Текст книги "Fire and Sword"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

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Chapter 9

Ulm, 16 October 1805

Hemmed in on all sides, the Austrians retreated to Ulm and prepared the hapless town for an assault. As nearly a hundred thousand men of the Grand Army closed around the defenders, the guns of the artillery reserve were brought forward and batteries were dug into the hills surrounding the town. At dawn, Napoleon was sitting on a campaign chair a short distance above the largest battery.Around him scores of staff officers talked in muted tones as they waited for the bombardment to begin. Napoleon ignored them. He was filled with an immense feeling of gratification that his plans had come to fruition so swiftly. The night before, he had received word from Marshal Bernadotte that the Russian army of General Kutusov had finally been located, two hundred miles from Ulm. Napoleon nodded faintly as he considered the situation. Kutusov was far enough away to give the Grand Army time to defeat the Austrians before turning to face the Russians. He pulled his coat more tightly about his shoulders and hunched down into the collar as he concentrated his gaze on the panorama stretching out before him.

Below his position lay the lines of the Grand Army, and a short distance beyond, the hastily erected redoubts and earthworks that ringed Ulm. A faint mist had risen from the Danube, on the far side of the city, and most of the buildings were grey and indistinct. Only the spires of churches and the roofs of taller buildings were high enough to be seen clearly.The air was filled with the shouts of artillery officers as they trained their guns on distant targets and gave the order for the weapons to be loaded with round shot. It was a cold morning, and a gleaming frost covered the frozen ground. Ideal conditions for artillery fire, as the cannonballs that did not immediately strike an object would take several bounces before coming to rest, thereby greatly increasing their range and capacity to do damage.

Out of the corner of his eye Napoleon saw a staff officer come trotting up to General Marmont. He saluted and spoke briefly before his superior strode across the slope towards the Emperor.

‘Sire, I beg to report that the artillery is ready to commence the bombardment, on your order.’

Napoleon nodded, drew a draught of chilled air deep into his lungs and took one last look at the peaceful town of Ulm nestling beside the dull gleam of the Danube. Then he breathed out. ‘Very well.You may open fire.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Marmont saluted and turned to bellow the order to the crew of the signal gun. ‘Open fire!’

The gunner with the linstock lowered the smouldering end to the powder in a small paper cone poking into the vent. There was a brief flare, then a jet of flame and smoke billowed from the muzzle an instant before the booming report carried up the hill to Napoleon and his staff. A moment later the rest of the massed guns of the Grand Army opened fire with a deep rolling roar that filled the morning sky like thunder. Hundreds of plumes of flame and smoke spat from the muzzles of the French guns, and then roof tiles exploded off the buildings of Ulm to show where some of the shot had struck home. Those guns that had been ordered to direct their fire at the Austrian earthworks began to take their toll, gouts of soil bursting into the air as fascines and timber fortifications were battered down.The defenders soon returned fire and the French positions received their damage in turn. But such was the weight of the Grand Army’s fire that General Mack’s outlying batteries were gradually silenced as the morning wore on.The sun rose in the sky and the mist from the Danube cleared from the streets of Ulm, only to be replaced by a thick cloud of dust swirling up from the masonry being pounded to pieces by heavy iron shot.Thick banks of smoke hung over the artillery positions of both sides, making them fire blind as they trusted to the careful laying of the guns before the bombardment to stay on target.

The gun crews had been ordered to cease fire at noon, and within a few minutes of the hour the last of the guns had fallen silent. A short time later the Austrians gradually followed suit and the comparative silence and stillness that followed was initially unnerving to the men new to war. Those in the artillery batteries quickly took advantage of the break in the action to make quick repairs to their defences, and drag away damaged guns as well as the dead and injured.

Up on the hill, Napoleon was taking a light meal of cold chicken, bread and watered wine when his attention was drawn to an excited babble amongst his staff officers. Lowering the wicker basket that contained his makeshift lunch, he rose and turned to follow the direction of their gaze.A small party of horsemen had emerged from the Austrian lines.Two men carried trumpets and were repeatedly blowing the same shrill call as they crossed the open ground between the two armies. Another man carried a large white standard, which he waved from side to side to ensure that it was clearly seen by the wary French skirmishers.The party was led by an officer with a broad red sash over his shoulder, and several decorations glittered brilliantly on his chest.

