Fire and Sword r-3

by Simon Scarrow

  The mayor’s eyes bulged and there were some angry murmurs from those in his deputation. The mayor swallowed and hastily gathered his map in and rolled it up. ‘Then, sir, I shall take this matter to a higher authority, to someone who knows the true value of patriotism, and subscribes to the belief in no surrender to papist plotters.’

  ‘You are welcome to try,’ Arthur said with cool politeness. ‘Now, I bid you good day, gentlemen.’

  As the mayor and the deputation strode out of his office, Arthur caught the eye of Stoper and beckoned him over. Once he was sure that he would not be heard by his departing visitors Arthur spoke.

  ‘Better send a quick note to his grace. Inform him of what has happened and my decision on this matter. Send it at once, before those men have a chance to drive a wedge between the Lord Lieutenant and his Chief Secretary.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Stoper pencilled a hurried line in his notebook. ‘Will that be all, sir?’

  ‘Quite enough, thank you.’

  ‘Very well, sir.’ Stoper bowed his head and made his way to the door. There he paused and looked back.

  ‘Well?’ Arthur raised an eyebrow. ‘What is it?’

  ‘If I may say so, sir, you did the right thing.’

  ‘Of course I did,’ Arthur replied coolly. ‘Any bloody fool can see that.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Stoper smiled and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Chapter 29

  In an effort to better understand the public mood across Ireland, Arthur took his carriage and, together with Stoper, toured the counties with an escort of dragoons. What he found did not encourage him. In village after village he saw the same ramshackle cabins of the poor who barely eked out a living on the scraps of land they could afford to rent. The landowners were, for the most part, living in England - far from the troubles they had helped to provoke by keeping rents high and leaving their estates in the hands of agents who were intent on earning a comfortable commission by squeezing every last penny out of the hard-pressed tenants.

  Each town and large village was garrisoned with redcoat soldiers who patrolled the streets and country lanes with the swagger of those who knew they had complete power over the local inhabitants, who dared not even meet their eye for fear of earning a hard beating. Conversely, it was a brave soldier who ventured out from his barracks alone.Though cowed, those with rebellion still in their hearts were still capable of isolated acts of violence, and Arthur received reports of soldiers and loyalists who had simply disappeared. Once in a while a body might turn up in a bog, or weighted down in a river, too badly decomposed to be identified.

  After two weeks spent mostly in his carriage, closely confined with Stoper,Arthur finally gave the order to return to Dublin.As they rumbled along a rutted lane, Arthur stared out of the window at the passing fields, seeing the bent backs of Irish peasants as they laboured at their crops, or made improvements to their lands or rude cottages and shacks.

  ‘The danger to our interests here does not come from France,’ Arthur mused.

  Stoper looked up sharply, having been trying his best to sleep as the carriage bumped along the crude track.

  ‘Sorry, sir. What did you say?’

  ‘I was just thinking. Following Trafalgar I doubt whether Bonaparte would consider another attempt at landing a force here in Ireland. He could never amass enough transports to carry the number of men necessary to guarantee the conquest of Ireland.’

  ‘No, sir. I suppose not.’

  ‘In which case the danger comes not from without but within.’ Arthur nodded towards the peasants in the field they were passing. A family of perhaps a dozen were busy seeding the tilled soil: a father, mother and children, some barely old enough to walk, let alone work. An infant was tucked in a sling round the mother’s chest. ‘As long as they endure such conditions, they will hold England responsible. Every time a child dies for want of a decent meal, they will blame England.’

  Stoper nodded. ‘And it would be hard to blame them for doing so, sir. Not while they feel themselves to be oppressed.’

  ‘That may be true,’ Arthur replied quietly. ‘Yet, whatever the rights and wrongs of the situation, one thing is certain. Britain cannot dismiss the threat posed by the prospect of an independent Ireland.The French would be interfering here in a trice, landing guns, equipment and men and encircling Britain in an iron fist so that Bonaparte need only clench it to crush us.That cannot be allowed to happen.

  ‘The trick of it is to instil an innate sense of superiority in those appointed to control Ireland, right down to the last soldier in every garrison. At the same time the people must be made to accept the superiority of Britain. They must believe it so that they shrink from taking action against our rule.’

  ‘Our rule?’ Stoper repeated the phrase thoughtfully. ‘You already speak as if we were two different peoples and not one.’

  ‘Yes,’ Arthur replied sadly. ‘That is so. It strikes at my heart to say it, Stoper, but we need to be cruel and heartless long before we can afford to make any kind of move towards relieving the burdens of the people of Ireland. We can only make concessions from a position of strength, or else open the doors to a flood of cries for reform. That would be a flood we could not control. So, for now, there is nothing I can do, save encourage the security of the state by whatever means are necessary.’

  Stoper stared at his superior for a while before he pursed his lips. ‘If you say so, sir.’

