protruded over the casques of the former, and onward still they pressed,
shaking the very rock from which the rescued picquet viewed this new
conflict. Not a whit dismayed at the number or character of their
opponents, the undaunted cuirassiers met them half-way, and a most
gallant hand-to-hand conflict ensued. The scene when the adversaries
first met was a perfect combat in the style of the days of
chivalry,--the realization of a scene of romance. The proud battle-cry
of the Spaniards, answered by the '_Vive l'Empereur!_' of the
French,--the crash of lances, splintering on casque and corslet,--the
clash of blades,--the tramp of hoofs,--the dust,--the blood,--the groans
and shrieks,--the curses, the spurring and prancing, as the parties
intermingled,--the brown uniforms and the blue,--the steel helmets and
the brass,--the red plumes and the black,--the tall spears and uplifted
sabres flashing in the setting sun,--the gaudy standard of the
Spaniards,--the eagled guidon of the French, fluttering and waving above
the conflict--the dead and the wounded trodden heedlessly below,--formed
altogether a most exciting and soul-stirring scene.
Alvaro distinguished himself in no ordinary degree. The long horse-hair
on his crest was seen dancing up and down amidst the thickest of the
melee, and whenever his sword descended, a saddle was emptied by the
blow. But Ronald could not remain long to witness the valour of his
friend, although he eagerly wished to do so. He drew off the remnant of
his picquet, and crossing the Albuera, retired into the trenches of the
camp, where of course the whole division were under arms.
The outposts were driven in on all sides; and satisfied with this
display, Soult brought off his cavalry, who had suffered severely in the
contest. Ronald's wound was found to be severe; but the shoulder-blade
had escaped fracture, and as soon as it was dressed, he rejoined his
company with his arm slung. On the disappearance of the French, the
troops piled arms, and all was again the same as before, save the plain
in front of Albuera, which was strewn with dead and wounded, and other
relics of the skirmish.
As Stuart sat in his tent, writing an account of the day's fray for
Lochisla, the door became darkened, and Don Alvaro, entering, grasped
him by the hand. He was pale with fatigue, and Ronald knew, by the
increased gravity and sorrow imprinted on his features, that he was
aware of his sister's death, and that it lay heavy on his heart.
"_Amigo mio_," said he, "a minute later had seen your brave picquet cut
to pieces. We drove back these gay cuirassiers in glorious style,
fighting, like true soldados, at point of sword and spear every inch of
the way."
"I have a thousand thanks to return you, Don Alvaro, for the dauntless
manner in which you rode to the rescue. These cuirassiers were tough
fellows, and fought with a bravery, equalled only by that of their
opponents."
"Stay, senor; there is another subject on which I would rather converse
with you, than of our hourly occupation of fighting," replied Villa
Franca, as he cast aside his leather gauntlets, and unclasping his
helmet, wiped the dust from his swarthy face and dark moustaches.
"Catalina, my idolized sister,--I would ask you about her?"
Stuart's heart beat quicker. "You have then heard?" said he
sorrowfully.
"Yes, senor; from Ignacio El Pastor, a priest of Estremadura, I learned
the terrible intelligence. I fell in with him near Badajoz, when bearing
your letter to my cousin and wife Donna Inesella. I took the liberty of
opening it, and making myself master of its contents; and thus became
aware of my sister's dishonour and deplorable murder. Don Ronald
Stuart, there is something very singular in all that affair; and I must
request that you will give me a detailed account of the whole
occurrence, without the omission of a single circumstance, for the truth
of which I hold your honour, as a cavalier and soldier."
"How is this, Senor Alvaro?" replied Ronald, alike surprised and
displeased at the tone and bearing of the Spaniard. "I consider it next
to an impossibility that you should suspect me of any thing wrong, or of
leaving any thing undone."
"_Amiga mio_, your pardon. I spoke somewhat hastily; but when I mention
the tumult of this day's conflict, and the excitement which the
recollection of my dear and beautiful sister arouses within me, I have a
sufficient apology." He leant against the pole of the tent and covered
his face with his hands, betraying an emotion in which Ronald could not
but participate. "Pardon me, Senor Stuart," continued the cavalier,
"you loved my poor sister too well to deserve that I should judge
harshly of you; but say on, and tell all you know of her dreadful
death."
