On His Majesty's Service

march to Constantinople. In return he promised protection of the inhabitants of the city, their property and religion. And he made this conditional – Hervey observed that here was the true genius – on receiving an answer to these terms by nine o’clock the following morning, a little over twelve hours. For the military, civil and religious leaders had plainly lost their heads; it would not do to give them time to collect their senses again. Moreover, if the city were not surrendered the following morning, he would be obliged to storm it, and he did not wish to risk discovery of his weakness by a longer delay.

And so what the Turk believed was a Russian army, but which did not muster more than would a corps on paper, passed that night under arms, wondering (with the rekrut’s simple faith in God, and his general) what the morning would bring. Their repose was not helped by the commotion within the walls, with torches and lanterns flitting this way and that all night, which gave the impression of a garrison readying for battle. An hour before daybreak, therefore, Diebitsch gave the order for what passed for – remained of – the 2nd and 4th Corps to form two columns of assault, while the equally depleted 7th Corps, with the greater part of the cavalry and horse artillery, made preparations to advance to Iskender, six miles to the south-east of the city, to cut off any retreat on Constantinople.

But Hilal Pasha did not wait on his allotted time. At seven o’clock, two hours after sunrise, when the Russians’ offensive intentions were observable from the walls – if not their paucity of numbers – two envoys approached from the threatened gates to treat for more favourable terms. Hervey heard the supplication and expected Diebitsch to concede, in the customary manner of eastern bargaining, but instead he heard only the baldest refusal and the order for the assault columns to close to the advance siege-works.

His heart sank. He had seen blood enough – Russian and Turk.

But none had reckoned on what terms the citizens of Adrianople sought: before the envoys had even regained the walls, the gates were flung open and the people spilled out in a great mass, Turk, Christian and Jew alike, to tender submission, bring peace-offerings – wine, sweetmeats, fruit and bread, so that soon the maidan looked like a vast fairground. Then the troops themselves came out and threw down their muskets, abandoning the defence-works before any formalities of a treaty were concluded.

It was over; and Hervey could only ponder on whether, had it come to a fight, ‘Valens’ would have prevailed, or the Goth. ‘A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers’; Hervey felt uncommon relief, a surge like the racing tide. He was half-done with fighting.

That night they dined in the seraglio’s marbled hall off gold and silver-gilt, with the choicest food of the palace kitchens and the finest wines of the Christian cellars, and slept on soft divans to the sound of tinkling fountains in the courtyard-garden. It was paradise but for the recollection that in due time, perhaps sooner than later, they would have to rise from their cushions, and leave the sound of stillness, for the siege of sieges.

Next morning, Agar begged leave to explore the Selimiye, the mosque which one of the sons of Suleiman the Magnificent had built. Hervey was content to grant it – he would have gone himself were there not despatches to write – but with Corporal Acton accompanying, for Johnson had already set the other dragoons to ‘making and mending’. ‘And tomorrow, if there is no movement of the army, I should like to see the ground where Valens was undone.’

Fairbrother had already declared his intention to do nothing but sit in the shade of the seraglio’s courtyard, uncomprehending of all languages spoken about him and therefore able with perfect concentration to finish reading – strange as it seemed to Hervey – Guy Mannering, which had lodged several days unopened in his small pack, with a mark at the beginning of the second part.

‘What moved you to choose it?’ asked Hervey when they were alone, more disposed to humour him of late.

‘It was in that bundle I bought as a single lot at your bookseller’s. I wanted the Hazlitt, principally, and the others looked engaging.’

‘I confess I’ve not read it.’

‘You ought to. Mannering’s a colonel.’

‘I imagine it is Scotch?’

‘There, and Holland, and India.’

Hervey was taking his ease over yet more coffee. ‘You know, I read Waverley, for he’d caught the rebellion very well, said those who knew about it, but I confess I was not greatly drawn to Scotland. I can’t think but that its wildness is mean, or melancholy – though I wouldn’t mind seeing Culloden.’

Fairbrother picked another fig from the silver dish which one of the servants of the seraglio had brought. ‘Well, I must say that I’m intrigued by the place – at least as Scott portrays it.’ He smiled. ‘They have an abundance of laws, of which they seem inordinately proud, and lawyers enough to people the whole of Edinburgh, and yet nothing is settled but by the knife. I should rather like to see it. It makes the place of my birth seem tranquil by comparison.’

‘You’ve no desire for the peace of English country after all these months?’

‘In due season.’ He looked intent, suddenly. ‘Can we not see Scotland?’

Hervey shrugged. ‘I have no especial desire, but neither have I objection,’ he replied without looking up (he had begun renumbering the separate notes he had made in the course of the campaign). ‘We would need a full month to see anything of it. The roads are abominable, by all accounts – even the ones built by the excellent General Wade.’

‘“The noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees, is the high road that leads him to England”?’

‘Dr Johnson could be cutting, but no less apt for it.’

‘But all the same … Might we not, say, visit Drumossie Moor and advance our understanding of the military art?’

Hervey looked up at last to gauge how serious was his friend. ‘You would truly wish to see Scotland? The weather’s savage; you know full well you shiver as soon as the sun goes in.’

‘Then we could visit in the height of summer – the Highlands; when it is by all accounts very agreeable.’

‘That I must concede, for I have heard it said that so many millions of mosquitoes cannot all be wrong.’

Fairbrother laughed. ‘Let no one say you are deficient in humour.’

‘Does any?’

‘I confess I thought you thus when first we met at the Cape, but I have long thought it otherwise, that it is merely the mask of command.’

Hervey sighed, coming to a resolution. ‘My good friend, you have been the best of companions these twelve months and more. We shall go to Scotland on our return. Honours and appointments shall wait.’

Fairbrother eyed him gravely. ‘My dear Hervey, I shall not hold you to it, for I should never wish to have you do other than what you see as duty, but I shall, if circumstances permit, look forward to the expedition. That is all.’

And then, towards mid-morning, Hervey received intelligence that wholly changed his contemplation of the day. At Iskender with General Budberg’s brigade, which had previously been sent to intercept the flight of any Turk troops, and especially messengers, towards Constantinople, was the very man whom Princess Lieven had urged him to meet – Leutnant von Moltke. That in itself might not have impelled him to act (although, in truth, he had already decided that if the occasion arose he would do as she bid), but the principal news was that he was in the company of General von Muffling, an emissary to the Porte from the King of Prussia. Muffling had been Field Marshal Blucher’s officier de liaison with the Duke of Wellington at Waterloo, and afterwards in Paris. Hervey had once been presented to him. It might prove valuable – yielding information of use, perhaps, to Lord Hill – if he were to go at once to Iskender, and before Muffling met with Diebitsch.

‘Is it so very urgent?’ asked Fairbrother from deep in his book, and enjoying yet another perfectly ripe fig. ‘Can we not wait until evening? Besides, I shall understand nothing. Acton will be returned in an hour or so; he will bear your armour.’

Hervey shook his head. ‘I can’t wait on him. If we can intercept Muffling there’s a chance he might speak frankly with me.’

Fairbrother looked at his friend somewhat askance. But then, with the greatest show of reluctance, he laid aside Guy Mannering, carefully placed the remaining figs in his small pack, and buckled on his sword.