  It was long after dark when the carriage returned to the lodge at Phoenix Park. The driver wearily unloaded Arthur’s baggage as the Chief Secretary stepped down from the carriage and dismissed the dragoon escort before turning to his senior clerk.

  ‘You have the notes, Stoper. I want a report on our findings before the end of the week so that I can present them to his grace.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Now then, you may take my carriage to convey you home. I expect to see you in my office before eight in the morning. Clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  As the carriage rattled off, Arthur climbed the steps to the house and rapped on the door. For a moment there was silence, then he heard the rapid patter of approaching feet and an instant later the door was opened. A footman peered cautiously round the jamb, holding a lantern up to inspect the late-night caller. He relaxed when he recognised Arthur.

  ‘Thank God it’s you, sir.’

  ‘Why, who else were you expecting? Now see to my baggage.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The footman’s face resumed its fretful expression and he glanced past Arthur into the drive until Arthur snapped at him. ‘Well? What are you waiting for?’

  ‘My apologies, sir, but we are expecting the physician at any moment.’

  ‘What?’ Arthur felt a stab of fear and anxiety. ‘What has happened, man? Tell me.’

  ‘It’s young Arthur, sir. He’s fallen ill.’

  ‘Ill?’ Arthur felt his stomach clench. ‘Out of my way.’

  He ran up the steps and into the house. Taking the stairs two at a time, he raced to the first floor and along the corridor towards the bedrooms, the sound of his boots echoing off the walls. A door opened at the end of the corridor and Kitty emerged from the baby’s room. By the dim light of the candle burning in a bracket outside the door Arthur could see that she had been crying and even in the warm glow of the flame she looked ashen. Arthur’s footsteps faltered as he approached and a sick certainty that their son was dying struck him like a blow to the whole body.

  ‘By God, Kitty, what has happened?’

  ‘Our son is stricken,’ she replied softly, her lips trembling.

  Arthur took her hands and squeezed them, before leading her back into the room. A nurse was leaning over the crib and dabbing at the child’s face with a damp cloth.The baby stirred and moaned pitifully for a moment before crying. Arthur looked down and saw that the boy’s face and arms were marked by red spots and he trembled feverishly.

  ‘What is it? What ails him?�
��

  ‘It’s measles, sir,’ the nurse replied.

  ‘He’s dying,’ Kitty whispered. ‘I know it.’

  The nurse shook her head. ‘I’ve seen measles come and go, my lady. Most get over it soon enough. He’s a bonny lad. He’ll live, so he will.’

  ‘Measles,’ Arthur repeated. From what he knew of the sickness it was common enough and most who caught it recovered fully. He felt his anxiety begin to ease as he took Kitty’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘The boy has measles, Kitty. I am sure he will recover. As the nurse says.’

  ‘We must wait for the doctor,’ Kitty replied. ‘In case she is wrong.’

  Arthur glanced at the nurse and they exchanged a brief look of understanding before he addressed his wife again. ‘I am sure the doctor will confirm what she says. Now you must take control of yourself, my dear. It does you no good to react so.And it certainly sets a bad example for the other members of the household.’

  Kitty looked up at him with a confused expression. ‘But our son is gravely ill. How do you expect me to react?’

  ‘He is not gravely ill,’ Arthur replied tersely. ‘He will recover. There is no point in over-reacting.You cannot affect the outcome by indulging yourself in emotion. Come, let us go to the drawing room and I will give you something to drink. Something to fortify your mind.’

  She shook her head, stunned by his apparent cold-heartedness. He took her gently by the arm and steered her towards the door, where he paused to look back towards the nurse. ‘Let me know when the doctor has been, and tell me what he says. We shall be in the drawing room.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Once he had settled Kitty on a sofa Arthur poured them both a glass of brandy and sat down opposite her on the other side of the fireplace, in the light of a single lantern placed on a small table. Kitty winced as she sipped the fierce spirit, while Arthur tipped his down his throat in one go, relishing the warm glow that spread through his body. He set the glass down with a sharp tap, then watched as Kitty sipped from her glass.

  He smiled. ‘That’s better.You are more yourself, my dear. I think it would be best to refrain from such outbursts of emotion in future.The boy is in the hands of a good doctor. He will recover soon enough.Trust me.’

  Kitty nodded.‘I know, my dear. I know.’ She was silent for a moment and took another sip of brandy before speaking again, looking at her husband furtively from beneath her brow. ‘I know that I am a disappointment to you, Arthur. I am not the woman you wished to marry.’

  ‘Nonsense, my dear. I will not hear it.’

  ‘Arthur, you are a good man. An honourable man.You have proved it in holding to your promise to marry me, when a lesser man would have recanted. By that token alone, I adore you. I know that I am not learned as you are. I have little experience of the world and have achieved naught of value in my life. Any propensity to beauty that I once had has faded. All that I have to offer you is my love and admiration.And yet, I am painfully aware that I disappoint you.That you consider me an unworthy partner.’

