by Tom Williams
Ana laughed again but harshly.
‘This is Santiago de Liniers you are talking about, James. Do you expect him to offer you the hand of friendship?’
‘I have an alternative proposition to put to him.’
He explained Carlota’s proposal. Ana appeared unconvinced but James explained its benefits for La Plata.
‘De Liniers would move to Monte Video and, in effect, rule the Banda Orientale as first minister at the court of Princess Carlota. He would not be running a colony any more but a principality, with its own sovereignty and sway over all the other Spanish possessions in the Americas – including La Plata.’
Ana shook her head.
‘He won’t accept it, James. He thinks Napoleon could win the war in Europe. He’s happy for La Plata to remain a Spanish colony in name but he wants to be in a position to hand it to the French if they become the dominant power in the world. And, until then, he wants to enjoy the rule of La Plata. Don’t you remember, James? It’s all about power – and here Santiago de Liniers is the power. His title may be viceroy but there is no king in Spain. He runs the province how he wants, answering to no one.’
Burke thought of Paco Iglesias and his dreams of an independent Argentina, of the gauchos singing to the country of their birth, and of the citizens of Buenos Aires who had risen to drive the British from their country. The people of La Plata had put de Liniers where he was, and now he would betray their dreams to hold on to his position.
‘So de Liniers is just to be allowed to walk away with everything he wants. He gets to keep the viceroyalty; he gets to keep his gold.’ James stopped and looked at Ana who was sitting, flushed but trying desperately to regain some composure. ‘He gets to keep you.’
‘He doesn’t own me, James.’
‘No? You’re to be at the dinner tonight – his acknowledged consort. A Spanish viceroy with a mistress he flaunts in public! It’s unheard of. But it’s not love, Ana. If he loved you, you wouldn’t be hiding away here – you’d be in the palace with him. It’s ownership.’
Now Ana was on her feet, her face tight with fury but James continued.
‘You know what drives de Liniers, Ana. It’s power. Having you sit beside him as his consort shows that he has the power to ignore protocol because his rule here is absolute. And keeping you here as his woman shows he has power over you.’
Ana’s arm swung out and James felt the crash of a blow on his face. She had not slapped him: she had punched him.
‘How dare you talk to me like that! Here in my own home.’
‘A home de Liniers paid for.’
It was a guess but, in truth, where else could she have got the money?
Her arm swung back again but this time James caught her wrist. It would not do for His Majesty’s representative to meet the Viceroy with a face covered in bruises.
‘He owns you, Ana. You’re bought and paid for.’
Suddenly the fight seemed to go out of her. She seemed almost to collapse where she stood and James found himself supporting her by the wrist that he had seized.
‘I saved your life, James.’
James stood absolutely still. Then, carefully, as if handling something unbearably fragile, he released her wrist and set her down on her chair.
He remained standing and seemed to be struggling to find words. Finally, he spoke.
‘Oh, God, Ana. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’
Ana looked up. She seemed to be smiling at him, though her shoulders shook with quiet sobbing.
‘It was hardly a fate worse than death, James. He was already my lover. And he can be very generous.’ The sobbing stopped. ‘You’re quite right: he paid for the house. I have an allowance twice what Mr O’Gorman gave me and considerably fewer expenses to meet from it. And I think he really rather likes me.’
She sat up, very straight in her chair speaking slowly, as if considering every word.
‘But you’re quite right, James. It’s still about power. I am another proof of his authority. I am another man’s wife and yet I am his acknowledged mistress. And I am sure part of my attraction is that he stole me from you.’
She paused and looked him in the eye as she continued.
‘If you stay here, de Liniers will know. He pays my servants and they are not fools. If you stay, he will take his revenge on you.’
‘And on you.’
‘His revenge on me will be to have me watch as he destroys you.’
‘Then perhaps it is wiser that I leave.’
Ana was still fixing him with her eyes.
‘It’s making the wise choice that has brought me here, James.’
One moment, it seemed to James that she was sitting there, watching him; the next she was standing and their arms held each other as if they were each clinging to the only thing that could save them.
*
On leaving Ana’s house, James returned directly to the ship. There, William greeted him with more than his usual good humour.
‘Miss Simkins was pleased to see you, I take it.’
William’s broad grin was sufficient answer but his smile faded as he noticed James’ sombre demeanour.
‘Mrs O’Gorman wasn’t pleased to see you, sir?’
‘On the contrary, William, Mrs O’Gorman was delighted to see me. So delighted that there is a distinct possibility that I might meet with an unaccountable accident tonight.’
‘Ah!’
‘“Ah!” indeed, William. I think we had best tread carefully once we are ashore.’
William slipped a knife into his boots as a precaution but, despite James’ concern, there was no evidence that de Liniers intended any assault as William escorted him to the fort that evening. The two arrived without mishap and William left his master at the entrance to the Viceroy’s palace with instructions to return at midnight when the banquet should be ending.
A young officer greeted him as he entered the fort, snapping smartly to attention and saluting the night’s guest of honour.
