On His Majesty's Service

promotion would be all behind me if I was to go back to ’Ounslow deficient a colonel.’

An hour later General Diebitsch returned, and soon after, gallopers from Pravadi. Hervey made at once for the headquarters. An aide-de-camp told him the news: the siege had been lifted at three o’clock, and the Vizier’s army was in retreat. Hervey was gratified to hear the confirmation of his own assessment.

But by which route would the Turks march? Whatever the answer, there was scarce a moon to speak of, and so it could not be at speed if they marched through the night. ‘Forbear waste of time’ had been Cromwell’s maxim, and Hervey had always found it apt; but in this instance, time was on Diebitsch’s side. It would be no waste of it to rest his army here at Yeni Bazar and then move at first light when the Vizier’s intentions were clearer.

He slipped into the general’s office as the intentions were being discussed, but he could only stand uncomprehending. At length the confab ceased and Diebitsch appeared to issue a series of orders. Toll added words of his own and then the assembly broke up, with staff officers striding out purposefully.

Seeing Hervey, Diebitsch beckoned him. ‘Your ride proved opportune.’

‘It did, General. May I ask what are your orders?’

‘You may. The army is ready to move as we speak, which is in no small part thanks to your address. Roth has had trouble extricating himself, getting his guns and waggons down the hillsides, and will not join before morning, so we shall sleep here and march in the morning to intercept the Vizier – as soon as I know by which route he comes. Or, of course, in the event he reveals himself this night, we shall march at once.’

Hervey felt keenly the satisfaction of one whose address had bought advantage, which was ever the wish of the cavalryman. ‘Then I will take your leave, General.’

Diebitsch took off his sword belt and sat on the edge of the desk. ‘One more thing, Colonel Hervey. You saw something of the country; which route would you choose?’

‘As a Turk, General?’

‘As you will.’

Hervey had, in fact, seen only something of the northern route, and a very little of the middle, but he knew the Cossacks had ranged throughout of late and reported that the roads on the southern route through the numerous tributary valleys of the Kamtchik were so bad that it would be nigh impossible to take artillery that way. The northern route might oblige the Vizier to battle in the open – close to Yeni Bazar – with Roth’s corps, for he must assume Roth was withdrawing by this route (once he had discovered the ruse of the campfires and that Roth was withdrawing). The northern route – faster because of the open country – might well represent the best option, however, for to take the centre route would be to traverse country not greatly more favourable than that to the south, and with the risk of both his flanks being assailed.

‘I suppose he must soon learn of our presence here, and of General Pahlen at Madara?’

‘Yes, though perhaps not as quickly as he would need to. Roth’s corps will act as a screen of sorts. But the Vizier will certainly have word of Pahlen – though, we hope, thinking them but a part of Roth’s old force before Shumla. But Pahlen has learned of reinforcements at Shumla: five thousand Arnauts have lately come in. So it may be that the Vizier believes the Arnauts will clear his line of withdrawal.’

‘Ah,’ said Hervey. ‘That would indeed favour him towards the middle course. But for myself I would still regard the northern route as the most expedient. I should rather battle with an enemy in the open, especially having raw troops, as the Vizier’s are, than have trees to cower behind. But I would hazard that the man I saw today will take the middle route.’

Diebitsch nodded. ‘I cannot of course hazard all, Colonel Hervey, which is why I am determined to wait on the dawn reports.’

‘Indeed, General.’

‘But one way or another we shall bring Reschid Pasha to battle tomorrow or the next day. He shall not enter Shumla.’

Hervey believed him.

As he was leaving, an aide-de-camp called him to General Toll’s office. The chief of staff was dictating instructions for the order of march. He broke off and asked the officers to leave them for the moment.

When the door had closed, his expression turned to something approaching a smile. He had, indeed, a naturally benign face – large eyes, red cheeks – but the reverses of the previous season had weighed with him, whereas with Diebitsch they were but stimulant. ‘Colonel, I don’t believe I expressed adequately my esteem earlier. The army will be in immeasurably better condition tomorrow for your intelligence of the Vizier. It will stand down this evening in all respects ready to move. The general-in-chief knows this, too.’

Hervey bowed. ‘No further expressions are required, General, though I am honoured to receive them.’

Toll continued to study him, without a word but with approval, until at length he was ready to speak his mind. ‘Colonel, I am aware of the offer which the general-in-chief has made to you, for an active command and the prospect of a senior post. I hope you will consider very carefully the offer. It is the duty of generals-in-chief to bring on new blood, and in the service of the Tsar there are many who were not born to it. I myself was not born to it, nor indeed the general-in-chief, as you know. New blood, Colonel – not excess of it, but enough to refresh that which is shed for one reason or another.’

‘I could not but consider such an offer very carefully, General, I assure you.’

Toll nodded very deliberately. ‘I myself hope to have time to plant cabbages on my little estate on the Dvina.’

An hour before dawn they were up, shaved, and breakfasting, lit by a ‘windfall’ of candles, as Johnson put it, and watered from the copper boiler in the rear of the building, whose removal and onward portage he was in the course of planning. The otherwise unappealing black bread made very passable toast on the charcoal stove, with olive oil from the Cossacks in the same barter as a new sabre, as well as a bag of sugar and a doll in Cossack dress for Georgiana. Another flitch of bacon had ‘been found’ (Johnson was particular in using the passive voice), and, truly remarkably, more eggs, now hard-boiled, as their field rations of the day. So far they had not had to resort to the issue biscuit.

At stand-to Agar had the dragoons bring the horses to the door.

‘I’ll wager the Turks come this way,’ said Fairbrother as they swung into the saddle.

‘You’ve changed your opinion?’ replied Hervey, unsure whether in fact Fairbrother had expressed one before.

‘I was thinking as I lay last night. The Vizier was an angry general yesterday, and he’s a proud one – he took Messolonghi did he not? – and if he’s been humiliated before Pravadi a second time and learns that an army’s advanced as far as here he may well throw himself in his rage at us. He may be the Sultan’s chief minister, but he’s got Greek blood.’

Hervey rehearsed again his reasons for believing the Vizier would take the middle route, but an hour later it looked as if Fairbrother would be proved right. Just after the order to stand down, a party of Turk horse appeared at the edge of the forest, on the nearer ridge about a mile distant. Hervey saw them clearly, and so, he observed, did General Diebitsch, sitting in the saddle nearby amid a clump of cherry trees. But no alarm was sounded, the pickets remained out and the battalions went about the routine of breakfast and first parade.

‘I think we may conclude that Diebitsch is not a general to be bustled. He means to dictate the terms of this battle. The duke would heartily approve.’

Fairbrother smiled to himself. He supposed that divining what the duke would do would be the practice of the army for years.

But half an hour passed, and the Turks made no move. Perhaps they were transfixed by the smoke of the hundreds – thousands – of impromptu fires? It would mask the assembly of a fair-size army. Hervey agreed, yet was still amazed they were not on the move, for Diebitsch had seemed sure the first-light reports would reveal the Vizier’s intentions. But General Roth had not appeared, nor had there been any word – not that he had heard of. There had been distant cannon fire, muffled by the forest, but it was desultory, and there was little to glean from the pattern. He decided he should ride over to the cherry trees and enquire.

A train of mules with pannier baskets came plodding along the line, staying Hervey’s plan; he did not want to intrude on the general’s breakfast.

Instead they dismounted.

Five minutes later the aide-de-camp of the night before rode over to them with one of the mules. He had no