckwith give high praise to his strenuous defence of Saragossa against Verdier; but what likelihood was there that the chances of the campaign would give Jack an opportunity of meeting him! Suppose he did meet him, what—"Buenas noches, caballero!" said a thick guttural voice at his mule's head, breaking into his meditation, and giving him a momentary shock."Buenas noches, hombre!" he replied.The mule had stopped short. Jack saw dimly, right in front of him, a thick-set figure clad in a heavy cloak, his head covered with a pointed large-brimmed hat, reminding the rider of pictures he had seen of Italian brigands."O Señor caballero," said the man, "will you have the charity to tell a poor wayfarer the time?"Jack was on the point of pulling out his big hunting-watch, but it struck him suddenly that it was advisable to be on his guard until he was sure of his man."Somewhere about seven o'clock, I fancy," he said courteously. "You are right in my way, my friend.""Sí, caballero, but it is my way as well as yours.""It is wide enough for both of us," rejoined Jack with a smile; "and as I have some miles to ride, I shall be obliged to you if you'll stand away and let me get on."The man did not budge, but brought his left hand from beneath his cloak and seized the off rein."Come, my friend, don't delay me. 'Tis a cold night, and the sooner I reach my journey's end the better I shall be pleased."Jack spoke quietly and politely as before, but he was watching the fellow with the wariness of a hawk."'Tis cold for me also, caballero; a fire and warm drink await me yonder. I am going to fight the accursed French, and it strikes me a mule like yours will serve me well. I will trouble you, therefore, to dismount, caballero. I perceive you are a tradesman from the town, and you will admit the fighter is more useful to Spain than the shopkeeper. If you will do me the honour to descend, I will mount in your place.""Not so fast, my man," said Jack. "I don't want to hurt you, but if you continue to stand there you may come to grief when I whip up my mule."Realizing from Jack's firm tone that his object was not to be gained without a struggle, the man suddenly threw off the fold of the cloak enveloping his right arm, and with a guttural oath lifted a huge mallet he carried in his hand, springing slightly aside to give his arm free play. The movement was fatal to him. With a sharp dig in the groin Jack swung the mule round in the same direction, and launched him full at his assailant. Before the ponderous mallet had time to complete its swing, the mule had struck the man square in the chest, and as he reeled and fell under the blow Jack brought down his switch smartly across his brow."That's well saved, anyhow," said Jack grimly to himself as he cantered on, and smiled as he heard the man's curses pursuing him. The mule seemed to share in his rider's feelings, for as he trotted steadily on he lifted his head high in the air, curled up his lip, and showed his long yellow teeth, as though laughing at the man's ignominious overthrow. Jack let him have his way, and the animal kept up the same pace unfalteringly, with never a slip or stumble, until he reached the squalid streets of Medina del Campo. The curfew had just ceased ringing, and the great market-square was quite deserted; but Jack knocked at a house in which he saw a light, enquired the way to the Posada de Oriente, and in a few minutes was standing within the doorway of that hostelry. To judge by the various voices issuing from its interior, it was entertaining a numerous company.He presented to the landlord the letter he had brought from the man's former master, Don Pedro, and was led with some hesitation into the inn, while his mule was handed over to an ostler. The inn consisted of one large apartment with a fireplace at each end, a timber roof blackened and varnished by smoke, stalls at each side for horses and mules, and for travellers a few small lateral chambers each containing a bed made of planks laid across trestles, and covered with sheets of coarse sacking. "Rough lying," thought Jack, as he looked in at the open door of one of these. The floor was of brick, strewn with rushes. A large fire burnt in one of the grates, strings of onions hung from nails on the walls, and the place was pervaded by an odour of scalded oil and grilled tomatos. Jack gave a comprehensive greeting to the company as he entered. A deep silence had fallen upon the room, and he was conscious of the curious scrutiny of several pairs of eyes; but knowing that the Spaniard is always reserved with a stranger until assured that he is not, let us say, a pedlar, or a rope-dancer, or a dealer in hair-oil, he paid the company for the moment no further attention, but sat down on a back seat pointed out by the patron, and ordered food. The landlord regretted that at short notice he could supply him with nothing but a simple gaspacho. Jack laughed inwardly at the thought of how his friend Pomeroy would turn up his fastidious nose at such fare, but assured his host that in his present state of hunger he could eat anything, and the gaspacho was accordingly prepared. Some water was poured into a soup-tureen, to this was added a little vinegar, a few pods of garlic, some onions cut into four, a slice or two of cucumber, a little spice, a pinch of salt, and a few slices of bread; with this the detestable mixture was complete. As Jack began his meagre meal the landlord opened the hidalgo's note, and Jack threw a glance round the company.Nearest the fire sat a lean, cadaverous old gentleman closely wrapped in a chestnut-coloured cloak, and sipping at a glass of dry Malaga. Next him reclined the village priest, a rotund figure clad in a black cassock, with cloak of the same colour; he nursed on his knee an immense hat, at least three feet long, with a turned-in brim, which when upon his head must have formed a sort of horizontal roof. Then came a couple of arrieros, or carriers, in rough fustian, with big leather gaiters and broad sashes of red silk; and a loutish Maragato with shaven head, clad in a long tight jacket secured at the waist by a broad girdle, loose trousers terminating at the knees, and long boots and gaiters. A few young villagers completed the circle. By this time the landlord had spread out his old master's note, and was scrutinizing it with a puzzled expression, his head screwed aside and his lips pursed up. After a few moments he appeared to come to the conclusion that he would never decipher the crabbed handwriting unaided, and handed it to the priest, a broad grease mark showing where his thumb had pressed it."Here, Señor cura," he said, "be so good as to read it to me; Don Pedro's hand is growing paralysed, surely."The priest took it, giving Jack a humorous smile."Don Pedro merely introduces the caballero as a friend of his," he said, "and asks you, for his sake and the sake of Spain, to serve him in every possible way.""To be sure," returned the landlord; "I have done it without asking. I have given the caballero a gaspacho, and if he will wait till Antonio arrives he shall have a puchero in addition, and a grilled tomato.""Thanks, landlord! I shall do very well," said Jack. "But I fear I am a kill-joy, Señores. Pray don't let me interrupt your conversation.""The caballero, being a friend of Don Pedro, may be trusted," said the lean gentleman by the fire, taking a sip. "He is welcome, particularly if he joins us in giving God-speed to Antonio as he goes on his way to join the brave guerrilleros.""I shall be happy," said Jack. "Antonio, I presume, is a soldier of this neighbourhood?""Nay, Señor, all our soldiers are already with General Castaños or the Marquis of La Romana or brave San Juan, doing deeds of valour against the accursed French, every man of them worth three of the enemy. Were I not old and worn, I myself would have led them, and drawn the sword of my ancestors in defence of my country. I am a hidalgo of noble line, Señor, tracing my descent back to a paladin who slew ten Englishmen with his own sword, when, in the days of Great Philip, we landed in England and held London to ransom." (Jack opened his eyes at this new light on English history!) "His blood still flows in my withered veins, and my neighbours here know well that only my great age keeps me from driving the French back across the mountains at the head of my troop."Most of the company applauded this patriotic speech, but Jack observed a whimsical look on the priest's face."I rejoice to know," continued the hidalgo, "that the old valour is still alive in the breasts of my countrymen; they are flocking in their thousands to join the bands of guerrilleros who dog the French at every step, and our friend Antonio, whom we expect to-night, and who leaves to-morrow for Saragossa, is one in whom the Spanish valour most brightly shines.""Antonio is a journeyman cooper, Señor," said the priest confidentially, "a dare-devil by report, a contrabandista too at times, and a great favourite in these parts. He is expected from Cantalapiedra to-night.""And here he is," cried one of the younger men, who had gone to the door. "Late, but welcome. Viva Antonio!"All the company but Jack rose to their feet to greet the hero. He came hastily into the room, flung the door to behind him, bolted it, and heaved a sigh. Jack saw at a glance that he was no other than the man who had sought to borrow his mule, and had found the apparently inoffensive rider tougher than he expected."Señores, Señores," cried the man, "only by a miracle and by my own courage have I escaped this night! Blessed be the saints that I have a stout heart and a strong arm, or I should have been but a dead man to-night!"He spread himself with an air of bravado upon a low bench, and as he removed his hat, disclosed a deep-red wale across his brow. His friends gathered about him in consternation, and the old hidalgo rose painfully from his chair, and, tottering across the room, handed a bumper of Malaga to the panting new-comer, who quaffed it gratefully."Yes, Señores," he continued, "but for the merciful protection of Santiago and Santa Maria, and the fact that I know no fear, I should have been lost to Spain, a cold corpse even now. Four miles back, as I trudged wearily along the miry road, thinking of the kind friends and the warm food awaiting me here—""Manuel," cried the landlord to a strapping youth who stood with sleeves tucked up near the fireplace, "grill a tomato for our brave Antonio.""As I trudged along," Antonio resumed, "all at once I heard a great splashing and clanking behind me, and before I could stand aside, three horsemen were upon me. They reined up when they saw me, and one of them called me dog, and asked the way to Valladolid. I knew by his tongue that he was one of the thrice-cursed French, and, commending myself to Santiago in a breath, I raised my mallet and struck him upon the head, and he fell. His comrades drew their swords and made at me over their horses' necks. I defended myself as best I could with my good mallet, but it was an unequal fight, Señores, and I was at my wits' end, when I bethought me that all the French are craven curs, and I shouted aloud, as though summoning a hidden band to the rescue. The Frenchmen started back, looked fearfully around, and then, unmindful of their dead comrade on the ground, set spurs to their horses and galloped away, one of them, as he passed, striking me—with the flat of his sword, praised be Santiago!