The smoke spiralled upwards, lifting sparks into the air. Swirling then climbing, it floated up into the black, night sky. James Tandey reached forward and poked the fire with a stout branch, releasing another shower of sparks. He threw on another log and stared, mesmerised, into the flickering flames. A blackened lump of wood hissed and wheezed, and spat out a sliver of charcoal like a pistol shot.

"Some more James?" Seth Jones held out the stone flagon, offering it round the small group of soldiers.

James stood, drew himself to his full, impressive height and wondered about the battle to come.  The brass buttons on his tunic gleamed in the firelight. He stretched his long arms upwards, looked across the fields, held out his cup and studied the constellation of twinkling fires before him... random pinpricks of light dotted across the rolling grasslands, their reflections shimmering in the lake.

Thousands of soldiers were gathered round their fires nothing but hazy shadows in the distant gloom, their mumbled conversations and sporadic singing, drifted on the air and a million sparkling stars looked down upon them from a black, deep night.

Jack Whiteley looked up from polishing his spurs, a smile on his wrinkled face. In his mid thirties, Jack had been in the Warwickshires for ten years. He had risen to lance corporal and dropped to private on four occasions but he had no further aspirations. Albert Hooper had a good few years more under his belt. He made Corporal some six years before and stayed there. He twisted his greying moustache, glanced round and seeing there were no officers nearby, he undid the top button on his red tunic as the heat of the fire got to him.

The rum sloshed into James' cup. "Hold your horses Seth! Leave room for the water!"
    "What's the matter? Haven't you learned to hold it yet?" Seth was laughing, rocking on his heels and slapping his thigh with merriment.

"I'll have enough trouble sitting on my damn horse tomorrow," said James, "without a devil of a head and a bubbling stomach."

"No James. You're a fine horseman," said Jack spitting onto a boot and buffing it with a piece of rough linen. "A natural. You're young, you just need more experience."

"I wonder how real it will all be tomorrow?" said James stabbing at the fire again.

"A long way from real, but real enough for the new horses," said Albert.

Seth swirled the last dregs of rum round the bottom of his cup before throwing it down his throat. "Damn! That's the last of the ration!" he said, shaking the flagon.

"I'm glad I'm on Saracen and not one of the new ones," said James.

"Captain Ludlow will only give a new horse to an experienced man James, you have no concern there!" Albert laughed at the jibe as James seated himself cross-legged on the ground and drank from his cup. Seth looked at the cup enviously.

"Still, it will be a mighty fine day tomorrow. As close as we can ever get in a sham fight," said Jack, "though as Albert said, a long way from the truth."

Sergeant Major Wrigley was an old soldier. He had seen how an Assegai could rip the entrails from a man yet leave him screaming for hours. He survived the Zulu wars some twenty years before and though he made a game of this, he respected his men and would do anything to pass on his experience. He strolled through his battalion's section, in the flickering light, restating his CO's orders for the following morning. The men were relaxed, eased into comfort by the heat of the fires and the warmth of the rum. James was the first to see him approaching and leapt to his feet, the others followed.

"At ease," said Sergeant Wrigley consulting his notebook. He glanced at Hooper's unbuttoned tunic, thought for a moment and decided not to comment. "Right you bunch of girls! Fires out in half an hour and get some sleep! Pack your bedrolls, tents and kit before breakfast. If you must tax the regiment's resources, there'll be a bowl of warm oats at the catering tents, at 6.0. You are to muster in front of the Great House by 7.30, be sure to listen for the bugler. Our job for the day is to defend this fine estate and the Marquis of Hertford's house against attack from several Birmingham Battalions; your adversaries will be the Coventry men. We expect them to come from the Weethley Church direction on the south side. If the battle goes to plan, you are to charge on the bugler's call and drive a wedge through their left flank. With any luck the Worcestershire's footmen will follow and we shall win the day. Is everything clear?"

The men mumbled agreement.

"And by God's name, remember to leave your shot in your cases and your cases in your saddlebags. Rifle smoke alone is sufficient for our purpose. The infantrymen have been similarly advised. We don't want a careless hand dropping a stray bullet into a cartridge or the result will be serious!"

