Flashman and the Emperor

by Robert Brightwell

  “What on earth is this place?” I asked.

  “Have you got your tinderbox?” Aphrodite replied. “There are normally some candles in a tin by the door. Ah, here they are.” A few moments later I had a flame going and we had lit two of the candles. It was then that I saw we were standing at the entrance to a tiny castle, with a gothic door, three-quarters of the normal size, right in front of us. As I moved the candle, I was given a start by a pair of fierce eyes glaring at me, but closer inspection revealed that they were made of glass and embedded in the wooden head of a gargoyle guarding the door. “King John had this built for his children to play in; the emperor and his brother spent many hours here,” she announced. “The key should be under this lion statue,” she continued, lifting something near her feet. “Yes, here it is. We will have our own castle tonight.”

  Normally, I would have been all eager, but pushing our way into a dark old shed at the bottom of a garden that she had earlier told me was infested with poisonous snakes and spiders, well it rather tempered my ardour. “Are you sure it is safe? I would not want you getting bitten by something poisonous. Perhaps it would be better to go back into town.”

  “Don’t worry, it is swept every day. The emperor’s little daughter plays here now.”

  “How on earth do you know all this?” I asked.

  “Pandora,” she stated simply. Her friend was plainly a more recent mistress than I had first thought; which explained why both the empress and the lover had looked so bitter at the mention of her name. The door creaked open and we both stooped to go inside. A candelabrum was soon lit, together with more candles in wall sconces, to reveal a table with a little throne at each end; there were pieces of children’s armour, heraldic flags on the walls and on the far side, two small beds. As we pushed them together, I was pleased to note that there was not a single cobweb anywhere.

  Compared to our first drug-fuelled coupling, this time it was a slower, sometimes hesitant and more intimate affair. We fell asleep in each other’s arms and when I awoke some hours later it took me a moment to remember where I was. A children’s castle, I reflected, was as good a place as any to consider the future, for it seemed we were playing at a war we could not possibly win. But what could I do? The sensible thing would be to go down to the harbour and find one of the merchant ships bound for Britain and pay for a passage home. But how could I look Cochrane in the eye after that betrayal? He was one of my oldest friends. I had a sudden vivid memory of the time he had risked all to rescue me from being hideously tortured to death by some sadistic bastard in Spain. Yes, I know I am a poltroon through and through and I have done some despicable things in my time, but even I have some standards. There are a handful of men and women whose opinion of me I valued, and Cochrane was one of them.

  “What are you thinking about?” asked a sleepy voice beside me.

  “The future.”

  “Are you worried?” she asked.

  “Of course. From what you have told me, I would be mad if I wasn’t.” She slid away from me then and I heard her clattering about in the dark room. “What are you doing?” I asked and then, by way of an answer, she moved a hatch in the roof of the little castle to reveal a square of the star-laden night sky.

  “Come up here,” she whispered. “There is a ladder.” The square was briefly obscured as she went up onto the little battlements. “Look,” she declared as I stood beside her. We were a good way up the hill behind the palace and had a view covering the whole city and harbour. Even though it must have been in the small hours of the morning, this being Rio, there was still a profusion of lights shining from windows and streets as well as the lights of the ships in the harbour. She reached out and held my hand. “I have never been anywhere else,” she whispered, “but people tell me that this place is special.”

  I thought back to my own first impressions, the vibrancy and colour, but also Rio’s darker side: the casual use of slavery for every menial task. “I have never come across a city quite like it,” I answered honestly.

  “I was born over there,” she said, pointing to the western quarter of the town. “My mother died when I was five and we were not sure who my father was.”

  “What is your real name?” I asked, curious.

