Текст книги "Fire and Sword"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 44 страниц)

‘By God, you are wrong, sir. Quite wrong,’Arthur snapped.‘How can the Navy defeat Bonaparte? To be sure, Admiral Nelson can defeat his warships, but he can only pursue the French as far as their coast. And from there on, wherever there is solid ground, Bonaparte can defy his enemies. So it follows that the war between Britain and France can only be decided on land.When the time is right our soldiers will fight on the soil of Europe and there they will prove that they are more than a match for the very best of Napoleon’s men. Mark my words, sir.You will see the day.’

‘I hope so, sir. Sincerely I do. But that depends on our government’s being prepared to land a force large enough to make a difference.’

Arthur nodded. ‘And to keep it adequately supplied and reinforced when necessary. You are right, sir. The government has so far declined to commit to such an investment of its military power. But that will change. There are men with vision at Westminster. Men who can be persuaded to take the bold course.’

‘Who will persuade them, sir? Most of our generals seem to be the very fount of caution and, dare I say it, indecision.’

‘Then it will be down to men like myself to make the case for action.’

Jardine smiled.‘Pardon me, sir, but what makes you think that young officers will carry much weight in this affair?’

‘Because I shall speak the truth. I shall present the facts clearly and logically so that there can be no doubt as to the correct path to take.’

‘Ah, but you speak as a soldier. Those in Westminster are inclined to speak and listen as politicians. Facts and logic are as clay to their minds; soft and infinitely malleable. I fear you overestimate the influence of reason on such men.’

Arthur was quiet and still for a moment before he shrugged. ‘We shall see.’ He picked up the newspaper again. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, sir, I would like to finish this before the journey is over.’

Jardine nodded briefly and turned to look out of the window with a slight pout of piqued disapproval.

The coach soon emerged from the trees and entered the first of the villages that were slowly being swallowed up and overwhelmed by the sprawling capital. The cottages and small shops gradually gave way to dense housing that rose up on either side, crowding the cobbled streets. Occasionally the coach passed workhouses and the premises of small industries from whose chimneys smoke belched into the sky, adding to the brown pall hanging over London. At length they arrived at the yard of the coach station in Chelsea, and after a curt farewell to Mr Jardine Arthur tipped a porter to carry his travel case to one of the cabs waiting out in the street. The rest of his baggage was in the hold of the Indiaman and would be sent on to London as soon as it was unloaded.

‘Cavendish Square, if you please,’ Arthur called up to the cabby as he climbed aboard and pulled the small door to.

‘Aye, sir!’ The cabby nodded, and then flicked the reins, urging his horse forward. The cab rattled out into the traffic passing along the crowded thoroughfare. At once Arthur was struck by the stark difference between the streets of London and those he had become used to in India.As a boy, his family had mostly lived in the countryside of Ireland, and Arthur had been horrified by the squalor and the smoky, sweaty odours of Dublin and then London. But he had quickly become used to them, just as he had become used to the appalling poverty and stench of the primitive slums of Indian cities. Now he measured London by a new standard and marvelled at the obvious wealth of the capital and the fine facades it presented to the paved and cobbled streets.

As the cab turned into Cavendish Square, Arthur’s mind turned to his family. The house that his mother rented was in a street off the square. It was modest by the standards of the aristocracy, but Anne Wellesley had been saddled with debts after her husband had died and what little was left of her private fortune was supplemented by loans from her sons. Arthur wondered what kind of greeting she would offer him after an absence of a decade.They had not parted on good terms, mostly because they had never been on good terms. She had regarded Arthur as the least able, and most indolent, of her sons, and had always been cold with him. Now that he was a major-general and the hero of Assaye he wondered if his stock with her might have risen. Would she now embrace him and hold him in the same regard as Richard,William and Henry?

Arthur rapped the side of the cab and called to the driver. ‘Stop here!’

The cab pulled up and Arthur stepped out on to the street in front of his mother’s house, straightening his jacket as he waited for the driver to bring his travelling case down from the roof. Then, taking a deep breath, he climbed the steps and rapped the brass knocker sharply.There was a short delay before he heard footsteps inside and the door opened to reveal a footman.

‘Yes, sir?’

‘I am Arthur Wellesley. Is my mother at home?’

The footman scrutinised his face for a moment before he nodded and stood aside.

