Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

‘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.’

Chapter 6

Napoleon

Boulogne, August 1805

The encampment of the army tasked with invading Britain spread out for miles in all directions. From the top of the signal station Napoleon could make out row upon row of the shacks and shelters that his men had constructed across the countryside. Interspersed with the camps were the areas cleared for parade grounds, artillery parks, supply stockpiles and horse lines. Over a hundred thousand men were poised to board the invasion barges in ports along the coast.

Below the signal station the harbour was filled with clumsy flat-bottomed transports. According to the senior naval officer at the port, the vessels handled badly and were too exposed to the elements. His opinion was of little concern to Napoleon. As long as the barges were capable of crossing the channel to Britain that was all that was required of them. But before that crossing could be undertaken there was the small matter of clearing the path of the opposing fleet.