They were met at the French lines by a junior officer who directed them on to his regimental commander, who had them escorted to his brigade commander, and so on until they finally rode up the slope into the presence of the Emperor of France himself. Napoleon had resumed eating his meal and made a show of reluctance in putting it aside again as the Austrian officer dismounted and strode stiffly towards him. He was about to speak when Napoleon silenced him curtly with a raised hand. ‘A moment, if you please!’

He slowly chewed the last mouthful, staring intently at the Austrian as he did so, until finally the other man’s gaze wavered. Napoleon casually wiped his hands on a napkin and stood up to address the Austrian officer.

‘There.You may speak.’

The Austrian’s mouth sagged open in surprise at this curt treatment. Then he recovered, cleared his throat and began to deliver his message.

‘I am Colonel Count Freudklein, on the staff of General Mack. He sends you his warmest compliments and an offer to open negotiations with you.’

‘Negotiations?’ Napoleon interrupted. ‘To surrender?’

‘Surrender? No, sir!’ Colonel Freudklein frowned. ‘General Mack wishes to discuss an armistice.That is all.’

‘An armistice . . .’ Napoleon considered this for a minute, and then folded his arms and stared intently at the officer again. ‘How long does General Mack wish it to last?’

‘Ten days, sir.’

‘Ten days is a long time. Perhaps he has heard that Kutusov and his army are approaching?’

Freudklein kept his face expressionless and after a moment Napoleon grinned.‘My dear Colonel, I am kept fully informed as to the whereabouts of Kutusov. And I know full well that he is sufficiently distant to allow me to reduce Ulm and compel your surrender long before he arrives.’

‘We shall see about that, sir.The Russians might be here sooner than you think.’

‘Perhaps, but I doubt it. In any case, I am a compassionate man. My army might enjoy a brief rest from its exertions, as could yours. I grant your general his armistice.’ Napoleon paused for effect. ‘On one condition.’

‘Yes?’

‘That General Mack agrees to surrender his forces to me if the Russians have not relieved him within nine days of the signing of the armistice.That is my offer, and it is not negotiable. Now return to your general and let him know my terms.’

Colonel Freudklein saluted and returned to his horse and remounted. At a kick of his spurs his horse reared slightly and then galloped off down the slope, and his three companions quickly urged their mounts to follow him. Napoleon watched them go with a satisfied smile. His offer was generous, and acceptable to General Mack, who was desperate to buy time as he awaited his Russian allies.The Austrians no doubt assumed that Kutusov would reach them within ten days. But the latest report from placed at least two weeks’ march from Ulm. So, Napoleon mused, let the Austrians have their armistice, as long as they agreed to his surrender date.

The next morning, representatives of both armies met on open ground and signed the truce. General Mack declined to be there in person so Napoleon sent Berthier to complete the agreement in his own place. If the Russians failed to relieve their allies by the expiry of the armistice then the Austrians agreed to surrender to the Grand Army. Once the document had been signed the men of both armies stood down and settled into their camps while their pickets continued to watch each other warily. As the enemy toiled to repair their defences the French soldiers, exhausted by the rapid advance of the previous month, rested and repaired their uniforms and equipment. Napoleon saw to it that they were kept supplied with wine and the best food that could be looted from the surrounding towns and villages. As the autumn evenings drew in the French lines were alive with the sounds of good-humoured banter, song and laughter. On the other side the Austrians sat and quietly waited for word of the approach of their Russian saviours.

In the days that followed, at the country estate chosen for the headquarters of the Grand Army Napoleon spent long hours with Berthier planning the next stage of the campaign. The daily reports from Bernadotte told of the plodding advance of General Kutusov’s army, and as Napoleon scrutinised the maps spread over the floor of his quarters he knew there was no question of the Austrian army’s being relieved before the armistice expired. Kneeling on the map and measuring the distance with his dividers Napoleon nodded with satisfaction. Then his eyes flicked to the area representing the lands of Prussia and he stared fixedly at it for a moment before addressing Berthier, who was sitting on a stool to one side taking notes.

‘What’s the latest news from Prussia?’

Berthier pursed his lips as he hurriedly recalled his examination of the morning’s despatches. ‘According to our ambassador the war party is still trying to goad Frederick William into joining the coalition, but he’s reluctant to take the risk.’

