‘A break-out force. I imagine Mack is hoping that he can at least save his horsemen. Well, we’ll see about that. Berthier, send word to Murat at once. Tell him what is happening and order him to pursue the enemy’s cavalry. They are not to escape. We cannot afford to let them join the other Austrian armies, or Kutusov.’
‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier saluted and swung himself on to his horse to gallop back towards headquarters.
As they watched, the Austrian column began to deploy into line facing the hurriedly forming Grand Army.Then, regiment by regiment, the enemy lowered their weapons to the ground and stood to attention before the astonished eyes of the French soldiers. A large party of officers detached themselves from the Austrian lines and rode slowly towards the French pickets. They were quickly passed through and directed towards the headquarters of the Grand Army.
‘Come on!’ Napoleon ordered. Leading Marshal Lannes, he hurried back to his horse and climbed into the saddle and spurred his mount into a gallop. By the time they reached headquarters Berthier had issued orders for the formation of a guard of honour and the grenadiers of the Old Guard were hurriedly assembling either side of the gravel drive that led up to the country house. In their dress uniforms and towering bearskins the tough veterans looked as formidable as any men in Europe and Napoleon regarded them with pride as he joined the officers gathering in front of the entrance to receive the Austrians.
Just as the last men hurried into position there was a distant clatter of hooves and then Napoleon saw the first of the enemy’s officers swing into the drive. They trotted forward between the still lines of the grenadiers. Then an order was barked out and the French soldiers presented arms in one fluid movement that momentarily startled the Austrians. They continued forward, reining in a short distance from Napoleon and his staff. Their leader, wearing a glittering uniform bedecked with ribbons and medals, dismounted and approached. He was a thin man with a gaunt expression, made worse still by exhaustion. He paused as he scanned the French officers, until his gaze rested on Napoleon.With a weary sigh he drew his sword with a metallic rasp and held the hilt out horizontally as he advanced the final few steps with bowed head.
‘Emperor Napoleon, I have come to surrender my army to you.’
‘And you are?’ Napoleon asked casually, with an amused glint in his eyes.
The Austrian glanced up. ‘Sire, I am the unhappy General Mack.’
Napoleon accepted the sword, and handed it to Berthier. ‘I accept your surrender. Please permit me to entertain you and your officers here, while arrangements are made to take your army prisoner. How many men do you have, General?’
General Mack swallowed bitterly before he replied. ‘Over twenty-seven thousand souls.’
There was an excited muttering amongst Napoleon’s officers before he turned and shot them a withering glare and they fell silent at once.
‘Marshal Lannes, see to our guests.’
Lannes grinned. ‘It will be a pleasure, sire.’
Mack gave the order for his companions to dismount and as their horses were led away by French grooms the Austrian officers filed miserably through the entrance of the country house. Napoleon watched them for a moment, then turned to Berthier with a satisfied expression.
‘The first half of the campaign is over. Now comes the time to turn our might against the remnants of the Austrians, and their Russian friends.’
Chapter 10
Arthur
London, November 1805
In the weeks that followed his return to Britain Arthur gradually renewed his former friendships and other contacts in the capital.Yet at the back of his mind there was always the thought of Kitty, still living in Dublin, as far as he knew. Much as he longed to see her again, he put off writing to her over and over, telling himself that he was too busy for such matters at present. Amid the whirl and glitter of the capital’s social circles Arthur was flattered by the attention of women of quality, although he also spent many evenings in the clubs and drinking dens where he enjoyed the company of courtesans.Yet none of them excited his ardour as much as the mere thought of Kitty. Accordingly, he tried to occupy his mind with other matters.
It was vital that he fully understood the social and political terrain across which the Wellesleys would fight to secure their place at the centre of Britain’s affairs. His older brother, William, was a member of the House of Commons and proved a useful guide to the complex relations between the various factions. In the eleven years since they had last seen each other William had aged poorly. He was growing stout, and his hair was streaked with grey. More disheartening still was the degree to which William had become so acclimatised to politics that he had come to see it as the means to all ends, and he vigorously encouraged his younger brother to align himself with the rising faction of Lord Buckingham.
