1 June, Away from the Baggage

Continued from Aches and Pains


Maggie did not dare look back as she ran, certain of being pursued by men on horseback or foot, either of which would have been much faster than her. She would realize later that trying to escape from the French by running was not a very sensible idea, but she was not in the frame of mind to think it through just now. And so driven by panic and desperation, she ran.

And somehow, in spite of the foolishness of the decision, she escaped. She gradually realized that she was not being pursued by an army of horsemen. When at last she took a chance and glanced behind, the baggage was long out of site, lost behind a bend in the hillside road.

She stopped, out of breath and side aching, not to mention her sore feet with their flimsy little boots. She did not know how far or how long she had run, but she had still not caught up with the column. How far ahead could they be? How much time had passed since the baggage had been cut off? It had felt like an eternity while she was hiding there under the cart, but how long had it really been?

She leaned over with her hands on on her knees, wishing for a drink and trying to block out the persistent nagging thought: what had happened to the rearguard and her husband?

The breathless Rifleman had reached them not ten minutes before, close to pitching over off his feet but able to gasp out his message plainly enough. French cavalry attaching the rearguard. Blackwood had received the weary greenjacket and immediately sent a runner of his own forward, to alert Colonel Trevor - who, doubtless, would send a man to seek out the headquarters element with the news.

In the meantime, the right course of action was clear. It took less time than Blackwood had anticipated for Trevor to give the necessary orders. Three companies to detach themselves from the regiment and go to support the rearguard. The Light Company, its numbers bolstered somewhat by small drafts from battalion companies, was amongst those three. It was a miracle all its own.

Major Croft set them off at a brisk pace, perhaps more interested in achieving some personal glory than in assisting the Rifles. The road was unkind to their quick-moving feet but by now they were used to hard marching. As long as they got to the Riflemen and were able to turn the danger back, it hardly mattered.

"Sir!" Sergeant Northcut had spotted something ahead, at which he stared intently, his eyes narrowed. "That's a person there."

A person, on the road? Ahead of the baggage? Blackwood nodded sharply at Northcut, who turned away to dash back toward Major Croft, and touched his heels back. His horse moved forward immediately to a canter, which closed the distance between himself and the motionless figure. Four men followed him as best they could, hurrying over the roughened road in his wake.

"You there," Blackwood called as he drew near. "Who are you?"

Maggie had grown alert at the sound of a horse, but she realized with relief that it was coming from ahead, not behind. She must be near the column after all. But it was a great surprise to look up and see that it was an officer, and one riding towards her. And speaking to her.

"Sir!" she called, reviving and running to meet him. "Sir, the baggage, the French took the baggage, there were carts in the road, and then they were ahead and behind and all around, and I hid, and the rifles were supposed to be behind us and my husband!" she gasped, pointing down the road behind her.

Her report was startling. The French had taken the baggage? For an instant, Blackwood could only stare at the woman in disbelief. How could they have...?

"How far behind you is the baggage?" Blackwood asked, the heartbeat of surprise gone. "Is it infantry?"

If so, the three companies could do well on their own. If it was more cavalry, however... they would need cavalry assistance themselves.

"Horses," she answered breathlessly, still pointing down the road. "I ran all the way. All the women and everyone, and the wounded men and all, but I don't know where the rifles went!" she added in distress.

Good God. Cavalry ahead of them. "We were sent back to help the Rifles," Blackwood explained, then twisted in his saddle. "Cavalry in the baggage!" He bellowed, both hands cupped around his mouth. The news caused an immediate stir amongst the other mounted officers. As it should. This was clearly much worse than they had first thought.

An officer was already galloping away back along the road to deliver this fresh news. It was the least they could do.

"Did anyone else escape with you?"

She shook her head at first, but then shrugged. "I don't know. Some people ran off at the start, but I was hiding. But my husband's in the 60th rifles, sir, Captain Vickery's company, he's his batman, Gabriel Cotton, they were behind us, won't you help him? And they took Joe Newbury but he's injured, and he was fighting them when I ran and what if they've gone and killed him?"

She covered her mouth with her hands. With the return of her breath was coming a renewal of her earlier hysteria, but she was trying to fight it down in the presence of an officer.

He was down from his saddle in an eye-blink. "We'll clear the French out of there," Blackwood promised. "And we'll look for anyone from the Rifles."

The short column was hurrying past them now, their pace even more quick since they knew the enemy was close.

She took a nervous step back as he dismounted his horse, but it was after all easier to talk to him now that they were on the same level. "Oh sir!" she exclaimed, keeping her voice quiet in an attempt to keep it under control. "What do you think's happened to them?"

Blackwood was obliged to shake his head. "I dare not guess, madam. But we shall soon know. Now come, it'll do well to get closer to the army."

"That's where I was heading, sir."

"Indeed. Let us go together, then," Blackwood suggested, taking the reins of his horse in hand. He thought for a second before adding, "If you would care to ride..."

She shook her head, surprised. "I'd rather walk, sir. But aren't you going with the men, to find the rifles and the baggage?" She was too distressed to realize that she was, in effect, telling an officer his duty.

For a second, he was tempted to smile. "Major Croft commands, over me. They are well-led." Blackwood left unsaid the thought that the French might attempt an even bolder move than simply sweeping past the rearguard to sack the baggage. If he left the poor woman to walk alone, she might find herself a prisoner after all.

"Oh," was all she could think to answer, and she fell into step behind him.

"It may be harsh of me to ask, but was there no warning of the French coming?" Blackwood enquired, curious as to how the enemy had managed to sneak up on the baggage train without some sort of alarm being raised first.

She frowned, trying to remember details from the chaos. "Well, someone must've said, because everyone started running and screaming. That was just a few minutes before they showed up."