Reille's guns were all trained on the courtyard and the surrounding buildings, and scarcely any shells had fallen in the neat garden which Barbara Childe had planned to visit again in the summer. Roses were blooming in the formal beds; the long turf walks between were shaded by fruit trees, and perfectly smooth. The Colonel had no time to waste in gazing on this refreshing scene; but its contrast with the horror of the courtyard most forcibly struck him as he strode towards the high brick wall on the southern side. Here the defenders were for the most part gathered, some firing through the rough loopholes, other mounted on the wooden platforms, and firing over the top of the wall into the infantry in the orchard and the fringe of the wood beyond. Colonel Audley soon found Macdonnell, and delivered the Duke's message. The big Scot read it, and gave a short laugh. "He need not worry: we can hold the place. But send more ammunition down to us, Audley, if you can: we're running damned short. How is it going along the rest of the line?"
"The 5th Division and the heavy brigades have repulsed an infantry attack on the left centre, sir. No one has it as hot as you, so far."
"Ah! Well, no one has troops like my fellows. Tell the Duke there's no talk of surrender here."
Making his way back again through the house and the courtyard, Colonel Audley once more reached the wicket gate, and found his horse, which he had tethered there, apparently not much troubled by the loss of his ear. He mounted, and galloped back to the main position, crossing the hollow road just below the spot where the few companies of Byng's brigade not engaged in the struggle about Hougoumont were posted. He did not see Byng himself, but gave Macdonnell's message to a senior officer, who begged him to carry it further, to the Prince of Orange's staff. He rode on towards Maitland's brigade, where he was informed the Prince was to be found, but was told there by Maitland himself that the Prince had moved to the left, towards Alten's division.
"I'll send one of my family, if you like," Maitland said. "The trouble is to get the carts through to Hougoumont."
"You have enough on your hands, sir, by the look of it. I must pass Alten's division in any case."
Maitland had his glass to his eye, and replied in a preoccupied tone: "Very well. I don't like the look of those fellows moving up round the eastern side of Hougoumont. I wonder - no, never mind: off with you!"
The Colonel left him still watching the stealthy advance of a large body of French light troops who were creeping along the eastern hedge of the Hougoumont enclosure with the evident intention of turning Saltoun's left flank, and galloped on towards the centre of the line.
The Prince of Orange, who was surrounded by numerous staff, was not difficult to pick out. He was wearing his English hussar dress, with an orange cockade in his hat, and was standing beside Halkett's bridge on the right flank of the division, his glass, like Maitland's trained on the advancing French skirmishers. The Colonel rode towards him, but arrived in his presence in a precipitate fashion which he did not intend. A shell, bursting within a few yards of him, brought his horse down in mid-gallop; the Colonel was shot over his head, feeling at the same moment something like a red-hot knife sear his left thigh, and fell almost at the feet of Lord March.
The explosion, and the heavy fall, knocked him senseless for a moment or two, but he soon came to himself, to find March's face bent over him. He blinked at it, recollected his surroundings, and tried to laugh. "Good God, what a way to arrive!"
"Are you hurt, Charles?"
"No, merely dazed," replied the Colonel, grasping his friend's hand, and pulling himself up. "My horse killed?"
"One of the men shot him. His fore legs were blown off at the knees. We thought you were gone. You are hurt! I'll get you to the rear."
"You'll do no such thing!" said the Colonel, feeling his leg through his blood-stained breeches. "I think a splinter must have caught me. I'll get one of Halkett's sawbones to tie it up. I was looking for you fellows. I've been charged by Colonel Macdonnell to see that more ammunition is sent down to him."
"I'll pass the message. Things are looking rather black at the moment." He pointed towards the hedge of the Hougoumont.
At that moment the Prince cantered up, looking pale and rather excited. "March! I've ordered the light troops not to stir from their position! They were forming to move against those skirmishers who are trying to turn Saltoun's left flank, but I'm sure the Duke will have seen that movement, and will make his own dispositions. You agree?"
"Yes, sir."
"Eh, mon Dieu, if one knew what were best to do - but no, I'm right! Charles, go at once to the rear: you awe bleeding like a pig! My dear fellow, I have so much on my hands - ah, I was right! I knew it! See there, March! The Guards are moving down to cut off his attempt! All is well then, and it is a mercy I would not permit the light troops to go. March, take Charles to the rear, and find him a horse - no, a surgeon! Au revoir, Charles. I wish - but you see how it is: I have not a moment!"
He flew off again; Audley's eyes twinkled; he said: "Has he been like this all day?"
March smiled. "This is nothing. But you mustn't laugh at him; he's doing well - quite well, if only he wouldn't get excited. Good, there's one of the assistant-surgeons! Finlayson! Patch Colonel Audley up, will you? I'll get you a trooper from somewhere, Charles. Take care of yourself!"
The Colonel's wound was found to have been caused, as he suspected, by a splinter. This was speedily, if somewhat painfully, extracted, and his leg bound up, by which time one of the sergeants of the 30th Regiment had come up, leading a trooper. The Colonel mounted, declaring himself to be in splendid shape, and rode off as fast as his heavy steed would bear him.
The Duke was standing on Alten's right flank, on the highest part of the position. The time was a little after three o'clock, and Colonel Audley rejoined his lordship just as the sadly diminished Household Brigade was returning from a charge led by Uxbridge against a French force once more attacking the farm of La Haye Sainte. Baring had been reinforced by two companies after the overthrow of D'Erlon's columns, and the little garrison, in spite of having lost possession of the orchard and garden, was stoutly defending the buildings. The second attack, which was not very rigorously pressed, had been repulsed, and the charge of the Household Cavalry seemed to have succeeded. The French infantry had drawn off again, and except for the continued but not very severe cannonade against the whole Allied front, and the bitter fight about Hougoumont, a lull had fallen on the battle. Colonel Audley seized the opportunity to ride to the rear, where, on the chaussee a little below Mont St Jean, his groom was stationed with his remaining horses. He fell in with Gordon on the way, and learned from him that the head of Bulow's crops was reported to have reached St Lambert, five miles to the east of La Belle Alliance.
"Coming along in their own good time, damn them!" said Gordon. "They say the roads are almost impassable, but I'll tell you what, Charles, if we don't get some reinforcements for our left centre before we're attacked again we shall be romped."
"Where's Lambert?"
"Just come up into the front line, which means we haven't a single man in reserve on the left - unless you count Bylandt's heroes as reserves."
"I shouldn't care to trust to them," admitted the Colonel. "Did their officers ever succeed in re-forming them?"
"I don't know. Pack's fellows have started a tale that they've all gone off for a picnic in the Forest. I never saw such a damnable rout in all my life! It was God's mercy it happened where it did, and not before some of our raw regiments. You were there, weren't you? Is it true that Picton's rascals fired after them?"