Colonel Christopher might have rewritten the rules, yet the chess pieces could still only move in their accustomed ways, but his knowledge of the moves allowed him to look ahead and, he fancied, he did that with more perspicacity than most men.
There were two possible outcomes to the French invasion of Portugal. Either the French would win or, far less likely, the Portuguese with their British allies would somehow evict Soult’s forces.
If the French won then Christopher would be the owner of Savages’ lodge, the trusted ally of the country’s new masters, and rich beyond belief.
If the Portuguese and their British allies won then he would use Argenton’s pathetic conspiracy to explain why he had remained in enemy territory, and use the collapse of the proposed mutiny as an excuse for the failure of his schemes. And then he would need to move a couple of pawns to remain the owner of Savages which would be enough to make him a rich man, if not rich beyond belief.
So he could not lose, so long as the pawns did what they were supposed to do, and one of those pawns was Major Henri Dulong, the second in command of the 31st Leger, one of the crack French light infantry units in Portugal. The 31st knew it was good, but none of its soldiers was the equal of Dulong, who was famous throughout the army. He was tough, daring and ruthless, and on this early May evening of wind and rain and low cloud, Major Dulong’s job was to lead his voltigeurs up the southern path that led to the watchtower on the hill above the Quinta. Take that height, Brigadier Vuillard explained, and the scrappy forces in Vila Real de Zedes had nowhere to go. So while the dragoons made a noose about the village and the Quinta, Dulong would capture the hill.
It had been Brigadier Vuillard’s idea to attack at dusk. Most soldiers would expect an assault at dawn, but it was Vuillard’s notion that men’s guard was lower late in the day. „They’re looking forward to a skin of wine, a wench and a hot meal,” he had told Christopher, then he had fixed the time for the assault at a quarter to eight in the evening. The sun would actually set a few moments before, but the twilight would stretch until half past eight, though the clouds had proved so thick that Vuillard doubted there would be any twilight to speak of. Not that it mattered. Dulong had been lent a good Breguet watch and he had promised that his men would be on the watchtower’s peak at a quarter to eight just as the dragoons converged on the village and the Quinta. The remaining companies of the 31st Leger would first climb up to the wood and then sweep down onto the Quinta from the south. „I doubt Dulong will see any action,” Vuillard told Christopher, „and he’ll be unhappy about that. He’s a bloodthirsty rascal.”
„You’ve given him the most dangerous task, surely?”
„But only if the enemy are on the hilltop,” the Brigadier explained. „I hope to catch them off guard, Colonel.”
And it seemed to Christopher as though Vuillard’s hopes were justified for, at a quarter to eight, the dragoons charged into Vila Real de Zedes and met almost no opposition. A clap of thunder was the accompaniment to the attack and a stab of lightning split the sky and reflected silver white from the dragoons’ long swords. A handful of men resisted, some muskets were fired from a tavern beside the church and Vuillard later discovered, through questioning the survivors, that a band of partisans had been recuperating in the village. A handful of them escaped, but eight others were killed and a score more, including their leader, who called himself the Schoolteacher, were captured. Two of Vuillard’s dragoons were wounded.
A hundred more dragoons rode to the Quinta. They were commanded by a captain who would rendezvous with the infantry coming down through the woods and the Captain had promised to make certain the property was not looted. „You don’t want to go with them?” Vuillard asked.
„No.” Christopher was watching the village girls being pushed toward the largest tavern.