18th May - Camp at Avelãs.

George told Thornton to wait for him, so he could help the man get the pie safely to the kitchen and came back in. 'Yes, sir.'

"Would you be so good as to ride down to the northern picquets and see whether they have anything to report? If not remind the duty officer that he is to send immediate word back to Headquarters should anything occur, hough I doubt he shall need it."

Though after the last 'incident' went unreported he wouldn't like to bank on it.

"It will be the 5th on tonight."

'Yes, sir. I will just see Thornton to the parlour.'

"Thank you, Hunter."

When the door was closed again Wellesley turned back to Brandon and raised a querying eyebrow.

George went with Thornton to the parlour, and then quickly left the house, as Thornton seemed intent on pressing a slice of pie on him.

"Good night, Captain." Brandon was glad that Hunter seemed to be in a rather better mood than when he rode off. "And thank you for the stew" he added with a lopsided smile as he watched Hunter close the door.

He turned to Sir Arthur and was surprised to see him look at him queryingly. "I did not expect him to be back so soon.” He shrugged his shoulders slightly “But the better, so he can return to his duties.”
He looked down at the papers in front of them. “What were saying about the French before we were interrupted?”

"Yes - That for the moment we seem safe from immediate French re-enforcement." Sir Arthur frowned though and tapped the paper immediately in front of him. "But these sheets were captured a few weeks ago, and the French must know by know that the agent was eliminated... I would sorely like some fresher information before we are wholly committed to a line of attack."

"That would be sensible, yes." Brandon looked thoughtful. "Hogan surely knows whom best to send. Did you hear from him lately?" He could not remember when he last saw the intelligence officer but found himself to be at a loss for making a suggestion on how to get more information.

"Murray is with him now. He should be back with news, if there is any, within the hour."

OOC - Moving the group forward a bit. From here.

IC -

There seemed to be, Calderón decided, definite advantages to having command of an army. Chief amongst those was getting the pick of available billets. If the scout was inclined to sleeping under a roof, he would enjoy such luxuries as often as he could.

He hung back outside the door, arms folded, and waited for the two officers to go inside and make their presence known.

George knocked at the door and waited for the answer, wondering if the two men were still sitting on the floor.

Wellesley looked up in surprise at the knock, then back to Brandon.

"That may even be him now. Who is there?"

'Colonel Edrington and Mr. Dimas, sir.'


[OOC: not sure if Hunter knows Calderon's name. x _ x And if I can announce Edrington in such a fashion. sorry.]

[OOC: I don't think he does. Stephen used the name 'Dimas', so it might be better to call him that? Will edit if not.]

Dimas? Where did he know that name from...? It was also highly unusual for Edrington to come calling at this time of night. It must certainly be something urgent.

"Show them in, Hunter."

George opened the door and waited for the two men to go inside.

Calderón stepped past the man, who was apparently called Hunter, and proceeded exactly three paces past the door.

"Sir," he greeted with a slight inclination of his head.

Dimas turned out to be a Portuguese civilian; a labourer or a beggar by the looks of it, and certainly not a man Wellesley had ever knowingly set eyes upon in his life.

"Good evening, senhor," he replied evenly, and raised a questioning eyebrow at Edrington.

George, satisfied, shut the door quietly on the group. Picquets report could wait.

[Sir Arthur met Calderon before the skirmish at Pombal, even 'eying him eagerly' (though there wasn't any actual conversation]

[And I'm not sure which side of the door Hunter is on ]

"You will remember Senhor Dimas, I am sure. He brought us news of the French regiment in Pombal, and their defences. He has more news, this time of the French forward position on the Vouga. I thought it best that you speak together." Edrington motioned the Portuguese forward.

He placed him now, Wellesley realised. Yes, before the attackj of Pombal, though they had not spoken... Well, they would speak now. He levered himself up off the floor, and dusted down his trowsers.

"Indeed? Thank you, Edrington. You have news for us, senhor?" he queried, directing his gaze to Dimas.

Calderón inclined his head. "I do, sir. The French have placed an advanced guard at Albergaria Nova. It is a mixture of infantry and cavalry, with one light gun battery with them. I have also seen cavalry across your line of march."

Wellesley immediately turned to Brandon and demanded a map.

"Albergaria Nova," he murmured to himself as it was unrolled on the bed and his eyes searching for their current location in relation to the French. "Do you have any idea of what numbers?"

"I would mark them as being over one thousand strong with cavalry," Calderón answered. "With seven hundred of infantry."

Tidy little force then.

"And what do you know of the French further north?" he questioned. "Where is their next line of defence?"

"Feira. There is a force also at Grijon. These I have not seen myself so I cannot tell you in detail of them." Unfortunately. "I have been told, however, that both forces are large."