Текст книги "Fire and Sword"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

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Marshal Soult came riding up to Napoleon with a gleeful expression on his face as he pointed out the spectacle.

‘We have beaten them, sire! You have won a famous victory.’

‘Not quite yet,’ Napoleon replied in a grim tone, his eyes on the fleeing army. ‘We must make their defeat more crushing still, if we are to convince them to come to terms and end the war.’ He was silent for a moment before he turned to Soult. ‘Order your guns to open fire on those men.’

Soult stared at his Emperor for a moment and then responded quietly, ‘Sire, they are beaten. They can do us no harm.’

‘Not today. Not tomorrow, perhaps. But they will re-form soon enough, ready to face us again.We must remove that threat, Soult. Now carry out your orders, at once.’

Soult’s lips tightened into a thin line as he saluted and spurred his horse away from the Emperor towards the nearest of his batteries, which had ceased fire as the French infantry closed with any Austrian units that still offered resistance. As soon as the order was given Napoleon watched Soult move on to the next battery. Round shot howled over the heads of the Austrians streaming away from the battlefield. Thousands were slithering across the frozen lakes as the heavy iron balls fell around them, shattering the ice and pitching men, horses, gun carriages and cannon into the freezing water beneath. Many were carried under by the weight of their uniform and equipment, but the strongest flailed for purchase on the unstable chunks of ice, struggling for a while before the cold sapped their energy and they slid beneath the dark surface of the water to join their comrades. Napoleon watched in silence as his enemies drowned in their hundreds. It was a sickening sight, and he was tempted to order the guns to cease fire, but he reminded himself of the brutal necessity of breaking the enemy’s will to continue the fight. The more Austrians who perished in this battle the greater the chance of peace.

As the late afternoon sun angled down across the battlefield the guns and musket fire finally died away, and the quiet and stillness were strangely unsettling after the din of long hours of fighting. In the cool blue haze of a winter dusk Napoleon surveyed a landscape of bodies and wrecked guns and wagons. Smoke still swirled into the sky from buildings that had been set on fire during the fighting along the Goldbach stream. Most of the soldiers of the Grand Army sat on the ground, or leaned on their muskets as they looked on the devastation around them. Already the more opportunistic were walking amongst the heaps of enemy corpses looting the bodies of the dead, and finishing off any of the wounded who tried to resist their predations. Elsewhere thousands of Austrian prisoners were herded together under the watchful eyes of a screen of guards.

Napoleon bowed his head in a brief greeting as Soult rode up to him. ‘Congratulations, sire. A famous victory.’

‘It will be,’ Napoleon agreed. ‘Once Fouché applies a little pressure to the newspapers back in France.’

Soult chuckled at what he thought to be his Emperor’s self-deprecation. ‘A great victory by any measure, sire.’

‘We’ll know the measure soon enough.’ Napoleon gestured to the bloodied ground of the battlefield. ‘Have your men do a body count, then you send in your report to headquarters. I’m returning there now.’

‘Yes, sire.’

Napoleon could see that his sober tone had deflated Soult’s moment of triumph and he paused a moment before riding away. ‘You and your men were as gallant as any in the field today. Let them know that. And when I next have to call on them, I’ll be sure to grant them another triple issue of spirits.’

Soult laughed. ‘Thank you, sire. I will let them know.’

Napoleon spurred his horse into a gallop and crossed the Heights back to the village of Pratzen as darkness began to close in over the battlefield, hiding its horrors until the morning.The gloom was pricked with the fires being lit by the men of the Grand Army before they settled to sleep, exhausted by the day’s fighting and the fear and tension that had knotted their stomachs. There were a handful of the veterans of the Old Guard on duty around the army’s headquarters and they offered a cheer as the Emperor dismounted and entered the church. Inside, Napoleon found Berthier sitting at a trestle table making notes from the reports that had started to come in from all quarters of the battlefield.The chief of staff rose quickly to his feet and bowed.

‘Congratulations, sire.’

Napoleon waved aside any further words and cut in curtly, ‘What news from the left wing?’

‘Lannes and Murat have forced the Russians back. They are retreating towards Olmutz.’

‘Is Murat pursuing them?’

Berthier shook his head. ‘Marshal Murat reports that his cavalry are too weary to mount a pursuit, sire. Nearly all his force was committed today. His horses are blown.’

