Invasion

Er, pray refrain from discussing your visit with anyone. That is, anyone whomsoever. Do you understand me?'

'Aye aye, sir,' Renzi replied, taken aback.

'Very well. I shall call away our own boat immediately. There's no need to detain yours. And do get rid of that raffle—I hardly think Walmer are likely to be interested in your weekly accounts or similar.' He chuckled.

This was strange indeed. Renzi had seen Walmer Castle from the sea, a low, round edifice like Deal Castle, also dating back to the eighth King Henry. He had heard that it was now home to the Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, an honorary position under the Crown whose origins were lost in medieval antiquity.

The castle was near the edge of the beach at a secluded location a mile to the south of Deal. A tight-lipped lieutenant accompanied Renzi as they trudged up the shingle and approached the ancient bastions.

'Halt, an' who goes there?' It was the first of many sentinels who challenged them before they reached the round Tudor gatehouse and Renzi felt stirrings of unease. Army sentries at a private residence?

The lieutenant spoke to the gatekeeper sergeant, who took Renzi in charge, gruffly telling him to follow. They went through the echoing gateway and upstairs, eventually entering a distinguished residence with hanging pictures and velvet curtains. With kitchen odours and the distinctive serge and leathery smell of soldiery, it appeared well tenanted too.

They passed into a central corridor, then mid-way along the sergeant stopped and knocked at a door. It was answered by a well-dressed civilian. 'Renzi? Do come in, old chap.'

Warily, he entered the small room, with its single desk and visitor's chair opposite illuminated by a mullioned gunport. 'Sit down, make yourself at home. Tea, or . . . ?'

Renzi declined refreshments.

'Hobson, Aliens Office. You must be wondering why we've asked you here,' he began mildly.

Renzi remained silent.

Hobson went on, 'We have the warmest recommendation from Commodore d'Auvergne in Jersey as to your probity and reliability, which leads us to consider whether in the matter of—'

'No!'

'—a particular and delicate service—'

'I am never a spy, sir.'

'—of the highest importance to the interests of this country, that you would consider—'

'Understand me now, sir. I find the practices of spying repugnant to my character and odious in the extreme. Should you—'

'Mr. Renzi. No one has mentioned spying that I recall. This concerns an entirely different matter and I confess I'm quite at a loss to account for your hostile manner, sir.' He paused, then resumed stiffly, 'You will be aware of the humane and practical custom between belligerents of the exchange of prisoners-of-war, both of paroled officers and the common sort.'

'I am, of course,' Renzi replied.

'Then you will be as dismayed as His Majesty's government at the abhorrent actions of the French in detaining our prisoners with no hope of repatriation in any wise, contrary to the usages of war, which, until the present conflict, have always served perfectly adequately.'

Renzi knew of the unprecedented act of barbarism by Bonaparte at the outset of the war in seizing every Englishman, high or low, military or harmless tourist, and incarcerating them, along with their women. Was this to be some crazy rescue attempt?

Hobson continued in the same tone. 'There is to be noted a marked imbalance in prisoners held. At the moment we hold some three or four times as many French as they do ours, and it is our belief that this may be the means to bring Napoleon to a more rational standing on the matter.'

'To negotiate?'

'Quite so. Agreement has recently been reached with the French government through an intermediary for a diplomatic mission to be sent by us to explore the question.'

'You wish me to—'

'No, Mr. Renzi, we do not. The foreign secretary, Lord Hawkes-bury, has appointed a Mr. Haslip, lately of the Transport Board, to conduct the mission. It is his wish to be accompanied by one in the undoubted character of gentleman who, at the same time, might be relied upon to undertake the humbler—but nevertheless vital—tasks as they present themselves.'

Despite himself, Renzi could not smother a cynical chuckle.

'Come, come, sir. This is not an occasion for humour. Consider, if you will, the families of the unfortunates in the fortress prisons of France with no hope of release. The hardships they must daily face, the—'

'I thank you for your consideration, Mr. Hobson, but I have to tell you I am perfectly content where I am.'

Hobson steepled his hands in thought. 'You do surprise me, Renzi. Clerk of a brig-sloop, now to be given the opportunity to visit Paris, the home of Diderot, Rousseau and Enlightened Man—and, while under diplomatic protection, to be quite free to take your fill of the sights and mingle in learned company . . .'

He had Renzi's avid interest now. This was another matter entirely. Savants of sufficiently adequate stature on both sides were—after considerable fuss at the highest level—sometimes given safe-conduct for the express purpose of furthering human knowledge and were thereby able to pass unhindered between warring nations. That he, unpublished and unknown, could enjoy the same privilege would be an incredible stroke of fortune.

'Er, there is no question of my abusing such a position to engage in activities in the nature of spying, of course.'