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Chapter 986: Who Is the Real Enemy?

Although Igor had been frightened out of his wits the previous night, his loyalty to his fellow villagers prevailed. Ignoring Tarente's "warnings," he had risked returning to the village to report the incident to the most prestigious man in the area, Master Barmelo.

Of course, the people they had encountered the night before were not actually villagers from Huca, but "actors" from the Security Bureau.

As for the buried bodies, they were members of the British-Portuguese Allied Forces who had been killed by Junot on the northern bank of the Mondego River not long ago. The bullet holes in the corpses were of no concern; they were simply explained away as "villagers shot by the British soldiers overseeing the relocation."

A few hours later, the men sent by Barmelo and Calhova carefully unearthed the bodies Igor had described. Sure enough, they found four men dressed in peasant garb.

That afternoon, more than a dozen of Nehabe Village's most prominent figures gathered in Barmelo's home, their faces grim.

"That is how it stands," Barmelo declared. "Clearly, the rumors are true."

"The question now is not whether we will receive compensation once we reach Lisbon," he continued, "but whether we will even make it there alive."

The Security Bureau had begun spreading word that "the British intend to destroy Portugal" over a month ago. A minor noble like Barmelo had naturally heard some of these whispers.

Now, those whispers were being confirmed by the evidence before his eyes.

"Whatever happens, we cannot leave the village," Barmelo said, gritting his teeth. "And we certainly cannot burn this place down. If we lose the village, the British will be free to dispose of us as they please."

"But Master Matos has brought soldiers with him..."

Recalling the words of the "Huca villager" from the previous night, Igor shouted, "We have guns! We can drive them away!"

Everyone in the room turned to look at him in surprise.

Barmelo pondered for a moment before speaking. "It hasn't come to that quite yet. However... Mr. Calhova, you should have everyone get their weapons ready."

"We will spread the news of what happened here," Barmelo added. "People in other villages surely won't want to relocate either. Once that happens, those officials won't be able to target just us."

In truth, he wasn't particularly worried about the military force the official had brought—there were only five soldiers in their village. Even without guns, they had ways to deal with them.

Furthermore, Portugal was a land of mountains, and almost every village possessed a large number of firearms used for hunting.

Though most were old matchlock muskets, they could easily overwhelm those five soldiers with sheer numbers.

Under the organization of Barmelo and the others, the relocation work in Nehabe Village ground to a halt. When the scheduled day to head south arrived, not a single household showed up at the designated gathering point outside the village.

The fuel intended for burning the village had been stolen by someone during the night. Matos gave the village chief a fierce scolding, but he was utterly powerless to change the situation.

Two days later, the messengers sent to other villages began to return, bringing even more shocking news.

People in at least five or six other villages had witnessed British soldiers murdering relocating villagers. The Security Bureau had mobilized nearly every Spanish spy operating in Portugal for this operation, and most towns and villages had been subjected to "scripts" similar to the one Tarente had performed.

As more and more evidence surfaced, the people of Nehabe Village became even more convinced that "leaving the village meant death."

At the same time, other villages were in full agreement with Barmelo's suggestion to form a united front against the relocation. In an instant, Wellesley's scorched-earth policy was brought to a total standstill.

Of course, there were clever men in these villages, just like Barmelo.

He suggested sending people toward Lisbon to scout the situation and see if things were truly as dire as the rumors suggested.

This, however, played right into Joseph's hands.

With Portugal's administrative capacity in this era, how could they possibly settle hundreds of thousands of displaced people properly?

If they gave you a patch of dirt to pitch a tent, you were lucky; as for relief grain, it was sporadic at best. After all, the nobles of this era did not view the peasantry as human beings.

Those who had initially fled from the area around Porto to Lisbon were barely clinging to life, existing in utter misery. At this point, no matter who asked if they regretted leaving their homes, the answer was invariably a string of curses directed at the British and the nobility.

Furthermore, pamphlets brought in from France were already circulating among the "immigrants." One titled "We Die for the King's War, but Does the King Care for Us?" had struck a deep chord with the people.

Driven by this sentiment, the scouts from Nehabe Village heard nothing but stories of blood and tears from the relocation route. It was impossible to march from northern to southern Portugal without casualties. Many had also starved to death in Lisbon. These tragedies were repeatedly exaggerated and recounted to the scouts.

Normally, if no one spoke up, such matters would be swept under the rug. But if one looked closely, they were major grievances involving the loss of many lives.

By the time the news returned, the towns and villages around Coimbra were more determined than ever to stay put.

Meanwhile, the Spanish foraging parties that occasionally appeared in the villages had become remarkably "civilized." They not only paid the full market price for grain but even spoke to the people in kind Portuguese.

It should be noted that one of the core reasons the Portuguese had fiercely resisted the Spanish over a century ago was the latter's attempt to force them to speak Spanish.

In addition, the Spanish army brought with them an edict from Carlos IV. It declared that the Portuguese regions already under Spanish control would be granted high autonomy. Localities would elect their own parliaments, and all taxes had to be approved by those parliaments.

This didn't look like an occupying army at all; it seemed as though they had come to help the Portuguese resist tyranny!

This was precisely the suggestion Joseph had made in his previous letter to Carlos IV. For Spain, the most desired prizes were the ports of Lisbon and Bordeaux, along with Gibraltar.

As for the meager tax revenue from the Portuguese mountains, it wasn't exactly a pittance, but it wasn't much either. It was far better to use it to earn the favor of the local population.

Moreover, a local parliament wouldn't refuse to pay any taxes at all to their rulers. Spain could still reap some benefits, which was far better than being harassed by guerrillas all day long.

What Joseph hadn't expected was that this policy received enthusiastic support from the Portuguese Liberals.

These people had been suppressed by the Portuguese royal family for decades and had never been able to gain traction. Now, they saw a glimmer of hope with the arrival of the Spanish.

Suddenly, the Liberals began actively maintaining local stability and organizing parliamentary elections.

Inside the city of Coimbra.

Wellesley looked at the scorched-earth progress report submitted by his subordinates, his expression darkening.

Prince Regent João's decree had been issued a month and a half ago, yet within a ninety-kilometer radius of Coimbra, only four villages had "disappeared."

It was no wonder the Franco-Spanish offensive had become increasingly fierce of late. At this rate, Coimbra could fall at any moment.

After a long period of reflection, he summoned Colonel Hill and gave his orders. "Lead eight hundred cavalry yourself to oversee the relocation of the Portuguese. If you encounter anyone who refuses to cooperate, you are authorized to execute them on the spot."