‘Risk?’ Napoleon sniffed with contempt. ‘What risk could there possibly be if he joined forces with the Tsar and the Emperor of Austria? They would outnumber us three to one. The man is a coward and a fool.’

‘Just as well for us, sire.’

‘Yes,’ Napoleon replied quietly. ‘So . . . It is imperative that we keep our enemies divided.That means we must end this war swiftly, with the kind of annihilating victory that will crush the very idea of further opposition to France.’ He shuffled round and tapped his dividers on the Austrian capital. ‘It will not be sufficient to occupy Vienna. We cannot dictate terms until we have destroyed their army.’

Berthier nodded. ‘Indeed. But the loss of Vienna would still be a heavy blow to them, sire.’

Napoleon shook his head. ‘It is only a city, Berthier. Bricks and mortar. It can do us no harm. Still, in some ways it is a shame that old niceties of war have perished. It would be far more convenient if our enemies gave in once their capital cities had fallen. But this is a new age for warfare. Only the swift and the ruthless will prevail.That is why we win, Berthier.’

‘Yes, sire.’

The sound of heavy boots echoed down the corridor outside the room and both men turned towards the door as there was a sudden sharp rap.

‘Come!’ Napoleon called out as he heaved himself up and stepped carefully off the map. The door swung open and Marshal Lannes entered, his face flushed with excitement.

‘Sire, you’d better come and see this at once!’

‘See what?’

‘It’s the Austrians, sire.They are breaking the armistice.There are two columns advancing out of the Ulm defences.’

‘Treachery,’ Napoleon growled.‘This is what you get when you trust the word of an Austrian aristocrat. Come on, Berthier!’

Snatching up his hat, Napoleon strode from the room. With Lannes and Berthier following, he hurried outside and gestured to one of the grooms to bring their horses.The small party galloped out of the stable yard and across the open countryside towards the observation point atop a low hill overlooking Ulm and its defences. All around them drums were beating and trumpets shrilled out, calling the men of the Grand Army to take up their arms and form in their regiments ready to face the enemy. On the hill, a handful of officers was watching the enemy positions fixedly and were only aware of the Emperor’s arrival when he dismounted and snatched a telescope from a young lieutenant. He trained it in the direction of Ulm and took a breath to steady the view as he panned across the lines of defences. Sure enough, there were two vast columns advancing from the town. Away to the north a dense mass of cavalry, perhaps several thousand strong, was riding hard towards the French lines and already puffs of smoke were blossoming from the French batteries facing the Austrian lines.To the south-east of the town, a huge column of infantry was tramping out of the gates.

Lannes slapped his hands together.‘Damn fools are marching straight towards our guns.They’ll be cut to pieces.’

‘Maybe,’ Napoleon replied softly, then fixed his attention on the head of the Austrian column.There was no glitter of bayonets there, and then he understood. The enemy were holding their muskets upside down. Quickly he scanned the banners at the front of the column and saw that most were furled. The rest were plain white. He lowered the telescope and smiled.

‘They’re surrendering.’ He turned to Lannes and offered him the telescope. ‘See for yourself.’

‘What?’ Lannes looked astonished and then hurriedly trained the telescope on the enemy. ‘You’re right, sire. Surrendering, by God. Five days before the end of the armistice. But why?’

‘They must have heard news of the Russian army’s location,’ Napoleon mused.‘General Mack has realised that he could not be saved in time.That has to be it.’

‘What about the other column, sire?’ Lannes lowered the telescope and gestured to the distant cavalry charging through the French lines to the north.

‘A break-out force. I imagine Mack is hoping that he can at least save his horsemen. Well, we’ll see about that. Berthier, send word to Murat at once. Tell him what is happening and order him to pursue the enemy’s cavalry. They are not to escape. We cannot afford to let them join the other Austrian armies, or Kutusov.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier saluted and swung himself on to his horse to gallop back towards headquarters.

As they watched, the Austrian column began to deploy into line facing the hurriedly forming Grand Army.Then, regiment by regiment, the enemy lowered their weapons to the ground and stood to attention before the astonished eyes of the French soldiers. A large party of officers detached themselves from the Austrian lines and rode slowly towards the French pickets. They were quickly passed through and directed towards the headquarters of the Grand Army.

