A bush of Brambles. [Open, Bog]

[Drunk Pasty]

" We are only merchants." Dewi answered from the dark with a fake southern accent. A few men behind him looked skeptic, but they played along. " My name's Jeb." Dewi lied, still speaking that southern accent.

A few of the most silent fighters stood in the dark, they had a clean view of what was going on, they would use swords only, musket fire would startle the Colonels forces.

Dewi , or Jeb reigned his horse, pulling to the left, barley visible. His sword was tied to the saddle, incase it clanged. It was hidden by his long cloak.

[Bog]

Merchants? This late at night? Howard frowned and lifted his musket to his shoulder. He was nervous but clearheaded enough to know what to do.

"Hold fast where you are!" He called out to the strangers, then raised his voice. "Sergeant!"

The duty sergeant was a grumpy fellow called Williams, but Howard had complete confidence in him. Williams could sort this out. The sergeant appeared within a minute, his halberd resting against one shoulder. "S'the trouble here?" Williams demanded.

"Merchants out yon, Sarn't," Howard told him, his musket still at his shoulder, his finger ready to go round the trigger. "They ain't said their purpose. Jus' that one of 'em's called Jeb."

"Wot's yer b'ness, then?" Williams snapped, directing the question to the supposed merchants. The sergeant dropped his voice to a nearly-inaudible growl and added, "There's a fair few of 'em, for they to be merchants. You be ready to fire on 'em, laddie."

Howard nodded. He was ready.

[Drunk Pasty]

" We got caught in tha' storm, we need t' get back t' New York!" Dewi Said.

" We ain' no harm'. We 'r ' jus' merchants." One of the men in the back added.

Dewi reigned his horse again turning to his left. Any minute now, he looked at his tome piece.

Four minutes to go.
He wasn't sure why these men would not believe he was a Colonel. He was completely hidden now, the moon was covered by a cloud.

[Bog]

"Sarn't," Howard whispered, "I seen a sword."

Williams frowned. He'd seen the brief flash of moonlight on steel as well, before some clouds had drifted across the moon and obscured it. "Steady lad. Be ready t'receive cavalry," he hissed, casually shifting his halberd so the butt of the long haft rested firmly against the ground. Then he turned partially away and whistled five notes, three short, one long, and one short.

That would bring the captain and a couple lads up shortly, and would also alert the other picquets to possible trouble. Though if there was cavalry lurking out there, the outspread picquets would be easy prey to them. Williams hated cavalry.

"There ain't any markets here'bouts. Now piss off back to where'er you come from. You got ten seconds!" The sergeant called to the self-described merchants. Who likely weren't merchants worth the name at all, either. Otherwise, they would have shown themselves by now instead of hanging back in the dark, with swords and horses, no less.

To Howard, Williams whispered, "On me word, you fire. Then drop like you's in the firs' rank of a square."

The young private nodded, his musket trained on the source of the first voice, which he reckoned to be some twenty yards off. His finger was resting lightly around the firelock's trigger. All he needed was the word from his sergeant.

From behind them came two whistled notes, one short and one long. There was a slight grunt from Williams and he muttered, "That's ten, or near 'nuff. Fire!"

Howard squeezed the trigger. The flint snapped forward to strike against the frizzen, sparking the powder in the pan immediately. An instant later the musket fired with a sharp crack, the long tongue of flame leaping out from the weapon's muzzle amid a plume of powder smoke. In these conditions, it was not likely he would hit anything, but the statement he'd made was very clear.

Having fired, Howard dropped at once to one knee, planting the butt of his musket against the earth so the firelock and the long bayonet on its muzzle were angled outward. Ready to receive cavalry.

[Drunk Pasty]

The bullet fluttered harmlessly above Dewis head, smacking into the mud behind him.
" Lads! Sound the horn!" Dewi ordered drawing his sword riding forward, he grinned as men sprung from bushes around the piquets; they wielded swords, knifes and anything sharp.
A few men had leafs on them, to camouflage them. They advanced cautiously, about 35 cavalrymen hung back, out of view.

Out of the dark they came, crazy Welsh bastards pointing swords at the piquets.

They may be crazy, but by god Dewi was proud of his countrymen.

[Bog]

That one shot had done its work, even if it had not struck anything. The alarm was quite suitably raised. Captain Leighton quickened his pace, leading the short column of twelve men toward the part of the picquet line the shot had come from. He did not yet know who had come to challenge them, not for sure, but he had a very strong suspicion about it. If his suspicion was correct...

"Cavalry, sir!" Sergeant Williams bawled from up ahead. His warning was confirmed by the blare of a trumpet.

Leighton reacted immediately. "Fix bayonets! Johnson, go back to Major Tilby and report that our picquets are in danger of being driven in. We shall require some assistance."

