General Baird came to see him early in May. He stood a short distance from the bed and shook his head sadly as he gazed down at Arthur.
‘The fleet is sailing tomorrow. I wish you were coming with us.’
‘So do I, sir.’
‘I can understand that. After all the work you have put into preparing this army, you deserve to be there when it goes into action.You’ve done a fine job,Wellesley. I have no doubt that your brother’s confidence in your abilities is fully justified.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘There is a ship, the Susannah, which is waiting here to pick up the last consignment of powder. She leaves in ten days. If you have recovered by then, you can leave with her and catch us up. After that, the shift in the trade winds pattern will make it almost impossible to reach the Red Sea in time.’
‘I understand, sir.’
‘Once again, my thanks.’ Baird smiled. ‘I think you’ll understand if I refrain from shaking your hand.’
Arthur laughed, then winced as the movement brought on a fresh wave of fiery irritation.
‘I hope to see you in Egypt, then.’
Arthur nodded. ‘Goodbye, sir.’
His recovery proceeded slowly, too slowly to re-join the expedition, and Arthur watched sadly from the window of the hospital as the Susannahslipped her moorings and headed out to sea.
Three days later a cargo ship arrived with the news that the crew had witnessed the Susannahfounder in a storm, taking every soul aboard with her.
When Arthur heard this, he could not help wondering at the perversity of fate. To have given him a reputation-making command only to take it away, then make him too ill to join the expedition, and thereby miss a terrible death at sea. It was impossible to know if there was any divine design to his life. Rather, he seemed to be swung from fortune to misfortune with the regularity of a metronome. As his health slowly recovered Arthur’s grievance against Richard for his decision to replace him continued to fester after an exchange of letters failed to resolve their differences. Richard refused to acknowledge that he had been pressured into withdrawing Arthur’s command, and maintained that the reason for his decision was his need for Arthur’s services in India.
Once he was well enough to travel, Arthur took a ship to Mangalore and then rode inland back to Seringapatam. He arrived early in May, as a thunderstorm lashed the city. Arthur’s illness had turned his hair grey at the temples, and his skin was still acutely sensitive as a result of the painful treatment he had undergone to cure the Malabar Itch. Vingetty did his best to make his master comfortable as the humidity of the monsoon season continued to aggravate his condition. He resumed his duties as military governor and summoned Barry Close to a meeting as soon as he returned to his office.
‘It’s good to see you back, sir.’ Close smiled warmly as he entered the office and shook Arthur’s hand.
‘I trust that Mysore has been running smoothly in my absence.’
Close cocked his head to one side. ‘We have peace, trade and taxes, but there are still a few malcontents out there trying to stir up bad feeling against the Company.’
‘Thus it ever was,’ Arthur replied wearily. ‘But nothing to concern us unduly, I take it?’
Close hesitated a moment before he replied. ‘I’m not so sure, sir. I’ve had some disturbing reports from my agents in the Mahratta federation.’
‘Well?’
‘It seems that some of the warlords have hired themselves a number of French mercenaries to train scores of battalions of new recruits.’
‘Which warlords exactly?’
‘Scindia and Holkar.At the moment Holkar is remaining loyal to the Peshwa, but Scindia?’ Close shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea what the devil’s up to.’
‘But you have some suspicions,’ Arthur prompted.
‘Yes, sir.Yes I do.’ Close stroked his chin. ‘I believe he intends to rise up against the Peshwa, and impose a puppet ruler of his own. Scindia’s men have also been raiding into Hyderabad. It’s possible he plans to seize control of Hyderabad as well.’
Arthur quickly thought through the implications. ‘If that happens, Scindia will pose a far greater threat to our interests than Tipoo ever did.’
‘That’s my fear, sir.’ Close nodded. ‘And we would have a war on our hands, the like of which has never been witnessed on Indian soil.’
Chapter 62
Napoleon
Paris, July 1800
‘I gave them a great victory!’ Napoleon slammed his fist down on the desk. ‘What more do they want of me?’
The First Consul and his closest advisers had just returned to the Luxembourg Palace after the celebrations of the anniversary of the fall of the Bastile. There had been the usual parades by the National Guard units, a few speeches to remember those who gave their lives for the revolution, and then the entry into the arena of over a hundred of the veterans of Marengo. Lucien had planned the moment carefully. The men wore tattered uniforms, some were bandaged, and they carried the colours of the Austrian regiments that had surrendered in the rout that followed Desaix’s heroic counter-attack. When the soldiers appeared the band struck up a specially composed piece of uplifting music, and the tens of thousands of Parisians who had gathered to watch the spectacle were supposed to burst into wild patriotic cheers. Instead they remained stonily silent and the final fanfare sounded flat and false as the notes faded. Napoleon had barely been able to contain his fury as the carriages made their way back to the palace, and finally gave vent to his rage as they entered the First Consul’s private apartments. Lucien, Talleyrand and Fouché had sat still through the tirade and now waited a moment to be sure that the storm had run its course before daring to respond.
Lucien kept his voice calm as he answered. ‘Victories are all very well, but the people want peace, brother.’
‘Peace?’ Napoleon pressed a hand over his heart. ‘Don’t they understand that I want peace too? There is no man in France who yearns for peace more than I do. But we can only have peace once our enemies are defeated. At the moment they will not accept anything less than the restoration of the Bourbons and the destruction of all that the revolution has achieved.’
Talleyrand coughed lightly and Napoleon rounded on him with a cynical smile. ‘Are you ill, or is it that you have something to say?’
‘Citizen Consul, I am merely concerned about the notion of having peace only when our enemies are defeated.’
‘Really? I would have thought it was axiomatic.’
‘There is another way. We must negotiate a peace.’
Napoleon sighed wearily. ‘That’s precisely what we are trying to do. Even with their armies defeated and an armistice agreed, the Austrians are delaying moves towards signing a peace treaty at every opportunity.’
‘They will see reason, in time,’ Talleyrand offered.
‘If they don’t see the gleam of English gold first, to lure them back into war.’
‘Precisely,’ Talleyrand countered. ‘The problem is England. While we are at war with England there will be no prospect of peace for France. We must deal with England.’
‘Oh, we’ll deal with them all right.’ Napoleon nodded. ‘The moment we land a French army on their shores. We’ll dictate peace terms from their houses of Parliament.’