—across the brow, and—""What was he like, hombre?" asked Jack quietly, bending forward on his chair and looking the man full in the face.Antonio's jaw dropped. He gave a scared look at the speaker, and spilt the remainder of his wine upon his boots."The brave fellow is overcome," said the hidalgo. "Fill his glass, Manuel."Antonio gulped down a second glass, and looked with apprehension at Jack, who was now sitting back again in his chair, keeping his eyes fixed on the abashed Spaniard."A lucky escape, Antonio," said the cura with a twinkling eye. "In the morning, no doubt, some passing arriero will see the dead Frenchman on the road, and bring him here for dog's burial.""No doubt, no doubt, Padre," said Antonio hurriedly. "But I am faint, Señores, and as my nose tells me the tomato is now well grilled, I would fain stay the pangs of hunger."As he devoted himself to the succulent fruit, the hidalgo entered upon a long oration on the iniquities of the French and the heroism of the Spaniards, with particular reference to the guerrilla band in the Virgen mountains, whom Antonio was on his way to join. He concluded by calling upon the company to drink the health of the brave Antonio, and confusion to the French. When the ringing vivas had ceased, Jack rose from his chair. Approaching the hero, who looked far from comfortable, he held out his right hand, and, laying his left on Antonio's shoulder, said:"I am glad that, as a chance traveller, I am here in time to add my good wishes to so staunch a patriot. With a spirit like yours, we shall soon succeed in driving the enemy headlong through the passes of the Pyrenees. I myself hope to do something in my small way for Spain, but nothing I can do will match the valiant deeds of the brave guerrilleros, who face the rigours of winter cold on the barren mountains, and leave all the comforts of home in their noble enthusiasm. I call upon the sons of Spain here present to drink once more a health to Antonio the guerrillero, and confusion to the French! Viva Antonio! Viva la España!"He grasped the hand of the astonished Antonio, and shook it heartily, amid the applause of the company. Antonio's look of amazement gave way gradually to one of smug content, and when, after another flowery speech from the hidalgo, the guests rose to take leave, the cooper had quite recovered his wonted air of assurance.After the departure of his guests, the landlord was proceeding to bolt the door for the night, when Jack stopped him."Don't fasten up yet, landlord," he said. "I am going farther presently.""To-night, Señor?""Yes; the moon is rising, and I shall ride as far as Olmedo.""But, Señor, you may be set upon by French horsemen, like Antonio here.""I don't think so," replied Jack with a smile. "Remember, Don Pedro sent me here to claim your assistance. He assured me you are a good patriot, and I don't suppose you love the French any better than the Señor hidalgo, or than Antonio, eh?""The French, Señor! I hate them. Every good Spaniard hates them. We are all caballeros, Señor, and we're not going to have any masters over us but our own hidalgos and the king—our own king.""Have you seen anything of the French yourself?""The saints forbid! They spare neither man nor beast. If they came this way I'd have never a pig in my stye nor a copa of wine in my cellar. Antonio has seen some of them to-night, and my son Manuel told me that a squadron of dragoons passed through Olmedo and went south yesterday, and all last week parties of French horse were scouring the district north of Olmedo, playing the very devil with the people.""They came from Valladolid, I suppose?""No doubt, Señor; Valladolid has been occupied by them for at least a fortnight past. We're hoping every day that the Marquis of La Romana or General Palafox will swoop down on them and slit their weasands. Or maybe the English general Sir Moore, now at Salamanca, will come and trounce them.""You know the English are at Salamanca, then? Do the French know it?""Not from us, Señor. Not a man of us will give them any information.""Well, landlord, I'm an Englishman—"The man threw up his hands in amazement, and Antonio gasped. Jack watched the effect of his announcement; he had come rapidly to the conclusion that as Antonio was clearly regarded by his friends as a staunch patriot, there would be no danger in disclosing his own nationality."And I've come this way to find out all I can about the French. I want two active young fellows to help me, and I've been looking at these two fine lads—sons of yours, I take it?""Yes, Señor, they are my sons. Manuel is nineteen, and his brother Juan a year younger, and 'tis ten years yesterday since their poor mother went to heaven."The two young men, with square-set faces and ragged shocks of black hair, stood listening with interest. Jack had watched them narrowly during the evening. They had something less than the usual stolidity of expression, looked fairly intelligent, and appeared likely to serve him well as special messengers."They would have to be prepared for hard work," he said, "at any hour of the day or night. They would be well paid, of course—""Señor," interrupted the landlord, "a good patriot doesn't require pay for working against the French."Jack thought he had heard a different account about some of his host's countrymen, but he went on:"Well then, you will not object to your sons entering my service as messengers between me and my general?""But, Señor, I shall then be single-handed. Who will there be then to attend to my guests—to mix the puchero, and stir the gaspacho, and rub down the mules? The lads could not leave their poor old father alone.""Caramba!" struck in Antonio, who was now devoting himself to a fried onion, "what is that? Here am I leaving my wife and three children, to fight the French.""You've left them before," said the landlord dryly."And there's Don Pedro's letter, you know," suggested Jack.The landlord glanced at the letter, which lay on the table, and shrugged his shoulders."Well," he said, "I would do much for Don Pedro. He was a good master to me; he gave me the money to buy this inn; and since he asks me to serve you and my country at the same time, I can't refuse, Señor—if the lads are willing to go."They at once professed their readiness to serve the Señor in any way, and assured him that they were well acquainted with the country for miles around."That's settled, then," said Jack. "Now, Manuel, you won't mind being employed at once? Have you any mules on the premises?""Two, Señor.""Just the number required. You will saddle up and ride off at once to Salamanca. I will give you a note to take to Sir John Moore, the English general there. If you can't find him, ask for General Paget. You can say Paget?"After two or three attempts, Manuel succeeded in pronouncing a passable imitation of the sound."When you have delivered the note, you will return to Carpio, and wait there for further orders. Both in going and coming you will take care to attract as little attention as possible, and of course you will not say a word to anyone, not even to your dearest friend, about your business. You understand?""Yes, Señor. And I have a friend near Carpio, a farmer, who lives about a league out of the town, so that I can stay with him if need be.""Very well. Go and get your mule saddled, and return here for the note."Jack wrote a few lines to Sir John, giving him the news of the passing squadron of French horse he had just learnt from the landlord, and ten minutes later Manuel left the inn with the note and a little money to serve for his immediate needs."Now, Juan," said Jack, when the elder brother had gone, "go to bed and get what sleep you can till three o'clock. At that hour I shall want you to start with me for Olmedo. I'm pretty tired, so I shall turn in myself, landlord, for a brief rest, and I shall take care that your assistance is brought to the notice of my general and also of your own juntas. Good-night!"At three o'clock, beneath a pale half-moon, Jack stood at the door of the inn, waiting as Juan brought up his mule. He was about to mount, when he was surprised to see Antonio issue from the door and approach him."I'm a rough common man, Señor," he said; "you're a caballero. My big tongue will not say what I have in my heart, but I know what I owe you for your kindness to-night. Yes, Señor, it was like a true caballero not to remember what had happened on the road; and I say, Señor, that if ever there comes a chance to do you a good turn, por Dios! Antonio will not forget.""Thanks, Antonio!" replied Jack, holding out his hand. "We'll cry quits and part friends.""Vaya usted con Dios!" returned the man; and then Jack, followed by Juan, cantered up the quiet street.CHAPTER VIMonsieur TaberneWestphalian Light Horse—Mine Host—Two Menus—Feeding a Commissary—Practice in French—Another Bottle—A Sum in Arithmetic—Inferences—A Cold ProspectDaylight was just breaking as the riders came to the dreary outskirts of Olmedo, passing by one or two desolate-looking vineyards, untidy brick-fields, gloomy convents, and neglected kitchen-gardens, the walled town itself rising before them on an eminence in the midst of a wide sandy plain.Jack had already learnt from Juan on the way that, nearly a mile from the town, a small clump of pine-trees grew, the only trees to be seen on all the barren heath. This, Jack thought, would be a convenient spot at which to leave