Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

At noon, the first columns of French infantry entered the capital, the skirmishers warily picking their way along the main avenues and thoroughfares, searching the openings of each narrow lane for sudden ambushes. Behind them tramped the columns of line infantry, under their tricolour banners surmounted with the gleaming golden eagles of the empire. Once the route to the royal palace was secured, Napoleon entered the city on horseback, surrounded by a screen of escorts. He was struck by the silence and stillness that pervaded the capital, as if every living being had retreated within their houses, refusing to face up to the French presence on their streets. Napoleon stared about him in bitter resentment. The fools had been liberated from the dead hand of Bourbon rule. He had offered them his brother, as liberal and enlightened a ruler as any kingdom could wish for. Yet they resented their liberation and even now harboured a deep spirit of resistance to the new order.

Well, let them sulk, he reflected coldly. They would learn soon enough. The only real choice facing them now was acquiescence or death.

Chapter 50

Arthur

London, December 1808

‘It was a mistake to ever send an army into Spain,’William grumbled as he poured himself another glass of madeira and settled back into his chair in the front parlour of Arthur’s Harley Street home.‘Nothing good will come of it. How can General Moore hope to take on Napoleon’s Grand Army with his puny force?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Arthur replied calmly.‘Moore is a fine officer. He might yet upset the plans of the Corsican tyrant.You’ll see.’

William took a sip and looked across at his younger brother.‘If there was any justice, or common sense, in this world it would be you in command of that army.’

Arthur smiled slightly. ‘Well, I don’t know about the rest of the world, but there is precious little justice or common sense here in London at present.’

William nodded with feeling.

From the moment Arthur had stepped ashore following his return from Portugal he had been under attack from all those who opposed the treaty that had been signed at Cintra, allowing General Junot and his army to evade surrender.The image of the Royal Navy being used as a passenger service for the French army had humiliated the nation. The London newspapers had accused Arthur, Dalrymple and Burrard of everything from incompetence to cowardice. It had upset Kitty dreadfully and for the present she kept to the house rather than brave the hostile looks of Arthur’s enemies, and the embarrassment of his friends.

Some politicians in Parliament, scenting the opportunity to settle old scores, had immediately seized the chance to extend the attack to the rest of the family. Richard was still denied government office and had fallen back into a mire of self-pity and whoring.To make matters worse he had approached the King to request that Arthur be ennobled as a reward for his victory at Vimeiro. Lesser generals had won smaller engagements and received far greater honours, yet the timing of Richard’s approach was hardly ideal.With public opinion set against the generals held responsible for the Cintra treaty, now was not the time for the King to reward Arthur, and as things stood he doubted he would ever become Viscount Vimeiro.

Worse still, the enemies of the Wellesley family had finally convinced the government to set up a military inquiry into the events leading up to the Cintra treaty and it had been taking evidence for the last two weeks of November. Both Dalrymple and Burrard and their supporters had been busy laying the blame at each other’s door, when they were not directing it at Arthur. For his part he had kept silent, reserving any comment for the moment when he would make his case in front of the panel of senior officers in the Great Hall of Chelsea College. The day appointed for him to give his evidence and face cross-examination was two days hence. Before that Arthur had been invited to a royal levee: an early morning reception by the King himself.

‘Are you certain about tomorrow?’ William suddenly asked, as if he had been reading Arthur’s thoughts. ‘It might be wise to stay out of public view, at least until the inquiry is complete.’

‘I will go,’ Arthur replied firmly. ‘Neither the newspapers, nor the politicians, nor the London mob will have the satisfaction of having dissuaded me from showing my face in public.’

‘I suppose that is a good thing,’William said doubtfully. ‘In any case, I shall be coming with you.They might as well have two targets for their anger as one.’

Arthur laughed. ‘Spoken like a true soldier!’

‘God forbid.’

Several soldiers stood guard at the palace gates and a sergeant inspected invitations as each carriage rumbled to a halt. A small crowd of Londoners had braved the chilly morning air to gather round the gates to watch the great and the good arrive at the palace.As the sergeant read off the names on the invitations they raised a cheer for popular public figures, showed blank indifference to those without a reputation and booed and whistled at a handful of those who had incurred public displeasure for whatever reason.

‘I don’t like the look of that mob,’ William muttered as he ducked back into the carriage.

‘Ignore them,’ Arthur replied calmly. ‘They are as fickle as the wind. Today I am dangled in front of them as a villain. In a year’s time, who knows? I may be the darling of the mob.’

‘Small comfort,’William muttered. ‘It’s today I am worried about.’

The carriage slowed to a halt at the gates and the driver handed over the invitation to the sergeant. The latter filled his lungs and bellowed out, ‘Admit the honourable William Wellesley, member of Parliament, and Lieutenant-General Sir Arthur Wellesley!’

At once there was a chorus of boos from the mob and as the carriage rattled forward some muddy slime struck the carriage window. Arthur raised an eyebrow. ‘Charming.’

They entered the inner courtyard of the palace and descended from the carriage to join the other guests climbing the steps into the reception hall. A number of footmen lined the route to the chamber hosting the levee. William nudged Arthur.

‘Do you see that tall fellow ahead of us? The one with the fair hair?’

Arthur craned his neck and saw the man indicated. ‘Yes. What of him?’

‘That is Charles Franks, a parliamentary Whig. Those others he’s talking to are some of his followers in the House.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said Arthur.‘I recall the name now. Recently elected, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, and keen to make a name for himself.’William lowered his voice and leaned closer to his brother. ‘Franks and those others have drafted a certain document. I gather that they intend to petition the King to have you tried for treason.’

‘Good God, treason? The dogs. They’ll never make that stick.’

‘I hope not, Arthur. But in the present climate, who knows?’

The line of guests edged forward into the chamber and took up their places on either side of a broad red carpet leading up to a dais where an ornate chair awaited the King. When all were present, the royal chamberlain entered and rapped his staff loudly on the tiled floor to one side of the carpet.

‘My lords and gentlemen, pray silence for his majesty the King and his highness, Prince George!’

The chamberlain stepped gracefully to one side and bowed deeply as the King entered the chamber in a dark blue frock coat, laced with gold. He wore several jewelled stars on his breast. Behind him came the Prince, also in blue, but with less decoration. They walked serenely down the length of the carpet, stopping here and there to exchange a brief word with friends and familiars.As they came abreast of Arthur the King suddenly stopped and turned to him.