In London, Nathan Rothschild was receiving another luminary in his chambers—one who’d helped put Napoleon on the rock.
“Lord Wellington,” said Nathan, “I understand that your wish has finally been granted, and that you are given permission to retire from the field of battle.”
“Yes,” said Wellington. “As I’ve often observed, anyone who’s ever seen a battle, even for a day, would not willingly choose to see one again, even for an hour.”
“And yet you do so well in a field for which you have no taste. Imagine, if you’d chosen something you’d loved, what you might have accomplished!”
“Yes, I can see that you are the living example of that, Rothschild. It’s said of you always that you love money better than anyone else has ever loved it. And now you’re wealthier than anyone—living or dead—has ever been—rich enough to have saved the British Empire from devastating ruin, and most of Europe as well.”
“Money has bought freedom and a way of life that even my father could not have imagined when he began,” agreed Nathan. “The power of wealth for good—or ill—should never be underestimated.”
“I understand that with Europe now free, you and your brothers are beginning something new, something that will give you even more control.”
“It’s a simple idea, really, and a service that has been provided by financiers informally for centuries. We call it a clearinghouse.”
“You’re changing money for the crowned heads of Europe—is that it?”
“That and far more,” said Nathan. “Until now banks have provided financing or interest on deposits. But henceforth, we’ll be able to change coin as required—even during wartime—without depressing the value of any currency. In effect, we will control the stability of currencies in this fashion.”
“It will be a great boon to the economy of Europe—a kind of common currency market,” agreed Wellington. “I admit, I’ve never been so astonished as when I left Spain after defeating the French army there. We entered France to meet Napoleon’s armies as they retreated from Russia—and the gold I received from you was sent through France—the country of the enemy—and in French coin! How did you work this miracle?”
“We persuaded the British government to spread the rumor that they were devaluing their own currency. As a result, the French permitted us to bring British gold into France, thinking that in doing so they were draining the enemy’s gold supply. We used it to purchase letters of credit drawn on Spanish banks. In this manner, we moved the money across international borders, avoiding both suspicion and taxation. My dear Wellington, one day governments will understand, as bankers do, that the purse strings are the only strings worth pulling. And a just government is one that supports a free economy.”
“Ah Rothschild, you’re a man of genius and ambition. I am only a poor soldier, sick to death of war. For myself—now that I’ve an annuity and a title, I long only for peace. I leave tomorrow for my estate in Ireland, where I’ll ‘tend my own garden,’ as Voltaire once advised us to do. And may there never be war again in our time. What has made you rich has made me weary.”
“Do not take too keenly to planting, is my advice,” said Nathan. “One never knows what the future may hold. My father was a chess player, you know. He always used to say that the best player was not the one who could see ahead; rather, he was the one who could adapt his strategy to the placement of the pieces at any given time. And that’s true of many things besides chess.”
“It’s surely true in battle,” agreed Wellington. “But I wanted to say good-bye before I went into retreat in Ireland. I even thought of bringing a gift in thanks for all that you’ve done for me—and for Britain—but I couldn’t imagine what one might give a man of your wealth and position. You’ve already a title you do not choose to use. Is there something you’ve wanted that I might provide, in thanks for all your aid?”
“In fact, there is,” said Rothschild. “I’d like you to accept a gift from me.”
“From you? Impossible! You’ve done so much already.…”
“My dear Wellington, you must remember that the gifts a rich man bestows always have strings attached—that’s how he becomes so rich.”
“What is it then?” Wellington laughed. “You pique my curiosity.”
“This small basket,” said Nathan, “which I hope you will keep by your side at all times. No—don’t open it now. Inside, you will find some small gray birds, and I will tell you what I want you to do with them.…”
THE PAYOFF
Money is the root of all civilization.
—Will and Ariel Durant
We hiked over the hill that next morning, Lelia and Pearl riding in the cart behind like a small army preparing for battle.
When the Vagabond committee showed up two weeks hence as new proprietors, someone would have to show them the ropes of the business they’d bought. Since Lawrence might recognize Pearl and would surely know me, we two would have to remain in hiding at the castle during their stay.
Therefore, we hit upon Georgian to demonstrate the foreign exchange operation. Today was her first day of training and she was none too pleased.
“Camera F-stops are the only numbers I understand,” she complained as we walked before the cart, kicking up dust. “They told me I have to explain this stuff as if I’ve been doing it all my life.”
“How tough could it be?” I asked her. “After all, if Pearl’s made millions at it in only a few short months, anyone can do it!”
I glanced over my shoulder at Pearl, who shot me a look from her perch in the cart. Georgian, Tor, and I stepped aside to let the horse and cart pass, jouncing Lelia and Pearl as