‘Come on!’ Napoleon ordered. Leading Marshal Lannes, he hurried back to his horse and climbed into the saddle and spurred his mount into a gallop. By the time they reached headquarters Berthier had issued orders for the formation of a guard of honour and the grenadiers of the Old Guard were hurriedly assembling either side of the gravel drive that led up to the country house. In their dress uniforms and towering bearskins the tough veterans looked as formidable as any men in Europe and Napoleon regarded them with pride as he joined the officers gathering in front of the entrance to receive the Austrians.

Just as the last men hurried into position there was a distant clatter of hooves and then Napoleon saw the first of the enemy’s officers swing into the drive. They trotted forward between the still lines of the grenadiers. Then an order was barked out and the French soldiers presented arms in one fluid movement that momentarily startled the Austrians. They continued forward, reining in a short distance from Napoleon and his staff. Their leader, wearing a glittering uniform bedecked with ribbons and medals, dismounted and approached. He was a thin man with a gaunt expression, made worse still by exhaustion. He paused as he scanned the French officers, until his gaze rested on Napoleon.With a weary sigh he drew his sword with a metallic rasp and held the hilt out horizontally as he advanced the final few steps with bowed head.

‘Emperor Napoleon, I have come to surrender my army to you.’

‘And you are?’ Napoleon asked casually, with an amused glint in his eyes.

The Austrian glanced up. ‘Sire, I am the unhappy General Mack.’

Napoleon accepted the sword, and handed it to Berthier. ‘I accept your surrender. Please permit me to entertain you and your officers here, while arrangements are made to take your army prisoner. How many men do you have, General?’

General Mack swallowed bitterly before he replied. ‘Over twenty-seven thousand souls.’

There was an excited muttering amongst Napoleon’s officers before he turned and shot them a withering glare and they fell silent at once.

‘Marshal Lannes, see to our guests.’

Lannes grinned. ‘It will be a pleasure, sire.’

Mack gave the order for his companions to dismount and as their horses were led away by French grooms the Austrian officers filed miserably through the entrance of the country house. Napoleon watched them for a moment, then turned to Berthier with a satisfied expression.

‘The first half of the campaign is over. Now comes the time to turn our might against the remnants of the Austrians, and their Russian friends.’

Chapter 10

Arthur

London, November 1805

In the weeks that followed his return to Britain Arthur gradually renewed his former friendships and other contacts in the capital.Yet at the back of his mind there was always the thought of Kitty, still living in Dublin, as far as he knew. Much as he longed to see her again, he put off writing to her over and over, telling himself that he was too busy for such matters at present. Amid the whirl and glitter of the capital’s social circles Arthur was flattered by the attention of women of quality, although he also spent many evenings in the clubs and drinking dens where he enjoyed the company of courtesans.Yet none of them excited his ardour as much as the mere thought of Kitty. Accordingly, he tried to occupy his mind with other matters.

It was vital that he fully understood the social and political terrain across which the Wellesleys would fight to secure their place at the centre of Britain’s affairs. His older brother, William, was a member of the House of Commons and proved a useful guide to the complex relations between the various factions. In the eleven years since they had last seen each other William had aged poorly. He was growing stout, and his hair was streaked with grey. More disheartening still was the degree to which William had become so acclimatised to politics that he had come to see it as the means to all ends, and he vigorously encouraged his younger brother to align himself with the rising faction of Lord Buckingham.

One morning, the two brothers were sitting in the parlour of their mother’s house as the first wet, windy days of winter closed in over London. Icy rain pattered against the windows and ran down the glass in dull streaks that blurred the details of the street outside. A servant had made up a fire, but even though the coals glowed brightly in the grate Arthur shivered and pulled his plain coat more tightly about his shoulders.

‘There was a time I looked forward to returning to Britain,’ he said quietly. ‘I thought that anything was better than enduring another summer in India. But now? By God, I’d give rank, title and fortune to be back in Mysore. Now that was passing comfortable.’

William smiled faintly. ‘Ah, yes. I’d heard that you and Richard were living like kings amongst the natives.What was the name of that palace you were using?’ He frowned as he tried to recall. ‘Dowley something?’

‘The Dowlut Baugh,’ Arthur replied.‘And it was a summer residence of Tipoo Sultan, not his palace.You really shouldn’t believe everything you hear in London, brother.’

‘I suppose not, but there were stories of the, ah, excesses of opulence that Richard bestowed on himself while he was Governor General. Rumour has it that you did not do so badly out of the situation either.’

