7th Day - starting out for Pombal

"You can believe him, sir. He's helped a couple of Hogan's men out of a sticky situation."

Sharpe failed to mention the sticky situation they'd all found themselves in shortly afterwards, though.

"If you need to know owt else, ask Major Hogan at Army Headquarters. I ain't sure what I'm allowed to tell you, but he's one of ours, right enough, sir."

Ah. That was a tricky question. Calderón knew better than to look at Lieutenant Sharpe or even Perkins for support. He also knew not to mention Major Hogan's name, at least not with that young red-coat and Perkins present.

Or perhaps Lieutenant Sharpe was willing to run that risk himself. Damn him.

Shrugging, Calderón answered, "I have come to know how to look, sir. And to listen. You may believe me or disbelieve as you wish. I simply bring the information."

Much further back down the column Sir Arthur was having a quiet conversation with Hogan. Apparently what they boy had said atllied in pretty much with what they knew of the fate of the 3eme already - including that several were still on the run when Mattoso had left them, and most likely made the rumour that a handful hand made it back to Oporto Willoughby had overheard more likely to be true.

Wellesley wished the letter he had written to Maturin on. It had only been sent yesterday afternoon, and so would not reach him until Wednesday morning, at the earliest; even if the courier rode all day and all night and could find places to frequently change horse.

Edrington suppressed a smile at Sharpe's statement. So, he knew the man by sight, or he could not have vouched for him. Well, he had always suspected that Sharpe had done more for Hogan than simply carry messages, and now that was confirmed. He saw the Portuguese's look of irritation and allowed the edge of the smile to be seen. "Well, if you're one of ours, then I must of course believe you. Captain Hunter, would you tell Sir Arthur what we have learned. And..." He turned back to the man, whose name he still did not know. "Will you wait to talk to our General, who may have further questions?"

Calderón tried very hard not to look more annoyed and hoped he was successful. He would have preferred to avoid mentioning Hogan's name at all, for it could mean all sorts of unpleasant questions, not to mention suspicions.

"Of course," the scout answered with a thin smile. What he really wanted was to get back near the village and find out what, if anything, had changed.

Hunter seeing that the conversation was over, turned to Edrington:
'With your permission, my lord, I shall seek out Sir Arthur'.

"I think he should know, and he may wish to speak to this gentleman." Edrington nodded dismissal to Hunter, and then smiled at Sharpe and the Portuguese. "Perhaps we should move on - keep up with the column. We do not want them to march into Pombal without us." Sir Arthur, if he chose to come, could ride up to join them. Sharpe, on foot would have more difficulty in catching up if they got too far behind the front of the column.

Hunter saluted to Colonel and nodding to the other men present rode off to find the General. When he rode up, Wellesley seemed to be having an off and on conversation with Major Hogan; saluting both, Hunter waited for Sir Arthur to turn his attention to him, chanting to himself, ironically enough, words of a fourteen year old boy: 'Treat him like an itch'.

With his dismissal, Perkins was glad to leave the Portuguese in the hands of the officers and to return to Harris and Carty up ahead. He was glad though that he had been able to hear the man's news. A whole regiment, seven hundred French in Pombal! Wherever that was. Maybe Harris would know.

Following the inconclusive skirmish between the Rifles and the French grenadiers, some more action had been expected. Waldegrave could not decide whether he was nervous or excited about the prospect. Excited, he had decided, until the hubbub surrounding the return of the Scots Greys patrol had aroused him, and he had found himself unable to sleep again. Dawn had brought a summons from Colonel Edrington, and a request that he, and Lieutenant Pleydell would place themselves at his disposal as messengers during the early part of the march. There was indeed a small force of Frenchmen ahead.

"If there is a concerted - by us or them - you will return to your companies. Until then, I want to be sure that the column does not begin to straggle - you will check that all parts remain at their proper distance. Ride up and down, and report to me immediately if gaps open, so the 62nd can slow down. We'll trust that the Rifles on patrol remain in touch."

That had been then, and Waldegrave had ridden Acorn on the right flank, while Pleydell and his bay mare Daphne had taken the left - passing each other, one trotting to the head of the column while the other walking in the opposite direction. Beyond them, the red coats of the light companies could be seen, in pairs between the olive trees and the hills beyond, where, Waldegrave assumed the riflemen were skulking, to provide them with an early warning of any French attack.

[Waldegrave reappears here]

The movement of a horseman riding in the opposite direction to the column and Sir Arthur saw tha it was Hunter. An unconscious frown contracted his eyebrows; the sight of which prompted Hogan to raise his eyebrows.

"Now try not to scare the lad, sir," he murmured, like a nursemaid reminding a child to mind his manners.

The General gave an irritated grunt, before nodding in acknowledgement of the aide's salute as he met them. He tightened his grip on Hercules' reigns as he felt the horse shift a little.

"Hunter. What news?"

Hunter saluted to Sir Arthur and Major Hogan. 'I bring a report from Colonel Edrington, sir. The regiment of French in Pombal numbers about 700 men, all infantry. A scout from Pombal assured us that there was no artillery or cavalry. Some buildings on the outskirts are fortified and there is possibility of a powder store kept in the church. However, it was also noted that the French seemed to be preparing to leave the town. He also noted the positions of the French picquets for Colonel Edrington, and the man is now with him in case you would like to question him directly, sir'. Hunter kept his gaze neutral and his voice the same. Firebird unlike moments before, stilled too, only her nose twitching a little.

That was certainly more like it. Wellesley's expression brightened considerably.

"I shall certainly wish to talk to him. Coming, Hogan?"

"Thank you, sir, but I'd rather stay back here in safety. No built for dashing around, am I."

"Have it your way," Wellesley said, before putting his heels back and spurring on towards the front of the column. "We'll pick Brandon and Picton up on the way!" he called back to Hunter, as the aide tried to keep up."

