Текст книги "Fire and Sword"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 44 страниц)

‘My Lord Buckingham.’ Arthur bowed as he approached the two men.

Buckingham, a few years older than Arthur and rather more stout, turned his fleshy face towards the new arrival and raised an eyebrow.

‘I’m sorry, sir, you have me at a disadvantage.’

Arthur mentally cringed with embarrassment as he realised that Buckingham had not recognised him. But before he could suffer the humiliation of announcing his name the other man turned round and Arthur saw the familiar features of William Pitt.This was the first time he had been so close to the Prime Minister, and the exhaustion and ill health that was etched into his face shocked Arthur. Fortunately Pitt smiled and grasped Arthur’s hand.

‘Why, it is Sir Arthur Wellesley, the conqueror of the Mahrattas.’

‘You know me, sir?’

Pitt laughed. ‘You have been pointed out to me, Sir Arthur. Besides, I have followed your career, alongside that of your illustrious oldest brother, with great interest over the years. Now I understand that you are seeking a seat.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Arthur admitted. ‘Although I have not had much luck in that respect so far.’

‘I’m sure you will not be kept waiting long. Britain has great need of men of your calibre, on and off the battlefield.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Pitt still held Arthur’s hand and fixed him with a steady gaze as he continued. ‘Of course, I would hope that you might support my premiership when you do secure a seat. I could use a man like you in government.’

Lord Buckingham suddenly laughed. ‘You are ever the politician, William! Please spare my guest your wiles for the evening. Come, Sir Arthur, let me tear you away from this scoundrel and introduce you to some people of more honest disposition.You will know many here, but not all.’

Pitt released his grip, but raised his hand to stop Buckingham from making off with Arthur. ‘In a moment. First I would like to hear the young general’s opinion on the matter we were discussing.’

‘Surely there is a better time for that,’ Buckingham protested. ‘Besides, the man is here to enjoy himself, not to be interrogated by scheming reprobates such as ourselves.’

Pitt glanced at his host shrewdly.‘Whatever his reason for being here, I am certain it is not wholly for pleasure. So let him speak his mind.’

‘Oh, I doubt that Sir Arthur would be interested in our debate, William. He is a soldier, freshly returned from the battlefield. It would be unfair to expect him to have grasped the niceties of the governance of Britain and her foreign relations.’

‘Perhaps, but then again Sir Arthur might be sufficiently unspoiled by political faction-fighting to offer a fresh perspective. Would you indulge us, Sir Arthur?’

Arthur nodded slightly.‘I would be pleased to offer what assistance I may, sir.’

‘Very well,’ Pitt responded decisively before Buckingham could make any further attempt to draw Arthur away. ‘Now then, Sir Arthur, the heart of the debate rests on the course that Britain should chart in the near future.You may not yet be aware, but we have received a fresh peace overture from the French government.’

‘I had not heard of this, sir.’

‘Ah, but I am sure you soon will. Secrets have a way of leaching out no matter how closely my ministers and I attempt to keep them. In any case, it is not clear if the provenance of the French offer to talk peace is Bonaparte himself, or Talleyrand and his coterie.’ Pitt arched an enquiring eyebrow at Arthur. ‘The question is what to do about it.’

Arthur thought rapidly. He stood in front of two of the most powerful figures in Britain, men who could determine his destiny on a whim. Having decided that he would not play at partisan politics, he was now faced with a test of his ability to avoid taking sides. He cleared his throat.

‘Well, sir, whoever may be behind this peace overture, I suspect that it is not Bonaparte.’

‘Really?’ Buckingham’s brow creased faintly. ‘On what basis?’

‘It doesn’t seem likely, my lord, when one considers what is readily known to those who read the papers in London. Even now Bonaparte has launched his army against the Austrians. That does not seem to be the action of a man who desires peace.’

‘Quite so.’ Pitt nodded. ‘It seems we share a common view on the matter.’

‘It is still possible that the Emperor does desire peace,’ Buckingham insisted. ‘He has disbanded the army poised on the French coast for the last year. Surely that is a sign of his good intentions with respect to Britain.’

‘The army is not disbanded,’ Arthur replied. ‘It has merely been redirected against the Austrians.’