the youth with the mules while he himself went into the town and reconnoitred. Accordingly, he sent Juan into the wood with the animals and sufficient food to last them the day, telling him to wrap his cloak well about him to keep off the cold, and on no account to allow himself to be seen from the road. Then he proceeded alone into the town, the narrow dirty streets of which he found in a great bustle. There appeared to be a horse at the door of every one of the six hundred houses of which the place consisted, and at the side of every horse there was a French trooper, who was either brushing his mount, or fastening its saddle-straps, or feeding it, or watching his comrades engaged in one or other of those operations. In short, three squadrons of French dragoons, which had been quartered on the town, were saddling up in preparation for marching, and the streets resounded with the clank of metal, the pawing of horses' hoofs, and the cries of the soldiers.Jack made his way to the first inn, where he found the landlord endeavouring to reconcile his Castilian dignity with the obsequiousness demanded by the troopers he was serving. Ordering some chocolate, Jack sat down quietly on a bench, prepared to pick up any scraps of information he could gather from the half-dozen troopers who were loudly conversing over their drink. But a few moments later a sergeant entered, in a rage at finding the men away from their horses. They left in a body, and Jack seized the occasion to make a few discreet enquiries of the aggrieved and perspiring innkeeper. The troopers, he learnt, were the Westphalian light horse, belonging to General Maupetit's brigade, which formed the cavalry division of the fourth army corps under Marshal Lefebvre, Duke of Dantzig. They had arrived in the town on the previous afternoon, and the landlord, like all the inhabitants, was anxious to see the last of them; for the town had been visited by numerous smaller parties of horse during the previous week, and the French always took what they wanted, and were not very scrupulous about paying for it.While Jack was condoling with the landlord, he heard the bugle ring out the "boot and saddle". A few minutes later the whole force moved out along the main road to the south, leading to Villacastin and Madrid. Jack stood just within the door, watching them defile past, and he could not but admire the excellent condition of the horses and the soldierly smartness of the men."I wonder where they are bound for?" he said to himself. He knew, from a careful examination he had already made of his map, that if the cavalry kept to the main road it would bring them, within about thirty miles, in contact with Hope's outposts, with the result that their general, Lefebvre, would not remain much longer in ignorance of the proximity of the British forces."I must see what they are after," thought Jack. Hastening to the plantation outside the town, where he had left Juan and the mules, he mounted and rode alone after the dragoons, being careful to maintain a discreet distance between himself and their rear. After riding for some three miles, he observed that they were leaving the main road and bearing to the left. Taking out his map, he found that they were evidently making for Segovia by the shortest cut, and the obvious inference was that they were as yet quite unsuspicious of the proximity of the British army, and had no intention of marching towards the Portuguese frontier. Riding another mile, to make sure that this supposition was correct, Jack then returned to the plantation, scribbled a note to Moore giving this important news, and ordered Juan to set off with it, going round Medina to Carpio, where he would meet his brother, whom he was to instruct to carry the message to Salamanca.Having thus despatched his second messenger, Jack made his way back to Olmedo, with the intention of obtaining a more substantial meal than he had yet had time for. He sought, this time, the principal inn of the place, and found that with the departure of the dragoons the inhabitants of the town, previously invisible, had now formed little knots at the street corners, and were condoling with one another on the indignities they had suffered at the hands of the enemy. The landlord was at first too much occupied with the gossips at the door of his posada to attend to a stranger, but Jack at last boldly took him by the arm and declared that he must have food of some sort."Food! All very well for a stranger to ask for food," he replied bitterly, "but these cursed Frenchmen have stripped us bare, and are verily capable of eating our children.""Come, landlord," said Jack, "I heard an old cock crowing lustily as I came up the street. At least you have an egg or two. I don't love the French any more than you; and I'll pay, which is more than they do, by all accounts.""Well, Señor, perhaps I can find you an egg, but you must wait till I can send for it and borrow a frying-pan, for a Frenchman knocked a hole in mine last night."Jack sat down on a bench within the bar-room, and listened to the conversation, or rather the declamation, of the men at the door. While he sat there waiting with scant patience, for he was very hungry, the sound of horses' hoofs was heard approaching, mingled with the clank of steel. The knot at the door melted away as by magic, and a few moments later a small party of horsemen clattered into the courtyard, and loud voices were heard calling to the inn servants. In a minute or two a portly French officer clanked into the room, now empty save for Jack. He was clad in a uniform of some brilliance, with a heavy shako and an embroidered white cloak, and the stone floor resounded to the tread of his heavy spurred riding-boots. Giving a casual glance at Jack, who was staying his hunger with a crust of dry bread until the egg should appear, the officer strode up to the low counter, smote it heavily with his riding-whip, and bellowed for the landlord, in execrable Spanish, freely interlarded with French expletives."Ohé, landlord!" he shouted. "Palsambleu! Where has the hog hidden himself? Ohé! Come out of your pig-stye, canaille that you are, and bring me some food."He continued shouting and belabouring the counter, setting the crockery rattling on the big dresser behind."Nice manners!" said Jack to himself, closely watching the new-comer. "I wonder who he is!"At this moment the landlord entered with a fried egg, which he brought to Jack without giving more than one sullen glance to the boisterous officer. This neglect wounded the gentleman's dignity; he strode across the room and, lifting his whip, spluttered:"Insolent dog! Don't you hear? I order you to bring me food, and, palsambleu! you had better hurry. What do you mean by keeping an officer of the emperor waiting while you serve a beggarly tradesman?""In a moment, Señor," said the landlord, setting the dish before Jack."Would the noble marquis like my egg?" said Jack meekly in bad French."Egg!" The officer snorted his contempt for such frugal fare. "Look you, landlord, I want soup to begin with, and then a mayonnaise—sweet olive-oil, mind you—and a capon well basted to follow, and—""Señor, Señor," interrupted the landlord, "I've not any such things on the premises. Your dragoons have eaten me up already. I can give you an omelet—""An omelet! Morbleu, landlord! If you don't hurry with something more substantial than an omelet I'll slice your fat cheeks into collops."[image]A Question of SupplyHe glared at the Spaniard and laid his hand on his sword; and the landlord, giving up all attempt to preserve his dignity further, scuttled through the door leading to his kitchen."Holà!" cried the officer, calling him back; "before you go give me a stoup of wine; none of your tarred vinegar of Toro, pardi, but good wine of Valdepenas, something with a tang. Ventrebleu! it's a poor thing if an officer of the emperor, who has to feed an army, can't get good food for himself."("Ah!" thought Jack, "we have a commissary here. He ought to be worth something.")The trembling landlord set a goat-skin and a cup before the blusterous commissary, and hurried off to ransack his larder for something wherewith to appease his Gargantuan appetite.After two or three draughts of wine the big man appeared to be somewhat mollified. He threw more than one glance at Jack, as he strode up and down the room, objurgating the landlord's sluggishness. To Jack's amusement and surprise, the Spaniard returned in a very few minutes, bearing a steaming tureen of soup."Would the Señor like his meal served in a private room?" he asked. "There is only my own sitting-room, with no fire at present, but if his excellency pleases a fire shall be lit, and—""Tenez, tenez!" said the officer; "let me fill my stomach, in the public room here by the fire. I may want the private room by and by," he added pompously; "but meanwhile I have no objection to your guest being present."He glanced at Jack, who at once said, in his politest tones:"I shall be happy to retire if I am in the noble marquis's way. Personal convenience must, of course, give way to the public service, and anyone can see that the noble marquis is a very high functionary."The deferential tone and the barefaced flattery conciliated the big man. Puffing himself out he said:"Not marquis yet, young man, not yet, though it may come—yes, it may come in time. Lefebvre is Duke of Dantzig: he rose from the ranks, and there's no reason in the world why I, Gustave Taberne, shouldn't be a marquis before long. Personal business, you say? Well, my business is wholly personal at present, since it consists in lining my not inconsiderable person, hein! But I don't regard your company as an intrusion, monsieur; far from it; I welcome you heartily."Jack bowed his acknowledgments. Meanwhile the officer had begun to gulp his soup with no little noise, gobbling like a turkey-cock, as Jack described him afterwards. As his meal progressed he unbent still further."You are almost the first of your cursed countrymen I've met who can speak tolerable French," he said. "Where did you learn it, young man?""I picked up a little in Barcelona, your excellency," replied Jack, "but not till now have I had the opportunity of improving myself by conversation with an officer used to high society.""Ah! you know a galant homme when you see him. You have some sense, young man. Yes, I'm commissary-general to the Duke of Dantzig's forces, and, parbleu! in