  For over a minute she did not say anything and just when I thought she would not answer, she finally whispered, “Clara.” I stared down at her face, still staring out over the city, and saw that there was a tear running down her cheek. “Madame Sousa gives us all professional names.” She spoke quietly. “She says it helps keep things separate, so we don’t forget who we really are.” The grip of her hand tightened on mine. Suddenly she looked at me. “I am a Carioca,” she declared fiercely. “I know this city is not perfect, but it is all that I have and I think Pedro will try to make it better. When I listened to the freemasons, all they talked about was what was best for them, there was never a thought for the people.” She took a deep breath and then asked, “Do you think your admiral can really help Pedro?”

  I stared down at her eyes glistening in the moonlight and opened my mouth to answer, but then hesitated. For Aphrodite I could have given some sweeping reassurance, but not for Clara. For once I answered honestly. “I cannot make you promises, but I have known Cochrane for over twenty years and have seen him succeed countless times when everyone else thought it was impossible. If anyone can help your emperor it is him.” I paused, thinking back to his reaction when we had given him her news, and how he had sounded after his long audience with the emperor. “If Cochrane was here now, Clara,” I said, deliberately using her real name, “he would look you in the eye and give you his word that he will do everything in his power to help your emperor.” I turned to face her, wiping her tear away with my thumb. “But as he is not here, you will have to accept that pledge from me.” Dammit, but I meant it then too!

  She threw herself into my arms and at length we made love again under the stars on that tiny fortress. Afterwards I lay regarding the night sky and, strangely, I felt better. The Portuguese might have hundreds more ships, thousands more soldiers and over half the country, but we had Cochrane, the man they thought was in league with the Devil. All in all, it seemed a fair fight.

  I awoke the next day to birdsong and dappled sunlight coming through the trees. Judging from the height of the sun, it was well into the morning. There was the sound of people talking in the distance and the rattle of crockery as servants cleaned up after the reception. Then I heard a child laugh nearby and sat up and peered over the battlements. A little girl was walking towards the castle holding the hands of two women. One was the empress of Brazil, which was alarming enough, but to my horror, the other was Maria Graham. I stared around; I was wearing my shirt and Clara had on a loose shift, but the rest of our clothes were still in the little fortress room below. The women were only ten yards off; there would never be time to get down the ladder, grab our possessions and escape. We were only seconds away from the scandal of the empress of Brazil finding one of her husband’s naval captains in flagrante delicto with a woman to whom she had already shown animosity. On top of that, after my taunting of her the previous night, Maria would delight in embarrassing me.

  “Wake up,” I hissed at Clara. “The empress is coming.” As she stirred herself into consciousness, I heard the women below exclaiming, as they noticed that the fort door was already unlocked.

  “Should we call the palace guards?” I heard Maria ask.

  “No, the servants probably forgot to lock it when they cleaned it yesterday.” A moment later and the little party below crossed the threshold. I was already starting to lower Clara over the back wall of the fort from the battlements and heard their exclamations of outrage as they saw the scene we had left in the fortress. “Oh my God,” cried the empress. “Those friends of my husband are animals. They cannot even control their lust long enough for a palace reception.”

  “I know that coat!” cried Maria as she must have seen my over-decorated uniform jacket lying on
the floor. Unfortunately, at that moment Clara gave a little squeal as I let her go the last four feet down to the ground. “They are still on the roof! exclaimed Maria and I heard her rushing for the ladder. I was just raising a leg over the battlements myself when her head appeared through the hatch, with my jacket brandished in one hand like a trophy. “Call the guards, Your Majesty, I have the villain.”

  “Wait, please be reasonable,” I started, moving back towards her. “We need to avoid any scandal for the sake of the emperor.” But before I got any further, I heard the empress herself coming up the ladder.

  “Who is it?” Her Majesty enquired as her head appeared through the hatch. Without really thinking, I snatched my jacket from Maria and put it on. Perhaps I felt it was better to be properly dressed on my upper half, even though my lower half was damn near stark bollock naked.

  “I apologise, Your Majesty,” I started, backing away again towards the battlement. I was holding my shirt front over my wedding tackle, to avoid committing an act of lèse-majesté on top of the other crimes of the morning.