‘Ah, well, then perhaps Austria’s danger is to our advantage. Napoleon would not be wise to fight on two fronts.’ Buckingham shifted his gaze to the Prime Minister. ‘If the latest reports from the continent are to be believed, Russia is already marching to Austria’s aid. Against the additional forces from Sweden and those we ourselves intend to send to Hanover, what chance has the Emperor? Faced with the threat of defeat, Napoleon will make any peace deal he can get.’

Pitt shook his head wearily.‘You misunderstand our enemy, my lord. Even if Bonaparte did make peace with us, do you imagine he would actually honour the terms of any treaty he put his name to?’

Buckingham looked surprised. ‘He is Emperor of France. His name would be signed on behalf of every man, woman and child of that country.To break the terms of such a treaty would bring down infamy on France.’

‘Infamy?’ Pitt snorted.‘If Britain falls under the heel of this Corsican tyrant, the charge of infamy will be of poor comfort to those who live here.’

Buckingham was silent for a moment before he continued, in a low voice,‘It seems that you have not lost your appetite for war, Mr Pitt. For over ten years now you have been instrumental in keeping our nation in a state of conflict. How much longer must our people be forced to endure this obsession of yours? How many millions of pounds have been expended? How many good men have died because of it?’

Arthur glanced towards the Prime Minister to gauge his reaction to Buckingham’s harsh accusations.There was no anger in Pitt’s expression, nor even a trace of moral indignation, just the weary resolve of a man who had long since committed his life to one end.

‘Sir,’ Arthur intervened. ‘It is the lot of a soldier to face danger on behalf of his country.’

‘Of course it is,’ Buckingham replied soothingly. ‘But there is no virtue in fighting an unnecessary war, particularly when an offer of peace is on the table.’

‘There can be no peace with France,’ said Pitt.‘Not while she is ruled by Bonaparte, and those responsible for the revolution. That is the melancholy truth of the situation, my lord. So there can be no rest for men like Sir Arthur until Bonaparte is defeated once and for all. Now, you may disagree with me on this.That is your privilege. But I assure you, if Britain falls, then we will be ruled by a man who does not tolerate disagreement.Would you have us live under such a tyrant, my lord?’

‘You should not believe everything you read in the London papers,’ Buckingham replied bitterly. ‘The Emperor is open to reason.’

‘I wish you were right. Truly.’ Pitt sighed sadly. ‘But in my heart I know, with certainty, that you are wrong. Since we disagree, I see no purpose in prolonging this discussion. Now, if you will pardon me?’ Pitt bowed his head, stepped back a pace, and turned away to walk slowly across to a group of women clustered around the handsome young Lord Paget. As he approached, the crowd parted and flowed around him while the women glowed with pride at the attention being paid to them by the Prime Minister. Arthur watched him for a moment, noticing that Pitt was clearly exhausted and did little to hide his frailty as his slender shoulders slumped.

‘Come, Sir Arthur!’ Buckingham suddenly grasped his arm and drew Arthur in the opposite direction. ‘A friend of mine wishes to speak to you. I told her you would be here tonight, and you and she have a close friend in common, it would seem.’

Lord Buckingham did not elaborate, and a short while later Arthur found himself being presented to a couple somewhat older than himself.The man was tall and thin and had the reserved air of one who held himself in high regard. Beside him his wife was short and plump, with an ample bosom and bright sparkling eyes that gleamed with an easy-going hint of mischief.

Buckingham bowed to the lady as he made the introductions. ‘Sir Arthur Wellesley, it is my pleasure to present General Charles Sparrow and his charming wife, Olivia.’ Buckingham exchanged a quick smile with the woman and then continued. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to attend to some other guests. I am sure that you will have plenty to say to each other, Olivia, my dear.’

Once their host had moved on General Sparrow gave Arthur a cursory examination. ‘Wellesley? Any relation of the recent Governor General of India?’

‘My brother.’

Mr Sparrow’s wife swatted him playfully. ‘Oh, Charles! You know that perfectly well. Don’t play the fool with the young man.’

‘Oh, very well.’ General Sparrow’s face creased into an amused smile. ‘I’ve heard a great deal about your recent exploits, as it happens.’

‘Really?’

‘Unfortunately, most of it is second hand, gleaned from the letters my wife receives.’

‘Letters?’ Arthur frowned. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.’

‘Sir Arthur.’ Olivia took his arm and beamed, revealing two rows of small, sharp-looking teeth.‘I am a firm friend of someone you know, or knew, exceedingly well. Miss Kitty Pakenham, to be precise.’

