left Paris with his meagre household in a small convoy of carriages. Four days later he boarded a ship at Calais and set sail for England. In Parliament the Tories, urged on by the revitalised fanaticism of William Pitt, proposed a motion to declare war on France.
One morning, late in May, Napoleon was at breakfast with Josephine when a footman entered the room and approached the table carrying a sealed message. Napoleon broke the wafer, unfolded the single sheet and read the hurriedly scribbled message. He set it down with a frown and stared fixedly at the window for a moment before Josephine gave a light cough.
‘What is it, my dear? That letter.’
‘Hmmm?’ Napoleon turned to her, as if he was unsure of her words for a moment. Then he glanced at the paper. ‘Oh . . . It’s from Talleyrand. He received an official dispatch from London this afternoon. The English declared war on France on the sixteenth.’
‘War?’ There was a protracted pause before Josephine continued, ‘How long do you think it will last, this time?’
Napoleon considered the question briefly. ‘I’ve no idea. All I do know is that this time there can be no peace until England, or France, is utterly crushed. We have exhausted any other possibilities.As the saying goes, it will be a fight to the bitter end.’ He stared at the letter. It seemed an age since the last time he had gone to war.Then it had seemed glorious and he had revelled in it. But now? Napoleon felt the weary weight of his heart as he contemplated the coming conflict. There would never be a war like it. Two great powers, one dominating the land, the other master of the oceans, locked in a struggle that would embrace Europe and spread its dark wings to the far corners of the world. It would be a war on a scale that no one had ever seen before.
Chapter 66
Arthur laid down his razor and began to rinse the remains of the soap from his face.When he had patted away the last drops he laid down his towel and stared into the mirror. At thirty-four years of age his body still had the trim athleticism of a man ten years younger. That was down to the hard exercise that he took every day, the same regimen he insisted on for his men. Even so it had taken many months to recover from his illness, and there was grey hair at his temples. He shook his head sadly at the toll India had taken on his body.To be fair, these lands had given him the chance to develop his ideas about the best methods for waging war. If he had remained in Europe, then he would never have had independent commands on the scale of the forces he had wielded in India.
His promotion to Major General had come through the previous year and now he was leading an army of nearly twenty-five thousand regular troops and sepoys. Some months earlier, as the British had anticipated, war had broken out between the Mahratta states and the Peshwa, Bajee Rao, had come to the Governor General begging aid to help restore him to power in Poona. Richard had made good use of the opportunity to draw up an advantageous treaty before authorising Arthur to take command of the army that would place Bajee Rao back on his throne. The Governor General had learned from his embarrassment over the affair with General Baird and had first offered the command to General Stuart. But Stuart had gracefully declined and stated that Arthur should be in command since he had equipped, organised and trained the finest army ever assembled in India. Those were the very words, Arthur recalled. His professionalism and ability had been recognised and there was no longer any grudging resentment, nor the muttered accusation of nepotism, to besmirch his reputation.
So he had led his army north from Mysore and entered Poona early in May, and returned Bajee Rao to his palace. Far from being a useful ally, Bajee Rao was detested by his people and his kingdom was destitute and disintegrating. Despite being restored to his throne by the English, the Peshwa had at once begun to plot with Scindia to oust his rescuers. Such was the man’s ineptitude in the arts of deceit that Arthur had come to hear of the plot almost at once and had remained in Poona to discourage Bajee Rao from any attempt to renege on his treaty with the Governor General. At the same time, attempts to negotiate treaties with Scindia and Holkar were proving difficult. Reports from Arthur’s network of agents had revealed that Scindia was trying to forge alliances with other Mahratta chiefs to wage war on the British. Meanwhile Holkar had declared war on the Nizam and had invaded the lands of Hyderabad, claiming that the Nizam owed him money. As a result Arthur had been obliged to divide his command and send Colonel Stevenson to protect Hyderabad with ten thousand soldiers.
Arthur had other problems. The men and horses he had brought with him from southern India were used to a diet of rice, yet the Mahrattas fed their beasts on
Arthur took a last glance at his image in the mirror. How much longer would his constitution hold out, he wondered? He had endured the strain of several years of campaigning in this unforgiving climate, and the odds against his returning home to England in good health were lengthening all the time. Besides, there was always the memory of Kitty at the back of his mind, and he yearned to return to her. The last letter he had received from her was some months ago. She said her heart was still his, and that she had successfully fended off the suitors her older brother had attempted to foist on her.That was small comfort to Arthur while he was on the far side of the world. He was familiar enough with Dublin society to know that the Viceroy would have a plentiful stock of dashing young staff officers to catch the eyes of the local dignitaries’ daughters, and that included Kitty.
‘Damn,’ he muttered in frustration and reached for his shirt, thrusting his head through the collar and hurriedly fastening the buttons. His servant had laid out the rest of his uniform on a chest beside the basin, and with a last moment to savour the cool loose fit of the shirt Arthur wearily began to dress. He made his way to the veranda of the residency where Barry Close had just sat down for breakfast. Even though Close had only recently been transferred from Mysore, he had made useful connections with the most powerful men in Poona.
‘Good morning, sir.’ Close nodded. ‘Dare say you had a better night’s sleep than you’ve had in a while, eh?’
‘More comfortable, at least.’ Arthur beckoned to one of Close’s stewards. ‘Lamb chops, if you please.’
The steward bowed. ‘
Once the man was out of earshot Arthur lowered his voice. ‘Any further developments with the Peshwa?’
‘Only that he is as treacherous as ever. My informants at the palace say there is a regular exchange of messages with Scindia and Holkar. I had a word with him last night about it. I mentioned that it was somewhat unseemly for a man beholden to our side to be in communication with his former enemies.’
‘He didn’t deny it then?’
‘Of course he did, sir. But you know Bajee Rao - the man is a compulsively bad liar. He insists that any communication he has with the other side simply demands that they bow to his authority once more. He swore, by all his gods, that he remains a steadfast and loyal ally of Britain.’
‘It’s conceivable he might be telling the truth,’ Arthur mused wistfully.
‘Only to the same extent that porcine aviation is conceivable,’ replied Close.‘The Peshwa is a black-hearted knave, motivated at any moment by what he fears most.’
‘Well, yes. Quite.’ Arthur stared across the compound towards the main gate of Poona and the distant domes of the Peshwa’s palace, gleaming in the rays of the early morning sun. ‘Well, we must do what we can to discourage him from playing both sides. I think it’s time that you let him know that if there should be any more of
