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news reached Wellington that General Chauvel, with 2000 cavalry, and

20 guns, would reach Marmont on the evening of the 22d, or the morning

of the 23d, and the English general therefore resolved to retreat,

unless Marmont should, by some mistake, give him a chance of fighting

to advantage.

Close to the British right, and the French left, were two steep and

rugged hills, called the Hermanitos, or Brothers, and soon after

daybreak on the 22d, the French seized upon the one nearest to them,

while the British took possession of the other. Then, watching each

other, the two armies remained until noon, for Wellington could not

commence his retreat by daylight; but a long cloud of dust along the

road to Ciudad Rodrigo showed that the baggage of the army was already

_en route_ for Portugal. Marmont now determined to make a bold stroke

to cut off Wellington's retreat, and, although all his troops had not

yet arrived, he ordered Maucune, with two divisions, to march round by

the left and menace the Ciudad road. It was at three o'clock in the

afternoon, and Wellington, who had been up all night, thinking that

Marmont would make no move that day, had gone to lie down for an hour

or two, when Tom Scudamore who, from an elevated point, was watching

the movements of the enemy, hurried in with the news that the French

were pushing their left round towards the Ciudad Road.

Wellington leaped to his feet, and hurried to the high ground, where

he beheld, with stern satisfaction, that Marmont, in his eagerness

to prevent the British escape, had committed the flagrant error of

detaching his wing from his main body. Instantly he issued orders

for an attack, and the great mass of men upon the British Hermanito

moved down upon the plain to attack Maucune in flank, while the third

division was ordered to throw itself across his line of march, and to

attack him in front. As the advance across the plain would be taken in

flank by the fire from the French Hermanito, General Pack was ordered

to assail that position directly the British line had passed it.

Marmont, standing on the French Hermanito, was thunder-struck at

beholding the plain suddenly covered with enemies, and a tremendous

fire was at once opened upon the advancing British. Officer after

officer was despatched to hurry up the French troops still upon the

march, and when Marmont saw the third division dash across Maucune's

path, he was upon the point of hurrying himself to the spot, when a

shell burst close to him, and he was dashed to the earth with a broken

arm, and two deep wounds in his side.

Thus, at the critical point of the battle, the French army was left

without a head.

It was just five o'clock when Pakenham, with the third division, fell

like a thunderbolt upon the head of Maucune's troops. These, taken by

surprise by this attack, on the part of an enemy whom they had thought

to see in full flight, yet fought gallantly, and strove to gain time

to open out into order of battle. Bearing onwards, however, with

irresistible force, the third division broke the head of the column,

and drove it back upon its supports. Meanwhile, the battle raged all

along the line; in the plain the fourth division carried the village

of Arapiles, and drove back Bonnet's division with the bayonet, and

the fifth division attacked Maucune's command in flank, while Pakenham

was destroying its front.

Marmont was succeeded in his command by Bonnet, who was also wounded,

and Clausel, an able general, took the command. He reinforced Maucune

with his own divisions, which had just arrived, and, for a while,

restored the battle. Then, past the right and left of Pakenham's

division, the British cavalry, under Le Marchant, Anson, and D'Urban,

burst through the smoke and dust, rode down twelve hundred of the

French infantry, and then dashed on at the line behind. Nobly the

charge was pressed, the third division following at a run, and the

charge ceased not until the French left was entirely broken and five

guns, and two thousand prisoners taken.

But forty minutes had passed since the first gun was fired, and the

French defeat was already all but irretrievable, and the third,

fourth, and fifth divisions now in line, swept forward as to assured

victory. Clausel, however, proved equal to the emergency. He

reinforced Bonnet's division with that of Fereij, as yet fresh and

unbroken, and, at the same moment, Sarrut's and Brennier's divisions

issued from the forest, and formed in the line of battle. Behind them

the broken troops of Maucune's two divisions re-formed, and the battle

was renewed with terrible force.

Pack, at the same moment, attempted unsuccessfully to carry the French

Hermanito by assault with his Portuguese division, and the fate of the

battle was again in the balance; the British divisions outnumbered,

and outflanked, began to fall back, Generals Cole, Leith, and Spry,

were all wounded, and the French cavalry threatened the flank of the

line. Wellington, however, had still plenty of reserves in hand, and

at this critical moment he launched them at the enemy. The sixth

division was brought up from the second line, and hurled at the center

of the enemy in a fierce and prolonged charge, while the light and

first divisions were directed against the French divisions which were

descending from the French Hermanito, and against that of Foy, while

the seventh division and the Spaniards were brought up behind the

first line. Against so tremendous an assault as this the French could

make no stand, and were pushed back in ever increasing disorder to the

edge of the forest, where Foy's and Maucune's divisions stood at bay,

and covered their retreat in the fast gathering darkness.

Wellington believed that he should capture a great portion of the

beaten army, for he relied upon the Castle of Alba de Formes,

commanding the ford at that place, being held by the Spaniards, but

these had evacuated the place on the preceding day, and had not even

informed Wellington that they had done so.

Thus, hidden by the night, the French retreated with but slight loss

from the pursuing columns. In the battle the French had forty-two

thousand men and seventy-four guns; the Allies forty-six thousand and

sixty guns, but of the infantry a division were composed of Spaniards,

and these could not be relied upon in any way. It was probably the

most rapidly fought action ever known, and a French officer described

it as the defeat of forty thousand men in forty minutes. The French

loss was over twelve thousand in killed, wounded, and prisoners, and

so completely were they dispersed that Clausel a week afterwards

could only collect twenty thousand to their standards. It was a great

victory, and celebrated as the first which Wellington had gained over

the French, for although at Talavera and Busaco he had repulsed the

French attack, he was not in either case in a position to do more than

hold his ground.

