Once A Soldier Part 22

She chuckled as she climbed the hill by his side. She wore her split riding skirt, st.u.r.dy boots, a loose jacket with many pockets, and her gleaming carbine. At her waist was a sheathed knife and slung over her shoulder was a canvas bag of supplies that probably included bandages and other useful things. He might worry about Athena's safety, but she was certainly ready.

"How far apart will we be stationed?" she asked.

"Every twenty feet or so. The grenadiers are distributed fairly evenly along the lines."

"Twenty feet from you," she murmured wickedly. "Too far."

"Behave yourself, wench," he ordered. "We have a battle to fight!"

"After that speech you gave, I feel invincible," she said.

Will wished that he were equally confident.

Hours pa.s.sed with nothing much happening, so Athena moved fifteen feet to her right so that she was within easy talking distance of Will, though regrettably out of touching distance. "I've just learned something truly terrible about going to war," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. "It's really boring."

There was enough moonlight to show Will's grin. "Long periods of boredom and discomfort punctuated by brief bursts of noise and terror. The soldier's life."

"I'm realizing that when I've faced danger before, it happened swiftly and I had to react. I'm not so good at waiting."

"Go back to your position and roll up in your blanket and get some sleep," Will suggested. "We're not likely to see much happen for a few hours yet."

"I don't know if I can sleep, but I'll try to rest." Her voice became even softer. "I wish I could curl up next to you, but I expect that would be counter to good discipline."

"Especially mine." He made a shooing motion with his hand. "But at least we both have excellent motivation to survive."

Chuckling, she returned to her position. Oddly, despite the discomfort of sleeping on the ground and the threat of danger, she dozed off. She felt safe with Will near....

In a silent night broken only by the rustling of a breeze in the bushes and the sounds of night creatures, hasty hoofbeats sounded very clearly. As Will skidded down the embankment, he sensed his fellow soldiers coming alert.

When the mule approached, he recognized the small form of Joaquim. He waved the boy down, asking, "What news, Scout Cavaco?"

Joaquim pulled up the mule, both of them panting for breath. "The French are not far behind! Maybe half an hour, no more. I was delayed because they blocked my route and I had to go around." The boy pulled off his hat and wiped his face tiredly.

"Do you have an idea of the numbers?"

"My guess is closer to six hundred than five hundred, but I'm not sure. Many. They march in a column, keeping good order, a few supply wagons behind, but most of their supplies on their backs or on mules."

"Do they look alert and ready for battle?"

"They look . . . hungry," the boy said slowly. "Desperate, even."

So they would go into battle as motivated as the Gabrilenos. Not good. But with luck, they'd be worn out by the long march and not expecting attack here and now. "Anything else you can think of that might be useful to know?"

Even in the dim light, Joaquim's snarl could be seen. "Their general, Baudin, rides at the head with several of his officers on fine horses."

"Probably he stole them from Napoleon's stable," Will said easily. "Continue on to the castle and give the news to Princess Sofia. After you get some rest, you can join the castle guards."

"I'll get to meet the princess?" Joaquim said, brightening.

"Yes, and she'll be well pleased with your work."

As Joaquim proceeded along the road at a slower pace, Will climbed the embankment on the other side and pa.s.sed on the news to Ramos, the army veteran stationed opposite him.

"Time to move everyone into position. I'm thinking that if we can take out Baudin, it might break the nerve of his men," Will said. "You and I both hold grenades. After I fire the first shot and the fusillade begins, shall we aim our grenades at Baudin?"

Ramos's teeth flashed white in the darkness. "With pleasure. May the Blessed Mother grant me the honor of being the one to blow him to h.e.l.l."

"You'll have compet.i.tion for that," Will said with a friendly clap on the shoulder. "And now, battle stations!"

The next minutes were a blaze of activity as the sergeants got their men into position. When Will pa.s.sed Athena, he said softly, "Hold steady, little owl. And aim for the officers leading the column on horseback. One of them should be Baudin."