Arthur stared at her for an instant, a sudden surge of passion coursing through his heart. He swallowed and tried hard to contain his feelings as he tilted his head slightly to one side. ‘Miss Pakenham . . . Kitty. And might I enquire after her health?’

‘I should hope so!’ Olivia Sparrow burst into laughter. ‘Especially since she has written simply volumes to me concerning her feelings regarding you, Sir Arthur.’

‘She has?’ Arthur could not hide his surprise. In the years he had been in India, he and Kitty had exchanged a handful of letters, mostly about the affairs of friends and family and more general news. Arthur adopted a neutral expression. ‘I am sure that you exaggerate, Mrs Sparrow.’

‘Me? Exaggerate?’ She clasped a hand to her breast with a pained look and then quickly broke into another smile. ‘Well, perhaps just a little. But I know the girl’s mind, Sir Arthur, and her heart. She has missed you greatly.You should write to her.’

‘That’s enough, my dear,’ her husband broke in. ‘As ever, you go too far with other people’s confidences.’

Olivia stared meekly at her husband before leaning closer to Arthur and squeezing his hand. ‘Write to her.’

‘Er, yes, of course,’ Arthur replied awkwardly.

General Sparrow cleared his throat. ‘Sir Arthur, as a soldier, tell me, what chance has Bonaparte got of beating the Austrians in the present conflict?’

It was a clumsy attempt to divert the conversation away from his wife’s gossip, but Arthur was grateful not to have to talk about Kitty in front of them. His mind was filled with a jumble of images and emotions, and he needed time to consider his intentions towards her. For now he forced himself to focus on General Sparrow’s question.

‘The Austrians have a large enough army to counter Bonaparte,’ he began. ‘If the Russians join forces with them in time, they will outnumber the French overwhelmingly. I am no expert on the relative merits of the soldiery, but I have heard that the Austrians are well disciplined and brave, and their cavalry is without equal. However, the Frenchman has proved time and again to be a most valiant and hardy individual. He can outmarch any enemy, and fight like a demon at the end of the day. He is also well led by young commanders who can inspire their men to great acts of courage. And then, of course, there is Bonaparte himself.That man is perhaps the most brilliant general of our age. His very presence on the battlefield is worth ten thousand men.’

‘You speak as if you admire him, Sir Arthur.’

‘Admire him?’ Arthur thought for a moment and then shook his head. ‘I might have admired him once, when he was just a soldier. But now? No. He is a tyrant, and all his achievements are mere symptoms of that evil.’

His attention was abruptly drawn to a man who had just entered the salon, and stood at the threshold scanning the guests. His boots, breeches and cape were spattered with mud and his chest heaved with the exertion of his ride and final sprint into the house. Then, spying the Prime Minister, the man hurried across to him and spoke hurriedly in a low voice. The conversation in the room died quickly as the guests became aware of the man, and the warm air grew tense with excitement.

Pitt and the messenger conversed a moment longer, and then Pitt patted the man’s shoulder and turned to face the silent crowd. It was clear to Arthur that the Prime Minister was torn by mixed emotions. For a moment Pitt said nothing and stood ashen-faced, a shaking hand stroking his chin. Then he took a deep breath and addressed his audience.

‘I have just heard news of a great victory. From first reports it seems that Admiral Nelson has met and engaged the combined fleets of France and Spain off Cape Trafalgar. The enemy was annihilated.’

‘Good God,’ Arthur muttered as the impact of the news struck him. The immediate danger of invasion was over. Bonaparte had been humbled.

Some of the younger men began to talk excitedly and a voice bellowed out, ‘Hurrah for Nelson! Three cheers for Admiral Nelson!’ The orchestra hurriedly made ready to play a patriotic jingle, scrabbling through their sheet music.

‘Hah!’ General Sparrow clapped Arthur on the back. ‘They’ll make him a duke for this!’

But Arthur was still watching Pitt. There was no joy in the Prime Minister’s expression, only grief and despair as he raised his hands to attract the audience’s attention once more.

‘Please! Quiet, please, I beg you. There is more.’

Gradually the crowd hushed and stared expectantly, hardly daring to believe there was even better news to follow.

‘It is with the very greatest regret that I have to announce that Admiral Nelson fell in the battle, at the hour of his greatest service to the nation.’