The Spaniard stretched himself on the turf floor of the tent, and
resting on his helmet, leant his head upon his hand, and fixing his keen
dark eyes upon Ronald's, listened to the account given by the latter of
her death. He began with his meeting her at Almarez, and without
concealing a single sentiment which had animated them, or an observation
which had passed, he continued the narrative down to the hour of her
burial at the convent of Jarciejo. But both became greatly excited as
the tale proceeded. Love, sorrow, and indignation caused Ronald's
features to flush, and his brow to knit; but those of the hot-brained
Spaniard became black with fury, and convulsed with the excess of those
passions to which his tongue could not give utterance. He wept and
groaned, and grasped the hilt of his poniard energetically. When Ronald
ceased, he started from the ground, with his large dark eyes flashing
like those of an incarnate demon.
"Moderate your transports, Don Alvaro; be calm, I beseech you!" said
Stuart, grasping him by the arm.
"Cavalier, your story has driven me to frenzy," cried he, through his
clenched teeth. "You cannot have loved Catalina as she deserved to be
loved, otherwise you would not be so calm in such a terrible hour as
this. Excuse me, senor; alas! I know not what I utter. You come of a
northern people, less prompt to ire and vengeance than the fiery
Spaniard. But much as you may have heard of Spanish vengeance," said
he, becoming suddenly calm, "all the tales that have been told of it
since the days of King Bamba or Roderick the Goth will fall immeasurably
short of mine. I have left no means untried to capture Narvaez
Cifuentes, but where the ban-dog lurks at present I know not. But the
hour of retribution will yet come, and my fury will burst on his devoted
brow like a thunderbolt." He sunk upon his knees, and ratified a solemn
vow of vengeance by kissing the bare blade and cross-hilt of his
stiletto. "Senor," said he, "is it the custom in your native land to
swear across the dagger?"[*]
[*] All oaths in courts of law, and others in Spain, are sworn across a
sword or dagger.
"In the days of my grandsire it was; and there are yet some among our
Scottish hills who consider none now binding, unless sworn over the
unsheathed dirk."
"'Tis well: it shows the military spirit of your people. Conform to the
present customs of Spain, and to those of your northern ancestors. Swear
with me, cavalier."
Promptly as Alvaro could have wished, Ronald unsheathed the long
Highland dirk with which he had lately equipped himself. It was a
handsome weapon set with jewels, and accoutred with knife and fork, like
the regimental dirks now worn by every Highland officer: and across it
he vowed to aid Alvaro in delivering Cifuentes up to vengeance.
"This is well. I will now be calm," said the cavalier in a tone of
satisfaction. "You may have some scruples about slaying the dog with
your own hand; but deliver him over to the first alcalde, and he will
reserve him for the fury of Alvaro of Villa Franca."
"Such a reservation may do, should I meet him in camp or city; but woe
to him should we forgather in any desert spot,--my sword and his heart
will not be long asunder."
"Spoken like a true hidalgo, who needs no friend save his own right
hand. Our Lady del Pilar! slay me this earthly fiend, and I will
consider you as much my brother as if my sister, my sublime Catalina,
had wedded you at the altar. Although in truth, to be frank with you, I
would rather she had bestowed her hand on her cousin, the Conde of
Truxillo, a brave cavalier, who has loved her long and dearly. What
now, Pedro? Do you bring me the list of killed and wounded?" said he, as
Serjeant Gomez stood erect at the triangular door of the tent, and
brought his right hand up to the peak of his helmet, in a sweeping
military salute.
"The Valencian rogue, senor cavalier; how are we to dispose of him?"
"Ha! I had forgotten. Right, my true soldado. A base goatherd, senor,"
said he, turning to Ronald, "a most contemptible traitor, who guided up
the ravine those hundred cuirassiers who so nearly cut your picquet off.
Pedro captured the rogue after the skirmish. He is a notorious spy and
traitor. Where is he now, Pedro?"
"Tied hard and fast, like a Merino sheep, under the belly of my
Andalusian," answered Pedro with a grin.
"You had better turn him over to the provost-marshal of the camp," said
Ronald; "he will give him his deserts from the branch of the nearest
tree. The rascal! by his treachery to his country my company has lost
fourteen gallant hearts, and I have won this wound."
"As he is a prisoner of mine," said Alvaro, "I will dispose of him, and
save senor the provost-marshal any trouble in the matter. Desire a file
of troopers to dismount and load their carbines,--no! that were a waste
of King Ferdinand's powder. Run your dagger into his throat, Pedro, and
see that you strike deep; then fling his carcase over the rocks into the
Albuera, and let it rot in that same ravine that he knows so well."