the emperor's service I spare no one, neither myself nor others. Ohé, landlord, bring the next course."The landlord brought in a number of dishes."Señor likes the puchero?" he said."Puchero, you call it? Well, if this is puchero, I do like it. Now, par le sambleu, you wanted to put me off with an omelet! He! he!"He lay back in his chair and roared. Jack himself was not a little amused, for he saw on the table a quarter of veal, a neck of mutton, a chicken, the end of a sausage calledchorizo, slices of bacon and ham, a jug of sauce made of tomatos and saffron and strong spices, a dish of cabbage soaking in oil, and a platter filled with a vegetable rather like haricot beans, calledgarbanzo. All these the landlord mixed in one big vessel so as to make a mayonnaise, which Jack hoped did not taste as strong as it smelt. The commissary fell to with avidity, but he was evidently fond of hearing his own voice, and his tongue being loosened by the unexpected good cheer, and by Jack's respectful admiration, he condescended to converse between the mouthfuls."Pity your countrymen are not all as civil and sensible as yourself," he said. "If they'd only put a good face on it, and pay willing obedience to King Joseph—though, to tell the truth, he's only a proxy for the emperor,—they'd live a quieter life and make the duties of the commissary less of a torture. I tell you, young man—moi qui vous parle—there isn't a more harassed man in the army than the commissary-general. Hang me if he is not every way as important as the commander-in-chief!"Jack looked at him sympathetically."A general gets all the credit of a victory, but, parbleu! 'tis the commissary that deserves it. Who won the battle of Austerlitz three years ago? Folks say it was the emperor, but between you and me, mon ami, it was I myself, Gustave Taberne. Soult, Masséna, Lannes, the emperor himself—all very well, but could the men fight if they weren't well fed?—tell me that. And I feed the army. Skill, that is good; courage, that is better; devotion, that is excellent; but a good meal has won more victories than the cleverest tactics.""The world knows nothing of its greatest men," said Jack.The commissary gleamed approval, but at this point the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a corporal."Well, Antoine," said the officer, "where is the alcalde?""He cannot be found, mon colonel," replied the man."Cannot be found! Cannot! Who dares use such words to the emperor's commissary-general? The alcalde must be found, or, parbleu! I'll burn every house and pig-stye in the place. Let him be here in half an hour—not a moment sooner, for I must finish my dejeuner; not a moment later, for he will fare ill if he keeps me waiting. Away with you, Antoine."The corporal vanished."Ohé, landlord!" shouted the commissary. "Another bottle of wine. No, don't take out the stopper. Set it on the table there in front of me."The commissary gloated at the rotund wine-skin, but made no sign of opening it. Catching an enquiring glance from Jack, he said loftily:"I drink no more till my work is done, young man. If I drank more now, I should get drunk; and if I got drunk the emperor would call me a pig, and I should deserve it. Duty first, young man, always remember that.""It astonishes me," said Jack, "—forgive my ignorance, Colonel,—how you officers can make the calculations necessary for feeding an immense army. In our little villages, for instance, if we keep the festival of a saint or a guild, when there are only some hundreds of mouths to feed, we either run short or have so much left that bushels of good stuff have to be thrown to the pigs."Jack spoke from recollections of the autumn bean-feast in his little Surrey village at home. The commissary rose to the bait, and spoke, always with a thirsty eye fixed on the wine-skin."Oh! as to that," he said, "we do everything by system. Nothing is easier when you have a system. We allow a pound of biscuit a day to each man, and half a pound of meat, and as much wine as is good for him and can be got. For myself, as you see, I can drink a gallon without staggering, and hold a fresh bottle always at arm's-length without touching it.""Matchless strength of will!" exclaimed Jack. "But even so, the responsibility of obtaining just the right quantity for so many thousands of men would make a weaker man quaver. The biscuit, for instance—what a huge quantity you must consume!""Huge indeed!" said the commissary. "Why, in Valladolid, where I have come from, we use nine tons a day." (Jack made a rapid mental calculation: one pound of biscuit to each man; nine tons a day. "So there are about twenty thousand men in Valladolid!" he concluded.) "And in the present temper of your confounded countrymen," continued the commissary, "such a man as I is not to be envied. I have had great difficulty in procuring supplies in some places. Like your landlord here, they offer an egg, and we have to curse them before they bring out the chicken. But we stand no nonsense, I can tell you. Your alcaldes have bad memories, but 'tis amazing how refreshing is a yard or two of hempen rope or the touch of a cold pistol-barrel. We had trouble in Valladolid, and 'tis rumoured we are to have trouble in Segovia; but let 'em beware, let 'em beware.""Ah! I'm afraid our poor people have small chance against the hosts of your emperor—the finest soldier the world has seen since Alexander the Great.""You say true, monsieur; you are a sensible fellow—for a Spaniard. The Little Corporal is indeed a new Alexander, destined to conquer the whole world, and, parbleu! those upstart meddling shopkeepers of English into the bargain. Why, the emperor is at this moment marching south, and my bag here is stuffed with bulletins of his victories."He pulled out a handful of papers, and spread them on the table. At this moment the corporal re-entered, followed by the trembling alcalde of the village, whose bemired dress showed that he had been hiding in no very sanitary spot."Ohé, Don Long-chops," said the commissary, "you thought to escape me, did you? Now you and I will have a reckoning."As the alcalde was brought round the table until he faced the commissary, Jack rose."I will bid you good-day, monsieur," he said politely. "I have a long way to go, and be sure that in whatever village I pass through I shall warn them that so capable an officer is not to be trifled with.""That is sound sense, pardi," said the commissary. "You will do well to prepare them for my coming, and, look you, if we meet again, you and I will drink as much Valdepenas as our skins will hold—provided my duty is done. Au revoir!"Jack bowed and took his leave. The information he had obtained from the self-sufficient commissary was clearly of the highest importance. There were twenty thousand men in Valladolid: they were about to march for Segovia; and the emperor himself was coming southward at the head of an army. It was evident that the French were as yet in ignorance of the proximity of Moore's army. They were probably intending a blow at Madrid; and Jack saw in a flash that this might have a direct bearing on the movements contemplated by Sir John."Why shouldn't we march eastward and cut their communications?" he thought.The question was, how was this information to be conveyed to head-quarters? At the earliest Juan could not be back before dark, even if he met his brother the instant he arrived at Carpio."There's nothing for it but to go myself," said Jack to himself, "and that's a pity. I should have liked to get a little more out of my budding marquis when he is in one of his expansive moods. Well, I've a cold ride before me."
CHAPTER V
A Roadside Adventure
A Spanish By-Road—Negotiations—A Rupture—A Village Inn—Family History—Antonio the Brave—A Near Thing—The Other Cheek—Explanations—Recruits—Quits
For a few miles Jack followed the highroad, meeting no one but an old wizened woman staggering along under a basket-load of onions. Then, thinking it well, as he approached the district in which there was a possibility of encountering the enemy's vedettes, to avoid the main thoroughfare, he struck off to the right along what was little better than a cart track, discovering from his map that this would lead him to his destination by way of Pedroso, Cantalapiedra, and Carpio, villages which were scarcely likely to be selected as billeting-places by any considerable force. It was a dreary ride. The road was heavy with the recent rains. It passed through a country consisting partly of bare heath, partly of grain-fields, now black and desolate. He had started from Salamanca shortly after eleven o'clock, and, owing to interruptions and the state of the roads, it was nearly three in the afternoon before he arrived at Cantalapiedra, little more than half-way to Medina. By that time he was hungry, and his steed was both hungry and tired. Dismounting before a posada at the entrance to the town, he sent the mule to be fed and rubbed down, and went into the house to seek refreshment himself.
There was no other guest in the place, and the landlord, slow and stolid like a genuine Spaniard, showed neither pleasure nor displeasure at the appearance of a traveller. In reply to Jack's request for food, he brought, after some delay, a basin of very greasy soup of a reddish tinge, due to the saffron with which it had been liberally sprinkled, and a dirty carafe of violet-coloured wine, which Jack found, when he poured it out, almost thick enough to cut with a knife. The bread, however, was eatable, if a trifle salt, and Jack munched away with an appetite that evoked a gleam of interest in the landlord's solemn eyes. He began to ask questions, and indeed to show himself inquisitive, remarking on the strange fact of a young man travelling alone through disturbed country at such a time. Jack good-humouredly parried enquiries that seemed too direct, merely explaining that he had been on a visit to Salamanca, and was riding across country because, having heard rumours that the French were in possession of Valladolid, he had no wish to fall into their hands. The landlord dryly told him that travelling anywhere in Spain was rather dangerous for a man with good clothes on his back and money in his pocket, for if he escaped the French he might fall in with bandits, and there was little to choose between them when plunder was in question. In answer to this Jack opened his coat and showed the man the butt of a big Spanish pistol.