Throughout this short and desperate fight the Scudamores had been

fully engaged in conveying orders from one part of the field to

another. Shot and shell flew around them in all directions, and yet

when they met at the end of the action they found that they had

escaped without a scratch. The day following the battle the pursuit

began. Had King Joseph's advancing army united with Clausel's broken

troops, he could have opposed Wellington's advance with a force far

superior in numbers to that defeated at Salamanca. But Joseph, after

hesitating, fell back in one direction, Clausel retreated in another,

the opportunity for concentration was lost, and Wellington found no

foe to bar his way on his triumphant march upon Madrid.

Joseph fell back from the capital as the English approached, leaving

some thousands of men in the strong place known as the Retiro,

together with an immense amount of arms, ammunition, and military

stores of all kinds, all of which, including the troops, fell into the

hands of the English within a few days of their arrival at Madrid.

It was a proud moment for the Scudamores, as riding behind Lord

Wellington they entered Madrid on the 14th August.

The city was half mad with joy. Crowds lined the streets, while every

window and balcony along the route was filled with ladies, who waved

their scarves, clapped their hands, and showered flowers upon the

heads of their deliverers. Those below, haggard and half-starved,

for the distress in Madrid was intense, thronged round the general's

horse, a shouting, weeping throng, kissing his cloak, his horse, any

portion of his equipments which they could touch. Altogether it was

one of the most glorious, most moving, most enthusiastic welcomes ever

offered to a general.

The next fortnight was spent in a round of fetes, bull fights, and

balls, succeeding each other rapidly, but these rejoicings were but a

thin veil over the distress which was general throughout the town. The

people were starving, and many deaths occurred daily from hunger. The

British could do but little to relieve the suffering which they saw

around them, for they themselves were--owing to the utter breakdown of

all the arrangements undertaken by the Portuguese government, and to

the indecision and incapacity of the Home Government--badly fed, and

much in arrears of their pay. Nevertheless, the officers did what they

could, got up soup kitchens, and fed daily many hundreds of starving

wretches.

The heat was excessive and a very great deal of illness took place

among the troops. The French were gathering strength in the South,

and Wellington determined upon marching north and seizing Burgos, an

important place, but poorly fortified. Leaving General Hill with two

divisions at Madrid, he marched with the rest of the army upon Burgos.

CHAPTER XVII.

CAUGHT IN A TRAP.

So much had passed between the first visit of the Scudamores to Madrid

as Spanish peasant boys, and their second entry as captains upon Lord

Wellington's staff, that they had scarcely given a thought to the

dangers they had at that time run, or to the deadly hatred with which

they had inspired the guerilla chief Nunez. When they first rode

into the town, indeed, they had spoken of it one to the other, and

had agreed that it would be pleasant to be able to walk through the

streets without fear of assassination; for even, as Tom said, if the

scoundrel had any of his band there, they would not be likely to

recognize them in their uniforms.

One evening, however, when they had been in Madrid about a fortnight,

an incident happened which caused them to doubt whether their security

from the hatred of the guerilla was as complete as they had fancied.

They were sitting with a number of other officers in a large cafe in

the Puerta del Sol, the principal square in Madrid, when a girl came

round begging; instead of holding out her hand silently with a murmur

for charity in the name of the holy Virgin, she began a long story,

poured out in rapid language.

Several of the officers present knew more or less Spanish, but they

were unable to follow her quick utterances, and one of them said

laughingly, "Scudamore, this is a case for you, she is beyond us

altogether."

The girl followed the direction of the speaker's eye, and moved across

to the brothers, who happened to be sitting next to each other, and

began her story again. It was a complicated tale of French oppression,

and the boys, interrupting her here and there to ask for details,

talked with her for some minutes.

"I believe she is lying," Tom said, in English, "she tells her story

as if she had learned it by heart, and gets confused whenever we

cross-question her; there, give her a few coppers, I am out of

change."

As Peter put his hand into his pocket for the money, Tom glanced

up sharply at the girl. She was not, as might have been expected,

watching Peter's movements with interest, but was looking inquiringly

at some one in the crowd of promenaders. Tom followed her glance, and

saw a peasant, standing half-hidden behind a group of passers, nod to

her, and motion her to come to him. She waited until Peter put the

coins into her hand; then, with a brief word of thanks, she moved away

into the crowd.

"Peter, I believe those scoundrels are up to their old game, and

that we are watched. Once or twice since we have been sitting here I

have noticed a heavy-looking fellow glance at us very closely as he

passed, and I just saw the same fellow, who was evidently hiding from

observation, nod to that girl, and beckon her away."

"Her story was a lie from beginning to end," Peter said, "and it is

quite possible that it was a got-up thing, on purpose to see whether

we could talk Spanish well. I don't think any one could swear to us

who only saw us then; but the fact of our speaking Spanish so well

would go a long way towards settling the point in the mind of any one

who suspected us!"

"We must be careful in future, Peter, and avoid quiet streets after

dark, and keep a sharp look-out at all times, or we shall get a knife

between our ribs, as sure as fate."

Time, however, passed on without anything occurring to give any

support to their suspicion, they could not discover that they were

being watched, or their footsteps dogged. They, nevertheless,

continued to be, to a certain extent, upon their guard after dark; in

the daytime the number of English soldiers about the streets was so

large that there was very little danger of any attack.

On the evening before the army marched for Burgos, Tom, whose turn it

was for duty at head-quarters, received a despatch, to carry to one of

the generals of division encamped a mile or two out of the town. He

did not need to go round to his quarters, as his horse was standing

saddled in readiness in the courtyard. He was but an hour away, and,

as he knew that he would not be farther required, he rode round to the

house where he was quartered. His orderly came forward at his shout,

and took his horse, and he mounted the broad stairs of the house,