“Juliet. O, for a falconer’s voice.
To lure this tassel-gentle back again!”
Romeo and Juliet.
The absolute authority exercised by the Partida leaders over the Spanish population, was apparent in the readiness with which their orders were obeyed—and of this, the independent style in which we had lived at free quarters for the last week, would have been a sufficient guarantee. Not contented with the demolition of his supper and the occupation of the state apartments, we found that “mine host” had been laid under farther requisitions, and obliged to remount the Frenchman and Mark Antony, whose horses were sent back by two villagers to the mountains.’ To a casual inquiry that I made touching the safe delivery of the animals, the guerilla, who accompanied us, replied with a stare expressive of surprise that a doubt should be entertained upon the subject; and then pointing significantly to his neck, he led us to clearly understand, that nothing insures punctuality and despatch like an occasional application of the halter.
In the course of an hour’s ride we fell in with the party we expected, and our guide delivered us over to their safe keeping, That night we were entertained at the expense of an alcade, who loaded us with civilities, and would listen to no hint of ours touching remuneration in the morning. The extent of his hospitality, and the anxiety he evinced to anticipate our wants, drew forth from me a flattering eulogium. As I proceeded, the guerilla leader merely shrugged his shoulders—-and then privately assured me, that this generous functionary was one of the greatest scoundrels in the province, and that he was more than suspected of intriguing with the French. “He fancies that he blinds us—no matter—we know him well—all I shall say, my friend, is—that for the horse you ride, I would not have my neck in the same insecurity.”
As he spoke, we gained the crest of a hill which commanded an extensive view of the flatter country that lay beneath, and from a small wood, at a league’s distance in our front, we perceived the smoke of a large fire curling upwards. The partida pointed to the spot, and told us that there a picket of light German cwalry was bivouaced, and therefore, that his escort was no longer necessary—then bade us a friendly farewell—and in half an hour the fosterer and I found ourselves once more within the allied outposts.
On announcing myself to the officer in command as the bearer of a private despatch for Lord Wellington, I was furnished with a fresh horse and the escort of a couple of dragoons—and leaving the Empecinado’s present to the care of the fosterer, I immediately rode off to reach head-quarters at Frenada.
As I passed through the different cantonments, I fancied a general activity prevailed among the soldiers, which formed a striking contrast to the quiet and repose in which, a week before, I had left the allied camp. On the roads I had frequently encountered convoys moving in various directions, and the commissariat department seemed to be particularly on the alert. With an Irish officer, who was riding in the same direction, I entered into conversation for a few minutes, while I and my escort breathed our horses over a rough road that rendered a quicker movement dangerous; and from him I ascertained that the allied army was in perfect readiness, and it was the general opinion that “Lord Wellington had mischief in his head!” As he spoke, wheeling round a bending of the road, we came suddenly in sight of another that crossed it at right angles; and at a quarter of a mile’s distance, observed a staff-officer, followed by an orderly dragoon, riding towards the point of junction at a pace which led me to infer that, like myself, he was the bearer of despatches. “Talk of the devil,” exclaimed my loving countryman—“may the Lord forgive me for saying so!—but that’s himself!” The hint was quite sufficient—I spurred my horse, cantered safely over as rugged a causeway as man could meet with—reached the cross-roads—and halted at the point of junction, before the allied commander gained it.
On perceiving me pull up, Lord Wellington reined his horse in, and a brief colloquy ensued.
“Your name?”