"Even a peaceful merchant," he said with a laugh, "may prove an awkward customer to tackle."
The landlord shrugged.
"One against a troop of French cavalry, or a gang of bandits, would fare rather badly," he said. "I suppose you will want a bed to-night, Señor?"
"Not I. I'm going to push on to Medina."
"The saints help you to find your way in the dark, then!"
"Oh! I shall find it. The road is direct, you know, and my mule will not wander."
He set off after an hour's rest and rode on in increasing darkness. What the landlord had said about brigands gave him little concern. For one thing, the mule trod almost silently on the sodden road, and he had removed the bell from its neck; for another, he had avoided the highway, and did not suppose that much booty was ever to be obtained on the by-roads; and lastly, he trusted to his wits, his mule, and his pistol. As he rode on, the air grew colder and the sky darker; there was no moon, and a thickening haze lay over the fields to right and left of the road. It was impossible to proceed at more than a walking pace, except at risk of breaking the mule's knees in a rut or ditch. To divert his thoughts from the cold and the unpleasantness of his journey, he ran over in his mind the events of the last few days. He dwelt particularly on the strange message he had received from Don Fernan Alvarez. "Palafox the man, Palafox the name!"—what could it mean? How did it concern his old playmate Juanita, whom he remembered, a little black-eyed child, clambering on his father's knee, and listening with her finger in her mouth to the stories told her by Mr. Lumsden, so merry and frank compared with her stiff, stately, solemn father. Palafox!—he was a young general, with a brilliant reputation; Jack had heard Colonel Beckwith give high praise to his strenuous defence of Saragossa against Verdier; but what likelihood was there that the chances of the campaign would give Jack an opportunity of meeting him! Suppose he did meet him, what—
"Buenas noches, caballero!" said a thick guttural voice at his mule's head, breaking into his meditation, and giving him a momentary shock.
"Buenas noches, hombre!" he replied.
The mule had stopped short. Jack saw dimly, right in front of him, a thick-set figure clad in a heavy cloak, his head covered with a pointed large-brimmed hat, reminding the rider of pictures he had seen of Italian brigands.
"O Señor caballero," said the man, "will you have the charity to tell a poor wayfarer the time?"
Jack was on the point of pulling out his big hunting-watch, but it struck him suddenly that it was advisable to be on his guard until he was sure of his man.
"Somewhere about seven o'clock, I fancy," he said courteously. "You are right in my way, my friend."
"Sí, caballero, but it is my way as well as yours."
"It is wide enough for both of us," rejoined Jack with a smile; "and as I have some miles to ride, I shall be obliged to you if you'll stand away and let me get on."
The man did not budge, but brought his left hand from beneath his cloak and seized the off rein.
"Come, my friend, don't delay me. 'Tis a cold night, and the sooner I reach my journey's end the better I shall be pleased."
Jack spoke quietly and politely as before, but he was watching the fellow with the wariness of a hawk.
"'Tis cold for me also, caballero; a fire and warm drink await me yonder. I am going to fight the accursed French, and it strikes me a mule like yours will serve me well. I will trouble you, therefore, to dismount, caballero. I perceive you are a tradesman from the town, and you will admit the fighter is more useful to Spain than the shopkeeper. If you will do me the honour to descend, I will mount in your place."
"Not so fast, my man," said Jack. "I don't want to hurt you, but if you continue to stand there you may come to grief when I whip up my mule."
Realizing from Jack's firm tone that his object was not to be gained without a struggle, the man suddenly threw off the fold of the cloak enveloping his right arm, and with a guttural oath lifted a huge mallet he carried in his hand, springing slightly aside to give his arm free play. The movement was fatal to him. With a sharp dig in the groin Jack swung the mule round in the same direction, and launched him full at his assailant. Before the ponderous mallet had time to complete its swing, the mule had struck the man square in the chest, and as he reeled and fell under the blow Jack brought down his switch smartly across his brow.
"That's well saved, anyhow," said Jack grimly to himself as he cantered on, and smiled as he heard the man's curses pursuing him. The mule seemed to share in his rider's feelings, for as he trotted steadily on he lifted his head high in the air, curled up his lip, and showed his long yellow teeth, as though laughing at the man's ignominious overthrow. Jack let him have his way, and the animal kept up the same pace unfalteringly, with never a slip or stumble, until he reached the squalid streets of Medina del Campo. The curfew had just ceased ringing, and the great market-square was quite deserted; but Jack knocked at a house in which he saw a light, enquired the way to the Posada de Oriente, and in a few minutes was standing within the doorway of that hostelry. To judge by the various voices issuing from its interior, it was entertaining a numerous company.
He presented to the landlord the letter he had brought from the man's former master, Don Pedro, and was led with some hesitation into the inn, while his mule was handed over to an ostler. The inn consisted of one large apartment with a fireplace at each end, a timber roof blackened and varnished by smoke, stalls at each side for horses and mules, and for travellers a few small lateral chambers each containing a bed made of planks laid across trestles, and covered with sheets of coarse sacking. "Rough lying," thought Jack, as he looked in at the open door of one of these. The floor was of brick, strewn with rushes. A large fire burnt in one of the grates, strings of onions hung from nails on the walls, and the place was pervaded by an odour of scalded oil and grilled tomatos. Jack gave a comprehensive greeting to the company as he entered. A deep silence had fallen upon the room, and he was conscious of the curious scrutiny of several pairs of eyes; but knowing that the Spaniard is always reserved with a stranger until assured that he is not, let us say, a pedlar, or a rope-dancer, or a dealer in hair-oil, he paid the company for the moment no further attention, but sat down on a back seat pointed out by the patron, and ordered food. The landlord regretted that at short notice he could supply him with nothing but a simple gaspacho. Jack laughed inwardly at the thought of how his friend Pomeroy would turn up his fastidious nose at such fare, but assured his host that in his present state of hunger he could eat anything, and the gaspacho was accordingly prepared. Some water was poured into a soup-tureen, to this was added a little vinegar, a few pods of garlic, some onions cut into four, a slice or two of cucumber, a little spice, a pinch of salt, and a few slices of bread; with this the detestable mixture was complete. As Jack began his meagre meal the landlord opened the hidalgo's note, and Jack threw a glance round the company.
Nearest the fire sat a lean, cadaverous old gentleman closely wrapped in a chestnut-coloured cloak, and sipping at a glass of dry Malaga. Next him reclined the village priest, a rotund figure clad in a black cassock, with cloak of the same colour; he nursed on his knee an immense hat, at least three feet long, with a turned-in brim, which when upon his head must have formed a sort of horizontal roof. Then came a couple of arrieros, or carriers, in rough fustian, with big leather gaiters and broad sashes of red silk; and a loutish Maragato with shaven head, clad in a long tight jacket secured at the waist by a broad girdle, loose trousers terminating at the knees, and long boots and gaiters. A few young villagers completed the circle. By this time the landlord had spread out his old master's note, and was scrutinizing it with a puzzled expression, his head screwed aside and his lips pursed up. After a few moments he appeared to come to the conclusion that he would never decipher the crabbed handwriting unaided, and handed it to the priest, a broad grease mark showing where his thumb had pressed it.
"Here, Señor cura," he said, "be so good as to read it to me; Don Pedro's hand is growing paralysed, surely."
The priest took it, giving Jack a humorous smile.
"Don Pedro merely introduces the caballero as a friend of his," he said, "and asks you, for his sake and the sake of Spain, to serve him in every possible way."
"To be sure," returned the landlord; "I have done it without asking. I have given the caballero a gaspacho, and if he will wait till Antonio arrives he shall have a puchero in addition, and a grilled tomato."
"Thanks, landlord! I shall do very well," said Jack. "But I fear I am a kill-joy, Señores. Pray don't let me interrupt your conversation."
"The caballero, being a friend of Don Pedro, may be trusted," said the lean gentleman by the fire, taking a sip. "He is welcome, particularly if he joins us in giving God-speed to Antonio as he goes on his way to join the brave guerrilleros."
"I shall be happy," said Jack. "Antonio, I presume, is a soldier of this neighbourhood?"
"Nay, Señor, all our soldiers are already with General Castaños or the Marquis of La Romana or brave San Juan, doing deeds of valour against the accursed French, every man of them worth three of the enemy. Were I not old and worn, I myself would have led them, and drawn the sword of my ancestors in defence of my country. I am a hidalgo of noble line, Señor, tracing my descent back to a paladin who slew ten Englishmen with his own sword, when, in the days of Great Philip, we landed in England and held London to ransom." (Jack opened his eyes at this new light on English history!) "His blood still flows in my withered veins, and my neighbours here know well that only my great age keeps me from driving the French back across the mountains at the head of my troop."