"Worth a try. The man is evil." Athena swallowed hard. "Go with G.o.d, Will."

He touched her cheek, then moved on down the line. The veterans did a good job positioning the militiamen. While there was anxiety and a few had lost their suppers, no one had deserted. They appreciated Will's comments and jokes.

When he reached Gilberto, Will said, "Years from now, old men will be telling their grandsons that they were here this day, defending San Gabriel."

Gilberto snorted. "Remembering the glory and forgetting the blood!"

"Glory grows in proportion to how long ago the battle took place. Go with G.o.d, Captain." Will shook Gilberto's hand, then turned and trotted back to his own position.

Then, they waited.

Chapter 32.

As the first faint light appeared along the eastern horizon, the distant sounds of marching men could be heard. Heavy feet, the clink of harnesses, the occasional barked order of a sergeant. The noise intensified when the column entered the sunken road and was contained between the embankments.

The back of Will's neck tingled with nerves and antic.i.p.ation. To his left, Athena was a dark, quiet form as she waited, carbine ready. He imagined that the inexperienced militiamen were ready to jump out of their skins with the French marching just feet below them, but they held their fire. The light had increased enough to see men and horses as individual shapes, though details were still unclear.

The half-dozen mounted officers in the lead came level with Will. He took careful aim at the first rider, hoping it was Baudin, and fired. As the crack of his carbine echoed from the stony hills, his bullet struck his target.

Before the man hit the ground, the first rank of Gabrilenos fired. Cacophony, a screaming horse, sergeants shouting orders to their men.

Second rank fired. Third rank fired. The first again. The volleys became more ragged as reloading time varied, but the bullets were taking effect and the French troops were breaking from their regular marching formation.

The sunken road filled with clouds of stinging smoke and Will saw that dozens of French soldiers had fallen. Others had dropped into firing position and were returning fire whenever they caught a glimpse of a defender, but they were at a great disadvantage.

Will lit the first of his grenades and hurled it among the leading hors.e.m.e.n, then ducked. The grenade exploded and shrapnel flew in all directions. Furious curses split the air from the French soldiers.

Athena had flattened herself on the edge of the embankment and coolly fired down at her targets. What a woman! Will thought.

The chaos of battle roared around Will as he fired, reloaded, fired again, all while keeping mental track of how many volleys of bullets he heard, how his militia was holding, how well the French were starting to fight back.

So far the Gabrilenos were performing admirably, but the longer the battle continued, the more the advantage would shift to the seasoned French troops. Already some were starting to scramble up the embankments, cursing and shouting death threats. Most were shot, bayoneted, or clubbed as they crested the banks, but they had numbers on their side and more and more of them were scrambling upward.

His heart almost stopped when he saw that one d.a.m.nable soldier was clawing his way up the bank toward Athena. She was reloading, so Will clamped down his fear and shot the man in the chest. As the soldier tumbled backward, Will lit his second grenade and hurled it into the turmoil on the road. The riders in the lead had spread out so one blast wouldn't catch them all, but there was no shortage of targets.

More grenades were exploding along the road, yet in the face of raking gunfire and cacophony, bellowing French officers and sergeants were beginning to successfully rally their troops. Will realized that the battle had reached a critical point. If the fighting didn't end very soon, the Gabrilenos would be overwhelmed and the French would have a clear path to invade the valley.

His jaw tightened as his well honed battle instincts recognized the best and only hope for ending this quickly. Cut off the head and the snake dies.

If Will could take Baudin down, this battle would be over. Baudin was the inspiration and charismatic leader who had persuaded these men to cross the whole of Spain to conquer a small, weak nation. His men hadn't expected this stiff, b.l.o.o.d.y resistance. Without their general, the invasion force would collapse into a demoralized mob. In the face of continuing Gabrileno fire, the surviving French troops would withdraw and likely look for easier prey, or even return home to lay down their arms.

