The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon - Страница 100

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‘I am sure that the French share your opinion,’Arthur smiled.‘Which is why General Graham will use the mountain roads to appear where the enemy least expect us. As it happens, our engineers have been at work over the winter removing the worst of the obstacles on the route. It will be hard going but there will be no opposition and we will have turned the enemy’s flank. As soon as Graham has cleared the mountains he will march along the Douro to Toro where General Hill’s column will join him, after leaving a small garrison at Salamanca. By the start of June we will have eighty thousand men ready to take Burgos and clear the north of Spain. In the meantime, Joseph will not know which way to turn. If all goes well we can shatter his formations before they have a chance to concentrate. Any questions?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Picton grumbled. ‘This is all very well, but what if Joseph takes advantage of our position north of the Douro to strike west and cut our communications with Portugal? We have to protect our supply lines to Lisbon.’

‘Not for much longer.’ Arthur indicated the northern coast of Spain. ‘I have given orders for our siege guns to be loaded on to a convoy that is already anchored off Coruсa. Our new supply base will be Santander once we have taken the port.’

His generals grasped the significance at once, Arthur was pleased to see. He continued, ‘With Santander in our hands we will dominate the north of Spain, cutting Joseph off from France. In that case, what choice does he have but to fight us? The alternative is to retreat from Spain altogether, which will not endear him to his brother.’

Beresford nodded approvingly. ‘A fine plan, sir. Why, we could hold the line of the Ebro before the year is out.’

‘The Ebro be damned! I fully intend us to reach the Pyrenees by then.’

‘And after that?’ Picton intervened. ‘What? You intend to invade France?’

Arthur was aware that every general was hanging on his reply, but he simply pursed his lips. ‘One thing at a time, eh, Picton? Even though I know you are in a hurry to reach Paris.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Well then, gentlemen, that is the broad plan. You will keep it strictly to yourselves. I will not tolerate any croaking to your friends and family back in England. We’ve had enough of that in the past, and it is my belief that by the time this year is over, the army will be the toast of our country, and any naysayers will look like complete fools. Now then, Somerset has your sealed orders. Take them back to your headquarters and prepare to march.’

The generals rose from their chairs and slowly filed out of the room, exchanging excited remarks as they collected their orders from the table by the door. Arthur watched them closely. Only Picton seemed to be unaffected by the high spirits, but then Picton was disposed towards seeing the worst in plans and men alike. But for his fighting qualities Arthur might have been tempted to dispense with his services long ago. Somerset closed the door behind them and returned to examine the map in silence for a moment.

‘Penny for your thoughts, Somerset.’

Somerset turned towards him. ‘It occurs to me that you might be thinking of ending the year’s campaign on the far side of the Pyrenees, rather than the Spanish side, sir.’

‘Really?’ Arthur raised an eyebrow. ‘And why is that?’

‘If Joseph is forced to fight you in northern Spain and we defeat him, then the game is up for the French south of the Pyrenees. That’s clear enough. But if we cross into France, in such force that we can remain on French soil through the winter, then it would be a devastating blow to French morale.’

‘Yes. I expect it would.’

Somerset thought for a moment. ‘Why did you not tell the others, my lord? It might have added to their inspiration.’

‘I should have thought you would know my methods well enough to guess by now. You saw how they reacted to the prospect of reaching the Pyrenees. Some of them are certain that I am over-extending the army. Like the French, they assume I am wedded to waging war in a defensive manner. The time for that is past. This year we are strong enough to send the French reeling. The men have never been in better condition and in better spirits, in contrast to the enemy. Beresford would have us stop on the bank of the Ebro. By offering the Pyrenees instead, I have set them a challenge, but one that they can believe in. If I said France, then I would have planted the seeds of trepidation in their hearts. Besides, my generals are not my only audience in this little drama of ours.’

‘Sir?’

‘Our political masters in London would think me mad to advance so far. So I have told them even less than the generals know. It is always better to give people a lesser ambition to aim for, so that their sense of achievement is all the greater when they exceed it. If we reach France, then I am sure you can imagine how grateful our country will be to us, Somerset.’

‘Indeed, sir. You are certain to be rewarded handsomely.’

Arthur looked hard at him. ‘Is that what you think motivates me?’

‘I did not say that, my lord.’

‘You did not say it.’ Arthur laughed drily.‘Oh, I have had my rewards. I was made a lord after Talavera, then an earl, and a marquess for Salamanca and now the Order of the Garter. Our Spanish and Portuguese allies have conferred dukedoms on me, and so our soldiers call me, though with some measure of jest. I dare say that in time I may even become a duke of England. But these are all baubles, Somerset. Baubles. What drives me is not a title, nor some ribbon, nor a bejewelled star, but the prospect of a Europe free from French tyranny. That is a cause worth fighting for, and dying for if need be. Do I make myself quite clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Arthur stared at him for a moment and then clapped his hands together. ‘That’s that, then. Are there any other matters requiring my attention?’

Somerset could not help smiling. ‘Just one thing, my lord. It arrived from London today. I shall fetch it.’ He hurried out of the room to his desk in the anteroom. A moment later he reappeared with a velvet case the size of a large book. He set it down on the table, together with a small note addressed to Arthur in the unmistakable spidery writing of his wife Kitty. He broke the seal and opened the letter and read the brief message.

My dearest Arthur,

I know how you dislike my intruding upon you when your mind is set on military affairs and the duty you owe to your country. It is some months since I last received a letter from you, and it seems I learn more about you from the newspapers and the gossip of the wives of your officers than I do from your hand directly. My Arthur, I know that I am not the wife you deserve. I know it more and more with the passage of each year. Yet I love you, and our children love you, and long for you to return to us. I know that you cannot before the war is over, and while we wait please know that we take the most intense pride in what you have achieved for our nation. In token of which, I forward the enclosed, sent to us from Windsor, and trust that it will remind you of the affection in which you are held by so many. Your loving wife, Kitty.

Arthur refolded the letter and returned it to the table. He knew that he should feel guilty, but that sentiment refused to stir in his breast. Just a deadening certainty that Kitty spoke the truth, and that he would never be able to care for her in the way that she wanted.

For an instant, he wondered what would become of them when the war did end. Assuming he survived, then what would he do? For twenty years he had known little but war. He had refined his martial abilities to a fine edge and was proud of himself, his officers and his men. What did the prospect of peace offer to such a man as himself? A return to the ennui of life out of uniform, and Kitty . . .

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