‘Yes, Sir Arthur, my lady is at home. If you would care to wait in the front parlour I will see to your luggage and inform Lady Mornington of your arrival.’

Arthur nodded, paid off the cab driver, and made for the parlour as the footman brought his bags in.The floor of the parlour was carpeted and the furniture was neat and expensive. Clearly his mother had done well out of her sons’ improved financial standing, Arthur mused. He took a seat and glanced round the walls. Above the fireplace were a series of small portraits of his brothers and sister, beneath a larger picture of his father, but no picture of Arthur.

Before his thoughts could become more melancholy, the door opened and his mother stepped into the room.Anne Wellesley was more gaunt than he recalled.Ten years had hardened the lines in her face and her bright eyes had sunk a little further into their sockets. She stood and examined him in turn.

‘You don’t look well,’ she said abruptly. ‘Your hair is cropped too close and your complexion is altogether too common and ruddy, as if you had been working the fields alongside common labourers.’

Arthur smiled faintly as he rose to his feet.‘It’s good to see you again too, Mother.’ He crossed the room and leaned forward to kiss the cheek she offered him. She forced a smile and took his hand.

‘It has been a long time, Arthur. Too long, perhaps.You did not write to me very often.’ Her tone was hurt, or affected to be hurt, Arthur thought.

‘You hardly wrote to me either, Mother.’

‘I was busy.A mother has to spend her time watching over her whole family. I did not have time to write in detail to every one of my children.’

It was a lame excuse and Arthur felt his heart harden a little.Ten years appeared to have changed very little between them. She gestured to the two seats opposite the fireplace. ‘Sit down. I have asked for tea to be served to us. I expect you will want to stay here for some time, while you find your feet in London.’

‘Yes, Mother. If that would not be too much of an imposition.’

‘Of course not,’ she shot back.‘And now that you are here I will send word to William and the others to let them know you have returned. They will want to see you again.’

‘And I them.’

‘Yes, I am sure you will have plenty of tales to relate of your adventures amongst the savages.You and Richard may have had a high time of it in India, but you have stirred up a veritable wasps’ nest of criticism back here in London.’

‘I gathered something of it from the newspapers I read on the voyage back.’

‘It seems that not everyone is appreciative of your efforts on behalf of the nation. The East India Company is furious over the cost of Richard’s wars in the subcontinent.’

‘War is an expensive business.’

‘Perhaps, but there are men in Parliament who say that Britain needs every penny just to continue the fight here in Europe.’ She pursed her lips. ‘It doesn’t help Richard’s case that he is reported to have been lavishing every luxury on himself out of the public purse.’

‘If that’s all they are saying I am not unduly concerned.’ Arthur shrugged. ‘Some people are envious, others are malicious and the rest are merely ill-informed. I shall make the case on Richard’s behalf until he gets back.’

‘Well, you had better make a better go of it than William has managed thus far. At times it has been as if Parliament was a pack of hounds baying for the blood of our family. Speaking of which, there was a message for you this morning, from the Colonial Office in Downing Street.You are required to attend Lord Castlereagh’s office at your earliest convenience. It seems that news of your arrival preceded you.’

‘By God, that was quick. Word must have been sent the moment I landed.’

‘Then the powers that be are wasting no time in calling you to account.’ Lady Mornington leaned forward. ‘Be careful, Arthur.You are a soldier amongst politicians.You are out of your league. Do nothing to embarrass the fortunes of the family.’

Arthur stared at her for a moment, his heart filled with bitterness at her obvious disregard for his qualities. He swallowed and replied tersely, ‘I will not discredit the name of Wellesley, Mother. I never have. And I never will, and I pray that we both live to see the day when you regard me with pride.’

Anne Wellesley smiled faintly.‘I hope so. Now, you’d better go. Don’t make a hash of it.’

Chapter 5

In Downing Street, Arthur made directly for the office of Lord Castlereagh, Secretary of State for War and the Colonies. Arthur was surprised to find that his heart was beating fast and that he felt apprehensive over the coming interrogation, assuming that was the reason for his summons. It was strange, he thought, how he had faced shot and shell on the battlefield with less trepidation. Or was it that he had been so acutely focused on his duties as commander that there was no time for fear? Arthur had long since mastered the art of hiding his emotions, and he did so now when he approached the clerk seated at the large desk in the main hall of the Colonial Office.

