Simon Scarrow - Fire and Sword

‘There was a time I looked forward to returning to Britain,’ he said quietly. ‘I thought that anything was better than enduring another summer in India. But now? By God, I’d give rank, title and fortune to be back in Mysore. Now that was passing comfortable.’

William smiled faintly. ‘Ah, yes. I’d heard that you and Richard were living like kings amongst the natives.What was the name of that palace you were using?’ He frowned as he tried to recall. ‘Dowley something?’

‘The Dowlut Baugh,’ Arthur replied.‘And it was a summer residence of Tipoo Sultan, not his palace.You really shouldn’t believe everything you hear in London, brother.’

‘I suppose not, but there were stories of the, ah, excesses of opulence that Richard bestowed on himself while he was Governor General. Rumour has it that you did not do so badly out of the situation either.’

‘Stories, William. That’s all. Just stories.’

William pursed his lips. ‘I hope so, for all our sakes. As long as Richard can explain himself to the satisfaction of Parliament when he returns.’

‘He will. And I shall back him to the hilt, as will you and the rest of the family.’

‘Oh, of course.’ William drew himself up in his chair. ‘That goes without saying. And we must make sure that we have secured enough political support to help Richard when - if - there is an investigation.’

Arthur regarded his brother wearily.‘You are referring to Buckingham, I take it?’

‘I am. The man is set to make his mark on the political scene. It would serve our family well if we allied ourselves to him.’

‘Politicians come and go, William. What if your friend Buckingham fails to make his mark? What if we were dragged down with him? Then how could our family hope to wield enough influence to serve Britain effectively? It would be best if we did not align ourselves with any faction. Indeed it would be best if there were no factions for the duration of the war.’ Arthur paused, and thought a moment before continuing. ‘I think it would be risky to tie ourselves to Buckingham.’

‘But what if he succeeds?’ William’s eyes gleamed. ‘Then we might have the pick of the offices of state, and serve Britain to the fullest extent of our abilities. Think of it, Arthur. The Wellesley family would be at the heart of government, where real power resides. That is where we deserve to be.’

Arthur shook his head sadly.‘It seems to me that you care rather too much about power. As I said before, politicians come and go, Tory and Whig alike. They are an ephemeral detail, brother. I will not make political enemies when Britain’s fate hangs by a thread. My ambition, my sole ambition at this moment, is to see Bonaparte and France defeated. I place nothing higher than that. Not party, nor faction, not even the political ambitions of my family. Do you understand? Nothing matters, save the defeat of France.’

William nodded slowly. ‘Perhaps you are right. But one might argue that just as politicians come and go, so do our foreign enemies. And Bonaparte is, after all, just another politician. Might you not exaggerate the danger one man poses to Britain?’

‘No,’ Arthur replied firmly.‘I am certain that he is the greatest threat this island has ever faced. To be sure, Bonaparte is a politician, but he is also a soldier and a statesman and he holds the affections of the mass of his people in his hand. France is an extension of his will, and he means to crush Britain, once and for all. Surely that is obvious to you,William? And that being the case, no Englishman can allow himself to be diverted by petty politics.’

‘Petty politics?’William’s lip curled. ‘Are you so naïve that you think there is any alternative to politics? Why, it is the lifeblood of government. You must embrace politics, Arthur, or let those who do sweep you aside.’

Arthur stared back at him, frowning. There had been a time when William had been principled, priggish even, but now Arthur saw that his brother had succumbed to the base values of those who had made Parliament their home. He felt tired, and unwilling to continue the discussion. If William wanted to play politics Arthur would not dissuade him. But he would not let himself surrender to the same temptation. Even so, however distasteful it might be, Arthur realised that he would have to bend a little in order to serve Britain’s interests. He leaned towards the fire and shovelled some more coals on to the fire.

‘Very well then, William. I will speak to Lord Buckingham.’

William smiled in warm satisfaction. ‘I knew you would see sense. I will broach the matter with him as soon as possible.’

Arthur nodded, and then fixed his brother with a firm look. ‘Mind you, I will not commit myself to his cause.You understand?’

‘I understand. Trust me, you need only talk to the man.’

As the chilly winter days passed and Arthur made his rounds of the social events of the capital he felt as if he was surrounded by enemies, seen and unseen. So it was that when an invitation came from Lord Buckingham to meet him at his grand house at Stowe early in November, Arthur gratefully accepted the chance to escape London for a few days. It would be good to breathe fresh air. Buckingham was known for his love of the hunt and Arthur, who shared the passion, looked forward to the chance to ride again. William let Arthur use his carriage for the journey and, on the morning Arthur left, his brother gently took his arm as he settled into his seat.

‘Remember, this man could be vital to our fortunes. Be careful what you say to him.’

Arthur smiled. ‘Trust me.’

William did not reply immediately, and a moment later the driver flicked his reins. The carriage lurched into motion and William hurriedly withdrew his hand. Arthur settled back and pulled the travelling rug over his body in an effort to keep warm. As soon as the drab grey facades of the city gave way to open country he felt his spirits rise. Despite his fond memories of the kinder months of the Indian climate, Arthur felt a deep contentment in his heart as he gazed out at the English countryside. Even in winter there was a wholesome beauty to the gentle lines of the landscape, broken as they were by small woods of ancient trees whose bare limbs were stark against the sharp air of a clear sky.The route took the carriage past small villages of timbered and brick buildings from whose chimneys thin trails of smoke curled into the blue heavens. After so many years away from Britain, Arthur regarded it all with a keen interest, and a growing sense of passion that this land must never endure the tyranny of Bonaparte.

The latest news from the continent was grim.The first rumours had reached London that an Austrian army had been forced to surrender at Ulm. Despite this reverse, Arthur reflected that the combined weight of the remaining Austrians and the armies of the coalition powers would surely overwhelm France. He pushed the thought aside as he stared out across the gaunt countryside. There was a special history here, one that made its people unique. A tradition that was worthy of preservation and one that he would give the last drop of his blood to defend.

As dusk drew in, the carriage reached Stowe and turned through the entrance to a large sprawl of parkland. A long tree-lined avenue stretched away from the muddy turnpike towards the pitched roofs and towers of a stately home the other side of a small rise in the ground, enough to keep Lord Buckingham’s country seat out of the sight of those travelling along the road that ran past his estate. As the carriage crested the rise,Arthur could see the full extent of the grand house with its lofty classical columns and tall windows. Light spilled out into the gloom and illuminated the neatly trimmed hedges that bordered the formal gardens lying to the side of the main house. The carriage drew up outside the main entrance and a footman trotted smartly down the steps to open the carriage door.