Fire and Sword

by Simon Scarrow

  At first light the French outposts had reported no sign of the Russians and now cavalry patrols reported that the enemy army had pulled back during the night and was retreating to the east.As Napoleon inspected the battlefield in the company of his marshals he could see that his men had reached the end of their endurance. As he approached, they rose sullenly to their feet, and when their officers called on them to cheer their Emperor there were few cries of‘Long live the Emperor!’ and many more calls of ‘Long live peace!’ instead.

  Napoleon’s expression was fixed in a cold fury as he passed on and his staff eyed him anxiously as they approached the small hillock where the square of French infantrymen had perished the day before. As they stood on its crest, surrounded by thousands of stiffening bodies, Ney shook his head. ‘What a massacre. And without result.’

  Napoleon rounded on him. ‘Enough! We have won a victory here. The enemy are in full retreat and left us in possession of the battlefield.’

  ‘Battlefield?’ Ney spoke wearily. ‘This is no battlefield, sire. It is the graveyard of the Grand Army.’

  ‘Silence, Ney! It is a victory, I tell you. Berthier, you will draft a despatch to send to Paris.You will tell them that I won a great victory at Eylau, after a gallant fight by our men.You will say that we suffered seven thousand casualties, and inflicted at least twice that on the enemy. The despatch is to be copied and distributed across Europe.’

  ‘And published in the army newspapers, sire?’ asked Berthier.

  Napoleon was silent for a moment and then shook his head.‘Not for the present.The men are too tired to read even good news.’

  He stared round at his officers, challenging anyone to defy him. No one dared speak. Napoleon clasped his hands behind his back and abruptly turned and began to pick his way through the bodies as he made his way back towards Eylau. After a moment’s hesitation his officers filed after him, in silence.

  Despite what he had said Napoleon was under no illusion about the damage done to his men. The Grand Army could not continue the campaign. Cold, weary, hungry and badly shaken, they were in no condition to fight. There was nothing for it but to pull back, return to winter quarters and wait for spring to arrive.

  Then the Russians must be beaten decisively and forced to make peace. Before the rest of Europe saw through the pretence that Eylau was any kind of victory and closed on Napoleon like wolves circling wounded prey.

  Chapter 26

  Arthur

  London, February 1807

  The cries from upstairs reached a new pitch and Arthur dropped the cards on the table and rose up from his chair to make for the door.

  ‘Easy there, Arthur,’ Richard said calmly from the other side of the table as he looked through his hand and made a quick calculation of the odds. ‘I’ll have another card, if you please.’

  Arthur stared at him.‘Damn you and your cards! My wife is in pain. She needs me.’

  ‘She is in labour,Arthur,’ Richard replied with the casual indifference of a man.‘It is a natural part of the process of giving birth.The pain will pass and you will have a child. Kitty is in good hands. There is nothing you can do to help, so come and sit, and continue the game.’

  A fresh cry of agony came from the room above and Arthur hesitated for an instant before he made himself resume his seat and pick up the deck of cards. However, his eyes fixed on the ceiling and his brother had to cough lightly to get his attention.

  ‘Another card, if you please.’

  ‘What? Oh, yes.’ Arthur glanced down and flipped the top card over on to the table in front of Richard. A nine of diamonds.

  ‘Damn.’ Richard frowned.

  Arthur absent-mindedly gathered in the cards and added his brother’s stake to the small pile of coins in front of him. As he dealt the next hand he spoke with forced calm.

  ‘Is it always like this?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘All this pain? The suffering of the wife and the anxiety of the husband?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Richard smiled. ‘It was the same every time with Hyacinthe.A lot of noise, shouting, insults and so on. I soon learned that it was best to keep out of it and let the womenfolk tend to her.’

  ‘I think it would be best if I went and comforted her. Kitty needs me.’

  ‘No she doesn’t,’ Richard replied firmly. ‘Trust me. Now deal me another card.’

  Arthur obliged and his brother examined his hand and laid it down. ‘I think I’ll stick with that.’

  Arthur flipped his over. An ace and a king. Richard frowned as his stake was swept away once more.

  ‘I came here to offer you comfort and support and you insist on fleecing me. I’ve had enough of cards. Besides, your mind is not on the game.’

  ‘How could it be?’ Arthur replied with a nod to the ceiling as Kitty cried out again. ‘My mind is on my wife and her suffering.’

  ‘Then we must find other means of diverting your attention.’ Richard poured himself another glass of port from the decanter and topped up Arthur’s glass. ‘Drink. It will help. Now then, I’ve been meaning to ask you, how long do you think the present government will last? It seems that the so called ministry of all the talents is missing the most vital talent of all in the field of politics, namely that of self-preservation. ’

  Arthur could not help smiling as he nodded his agreement.‘They do seem intent on failure.’

  ‘As well as undermining me as much as they can.’

  ‘That is just the Whigs, Richard. Most of the Tories are ambivalent about the charges against you, if not actually supportive of your position.’