The private saluted and was gone, hurrying away back toward the regiment's bivouac. In short order, Leighton dispatched another man to rouse the rest of the Light Company at the double. There was no time to be lost. Then he ordered his small force to form line. Even if it was cavalry out there, he was determined to welcome it with some volley fire.

"Picquets!" Sergeant Williams bellowed in his rasping voice. "Fire! Fire into the bastards!"

"Fire and withdraw!" Leighton cried, hoping the order had been heard over the disjointed crackling of musketry. Some men had heard, it seemed. They were falling back to the short line Leighton was swiftly approaching with. Good.

"Platoon, halt! You picquets, prime and load!"

Ahead of them, Leighton could see the darker blots that were men, moving about. It was nearly too dark to see but bodies still stood out the barest bit against the night. He did not know if those were any of his men or if they were the enemy, but he was not prepared to take chances. He drew his sword. "Platoon! Make. Ready!" He waited for the clatter of flints being drawn back to cease. The sound would, hopefully, serve as a warning of what was about to happen. "Present!"

Then he paused. There was no sign that the shifting shadows of men out there were his own. They couldn't be, either. There were not that many lads in the outspread picquet line. Too, those shadows looked to be coming on, with an eagerness. Leighton drew in a breath.

"Fire!"

[Drunk Pasty]

A horse reared, another neighed viciously. " Kill them!" Dewi screamed. " Kill all the bloody bastards!" It was by no means a silent attack by now, most men had ran to pick their carbines up, while others pounced on unsuspecting wingers, teeth bared. Swords and muskets clashed, hooves pounded the dry dirt. The cavalry circled the men, fearing the shiny blades.

Dewi raced forward, sword in hand. He turned just before the bayonets, parrying a stab and slicing his attackers hand

[Bog]

That was sign enough that they were facing a determined enemy, Leighton thought. Fortunately, the noise of the fight would bring the rest of the regiment up at once to support them.

"Form square! Quickly now!"

The square was their only defence against cavalry, but with so few men it would be a thin defence at best. The men drew back, keeping their bayonet-tipped muskets pointing outward, until they were standing in the necessary formation. Shoulder to shoulder, one rank standing and the other kneeling, all facing the circling cavalry.

"Standing rank!" Leighton called, stepping aside as a corporal tried to help a wounded man who'd been slashed across his front. "Present! Fire!"

Flame, smoke, and deadly balls of lead erupted from all four sides of the little square.

[Drunk Pasty]

A few men fall, their horses slamming into the ground with them, sometimes the horse would land an inch away from the square. The morale stood steady. " The bastards are scared! Kill them!" Dewi egged his men on, he had dropped his cloak to reveal a waistcoat.

Some dragoons fell back to pick off men with their carbines, the battle was won. Or so they thought.

" Dan les hussards!" The cry came from behind them, Dewi turned, only to see death. A French group of hussars, on a forage party had heard the crackle of musketry.

Dewi turned around, spurring his horse away from the square and away from the hussars. " Retreat!" He screamed, his men followed his path.

And the hussars rode on.

[Bog]

The standing rank of men were reloading, their movements brisk and only a little hasty. They weren't panicking. Yet. If the attacking cavalry persisted, however, there was no telling how well this tiny force would stand up. But the regiment was coming. That was the only comfort Leighton could find in their present situation.

The abrupt sheering off of their assailants caught him by surprise, until he realised they had fallen back in order to leave the little square to a well-advanced troop of French hussars. The barking of orders in that language betrayed the new horsemen's nationality. Hell and death. Leighton stared into the unsettled darkness, wondering what else could go wrong this evening.

"Standing rank!" He snapped. "Make. Ready!" On the bright side, at least he knew that every man facing him was an enemy. Best to keep things simple after all. "Present! Fire!"

[Drunk Pasty]

Dewi pulled up close on the square holding his hands in the air. " Look, don't shoot me. The only way we are going to survive is if we team up, so swallow your dignity and fall back!"

Dewi then rode forward, backhanding a hussar on the way. The dead hussar fell close to the square. He had come up with a plan, the square would draw the hussars and Dewi would smash into their backs.

" 7th on me!" He shouted in a hoarse voice over the sound of hooves and screams. As his troops rallied he rode away, forming to the far left of the furthest hussars. " Swords out!" He ordered, bringing his sword into the air. His men pulled their swords out, if they hadn't all ready.

Then they charged.

[Bog]

"Stand fast, lads!" There was no way Leighton would withdraw in the face of the enemy. He was not a coward. Neither was he a fool. That cavalryman and his troop had only just be doing their level best to smash through Leighton's men. Now he wanted to act as allies? Never.

A sergeant behind him called out, "The regiment, sir!"

