For My Country’s Freedom

Do I know him?'

Bolitho kept his face impassive. A courier to Falmouth and a letter of instructions to the tailor there, old Joshua Miller, who had worked on the new uniform without pause. The others would be ready when he hoisted his flag above Indomitable.

He replied, 'He works in Falmouth, Your Royal Highness.'

The Prince smiled. 'Then indeed I shall not know him.' His eyes moved to the diamond fan again. 'It must bore you, my lady, living in the country when Sir Richard is away, hmm?'

'I keep too busy to become bored, sir.'

He gently patted her wrist. 'One so beautiful should never be busy!'

They led the way into the adjoining room. Bolitho had heard that when it had been fully extended for a more lavish banquet recently, the table had been over two hundred feet long, with an artificial stream running from a silver fountain at its head.

They were not to be disappointed at this more humble gathering, it appeared. A veritable army of footmen and servants lined the walls, and music drifted gently through the far doors.

Bolitho took his place without enthusiasm. He had recognised the expression in the Prince Regent’s eyes, the lewd confidence of one used to getting his own way. As a footman pulled out a chair for Catherine she glanced over the table at him, her eyes very level and compelling. Remember me, they

seemed to say, reassuring him. The woman in the boat. The one who loves you and no other.

The Prince sat back in a tall chair at the head of the table. It was more like a throne, Bolitho thought, with an ornately carved back featuring the plumes of his own coat of arms and the royal crown and cipher, G.R. It seemed that he already imagined himself as King.

Catherine sat on his right hand, Bolitho on his left. As far as the Prince of Wales was concerned, his other guests could think what they chose.

He raised one hand and instantly, like a well-trained platoon of Royal Marines demonstrating a complicated drill, the footmen and servants moved into action.

As was customary, Bolitho had expected Grace to be spoken; in fact he had seen a severe-looking bishop at the opposite end of the table in the act of getting to his feet. The Prince gave no sign that he had seen him, but Bolitho guessed that, like Sillitoe, His Royal Highness missed very little. Soon the table was groaning with the weight of huge platters, some of gold, some of silver. The number of staff in the kitchens must be equally large, Bolitho thought. Spring soup, then slices of salmon and caper sauce were served with fried fillet of sole. Each dish would have satisfied even the hungriest midshipman, but when he glanced along the table Bolitho saw little hesitation as silver flashed in the candlelight, and hands moved and plunged as if his fellow guests had not eaten for days.

The Prince remarked as more glasses were filled, 'This is a lighter wine, Lady Catherine, not much to my taste. I prefer something with a little more body.'

She met his gaze and said, 'From Madeira, I believe.' She had not reacted to the emphasis he had placed on the last word; in fact, it was even rather amusing. He was no different from other

men after all. She looked across at Bolitho and raised her glass. 'To our new admiral, sir!'

A few sitting close by followed suit, but most were more concerned with emptying their plates in anticipation of the next offering.

The Prince said, 'Indeed, yes. I was impressed with your choice of words at the Admiralty, Sir Richard, although your choice of a flagship surprised me until I perceived the logic of it. The vital need for speed and gunnery to act as one… there are still many who will not believe it. Merchants and so forth, who can see only an increase in trade and thicker linings to their purses if we slacken our pressure on the enemy. This war must be pursued. I insist on it!' He gave Catherine a wry smile. 'Forgive this talk, Lady Catherine. Doubtless you have heard enough on the subject.'

'Where Sir Richard is concerned, I am always ready to learn more, sir.'

He wagged one finger at her. 'His will be an enormous responsibility'

She replied calmly, 'Cannot that be said of every captain who sails alone, and with only his own skills and courage to sustain him?'

He nodded, surprised perhaps by her directness. 'Ah yes, but an admiral’s responsibility is total!'

Bolitho leaned back as white-gloved hands darted around him and plates vanished as if by magic. It gave him time to consider the Prince’s remarks. He had heard that he was eager to increase pressure on the French, finish it once and for all. No wonder the prime minister was absent; Spencer Perceval leaned towards appeasement, if only to avoid war with the United States.

But the Regent’s powers were severely limited for another twelve months, and no drastic actions might be commenced that could have far-reaching effects to which, after this period, the King might object if recovered from his madness.

He looked up and found Catherine watching him, thinking no doubt of the dangers inherent in this new appointment. They needed an admiral who would act without hesitation, who would not drag his feet and wait for conflicting instructions from London. That was the official position. They both knew the reality. He had often told her about the loneliness of command when sailing out of company without higher authority. If you were successful, others would take the credit. If you failed, the blame was yours alone.

He raised his glass to her.

The Prince was running his eyes over the next course, a highly decorative array of roast rack of lamb, larded capon and braised turkey, ham, tongue and several kinds of vegetables. And, of course, more wine. He said, 'I should have seated you at the other end of the table, Sir Richard. You and this lady are akin to conspirators!'

But he laughed, and Bolitho noted that several guests were nodding and laughing too, although they could not possibly have heard a word. It was just as well that the soldiers and sailors in the field or on the ocean who often paid for their service with their lives could not see those who took them so much for granted. 'I am told that you will sail first to Antigua?' He gestured to a footman, who served him a second portion of capon. It gave Bolitho time to look at her, and recognise the shadow of pain at the Prince’s abrupt disclosure. I should have told her when I knew.

He answered, 'I shall assemble my squadron there, and I hope to gain some local knowledge as well.'

The Prince dabbed his chin and said casually, 'I knew your late husband, Lady Catherine. An eager man at the tables.' He gazed at her. 'Reckless, to a point of danger.'

'I know.'

'But we all have our weaknesses. Even I…' He did not elaborate, but attacked the braised turkey with renewed vigour.

Then he remarked, 'Your choice of captain, Sir Richard.' He snapped his fingers absently in the direction of a footman. 'Tyacke, isn’t it? You could have had any captain. Any man would be prepared to kill for such a chance. And yet you chose him without hesitation. Why so?'

'He is an excellent seaman and an accomplished navigator.'

'But only the commander of a lowly brig?'

The Prince stared down with astonishment as Catherine laid one hand on his sleeve.

She said quietly, 'But is it not also true that Nelson chose Hardy for his flag-captain when he in fact commanded a lowly brig?'

He roared with laughter. 'Touchй, Lady Catherine! I am impressed!'

She started with alarm as a glass fell on the table and the wine spread towards her like blood. Bolitho said, 'Forgive me, sir.' But he was speaking to Catherine, and she knew it.

The light from one of the great chandeliers had dazzled him, and he had missed the wineglass even as he reached for it. No one else seemed to have noticed.

The Prince patted her hand, beaming genially at her. 'We will take more wine while these fellows replace the cloth.' He did not remove his hand and added, 'There are so many things I wish to know.'

'About me, sir?' She shook her head and felt the diamond pendant warm against her breast.

'You are much spoken of, Lady Catherine. Admired too, I’ve no doubt!'

'I am loved by but one, sir.'

Bolitho glanced at the footman who had replaced his glass. 'Thank you.' The man almost dropped his tray, and