The light had increased, so Will narrowed his eyes and studied the men on horseback who had led the column. The fighting had drawn them back along the road, but they were still within shooting range. Yes, that broad man who was shouting orders at the top of his lungs was surely Baudin.

Will took careful aim and fired, but Baudin was in constant motion. The number of other men and horses thrashing about around the general made it impossible to get a clear shot. Will's bullet wounded one of the general's aides, leaving Baudin unscathed.

Will reloaded swiftly but his second shot also went amiss. He swore under his breath, recognizing that Baudin had the warrior luck that seemed to make many battle leaders immune to bullets. Such luck had kept Wellington alive throughout his career, not to mention Will himself. A d.a.m.ned shame that Baudin had it, too. Maybe those without the luck died young.

But no man was immune to a bullet at close range. If Will couldn't take the devil down from up here, he must descend to Baudin's level.

Knowing he was signing his death warrant, he leaped over the edge of the embankment and skidded down the rough slope in a cloud of dust and pebbles, his carbine in hand and his pistol holstered at his side. As soon as his feet hit the road, he sprinted toward the mounted officers. Bullets whistled by, but missed. His own battlefield luck was holding. He halted a dozen feet from Baudin. The insignia of the general's rank was now clearly visible.

Ignoring the churning horses and men around him, Will raised his carbine and aimed. At the last moment, Baudin saw him and jerked his reins back, causing his mount to rear up. Will's bullet struck the beast instead of the man.

The thrashing horse went down hard, but Baudin skillfully freed himself from the saddle and rolled to his feet. The sky was bright enough now to see faces, and for an instant Baudin stared at Will. In the midst of chaos, the two men might have been alone.

"You!" the Frenchman snarled. "Surely, you are that great hulking English spy, one of the ones who escaped my execution in Gaia!"

So Baudin was the officer who had condemned five men out of hand. Somehow it wasn't a surprise. "Not a spy," Will said in cool, sharp-edged French as he yanked his pistol from its holster. "A soldier."

He held the pistol in both hands so he wouldn't miss, but as he fired, Baudin drew his sword and lunged forward, the sweep of his blade knocking the pistol from Will's grip and sending the bullet awry.

Will had chosen to lay down his life to end this battle, and he d.a.m.ned well wasn't going to fail! With a fatalistic feeling of rightness, he drew his last weapon, the Royal Sword of San Gabriel, and balanced himself to react to the general's attack. He must end this now, before Baudin's aides had time to shoot him in the back.

Sword fights in the midst of battle were quick, dirty, and deadly. Will's weapon was light and sure in his grasp, but Baudin's was longer and heavier. The Frenchman took advantage of that as he tested Will's skill with a flurry of swift thrusts and parries, filling the air with the shriek of metal sc.r.a.ping metal.

Will responded clumsily, taking advantage of the fact that French officers prided themselves on being better swordsmen than their British counterparts. Baudin clearly believed that, for when Will feinted a stumble on the rough road, the general moved in recklessly for the kill.

Will stepped to one side and stabbed his Damascus steel blade through the French general's brutal heart. Baudin's pale eyes widened with shock before he collapsed in his own blood, the weight of his body pulling free of the blade that had killed him. Their struggle, from Will's first shot to this end, had lasted only a handful of moments.

He'd known that taking the fight to the enemy would be a one-way trip, and now he paid the price for his audacity. The first ball crashed into Will's shoulder, the second into his leg.

As the next shot pitched Will into darkness, he prayed that now the battle and the invasion were over.

Athena watched in horror as Will vaulted from his safe spot on the embankment and charged into the middle of the fray. Time seemed to stretch as he shot, brought down Baudin's horse, then crossed swords with the general. Her heart almost stopped when Will stumbled. Then Will struck, killing Baudin, and she realized that his stumble had been deliberate and lethally effective.

Even before she could scream, "Run!" Baudin's aides were aiming their weapons and shooting at their leader's a.s.sa.s.sin. Will went down only a yard from the general, his bloodstained sword still in his hand.