They were here. At last. Leighton turned round and saw the column approaching at a swift pace. Good lads! Even as he watched, the column halted and immediately began to shift its formation, drawing at once into a square. A much larger square than Leighton's own.

"Hold steady!" The captain called. He could see very little in the darkness but the varied noise of combat told him the two cavalry forces were clashing. Apparently, anyway. This was all so damned strange. "That rank, there! Prime and load!"

The handful of men facing the cavalry would be ready to fire again within twenty seconds.

[Drunk Pasty]

" God Damn!" Dewi cursed loudly pulling his sabre from a Frogs' chest, blood dripped from the end of the sword and his nose. The newly passed Frenchie had caught him off guard with a wild punch to the nose.

His regiment had ploughed deep into the Hussars, too deep. " Fall back!" Came the call, and that is what they did. They fell back to the ridge, only a few meters from their camp. They held fast in a line, pulling their carbines out, reloaded and started firing at will into the darkness.

[Bog]

Lovely. Now they were being fired upon. The brief muzzle flashes in the dark told him that much. A man in the standing rank nearest Leighton went down with a curse, and the men on either side of him closed up to fill the gap.

"That rank there, present and fire!" Leighton called. "All ranks, prime and load!"

This was getting to be too much. But it seemed their French assailants had had enough. The rumble of hooves seemed to be drawing off, indicating a withdrawal.

[Drunk Pasty]

Dewi had turned his horse at the regiment. " Time, major?" He asked turning his head.
" About 12 in the night." The major replied looking down on his time piece. Dewi then turned to the hussars, they had sent the colour to the back. And dewi wanted them. " 7th! Capture the Frenchies colour!" He spurred his horse to catch up to the more eager men. They ploughed yet again into the flank of the hussars.

[Bog]

"Hold fast!" Leighton called, unwilling to waste lead firing at shadows that were drawing out of range. Where in the devil was their own cavalry when they were needed? He was not about to release his lads from the square until he knew the danger was gone.

The continuing sounds of combat from out there in the darkness did nothing to ease his uncertainty or his worry. If they had to, they would remain here all night until daylight provided them the means to determine that they were safe.

[Drunk Pasty]

They pushed further into the hussars, viciously. Swords clanked, screams and blood spurting was the sound currently.

Dewi finished off a hussars by slicing his side quickly but powerfully. He kicked his stirrup into the side of his horse, pushing a few men out of the way. He could almost smell the coloured ribbon that so many had died for.

He pushed his hand forward, feeling the cloth through his leather gloves. He grabbed the corner and pulled himself forward an inch, he then grabbed the pole and yanked it with one hand, from the ground.

He parried a wild swing and pushed the sword into the darkness. His men had made a small path for him to ride. As Dewi rode down this path, the French colour held in pride, he wondered of what that regiment in square would do.

" Fall back!"

[Bog]

The sudden up-surge in French shouting was closely followed by a nearly unified carbine volley. Something was happening out there and while Leighton did not know what, he was certain that it could be nothing good. He gripped his drawn sword and stared hard into the darkness. It almost seemed that there were horsemen coming toward them, but the varied clash of sounds that indicated ongoing combat made it impossible to tell.

"Cavalry!" A corporal cried in warning.

That was enough for Leighton. "Present!" The captain bellowed and all sides of his little square presented their muskets, ready to fire.

[Drunk Pasty]

" Fall back!" He continued, hearing the faint rattle of muskets presenting. Dewi turned his horse towards the square. Then rode on, turning slightly as he reached 50 paces, then quickly spurred his horse into a gallop. The captured tri-colour fluttered innocently in the nights wind. His men waited on a small hill, reloading their carbines.

After he had rode to meet them he consulted the major. " This went into a nightmare."
The major simply nodded as Dewi turned away as the crackle of carbines echoed through his ears.

[Bog]

He would never know, later, the name of the man who fired. It had to be down to nerves and the uncertainty of the situation - free-roaming enemy cavalry, the darkness, having been attacked only a few minutes before, and no doubt that man's inexperience. Whatever the reason, a single musket shot rang out in the night, followed a few seconds later by a disjointed volley from that side of the square.

"Shoulder. Arms!" Sergeant Williams bellowed, sounding furious that anyone in his company would be so undisciplined as to fire without the appropriate order from Leighton.

Leighton himself did not show his anger, but instead called out calmly, "Be steady, you lads. Steady!" Clearly they would have to come up with a way to find out what was going on out there. A horse and rider had come dangerously close to their square, at a gallop no less. The rumbling thunder of hooves was approaching again, it seemed, which meant the regiment was not out of trouble yet.

"Where the devil's our own bloody cavalry?" Corporal Duncan uttered, then glanced quickly toward his captain. "Sorry, sir."

Leighton simply shook his head at the apology. He could forgive Duncan's slip. The question was one he had as well.