rider she imagined to be the captain.
‘Wellington’s got ’em hiding, I expect.’ The soldier pointed out of the window. ‘See those hedges?’ She nodded.
‘Our boys are behind there, I’d wager.’
As the columns moved by the hedge, the crack of firearms could be heard. ‘Rifles,’ the soldier explained.
The columns edged away from the rifle fire and lost their formation. Suddenly a line of English soldiers rose up and fired upon them. Countless French soldiers fell as if they were in a game of skittles, but still others advanced until meeting the British line. The two sides began fighting hand to hand.
Marian turned away from the sight. ‘Napoleon has too many men.’
‘The Cuirassiers are coming.’ Anxiety sounded in the soldier’s voice. Cuirassiers were the French cavalry.
Marian felt like weeping, but she turned to watch the Cuirassiers on their powerful horses charging toward the English soldiers while the French drums still beat, over and over.
A battle was not glorious to watch, she thought, closing her eyes again. It was all about men wounded and men dying, not at all what she and Domina had imagined.
‘They’re breaking!’ the soldier said.
Marian could not bear to see her countrymen running away like the French had run from Hougoumont. Her chin trembled and her throat constricted with unspent tears.
‘I’ll be damned.’ The soldier whistled. ‘If that is not a sight.’
Marian opened her eyes.
The French, not the British, had broken from their lines and were running away. ‘I don’t understand. Why did they run?’
‘Who can tell?’ The soldier laughed. ‘Let’s be grateful they did.’
She was indeed grateful, but by now she knew not to ask if the battle was over. The French would try again and Napoleon was known to pull victory from the jaws of defeat.
Marian took a breath and mentally braced herself for whatever came next.
Allan rode the ridge. After taking MacDonnell’s message to Wellington, he searched for Picton, who seemed nowhere to be found. He’d settle for Tranville, then, for new orders.From the distance he’d seen the second siege of Hougoumont and gave a cheer when the French had again been repelled.
He reached his regiment, the Royal Scots, just as the French attacked. Artillery pummelled the French columns, but still men in the front ranks fought hard in hand-to-hand combat. Allan unsheathed his sword and rode into the thick of it.
The fighting was fierce and bloody. Fists flew and bayonets jabbed and the air filled with the thud of bodies slamming into each other, of grunts and growls and cries of pain. Allan slashed at the French soldiers, more than once slicing into their flesh as they were about to kill. They came at him, trying to pull him from his horse. He managed to keep both his horse and himself in one piece, but blood and mud splattered on to his clothing. By the time the French retreated his arm was leaden with fatigue, and he breathed hard from the effort of the battle.
For a mere moment he indulged in the relief of still being alive, but only for a moment. He quickly resumed his search for Picton and Tranville, but spied Gabriel Deane instead. He headed towards his friend. Gabe, too, would have fought without heed to his own survival and Allan said a silent prayer of thanks that he appeared unscathed. General Tranville had been always been unfair to Gabe, denying him promotion because Gabe’s father was in trade.
‘Gabe!’ he called. ‘Have you seen Picton?’
Gabe rode up to him. ‘Picton is dead. Shot right after he gave the order to attack.’
Allan bowed his head. ‘I am sorry to hear of it.’ The eccentric old soldier might have retired after this. ‘Where is Tranville, then?’
‘Struck down as well,’ Gabe answered.
‘Dead?’ Allan would not so strongly grieve if Tranville was lost.
Gabe shook his head. ‘I do not know. I saw him fall and I’ve not seen him since.’
Orders came for the cavalry to
R. L. Lafevers, Yoko Tanaka