Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

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The third in this epic quartet of novels focusing on two giants of European history, Wellington and Napoleon. In the early years of the nineteenth century, Arthur Wellesley (elevated to Viscount Wellington in the course of the novel) and Napoleon Bonaparte are well-established as men of military genius. Wellesley has returned from India, where his skill and bravery made a remarkable impression on his superiors. He faces trials and tribulations on the political scene before becoming embroiled militarily in Copenhagen, then Portugal and finally Spain. Napoleon, established as Emperor, is cementing his control on Europe, intending finally to crush his hated foe across the Channel: Britain. The time is fast approaching when Wellington and Napoleon will come face to face in confrontation and only one man can emerge victorious...

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‘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.’

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