‘May I help you, sir?’ asked the clerk, rising to his feet.

‘Indeed. I have been asked to attend Lord Castlereagh.’

‘Your name, sir?’

‘Major-General Sir Arthur Wellesley.’

‘Ah yes, you are expected, sir. Please follow me.’The clerk led the way up the stairs and along a narrow panelled corridor, passing several other hurrying officials and stopping outside an open door. ‘If you would be so kind as to wait in here, sir, until his lordship is ready to see you.’

Arthur nodded and entered the anteroom. It was modestly sized, with a number of chairs and small tables arranged around the walls. A large window looked out on to Downing Street. There was only one other occupant, a slight naval officer, somewhat shorter than Arthur, who was sitting half turned away as he read an article in the newspaper spread across the table in front of him. From the heavy gold epaulettes and the ribbons and stars on his left breast Arthur knew he must be a senior officer. He did not look up as Arthur entered the room and took a seat a short distance away. Only when he had finished reading the article did he raise his eyes to examine the new arrival. His left eye was a brilliant blue and his features were sharp and sensitive, making him look much younger than his fine grey hair seemed to indicate. His right eye, by contrast, was dull and empty-looking and Arthur realised that there was no sight in it. Then he noticed that the naval officer’s right sleeve was empty and pinned to his coat, and with a flash of surprise he realised who the man must be.

‘Lord Nelson, it is a pleasure to meet you, sir.’

‘I’m sure.’ Nelson gave him a friendly smile.‘And might I know who you are, sir?’

‘Arthur Wellesley, sir. Major-General Sir Arthur Wellesley.’ Arthur could not help smiling back as he crossed the room and instinctively offered his hand in greeting. Then he drew up in embarrassment as Nelson glanced meaningfully at his empty sleeve and chuckled.

‘I’m sorry, Sir Arthur, you’ll have to pardon my rudeness, but I lack the wherewithal to shake your hand. Ah, but I see that I have discomfited you. I am sorry. Do take a seat so that we may talk.’ He gestured to the chair opposite with his surviving hand and Arthur sat down gratefully.

‘So what are you here for,Wellesley? Come to see Castlereagh?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

Nelson gestured at his face. ‘Seems you have spent some time in the sun. Jamaica?’

‘India. I returned a few days ago.’

‘India.’ Nelson nodded. ‘Bit out of my way. Can’t say I know much about our affairs in that part of the world. But I’m sure you’ve acquitted yourself capably, Wellesley.’ He frowned for a moment before nodding to himself.‘Ah, I have it now.Wellesley! Richard Wellesley is, or was, the Governor General.You must be related to him.’

‘He is my brother.’

‘So you were there helping him out in some capacity, no doubt. On his staff ?’

‘No, my lord. My brother Henry was his private secretary. I served with the army. In the field.’

‘Quite a family affair, then. It must have been helpful for your brother to have two siblings to carry out his instructions.’

Arthur winced at the implied diminution of his achievements. ‘The Governor General decided the policy. I was responsible for our forces on the ground.’

‘Quite so.’ Nelson nodded. ‘And I’m sure you served him well, Sir Arthur.’

‘I did,’ Arthur replied tersely. ‘And with a degree of success.’

‘Good. That’s good.’ Nelson regarded him for a moment and then tapped the newspaper he had been reading.

‘Exciting times, Wellesley. The French fleet is at Cadiz, our ships are massing for the big effort and all Britain wonders what my plan of action will be.You too, I’ll be bound.’

Arthur was a little surprised at the direct display of the other man’s sense of his own importance, but there was no denying that he was keen to know how Nelson intended to beat the French. He nodded.

Nelson’s good eye glinted with pleasure as he leaned back and began. ‘The trick of it, as I’ve always known, is to confound the expectations of the enemy. The thing is that the French have held fast to the old ways of fighting and assume that our line and theirs will sail up and down, parallel to each other, pounding away until the will of one side breaks. I have to confess that our admirals were equally culpable of a lack of initiative until the Battle of St Vincent, when I pulled out of our column and cut their line. Allowed our fleet to defeat them in detail. I did the same again at the Nile.That’s the trick of it: break their line and destroy a division at a time. So we’ll do the same again when we encounter Admiral Villeneuve, and as long as they come on in the same old way we’ll defeat them sure enough.’