He put

Hunter watched Wellesley speed away and saw there for a moment a man he admired and respected during the campaign in Denmark. He spurred Firebird on, but kept her just behind Hercules, she followed easily and could have overtaken him, but he checked her.

Unaware of Hunter's reflections, Sir Arthur urged Hercules on along the column, catching up to where Picton and the rest of his retinue has stayed.

"Come along, Picton! You too, Brandon; we have work to do!" he called cheerfully as he trotted past, slowing enough for them to hear him. Picton muttered a curse but followed on the same, and once sure that they were following Wellesley picked up speed again into the canter, happy at the anticipation of some positive action at last.

"Where away, Hunter?" he called back over his shoulder.

Hunter eased his hold on the reins a little to let Firebird catch up with Hercules, so that he would not need to shout the directions. However he underestimated Firebird's eagerness for a proper gallop and he managed to check her just in the nick of time so that he was riding almost side by side with Wellesley. Firebird was disappointed and snorted and jerked at the reins, shaking her head rather furiously. 'Keep going straight, sir, we shall be able to see Colonel Edrington and his officers presently on the right, sir.' With that Hunter steadfastly ignored the displeasure of his horse: the only way to stop her would be to let his own displeasure show and he just did not feel comfortable doing that in front Wellesley.

Hunter came up beside him, his mare doubtless eager to outrun Hercules, but the boy aliantly kept her in check. Wellesley steered his stallion in the correct direction, giving him more of his head to pick up speed, and soon saw Edrington up ahead, a small knot of officers and riflemen surrounding him.

Edrington turned at the sound of hooves and saw Wellesley, Picton and a couple of aides - Brandon and Hunter. They had come to speak to the Portuguese, obviously, and he turned to him. "This is our General," he said warningly. "Tell him the truth. All the truth, if he asks."

Calderón nodded, straightening up a little that he might appear more presentable. He knew of Wellesley, of course, and good impressions were important for circumstances like this.

"I will," the scout answered and waited to be addressed.

Wellesley reigned Hercules in before the group, nodding to the colonel.

"Good day to you, Edrington. Is this the man?"

He turned to look at Calderón, unable to conceal the eagerness in his eyes.

Hunter did not join the group of offcers: as soon as Wellesley's attention was fully on Edrington, Hunter made the still rebellious Firebird fall back a few lengths behind the others. He could feel her muscles quivering, the way she was ready to spring into gallop the moment she felt him let down his guard. He slapped her none too gently on the neck: 'I told you to behave sensibly, didn't I? I promised you will have your run today and you will, now behave!'. Firebird finally stilled and relaxed a fraction.

Presently George heard a horse approaching: it was Fernao.
'You really should not be here, Fernao', he said throwing a meaningful glance at the nearby officers.
'I know, I just wanted to ask if there really are French nearby?'
'Yes, there are. You can expect a battle today'.
Fernao shifted in his saddle. 'I... I don't have a weapon, except a short knife'. Hunter looked sharply at him. 'You are not going to fight'. The boy bristled: 'I am not saying I'll leap into the fray, but I'd still like to have a weapon'. To some extent Fernao was right: it was better if the boy had something to defend himself with. For a brief moment George had a crazy notion of giving him his sabre, he didn't expect it to be of any use to him today. In the end he drew out one of the daggers that were hidden in the side of his boots and handed it to Fernao.
'Have it until we reach Coimbra, we'll get you something better there'.
Fernao studied the dagger then pushed it behind his belt.
'I didn't know British officers carried something like this'. Hunter smiled: 'They usually don't'.

"He says he's been watching the French in Pombal," Edrington confirmed. It seemed indiscreet to pass on Sharpe's comments about the man's connection with Hogan. "He thinks they'll be leaving soon. One regiment, no artillery or cavalry."

Calderón nodded when the red-coat colonel spoke. It was a fair, succinct summary of the scout's report.

Riding right into the midst of a marching army was foolhardy and brazen in the extreme, luckily a single man on horseback dressed in civilian clothing did not warrant any shots. He warranted some comments, but Fandorin simply smiled and nodded and when addressed spoke cheerfully in German and kept saying 'General Wellesley'. Finally soldiers gave up on him, probably assigning him to the list of dumb foreigners, and simply pointed in the direction where Wellesley was to be found.

When he saw the rather large group of officers where he was supposed to finally find the General, Fandorin suddenly felt apprehensive. From the conversations he heard around him, it was quite obvious that the army will soon be engaging the enemy; Wellesley was also surrounded by too many people and although he did have a rather important reason to speak with him, attracting attention of so many officers would not be good. Nevertheless, Fandorin rode on: with luck Hunter would be one of those officers and he could at least find out what the boy looked like.

Stopping his horse some meters away from the group, Fandorin dusted off his coat: he was dressed simply but expensively and he hated any imperfections in his clothing. Unfotunately the black cloth of his coat and trousers showed the light coloured dust too well. Glancing to the left he saw a young man talking to a boy in Spanish: something in his features aroused Fandorin's suspicion. Yet, it was not the time for this: he will speak to Wellesley first and foremost, if only to rid himself of the too precious cargo he was carrying. Having carried the diamonds all the way from Saint-Petersburg to Portugal, he was getting weary of their company.

[OOC: I realise that having two named characters in the same thread is rather insane, but I promise I am going to boot Fandorin out of here very soon]

Shooing Fernao away Hunter noticed a man approach. He was without a doubt a civillian, but dressed in expensive clothing, his manner confident. George noted the somewhat impatient glance the man threw at the group of the officers and made Firebird walk over to the man.
'Are you wishing to speak to the General, sir?' The man looked straight at him, his eyes pupil-less and unnerving.