Pedro disappeared, and almost instantly a prolonged shriek, which
startled the whole camp, announced that the unscrupulous _sargento_ had
obeyed his orders to the very letter. Ronald was about to express some
abhorrence of this summary mode of execution, when he was interrupted.
"Villa Franca," said a handsome Spanish cavalry officer, about twenty
years of age, appearing at the door of the tent; "the Conde Penne
Villamur wishes to see you. Our brigade and De Costa's have been
ordered to the front, as an advanced post. Such are the orders of Sir
Rowland Hill. The conde would speak with you without delay, and our
trumpets will sound 'to horse' in an hour."
"'Tis well, Lorenzo. I am in a true fighting mood to-day, and our troop
of lancers are in glorious order. The Marquess de Montesa of Valencia,"
said Alvaro, introducing the stranger to Ronald, "the senior lieutenant
of my lances."
"A sharp skirmish that was, in which we were engaged a short time ago,
senor," said Montesa with a laugh. He was one of those gay fellows who
laugh at every thing. "We appear to have shared alike in the
misfortunes of war," he added, pointing to his left arm, which was bound
up in his red Spanish scarf.
"Ha, marquess! your presence reminds me of what other thoughts had
nearly driven from my memory. Look you, Senor Don Ronald," said Alvaro,
displaying a golden cross suspended by a red-and-yellow riband. "We
have been commissioned by my relative, Alfonso de Conquesta,
Grand-master of the military order of Saint James of Spain, to invest
you with this badge, and create you a knight-companion of our most
honourable order, as a reward for your bravery at Almarez, accounts of
which have been fully blazoned forth by the _Gacetas_ of Madrid and
other places."
Stuart, who had longed with all the ardour of a young soldier for some
of those military decorations with which the bosoms of foreign troops
are covered, received the cross with a pleasure which he could not
conceal. At that time neither medal nor star was to be seen in our
service, save among the officers of the 15th Light Dragoons, who
received from the Emperor of Germany an 'order of Merit' for their
singular bravery at Villiers-en-Couche, in 1794.
"A most beautiful cross indeed, Don Alvaro," said Stuart; "but our mess
are droll fellows, and I shall be sadly quizzed about it."
"A badge such as this should raise other sentiments than those of
ridicule in the minds of honourable cavaliers," observed Montesa. "You
will find it a star for the ladies' eyes to follow. Our Spanish damsels
know well, that the tried and proved soldier alone wins the cross and
riband of St. James."
"The marquess has your diploma of knighthood in his sabre-tache: he will
explain to you the rules of the order. Meanwhile, I shall attend the
noble conde," said Alvaro, and departed. The diploma, a parchment
containing the oath, the rules of the order, and bearing its seal
appended, was written in Spanish and Latin, and Ronald was a little
startled at the tenour of the vow.
"'Tis no small honour the noble and venerable Grand-master confers upon
you, senor," said Montesa, after reading over the document. "The order
of Saint James is one of the most ancient and chivalric in Spain. It
was instituted, in the year 1170, by Ferdinand II. king of Leon and
Galicia. It is conferred solely on hidalgos of the highest rank, very
seldom on foreigners, and never yet on a heretic."
"I am afraid, marquess, your Spanish prejudices will incline you to
class me with the latter."
"I trust that, although as true a Catholic as ever kissed cross, I have
more liberality, and the Grand-master is too anxious to enrol you as a
gallant soldier in the order, to inquire much about your tenets, which
in truth are doubtful," said Montesa laughing, "if I may believe the
reports of my fair cousin, the abbess of Santa Cruz. Religious
inquiries may be dispensed with, but for form's sake the vows are
indispensable; and when Alvaro returns, we will examine and sign the
diploma sent hither by Don Alfonso."
"The vows; I should be glad to know them. By your cross, I perceive that
you are a knight of the order."
"Every Spanish officer of distinction is," replied Montesa, with a proud
smile. "We are supposed to observe the rules of San Austin, and vow
obedience, conjugal fidelity to our wives--_demonio!_ and service to all
ladies. Things easily sworn to," added he, laughing heartily, "but hard
to keep in Spain. By San Jago! I have broken them a score of times.
Senor, you know that vows and restrictions which suited the steel-clad
knights of Ferdinand of Leon, will scarcely suit the cigar-smoking and
dashing officers of Murillo or Don Carlos D'Espagna's divisions. Our
Lady! we would as soon swear to the vows of the bare-footed Franciscan.
But you will have to make it appear that your ancestors have been, at
least, hidalgos or gentlemen for four generations."