Burke followed him to a room where de Liniers was waiting. He could hear the buzz of chatter from the grand salon next door, but James knew he would be expected to wait, sipping sherry with his host, until the other guests had all arrived. Only then would they make their entrance.
De Liniers was wearing his dress uniform, but Burke hardly noticed him. For next to him, Ana stood, her dress cut as low as decency would permit. Around her throat was a necklace of diamonds that sparkled brilliantly in the candlelight. Matching jewels hung from her ears. She was beautiful, but a stiffness in the way she stood and a nervousness about her eyes told James that all was not well.
Servants were presenting him with a tray where a glass of sherry stood, waiting for him to take it. Surely de Liniers would not attempt anything as obvious as poison? James took the glass, watching Ana. Her expression did not change. Not poison, then. He sipped.
‘Madame Perichon, you know.’ De Liniers voice was without expression, but his face was a sneer. He took Ana’s hand and raised it to his lips. The gesture was unexpected in the circumstances and de Liniers made it practically obscene.
James nodded an acknowledgement to Ana and she nodded back. She did not offer him her hand to kiss.
He sipped again at his sherry. Neither de Liniers nor Ana were drinking and de Liniers made no attempt at conversation, simply watching silently as Burke tried to ignore his obvious hostility.
Burke replaced his still half-full glass on the tray that a servant was still holding.
De Liniers broke the silence. ‘Shall we go in?’
The admiral held his arm out to Ana and she took it, managing a sort of half-shrug of apology to James, who was forced to follow them alone.
In the grand salon, the cream of Buenos Aires society was seated at a mahogany table that now dominated the room. Light from the chandeliers reflected off the silver place settings. Soldiers in their dress uniforms stood at attention along the walls.
The hubbub quieted as they walked i
n. James noticed Thomas O’Gorman seated toward the foot of the table, his expression troubled as he noticed the Viceroy’s snub in leaving his guest unescorted. As he seated himself, he heard the rumble of disquiet as others, too, wondered what de Liniers’ slight might portend.
James found he had little appetite, which was unfortunate, as the banquet was designed to show the bounty of La Plata and consisted of a seemingly endless procession of courses as beef in all its forms was set before James. The banquet even started with ox-tail soup. Every time that James turned to speak to his host, more food would be set before him and de Liniers spoke only to insist that he eat. There were steaks, ribs, sausages, black puddings. When James was sure that he could face no more beef, whatever the diplomatic consequences, roast mutton appeared and mutton chops. There was some pork to add variety before the fish dishes arrived. To James’ relief, fish were represented by just mackerel and trout. A sorbet of Andean ice was served to clear the palate before an array of desserts brought the meal to a triumphant conclusion.
After the eating came the toasts. A leather exporter – a deadly rival of O’Gorman – gave a toast on behalf of the British community. Señor de la Cruz Bringas represented the Spanish merchants. James had met him after his first communion as Otto Witz and hoped that the Spaniard’s memory for faces was not as good as his own. A clearly confused Monsieur Goriot toasted ‘peace between nations’ in French (a nice touch, James thought) and an Italian – a man of no significance whatsoever – appeared to have been elected to give a toast simply to make up the numbers.
It was then James’ turn to raise his glass to friendship between Britain and Spain and good fellowship between his people and those of La Plata. He kept his speech short, but throughout it, de Liniers watched with no flicker of reaction.
James sat to polite applause that was cut short as de Liniers rose to his feet. He held up an envelope and drew out a letter, which James recognised as the despatches from Admiral Smith.
‘Major James,’ de Liniers began, ‘comes to us as a representative of the British government. He is recommended to us by men of honour in the British forces. Admiral Smith writes that he is . . .’ De Liniers’ made play of finding the reference in the letter. ‘. . . a “distinguished officer”.’ De Liniers turned to Burke with a look of contempt.
‘Some of you may recognise this “distinguished officer”. For we have seen him in Buenos Aires before. There I think he introduced himself to the Société Francaise as Monsieur Bergotte. Others may have known him as Captain Otto Witz. I think only our English friends were privileged to know him by his actual name. Is that not so, Mr James Burke?’
James sat silent. De Liniers was unravelling any possible working arrangement between La Plata and England. This went far beyond revenge because he had slept with Ana, though the public insult was presumably at least in part because of that. No, de Liniers was deliberately turning away the representations of the British Government and the navy’s promises of support against any invasion. The Viceroy’s sympathies for Napoleon went beyond meeting his envoys: he was leaving La Plata undefended so that he could hand it to the French.
De Liniers speech was now in full flow.
‘Britain has sent this man – this spy – to represent them to our government. Of course, they can have had no indication of the sort of person that this James Burke really is.’
It was an oratorical flourish worthy of Mark Antony. If Burke had, indeed, been a British spy, how could the British themselves have been unaware of that? He was accusing George III’s government of acting in bad faith. The angry muttering among his audience and the black looks thrown in James’ direction showed that everyone understood what de Liniers was saying. Even O’Gorman, usually sublimely unaware of any political subtlety, looked worried.