Again the men muttered agreement and Sergeant Wrigley strode off. Then he stopped and turned.

"Corp'l Hooper!" he said.

"Yes sarn't!"

"A word man."

Albert walked over and the Sergeant spoke in whispered tones.

"Stay close to young Tandey tomorrow... look after him."

Albert glanced at James and nodded. Sergeant Wrigley walked on, his spurs jingling, to the next campfire and his next group.

As Albert rejoined the men, they relaxed and seated themselves again round the fire on the flattened grass.

"I must go to the hostler and see if Saracen's all right before I turn in," said James.

"You fuss so! He will be fine," said Seth. "He knows more than you James. He'll carry you through the day with honour!"

"You are probably right Seth..." said James smiling, "...you are probably right."

"You treat the old beast like a sweetheart," said Jack.

"No, Jack. I treat him like a gentleman."

"Do you have a sweetheart James?" asked Albert grinning.

"Yes. But it is no concern of yours," said James, prickling at the question.

"Come now James. Tell us, is she beautiful?" Albert's voice had a gentle mocking tone.

"Or is she like the old harpy I married some fifteen years since," said Jack laughing. The men chuckled and James relented. He smiled and gazed into the fire as he thought of Catherine. "Yes. She is beautiful... in face and mind and I have a fancy to marry her, just as soon as my time here is done and she is old enough."

"Then why did you enlist?" said Jack.

"It is a long story. And worthy of another time."

"We'll, need more rum for that tale no doubt," said Seth. "The ration is spent, let's douse the fire and get some sleep."

"Here," said James, "have mine. I haven't the taste." He held out his cup and Seth took it without hesitation. Jack examined his shining boots and dabbed at an imaginary speck with his cloth while Albert produced a small shovel from his kit bag and started to throw earth on to the fire, scattering ash into the air.

"Steady man!" said Jack grabbing at his boots. "I've just cleaned them."

Albert and James laughed at Jack's panic. "It's pointless anyway," said James. "The dew will be upon them in the morning and you will have to do them again, or hear from the sergeant!"

"You have a lot to learn boy," said Jack smiling back at him. "I shall be sleeping in them and as I toss and turn, the inside of my sleep-sack will keep them spic and polished."

**

Dawn gave way to brilliant sunshine. Clumps of wild daffodils swayed back and forth as the grass slopes sparkled around the lake. The morning mist sat on the water, knee-high, swirling gently in the wake of squabbling mallards. Clouds of wood smoke hung high over the camp, blurring the still-naked branches round the edge of the fields. Lines of infantrymen and cavalrymen slowly shuffled along by the tents, holding out their bowls. They were chatting and joshing each other, grateful for a ladle full of steaming porridge.

"I hope this slop is edible. My Horse eats better fare than I do," said James.

"You hope for too much," said Seth laughing. "You are fed too well at home!"

They placed their bedrolls on the wet grass and sat on them to eat their porridge.

"These oats are still raw," said Jack, "though they are warm at least."

After consuming their breakfast, they collected their horses and made their way up the slopes to muster outside the Great House, Ragley Hall. The building, in grey stone, rose huge and square out of the mist. It sat on top of the hill, a ghostly monarch, fastened unbending to its origins. The external staircases stretched, ramp-like from both sides, also in grey stone and leading up to the grand entrance. Hospital tents billowed and crimson flags fluttered in the breeze at the side of the house. The Sergeant Majors and their Sergeants, a dozen of them, trotted along the front of the Warwickshire Yeoman's battalion, barking their commands.

"Mount! Mount your horses men!"

Metal chinked on metal as gleaming spurs touched iron stirrups. Leather creaked as 600 seats settled on their saddles. The horses pranced and twitched as they took the weight.

"Steady men! Steady them! Hold your horses now!" shouted a sergeant. 

Colonel Cox watched the scene from a window at the house, with the Marquis of Hertford, a pot of coffee in his hand and a plate of toasted muffins on the table before them. "I do hope there won't be too much damage to your land sir," said the Colonel.

"Not at all Colonel, it is of no consequence. It can be mended."

