With much difficulty, Stuart gained the extremity of the ridge, and the whole soul-stirring display of the field of Vittoria burst at once upon his gaze, extending over a space of ground fully six miles in length. Truly, thicker than leaves in autumn, the bodies of men were strewed along the whole length of the hostile armies. The warm light of the setting sun was beaming on the mountain tops, but its lustre had long since faded on the sylvan vale of the Zadorra, where the shadows of evening were setting on the pale faces of the dead and the dying. The plains of Vittoria, too, were growing dark, but at the first view Ronald was enabled to perceive, and his heart beat proudly while he did so, that the allies had conquered, and the boastful story of the Gaul was false.
Afar off he beheld dense clouds of dust rolling along the roads which led to Pampeluna and Bayonne. There the glistening arms were flashing in the light of the western sky, as the brigades of British cavalry swept on like whirlwinds, charging and driving before them, sabre à la main, the confused masses of French infantry, who, when their position was abandoned, retired hurriedly towards the main roads for France. He saw his own division far down the plain, driving a column like a herd of sheep along the banks of the river towards Vittoria; beyond which they pursued them, until the smoke of the conflict and the dust which marked its route were hidden by the cloud of night.
But long before this he had begun to descend the hills, and weak and wearied as he was, he found it no easy task to scramble among the furze, briars, and brambles with which their sides were covered. At the foot of them he found many men of his own regiment lying dead. These had been slain by the fire of a few field-pieces, which the French had brought to bear upon them while moving towards Puebla. The moon broke forth when he reached the banks of the Zadorra, which he forded, the water rising up to his waist. This drenching added greatly to his misery, as the night was cold and chilly; but he walked onward as rapidly as he could, with the hope of reaching Subijana de Alava, Vittoria, or any place where he might hope to get his wound dressed, after which he trusted that he should be able to rejoin the regiment without delay. But losing his way, he wandered across the field, where the bodies of men and horses, dead or yet rolling about, broken waggons, dismounted or abandoned cannon, encumbered him at every step.
No shrieks now saluted his ears as he passed over the plain; but groans—deep and harrowing groans of agony, and half-muttered cries for water or pious ejaculations were heard on every side, while the ghastly and distorted faces, the glazed and upturned eyes, the black and bloody wounds of the dead appeared horrible, as the pale light of the moon fell on them. The vast field, although so many thousand men lay prostrate upon it, was, comparatively speaking, still; and to Ronald there seemed something sad and awful in the silence which succeeded the ear-deafening roar of the battle which had rung there the live-long day. Many a strong hand was stretched there powerless, and many a gallant heart, which had beat high with hope and bravery in the morning, lay there cold enough at night.
Little think the good folk at home,—those who for days would be haunted by the memory of some sudden death, which possibly they had witnessed in the streets,—little do these good people imagine, or perhaps care, for the mighty amount of misery accumulated on a single battle-field, and the woe it may carry into many a happy home and domestic circle. But the agony of dying men, and the tears of women, are alike forgotten and unheeded when forts fire, cities illuminate, balls are given, and mails sweep along, decorated with flags and laurels, in honour of a victory......
Eager to leave the field behind him, Stuart hurried forward as well as he was able, until, stumbling over a dead cavalry horse, he fell violently to the earth, and his wound bursting out afresh, the light faded from his eyes, and he lay in a sort of stupor across the corse of a French soldier, in whose breast a twelve-pound shot was buried. While lying there he became tortured with an intense thirst, which he found it impossible to alleviate, until a drizzling rain began to descend, and after exercising his patience, he caught enough in the hollow of his hand to moisten his parched lips.
The sound of voices close by recalled him to himself fully, and he found that he was in imminent danger. A file of Portuguese soldiers approached, bearing a lantern to assist them in effectually plundering the dead. The knapsacks of soldiers were ripped open, and the contents carefully scanned; and the epaulets, lace, stars, &c. were torn away from the uniforms of the officers. Stuart's blood boiled up within him to behold brother-soldiers, men in arms, engaged in an occupation so truly despicable; but well aware of the danger incurred by encountering or threatening people so unscrupulous as death-hunters[*] he only grasped the hilt of his dirk, and lay perfectly still until they had passed by, which they luckily did without observing him.
[*] Death-hunters,—a name given by soldiers to those who follow armies to strip the dead after a battle.
Scarcely were they gone when another wretch appeared, bent on the same disgraceful errand. He was either a robber or guerilla, and carried on the hollow of his left arm a musquet, from which dangled a long leather sling. A pewter crucifix glittered on the band of his broad-leaved hat, and the polished brass hilts of the double daggers and pistols in his sash gleamed in the light of the moon, which at that moment shone forth with peculiar brilliancy. A new pair of large epaulets, which Stuart had put on a few days before, attracted this worthy's attention, and he came straight towards the wearer to possess himself of them.
What were the feelings of the young Highlander to behold in the robber the abhorred Narvaez Cifuentes, the destroyer of the noble and beautiful Catalina! An electric shock seemed to pass over every fibre, and again his heart beat violently. He grasped tighter the thistle-hilt of his short weapon, and watched with an eagle eye the motions of the robber. Narvaez knew him the moment their eyes met, and uttering a short but emphatic oath, he sprung forward and leaped upon Ronald with his whole weight, and pressing a knee upon each arm, perfectly incapacitated him from making any defence, especially in his weak and wounded state.