Faces twisted with rage, three of the general's aides were busily reloading so they could ensure that Will was dead. Athena aimed with bitter efficiency and took one down. While she reloaded, Ramos, the veteran on the opposite side of the road, shot another. Athena aimed her carbine again and fired at the third.

The last of the general's avenging aides fell from his mount and lay motionless. As his horse galloped off, Athena slung her canvas bag around her shoulder and scrambled down the embankment, shouting in French, "Baudin is dead! Your leader, your general, is dead! Retreat before you die beside him!"

Her cry was picked up by other voices and news of the general's death blazed along the sunken road. As Athena dropped beside Will, she heard a French bugle sound the call for retreat and the soldiers in blue began scrambling back toward Spain.

Ignoring the risk of Frenchmen who might still be inclined to fight, Athena began to examine Will's wounds. He was bleeding in multiple places, but still he breathed.

She'd packed her bag with clean rags and folded bandages, as well as two sizable canteens, one filled with water and the other with strong, cheap brandy for cleaning wounds. As she used a rag to blot blood from the graze on Will's head, his eyes opened and he asked in a barely audible voice, "It's over?"

"Yes, the retreat has sounded and I can no longer see French soldiers along the road," she said unsteadily. "They're heading back to Spain."

"Good." He managed a smile. "It's been a fine thing to know you, little owl." As his eyes closed again, he said so faintly that she could hardly hear the words, "I love you, you know."

"We can discuss the issue when you're better." As she fought to control the bleeding, Athena told herself, over and over, that while Will lived, there was hope. He wasn't going to die; she wouldn't let him die.

She wasn't sure how much time pa.s.sed before Tom Murphy knelt on Will's other side. He was dusty and there was a smear of blood on his cheek, but it didn't seem to be his. "The French are flying the h.e.l.l back into Spain and our casualties are fairly light. How is Major Masterson?"

"Alive, barely," she said in a choked voice. "Find a French wagon to take Will and other seriously wounded men back to the castle."

"One is on the way," he said tersely. "I'll go speed it up."

Not looking up, she nodded and used the knife she had sheathed at her waist to cut fabric away from the wound on Will's thigh. The bullet didn't seem to have shattered the bone, thank G.o.d.

She continued working until a wagon pulled up beside her. The last bandage had been tied off and Will was still breathing. She looked up to see a Gabrileno driving the wagon and Tom approaching with a litter and several other men behind him. "We'll take him now, Lady Athena," Tom said quietly.

She stood and might have fallen if Tom hadn't put out a hand to steady her. "His condition is . . . very grave," she whispered.

"The major is the strongest man I know," Tom said fiercely, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as Athena. "He'll survive this! We'll get him down to the castle and into the hands of the surgeon as soon as possible."

He and the other men carefully transferred Will's considerable weight onto the litter, then carried him around to the back of the wagon. Athena followed and saw that the wagon was full of wounded, except for the s.p.a.ce left for Will.

After the litter bearers transferred him into the wagon, Tom turned to Athena, his expression set. "I know you want to go with him, but there are other men here who need your help." His mouth twisted and he no longer looked young. "Cleaning up after a battle generally takes longer than the actual fighting."

She bit her lip. "I'm no surgeon."

"You're better at treating wounds in the field than anyone else available," Tom said flatly. "The sooner injuries are treated, the better the chances of survival."

Athena wanted to say to h.e.l.l with everyone else, she needed to be with Will. But she'd done her best for him, and now there were other men, sons and husbands and fathers, who were also in need. She knew many of them. With a sigh, she yielded. "Very well, I'll do what I can."

Tom smiled and touched her shoulder. "Thank you. If I ever have a daughter, I'm going to name her Athena."

"She won't thank you for that," Athena said dryly. "Now where are these men who need treatment?"

As Tom escorted her back along the road, she gave thanks that the battle for San Gabriel was won. But what mattered most to her was the battle for Will Masterson's life.