Burke in the Land of Silver

by Tom Williams

  James sighed. Maria Luisa was known to have a fascination for South America and for men from that distant reach of the Spanish Empire. It was time for him to do his duty to his country.

  *

  James woke in a tangle of bed sheets. Beside him, the Queen lay still asleep. It was late afternoon and the light that penetrated past the shutters was kind to Maria Luisa. She opened her eyes, saw James looking at her, and reached to pull his face to hers.

  When he kissed her, he was surprised to realise that he felt some real affection. It was hard not to like someone who was so open in their enthusiasm for a younger body lying on their own. Though she was a monarch and could demand attention, she was also a woman no longer in her first youth. Older women, James thought, were always grateful. That was part of their attraction.

  The Queen pulled him closer to her, her free hand fumbling for his manhood. That was another part of her appeal, thought James. In the end, those women who most devotedly worshipped at Aphrodite’s shrine could not help but give off an aura of eroticism denied to their less enthusiastic sisters. James would rather spend the night with an ugly libertine than with a beautiful woman who did not truly enjoy what he had to offer.

  And then again, she was a queen.

  *

  James opened his eyes and peered uncertainly as William hovered over him with tea.

  ‘What time do you call this?’

  ‘It’s noon, sir. I thought it best to wake you.’

  ‘Noon,’ he groaned.

  James struggled to remember what he had been doing the night before. As he sipped the tea William gave him, the details began to sort themselves in his brain. He found himself rather wishing that they hadn’t.

  ‘I’m getting too old for this, William,’ he said. ‘The palace here makes a Roman orgy look like a little light relaxation after a bishop’s tea party.’

  ‘One must think of England, sir. The situation does seem to be providing a flow of useful intelligence.’

  That was true, at least, James thought, massaging his temples. Maria Luisa’s interest in South America was far from superficial and she was happy – in the brief intervals between her demands that they make love – to talk about the political situation and the various agitators who were travelling around the courts of Europe drumming up support for their various revolutionary movements. She was informative, too, about Spanish policy, including the logic behind de Liniers’ recent appointment as viceroy.

  ‘He’s an awful man but the people adore him since he drove the English out. And he’s ambitious. As long as he’s viceroy, he’ll keep La Plata loyal rather than risk losing his position.’

  It was, James thought, an accurate summing up of de Liniers’ character. She was less insightful when it came to Napoleon.

  ‘Ghastly man isn’t even French, my love. He’s a Corsican and every inch the grubby provincial.’

  ‘So why does Spain ally with him?’

  ‘Because he’s got a big army and he is fighting the British. I know you’re French too but you must appreciate that your revolution can’t last for ever. Eventually the monarchy will be restored – it’s just the way things are. And then Napoleon’s empire will fall and the old powers will rise again. And Spain with them.’

  James found it difficult to give a careful political analysis whilst nibbling the Queen’s neck but he did his best.

  ‘I fear Napoleon may be more cunning than you give him credit for, Your Majesty.’

  Maria Luisa wriggled against him in a way that made concentration on matters of state even more problematic, but James persevered.

  ‘He does not want Spain as an ally but as a part of his empire. He plans to seize your throne and have Spain ruled by his brother.’

  James brought his mind sharply back to the present.

  ‘She didn’t believe me, William.’

  ‘Did you tell her about the Portuguese, sir?’

  ‘As much as I dared.’

  The Portuguese royal family, with Napoleon’s armies already moving into Spain, feared a French takeover and was already preparing contingency plans. If Napoleon continued to threaten them, the court was to be evacuated to Brazil. The British were to provide ships to assist the evacuation. The Duke of York had made sure all this was passed on to Burke in the hope that the news might shake the Spanish out of their complacency.

  ‘I can only hint at the Portuguese plans, in case the Queen takes it into her head to let the French know what’s afoot.’

  By now, James was out of bed and William was busy shaving him.

  ‘Best not talk for a moment, sir. I like to shave close what with your being a courtier now – and I wouldn’t want to cut you.’

  For a moment, there was silence as William negotiated the blade around his master’s neck.

  ‘The Queen’s daughter’s married to the king in Lisbon, isn’t she?’

  ‘Not quite, William. Technically, he’s not the king, but his mother’s quite mad so he rules as regent. You’re right, though. If she has the sense to talk to Princess Carlota, she might come to her senses and disentangle herself from the French.’

  ‘Best keep trying, then, sir.’

  ‘I suppose I had.’ He sighed. ‘It had better be oysters for lunch again, William.’

  *

  James tried for another month to convince Maria Luisa of the danger posed by the French but to no avail. By then he had sucked her dry of information and he feared that she was beginning to tire of him. It seemed an opportune point at which to invent a business crisis in Paris and leave the Spanish court.

  Once back in France, James and William travelled to Brittany and thence they were smuggled across to England with twenty casks of brandy. It was, as James remarked, a good thing for the British spy network that smugglers would not let a little thing like continental warfare come between them and their profits.

  James was allowed a week to recover after his exertions in Spain, before being ordered to Horse Guards again. This time he did not see the Duke of York but his aide-de-camp. Colonel Gordon had recently taken over from Colonel Taylor and was the new de facto head of British Intelligence. He had read Burke’s report and had few questions to add.