Napoleon was still for a moment as he thought. Crushing as his victory had been, the Russians might not have lost heavily enough to persuade them to consider peace. If they could only have been pursued and forced to abandon their artillery, if they had left behind a long tail of stragglers for Murat to deal with, then their spirit would have been utterly broken. Napoleon shrugged. ‘A pity. But then we are all tired.’

Thought of his men’s weariness served to remind the Emperor of his own exhaustion, and he could not help shivering for a moment. Berthier saw the tremor and his eyes widened in concern.

‘Sire, are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. I need some rest. Is there a bed in here?’

Berthier gestured to a small arched door opening on to a small cell. ‘In there, sire. A bunk belonging to the local priest.’

‘Good. I’ll sleep now. Wake me before the third hour. Have the reports ready to present to me then.’

‘Yes, sire.’

Napoleon wearily made his way into the priest’s humble sleeping quarters, where a single candle guttered in a bracket on the crudely plastered wall. There was a small table and stool, a cupboard, and the bed: a simple straw mattress covered in worn blankets. Napoleon undid the buttons of his greatcoat and spread it out on top, then sat down and pulled off his boots before easing himself under the blankets and laying his head on the rough hessian of the bolster. He was asleep almost as soon as he shut his eyes and Berthier smiled to himself as his master began to snore. Then he turned back to his reports and began calculating the cost of victory.

‘The enemy losses are over fifteen thousand killed; another twelve thousand are prisoners. In addition we have captured nearly two hundred cannon and fifty standards,’ Berthier read from the summary he had prepared.

Napoleon stretched his shoulders until he felt the muscles crack, then straightened his spine and clasped his hands firmly behind his back as he braced himself for the other side of the balance sheet. ‘And our losses?’

‘One thousand three hundred dead, six and a half thousand wounded and a few hundred taken prisoner.’

Napoleon breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. ‘Better than I had feared.’

‘Yes, sire.’

‘Very well, make provision for the wounded to be taken to Vienna. The prisoners can follow.They can be held there until the campaign is over. Now, I want you to issue orders for the army to re-form and be ready to march by noon.’

Berthier nodded and made a note. Outside, the first rays of dawn pierced the church windows with hazy orange shafts of light. Napoleon was grateful for the clear skies and cold air, which would aid his pursuit of the Russians. He was determined to drive them far to the east before the surviving Austrian forces could concentrate and re-join their allies.

The sound of hooves on cobbled stones came from outside the church and there was an excited challenge from one of the imperial guardsmen protecting headquarters. Napoleon glanced at one of Berthier’s clerks. ‘See what that is.’

While the man hurried off to do the Emperor’s bidding Napoleon sat down on one of the pews that lined the walls of the church and buried his face in his hands to rest his eyes for a moment. There was a brief exchange of voices in the street before the clerk returned, with another man.

‘Sire?’

Napoleon took a deep breath and puffed his cheeks as he sat up and regarded the clerk. Behind him stood Count Diebnitz.The Austrian was no longer scrupulously neat. His cheek was covered with bristles and his uniform was spattered with mud and there was a tear in one sleeve. He eyed Napoleon with a sullen, bitter expression.

‘Well, Count Diebnitz, I am glad that you survived yesterday’s encounter. Many of your countrymen did not, alas.’

Diebnitz’s nostrils flared angrily but he kept his mouth shut and reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded and sealed document.

Napoleon cocked an eyebrow at it. ‘What is that?’

‘A message, sir. From the Emperor of Austria.’

‘Tell me what it says,’ Napoleon continued wearily.‘I am a busy man, Count. Spare me the need to read it.’

Diebnitz swallowed his pride and lowered the document on to the pew beside Napoleon before he spoke. ‘His imperial majesty wishes to discuss an armistice.’

‘An armistice?’ Napoleon smiled thinly. ‘And why should I agree to one now, when I hold every advantage? Unless, of course, this is merely a preparatory step . . .’

He waited for the Austrian nobleman to get over his discomfort and come to the point.

Diebnitz spoke in a monotone. ‘His imperial majesty requests an armistice, in order to negotiate a peace agreement.’

‘Ah! I thought so.’ Napoleon smiled triumphantly. ‘Then you may tell the Emperor that I would be happy to discuss peace, on my terms.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Diebnitz bowed his head stiffly. ‘I will inform him at once.’