Most of the company applauded this patriotic speech, but Jack observed a whimsical look on the priest's face.
"I rejoice to know," continued the hidalgo, "that the old valour is still alive in the breasts of my countrymen; they are flocking in their thousands to join the bands of guerrilleros who dog the French at every step, and our friend Antonio, whom we expect to-night, and who leaves to-morrow for Saragossa, is one in whom the Spanish valour most brightly shines."
"Antonio is a journeyman cooper, Señor," said the priest confidentially, "a dare-devil by report, a contrabandista too at times, and a great favourite in these parts. He is expected from Cantalapiedra to-night."
"And here he is," cried one of the younger men, who had gone to the door. "Late, but welcome. Viva Antonio!"
All the company but Jack rose to their feet to greet the hero. He came hastily into the room, flung the door to behind him, bolted it, and heaved a sigh. Jack saw at a glance that he was no other than the man who had sought to borrow his mule, and had found the apparently inoffensive rider tougher than he expected.
"Señores, Señores," cried the man, "only by a miracle and by my own courage have I escaped this night! Blessed be the saints that I have a stout heart and a strong arm, or I should have been but a dead man to-night!"
He spread himself with an air of bravado upon a low bench, and as he removed his hat, disclosed a deep-red wale across his brow. His friends gathered about him in consternation, and the old hidalgo rose painfully from his chair, and, tottering across the room, handed a bumper of Malaga to the panting new-comer, who quaffed it gratefully.
"Yes, Señores," he continued, "but for the merciful protection of Santiago and Santa Maria, and the fact that I know no fear, I should have been lost to Spain, a cold corpse even now. Four miles back, as I trudged wearily along the miry road, thinking of the kind friends and the warm food awaiting me here—"
"Manuel," cried the landlord to a strapping youth who stood with sleeves tucked up near the fireplace, "grill a tomato for our brave Antonio."
"As I trudged along," Antonio resumed, "all at once I heard a great splashing and clanking behind me, and before I could stand aside, three horsemen were upon me. They reined up when they saw me, and one of them called me dog, and asked the way to Valladolid. I knew by his tongue that he was one of the thrice-cursed French, and, commending myself to Santiago in a breath, I raised my mallet and struck him upon the head, and he fell. His comrades drew their swords and made at me over their horses' necks. I defended myself as best I could with my good mallet, but it was an unequal fight, Señores, and I was at my wits' end, when I bethought me that all the French are craven curs, and I shouted aloud, as though summoning a hidden band to the rescue. The Frenchmen started back, looked fearfully around, and then, unmindful of their dead comrade on the ground, set spurs to their horses and galloped away, one of them, as he passed, striking me—with the flat of his sword, praised be Santiago!—across the brow, and—"
"What was he like, hombre?" asked Jack quietly, bending forward on his chair and looking the man full in the face.
Antonio's jaw dropped. He gave a scared look at the speaker, and spilt the remainder of his wine upon his boots.
"The brave fellow is overcome," said the hidalgo. "Fill his glass, Manuel."
Antonio gulped down a second glass, and looked with apprehension at Jack, who was now sitting back again in his chair, keeping his eyes fixed on the abashed Spaniard.
"A lucky escape, Antonio," said the cura with a twinkling eye. "In the morning, no doubt, some passing arriero will see the dead Frenchman on the road, and bring him here for dog's burial."
"No doubt, no doubt, Padre," said Antonio hurriedly. "But I am faint, Señores, and as my nose tells me the tomato is now well grilled, I would fain stay the pangs of hunger."
As he devoted himself to the succulent fruit, the hidalgo entered upon a long oration on the iniquities of the French and the heroism of the Spaniards, with particular reference to the guerrilla band in the Virgen mountains, whom Antonio was on his way to join. He concluded by calling upon the company to drink the health of the brave Antonio, and confusion to the French. When the ringing vivas had ceased, Jack rose from his chair. Approaching the hero, who looked far from comfortable, he held out his right hand, and, laying his left on Antonio's shoulder, said:
"I am glad that, as a chance traveller, I am here in time to add my good wishes to so staunch a patriot. With a spirit like yours, we shall soon succeed in driving the enemy headlong through the passes of the Pyrenees. I myself hope to do something in my small way for Spain, but nothing I can do will match the valiant deeds of the brave guerrilleros, who face the rigours of winter cold on the barren mountains, and leave all the comforts of home in their noble enthusiasm. I call upon the sons of Spain here present to drink once more a health to Antonio the guerrillero, and confusion to the French! Viva Antonio! Viva la España!"
He grasped the hand of the astonished Antonio, and shook it heartily, amid the applause of the company. Antonio's look of amazement gave way gradually to one of smug content, and when, after another flowery speech from the hidalgo, the guests rose to take leave, the cooper had quite recovered his wonted air of assurance.
After the departure of his guests, the landlord was proceeding to bolt the door for the night, when Jack stopped him.
"Don't fasten up yet, landlord," he said. "I am going farther presently."
"To-night, Señor?"
"Yes; the moon is rising, and I shall ride as far as Olmedo."
"But, Señor, you may be set upon by French horsemen, like Antonio here."
"I don't think so," replied Jack with a smile. "Remember, Don Pedro sent me here to claim your assistance. He assured me you are a good patriot, and I don't suppose you love the French any better than the Señor hidalgo, or than Antonio, eh?"
"The French, Señor! I hate them. Every good Spaniard hates them. We are all caballeros, Señor, and we're not going to have any masters over us but our own hidalgos and the king—our own king."
"Have you seen anything of the French yourself?"
"The saints forbid! They spare neither man nor beast. If they came this way I'd have never a pig in my stye nor a copa of wine in my cellar. Antonio has seen some of them to-night, and my son Manuel told me that a squadron of dragoons passed through Olmedo and went south yesterday, and all last week parties of French horse were scouring the district north of Olmedo, playing the very devil with the people."
"They came from Valladolid, I suppose?"
"No doubt, Señor; Valladolid has been occupied by them for at least a fortnight past. We're hoping every day that the Marquis of La Romana or General Palafox will swoop down on them and slit their weasands. Or maybe the English general Sir Moore, now at Salamanca, will come and trounce them."
"You know the English are at Salamanca, then? Do the French know it?"
"Not from us, Señor. Not a man of us will give them any information."
"Well, landlord, I'm an Englishman—"
The man threw up his hands in amazement, and Antonio gasped. Jack watched the effect of his announcement; he had come rapidly to the conclusion that as Antonio was clearly regarded by his friends as a staunch patriot, there would be no danger in disclosing his own nationality.
"And I've come this way to find out all I can about the French. I want two active young fellows to help me, and I've been looking at these two fine lads—sons of yours, I take it?"
"Yes, Señor, they are my sons. Manuel is nineteen, and his brother Juan a year younger, and 'tis ten years yesterday since their poor mother went to heaven."
The two young men, with square-set faces and ragged shocks of black hair, stood listening with interest. Jack had watched them narrowly during the evening. They had something less than the usual stolidity of expression, looked fairly intelligent, and appeared likely to serve him well as special messengers.
"They would have to be prepared for hard work," he said, "at any hour of the day or night. They would be well paid, of course—"
"Señor," interrupted the landlord, "a good patriot doesn't require pay for working against the French."
Jack thought he had heard a different account about some of his host's countrymen, but he went on:
"Well then, you will not object to your sons entering my service as messengers between me and my general?"
"But, Señor, I shall then be single-handed. Who will there be then to attend to my guests—to mix the puchero, and stir the gaspacho, and rub down the mules? The lads could not leave their poor old father alone."
"Caramba!" struck in Antonio, who was now devoting himself to a fried onion, "what is that? Here am I leaving my wife and three children, to fight the French."
"You've left them before," said the landlord dryly.
"And there's Don Pedro's letter, you know," suggested Jack.
The landlord glanced at the letter, which lay on the table, and shrugged his shoulders.
"Well," he said, "I would do much for Don Pedro. He was a good master to me; he gave me the money to buy this inn; and since he asks me to serve you and my country at the same time, I can't refuse, Señor—if the lads are willing to go."
They at once professed their readiness to serve the Señor in any way, and assured him that they were well acquainted with the country for miles around.
"That's settled, then," said Jack. "Now, Manuel, you won't mind being employed at once? Have you any mules on the premises?"
"Two, Señor."
"Just the number required. You will saddle up and ride off at once to Salamanca. I will give you a note to take to Sir John Moore, the English general there. If you can't find him, ask for General Paget. You can say Paget?"
After two or three attempts, Manuel succeeded in pronouncing a passable imitation of the sound.
"When you have delivered the note, you will return to Carpio, and wait there for further orders. Both in going and coming you will take care to attract as little attention as possible, and of course you will not say a word to anyone, not even to your dearest friend, about your business. You understand?"
