While on reconnaissance, Wellington was almost captured by the French, but managed to elude them and return to his main force. Soult, who had sixty-thousand troops at his disposal, launched a vicious uphill assault with half of his men. The battle was bitter and bloody on both sides. Griff and Captain Blakey had become good friends. Always impulsive, naturally warm-hearted, Griff at once forget Blakey’s affectations of speech and manners which initially irritated him. Griff was glad to have the man riding by his side. Blakey was cool in the thick of a fight, and therefore, a solid compatriot in Griff’s eyes. The Allies had held the French off. “By Jove, Spencer! You’re a bully madman in battle,” Blakey congratulated Griff when the fighting slowed. Griff merely grunted in reply. I have things to prove, he said silently. To myself and to my family. Perhaps then I can believe my earlier peccadilloes are redeemed, forgotten, and go on with my life, wherever it takes me. Reinforcements arrived and more fresh British units reached the field.