  ‘That seems most satisfactory, Captain Burke. A fine effort. It will substantially advance our plans for an expedition against the Spanish Americas. But I think we have probably exhausted your potential in that sphere.’

  ‘I hope not, sir. I retain the strongest enthusiasm for British activity in South America.’

  ‘That’s as may be but we have, thanks to your efforts in Madrid, a detailed understanding of the Spanish forces in the New World and, after your adventures last year, fine charts of the defences they have in place. It remains only to put together an army.’ Gordon grimaced. ‘Of course, with Napoleon lording it over half Europe, finding the men to send to the Americas may take rather longer than we had hoped. Meanwhile, we have other things that are a more immediate concern. Speaking of which . . .’ The colonel leaned forward, confidentially. ‘There is another matter you could assist with. It’s an issue of some delicacy . . .’

  *

  The ‘issue of some delicacy’ was to occupy Burke for almost a year. He moved from country to country, negotiating with allies here; spying on enemies there. All the time, it seemed, Napoleon’s strength grew. Allegiances shifted and alliances crumbled and Burke would often find himself both negotiating and spying at the same time.

  He was in Berlin when the message came. He was on attachment to Blücher’s staff and he had been practising with a sabre in the gymnasium. As he wiped off the sweat, an adjutant came into the changing rooms and saluted smartly.

  The Duke of York wanted to see him. He was to return to London immediately.

  *

  He was back in the familiar office in Horse Guards, sipping smuggled sherry while Frederick Augustus, Duke of York, made polite conversation about Burke’s time in South America.

  ‘My wife did appreciate the jewell
ery. I didn’t realise that they produced diamonds in La Plata.’

  ‘They do, sir, though these were purchased in Brazil. The mining region in La Plata is in the north east, near the Brazilian border.’

  ‘Quite. Quite.’ The prince sipped again at his sherry. ‘Actually, it’s your efforts in Madrid that are rather more pertinent to our present conversation.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘You report that you told the Queen that you had business in Paris. Do you think that it would be possible for you to return to Spain?’

  ‘It would be quite possible, sir. My business in Spain was never completed and it would be quite natural that I should return.’

  ‘Good. I thought that would be the case. And your relations with the Queen remain satisfactory?’

  Burke thought of their last meeting. She had called him a naughty boy and told him that she would punish him, and had then proceeded to make love with a fierce abandon that had left him exhausted for the whole of the journey to Brittany.

  ‘Quite satisfactory, I think, sir,’ he said.

  ‘Excellent. You will know, I assume, that Napoleon has moved his armies through Spain to attack Portugal. A lot of the Spanish see this as an invasion, and I can’t say I disagree with them. They blame the court, and there have been riots.’ The Duke smiled grimly. ‘The people rising to protest against the product of the French revolution! It’s rather wonderfully ironic, don’t you think?’

  James nodded politely and the Duke continued.

  ‘There’s pressure on the King to abdicate. Or he has abdicated. Or he’s going to abdicate. The situation is, to put it mildly, confused. Anyway, there are those within the Spanish court who would like England to offer them assistance – though whether to resist Napoleon or to fly to South America like the Portuguese really isn’t clear. We need a man in Madrid. Someone who knows his way around the court and who is trusted by the Queen. It the Queen that matters, not the king.’ The Duke looked up reflectively. ‘I met him once, you know. Nice enough chap. Rather vague. Not terribly bright.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The Duke started, as if recalled to the present by Burke’s voice.

  ‘Well, you know the Queen. You’re our man. Colonel Gordon will give you the details.’

  Burke, understanding that he was dismissed, rose to leave.

  ‘One last thing, Burke. The duchess really did appreciate the jewellery. And you did a good job in Prussia. You’re being made up to major. It’ll be in the Gazette next week.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Don’t thank me, Burke. You deserve it. Now get yourself to Madrid and let’s see if we can stop Napoleon before he has the whole of Spain in his pocket.’

  *

  The trip back to Madrid went without incident, although James was frustrated by delay at almost every stage. First, the weather in the Channel was too rough for a crossing in the small boats the smugglers used. When it cleared, there was a full moon and no one was prepared to risk the run when excise men and naval patrols would find it all too easy to intercept them. When he finally made it to France, the stagecoach from Paris was repeatedly held up as the roads were closed to allow priority to Napoleon’s troops marching south.

  At the border with Spain, though, there were no delays at all. They were waved through with no checks whatsoever. It was enough that the coach and its passengers were French. The Spanish had clearly prevaricated for too long. Their French allies were now quietly annexing their country.

  In Madrid, James learned that the royal family had left their palace. They had moved to the king’s fabulously opulent new home, the Casita del Labrador at Aranjuez. While the Casita was undeniably lovely, James did wonder if its main attraction might be that it was built on the Tagus. Madrid had no direct access to the sea but, from the castle grounds, the King could set off directly downriver. The Tagus had provided the Portuguese with their opportunity to escape Napoleon. Perhaps the Spanish court was planning a similar evacuation.