‘Stories, William. That’s all. Just stories.’

William pursed his lips. ‘I hope so, for all our sakes. As long as Richard can explain himself to the satisfaction of Parliament when he returns.’

‘He will. And I shall back him to the hilt, as will you and the rest of the family.’

‘Oh, of course.’ William drew himself up in his chair. ‘That goes without saying. And we must make sure that we have secured enough political support to help Richard when – if – there is an investigation.’

Arthur regarded his brother wearily.‘You are referring to Buckingham, I take it?’

‘I am. The man is set to make his mark on the political scene. It would serve our family well if we allied ourselves to him.’

‘Politicians come and go, William. What if your friend Buckingham fails to make his mark? What if we were dragged down with him? Then how could our family hope to wield enough influence to serve Britain effectively? It would be best if we did not align ourselves with any faction. Indeed it would be best if there were no factions for the duration of the war.’ Arthur paused, and thought a moment before continuing. ‘I think it would be risky to tie ourselves to Buckingham.’

‘But what if he succeeds?’ William’s eyes gleamed. ‘Then we might have the pick of the offices of state, and serve Britain to the fullest extent of our abilities. Think of it, Arthur. The Wellesley family would be at the heart of government, where real power resides. That is where we deserve to be.’

Arthur shook his head sadly.‘It seems to me that you care rather too much about power. As I said before, politicians come and go, Tory and Whig alike. They are an ephemeral detail, brother. I will not make political enemies when Britain’s fate hangs by a thread. My ambition, my sole ambition at this moment, is to see Bonaparte and France defeated. I place nothing higher than that. Not party, nor faction, not even the political ambitions of my family. Do you understand? Nothing matters, save the defeat of France.’

William nodded slowly. ‘Perhaps you are right. But one might argue that just as politicians come and go, so do our foreign enemies. And Bonaparte is, after all, just another politician. Might you not exaggerate the danger one man poses to Britain?’

‘No,’ Arthur replied firmly.‘I am certain that he is the greatest threat this island has ever faced. To be sure, Bonaparte is a politician, but he is also a soldier and a statesman and he holds the affections of the mass of his people in his hand. France is an extension of his will, and he means to crush Britain, once and for all. Surely that is obvious to you,William? And that being the case, no Englishman can allow himself to be diverted by petty politics.’

‘Petty politics?’William’s lip curled. ‘Are you so naïve that you think there is any alternative to politics? Why, it is the lifeblood of government. You must embrace politics, Arthur, or let those who do sweep you aside.’

Arthur stared back at him, frowning. There had been a time when William had been principled, priggish even, but now Arthur saw that his brother had succumbed to the base values of those who had made Parliament their home. He felt tired, and unwilling to continue the discussion. If William wanted to play politics Arthur would not dissuade him. But he would not let himself surrender to the same temptation. Even so, however distasteful it might be, Arthur realised that he would have to bend a little in order to serve Britain’s interests. He leaned towards the fire and shovelled some more coals on to the fire.

‘Very well then, William. I will speak to Lord Buckingham.’

William smiled in warm satisfaction. ‘I knew you would see sense. I will broach the matter with him as soon as possible.’

Arthur nodded, and then fixed his brother with a firm look. ‘Mind you, I will not commit myself to his cause.You understand?’

‘I understand. Trust me, you need only talk to the man.’

As the chilly winter days passed and Arthur made his rounds of the social events of the capital he felt as if he was surrounded by enemies, seen and unseen. So it was that when an invitation came from Lord Buckingham to meet him at his grand house at Stowe early in November, Arthur gratefully accepted the chance to escape London for a few days. It would be good to breathe fresh air. Buckingham was known for his love of the hunt and Arthur, who shared the passion, looked forward to the chance to ride again. William let Arthur use his carriage for the journey and, on the morning Arthur left, his brother gently took his arm as he settled into his seat.

‘Remember, this man could be vital to our fortunes. Be careful what you say to him.’

Arthur smiled. ‘Trust me.’