‘Dead?’ Olivia Sparrow whispered and clutched her hand to her mouth. ‘Nelson is dead?’

The silence was total in the salon as the party guests stood, stunned into stillness. Pitt tried to say something further, but the words died on his lips. He shook his head and turned to leave the room, the first tears gleaming in his eyes.

Chapter 11

The following morning Lord Buckingham’s guests returned to London. They were desperate to discover the full details of the victory at Trafalgar. The politicians were also aware that it would be useful to be seen in Parliament paying tribute to the fallen hero. A few choice words of sorrowful rhetoric would be sure to be quoted somewhere in one of the country’s newspapers.

As Arthur rose from his breakfast at one of the tables that had been set in the salon, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see the Prime Minister.

‘Sir Arthur, I take it you are returning to London today.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Are you leaving soon?’

‘As soon as my bags are packed and my carriage is ready.’

‘Ah, that is good. I wonder if you would do me the honour of sharing my carriage on the road to London?’

Arthur was taken aback. It would indeed be an honour, but for Arthur rather than William Pitt. Instinctively he wondered if the offer was being made in order to derive some kind of political benefit for the Prime Minister. Perhaps he was trying to drive a wedge between Arthur and his host, Lord Buckingham.Arthur glanced across the room and saw Buckingham engrossed in conversation with a fat, pasty-faced man whom Arthur recognised as one of the Whig members of Parliament who had made a reputation for himself in constantly advocating peace with France. Pitt saw the direction of his gaze and smiled thinly.

‘Put your fears at rest, Sir Arthur; I will make sure that your presence in my carriage is not detected. I suggest you take your own carriage as far as the nearest village and send it on from there while you wait for me.’

It seemed a strangely covert arrangement and Arthur was tempted to turn the offer down politely, for fear that he would be seen as something of a conspirator if the ruse was discovered.

Pitt lowered his voice and leaned closer. ‘Sir Arthur, I do not make this suggestion lightly. I was impressed by your directness last night. In government one finds oneself surrounded by placemen, and those who would be placemen. They cut the cloth of their advice to suit their audience, and I would be glad to hear a more honest opinion on two pressing matters. Now then, will you drive with me?’

Arthur stared at the Prime Minister for a moment and came to a decision. He nodded.

‘Very good, then I shall see you later.’ Pitt leaned back and raised his voice. ‘A pleasure to meet you in person, Sir Arthur. I wish you a safe trip back to London.’

They exchanged a brisk shake of hands before Pitt moved off, heading for his host to take his leave. Arthur waited a moment before he followed. Buckingham clasped Arthur’s hand and composed his features into an expression of regret.

‘It is a shame that we did not have time to talk properly, but events have overtaken us. We will speak again soon, you have my word.’

‘Thank you, my lord. I will look forward to the occasion.’

‘As will I.’ Buckingham looked meaningfully at his guest. ‘In the testing times that lie ahead of us a man should be careful that he picks the winning side. Eh?’

Arthur smiled. ‘It is always my intention to win the struggle against the French, sir.’

Buckingham frowned. ‘I was referring to conflicts somewhat nearer to home.’

‘Of course, my lord. I misunderstood,’ Arthur replied smoothly, and then bowed his head. ‘I thank you for the invitation to your house.’

Lord Buckingham smiled graciously and acknowledged the bow before turning to the next of his departing guests. Arthur made his way out of the salon and into the entrance hall. A small crowd of guests stood in clusters with their baggage while they waited for their carriages. Footmen hurried in and out of the door, laden down with bags, chests of toiletries and hat boxes. To one side, Arthur spotted the Sparrows, but before he could avoid their gaze and move off Olivia caught sight of him and raised her laced glove to wave excitedly.

‘Sir Arthur! Good morning to you!’ Pulling on her husband’s arm, she hurried across the hall towards Arthur, who stood torn between a desire to hurry off for his meeting with Pitt and the obligation to be well mannered. Stifling a weary sense of resignation, he smiled a greeting.

‘Good morning to you, madam. Good morning, sir.’

‘Joining the stampede back to London, Wellesley?’ asked General Sparrow. ‘It’s going to be busy on the turnpike this morning, eh?’

