Free 02 - Keane's Challenge by Iain Gale

green friend there.’
    ‘Sooner we reach General Craufurd, sir, the better.’
    ‘Yes, he needs to know the extent of the force on its way to him. And even he will be hard pressed to hold them up.’
    Brigadier General Robert Craufurd, or ‘Black Bob’ as he was affectionately known to the rank and file, on account of his volatile temper and liking for strict discipline, had positioned his command, the recently formed ‘Light Division’, just before the village of Alameda. Although a division by name, it was actually no more than an oversized brigade, comprising two English battalions – the 43rd and 52nd – two of Portuguese ‘cacadores’ riflemen and the 95th Rifles.
    Keane knew that Craufurd was their only hope. If he could make it to the Light Division’s lines then at least they had a chance of halting the pursuing French. If not, it would all be up for them. Even the Hanoverian hussars, attacked on the march in column by enemy cavalry, would stand little chance. A handful of guides and a couple of squadrons of hussars, however bravely they fought, could not hope to take on an entire brigade.
    He yelled back to the men, ‘Spur on, come on,’ and dug his own spurs into the flanks of the mare. Within a few minutes they had picked up speed and were galloping fast. Looking into the distance Keane could see the village, which he knew from his map must be Alameda, beyond which lay the Portuguese border.
    Before it an old stone bridge lay across a narrow river – the Duas Casas. He could make out a body of troops now, formed up in line behind the bridge. Craufurd’s men, surely.
    He yelled again: ‘Across the bridge. Get across.’ Turning, he glanced behind and what he saw filled him with dread. For there, still distant but nevertheless closing fast with the rear ofthe column, he could see another body of horsemen. ‘Dragoons to your rear. Come on.’
    Lashing both sides of his horse’s neck now with his reins, Keane again dug in the spurs and muttered oaths. The animal pushed herself hard and Keane could feel her limbs throbbing and sense her distress. All of them were riding hard now, Silver holding the wounded dragoon in the saddle as they neared the bridge. From behind, the crackle of gunfire told him that the French dragoons had opened up from the saddle with their weapons and he wondered whether von Krokenburgh’s hussars would have replied. He was on the bridge now, and beyond, in front of the village, he could see the line of battle deployed in green and red with the brown of the Portuguese cacadores. Craufurd’s vanguard was formed up two deep across a wide front and Keane counted the four battalions, with the Rifles in front in skirmish order. He noticed that there were cavalry too, posted on the wings. He laughed and shouted to Martin, ‘See, Will, there we are. Salvation.’
    Martin gave a whoop and pushed past Keane, arriving at the lines first. He jumped from his horse and turned to pull off his carbine before sending the animal to the rear. Keane followed suit and with him the others. Gabriella alone remained with the horses, and the wounded dragoon.
    Keane called, ‘Silver, make yourself known to General Craufurd. Tell him that we’re here and that there’s a French division on our heels.’
    Silver nodded. ‘Sir,’ and went to find the general.
    Keane turned to Ross. ‘Sarn’t, we’ll join the line. Stop those bastards a second time.’
    There was a shot as a rifleman on picket, seeing Keane and his men, discharged his weapon above their heads.
    ‘Who goes there? Friend or foe?’
    Keane yelled back, ‘Friend, rifleman. Captain Keane, Corps of Guides.’
    The rifleman waived them on into the lines.
    The hussars were coming in now along with a few riderless horses that told a tale of their own. Von Krokenburgh led them off to the left flank and Keane reported to the first redcoat officer he could find, a callow lad of the 43rd who greeted him with a stammer and a grin.
    ‘Good