‘Most interesting.’ Arthur nodded. ‘But surely, if you approach their line in column, they will be able to bring far more guns against you than you can reply with. At least until you reach their line.’

‘A fair point,’ Nelson conceded. ‘But with French gunnery being what it is, and the stout-heartedness and good training of our men being equal to the occasion, we will prevail. I am certain of it. Certain enough to command my fleet from the first ship in our column.Where I lead, my men will always follow, Sir Arthur,’ he added with a glint of pride in his good eye. ‘They are devoted to me.’

Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘Speaking for myself, I would prefer my men to be well trained and confident rather than devoted.’

‘Perhaps you would, Sir Arthur. But when you have led men as long as I have, and won great victories, then the devotion of one’s subordinates is as inevitable as it is useful. I am sure you will discover that for yourself in time, when you become more experienced.’

Arthur regarded the admiral coolly. ‘I have already acquired a measure of experience, sir, and won my own victories, and I think I managed to understand my men well enough.’

‘Ah, yes.’ Nelson stared at the younger officer with a faint look of surprise. ‘I am sure you are indeed a most competent officer. Do please excuse me for a moment.’

He rose abruptly and strode from the room, leaving Arthur tight-lipped and tense as he took up the newspaper and made himself read some of the small articles surrounding the hagiography that had fed the admiral’s conceit. He could hear Nelson in conversation with someone out in the corridor, but their voices were low and the sounds of echoing footsteps from passing clerks made it impossible for Arthur to make out any words. A moment later the admiral returned and took his seat opposite Arthur. He was silent for a moment before he leaned forward.

‘I now recall why your name seemed familiar to me a moment ago.’

Arthur looked up and raised his eyebrows enquiringly. ‘Indeed?’

‘Yes. You are the hero of Assaye and the victor of Argaum, are you not?’

‘Hero?’ Arthur smiled.‘I’m not so sure about that, my lord. But I had the privilege of commanding the men who won those victories.’

‘And noble victories they were!’ Nelson leaned forward with an eager expression. ‘I read of them a while back. It was hard to fit such singular achievements to a man of your age. My word, it must have been a daunting affair to take on such odds as you faced at Assaye, Sir Arthur.’ He nodded admiringly. ‘Strikes me that we have something in common. The desire to take the fight directly to the enemy, without delay.’

‘It seemed to be the most provident course, my lord. If one does not strike the enemy where one finds him, then the initiative is immediately lost.’

‘Quite so! But that philosophy is shared by all too few of our military leaders, not to mention our politicians.They seem to hold to the notion that French power can be whittled away and worn down.They do not understand the nature of the foe. Emperor Napoleon is a new kind of leader. He has no comprehension of the balance of power that has maintained order across the continent in the past. He does not see himself as a member of the council of European rulers, as it were. Napoleon recognises no one as his equal. His sole ambition in this world is to win glory and gain control over all others. He will not rest until he can exercise his will without limit. So we must not rest until he is defeated absolutely. That is what our credo must be, Sir Arthur. A sentiment I feel that you might share.’

‘I do, my lord.’

Arthur felt himself warming to the admiral, despite the overbearing self-regard that had spoiled his initial impression of the other man. It was clear that Nelson was well aware of the high stakes in the war against France and the need to see it through whatever sacrifices that entailed.

Arthur continued. ‘The problem is that too few of our countrymen are aware of the danger. With Pitt back in power, that may change.’

Nelson’s excited expression faded. ‘Yes, thank God for Pitt. But have you seen the man lately? He looks old and drawn. I fear the burden of steering our people through this conflict has broken him. I doubt he will survive to see the victory to which he has contributed so much.’

‘You are certain we will win?’

‘How can we not win, when there are men like you and me to command our forces on land and sea?’ Nelson suddenly laughed. ‘If you’ll pardon the poor couplet.’

Arthur smiled and a moment later a clerk entered the room and bowed his head briefly. ‘My lord?’

‘Yes.’ Nelson rapidly reined in his high spirits. ‘What is it?’

‘Lord Castlereagh will see you now.’

‘Thank you.’ Nelson rose from his seat, and Arthur stood up and paused an instant before offering his left hand. The admiral grasped it firmly and smiled. ‘It was damned fine to meet you, Sir Arthur. I’m sure we shall meet again in less pressing times. I’ll be certain to look you up when I return from beating Monsieur Villeneuve.’

‘I will look forward to it, my lord.’