"For sixteen, if you choose, marquess; but I should need the assistance
of some northern bard to unravel the matter. However, my colonel will
resolve that point for you."
"And that in your veins there runs not the base blood of Jew, Morisco,
or heretic; and that you have never been called in question by the late
Inquisition,--the devil confound it!"
"To these I may freely swear No! on blade and bible."
"You see by the diploma," continued Montesa, with a droll smile, "that
knights in their noviciate are obliged to tug an oar in the king's
galleys for six months, to harden them to labour; and then live for six
months more in a Carthusian monastery, fasting and praying, being the
while scantily supplied with black bread, and liberally with water to
wash away their sins and enormities."
"The deuce, marquess! These disagreeable preliminaries will scarcely
suit me; and I fear I must forego the high honour intended me by the
venerable Grand-master."
"Not at all, senor," replied Montesa. "Were these parts of the military
noviciate to be rigorously exacted, how very few of our Spanish
caballeros of Madrid would display their crosses on the gay Prados. By
Santiago! I would see De Conquesta and his order at the bottom of the
Mediterranean, before I would submit to such degradation. Besides,
senor, if twelve months campaigning here will not harden us, nothing on
earth will."
"How then, marquess?"
"A few doubloons paid to the grand-treasurer, at Cadiz, where at present
Don Alfonso resides, will procure you a dispensation from these, and all
will then be right. Ha! here comes Villa Franca. You have made dispatch
with the conde."
"Montesa," said Alvaro, entering, "our trumpets will blow 'boot and
saddle' instantly. The Spanish horse will relieve General Long's
brigade of the out-picquet duty on the Santa Martha road. We move the
moment the sun dips behind the heights of Albuera."
"You will probably see some fighting before dawn."
"True, Senor Stuart; and perhaps a few saddles will be emptied before
the bugles sound the _reveille_," replied Montesa, whose own was doomed
to be one of them. "Ho! there go our trumpeters already. Alvaro, we
had better invest our friend with his cross; dispensing, of course, with
the mummery of monks and godfathers. _Diavolo!_ we ought to have had a
fair lady to clasp on his belt and affix the star. Would we were near
the convent of Jarciejo!"
"The lady must be dispensed with likewise. Hark! the conde already blows
'to horse!' He is somewhat impatient, truly. Lend me your sword,
marquess; I cannot bestow the knighthood with mine, as the cross-guard
was broken off in our late fandango with the enemy. Let us seek the
tent of Don Juan Cameron; and when we have been satisfied on some points
of lineage, amigo mio, amidst the officers of your own brave regiment
you shall become our sworn knight-companion."
"A most unceremonious instalment," said Montesa, "but war and necessity
must be pleaded for our excuse; and the knight that is created in a
tent, is more likely to prove a true cavalier, than he who receives his
spurs in the carpeted palace or decorated chapel."
In Fassifern's tent Stuart was duly dubbed knight of Saint James, having
as such the privilege of wearing his bonnet in presence of the king of
Spain. As soon as the hasty ceremony was over, the Spaniards sprung to
their saddles and departed, leaving Ronald with the cross on his breast
amid a circle of his brother-officers, who, with their congratulations,
threw in sundry dry jokes.
For many months afterwards he was known among them as "the knight of
Santiago," seldom receiving any other name except when on duty. Jokes
must be furnished for mess and parade, and Ronald's cross was a standing
one. He became, however, a greater favourite with the colonel and
regiment. He was esteemed by the officers and beloved by the soldiers,
who would, as they emphatically said, "storm hell's yetts to serve him."
Than British soldiers, none know better how to appreciate the good
qualities of an officer who treats them well, and their love, esteem,
and confidence, which cannot fail being of service to the officer
himself, are easily gained by kindness and affability. Nor was Saint
James's cross the only piece of good fortune that Ronald obtained. He
had returned to his tent, where he sat finishing his letter for
Lochisla, and regretting bitterly that he was unable to send another for
Inchavon, when Alister came in with a newspaper in each hand.
"I congratulate you, Sir knight of Santiago de Compostella; the saints
are propitious to you certainly, or the Horse Guards at least. Lisle
has sent me these papers up from the castle of Belem, from which place
he was just about to set out on his return with a detachment of
convalescents. Look you here."
"What! any more orders of knighthood?"
"Something more substantial. 'War-office, 24th--no, 28th foot, Lieut.
Dalbiac to be captain, _vice_ Paget, killed in action. Ensign Stuart,
from the 92nd Highlanders, to be lieutenant, _vice_ Dalbiac."
