Whose Business Is to Die Read Online Free PDF Page A

shoulder, the melancholy procession as the Highlanders carried him back to the town, the general’s lucidity, concern for the fate of the day and of his own staff. Long had joined the men attending him in those last hours, as had Colborne, watching the man they admired above all slip away. ‘He was the best of us,’ Long said, as if to himself. The brigadier looked pale and sallow. ‘Well,’ he added in a firmer tone. ‘What is it you want of me?’
    Hanley explained their concern to secure the French siege train.
    ‘Well, as to that, sir, perhaps you should direct your petition to Marshal Beresford. He commands here and appears eager to instruct us all in every detail of our duties.’ Long frowned, perhaps concerned that his comment was indiscreet.
    There was a strange gurgling sound, quite distinct, and clearly emanating from a human or animal body. The brigadier general pursed his lips, but said nothing. His eyes looked at each of them in turn as if in challenge.
    ‘Go to the marshal, sir. I have no time for such matters now. First we must beat these fellows before I can concern myself with capturing convoys miles away along the road. Let the marshal worry about that for you.’
    ‘Would you object if we stayed to watch?’ Baynes ventured, with none of the usual assurance in his voice.
    ‘You may do as you please, sir, but do not get in my way.’ The general shifted slightly in his saddle and at that moment broke wind, the sound amplified by the leather.
    No one betrayed any sign of noticing.
    ‘Good day to you, sir,’ the general said. ‘And it is good to see you again, Lieutenant.’
    As they moved away, Williams did his best to maintain an impassive expression. A stout old fellow who tended to sit in front of his family in church back in Bristol had been prone to similar eruptions, almost always in the moments of silence during a service. His sisters would giggle whenever it happened, and it was hard not to join them. Their mother, the stern, devout, unyielding Mrs Williams, who never let anyone forget her pride in being born a Campbell, would have reproved them with a look, and then once they were home gone off to a room on her own and laughed out loud.
    His head snapped round as movement flickered all along the line of dragoons. The French cavalry had drawn their long straight swords.
    ‘It may be only a threat,’ he said quietly, ‘or they may have decided to see us off their land.’
    Brigadier General Long trotted over to speak to the commander of the 13th Light Dragoons, and they were close enough to hear the exchange.
    ‘Colonel Head, there’s your enemy. Attack him.’ Long’s voice was calm and confident, no doubt meant to be heard by the light dragoons. Fortunately there was no repeat of the recent emissions. ‘And now, Colonel, the heavy brigade are coming up on your rear, and, if you have an opportunity, give a good account of these fellows.’
    ‘By gad, sir, I will,’ was the simple soldier-like response. Lieutenant Colonel Head walked his horse round to the front of his regiment.
    Williams and the others stopped some fifty yards or so behind the line.
    ‘The Thirteenth will prepare to advance,’ Head shouted in a high, clear voice. ‘Draw swords.’
    This time they heard the grating sound of steel blades scraping free of their scabbards. An old troop sergeant had once toldWilliams that the noise broke his heart every time he heard it because the metal rubbing against metal took a little off the finely honed edge. Even so it was invigorating, a hint of firm purpose like screwing a bayonet on to the muzzle of a musket.
    His horse’s ear flicked forward in excitement. He patted her neck, noticing that the King’s German Legion hussars were calming their horses as instinct took over and they wanted to join the rest. Williams reached over to draw his sword and then felt Baynes’ arm on his.
    ‘Not yet, if you please. I would prefer you to stay back with us and watch,’ the plump