Fairbrother frowned. ‘We must trust not. There is no greater admirer of your talents than I, but even you might find the taking of Constantinople with but a brigade an uncertain venture.’
Hervey frowned back. ‘There was no suggestion of a forlorn hope in brigade strength, I assure you. I confess I am excessively attracted by the offer, however.’
‘Of course you are. But are you serious in thinking you could accept? Would not the language be a trial, for one thing?’
‘Have we met a Russian general yet who is Russian?’
‘We have not. And, of course, Mrs Hervey would find St Petersburg congenial to her music.’
Hervey started. Somehow they never spoke of Kezia. ‘Just so. But’ (he almost added ‘more importantly’) ‘what would be your answer? Would the clime be to your liking?’
Fairbrother laughed. ‘It might be said that I have had a surfeit of sun. I suppose they have good fires in winter? But what should be my part there? It’s one thing to make me an honorary member of your mess, but another to co-opt me into service of the Tsar.’
Hervey was silent.
Fairbrother buttoned the collar of his tunic in a way that said he was to impart something of substance. ‘Hervey, I may tell you that I am resolved to give up my interest at the Cape. Such business as is there can hardly be thought sufficient to provide worthy occupation. In the long run I shall transfer my interest to London, but in the shorter term I am at your disposal. Should you choose Gibraltar or St Petersburg I am indifferent, as indeed I am to Hounslow. You may make your decision entirely as you see it best befits your condition. I shall bear with it happily.’
Hervey rose, held out his hand, and with a catch in his voice said, ‘I am truly very fortunate in your friendship.’
XIV
THE VIZIER
Fairbrother had been disappointed to leave the luxuries of the Danube so quickly. And in truth he had been intrigued, for he had never witnessed a siege before. He thought it scientific to an impressive degree, what little he had been able to observe, and the sheer magnitude of the supply – the vast organization of stores and transport – he found fascinating. But he understood the imperative to seize the opportunity, and indeed he expressed himself in admiration of the general-in-chief’s evident determination to strike a felling blow rather than merely a series of safe ones. And so he had packed his camp comforts once again and readied himself for the saddle once more. Here at least, though, they had been extraordinarily well favoured, for Hervey had been given the pick of the remount lines for his party; and all seven of them were mounted well.
The country they were now coming to was different. The hills, a northerly spur of the Balkan which might, at a pinch, answer to ‘mountains’, were steep-sided and abundantly wooded, with deep, narrow ravines in which streams ran with sometimes uncommon force. Such country, reckoned Hervey, from his vantage of the plain, would hide an army and devour scouts; the Russians would need the most active patrols unless they were to fall foul of Turk trickery. Any encounter beyond an affair of pickets would be difficult in the extreme, the ground unsuited to manoeuvre. A few men and guns might hold up a considerable force; and a force might lose many men in the process of driving in a defended position. But it was, of course, the same country for the Turks: the forest had no partiality for one side or the other. The ‘Varian disaster’ in the Teutoburgerwald, which had held him spellbound on first reading in the remove at Shrewsbury, and which exercised still a potent influence on the minds of officers who studied their profession, was not a victory for the
They had left Silistria on the 5th and made good distance at first on the plain of the Lower Dobrudscha, but for most of the third day they had ridden in thick fog, with little idea of their progress except by a very rough dead reckoning. And tedious going it had been too; they tramped for hours on end, leading the horses amid a vast press of men and animals, for by some miscalculation the baggage of the reserve division had come onto the road in advance of the main body. And then in the middle of the afternoon the sun had managed at last to burn through and they were able to see the distant hills. But while the mist had slowed them, certainly, it had also masked their advance. There was no sign of Turk patrols. They had continued marching until after dark, reaching Yeni Bazar at about nine o’clock, when the army made camp.
Such as he could make out, it seemed a prosperous sort of place by the standards of the country. Yeni Bazar – ‘new market’ – was a town of about fifty families, Bulgar, Turk and Wallachian, most of which alike had fled on hearing of the approaching army. There was a church, which appeared whole, and a mosque, and some substantial-looking houses, many of stone, and the streets were wide – and clean (though not for long). Hervey went to find Diebitsch’s headquarters while the others sought a bivouac, and the general had just invited him into a chamber of the
With no other officers but a single aide-de-camp present, Pahlen spoke in German. ‘At four o’clock my Cossacks made contact with Turk cavalry on the road to Shumla, ten miles hence. The Cossacks drove them back a mile, but came then on formed infantry – a force in all, I estimate, of two thousand. I brought up my leading regiment and dislodged them, and as darkness approached gave orders to occupy a blocking position astride the road at Madara strong enough to stand against a counter-attack at dawn.’
Diebitsch nodded approvingly – admirable action, exemplary reporting.
Pahlen continued: ‘I at first imagined it to be a sortie in connection with our own advance, but the prisoners reveal that their orders, from the Vizier himself, were to march towards Pravadi to threaten the rear of Roth’s force.’
Diebitsch had explained to Hervey before they marched that Roth’s force of two corps, which had made camp before Shumla, would detach a small number to maintain watch on that place and then march east towards Pravadi and occupy blocking positions in the hilly, wooded defiles. This would prevent the Vizier from bolting back to Shumla from before the walls of Pravadi when he learned of Diebitsch’s approach – to fix him, as it were, so that Diebitsch could close up and then defeat him in open battle.
Hervey reckoned that on learning Pahlen’s news, therefore, Diebitsch had a right to look gratified. But the general was doubly pleased, for the report seemed also to confirm that surprise was still his. ‘Do I take it that they believed you to be a part of Roth’s force, and that they had no suspicion of our advance?’
‘That is exactly as I read it,’ replied Pahlen. ‘Indeed, I have let the most senior of the prisoners, a colonel of artillery, escape towards Shumla with the intelligence that I was commander of Roth’s own rearguard.’
‘
Consummate indeed; Hervey, too, was all admiration.
Pahlen asked what further orders there were before leave to rejoin his corps.
Diebitsch surprised them both. ‘Since our march went unmolested – indeed, unobserved – at first light this morning I sent orders to Roth to leave two regiments only in the defiles, but to make a great show that they remained there in strength, and to slip away with the rest of his corps and rally here at Yeni Bazar.’
It was Pahlen’s turn to look impressed. His general-in-chief was stealing march after march on the Vizier.
Diebitsch called for wine.
Other officers came, and soon the talk turned Russian. Hervey occupied himself with his map, until after an hour – and just when he was wondering if it were not better to withdraw for the night – a galloper arrived from Roth.
As Diebitsch’s chief of staff read the despatch aloud, the smiles and general agitation indicated that it was more good news.
One of the aides-de-camp translated. ‘General Roth intends coming away under cover of darkness. There is no sign that the Turks have detected his intentions. He expects to be able to effect a junction here towards midday, or at the latest by last light.’