‘Indeed.’Arthur, still musing over their mention of Kitty the previous evening, was tempted to ask for more news of her. Before he could speak Olivia took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

‘Sir Arthur, do please look us up in London. And there’s one other thing: the moment you get back to London, make sure you write to our mutual friend. A letter from you would warm her heart.’

‘I, er, will give it some thought, madam.’

‘Make sure you do. A lady can only be kept waiting for so long.’

‘Do get in.’ Pitt smiled as he held the carriage door open, and Arthur bent his head to climb inside. Although the interior was large by the standards of most carriages, it was upholstered in plain leather, which was heavily worn. Pitt noticed Arthur’s searching glance and could not help laughing.

‘A bit spartan, is it not? Not quite what you expected the Prime Minister to be travelling in. Well, this is not France and I am not the Emperor, so there is no need for an ornate toy with which to impress the common herd.’ Pitt laid his hand down on the cracked leather and stroked it with a fond expression. ‘I have been using this carriage for over ten years, on and off, and it has served me well enough. Though I think I shall not be able to use it for much longer.’

Arthur looked across into Pitt’s face and noted the ashen pallor of his flesh, and a strained expression he had tried to keep in check while at Lord Buckingham’s country house.Arthur cleared his throat.‘You are to retire soon then, sir?’

Pitt smiled thinly.‘No. It is my duty to remain in my post for as long as I am able to work towards the defeat of our enemy. But I fear I shall not live to see the victory.’

‘How can you know that, sir?’

Pitt raised a hand to silence Arthur. ‘Before you say another word, and spoil my growing regard for you, spare me any of the polite platitudes men lavish on those they know will die. I am a sick man, Sir Arthur. My doctor’s opinion, for what it’s worth, is that I will endure for a few months, a year at the most, before my life gives out.Therefore I must not waste a moment of what time is left to me. If Britain is to win this war of wars I must do all that is in my power to ensure that I leave my country in the hands of the best men, and give them the means to defeat Bonaparte.That is why I wish to speak to you now.There are two matters I want to discuss. Firstly there is the question of what happens to your brother, Richard, when he returns to Britain.’ The Prime Minister stared at Arthur for a moment before continuing. ‘I know that the Wellesleys are a close-knit family. I know that you served your brother loyally, and with great credit, while you were in India. However, I am generally a good judge of character, Sir Arthur, and I believe you will be straight with me.’

‘I will do my best to be as honest as I may, sir,’ Arthur replied carefully.

‘I could expect no more,’ Pitt conceded. ‘So, then, I have read the reports sent to me by the board of directors of the East India Company, as well as your own representations and those of your brother William. The Company’s main allegation is that your brother misappropriated vast sums of Company funds and equipment. Is that true?’

‘Establishing peace and order across India did not come without cost, sir. It is true that Richard authorised the use of several million pounds of funds and equipment belonging to the company. But there was no dishonesty. He did not misappropriate anything. You have my word on it.’

‘Your word?’ Pitt was silent for a moment as he gazed shrewdly at Arthur.Then he nodded slowly.‘Very well. I think I am satisfied that the, er, Wellesley system of government in India was sound. I will do my best to see that your brother, and you, are protected from political persecution. But I offer no guarantees, do you understand?’

‘I would ask for none, sir. Only a fair hearing and a just outcome.’

Pitt smiled wryly.‘If you think you’ll get that in Parliament then you are a madman, Sir Arthur.’

‘Then maybe I had better stay as far from Parliament as I can.’

‘Yes, that would be wise. I sense that you do not yet have the venal temperament that a career in politics requires. Such a gross deficiency dictates service to your country in some other sphere.’

‘A sacrifice I am willing to make, for Britain,’ Arthur replied, and they both laughed, Pitt so much so that he suddenly began to cough violently, and he clutched a hand to his mouth as his lined features clenched into a grimace. Arthur, fearful for the man’s health, leaned closer and reached out hesitantly.

‘Sir? Are you all right?’

Pitt waved a hand dismissively, and closed his eyes as he fought off the coughing fit. When at last it was over he took a deep breath and puffed out his cheeks.

‘God, I needed that. It has been a while since I laughed so heartily, Sir Arthur.’

‘It is perhaps as well, given the effect on your constitution, sir.’

‘I am fine, really I am. Laughter is the best medicine, so they say, though there has been precious little to laugh about in the last few years. And now this business at Trafalgar . . .’ Pitt’s expression hardened. ‘It is a bad blow for Britain that Nelson has been taken from us. The people need heroes. They need men who can win victories and prove that Bonaparte can be defeated.’