"Yes, Señor. And I have a friend near Carpio, a farmer, who lives about a league out of the town, so that I can stay with him if need be."
"Very well. Go and get your mule saddled, and return here for the note."
Jack wrote a few lines to Sir John, giving him the news of the passing squadron of French horse he had just learnt from the landlord, and ten minutes later Manuel left the inn with the note and a little money to serve for his immediate needs.
"Now, Juan," said Jack, when the elder brother had gone, "go to bed and get what sleep you can till three o'clock. At that hour I shall want you to start with me for Olmedo. I'm pretty tired, so I shall turn in myself, landlord, for a brief rest, and I shall take care that your assistance is brought to the notice of my general and also of your own juntas. Good-night!"
At three o'clock, beneath a pale half-moon, Jack stood at the door of the inn, waiting as Juan brought up his mule. He was about to mount, when he was surprised to see Antonio issue from the door and approach him.
"I'm a rough common man, Señor," he said; "you're a caballero. My big tongue will not say what I have in my heart, but I know what I owe you for your kindness to-night. Yes, Señor, it was like a true caballero not to remember what had happened on the road; and I say, Señor, that if ever there comes a chance to do you a good turn, por Dios! Antonio will not forget."
"Thanks, Antonio!" replied Jack, holding out his hand. "We'll cry quits and part friends."
"Vaya usted con Dios!" returned the man; and then Jack, followed by Juan, cantered up the quiet street.
CHAPTER VI
Monsieur Taberne
Westphalian Light Horse—Mine Host—Two Menus—Feeding a Commissary—Practice in French—Another Bottle—A Sum in Arithmetic—Inferences—A Cold Prospect
Daylight was just breaking as the riders came to the dreary outskirts of Olmedo, passing by one or two desolate-looking vineyards, untidy brick-fields, gloomy convents, and neglected kitchen-gardens, the walled town itself rising before them on an eminence in the midst of a wide sandy plain.
Jack had already learnt from Juan on the way that, nearly a mile from the town, a small clump of pine-trees grew, the only trees to be seen on all the barren heath. This, Jack thought, would be a convenient spot at which to leave the youth with the mules while he himself went into the town and reconnoitred. Accordingly, he sent Juan into the wood with the animals and sufficient food to last them the day, telling him to wrap his cloak well about him to keep off the cold, and on no account to allow himself to be seen from the road. Then he proceeded alone into the town, the narrow dirty streets of which he found in a great bustle. There appeared to be a horse at the door of every one of the six hundred houses of which the place consisted, and at the side of every horse there was a French trooper, who was either brushing his mount, or fastening its saddle-straps, or feeding it, or watching his comrades engaged in one or other of those operations. In short, three squadrons of French dragoons, which had been quartered on the town, were saddling up in preparation for marching, and the streets resounded with the clank of metal, the pawing of horses' hoofs, and the cries of the soldiers.
Jack made his way to the first inn, where he found the landlord endeavouring to reconcile his Castilian dignity with the obsequiousness demanded by the troopers he was serving. Ordering some chocolate, Jack sat down quietly on a bench, prepared to pick up any scraps of information he could gather from the half-dozen troopers who were loudly conversing over their drink. But a few moments later a sergeant entered, in a rage at finding the men away from their horses. They left in a body, and Jack seized the occasion to make a few discreet enquiries of the aggrieved and perspiring innkeeper. The troopers, he learnt, were the Westphalian light horse, belonging to General Maupetit's brigade, which formed the cavalry division of the fourth army corps under Marshal Lefebvre, Duke of Dantzig. They had arrived in the town on the previous afternoon, and the landlord, like all the inhabitants, was anxious to see the last of them; for the town had been visited by numerous smaller parties of horse during the previous week, and the French always took what they wanted, and were not very scrupulous about paying for it.
While Jack was condoling with the landlord, he heard the bugle ring out the "boot and saddle". A few minutes later the whole force moved out along the main road to the south, leading to Villacastin and Madrid. Jack stood just within the door, watching them defile past, and he could not but admire the excellent condition of the horses and the soldierly smartness of the men.
"I wonder where they are bound for?" he said to himself. He knew, from a careful examination he had already made of his map, that if the cavalry kept to the main road it would bring them, within about thirty miles, in contact with Hope's outposts, with the result that their general, Lefebvre, would not remain much longer in ignorance of the proximity of the British forces.
"I must see what they are after," thought Jack. Hastening to the plantation outside the town, where he had left Juan and the mules, he mounted and rode alone after the dragoons, being careful to maintain a discreet distance between himself and their rear. After riding for some three miles, he observed that they were leaving the main road and bearing to the left. Taking out his map, he found that they were evidently making for Segovia by the shortest cut, and the obvious inference was that they were as yet quite unsuspicious of the proximity of the British army, and had no intention of marching towards the Portuguese frontier. Riding another mile, to make sure that this supposition was correct, Jack then returned to the plantation, scribbled a note to Moore giving this important news, and ordered Juan to set off with it, going round Medina to Carpio, where he would meet his brother, whom he was to instruct to carry the message to Salamanca.
Having thus despatched his second messenger, Jack made his way back to Olmedo, with the intention of obtaining a more substantial meal than he had yet had time for. He sought, this time, the principal inn of the place, and found that with the departure of the dragoons the inhabitants of the town, previously invisible, had now formed little knots at the street corners, and were condoling with one another on the indignities they had suffered at the hands of the enemy. The landlord was at first too much occupied with the gossips at the door of his posada to attend to a stranger, but Jack at last boldly took him by the arm and declared that he must have food of some sort.
"Food! All very well for a stranger to ask for food," he replied bitterly, "but these cursed Frenchmen have stripped us bare, and are verily capable of eating our children."
"Come, landlord," said Jack, "I heard an old cock crowing lustily as I came up the street. At least you have an egg or two. I don't love the French any more than you; and I'll pay, which is more than they do, by all accounts."
"Well, Señor, perhaps I can find you an egg, but you must wait till I can send for it and borrow a frying-pan, for a Frenchman knocked a hole in mine last night."
Jack sat down on a bench within the bar-room, and listened to the conversation, or rather the declamation, of the men at the door. While he sat there waiting with scant patience, for he was very hungry, the sound of horses' hoofs was heard approaching, mingled with the clank of steel. The knot at the door melted away as by magic, and a few moments later a small party of horsemen clattered into the courtyard, and loud voices were heard calling to the inn servants. In a minute or two a portly French officer clanked into the room, now empty save for Jack. He was clad in a uniform of some brilliance, with a heavy shako and an embroidered white cloak, and the stone floor resounded to the tread of his heavy spurred riding-boots. Giving a casual glance at Jack, who was staying his hunger with a crust of dry bread until the egg should appear, the officer strode up to the low counter, smote it heavily with his riding-whip, and bellowed for the landlord, in execrable Spanish, freely interlarded with French expletives.
"Ohé, landlord!" he shouted. "Palsambleu! Where has the hog hidden himself? Ohé! Come out of your pig-stye, canaille that you are, and bring me some food."
He continued shouting and belabouring the counter, setting the crockery rattling on the big dresser behind.
"Nice manners!" said Jack to himself, closely watching the new-comer. "I wonder who he is!"
At this moment the landlord entered with a fried egg, which he brought to Jack without giving more than one sullen glance to the boisterous officer. This neglect wounded the gentleman's dignity; he strode across the room and, lifting his whip, spluttered:
"Insolent dog! Don't you hear? I order you to bring me food, and, palsambleu! you had better hurry. What do you mean by keeping an officer of the emperor waiting while you serve a beggarly tradesman?"
"In a moment, Señor," said the landlord, setting the dish before Jack.
"Would the noble marquis like my egg?" said Jack meekly in bad French.
"Egg!" The officer snorted his contempt for such frugal fare. "Look you, landlord, I want soup to begin with, and then a mayonnaise—sweet olive-oil, mind you—and a capon well basted to follow, and—"
"Señor, Señor," interrupted the landlord, "I've not any such things on the premises. Your dragoons have eaten me up already. I can give you an omelet—"
"An omelet! Morbleu, landlord! If you don't hurry with something more substantial than an omelet I'll slice your fat cheeks into collops."
[image]A Question of Supply
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A Question of Supply
He glared at the Spaniard and laid his hand on his sword; and the landlord, giving up all attempt to preserve his dignity further, scuttled through the door leading to his kitchen.
"Holà!" cried the officer, calling him back; "before you go give me a stoup of wine; none of your tarred vinegar of Toro, pardi, but good wine of Valdepenas, something with a tang. Ventrebleu! it's a poor thing if an officer of the emperor, who has to feed an army, can't get good food for himself."
