Jack Steel Adventure Series Books 1-3: Man of Honour, Rules of War, Brothers in Arms. Iain Gale
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back up the street towards the square, Steel began once again to shout into the traversing alleyways, desperate to gather to him all the men he could.
‘Grenadiers. To me.’
Three redcoats had joined him as he ran and from the top of the hill another dozen of his men, Corporal Taylor, along with Tarling, Cussiter, Milligan, Henderson, Hopkins, came running to meet him. He shouted to Taylor.
‘Is that all of us?’
‘Think so, Sir.’
‘Where’s Major Jennings?’
‘Han’t seen him, Sir.’
Damn that man, thought Steel. They needed everyone now. And to be honest, Jennings was as good a fighter as they had. He spotted another seven of Jennings’ men, including Stringer, and called to them.
‘You men. Sarn’t Stringer. Follow me.’
At the top of the street he turned and counted his small force. Eighteen in all.
‘Right. This is where you stand. This is as far as they’re going to get. Corporal Taylor, Hopkins, Tarling, you other men. Form up here. Three ranks. Load up and have a second round ready. Be sure to check your flints and fix your bayonets. Oh, and if you see Major Jennings, tell him he’s wanted on the bridge.’
He positioned the men himself so that they were standing right at the top of the narrow street, facing down in the direction of the bridge. Three ranks deep, front rank kneeling, with six men in each rank – a hedge of bayonets and loaded muskets.
‘Now listen all of you, and listen well. You’re our final hope. Our last chance. Do nothing until you see me running up the street, then, quick as you can split in two and move to the sides. Half to the right, half to the left. We’ll be running straight for you, so make it quick. The minute we’re through your ranks, you close up. You’d better be ready. They’ll be right up our arses. Taylor, you’re in charge. Cussiter, you come with me.’
At the double the two men raced across the square to the carriage.
‘Herr Weber, Miss Louisa. Out please, if you wouldn’t mind. We’re going to find you somewhere a little less exposed.’
He turned to Cussiter.
‘Take them into that house over there. Make sure that they’re safe. Stay with them.’
Kretzmer stared at him.
‘I suppose you had better take him with you. Though frankly, I’d rather leave him in the carriage. It would save a lot of trouble if he caught a stray shot.’
In truth, he was half-tempted to shoot the man himself and pretend it to have been enemy fire. But there was no time for that. Steel turned and ran back down towards the bridge. The firing had ceased and he presumed that the cavalry had withdrawn to regroup. As far as Steel was aware across the bridge was the only way into the town. It was a natural defensive position but he knew too that it would not be enough for his small force to hold off a troop of hussars and whatever infantry they had in tow. If they were to survive, his simple trap would be the only chance they had.
Major Jennings had also made a plan. Moving from house to house up the hill, parallel to the main street, he had now reached the square. In his hand he held a short infantry sword, a side-weapon borrowed from Stringer. He had but one purpose in mind. He had heard the crack of musketry from the bridge below and the cries as the redcoats engaged the French. Had watched the cavalry charge from an upstairs window. The arrival of the hussars had been a real stroke of luck. Oh, he knew now why they were here. He had guessed that the white-coated Grenadier Major, whoever he might be, was after the package that he himself was so determined to have from Steel. But his presence was an irrelevance, although it did imply that the hussars might have infantry support. Even without it, it was clear to Jennings that their small force was about to engage in a desperate fight. And that, he realized, was all the opportunity he needed. Why bother with the risk of slitting Steel’s throat in his sleep when he could kill him in the mêlée, retrieve the letter and turn a bungled mission into a moment of glory? He saw the men drawn up in three ranks at the head of the street and, moving to another of the lanes leading to the river, Jennings lengthened his stride and began to run as fast as he could towards the bridge.
The hussars, as Steel had predicted, had come at them in the only way they could. Straight across the bridge. The redcoats’ first volley had dropped six of the horsemen and those behind, surprised by the fury of the fire, had fallen back. Now, though, they had re-formed and, advancing three abreast across the bridge, they came on in a dense column of snorting animals and jangling harness. There was no room for them to accelerate to a charge, they knew it would be bloody murder. But the horsemen were determined and Steel knew that however many more of them his men killed and wounded with the next volley, they would prevail through sheer weight of numbers. He cocked his fusil and rested it in the ready position.
‘Make ready.’
Looking down the ranks he saw familiar faces and gauged their looks of apprehension and resignation.
‘On my command you will give fire. Then run like bloody hell up that hill. Grenadiers. Present.’
The hussars were almost on them now. Still at a trot, but at any moment they would be able to fan out at the head of the bridge and then, if the Grenadiers held their fire too long, it would all be over. Steel paused. Still he did not give the command. He saw Slaughter steadying someone’s gun and muttering words of encouragement.
‘Steady. Steady.’
Then it was time.
‘Fire.’
The air became a cloud of white smoke and ahead of them, just at the moment that the three leading hussars left the confines of the bridge, he saw eight or even ten of their number crash down in a heap of men and horses.
‘Right. Retire. All of you. Run.’
Steel began to walk backwards, still gazing at the carnage on the bridge. Some of his men, the old sweats, did likewise but most of them were already running hell for leather back up the little street.
And then he was with them, running too, as fast as he could go.
Steel knew that it would take a few moments for the cavalry to disentangle themselves from the dead and dying. But he knew too that once they were clear, he and his men would be defenceless until they reached the reserve at the top of the hill.
Steel cast a nervous look back over his shoulder and saw, emerging out of the clearing smoke, the distinctive shapes of the hussars. And now they were free to charge.
‘Run you buggers. Run.’
His boots slithered up the slippery cobbles, his heart thumping against his chest. He knew that a few of his men would go down. But this was their only hope. Ahead he could see now the three ranks of redcoats. He raised his hand, motioning them to the side.
With perfect precision they parted just in time to admit the remainder of the men in front of him. Steel was ten feet away from them now. From behind he heard a scream as one of the Grenadiers fell beneath a hussar’s bloody sabre. The line had to close up or else they would all be lost. He raised his hand again, signalling them to move together. Unquestioning, the men did as ordered and he was caught between the crash of approaching hoofbeats and a wall of bayonets and muskets. He dared not look round again, but he could feel the hot breath of a horse on his back. Six feet to go now. Five. With an almighty effort, Steel threw himself at the line of redcoats and, sensing the presence of something cutting the air immediately behind his neck, slid on his back across the cobbles before crashing into the feet of two of the front-rank men. At that exact instant, above his head, the world became a storm of shot as the redcoats opened up. Steel pressed his head into the stones and prayed.
Still lying down, he turned his face towards where the cavalry had been. As the smoke cleared he saw six of the horsemen and four horses lying dead and dying in the street. He knew that it wasn’t enough. Behind the shattered, blue-coated bodies he could see a block of hussars, riding