Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

Kitty set her cup down with a sharp rap and folded her hands together. ‘I ask it because of the way you are presently treating me, Arthur. I am your wife, yet you hardly ever speak to me. Never take any interest in me or my opinions. Lately, you have barely even acknowledged your children. Under such circumstances can you wonder if I should fear that you are seeking affection elsewhere?’

He pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.‘I will not discuss such accusations, Kitty, do you hear? And you are quite wrong about the Duke of York, as you shall see.’

Without another look at her, he left the room and retired to his private study. Pouring himself a large glass of port, he dropped into his chair and stared at the small pile of official papers and letters he had brought home with him from the castle. Almost all the latter were fresh requests for patronage, some specifically requesting positions that entailed few actual duties so that the incumbent could be assured of an income without the inconvenience of having to work for it. Arthur scowled at the papers for a moment and then took a hefty swig. The country was at war, and while every resource should be dedicated to providing the means to secure victory over France it seemed that many of his countrymen still placed selfishness above service to the nation. The situation was even worse in Parliament, where political factions spent their energies scoring points over each other, regardless of the wider peril that threatened to engulf Britain.

And now this business with the Duke of York. Arthur shook his head.Whatever the Duke might have done, he had a first rate talent for administration and making sure that his country fielded the best trained and equipped army in Europe. If the scandal that embroiled him was not quashed, Britain might very well end up deprived of his services. Simply because Mary Anne Clarke had decided to take her revenge on him for ending their affair. No doubt she was also being rewarded for her accusations by some Whig politician. At present the Whigs were spoiling for peace with France. Peace at almost any price.

It was madness, Arthur reflected. Bonaparte did not strike him as the kind of man who placed a premium on peace.The French Emperor was a soldier through and through and the conquest of nations and the subjugation of people had become his obsession. But then, Arthur wondered, did he himself not share something of that taste for war? He never felt so complete as when he commanded men on campaign. Gone were the duplicities of politics, the pretensions of London society and the endless ennui of domestic compromises that had come to define his life with Kitty.

As soon as the last thought entered his head the bitter taste of shame and betrayal soured his soul and he despised himself. He finished his port and set the glass down sharply on the table. His country needed him in the war against Bonaparte. He must embrace his true calling and return to the army.The longer he stayed in his present post, and partook of the slow poison of politics, the less chance he would have of serving his country in uniform. Now that the Cintra inquiry had cleared him, he must seek a new appointment in the army as swiftly as possible.

The next morning, Arthur strode purposefully to his office. Cancelling his morning appointments, he settled down in front of a sheet of paper and began to draft a letter to Castlereagh.

My lord, it appears to me that the war with France is swiftly approaching the point where the term crisis might be employed. The present scandal afflicting his grace, the Duke of York, and the recent ejection of our army from Spain, have caused public support for the continuation of the conflict to wither. Unless his majesty’s government is resolved to continue direct confrontation of enemy land forces we cannot expect the nation to endure a state of war for much longer.Therefore, we must take it upon ourselves to overcome the French army in the field and prove, again and again, that the French can be beaten. Every victory we gain will sound through the rest of Europe like a rallying cry.

The French are intent on completing their conquest of the Peninsula by subduing Portugal, so that is where we may fight them. I have always been of the opinion that Portugal could be defended whatever might be the result of the contest in Spain. Once we have beaten off the French attacks we could then go on the offensive and drive them completely out of Portugal. At that point it may even be possible to extend the campaign into Spain.

Arthur paused, and thought over the requirements of his plan. If he suggested too few men, Castlereagh might deem the whole enterprise to be doomed from the start. If he requested too many Castlereagh would have a hard time convincing the rest of the Cabinet to undertake such a campaign when resources were already stretched. Arthur dipped his pen in the inkwell and continued.

In order for this project to succeed, the British army in Portugal must number at least twenty thousand, with four thousand of those being cavalry.The Portuguese army will also need to be equipped and trained from the British purse. Furthermore, we will depend upon the continued resistance of the Spanish in order to deny the French the chance to concentrate their forces against us.

Lowering his pen, Arthur read over his words and then puffed out a sigh. The next section was going to be the most challenging item for Castlereagh to accept, but there was no avoiding the recommendation. Arthur again set his pen to the paper.

Concerning the question of who should be placed in command of such an expedition, I shall make no resort to false modesty. It is my unshakable conviction that I have both the ambition and the necessary ability to best ensure our success in Portugal. I have already demonstrated the superiority of our men over the enemy at Roliça and Vimeiro. I have the confidence of our men and had garnered enough experience of campaigning in inhospitable terrain to give our forces the best chance of victory.

It was a bold claim, boldly expressed, but Arthur did not think that a word of it was unjustified. Besides, when he considered the other possible candidates for such a command, none matched his achievements. Of those who might have rivalled him for the command, Moore was dead and Baird had been severely wounded at Corunna.

Satisfied that Castlereagh knew him well enough to know that in such matters he would give honest recommendations, Arthur set his introductory note to one side and began working on a far more detailed memorandum concerning every aspect of the suggested campaign. He worked on through the day, and then, as dusk settled across Dublin, he called for a secretary and instructed him to write up the entire document in a fair hand, ready for despatch to London aboard the first available mail vessel.

While he waited for a response from the War Secretary, Arthur sadly continued to follow the news of the growing scandal that was engulfing the Duke of York. As more details dripped out it became clear that the Duke had been aware of the improprieties of his lover. Even Arthur had to admit that there must be a minimum standard of morality observed by those who claimed high public office. In the end, the Duke felt forced to resign, and was replaced by Sir David Dundas as commander-in-chief of the army. Even before that had occurred, a fresh scandal, much closer to Arthur, had gripped the attention of London society.

Lady Charlotte Wellesley, the wife of Arthur’s younger brother Henry, had eloped. She had left her husband for her lover, Henry Paget. As soon as he heard the news, Arthur travelled to London. Naturally he wanted to support his brother, but that was not the only thing on his mind as he arrived in the capital.

‘You make a very persuasive case.’ Castlereagh nodded towards Arthur’s lengthy letter, lying on his desk. ‘Frankly it is exactly the kind of farsighted strategic vision that the Cabinet needed to consider.’