‘Wait.’ Napoleon narrowed his eyes as he stared at the Austrian. ‘Before you leave, you must know that there can be no peace while Russia is still your ally.’

‘Ally?’ Diebnitz sneered. ‘Our ally is in full retreat, towards Russia, sir.The Tsar has abandoned Austria to run and hide and lick his wounds. We have no ally, sir. Not any more. It would appear that your victory is complete.’

Napoleon nodded. ‘Yes, it would.You may go, Count Diebnitz.’

The Austrian bowed his head and turned to march out of the church. Napoleon waited until he was out of earshot before springing up and rushing over to clasp Berthier’s hand in delight.

‘It’s over then.The war is over.The coalition is humbled.’

‘Yes.’ Berthier grinned back. ‘A triumph for you, sire.’

‘Indeed, my friend. We have crushed our enemies,’ Napoleon said with relish. ‘I’d give a small fortune to see Prime Minister Pitt’s face when news of Austerlitz reaches him.’

Chapter 16

Arthur

London, February 1806

‘It was Austerlitz that killed him,’ said William as he leaned back in his chair and lowered his soup spoon. ‘It broke Pitt’s heart. He never recovered after hearing the news. Austerlitz changes everything.’

Arthur shook his head.‘Austerlitz changes nothing.We are still at war with France and the future peace of Europe can only be achieved if we defeat Bonaparte. Pitt knew that well enough and devoted his life to the prosecution of the war.’

‘Well, now Pitt is dead, and so is his grand alliance against France,’ William continued gravely. ‘Austria has been humbled, Prussia is too afraid to fight and the armies of Sweden and Russia have retreated back inside their national boundaries. Our new Prime Minister and his government are of a very different line to Pitt and his followers. More’s the pity.There are many men in Parliament who argue that now is the time to make peace with France.’

‘Then they are fools.’ Arthur reached for the decanter and topped up both their glasses.They were dining at William’s London house. Richard had been invited but had sent word that he was too ill to attend, so they had started eating without him. Arthur had only recently returned from the abortive attempt to land an army in Germany to march and join with the Russians and Austrians against the French Emperor. News of the crushing defeat at Austerlitz had reached the expeditionary force before it had even landed, and the transports and warships had been recalled to Britain. A frustrated Major-General Wellesley had returned to London to seek a new opportunity to serve his country on the battlefield. But the national mood was far from bellicose and he had been offered, and reluctantly accepted, command of a brigade based at Hastings.

It was over a month since William Pitt had died, his declining health given its death blow by the news of Austerlitz. The nation had marked his passing with solemn respect. Arthur knew the worth of the man who had given the best years of his life in the service of his nation. Not only had Pitt’s single-mindedness and administrative genius made it possible for Britain to counter the threat of France, but also he had made it possible for the powers of Europe to join the fight against the Republic, and the Corsican tyrant who usurped it.Vast sums of money, and convoys of supplies and equipment, had flowed to Britain’s allies thanks to Pitt’s vision. Now that he was dead, and Napoleon had crushed the alliance forged by Britain, the will to continue the fight was ebbing away swiftly, Arthur reflected sadly. The newspapers were filled with items bemoaning the continuation of a war that had yielded little in the nation’s interest and only served to deepen the national debt.The talk in the coffee houses was dominated by those who proclaimed the invincibility of Bonaparte.

There had been no obvious successor to Pitt.There were men with the ability to take on the responsibility of the office, Arthur mused, but none had sufficient support in Parliament to form a stable government. The mercurial Canning was not trusted by the political class, and Castlereagh was unpopular with the people. In the end it was Pitt’s cousin, Lord Grenville, who had emerged as a compromise candidate and persuaded the King to confer the position on him. But at a price. Gone were all the old friends and supporters of William Pitt and in their place was a mixed bag of politicians of all political persuasions. When Arthur attended a handful of debates in Parliament, the Whigs, who had opposed the war for many years, made smug speeches about the unnecessary cost in lives and bullion and demanded an end to the war. The so-called government of ‘all the talents’ even included the populist liberal Charles Fox. Arthur frowned.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked William, noting his brother’s expression. ‘Something wrong with the soup?’

‘No, it’s not the soup. I was just thinking about that scoundrel Fox. If Pitt could see it now he would groan in his grave. I can’t believe that Grenville would make such a man Foreign Secretary. Good God,’Arthur shook his head, ‘Fox betrayed us to the rebels of the American colonies, and I’ve even heard people mutter that he is in the pay of Talleyrand.’