"I cannot thank you enough for the generous use of your estate. These few days will benefit the troops tremendously. Many of them are battle virgins."

"It is my pleasure and my duty Colonel."

The bugler sat still, by the cavalrymen, waiting... he swilled his mouth from his water bottle and spat out, dreading a dry mouth.

James was up and on to Saracen's back in the smooth flowing movement of a fit young man, patting the great black neck and twisting his horse's ears fondly, he settled into the saddle. Saracen stood, steady as a rock, unshakeable, his proud head held high as the younger horses fussed and reared around him. In the distance, a mile away across the tilting grasslands, James could see the Worcestershire Fusiliers, a column of some 400 men marching round the back of the lake, towards the Coventry battalion who were stood at the ready, in a dip in the land. The Worcestershire men had the advantage of higher ground for the next few hundred yards but because of the hollow, neither battalion could see each other. If they kept their present course, battle would be joined shortly. A troop of around ten horsemen appeared from the opposite side of the lake and rode round the perimeter, passing clumps of woodland. Puffs of white smoke greeted them from the woods and a marshal, displaying a yellow pennant, galloped towards them and retired them from the battle.

"Steady men...Steady now! It's working!" screamed a Sergeant.

Colonel Cox took another bite out of a muffin and spoke with his mouthful to the Marquis. "That's good sir! Look, they've unmasked the musketry in the woods. The Worcestershires will have to engage those riflemen urgently, but they can't see them from their position." The Colonel went out on to the balcony and shouted down to Captain Ludlow. "Ludlow! Despatch a runner with haste. The Worcestershires must engage the riflemen in the woodlands 50 yards to the north of the lake, or your cavalry will be cut down!"

A Yeoman was despatched at the gallop. He raced down the hill veered sharply to the right and swerving behind the riflemen; he past them before they could turn and fire. Carrying on round the lake he skidded to a halt at the Worcestershire's Captain and delivered his orders.

Back at the house, Sergeant Wrigley was trotting up and down his section shouting at his men. "Wait for the bugle. On the call, charge through the Coventry battalion... that's the men in the hollow. The Fusiliers will follow and we will win the day!" The echo went down the ranks "Coventry battalion... in the hollow..."

The bugler took another swig of water, the tension bringing a red flush to his cheeks.

The Marquis of Hertford signalled his butler to pour the Colonel another cup of coffee. "Look sir," said the Colonel, "they're taking on the men in the woods!"

Three ranks of Fusiliers broke from the Worcestershire's column and marched up the rise towards the edge of the lake. The first rank lay on the ground, the second rank kneeled and the third rank stood behind them. There were puffs of smoke in unison as the platoon fired a salvo across the lake into the woods. The bang rolled up the hill and some of the younger horses twitched and pranced. The Fusiliers started firing independently, their numbers vastly greater than the men in the woods. Colonel Cox squinted through his binoculars, trying to count the puffs of smoke as a Marshal galloped to the skirmish. "That should be ours by God!" he shouted. "That man had better be right!" The Marshal waved his yellow pennant pointing across the lake and there was a great cheer from the Fusiliers. "Thought so. Damn good eh?" said the Colonel. "We can send in the Cavalry now. These muffins are delicious sir."

The Marquis smiled.

Corporal Hooper was by James' side, his young horse pulling and dancing. Saracen took up the strain on his bit, his ears pointing forward and his eyes on the bugler. James could feel the tensile strength building from Saracen's hindquarters into his flanks until the whole animal was taut and coiled.

"Are you well James?" shouted Hooper above the noise. "How do you feel?"

"My stomach churns. If I feel like this now, what will a real battle be like?"

Hooper laughed, "This is only a play James; you have nothing to fear. Enjoy the thrill of the charge and the wind in your face."

Captain Ludlow on horseback was waiting at the bottom of the stone staircase, a Yeoman by his side, looking up at Colonel Cox on the balcony with his coffee cup in hand. Staring out across the estate, his bald head gleaming in the sunlight, he lowered his binoculars, turned, looked down upon Captain Ludlow and shouted "Send them in Captain. The way is clear!"