("Ah!" thought Jack, "we have a commissary here. He ought to be worth something.")
The trembling landlord set a goat-skin and a cup before the blusterous commissary, and hurried off to ransack his larder for something wherewith to appease his Gargantuan appetite.
After two or three draughts of wine the big man appeared to be somewhat mollified. He threw more than one glance at Jack, as he strode up and down the room, objurgating the landlord's sluggishness. To Jack's amusement and surprise, the Spaniard returned in a very few minutes, bearing a steaming tureen of soup.
"Would the Señor like his meal served in a private room?" he asked. "There is only my own sitting-room, with no fire at present, but if his excellency pleases a fire shall be lit, and—"
"Tenez, tenez!" said the officer; "let me fill my stomach, in the public room here by the fire. I may want the private room by and by," he added pompously; "but meanwhile I have no objection to your guest being present."
He glanced at Jack, who at once said, in his politest tones:
"I shall be happy to retire if I am in the noble marquis's way. Personal convenience must, of course, give way to the public service, and anyone can see that the noble marquis is a very high functionary."
The deferential tone and the barefaced flattery conciliated the big man. Puffing himself out he said:
"Not marquis yet, young man, not yet, though it may come—yes, it may come in time. Lefebvre is Duke of Dantzig: he rose from the ranks, and there's no reason in the world why I, Gustave Taberne, shouldn't be a marquis before long. Personal business, you say? Well, my business is wholly personal at present, since it consists in lining my not inconsiderable person, hein! But I don't regard your company as an intrusion, monsieur; far from it; I welcome you heartily."
Jack bowed his acknowledgments. Meanwhile the officer had begun to gulp his soup with no little noise, gobbling like a turkey-cock, as Jack described him afterwards. As his meal progressed he unbent still further.
"You are almost the first of your cursed countrymen I've met who can speak tolerable French," he said. "Where did you learn it, young man?"
"I picked up a little in Barcelona, your excellency," replied Jack, "but not till now have I had the opportunity of improving myself by conversation with an officer used to high society."
"Ah! you know a galant homme when you see him. You have some sense, young man. Yes, I'm commissary-general to the Duke of Dantzig's forces, and, parbleu! in the emperor's service I spare no one, neither myself nor others. Ohé, landlord, bring the next course."
The landlord brought in a number of dishes.
"Señor likes the puchero?" he said.
"Puchero, you call it? Well, if this is puchero, I do like it. Now, par le sambleu, you wanted to put me off with an omelet! He! he!"
He lay back in his chair and roared. Jack himself was not a little amused, for he saw on the table a quarter of veal, a neck of mutton, a chicken, the end of a sausage calledchorizo, slices of bacon and ham, a jug of sauce made of tomatos and saffron and strong spices, a dish of cabbage soaking in oil, and a platter filled with a vegetable rather like haricot beans, calledgarbanzo. All these the landlord mixed in one big vessel so as to make a mayonnaise, which Jack hoped did not taste as strong as it smelt. The commissary fell to with avidity, but he was evidently fond of hearing his own voice, and his tongue being loosened by the unexpected good cheer, and by Jack's respectful admiration, he condescended to converse between the mouthfuls.
"Pity your countrymen are not all as civil and sensible as yourself," he said. "If they'd only put a good face on it, and pay willing obedience to King Joseph—though, to tell the truth, he's only a proxy for the emperor,—they'd live a quieter life and make the duties of the commissary less of a torture. I tell you, young man—moi qui vous parle—there isn't a more harassed man in the army than the commissary-general. Hang me if he is not every way as important as the commander-in-chief!"
Jack looked at him sympathetically.
"A general gets all the credit of a victory, but, parbleu! 'tis the commissary that deserves it. Who won the battle of Austerlitz three years ago? Folks say it was the emperor, but between you and me, mon ami, it was I myself, Gustave Taberne. Soult, Masséna, Lannes, the emperor himself—all very well, but could the men fight if they weren't well fed?—tell me that. And I feed the army. Skill, that is good; courage, that is better; devotion, that is excellent; but a good meal has won more victories than the cleverest tactics."
"The world knows nothing of its greatest men," said Jack.
The commissary gleamed approval, but at this point the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a corporal.
"Well, Antoine," said the officer, "where is the alcalde?"
"He cannot be found, mon colonel," replied the man.
"Cannot be found! Cannot! Who dares use such words to the emperor's commissary-general? The alcalde must be found, or, parbleu! I'll burn every house and pig-stye in the place. Let him be here in half an hour—not a moment sooner, for I must finish my dejeuner; not a moment later, for he will fare ill if he keeps me waiting. Away with you, Antoine."
The corporal vanished.
"Ohé, landlord!" shouted the commissary. "Another bottle of wine. No, don't take out the stopper. Set it on the table there in front of me."
The commissary gloated at the rotund wine-skin, but made no sign of opening it. Catching an enquiring glance from Jack, he said loftily:
"I drink no more till my work is done, young man. If I drank more now, I should get drunk; and if I got drunk the emperor would call me a pig, and I should deserve it. Duty first, young man, always remember that."
"It astonishes me," said Jack, "—forgive my ignorance, Colonel,—how you officers can make the calculations necessary for feeding an immense army. In our little villages, for instance, if we keep the festival of a saint or a guild, when there are only some hundreds of mouths to feed, we either run short or have so much left that bushels of good stuff have to be thrown to the pigs."
Jack spoke from recollections of the autumn bean-feast in his little Surrey village at home. The commissary rose to the bait, and spoke, always with a thirsty eye fixed on the wine-skin.
"Oh! as to that," he said, "we do everything by system. Nothing is easier when you have a system. We allow a pound of biscuit a day to each man, and half a pound of meat, and as much wine as is good for him and can be got. For myself, as you see, I can drink a gallon without staggering, and hold a fresh bottle always at arm's-length without touching it."
"Matchless strength of will!" exclaimed Jack. "But even so, the responsibility of obtaining just the right quantity for so many thousands of men would make a weaker man quaver. The biscuit, for instance—what a huge quantity you must consume!"
"Huge indeed!" said the commissary. "Why, in Valladolid, where I have come from, we use nine tons a day." (Jack made a rapid mental calculation: one pound of biscuit to each man; nine tons a day. "So there are about twenty thousand men in Valladolid!" he concluded.) "And in the present temper of your confounded countrymen," continued the commissary, "such a man as I is not to be envied. I have had great difficulty in procuring supplies in some places. Like your landlord here, they offer an egg, and we have to curse them before they bring out the chicken. But we stand no nonsense, I can tell you. Your alcaldes have bad memories, but 'tis amazing how refreshing is a yard or two of hempen rope or the touch of a cold pistol-barrel. We had trouble in Valladolid, and 'tis rumoured we are to have trouble in Segovia; but let 'em beware, let 'em beware."
"Ah! I'm afraid our poor people have small chance against the hosts of your emperor—the finest soldier the world has seen since Alexander the Great."
"You say true, monsieur; you are a sensible fellow—for a Spaniard. The Little Corporal is indeed a new Alexander, destined to conquer the whole world, and, parbleu! those upstart meddling shopkeepers of English into the bargain. Why, the emperor is at this moment marching south, and my bag here is stuffed with bulletins of his victories."
He pulled out a handful of papers, and spread them on the table. At this moment the corporal re-entered, followed by the trembling alcalde of the village, whose bemired dress showed that he had been hiding in no very sanitary spot.
"Ohé, Don Long-chops," said the commissary, "you thought to escape me, did you? Now you and I will have a reckoning."
As the alcalde was brought round the table until he faced the commissary, Jack rose.
"I will bid you good-day, monsieur," he said politely. "I have a long way to go, and be sure that in whatever village I pass through I shall warn them that so capable an officer is not to be trifled with."
"That is sound sense, pardi," said the commissary. "You will do well to prepare them for my coming, and, look you, if we meet again, you and I will drink as much Valdepenas as our skins will hold—provided my duty is done. Au revoir!"
Jack bowed and took his leave. The information he had obtained from the self-sufficient commissary was clearly of the highest importance. There were twenty thousand men in Valladolid: they were about to march for Segovia; and the emperor himself was coming southward at the head of an army. It was evident that the French were as yet in ignorance of the proximity of Moore's army. They were probably intending a blow at Madrid; and Jack saw in a flash that this might have a direct bearing on the movements contemplated by Sir John.
"Why shouldn't we march eastward and cut their communications?" he thought.
The question was, how was this information to be conveyed to head-quarters? At the earliest Juan could not be back before dark, even if he met his brother the instant he arrived at Carpio.
"There's nothing for it but to go myself," said Jack to himself, "and that's a pity. I should have liked to get a little more out of my budding marquis when he is in one of his expansive moods. Well, I've a cold ride before me."