‘You should not believe everything you hear, Arthur, but I agree with you that Fox holds some questionable views.’

‘Questionable!’ Arthur’s eyes widened. ‘You’ve heard the man often enough in Parliament. Time and again he has spoken out against the war. And now he would even have us open peace negotiations with France! He would dishonour all that we have sacrificed over the years.’

William shrugged. ‘Charles Fox is a political animal, Arthur. As such he is a pragmatist, and a weathervane in the cross-currents of popular opinion. He knows that the people are weary of war and desire peace, so much that they would even treat with the Corsican tyrant himself. So Fox will use every ounce of his charm to persuade Grenville to open negotiations with Talleyrand.’

‘God help us,’ Arthur responded bitterly. ‘Is the man so foolish that he thinks he can persuade Bonaparte to agree to terms that are remotely in the interests of Britain?’

‘His position is a little more subtle than you think.’ William spoke evenly as he raised his glass and sipped it contemplatively. ‘Consider for a moment the question of Napoleon’s primary virtue.’

‘Virtue?’ Arthur smiled thinly. ‘There! You have me already, brother, for I cannot think of a single virtue pertaining to Bonaparte.’

William sighed irritably. ‘Indulge me, then. Let us suppose that Napoleon’s ability finds its truest expression in the art of war.Would you agree with me on that at least?’

Arthur considered this for a moment and then nodded.‘For the sake of argument.’

‘I do not see how you can deny it, Arthur. He has defeated his enemies comprehensively, and, indeed, seems to relish the substance and trappings of a martial existence. All of Europe, and many of our own countrymen, regard the French Emperor as the greatest commander of the age. Now, whether you agree with that or not is immaterial. The point is that Fox believes it. So, being the shrewd thinker that he is,’ William laced his words with irony, ‘the Foreign Secretary has concluded that the best way to frustrate our enemy is to deny him that which he craves above all things, namely war. To which end Fox has persuaded Grenville to allow him to approach Talleyrand with some preliminary proposals for a lasting peace.’

Arthur had lowered his glass as his brother spoke and now stared at him across the table. ‘Good God . . . Do you have any detail on these proposals?’

‘Oh, yes.’ William smiled. ‘Fox was good enough to discuss his ideas when I met him in the House earlier this week.’

‘You met him? Why?’

‘I wanted to discuss the prospect of finding you a seat in Parliament.’

‘Parliament?’ Arthur’s eyebrows rose. ‘Why would I want such a thing? I am a blunt soldier. I lack the necessary tact and guile to be a politician.’

‘Come now, Arthur, false modesty is a vice, not a virtue.You are as capable of being a politician as any man, and besides, I dare say that a bit of blunt speaking would be a welcome change in the House. I must talk to some people and see what I can do.’

Arthur stared at his brother for a moment before shaking his head. ‘I’d rather not, all the same. I had my fill of politics back in the Irish Parliament.’

‘Ah, but you were nothing then,’ said William, and then waved a hand in apology as he saw his brother’s expression darken. ‘I mean no offence. But then you were young and inexperienced, with little achievement to your credit. Now, you are Sir Arthur Wellesley, hero of Assaye. Your voice would count and you would be able to influence events. Besides,’ William’s tone became more serious, ‘our brother Richard needs all the friends he can get in the House. His political future is at stake, and that of our family.Without influence, Arthur, what hope have you of being given any worthwhile military appointment? Do you know how many major-generals there are on the army list? One hundred and forty-eight, and the majority of them are senior to you. That is why you have been assigned to that tedious backwater down in Hastings.’

Arthur laughed lightly. ‘You have done your homework, William. At least the Hastings command keeps me on the active list.’

‘Really? I wonder just how active a soldier can be in such a place. I imagine the gravest danger one must face is being pelted with guano by the seagulls.’William sat back with a brief sigh and folded his hands over his stomach.‘You will need political friends if you are to rise to important military commands. Now then, I have arranged a quiet meeting with Grenville and Fox. Primarily as an opportunity for Richard to see them and put his case in private before he is exposed to the full rigour of parliamentary examination. If you come with me as well, as a prospective member of the House, it will add strength to our cause. Besides, I think you will have something to say on the matter of Fox’s peace proposals that it might do him good to hear.’