One morning, the two brothers were sitting in the parlour of their mother’s house as the first wet, windy days of winter closed in over London. Icy rain pattered against the windows and ran down the glass in dull streaks that blurred the details of the street outside. A servant had made up a fire, but even though the coals glowed brightly in the grate Arthur shivered and pulled his plain coat more tightly about his shoulders.
‘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? No
thing 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.
As he stepped down Arthur heard the unmistakable sounds of a large party: a loud hubbub pierced by the higher voices of women. He turned to the footman.
‘Lord Buckingham is entertaining, it would seem.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Arthur frowned. He had brought with him a minimum of formal wear in addition to his hunting attire.There had been no hint of a party in Buckingham’s invitation. ‘I am Sir Arthur Wellesley. I believe Lord Buckingham is expecting me.’
‘Indeed, sir.Your rooms are prepared. May I take your bags and show you the way, sir?’
Arthur nodded, and a moment later followed the footman up the steps into the warm glow of a well-lit entrance hall. Lord Buckingham’s wealth was conspicuously evident in every detail. Large paintings of family members adorned the walls, and gold leaf picked out the details of ornate mouldings in the ceiling high overhead. Opposite the entrance a marble staircase climbed up to a gallery that ran round the hall. On either side classical statuary filled niches painted a pale blue to enhance the lines of their contents. The footman led the way up the stairs and down a corridor into one of the wings, where he paused to open a door for Arthur before following him in with the bags. It was a comfortable chamber with a small dressing room and Arthur gestured to the chest at the end of the bed.
‘Place the bags there, please. I’ll need to change into something suitable before joining the party. How many guests is his lordship entertaining tonight?’
The footman paused to think before he replied. ‘All told, more than a hundred, sir.’
‘Any notables?’
‘Indeed yes, sir. We have the Prime Minister himself here.’
‘Pitt?’ Arthur could not contain a look of surprise.‘Who else, besides the Prime Minister?’
‘Lord Monterey, Lord Paget, Earl Portman, Sir Edward Walsey, to name just a few of them, sir. Quite a gathering.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Arthur said thoughtfully. ‘Thank you.You may go.’
The footman bowed his head. ‘I’ll tell his lordship that you have arrived, then?’
‘Yes, of course.’
As soon as the door had closed behind the man Arthur sat down on the bed with a sigh of frustration. He had assumed that he had been invited for a discreet meeting with Lord Buckingham, a mutual sounding out of opinions and positions. So it was with a heavy heart that he dressed in his best clothes: a plain dark coat, white breeches, silk stockings and buckled shoes. He knew full well that his attire would be rather drab in the whirl of fine lace and satin that would be adorning the great ballroom of his host. He left his room and made his way back downstairs, pausing to take a deep breath before he joined the party.Two footmen stood at the open doors and beyond them Arthur could see the guests, standing in clusters round the edge of the room talking and taking refreshment as a dozen members of a string orchestra took their places at the far end of the salon. Arthur knew Lord Buckingham by sight from his visits to Parliament and made his way across to his host, who was talking animatedly to a slight figure with grey hair standing with his back to Arthur.
‘My Lord Buckingham.’ Arthur bowed as he approached the two men.
Buckingham
, a few years older than Arthur and rather more stout, turned his fleshy face towards the new arrival and raised an eyebrow.
‘I’m sorry, sir, you have me at a disadvantage.’
Arthur mentally cringed with embarrassment as he realised that Buckingham had not recognised him. But before he could suffer the humiliation of announcing his name the other man turned round and Arthur saw the familiar features of William Pitt.This was the first time he had been so close to the Prime Minister, and the exhaustion and ill health that was etched into his face shocked Arthur. Fortunately Pitt smiled and grasped Arthur’s hand.
‘Why, it is Sir Arthur Wellesley, the conqueror of the Mahrattas.’
‘You know me, sir?’
Pitt laughed. ‘You have been pointed out to me, Sir Arthur. Besides, I have followed your career, alongside that of your illustrious oldest brother, with great interest over the years. Now I understand that you are seeking a seat.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Arthur admitted. ‘Although I have not had much luck in that respect so far.’
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