Arthur nodded.

‘The difficulty for us,’ Pitt continued thoughtfully, ‘is that our military power rests on the shoulders of the Navy.The army will never be strong enough to take on the hosts that Bonaparte can summon.To be sure, we can pour money into the coffers of our allies on the continent, but it is no secret that such subsidies demean them as much as they impoverish us. So what are we to do, Sir Arthur? That is the question. How can we defeat France?’

Arthur considered the question for a moment, bringing into focus the ideas and plans he had been pondering ever since his return from India. He cleared his throat and Pitt looked at him expectantly.

‘You are right, sir. We cannot defeat Bonaparte if we continue our current strategies. France’s colonies are a mere detail to him, and even if we capture them or disrupt their trade, he will still be master of the continent. If he is to be laid low, then we must defeat him on land, and ultimately on French soil.This is a war we shall have to carry to the very heart of Paris. At some point Britain must assemble an army powerful enough to confront Bonaparte himself. That will not be possible for some years. The men who defeat France will have to be trained well, and fully equipped and provisioned.They must gain plenty of campaign experience and be convinced that they are more than a match for any man in the French army.’ Arthur paused a moment.‘And they will need to be led by the best officers that can be found. They will need a commander who stands beside them whatever the danger, one who is flexible in his methods, and resolutely fixed on his goal.’

‘And would you be such a man?’ Pitt asked with an amused expression.

‘I would. But there are others who would serve as well.’

‘And many who would not.’

Arthur did not respond to the comment, and continued with his train of thought. ‘Then there is the question of where such an army might gain the experience it requires to defeat Bonaparte. Too often Britain has hurled her forces piecemeal on to the continent to support our allies, with little tangible benefit to our war aims. Sir, we need to concentrate our forces in an area on the periphery of Europe where the men can be forged into a fine weapon.’

‘Where do you have in mind, Sir Arthur?’

‘The Iberian Peninsula.’

‘Spain?’

‘Portugal, to begin with.That would serve as a fine base of operations for taking the war to Spain, and ultimately France.’

‘A most indirect route to Paris, I should say.’

‘That is the beauty of it, sir. It would stretch Bonaparte’s resources to the limit. Given France’s position on the continent, he enjoys interior lines of communications for all his forays into northern Italy,Austria and the German states. But Spain and Portugal are out on a limb.Any troops he sends to support Spain will be drawn from the armies opposed to Russia, Austria and Prussia. Even Bonaparte cannot endure if he is fully committed to fighting on two fronts. He will have to divide his attention, and his men, between the two. And there is a third front to consider, sir.The home front, as it were.While Bonaparte races from one end of his empire to the other there will be ample scope to encourage discontent amongst his own people.’

Arthur paused to give the Prime Minister time to take in the details and then continued in a more deliberate tone. ‘Of course, there will be risks. If our army is defeated on the Peninsula I have little doubt that public support for the war will fail. That means that whoever is commanding the army must look to its safety as his first priority. Furthermore, the government will need to accept that this is no mere incursion to discomfort our enemies. They will need to commit men and resources to the Peninsular army on a scale that has never been seen before. They will also need to be prepared to maintain it in the field for some years. I do not see this as a question of striking one mortal blow at the enemy, rather a methodical and incremental destruction of his will to continue the fight. Our army will be compelled to fight on the defensive at first, but as it gains experience and confidence it can be deployed to attack, the moment circumstances are propitious. I have seen our men fight in India and I have little doubt that our infantry, in line, can cut down the French columns as they advance to attack.’

‘Then why the need for time to harden our army, if the men are ready?’

Arthur smiled slightly.‘I said the infantry, sir. Our cavalry, alas, is fairly lamentable in terms of quality and discipline.They need toughening up. There should be more of them and they must understand their role both on campaign and on the battlefield. We have the raw ingredients of a fine army, sir.We just need the time to mould the different elements together.’

‘I see.’ Pitt mused for a moment and then leaned back into his seat, his body jolting lightly as the carriage trundled along the turnpike.Then he nodded. ‘Your arguments make fine sense, Sir Arthur. I will have the matter looked into thoroughly. Spain, then, will be where Bonaparte’s empire begins to unravel . . .’