Arthur listened wearily. In truth, he accepted that William was right. The plain fact of it was that no man ever rose to prominence purely by his own efforts and abilities. It seemed that to become a successful general one must also become something of a successful politician as well. He nodded. ‘Very well, I’ll come.’

William had arranged for the meeting to take place in a private dining room in one of the gentlemen’s clubs off Park Lane. Crauford’s was a club favoured by clients with an interest in card games, and when Arthur entered on the stroke of nine in the evening and gave his name to a footman he was ushered through a room containing half a dozen tables at which men were playing whist. Their concentration was absolute. Not one looked up as Arthur passed by, and he realised why his brother had chosen this club for the encounter between the three Wellesley brothers and the two most powerful men in the government. Beyond the card room was a short corridor with two rooms leading off each side.The footman opened the second door on the right and bowed his head as Arthur stepped inside, then closed the door behind him.The others were already seated at the end of a long dining table, which was bare save for a large decanter of port and the glasses set out for the guests.The other four men were already seated.

‘Arthur, delighted you could join us.’William smiled.‘Do take a seat.’

Arthur glanced at his brothers as he strode round the table.William appeared to be his usual robust self, but Richard was as wan and pale as when he had returned from India and looked to be in poor health as he rested his chin on the knuckles of one hand and steadily regarded the two men on the other side of the table.Arthur knew both Grenville and Fox by sight, having seen them both in parliamentary debates and at social events. Grenville was tall and slender but Fox was by far the more arresting of the two. Tall, broad-shouldered and rotund, he had a jowly, good-humoured face and his eyes sparkled with energy. He returned Arthur’s gaze with an intense searching look and then rose and offered his hand as Arthur approached.

‘Ah! One of the younger brothers of the Wellesley family!’

‘Yes, sir.’ Arthur shook his hand, returning the powerful grip with a tightening of his own fist, until he sensed the other man slacken his hold and release his hand. Arthur turned to Grenville, who had risen to his feet a moment after Fox. ‘Prime Minister.’ Arthur bowed his head respectfully. ‘My condolences on the loss of your cousin. Mr Pitt was a fine man.’

‘My loss is the nation’s loss, Sir Arthur. Make no mistake about that.’ Grenville nodded sadly. ‘But we must move on, and take full advantage of the stable condition in which my brother left our nation.’

‘Stable condition?’ Fox chuckled. ‘I hardly think such a vast mountain of public debt and a state of war with the most powerful nation in Europe constitutes stability.’

Grenville turned to his companion with an irritated air.‘Pitt’s legacy is that he saved us from revolution and defeat. I think that is more than enough justification for describing Britain as stable.’

‘If you say so.’ Fox chuckled. ‘Although some of my friends in the House might disagree.’

‘And we must always consider the views of your friends,’ Grenville responded in an acid tone.

The two men stared at each other for a brief moment, and Arthur wondered how such a political partnership could work. In Britain’s present rudderless state perhaps such compromises were inevitable.

Fox cleared his throat. ‘This is a free country, and a man should be free to speak his mind. After all, those are the values that we are fighting for, or so it appears to me.’

Richard’s sickly white face seemed to drain of the very lost drop of blood. When he spoke, it was in a cold, hostile tone. ‘I do not need any lectures on freedom from a man who has been in open communication with the very nation that is determined to end the liberties enjoyed by every man in Britain.’

There was a faint smile on Fox’s lips, but he replied with a hard edge to his voice.‘That is hearsay and rumour, and you would be well advised not to repeat such scurrilous untruths.’

Arthur tapped his finger on the table and interrupted. ‘And yet you would have us negotiate peace with France, if I understand correctly?’ He glanced at Grenville, who nodded.

‘Times change,’ Fox continued. ‘What might once have been considered a lack of blind patriotism might now be seen as the best hope for Britain, under the present circumstances.’

‘Circumstances change,’ Arthur responded.‘Bonaparte’s enemies will not long tolerate his power over Europe. Equally, I doubt whether he would tolerate a prolonged peace. Bonaparte will always want more territory, more power and more glory. He needs these things as other men need food and water. Unless Britain is prepared to continue submitting to his demands, however humiliating, there will be further wars.You cannot appease such a despot for ever, Mr Fox.’