  James and William left Madrid early to travel the thirty miles to Aranjuez. The road was in good repair and the stagecoach rattled into town before noon, allowing them the opportunity to find accommodation and announce their arrival to the court that afternoon. To James’ relief, a note arrived at his lodgings that evening, summoning him to an audience with the Queen the next day.

  As he dressed his master in the morning, William made sure that every detail of his outfit was in the height of fashion. Spanish court style being quite formal, he even wore a wig, which William carefully powdered while James worked his way through a dozen of the oysters that had become his staple diet in Madrid.

  In the event, though, these preparations were unnecessary. For once in her life, the Queen’s attentions were not devoted to sex. After a year trying to convince herself that the throne was safe, she was now faced with the reality of a French takeover. Her sense of betrayal dominated everything.

  She seized on James as a French friend who might give her some clues as to how she could, even at this stage, avert disaster.

  ‘I know that most French men are like you, Alain. They are honest. They are loyal. In their hearts, they would see the monarchy restored. It’s this Napoleon who is the problem.’

  The Queen had invited him to share wine and tapas in her private apartments and, except for the servants, they were alone. She was so agitated she could not sit still, but paced back and forth. James thought that, though any beauty she had once possessed was faded, her anger brought a fierce attractiveness that made him almost regret that their meeting seemed to be concerned with the political to the exclusion of the personal.

  She picked up an olive, biting into it so viciously that James feared she might break one of her remaining teeth. Then, pausing, she looked at the bowl as if it had given her an idea.

  ‘Perhaps I could poison him?’ She turned to James. ‘Would that stop this whole wretched business? Napoleon dead of poison.’

  ‘I think there might be practical problems, Your Majesty.’

  ‘I could invite him to a state dinner. We could feast all night and I could have arsenic put in his wine.’

  ‘I think he is unlikely to come. And, if he does, there will be precautions taken.’

  ‘What can I do, Alain? How can I stop your countrymen from destroying us? The people are blaming Charles. They say he favoured the French and that it is because of him they are invading us.’

  James felt that the time was right to push the Queen toward a commitment to take help from the British, but he had to move carefully.

  ‘Your Majesty has always said that an alliance with France would, in the long run, work to the benefit of Spain.’

  ‘I don’t care about the long run! I care about what is happening now! There are pamphlets printed denouncing my husband. Sr Godoy – who, as you know, is a very dear friend,’ (James was careful not to smile as she spoke of her one-time lover) ‘says that he has been insulted in the street. Windows have been broken. The captain of my personal guard says that we cannot even be entirely confident of the loyalty of the garrison.’

  ‘Perhaps, then, it is time to turn away from France.’

  ‘That would mean turning to England.’

  James shrugged.

  ‘Surely, madam, that prospect is not so utterly repugnant.’

  The Queen resumed her pacing, her agitation somehow the more unnerving because of the careful elegance of the room, with its tapestry hangings and finely carved furniture.

  ‘The king’s policy has been built on enmity with England. England envies our South American colonies. They have seized the Malvinas Islands. They invaded Buenos Aires. They harbour rebels like Miranda and indulge their crazy schemes. England’s Nelson has destroyed our navy. How can we expect help from the English?’

  ‘In my business I have often dealt with the English. I know that they harbour no animosity toward Spain.’

  The Queen continued to walk back and forth.

  ‘If France has tur
ned against us, perhaps we will need to ask the English to intervene. But, Alain, is there no chance that France will behave honourably and remove her troops?’

  ‘The French are an honourable people, Your Majesty. But, alas, we are dealing here not with the people of France, but with Napoleon.’

  ‘So I must turn to England for help.’ She paused, as if trying to come to terms with the idea, before adding, ‘I must talk to Godoy before deciding on so dramatic a reversal of our policy.’ And then, remembering herself, ‘And, of course, the final decision would be the king’s.’

  *

  That evening James thought that something might yet be recovered from the wreckage. With Napoleon’s forces in Lisbon, evacuating the royal family down the Tagus would be difficult but, while the Royal Navy commanded the seas off Portugal, it was not impossible. In any case, if he were able to persuade the court to announce that Spain had joined the alliance against Napoleon, the Spanish people would be likely to rise against the French. This would tie down French troops, which would be an achievement in itself.

  He was just congratulating himself that his mission seemed likely to bring England some real benefits when his thoughts were disturbed by the sound of shouting and breaking glass outside his lodgings. Opening the door to see what was the cause of the commotion, he heard shots.

  The noise was coming from the direction of the palace. James hurried down the wide boulevards, which all converged on the royal residence. The riot (for that was clearly what it was) was centred on a house a few hundred yards from the palace gates.

  The mob was not just the usual ruffians. Apparently respectable people were shouting, urging on the rougher elements in front.

  ‘Drag out the traitor, Godoy!’

  At the front of the crowd, James thought he could just make out some soldiers, apparently trying to maintain control. Other troops, though, were joining the mob, baying insults at the French and denouncing Godoy as a traitor.

  Suddenly the crowd surged forward. Any attempt that the authorities might have been making to hold them back had clearly failed. There was the sound of more glass breaking and a splintering as the doors of the house were forced.