"Ha! is it really possible?" exclaimed Ronald, springing up.
"Quite, and a most lucky dog you are. You may thank Almarez and Sir
Rowland Hill for this. He recommended you for promotion, you know."
"The 28th is an English regiment--"
"The gallant slashers."
"I should be sorry to leave the Highlanders,--one of our most dashing
national regiments."
"Your taste appears to be consulted admirably. Look at this _Gazette_ in
the next paper. '92nd Highlanders.--Brevet-major Colin Campbell to be
major, _vice_ Macdonald, appointed to the 8th Garrison Battalion; Lieut.
Macdonald to be captain, _vice_ Campbell; Lieut. Ronald Stuart, from the
28th foot, to be lieutenant, _vice_ the Honourable Sholto Douglas, who
exchanges."
"Excellent!" exclaimed Stuart, as they shook hands. "I shall be with
you still: Cameron has planned this matter, surely. But this Honourable
Sholto,--I have never had the pleasure of seeing him."
"Oh! he has been on the staff in Ireland for these three years past. A
drawing-room soldier, that has no idea of bivouacks and tough ration
beef,--fording rivers up to the neck, and having forced marches of forty
miles. Sholto has kept himself clear of these matters, and is
consequently no favourite with the chief--Cameron, I mean; the warning
he gave me about that title at San Pedro must not be forgotten. I wish
you joy heartily, Ronald, notwithstanding you are promoted over my head.
However, I am near the top of the ensigns, and the next engagement may
provide for some of the seniors. We must wet the new commission
to-night in glorious style; and, hark! firing, by Jove! The
out-picquets are engaged! Soult is at it again." Drawing back the door
of the tent, they saw the flashes of musquetry and gleam of steel appear
on the Santa Martha road, and wreaths of white smoke curling up among
the rocks and broken ground between showing that a running skirmish had
commenced. The noise of the firing became more rapid and loud, and then
died away; and the Spanish cavalry were seen sword in hand, pursuing the
French at full gallop. The Conde Penne Villamur had repelled the attack
of the French cuirassiers, and having defeated them, rashly left his
ground in pursuit along the road to Santa Martha; where, falling into an
ambush of several squadrons of horse, his Spaniards were almost all cut
to pieces. Don Alvaro, at the head of his lancers, charged madly through
and through them, and brought off the conde, after a most desperate and
bloody conflict fought hand to hand with sword and spear, amid which the
gay and brave young Marquess of Montesa was slain, being "cloven to the
teeth, through steel and bone," by Louis Chateaufleur, a major of
cuirassiers, mentioned by De Mesmai in preceding chapters. Alvaro was
so severely wounded by a sword-thrust between the joints of his breast
and back-plate, that he was rendered unserviceable for some time; and
procuring leave, departed for Idanha-a-Velha, where Donna Inesella still
resided.
*CHAPTER XI.*
*THE MARCH TO TOLEDO.*
"O, leeze me on the philabeg,
The hairy knee and gartered leg!
But aye the thing that glads my e'e,
Is the _white cockade_ aboon the bree."
_Jacobite Song._
Sir Rowland Hill, finding that the French marshal lacked determination
to attack his strong position at Albuera, resolved to assail his legions
in their quarters at Santa Martha, for which place the whole division
marched on the morning of the 1st July. The enemy retired as usual
before him, their rear-guard skirmishing with the cavalry advance of the
British, who suffered some loss at forcing the passage of the Guadacia,
upon the ford of which the French brought their flying-artillery to
bear; and against Berlenza some fighting ensued, and Ronald Stuart
narrowly escaped being cut in two by an eighteen-pound shot from the
enemy's guns. Many weeks were consumed in tedious marching and
skirmishing, in which there was neither glory nor gain to be acquired;
and right glad were the second division when the route for the gay city
of Aranjuez, the Windsor of Spain, reached them while stationed at the
dull and uninteresting town of Don Benito.
At Llerena, a town romantically situated at the base of the huge Sierra
San Bernardo, they received intelligence of the glorious victory won by
Lord Wellington's army over that of Marshal Marmont on the field of
Salamanca; and learned that Joseph, the _ci-devant_ king of Spain, had
been driven from his usurped throne, and compelled to establish his
head-quarters in the city of Valencia.
A Spanish peasant, who had witnessed the battle, brought the tidings to
Llerena, which was illuminated in consequence; and a huge bonfire,
lighted by the 36th regiment, blazed from the summit of San Bernardo.