  “You are that man who was with that harlot friend of my husband!” accused the empress and if she needed any further information, then Maria was only too happy to provide it.

  “His name is Thomas Flashman, Your Majesty,” she announced. “He is a vile reprobate, who has inveigled his way into your husband’s navy. He should be arrested and sent to the British consul in disgrace.” It is true what they say about hell having no fury like a woman scorned. For barely were these words out of her mouth, than she was moving to the front of the little fort and yelling loudly for the palace guards.

  There are some situations you can talk your way out of, and others where it is wiser to cut your losses and run for it. This was obviously one of the latter. So abandoning any sense of decorum, I swung a leg over the battlements and jumped down onto the soft earth below. The empress was yelling for me to stop, while Clara, from some nearby bushes, was calling for me to follow her. It was not hard to work out who to obey. In a moment, I was up and running.

  Any early-morning visitors to the imperial palace gardens that day, were undoubtedly surprised by the vision that confronted them as we made our escape. A pretty girl, squealing with laughter, followed by a bare-arsed admiral, hurdling the flower beds of begonias, with two palace guards in lumbering pursuit. We managed to shake off our pursuers in some shrubbery and were fortunate that when a larger detachment of guards appeared, there was a waist-high wall nearby for me to stand behind. Appearing the epitome of military splendour, I demanded to know from the commander what was going on. He explained that intruders had been reported in the gardens and I wished him luck in finding them. Then as an apparent afterthought, I suggested that he leave a man behind to guard myself and my companion from these villains. A young sentry was duly provided. Once the rest had disappeared, I suggested that he escort Clara through the gardens to the stables. There is probably no finer expert in separating an eager young man from his trousers than Clara. A couple of minutes after they had disappeared down a path, she came running back, smiling and clutching the garment and boots.

  Chapter 13

  I was back on the Pedro Primeiro, or the Emperor, as we now called the ship for brevity, by noon. Properly dressed, my uniform had been enough to commandeer a carriage back to the city. I arrived only just before my sword, hat and other clothes were returned from the palace, along with a note from the emperor. He wrote to Cochrane that while the empress was demanding my dismissal, he only required that I be excluded from any future visits to the palace. That was fine by me; I had no intention of going back and in any case, I was soon to be distracted by enemies who could do me much greater harm.

  If we were in any doubt about the power of our adversaries within Rio, we did not have to wait long. The day after the ball, the Brazilian minister in charge of the navy issued orders for us to sail. We were to proceed immediately to the Portuguese-held port of Salvador in Bahia Province, where their huge fleet awaited us… and blockade it.

  That afternoon Cochrane called his officers together to discuss how we should proceed. He relayed the information we had learned at the ball to those who had not been there. Then he put his most recent instructions, bearing the imperial seal, on the table before him. After he finished reading the orders, he looked around the table at a row of shocked and surprised faces.

  “Well I cannot sail,” insisted Taylor, who commanded the powerful frigate called the Nitherohy. “I have absolutely no supplies at all on board. I need food, water, powder and ammunition and ideally some spare sails and cordage too, as what we have aloft at the minute will barely stand a strong blow.”

  “This is madness,” protested Crosbie. “I am sure, sir, that if you went to the emperor directly and explained your position, he would overrule his minister and give you more time to prepare the fleet. After all, it is barely a week since you first stepped aboard your flagship to take command of her.”

  “You may be right,” agreed Cochrane, “but I do wonder what other mischief those who oppose could do while we remain in port. It is only when we get our crews away from those fermenting rebellion that we will have any chance of turning them into an effective fighting force.” He glanced at Crosbie. “How many British and American seamen have we managed to tempt aboard with the increased bonuses?”

  “Over a hundred, sir. Along with the men we brought with us from Chile, they will make up around a third of the crew on the Emperor with the rest split evenly between those with Brazilian and Portuguese loyalties.”

