Company Of Spears

‘I have served in Ireland.’

‘Then I shall say no more, except that there are Irish navvies enough hereabouts to raise an army corps.’

Hervey said nothing for the moment. He told himself that he ought not to be surprised by this intelligence: the Whiteboy outrages, though long finished by the time he had gone to Ireland, had been savage. But all had been quiet these late years – especially since Peel had set up the Irish constabulary, the ‘Peace Preservation Force’. There again, Catholic emancipation was a running sore: it had all but broken Pitt a quarter-century gone, and by all that he read and heard it would soon be doing the same to lesser men. ‘One more thing, Mr Nasmyth: your … interest in this?’

Nasmyth did not reply.

Major Dalrymple spoke instead. ‘Hervey, I hardly think it apt—’

But Nasmyth had second thoughts. ‘No, Dalrymple, I can admit to that. I answer directly to Mr Peel, Major Hervey. That is all you need to know.’

Indeed it probably was all he needed to know. Robert Peel, Home Secretary, one- time Chief Secretary for Ireland, and as strong an opponent of emancipation as any man in the Cabinet – his intelligence would be assiduous. ‘I’m obliged, sir.’ He turned again to Major Dalrymple. ‘You have details of the rendezvous?’

Dalrymple nodded. ‘The mills are some twenty-five miles distant. Mr Nasmyth and I shall accompany the troop, and one of the Bow-street horse-patrolmen will take us by the most expeditious route. We are to make contact with Colonel Denroche by last light.’

Hervey considered the details. Twenty-five miles, by the regiment’s standing orders for marching, would take them four and a half hours. His instructions from district headquarters specified a troop, but that would suppose a mounted strength of at least eighty, whereas at present no troop could mount more than fifty. He would have two troops do duty – a squadron; and his squadron, with him at its head (this was not an occasion for any mishap). He was glad, at least, that there would be a ‘redbreast’ as guide, for it was a road he did not know. Nevertheless he must allow a little extra time for the unforeseen.

The door opened, and Private Johnson edged in carefully with a silver service and the best of the china taken from Joseph Bonaparte’s carriage after Vitoria.

‘Coffee, gentlemen,’ said Hervey, with a suppressed smile. He looked at his groom, solemnly. ‘Johnson, you shall have to postpone your business in town. We march at one o’clock.’

When his visitors had retired to the officers’ house, Hervey called for the regimental serjeant-major and told him of the night’s assignment.

‘Third Squadron shall do duty, Mr Hairsine, under my orders, but I should like you to accompany; I believe it may be a tricky affair.’

‘Very good, sir.’ Mr Hairsine was pleased. It saved him the trouble of insisting he should go, for although the squadron was Troop Serjeant-major Armstrong’s business, Hervey was commanding officer as well as squadron leader, and the RSM’s place was therefore with him.

‘And this summons for Johnson to attend at Bow-street: I would that you send word to say that he’s required for duty and cannot attend. I’d like him with me tonight. Are you any the wiser as to his offence?’

The RSM shook his head. ‘Sir. The summons came last night, and said nothing other than that he was to present himself at Bow-street today. He won’t say a word, sir, and neither would the Bow-street men when they came. They insisted on seeing him by themselves – a good two hours, they were. I confess I’m mystified. Generally you can have it out of the one or other.’

‘By which we can assume this is no little affair.’ ‘Those was my thoughts, sir. But Johnson? Difficult to believe.’

‘One of the Bow-street men hinted at worse to come,’ said the adjutant, raising an eyebrow. ‘He more or less accused us of having an outpost of the Seven Dials rookery here.’

‘Did he, indeed?’ Hervey could not credit it: the regiment had scarcely been returned from India six months. ‘I don’t want Johnson locked up for even a night.’

The RSM’s brow furrowed deep. ‘Sir, I can’t see as how we can throw them off their line for ever.’

‘They want names from him,’ explained Vanneck.

Hervey now realized that the usual practice of not cooperating with the civil authorities when it looked as if the regimental strength might be diminished was not going to work in Johnson’s case. He sat down, heavily. He could have no thoughts of Gloucestershire with his groom detained at Bow Street – nor, indeed, with the notion of a thieves’ kitchen somewhere in his own barracks. ‘Do we know what is the evidence against him? How was he collared?’

‘I’m afraid we don’t,’ replied Vanneck. ‘The Bow-street men would give away nothing.’

The RSM shook his head too.

‘What do you make of the idea of the fencing?’

The RSM shook his head again. ‘Sir, at any one time there’s half a dozen little schemes going on.’

‘True,’ said Hervey. And providing they did not come very publicly to light or touch on the welfare or the pockets of other dragoons, no great efforts were made to extirpate them (the King’s pay was mean enough). ‘But I want to know what it is that Johnson’s involved in. I can’t believe his guilt in anything is bad enough to rouse the City magistrates.’

Vanneck raised his eyebrows, unseen.

The RSM frowned. ‘He was the biggest progger in his squadron, sir!’

Hervey sighed. ‘That I grant you, but only by the exigencies of field service. I don’t recall we ever counted vigorous foraging to be theft.’

The RSM nodded. ‘No, indeed not, sir. I meant merely that he is not without expertise when … exigencies are exigencies.’

‘You will put the word out, then?’

‘Ay, sir. There’ll be canaries enough once they knows the real clink’s beckoning.’

Hervey nodded appreciatively. ‘I would sooner believe that …’ Well, better not to say whom he thought more capable of miscreancy. ‘I can’t but think Johnson’s unwitting of something. I confess it would go hard with me to learn otherwise. I’d go myself to Bow-street had not tonight’s business come on.’ He sighed, and made to change the subject. ‘Have you seen Mr Kirwan?’

‘Not since stables last night, sir.’

Hervey turned to the adjutant.

‘I’ve not yet had the morning states.’

‘Would you have him come at once. I believe we must destroy any horse showing the symptoms of the farcy … or of glanders.’

The RSM sounded a note of caution. ‘Serjeant-majors report all’s well, sir, barring those three in the infirmary.’

‘I’m very glad to hear it, Mr Hairsine,’ said Hervey, sitting down. ‘But those three have something, and I’m damned if I’ll have a yellow flag flying at the gates!’

The RSM put his hands to his side. ‘With your leave, sir?’

Hervey nodded. ‘Yes, Sarn’t-major, thank you,’ he said, then motioned the adjutant to stay.

‘You will want me to accompany you this evening too, of course,’ said Vanneck.

Hervey shook his head. ‘No, I have something else I would have you do, which I confess is more in the way of personal duty for me than regimental.’

The Honourable Myles Vanneck, sometime lieutenant in Hervey’s troop, but adjutant of three years now, had seen enough action in India not to crave a scrap with a rabble of Irish navvies. ‘Very well, sir.’

Hervey’s sabretache lay on his desk. He opened it and took out two letters. ‘Would you deliver this personally into the hands of Colonel Howard at the Horse Guards. And this … would you have it sent at once to Lady Katherine Greville?’

The adjutant took the letters. He had not himself been to the Horse Guards before, but he needed no instructions in that direction. As for the letter for Lady Katherine Greville … the orderlies were practised enough to