  ‘That is small comfort.And I do question why my own brother lends his support to such a coalition of my enemies.’

  Arthur sighed wearily. ‘Our country is at war, Richard. We cannot afford any unnecessary dissention in Parliament. So I must support the government, even if some of its members are hell-bent on ruining your reputation.’

  ‘War?’ Richard mused. ‘A strange kind of war it seems to me. After Trafalgar and Austerlitz Britain rules the seas while France rules the land, and we are condemned to regard each other warily, but unable to fight.’

  ‘That will change one day. And Britain has the advantage of being able to take the war to the enemy. Bonaparte does not have that choice. As for your situation, I wish it were otherwise. However, I doubt the present government will last much longer. And if Grenville and his coalition government fall, I pray to God that the next ministry is more determined to continue the fight against France.’

  ‘I pray so.’ Richard paused at a fresh cry from upstairs. When it had passed he continued,‘Grenville is doomed if he persists in attempting to mollify the Irish and the Catholics.’

  Arthur nodded. As ever, the opponents of British rule in Ireland had drawn great comfort from Napoleon’s triumphs and once news of Jena reached the ears of the Irish revolutionaries there had been uprising in the countryside. Several land agents had been murdered and some estates burned to the ground. As usual, the officials in Dublin had called out the army and the militia and suppressed the rebels mercilessly, hanging any ringleaders they captured and scattering the bands of rebels with a volley or two of musket fire.The spirit of rebellion still festered in Irish hearts and in an attempt to assuage such passions the government had proposed to ease some of the restrictions placed on Catholics.

  ‘What else can the government do?’ Arthur shrugged. ‘Any prospect of peace with France died with Charles Fox. Britain is renewing the struggle and needs order. If that means satisfying the demands of the Catholics, so be it.’

  ‘Whatever the feelings of people here in England? Surely you remember what happened when that man Gordon stirred up the rabble the last time there was an attempt at Catholic relief ?’

  ‘How could I forget?’ Arthur vividly recalled the days of rioting, the burning down of public buildings and the bloody manner in which the army had restored order to the streets of London. ‘But we were not at war then. People are more mindfu
l of the need to do what is necessary to beat Bonaparte.’

  ‘You think so?’ Richard looked surprised. ‘Arthur, you are a fine soldier, but a poor politician. Forgive me for saying so, but the national interest is not at the top of most politicians’ list of priorities. If political capital can be made out of resisting Catholic relief, then it will be so.As surely as night follows day.Why, I have even heard that the King himself intends to intervene to prevent the passage of any such bill through Parliament.’

  ‘That would be an act of madness. He would not presume. Surely?’

  ‘Would he not?’ Richard smiled. ‘And as for madness, let us say that his majesty has hardly availed himself of a full measure of sanity since he came to the throne.’

  Like many Englishmen Arthur did not wish to be reminded of King George’s mental infirmity in an age when the very principle of monarchy was under widespread attack. He cleared his throat nervously. ‘I am certain that the King would not challenge the authority of Parliament over such an issue. Especially when Britain is at war and a man’s service to his country is more important than the question of his faith.’

  Richard was about to reply when Arthur raised his hand to still his brother’s tongue. He felt a sudden icy grip of terror fix on the back of his neck.

  ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Richard asked.

  ‘It’s gone quiet.’Arthur glanced at the ceiling and muttered,‘By God, if anything’s happened to Kitty . . .’

  The two brothers sat in silence for a moment, and Arthur felt his chest tighten anxiously at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A moment later the door to the drawing room opened and Dr Hoxter entered. His shirtsleeves were rolled up as he wiped his hands clean on a bloodied piece of cloth. Arthur instantly feared the worst and swallowed nervously.

  ‘Kitty . . . is she all right, doctor?’

  ‘She is fine, sir.’ Dr Hoxter nodded and then smiled warmly. ‘And so is your son.’>

  ‘My son?’ Arthur felt the tension drain from his body, to be replaced by the warmth of love and unbridled joy. ‘I have a son.’

  ‘Indeed, sir. A fine-looking young fellow if ever I saw one.’

  Richard stood up, reached across the table and grasped Arthur’s hand. ‘Then I’ll be the very first to offer my congratulations!’

  Arthur turned to his brother, still dazed by the realisation that he was a father. ‘Thank you. Thank you, Richard.’

  Dr Hoxter tucked the cloth into his waistcoat pocket and strode across the drawing room to shake Arthur’s hand in turn. ‘And here’s my congratulations to you too, sir.’

  Arthur was no longer able to contain his delight and smiled broadly at the doctor and his brother. ‘Bless my soul. I’m a father!’

  Richard laughed.‘Welcome to the club. Once the first flush of pride and novelty has worn off you’ll soon discover what a mixed blessing paternity can be.Take it from one who knows.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ said the doctor.

  ‘May I see the boy? And my wife, of course.’

