Beat the Drums Slowly by Adrian Goldsworthy

was less than utterly selfish, and she had to confess to herself that this made the danger all the more delicious. She could not trust Wickham, and part of her wanted to match her wits and her own determination against his challenge. She liked to think that she would not succumb, at least not to any serious extent, but she was not absolutely sure that this was true. For the moment, she tried to hold to her resolve not to go, or in any way answer such an impertinent request.
    At least no one else would ever know. With more reluctance than she had expected, Jane dropped the note into the fire and watched the paper blacken and curl.
    The retreat began at noon on Christmas Eve. Sir John Moore and Colonel Graham watched the southernmost column set out. Hope’s division of ten battalions was to be followed by Fraser’s division with another nine. They followed the same route as the advance, trudging along the road to Mayorga, to the bridge over the Esla at Castro Gonzalo and so to Benevente. At the same time Baird took his eight battalions in a separate column to cross the river at Valencia de Don Juan.
    Moore stared fixedly at the passing soldiers in their long grey greatcoats, and only a friend as close as Graham would have noticed the marks of concern in his expression.
    The men marched without spirit. There was no singing, no laughter, and even the drums of the closest regiment seemed forlorn. The French would face the same grim weather and execrable roads, but they were advancing and everything about them would be eager. The Emperor’s presence was likely only to make them drive on faster.
    ‘Two days,’ Sir John said softly. ‘Give me two marches before the French really know how close we are and the greatest danger should be over.’
    ‘Lord Paget reports no sign yet even of enemy patrols,’ Graham confirmed.
    ‘Good. I should prefer not to fight a battle here, but I must if they press me. Baird will be beyond recall. We simply cannot march together at any speed. At this season I will not make the men sleep in the open unless there is no other choice. Look at those fields.’ He pointed to the slopes of the hills rising gently beyond the road. ‘Not more than a few bits of scrub. There is no wood to make fires or cook, and without those men would start to die. So we must spread the divisions, and let them each take quarters in a different place each night.
    ‘Has General La Romana been reminded that it would be the greatest assistance to us if he keeps his men farther north and avoids our line of march?’ Colonel Graham nodded. ‘And has he been urged in the strongest fashion to deny the French the bridge at Mansilla for as long as possible, or even to destroy it?’
    ‘He assures us he will. How long he may hold will depend on how fast our friend Soult takes before he strikes. Where shall we concentrate the army again?’
    ‘I am not yet sure that we shall, but if we do it shall not be before Astorga. However, it may prove expedient to employ more than one route. I most strongly doubt that we can maintain ourselves in this part of Spain against the enemy’s numbers. So that means embarkation and so in turn depends on where the navy can best come to us.’
    ‘But surely, should enough of the army be together and the chance arrive, you will let us take a rub at the French?’ For a moment the elderly colonel implored with all the enthusiasm of an excited child. ‘There is not a man in the whole army who will not feel mortified and disappointed at the orders countermanding the advance.’
    Moore could not help grinning. ‘And I thought we Scots were famed above all for our prudence.’ Graham chuckled. ‘Perhaps in the days to come. I do not know, and will not waste men’s lives without some worthwhile object. If we advanced now, Marshal Soult would be a fool not to withdraw before us. In four days’ time we most likely would not have provoked a general action, and by then the corps advancing from Madrid