True, they had managed to destroy Uriel, but this, though possibly unfortunate for Uriel, might nevertheless be viewed in the light of a blessing, for by his death the British had been encouraged to stand, and had thus given themselves into his hands; also, Uriel was one of the Michael faction, and worthless, as were all that gang.
If only Michael too could be beaten—he was having a hard time out there to the west, he knew—well, perhaps if fortune were kind, he would be, and the Emperor no longer be blinded to his own superior merits. But then a message had been received from that same Michael, telling not of defeat, but success, and his hopes of being in time to aid Gabriel in his battle; at this, Gabriel had thrown all remnants of prudence to the winds. Scorning reserves, he launched his whole force to the attack, shouting to his generals to rush their men on, and not to mind the losses, assuring them that before them lay a beaten army, to crush which they had only to press on.
Gabriel having, despite the one fatal flaw in his nature, the soul of a great leader, the spirit that possessed him was felt in the hearts of his followers, and forward they rushed, ignoring distance and interval, for these meant delay, and delay was not now to be thought of. Into the brook's swollen waters plunged the leading lines, their weapons held aloft as they struggled through the torrent, and then, shaking themselves like dogs, they hurried on to the smoking ridge ahead.
Fifteen hundred, one thousand yards only lay between, and with the lessening of the distance the thunder from behind slackened, and then, but for the tramp of feet, all was silent.
Then suddenly from among the trees a whistle blew, its shrill piping echoed by others, and at the sound that battered shot-torn hill awoke to life.
From crumbling trench and lead-splashed stones a line of thin brown tubes rose up, wavered for a moment distractedly, and then together came down, and row upon row of tiny, steel-ringed eyes peered inquiringly on the green waves rolling towards them.
A second time the whistle was blown, which was again taken up to right and left; and then the heavy silence was broken by the scream of cordite and the stammering voice of maxims.
The leading ranks of the enemy went down, some falling forward on their faces with a groan—this was death—others reeling sideways to the ground, where they lay writhing and shrieking in the torture of splintered bone or bullet-ripped vitals.
Those checked in rear flung themselves down, their hands tugging at buckled cartridge-belts, but in a second their officers were on them, kicking them up and driving them on with shouts and curses, and once more the lines surged slowly forward, men dropping in hundreds as they came.
"Two messages from General Roy, sir," shouted a voice in Hector's ear; "they came within a few minutes of each other, sir." The speaker's voice was strained and his face white.