"It would please me well t' see 'em at first hand, if that were possible," Kydd said stoutly. His answer would serve whether these were places or things.
Renzi hurried to his rescue: "Since I have been absent, sir, has progress been made at all on the discoveries of Herculaneum?"
"Indeed so! Should you be at leisure on the morrow, it is my practice, as you may recollect, to mount to the rim of Vesuvius in the interests of science. It would certainly be possible to visit Ercolano on our way. Might I suggest the hour of eight o' clock?"
Herculaneum turned out to be a dusty expanse of crumbling ruins, picked over by paid labourers and dilettantes. Kydd was glad they had taken the precaution of shifting to shore clothing and stout shoes.
Renzi was in his element, happily exchanging observations on the House of Argus, Pliny the Elder and other unpronounceable names. Kydd was glad for him, but it seemed an age before they resumed their carriage and made for the colossal, glowering presence of the volcano.
"Has it been, er, angry at all since ..."
Hamilton smiled. "We had a brisk entertainment in 'seventy-nine, certainly, and have had some alarums since. But had you confided your unease to me before we left I could have provided you with a phial of the blood of San Gennaro, which infallibly protects those who venture on the slopes of Vesuvius."
"That won't be necessary," said Kydd, and stared out at the scrubby countryside. It grew thin and bare and, with a sudden thrill, he caught sight of the first brown-black hardened lava flows. A little further on the carriage stopped at a small gathering of waiting retainers and horses.
"We shall ride to the end of the track, gentlemen. Then we will be obliged to walk the rest of the way." Hamilton swung astride a pony and led the party in single file up a steep path that wound round the massive flanks of the volcano. They rode in silence, the uneasy quiet and garish rocks speaking to Kydd of a devilish underworld that lay beneath him ready to explode at any moment.
The soil lost the last of its vegetation, its colour now an inflamed dull red. Then the track petered out and the horses were slipping on the grey-black cinder that covered everything in sight. "Now we walk," Hamilton said, and dismounted.
They trudged up an incline, the cinders crunching underfoot. The acrid pungency of the volcano hung on the air. Renzi glanced at Kydd's set face and grinned. "You are in the best of hands, brother. Sir William's writings on the character of volcanoes are applauded throughout the civilised world."
Kydd muttered, in a low voice, "Y' know well that I can't abide fire—and now y' asks me to look on the fires o' hell itself."
Hamilton affected not to hear. "I'd give half my fortune to be in England when they receive news of your famous victory."
Renzi chuckled. "There'll be a scramble on 'Change, I'd wager," he said. "Pitt will see his chance to turn the credit to hard coin—it will quite put the opposition to the blush."
"No doubt," said Hamilton, regarding Renzi curiously. "But you must appreciate that the greater effect will be here. Conceive of it—not just a victory over the French but their annihilation! They now have no means to support their claim to the Mediterranean. In short, the careful building of colonies and garrisons since you were driven from the Mediterranean is as nothing now. All are isolated and ripe for our seizing, one by one and at our convenience.
"You will be aware that Turkey has declared against France and is opening the Dardanelles to our ships. Austria is much heartened—as you will know the Queen of Naples is the daughter of an Austrian emperor and is now in raptures. Dare we hope that a Second Coalition is possible?"
Renzi nodded quietly.
A crooked smile appeared on Hamilton's face. "But what I relish most is the sure knowledge that at this very moment the first general of France, Napoleon Buonaparte, is stranded helplessly in the deserts of Egypt with above thirty thousand of his best troops—and no hope of rescue."
Kydd swelled with pride. Their hard chase and heroic battle had brought about an abrupt change in the balance of power of far more significance than any of the endless land battles he had heard about. And all this could rightly be ascribed to the achievement of one man: Horatio Nelson.
"We're masters of the Mediterranean for now, sir," Renzi said respectfully. "What do you see as our probable future course?"
Hamilton's low chuckle was almost inaudible. "We have won a great victory, Mr Renzi, but we have by no means won a war. We are sadly beset on all sides, with precious few friends and no recognisable strategy for turning defence to aggression."
A fragment of low cloud enveloped them in a cool embrace, its sombre light depressing. Then it dissipated and the warm sun returned. Stopping suddenly, Hamilton turned and pointed to the Bay of Naples below, a breathtaking sweep of scores of miles. "There, sir, beyond the point of Posillipo, it is there you should ask your question."
"Bacoli?" said Renzi, puzzled.
"No. I speak of the cave of the Cumaean sybil, which still exists. Perhaps you should seek your future at the feet of the prophetess, receive your oracle as did so many from distant lands in the time of the ancients."
The three stood on the flank of the volcano, held by the vast panorama with all its beauty and antiquity. "I believe we must press on—it's another hour yet," Hamilton said, glancing down the track to where a laden mule and servants followed behind them.
Eventually the ground levelled and they found themselves standing on the rim of Vesuvius. Kydd felt his palms sweat in a way they never had even at the height of the battle, for the track was only a few feet wide, meandering along next to the colossal maw of the volcano. A Stygian stink of steam and sulphur hung on the air, but to Kydd's mingled relief and disappointment there was no heaving hell of fire in the interior, merely dead scree slopes and untidy heaps of grey ash from which vapours issued.
While Renzi helped Hamilton with his stakes, chain measures and thermometers, Kydd wandered along the path, fascinated and repelled. It felt like some great sleeping beast that was harmless until a careless act woke it to terrible life. He was not sorry when Hamilton concluded his work and they set off down the track to the horses.
When they arrived it was already late afternoon and a spectacular sunset promised to the west, directly at their feet.
"Sir," Renzi said suddenly, "it would gratify my spirit beyond words were we to linger a while to partake in the close of this day ..."
Hamilton grunted as he heaved himself up on to his pony. "I understand you, Renzi, please believe me, but tonight I am to receive someone who has travelled far, and must prepare. Should you wish, however, I shall send my carriage back for you."
"That is most kind in you, Sir William," Renzi said, with a bow.
Kydd sighed with exasperation, but as he had seen in the South Seas, Renzi was always most at peace in the midst of one of nature's displays and it would not be a kindness to fret about moving on. They settled on the cinders and watched the unfolding beauty. "And afterwards, dear friend, we shall sample the entertainments of the night at the first hand," Renzi said softly.
There was peace of a kind here, on the flanks of a volcano that had devoured all of two ancient towns, but to Kydd it was the peace of the dead. What he could not get out of his mind was the magnitude of their recent success—and all the consequence of a single mind's contriving and command.
" 'Like madness is the glory of this life,'" Renzi murmured, his eyes fixed on the gathering rose and gold display.
"What was that you said, Nicholas?" Kydd asked politely.
His eyes still on the gathering sunset, Renzi declaimed, "'Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch of the ranged empire fall. Here is my space. Kingdoms are clay.'"
Kydd frowned. "That's as may be, Nicholas, but you'll agree, we've a famous victory t' be proud of."