Bielefeldt didn’t waste words. ‘Sir, this is our disposition. Almost our entire army is in Holstein, too far to arrive here in time. Within the city we have five and a half thousand regular troops and can count on a further two and a half thousand others. Should we call on volunteers for a Copenhagen burgher militia we could probably muster another four thousand, including eight hundred students from the university, a total of some twelve thousand.’
He wiped his brow. ‘However, we have in the country nineteen battalions of landev?rn to call upon if necessary and with this force I’m sanguine we can hold the city until our brothers from Holstein arrive.’
‘Very good, Generallojtnant. Kommandor Bille?’
With hard, thrusting flourishes, the sea officer outlined the situation and his intentions. So forceful was his delivery that several grim smiles surfaced around the table and Peymann’s lines of worry eased. ‘Thank you. I can tell you all here that I’ve established we have sufficient provisions in the Citadel storehouses to withstand a siege of a month or more. Our water supply is secured by pipes from the country and the municipal authorities have been most co-operative in the article of regulation.’ He sat back. ‘Then it seems we have something of value for His Royal Highness’s consideration. I shall send word.’
It was not for some hours that the Crown Prince appeared, pale-faced and clearly distracted. ‘What is it, Peymann? Have you anything for me?’ he said curtly.
Humbly, the elderly officer laid before him plans and preparations, but was cut off in the details.
‘That’s good, Generalmajor. I can see I chose well. Then it seems I can safely leave the defence of Copenhagen in your trustworthy hands, sir.’
‘L-leave?’ stammered Peymann.
‘Why, yes. I’m preparing my departure from Copenhagen in order to rejoin my troops in Kiel. You are left as paramount leader, and if the English make motions towards the city your duty is to defend it and its loyal inhabitants at all costs. Are my commands understood?’
‘They are, Highness, but-’
‘I have no time to discuss this further. Carry on with your preparations and God be with you.’
Chapter 51
As soon as the dispatch cutter from Kiel threw lines ashore, Renzi stepped on to the quay, aware of the changed atmosphere of the capital. Everywhere was noise and commotion. In place of stolid placidity, people hurried purposefully, some hailing each other excitedly.
The Amalienborg was close and he quickly found his apartment. ‘Lady Farndon, how is she?’ he demanded of Jago.
‘Well, m’ lord,’ he replied imperturbably, ‘she’s stayin’ with Frow Rosen at the Frederiksborg Castle.’
It was a relief. Away from it all in the country, with king’s guards and friends, she was in no danger.
‘I’ll need to bathe and shave this very instant. And set out my court undress.’
As he lay back in the ornate marble tub Renzi reviewed his options.
There was no royal pennon atop the Christian VII palace so he was not in residence there, but where?
He decided to have Jago send out one of the Danish staff to hear the street gossip. If he did not learn anything in that way, he would go to Joachim Bernstorff, who, no doubt, had received word from his brother by the same dispatch cutter that had brought himself. It reminded him of his late mission to Constantinople with another fleet menacing offshore, but the resemblance stopped there. In Turkey he had had no control over events and had been swept along in a spiral of horror. Here it was another matter: unbeknown to the Danish, the armada would not stir from its anchors unless it received specific word from himself.
He had time to persuade Frederik to another course, but the fleet could not wait indefinitely. The proud regent might by now have had second thoughts about the price of defiance and if he could make a compromise palatable there was a chance. He must be found.
But Jago came back with word that on the streets there were contradictions and rumours that were useless.
Chapter 52
Bernstorff gave Renzi a polite bow. ‘My lord, your visit to Kiel was … not to your advantage, as I understand from my brother.’
Renzi gave a small smile. ‘I’m sanguine, sir, he will have preferred you to phrase it rather that it was not to our advantage.’
‘This has to be accepted, my lord. Then what is to be done?’
‘I desire you seek an audience for me, sir. There’s still time.’
‘Time? Do you know the mind of the English admiral, his orders, his objectives?’
‘While he remains at anchor there is always time, Count Bernstorff. Will you now-’
‘I note your petition for an audience, and from my brother, I know something of its importance.’ He gave a sad smile. ‘Yet I can do nothing – I have no idea where His Royal Highness is, you see.’
‘Sir! I find it-’
‘The Crown Prince is exercised by considerations of urgency and conceives it his duty to be everywhere there are preparations to be made. He does not see fit to inform me of his hourly movements.’
‘Then I must seek him out for myself.’
‘As you like. Although … you may wish to ponder another development.’
‘Sir?’
‘I happen to know, as it is my business to be so informed, that the French have received a substantial communication from their commander-in-chief.’
‘Bonaparte?’
Bernstorff gave a wordless bow.
‘In response to the British presence? Then it would oblige me much, sir, should you be so good as to inform me of its import.’
‘Ah, would that I could, my lord. It is more than our neutral status might stand should we trespass upon diplomatic territory …’
It was perplexing. For what reason had this broad hint been thrown out?
‘Why do you tell me of this, Count Bernstorff?’
‘We are neutrals, Lord Farndon. Should we not treat evenly with both sides? It is only right you should know matters as bear upon you.’
That wasn’t the reason but he had a good idea what was.
‘I thank you for your civility, Count. I’m obliged.’
Chapter 53
Back at the Amalienborg Palace Renzi took stock. This was an unpleasant turn of events.
Bonaparte was notorious for his personal interventions that could in a stroke extinguish an empire or place a brother on a throne. It would not be coincidence that he’d think to take swift action in response to a British military threat, and it was critical its nature be known. Bernstorff himself was not about to risk his precious neutrality in underhanded prying, but had cast about for one who would have little to lose by it.
An act of espionage? It was out of the question. He didn’t have any contact with agents here and, in any case, setting aside the personal danger, the risk of long-term compromise of his cover ruled it out completely.
Yet if it threatened the fleet – if it was even now sailing into the jaws of a trap – it didn’t bear thinking about.
There was no alternative. He had to act.
His mind raced ahead. Bernstorff’s information almost certainly came from a low-level clerk or plain backstairs curiosity at the fuss the receipt of such a message must have provoked. The missive itself would now be somewhere in Gobineau’s office – or more probably, given its significance, his inner sanctum. To get to it, read it, was a rank impossibility.
Or was it?
French diplomatic staff were famously corrupt. Talleyrand’s demands of a private bribe of tens of thousands before he would even talk to American negotiators had infuriated them to the extent that it had resulted in war. Surely the sight of a letter could be bought.
But he didn’t know Gobineau or others in the French legation well enough to be confident in making such an approach, and it would leave him exposed as an agent.