William did not reply immediately, and a moment later the driver flicked his reins. The carriage lurched into motion and William hurriedly withdrew his hand. Arthur settled back and pulled the travelling rug over his body in an effort to keep warm. As soon as the drab grey facades of the city gave way to open country he felt his spirits rise. Despite his fond memories of the kinder months of the Indian climate, Arthur felt a deep contentment in his heart as he gazed out at the English countryside. Even in winter there was a wholesome beauty to the gentle lines of the landscape, broken as they were by small woods of ancient trees whose bare limbs were stark against the sharp air of a clear sky.The route took the carriage past small villages of timbered and brick buildings from whose chimneys thin trails of smoke curled into the blue heavens. After so many years away from Britain, Arthur regarded it all with a keen interest, and a growing sense of passion that this land must never endure the tyranny of Bonaparte.

The latest news from the continent was grim.The first rumours had reached London that an Austrian army had been forced to surrender at Ulm. Despite this reverse, Arthur reflected that the combined weight of the remaining Austrians and the armies of the coalition powers would surely overwhelm France. He pushed the thought aside as he stared out across the gaunt countryside. There was a special history here, one that made its people unique. A tradition that was worthy of preservation and one that he would give the last drop of his blood to defend.

As dusk drew in, the carriage reached Stowe and turned through the entrance to a large sprawl of parkland. A long tree-lined avenue stretched away from the muddy turnpike towards the pitched roofs and towers of a stately home the other side of a small rise in the ground, enough to keep Lord Buckingham’s country seat out of the sight of those travelling along the road that ran past his estate. As the carriage crested the rise,Arthur could see the full extent of the grand house with its lofty classical columns and tall windows. Light spilled out into the gloom and illuminated the neatly trimmed hedges that bordered the formal gardens lying to the side of the main house. The carriage drew up outside the main entrance and a footman trotted smartly down the steps to open the carriage door.

As he stepped down Arthur heard the unmistakable sounds of a large party: a loud hubbub pierced by the higher voices of women. He turned to the footman.

‘Lord Buckingham is entertaining, it would seem.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Arthur frowned. He had brought with him a minimum of formal wear in addition to his hunting attire.There had been no hint of a party in Buckingham’s invitation. ‘I am Sir Arthur Wellesley. I believe Lord Buckingham is expecting me.’

‘Indeed, sir.Your rooms are prepared. May I take your bags and show you the way, sir?’

Arthur nodded, and a moment later followed the footman up the steps into the warm glow of a well-lit entrance hall. Lord Buckingham’s wealth was conspicuously evident in every detail. Large paintings of family members adorned the walls, and gold leaf picked out the details of ornate mouldings in the ceiling high overhead. Opposite the entrance a marble staircase climbed up to a gallery that ran round the hall. On either side classical statuary filled niches painted a pale blue to enhance the lines of their contents. The footman led the way up the stairs and down a corridor into one of the wings, where he paused to open a door for Arthur before following him in with the bags. It was a comfortable chamber with a small dressing room and Arthur gestured to the chest at the end of the bed.

‘Place the bags there, please. I’ll need to change into something suitable before joining the party. How many guests is his lordship entertaining tonight?’

The footman paused to think before he replied. ‘All told, more than a hundred, sir.’

‘Any notables?’

‘Indeed yes, sir. We have the Prime Minister himself here.’

‘Pitt?’ Arthur could not contain a look of surprise.‘Who else, besides the Prime Minister?’

‘Lord Monterey, Lord Paget, Earl Portman, Sir Edward Walsey, to name just a few of them, sir. Quite a gathering.’

‘Yes, it is,’ Arthur said thoughtfully. ‘Thank you.You may go.’

The footman bowed his head. ‘I’ll tell his lordship that you have arrived, then?’

‘Yes, of course.’

As soon as the door had closed behind the man Arthur sat down on the bed with a sigh of frustration. He had assumed that he had been invited for a discreet meeting with Lord Buckingham, a mutual sounding out of opinions and positions. So it was with a heavy heart that he dressed in his best clothes: a plain dark coat, white breeches, silk stockings and buckled shoes. He knew full well that his attire would be rather drab in the whirl of fine lace and satin that would be adorning the great ballroom of his host. He left his room and made his way back downstairs, pausing to take a deep breath before he joined the party.Two footmen stood at the open doors and beyond them Arthur could see the guests, standing in clusters round the edge of the room talking and taking refreshment as a dozen members of a string orchestra took their places at the far end of the salon. Arthur knew Lord Buckingham by sight from his visits to Parliament and made his way across to his host, who was talking animatedly to a slight figure with grey hair standing with his back to Arthur.