Nelson nodded, still holding Arthur’s hand. ‘God go with you, Wellesley. Britain needs men like you. Now more than ever.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Nelson gave his hand a final squeeze, then let go and turned to leave the room. When he was gone Arthur sat down again and stared out of the window. The glass had not been cleaned in a while and the smut from the city’s fires had stained and pitted the outside surface so that it made the sky seem dirty and gloomy.Yet inside his heart felt warm with pride that a great man like Nelson should have recognised his ability. Particularly Nelson, who obviously had such a huge sense of his own self-importance that the fact he had recognised another man’s achievements was high praise indeed. Arthur smiled wryly at the thought. At least Admiral Nelson was clear about his duty, and knew what needed to be done.Arthur picked up the newspaper again and turned the pages, scanning the stories. There was little of interest, save one small editorial piece, allegedly speaking up for the shareholders of the East India Company, demanding that Richard Wellesley be called to account for his actions in India.

He cast the newspaper aside in disgust and stared back towards the window while he waited to be summoned to his interview with Lord Castlereagh. At length, some half-hour after Nelson had preceded him, the clerk returned and led him up another flight of stairs to the offices of the senior ministers. Castlereagh was in a large room with two windows overlooking Downing Street. Opposite the windows was a large map of the known world. Notes were pinned to the map in places of interest to the policymakers in London. The Secretary of State for War and the Colonies stared at him briefly, and then gestured to the chair opposite his desk.

‘Welcome back to England, Sir Arthur.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’

‘You are to be congratulated on your achievements in India. Even some of the most bitter of your family’s political opponents grudgingly admit the brilliance of your victories over the native forces opposed to us.’

‘That is good to hear. I am sure that those who have followed events in India understand that the credit for such achievements should be directed as much towards my brother as myself.’

‘Alas, no.’ Castlereagh folded his hands together. ‘I am sure that you are aware that the directors of the East India Company are furious at his appropriation of their funds for the purpose of expanding our interests across the subcontinent.’

‘I see,’ Arthur replied evenly. ‘Might I ask where you stand on the matter, my lord?’

Castlereagh indicated a large folder of reports on his desk. ‘I have been reading through the material on your brother’s term of office, and frankly, I can see why some might argue that his policies were not justified.Take the war against the Mahrattas as an example.The costs of that venture seem to vastly outweigh any perceivable benefits for the Company, and Britain. One might almost suspect that the real reason for fighting the Mahrattas was little more than personal glorification. It must be tempting for any Governor General to make his mark on so broad and unblemished a canvas as the lands of India. Who can blame him?’ Castlereagh paused, and when he continued there was ice-cold steel in his tone.‘Nevertheless, the financial, and human, resources of the East India Company are not the playthings of the ambitious. Your brother will be called to account when he returns, and if he fails to explain himself to the satisfaction of Parliament he will be ruined . . . utterly. Now, I am not a vindictive man, Sir Arthur, and I see no reason why the disgrace of your brother should afflict you, or the rest of your family. Particularly if you should co-operate with the inquiry into your brother’s actions.’

Arthur cleared his throat and stared directly at the Secretary of State for War. ‘This is Britain’s darkest hour, my lord. We are fighting for our survival, against a tyrant and his hordes. We are not simply another one of Bonaparte’s enemies. We are the last hope of Europe. If we are defeated, then all other nations opposed to France will lose heart.’ He leaned forward. ‘That is why we must do everything we can to strengthen Britain’s power around the world. If Richard had not taken the bull by the horns and strengthened our hold on India, then we would have been forced to contest every inch of the ground with the French and their allies. It is my belief . . . my utter conviction . . . that Richard was justified in his policies, and it is nothing less than a scandal that his political foes are seeking to ruin him. If Bonaparte ever defeats Britain, it will be due as much to the misdirected efforts of envious Englishmen as to his armies.’

He sat back in his chair with a defiant expression. Lord Castlereagh’s lips were pressed into a thin line as he stared back. Neither man spoke for a moment, then Castlereagh rose from his chair.

‘We have said all that needs to be said for now, Wellesley. I sincerely hope that you will not live to regret your decision to stand by your brother.’

Arthur smiled. ‘The longer the war goes on, the less likely it is that I will live to regret any decision, my lord. A prospect that few politicians have to face, I’ll warrant. I bid you good day.’