CHAPTER XXII.
PEREZ, THE POTTER; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT.
"When Massena retired before the impetuous advance of Lord Wellington, and left behind the boasted lines of Torres Vedras, you may remember that he selected the position of Santarem as one admirably adapted to keep in check the advance of your troops through the Portuguese frontier. While his division occupied their trenches on the hill above the Tagus, I was one day despatched on duty to the officer commanding the Cuirassier Brigade at Torres Novas, a town five leagues from Santarem, situated in the middle of a beautiful plain. It is surrounded by walls, and is overlooked by the castle with the nine towers, from which it takes its name.
"I rode without an orderly, or other followers, for the whole country was covered with our troops, and I had no dread of molestation, though desired by Marshal Massena to take with me a section of dragoons, as part of the country through which I had to pass was rendered very unsafe by the residence and outrages of a certain Don Julian d'Aviero, a half-mad student of Alcala, who had gathered a band of deserter guerillas, and become a captain of robbers in the woods of Santarem. There his name had become terrible through all the Spanish and Portuguese Estremaduras, Alentejo and Beira. His midnight expeditions and attacks upon the detached houses and solitary quintas of friend and foe were characterised by singular and wanton cruelty; and in a state of warfare, where the country was possessed by two hostile armies, the pretexts of treason and espionage were never wanting.
"A wild yell informed the inmates that their dwelling was surrounded by the banditti of Don Julian; the doors were dashed in; the men, half-starting from their beds, were hewn to pieces; their wives and daughters were dragged away to suffer worse than death; the houses were pillaged, and then reduced to ashes. And many of these atrocities were doubtless attributed by us to you, and by you to us. Captives were carried off daily, but they were generally ransomed; if not, a shot from a carbine, or a stab from a poniard, and all was over!
"I thought of all these things as I pursued my solitary way by the foot of the mountains that skirt the plain of Torres Novas; but it was with less of alarm than pleasure. To me there seemed something charming in the lonely and knight-errant-like fashion in which I had thus ridden forth, in a strange country, among dangerous ways, and an unscrupulous people, with neither friend nor ally save my sabre and horse.
"The sun was verging towards the darkening mountains of Alentejo; but the atmosphere was still exceedingly close and sultry, for, hot and bright, the rays of the western sun were poured from a clear and cloudless sky, scorching with their warmth the waving corn, and the myriads of wild flowers that covered the beautiful plain of Torres Novas.
"I was still far from the lines of Massena: the country seemed desolate and depopulated. I had no guide, and became apprehensive of losing my way, and wandering towards the British outposts. Once or twice I questioned a passing peasant, but was provoked by their sullenness and ignorance of their own locality.
"'Señor,' said I, to a paisano, whom I met driving two mules harnessed in a rude cart, which was simply composed of the rough stem of a tree, from which two branches in the form of a fork rested, one on each wheel, and formed the axle—'Señor, how many leagues is it from this place to Santarem?'
"'Three, señor Caballero,' replied the man, holding up three fingers.