All in Scarlet Uniform (Napoleonic War 4) by Adrian Goldsworthy

defection to the French now seemed real. Since he had gone, Espinosa and most of the network of sources had died at the gallows or in front of firing squads.
    ‘It may be that he is dead,’ Baynes continued. ‘If not, then it would be a happy outcome if we can arrange to make that the case.’
    ‘I am no assassin,’ said Hanley, remembering the last conversation he had had with the merchant before he had left for England last year.
    ‘My dear boy, of course not, but as you told me some time ago, you are a soldier, and killing the enemy is part of the job.’
    For a moment it looked as if Murray would say something, but in the end he must have decided against it.
    ‘You will go to Ciudad Rodrigo,’ Baynes continued. ‘When you report, send first to Brigadier General Craufurd who commands our Light Brigade forming the outposts of the army. Colonel Murray and I will sometimes be visiting his staff, but even when not, he has orders to pass on all your communication to Lord Wellington’s headquarters.’
    ‘Now, I think that is all of my part in this, for the moment.’ Murray looked at Baynes, and the merchant gave a gracious wave of his arm. ‘Good. Now, I must find Colonel Fletcher and ask a few more questions. Good day to you both, and good luck to you, Hanley.’ Murray shook his hand firmly.
    Baynes watched him go. ‘Oh dear, I fear my talk of assassins offended him. It often surprises me how coy some soldiers are when it comes to talk of killing.’
    ‘Not killing, but murder.’
    ‘A distinction that often escapes me, I fear,’ said Baynes with deliberately exaggerated innocence. ‘I have little doubt that Velarde will exert the utmost efforts to kill you.’
    ‘You now sound certain that he is there.’
    ‘Do I?’ Baynes dabbed at his cheeks with his disreputable handkerchief. ‘Well, perhaps I am, or perhaps I am simply getting nervous. So much is at stake that the least thing may tip the balance.’ Hanley had rarely seen the merchant looking so committed. Or so worried. Then the moment passed, and Baynes’ red cheeks seemed to glow with happiness. ‘Oh, I do have some pleasant news, for it is more than likely that you will run across some old friends from your regiment up in that area.’
    ‘The training mission to the Spanish,’ Hanley began.
    ‘Is not far from Ciudad Rodrigo,’ said Baynes, cutting in. ‘I believe your friends Pringle and Williams are there, as well as that splendid rogue Corporal Dobson.’
    ‘It is Sergeant Dobson now.’
    ‘Of course, my mistake.’
    Hanley caught a flicker of amusement and was sure Baynes was playing a game, once again pretending ignorance. ‘Is this your doing?’ he asked, and did not for a moment expect an honest answer.
    ‘My dear boy, I am merely a humble adviser and a simple civilian. How could I possibly play a role in the orders given to soldiers? However, it is certainly a happy chance, and they may be of help to you. You cannot tell me that Dobson is not a skilled killer.’ Baynes smiled, looking like an innocent child except for his eyes. ‘Or your Mr Williams, for that matter.’

8
     
    W illiams tried to rub some life back into his hands and was grateful for the shelter provided by the officers’ tent, even if the flaps were tied back and let the wind in. There was the heavy drumming of raindrops on the canvas as yet another downpour started, and in less than a minute individual beats were lost in a constant onslaught. The storms did not last long, but were bitter when they came, and his greatcoat was so wet that he had allowed Dobson to take it into the chapel and dry it by one of the fires lit by the greenjackets of the 95th.
    ‘Foul night,’ he said, to make conversation with the three subalterns in the tent, and as true Englishmen they considered the matter and then solemnly assented. Dolosa, one of Morillo’s officers from the Princesa Regiment, nodded politely, while following little of the conversation.
    ‘Been foul days