  “Things are roughly the same on my ship,” agreed Captain Beaurepaire of the Maria da Glória. “Only the reliable third are French, of course.” He gave a sad smile and added, “But we are all looking forward to fighting for an emperor again.” Beaurepaire had been an officer in the French navy under Napoleon. When his old emperor had fallen, he and many of his crew had joined Bonapartists in fleeing France and making a fresh start in the New World.

  “Well this time let’s hope you are on the winning side,” stated Cochrane returning his smile warmly. The only other sizeable ships available to sail were the frigate Piranga under the American Captain Jowett and a corvette called the Liberal under a Brazilian officer. The remaining naval vessels in the harbour were a small brig and a schooner that would be of little use other than to convey messages. All of these other vessels had a crew with evenly divided loyalties.

  “Perhaps we should put the Portuguese sailors ashore if we cannot rely on them and sail with just the Brazilian and foreign sailors,” suggested Jowett.

  “If we did,” said Cochrane, “assuming we took the flagship, we would only have enough men for one, maybe two other ships.” The admiral paused as he considered the idea further and then slowly shook his head. “No, we would struggle to maintain a blockade with such a small force and there are many with divided loyalties. We cannot be sure that all those who would do us harm would leave if given the opportunity. Some may be disguised amongst the Brazilians, waiting for the opportunity to act.” He stared down at his orders one more time, tapping them with his finger, and then he seemed to reach a decision. “No, gentlemen. We will not embarrass the emperor by highlighting the disloyalty among his sailors. We will wait a couple of days to get all necessary supplies and stores on board and then the entire fleet, with the exception of the Nitherohy, will put to sea.” He looked at Taylor, “I will leave you to follow us as soon as you can.”

  “But what will we do when we get to Salvador?” I asked. “Even with the whole fleet we will be massively outnumbered, that is if half the crews do not mutiny when faced with the reality of fighting their old comrades.”

  “You worry too much, Thomas,” laughed Cochrane. “We have nearly a thousand miles to cover to reach Salvador and it will take us a month to get there. That is plenty of time to work on the crews to get them into shape.” Several of the other captains exchanged glances at that and I was sure that I was not the only one who thought that Cochr
ane’s hopes to transform his crew to a loyal and efficient force in that time were optimistic at best.

  “But still,” I persisted, “even if the crew are willing to fight, we are still going to be four, maybe five warships once the Nitherohy is on station, against nine, not to mention a vast number of armed merchants.”

  “Just let me worry about that,” replied Cochrane. “You should know better than anyone here that I usually have a plan or two up my sleeve when we engage the enemy.” He looked around the table and must have sensed the anxieties we all held, for he gave a deep breath before continuing. “Gentlemen, the alternative to sailing now is to simply rot in harbour as dissent and division pull our crews apart. We have given the emperor our word and taken his commission to fight for him. Don’t forget we have factors in our favour too. A few ships well managed can cut through a large fleet like barracuda through a shoal of mackerel. The Portuguese admiral will be just as worried about us. He knows our reputation from Chile and will be alarmed at what tactics we might employ against him. I am not going to tell you it will be easy, but the enemy does not hold all the advantages.”

  “We won’t let you down, sir,” declared Crosbie and the others slowly nodded in agreement. I think Crosbie only spoke up out of a sense of duty as Cochrane’s flag captain, as he could see his admiral needed some support.

  “Well,” I declared. “I think that you are all stark raving mad if you think you can beat the Portuguese.” An expression of anger crossed Cochrane’s face but I held up my hand to stop him speaking while I continued. “But then I thought you were insane when you suggested that the fifty of us on the Speedy could take that Spanish frigate with three hundred and fifty on board; or that other time when you told me that thirty seamen could see off a small Spanish army at that little fort in Estepona. In fact, having studied your career for over twenty years, I have long since concluded that you are at your most dangerous when everyone thinks you cannot possibly win. So I will stick with you and see what madness you come up with this time.”