‘We are gathered here to do honour to the British Government and we must not forget that they have offered us their friendship, though the messenger they have sent has been no friend of La Plata. We thank them for their offers of assistance.’
Yes, James thought, but you are careful not to accept those offers. And while you refuse to talk to me, other Napoleonic envoys will be on their way. And all I can do is sit here and listen, while you blacken the name of England and plan to sell your country to its enemies.
By now, de Liniers seemed to be bringing his speech to a close. He reminded his audience of the way they had had to fight for their freedom. He did not have to remind everyone who they had been fighting against.
‘And so, I raise my toast. Not just to our friends in Europe but to peace between all the nations.’
‘Peace between nations.’ It was no coincidence that de Liniers was making the same toast as M Goriot.
After the toast, de Liniers remained standing.
‘Ladies. Gentlemen. I regret that I have to depart from traditional practice for I cannot finish my address with the toast. There is some business I think you would agree that I must conclude at once.’
James was conscious of a stirring amongst the soldiers stood nearest to his place and he knew, before de Liniers spoke, what was to come next.
‘It is essential to the security of La Plata that the spy and enemy of our country, James Burke, should be held immediately. He has travelled here under the protection of his government and, respecting the norms of international conduct, I cannot punish him as he deserves to be punished. But he shall be escorted directly from here to the vessel on which he entered La Plata and I shall request that the ship sail to England on the first tide.’
Soldiers had fallen in behind his seat and a captain was placing his hand on his arm to raise James to his feet. He was to be arrested like a common criminal, taken under guard from a formal dinner where he represented the British Government and King George himself. The insult to man and nation was exquisite.
James looked at de Liniers, standing next to him. The Frenchman made no effort to disguise the sneer on his face.
James knew that he had to buy himself some time. Once he was back aboard ship, his mission was over. If he was to retrieve anything from the wreckage, he had to stay ashore.
He spoke quickly and quietly to de Liniers.
‘You can’t get her back this way.’
De Liniers flushed and James knew that he had swallowed the bait.
‘Take him to my office. Hold him there.’
A soldier marched either side of him as the Captain led him from the salon, two more guards following. The whole of Buenos Aires society watched in silence.
At least, James thought, his insult to de Liniers meant that the Viceroy had rescinded the order to have James taken ‘directly’ to the ship. Instead, he and de Liniers were to have one final meeting. It was up to him to make the best of that.
He was kept waiting in de Liniers’ office for a good half hour while the Viceroy took his leave of his guests. When the Frenchman finally arrived, he sent the soldiers out, ordering them to stand guard at the door.
James had sat while he was waiting. De Liniers walked to the chair and struck him across the face. It was the second time that day he had been hit, and his face felt as if it was on fire, but James made no response.
‘Stand up!’
James stood.
‘You’re filth, Burke. You’re a spy and a coward. If I could, I’d call you out.’
‘There’s nothing I’d like better than a duel with you, de Liniers. But I think that an affair of honour between the Viceroy and the British envoy would have complications.’
De Liniers stared at Burke as if trying to decide whether to hit him again. At last, as if he could no longer bear to look at him, he turned away.
‘I said you were a coward.’
James ignored the insult. He had been so insulted already, he almost didn’t care any more.
‘We’re both constrained by the rules of diplomacy,’ he said. ‘You can’t kill me. You can’t imprison me. All you can do is send me home.’
‘I’ll send you back to England w
ith your name ruined.’
James allowed himself a humourless smile. ‘And you can’t even do that until tomorrow.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Come, de Liniers. It’s night. It’s low tide. You can strike me here and deny it but you send me out across the mud, unexpected, in the middle of the night – well, any accident is going to be a little too public, is it not?’
‘You are not expected back on board?’
‘Certainly not.’ James lied smoothly. ‘I have lodgings arranged on shore and I would like to be taken there.’
If de Liniers agreed to his request, he would be in trouble as there were no lodgings but he was confident that the Viceroy would refuse him.
De Liniers was quick to show him that his confidence was not misplaced.
‘If you stay ashore, you stay here, under guard.’
‘Then I trust you can have a room made up.’
‘You’ll sleep in the cells like the common criminal you are.’
‘I think not, de Liniers. There’s only so much you can insult a representative of the king.’
‘Very well. We’ll tell the King that you spent the night in the Old Chapel. You can pray for your immortal soul.’
James had to admit to himself that the chapel was a nice touch. He knew from his visits to Colonel Calzada Castanio that the Old Chapel was in the block that now contained the guardroom and the fort’s gaol. De Liniers would have the satisfaction of clapping him in the cells while being able to assert that he had done no such thing. The admiral, it seemed to Burke, had an eye for diplomatic niceties.
‘One thing more, Burke. You have insulted me as the Viceroy and you have tried, yet again, to meddle in the affairs of my country. Because of that, you will be going home in dishonour.’ He stepped forward so that his face was just inches from James’. ‘But you have insulted me also as a man. This is for that.’ And he brought his knee sharply up into James’ groin.
James fell to the ground, vomiting the banquet as he lay doubled up in agony.