  Her words fell on his heart like rocks, because he recognised the truth of them, and when he replied the falseness of his assurances left a foul taste in his mouth. ‘Kitty, my dear. I married you for love, and I honour you as my wife, as the mother of my son, and as the woman I will be proud to have by my side until the end of my days.’

  She stared at him for a moment and then gave a resigned shrug. ‘If you say so, Arthur. If you say so.’

  ‘Is this all because of the boy’s measles?’

  ‘Not entirely.There have been other burdens to bear while you have been away, and I am not sure that I can run the household by myself. There seems so much to it.’

  ‘Other burdens?’

  She bit her lip and looked at him uncertainly. ‘There is something else I need to tell you.’

  Arthur felt yet more weight descend upon his shoulders and depress his spirits, even as he responded in an understanding manner. ‘What is that, my love?’

  ‘I believe . . . I think that I am expecting another child.’

  ‘That is good,’Arthur replied softly, then beamed.‘What am I saying? That is better than good.That is excellent news!’ He raised Kitty’s hands to his lips and kissed them. ‘Thank you, my dear.’

  A smile flickered across Kitty’s face as she saw the genuine happiness in her husband’s eyes. ‘At least I can do something that pleases you.’

  Chapter 30

  My Dear Brother,

  I write briefly to let it be known to you that his majesty’s government has determined to land a significant body of British soldiers on the continent before the year is out.The object of such an expedition is to offer encouragement to our allies who readily complain that Britain is only prepared to pay in gold what they pay in blood in opposing Bonaparte. As yet I have not been able to discover the destination of the expeditionary force, and will communicate any further information to you on this matter as soon as it is available to me. Arthur, I know that you believe that you best serve your country in a military rather than a civil capacity and I would commend this opportunity to you. However, there are sure to be plenty of officers of equal or superior rank, albeit inferior in ability, who will be competing furiously to be included in such an operation.Therefore, I would urge you to repair to London as soon as possible in order to make your representations in person to the War Office.

  Richard.

  Arthur folded the letter and set it down on the table beside his plate, with the others that he had opened and read since the meal had begun. He picked up his knife and began to cut into his steak.

  There was a light cough from the other side of the table as Kitty gestured towards the letter. ‘No bad news there, I trust?’

  ‘No. None.’

  ‘It’s just that I recognised Richard’s hand and wondered what he had written that caused you to frown so.’

  Arthur thought quickly before replying. There was no sense in upsetting Kitty over something that might never happen. ‘I was not frowning, my dear, just concentrating. Richard merely wishes to know if we are well, and if our son is thriving.’

  ‘I see.That is all?’

  ‘Yes,’ Arthur replied, and hurriedly impaled a piece of meat and popped it into his mouth. His mind raced as it dealt with the message that Richard had sent him.

  It was true that he saw himself as a soldier first, a politician a poor second. The chance of joining an expedition to the continent to fight the Corsican tyrant was tempting in the extreme. Yet, as Richard had said, it was vital that he present his case for inclusion in person. He must leave Dublin as soon as possible.

  ‘I find it strange that Richard should write with such trivial concerns,’ Kitty continued. ‘It is unlike him.’

  ‘He must have time on his hands,’ Arthur replied. ‘There is no hope of returning to high office for a while yet.’

  ‘No. I suppose not.’ Kitty raised another small piece of meat to her mouth and chewed a moment before continuing. ‘Which makes it all the more odd that he did not take the time to write to you at more length.’

  Arthur lowered his knife and fork and stared across the table at his wife. ‘Kitty, I do not know the man’s mind.Whether he chooses to write at length or not is a matter for Richard.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Arthur dear. I did not mean to upset you.’

  ‘You have not upset me,’ Arthur said coldly.

  Arthur did not like to deceive his wife and he knew well enough that the idea of his going off to war would alarm her. Besides, it was one thing to be excited by the possibility of a military command on active service, and quite another to be fortunate enough to be granted such an appointment in practice. He smiled to himself as it occurred to him that it was perverse to think of the prospect of danger as an opportunity to be grasped.Yet without the war with France, he would never have had the chance to improve his lot in life, doomed for ever to be a younger son of a minor aristocratic family casting about for a well-heeled wife to save
him from penury.

  ‘What are you thinking of, my dear?’

  Arthur glanced up guiltily, and at once composed his expression into a mask of indifference. ‘Just something someone said to me today.’

  ‘Oh? And what was that?’

  ‘It does not matter. It is of no consequence,’ Arthur replied abruptly and instantly regretted his tone as he saw the hurt look flit across his wife’s face. She had been attempting to make small talk, to play the part of the dutifully attentive wife, only to be curtly rebuffed. He decided to attempt to divert her attention from the pain he had caused and clapped his hands together. ‘So tell me, how is our son today?’

  Kitty started at the sudden noise and then smiled nervously. ‘Arthur is much better. I think he has almost recovered from the measles now.’