Ludlow saluted and nodded to the Yeoman, who jabbed his spurs into his horse's flanks and hit the gallop in yards. Gravel flew from his horse's hooves; he raced down the approach, wheeled right onto the grass slope and along the front of the battalion to the sergeant nearest the bugler, shouting "Orders from the Captain to charge sir!"

The sergeant, screamed almost before the Yeoman had delivered the order, "Bugler sound the charge." The call rang out across the battlefield, rolling and echoing across the grasslands and 600 men and horses took off as one. With a skip backwards, not needing the spurs, Saracen unleashed himself almost leaving James behind. They raced down the slopes, divots of turf flying in their wake.

James had never experienced the full power of a warhorse or the forward thrust in the base of his spine as the mighty engine gathered speed beneath him. But it wasn't just speed, it was the sheer power of the beast that left James in awe. He had galloped many times, but never like this, the animal had found an extra gear. He shouted at the top of his voice with exhilaration and Albert Hooper roared with laughter by his side, as he saw the wonder on James' face. The black main swept into his eyes as he crouched, leaning to the neck, standing slightly in the stirrups to keep his weight over the forward quarters. The thrill sent tingles down his back as he melded with the horse. He shifted his weight a little to the left and Saracen responded instantly, James marvelled at the combination of power and sensitivity. The air was filled with thundering hooves, jingling spurs and bouncing scabbards when at the bottom of the slope, at full pelt, his girth strap snapped. The sudden imbalance and the uneven ground took Saracen down, hurling James into the path of the other horses. His body jerked and rolled, spinning over the ground as horse after horse stumbled over him. Albert Hooper saw it happen and at the first chance, he wheeled round and raced back to James and dismounted on the run. Saracen squealed and tried to raise himself but both forelegs were broken, his splintered bones stabbing through his shredded skin.

Hooper examined James' lifeless form. After feeling his pulse, he walked to Saracen, and striding round the animal to the head, he gently patted the glistening black neck and stroked the foaming chest. "Easy Saracen... easy boy." The horse's ears twitched and his eyes rolled to the side, looking at Hooper intently, studying him. He squealed again and tried to move his shattered legs. "Calm down boy, good horse, you've served us proud," Hooper's voice was soft and his eyes moist. Captain Ludlow trotted over to join them with Sergeant Wrigley following. Ludlow spoke to Hooper without dismounting.

"There are bound to be casualties Corporal. Even in an exercise such as this. The main thing is the new horses have seen battle and heard firearms."

"This horse is finished Sarn't," said Hooper. "Shall I put him away Sarn't?"

Wrigley dismounted and glanced at Ludlow who said, "Well Tandey can't can he? Which horse was it?" 

"Saracen sir," said Wrigley.

"Damn! He was cannon proof. Why couldn't it be one of the new ones? Yes, carry on Corp'l." Ludlowe handed his revolver to Wrigley who passed it to Hooper. He sent the bullet into Saracen's brain between his ears. The sharp crack echoed across the fields and the animal twitched and jerked, its legs thrashed around spraying Hooper and Wrigley with blood.

Ludlow pointed to James, "How's that man? Is he alive?"

"Yes sir! He's unconscious but he's alive," said Hooper.

"Very good Corporal. I'll leave it with you Sarn't Wrigley."

"Yes sir," said the sergeant returning the revolver. Ludlow kicked his horse round and trotted away.

"Get the stretcher-bearers and get him back to the surgeon's tent right away Hooper."

"Yes Sarn't!"

"I thought I asked you to look after this boy!"

"There was nothing I could do Sarn't. Broken girth strap Sarn't. Sorry Sarn't."

Sergeant Wrigley nodded, "no excuse!  Damn fool mustn't have checked it properly!"

Two bandsmen arrived with the ambulance cart. After examining James briefly, they struggled to place his large frame on the stretcher, and heaved him up on to the back of the cart. Blood oozed from his ears and a clear fluid trickled from his nose.

"Shall I go with him sarn't?" said Hooper as the cart lurched forward.

"Yes Corp'l. Tell the surgeon what happened then rejoin us."

***