‘You may have a point, young man. But try telling that to the merchants of this country who increasingly find themselves closed off from continental markets. Try telling it to the hungry mobs of unemployed in our great industrial cities whose jobs have gone as trade has withered.Try telling it to those countless families up and down this land whose sons and fathers have been killed in the wars against France, or have come home crippled by wounds and incapable of earning a crust. Do you really think they will rejoice at the prospect of war unending?’

‘No one is asking them to rejoice.And the war will end, the moment France is free of Bonaparte.’

Fox suddenly sat back in his chair and took a swift draught of port from his glass. Then he looked closely at Arthur. ‘It’s peculiar that you should say that.’

‘Really? Why, sir?’

‘I was approached by a French dissident earlier this week, who had come to London in secret in order to present me with a plan to assassinate his Emperor.’

‘Good God!’ Grenville stared at his Foreign Secretary. ‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’

‘You are a busy man, Prime Minister. The fellow’s plan seemed madcap when he broached it, and he needs a large sum, in gold, to pay the assassin. So I declined the offer. Moreover, I decided to inform my opposite number in Paris of his countryman’s plan.’

‘You would reveal this to Talleyrand?’ Richard could not hide his amazement.‘By God, why would you do such a thing? This Frenchman and his agent would be caught and killed.Would you have that on your conscience?’

‘No more than I would the killing of an emperor. Considerably less, in fact. Besides, you are missing the point. By exposing this conspiracy we could demonstrate our good faith to Talleyrand, and, through him, to Napoleon. It would surely help our attempt to open peace negotiations. In any case, the argument is academic. I have already sent a message to Talleyrand to warn him of the plot.’

There was silence in the room as the others took this in and showed their surprise, and some disgust. Grenville was the first to recover and he turned fully towards Fox and glared. ‘You go too far, sir. The dissident’s approach to you should have been reported to me directly. The decision as to whether to back the man, or turn him down, was not yours to make.’

‘It was a foreign policy issue, sir, and therefore well within the responsibilities of my office.’

‘That is enough! You should have discussed this with the Cabinet, or me at the very least. In future, I demand that you report any further such activity to me directly. Understand?’

‘Yes, Prime Minister. I understand.’ Fox smiled faintly, then suddenly reached down and examined his pocket watch in the candlelight. ‘Ah, I’m afraid I must beg your pardon and leave you, gentlemen. I have a prior engagement. I am taking my wife to a late recital.’

‘A recital?’ Grenville gently stroked his frown-streaked brow. ‘Don’t you think this meeting is more important than a recital?’

‘In truth? No. A man who neglects his wife is no man at all, sir. So I must go. Gentlemen.’ Fox stood up and bowed his head to each of the brothers on the opposite side of the table. ‘I will leave you to your politics, then. Good night.’

He clasped his hands together, stretched his back and strode towards the door. ‘I’m sure I will be seeing you all again soon. Especially the Wellesleys, who will have to face some tough questions in the House if I am any judge of my own supporters. Once again, good night, gentlemen.’

Taking his cape and hat from the stand, Fox opened the door and left the room.The others stared after him as the door clicked shut. Richard let out a low dry laugh and was the first to speak.

‘Well, Grenville, it appears that you have your work cut out for you with that man. I should not like to work alongside him.’

‘You can’t begin to imagine . . .’ muttered the Prime Minister. ‘But on one thing he is right.There is no avoiding the need to have him in government. At least it keeps his supporters relatively quiet. It is both a pity and a paradox that Fox is less of a danger inside the Cabinet than without.’

‘I wonder,’ Richard mused.‘If only there was a dissident Englishman in Paris with the desire to assassinate a member of our government. If the frogs wouldn’t back him I’d certainly invest in an attempt on Fox’s life.’

Grenville stared at him for a moment. ‘I fear that you have imbibed too many uncivilised values during your time in India, Mornington.’

Richard shrugged. ‘It was just a thought. Besides, I know full well that Fox and his friends are behind the corruption allegations levelled at me.’

The Prime Minister casually clasped his hands together as he composed his reply. ‘I will, naturally, do my best to protect you, and the interests of your family.After all, my late cousin held you in high esteem and greatly valued your service to our nation. However, you must understand that I can only shield you so far.This government hangs by a thread and has to be sensitive to every shift in opinion, within Parliament, at Windsor and in the streets.’

‘I thank you most humbly for your reassurance,’ Richard sneered.

‘Mornington, you must understand. I act as I have to for the good of the country. If it is in the country’s interest that you are forced to endure the attacks of Fox and his associates, then you must accept it.’