  ‘I rather think Lady Wellesley would be rather aggrieved if you didn’t.’ Dr Hoxter grinned. ‘Come along, sir.’

  As the doctor turned towards the door Arthur looked to his brother with an awkward expression. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘No.’ Richard grinned. ‘I have had more than my share of such events.You go ahead. I’ll leave now.’

  Arthur nodded his thanks. ‘I’m sure we will speak soon.’

  ‘You can count on it. New fathers are inclined to be boorishly persistent in telling all and sundry about their status. I was no exception to that rule.’

  Arthur said a quick farewell and followed the doctor upstairs to the master bedroom. As they entered he saw Kitty in their bed, propped up against several cushions as she rested from her exertions. Her hair was plastered to her scalp by perspiration and her skin was pallid and waxy in appearance. She smiled weakly at her husband.

  ‘Arthur. Dear Arthur. Come to me.’ She raised a hand and he saw it tremble with the effort as he strode across the room and sat down beside her, taking her fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze.

  ‘I hear that we have a son.’

  Kitty smiled. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘The midwife is just cleaning him up,’ Dr Hoxter explained.

  Arthur nodded and turned back to Kitty.‘And you, my dear, how do you feel?’

  ‘Tired.’ She smiled bleakly. ‘Very tired.’

  Arthur leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Kitty, you have made me so proud. I have never felt so happy.’

  ‘I am glad,Arthur dear.’ She stared into his eyes and he felt her fingers tighten around his. ‘I so want to make you happy, my love.’

  ‘And you have.’ Arthur smiled back and felt a stab of guilt in his heart as he recalled the bitter disappointment of their wedding and the days, weeks and months that followed it. He took a deep breath and continued, ‘I could not have asked for a better wife.And mother to my child.’

  The door to the adjoining bathroom clicked open and Dr Hoxter clapped his hands together. ‘Ah! Here’s the little fellow. Come to say hello to his father.’

  Arthur turned and saw the midwife approaching the bed with a bundle in her arms. She laid the swaddled infant gently down beside Kitty and Arthur leaned forward for a better look at his son. The face was tiny, wrinkled and pink and the lips moved slightly. The eyes were shut and the hands were raised on either side of the head, each one half clenched and no bigger than a penny.

  Arthur felt his heart swell with such emotion as he had never felt before. He had a strange impulse to cry and only just stifled it as he swallowed and spoke with a tremor. ‘May I hold him?’

  The midwife looked across the bed. ‘Why, of course you can, Sir Arthur.The moment he has fed.’

  ‘Fed? But he’s only just been born. By God, is the boy determined to eat me out of house and home the instant he is brought into the world?’

  The midwife leaned towards Kitty. ‘If you’d pick the child up, my lady, and offer him your breast.’

  ‘Breast?’ Kitty looked round, startled. ‘Offer him my breast?’

  ‘Why yes, my lady. Of course. How else is the young ’un to feed?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I see.’ Kitty looked up at Arthur and the doctor apprehensively. ‘Would you mind leaving the room? I would feel more comfortable.’

  ‘Yes,’Arthur replied awkwardly.‘Certainly, my dear.’ He turned to the doctor. ‘I imagine you could use refreshment, sir.’

  ‘Indeed I could!’ Dr Hoxter paced towards the door, then stopped abruptly and turned towards Arthur and Kitty. ‘Have you decided on names for the lad yet?’

  Arthur nodded. ‘He is to be called Arthur Richard.’

  ‘Capital!’ Dr Hoxter rubbed his hands together. ‘Then let us go and toast the health and long life of Master Arthur Richard Wellesley.’

  The child thrived well enough, in spite of Kitty’s misgivings that she would not be able to feed him adequately.The pregnancy had not been comfortable on her thin frame and the birth itself had taken the best part of a day before the baby was delivered. She remained in bed for several days to recover from the ordeal. Arthur would have spent more time with his wife and son but for the increasingly serious situation in Parliament.The government was besieged by opposition to some of its more progressive measures. In addition to the Catholic relief bill there was the vexed question of the abolition of the slave trade. The debates raged on through the remainder of February and into March. It was on the seventeenth day of that month, emerging from the chamber as dusk fell across London, that Arthur caught the first scent of a new crisis. Members and clerks were clustered about the hall talking in excited tones. Arthur crossed to the nearest group and nudged the elbow of a Tory member he recognised.

  ‘Hello, Sidcup. What’s the news?’

  Sidcup glanced round. ‘Have you not heard? The King demanded a meeting with the Prime Minister this morning.’

  �
��What for?’

  ‘To discuss the Catholic relief bill, what else?You know as well as any how bitterly he opposes it.’ Sidcup raised his eyebrows. ‘Now it seems that his majesty has told Lord Grenville that he will not give his assent to the bill, if it is passed. Not only that, but he has demanded that the Cabinet swear an oath never to bring such a bill before Parliament again.’>