Hervey 06 - Rumours Of War (32 page)

‘Do you love me, Matthew?’

Why did she ask? And why now? She had never made his love – in the sense she now meant it – a condition of their association, and he certainly had never protested it. There could be no other answer but yes or no.

‘No, of course you don’t. Matthew Hervey could not love another woman.’

He frowned. ‘Kat, you cannot say that.’

She merely raised an eyebrow, quizzically. ‘So, what do you suppose you deserve to hear of my essay on your behalf last evening?’

Hervey was at once qualmish. Had it all become an affair of barter? ‘Kat—’

‘Well, you may be grateful that I am a proficient at whist, for the Forbeses are devoted to the game and I was the chargé’s partner.’

Hervey smiled, relieved that Kat made light of matters again.

‘And well may you look content, Matthew, for the form of the evening gave me ample opportunity to advance your cause. Not that Mr Forbes required much persuasion. His opinion of Colonel Norris is, I would say, not high. He believes the cost of putting those lines of his in order would dismay the Portuguese. So he is sending a letter to Mr Canning to advocate
your
design. That is, I believe he will do so.’

Hervey smiled again, but this time with intense satisfaction. He bent to kiss her once more.

‘No, Matthew,’ she protested, teasing with practised perfection. ‘I think I will have some tea, if you please.’

Fortune now truly began to favour Hervey. When he went to Norris’s quarters a little after nine, he learned that the colonel had left for Torres Vedras at five. It gave him sufficient of a pretext to apply at once to the chargé d’affaires in person. Mr Forbes, already disposed to think the best of a man recently appointed Companion of the Most Honourable Military Order of the Bath, and who had presented a design for intervention more practical and economical than Norris’s own, at once gave him leave to go to Elvas. Moreover, Forbes said that he himself would go at once to the Negócios Estrangeiros e Guerra to discover what he could of the official intelligence; and, too, he gave him discretionary powers to take what measures he saw fit. While these were not actually plenipotentiary, they nevertheless released Hervey from the obligation of referring his action to Colonel Norris (Hervey thought it a truer mark of his standing than any ribbon). Nevertheless, his military sensibility obliged him to report his intentions in writing, and so he returned briefly to his quarters to pen a letter to Norris, with a copy to Lord John Howard at the Horse Guards.

*

Kat was at his quarters still, enjoying a breakfast of coffee and brioche, Johnson attending her with all the address of a practised lady’s maid. Hervey told her what Forbes had said, and thanked her again for her interventions. He had even managed to find flowers for her, gardenias.

‘I shall leave by noon, Kat,’ he said, taking her hand once Johnson had left.

‘The Portuguese lady will not be accompanying you?’ asked Kat imperatively.

Hervey smiled reassuringly. ‘She will not. The general at Elvas speaks excellent English. There is no need of Senhora Broke.’

‘And that is the sole consideration, Matthew?’

‘Kat,’ he insisted, squeezing her hand. It had hurt her to discover so casually that Isabella Delgado had been at Elvas: he understood it full well.

‘I will stay with you until you go. I have sent for my clothes. Perhaps we might take a little air together?’

‘Of course.’

‘And then, as soon as you are gone, I shall continue the embassy on your behalf with Mr Forbes. It pays always, I think, to be constantly represented at the centres of affairs.’

She said it with a kind of sportive smile, suggesting that she relished the notion for its own sake.

Not for the first time did Hervey think that if Kat could be so fervent an ally, how formidable an opponent she could also make.

PART THREE
THE LESSONS OF HISTORY

‘
The truth is that we have retreated before a rumour – an uncertain speculation – and Moore knows it . . . O that we had an enterprizing general with a reputation to make instead of one to save!
’

Mr Canning, Foreign Secretary, to Lord Bathurst, Secretary for War and Colonies, 9 January 1809

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE HORNS OF THE DILEMMA

Elvas, 29 October 1826

Hervey, with Corporal Wainwright, reached Elvas late the following evening. They might have done so sooner but instead of riding post they had each led a second horse, changing and leading the other after the first thirty miles, then alternating every twenty or so thereafter. Hervey counted it a fair feat of endurance – a hundred and twenty miles in thirty-six hours. Lusitanos, good little stayers with their Arab blood; he had never thought much of them as battle chargers, but they had served him well since coming to Portugal this time. All four were well blown by the time they reached the fortress, but they were sound still, wanting only a day or so’s rest, and not a shoe loose between them. He wondered if Johnson was being even half as well served as he made his slower progress with the bat-horses.

In his map room, in the citadel, Brigadier-General Dom Mateo de Bragança received him with evident pleasure, and an air of unconcern. Surrounded by so much polished wood, and stone the thickness of a man-o-war’s hull, it was not difficult to imagine oneself secure, thought Hervey. The paintings, the green-leather furniture, the reflecting lamps, all gave the impression of permanence, of fastness. Whether or not Dom Mateo’s composure was studied, he could not tell, and he imagined there might have been further intelligence during his journey, that the original information had been faulty. But Dom Mateo put him to rights: the rebels were assembled, he said, and waiting only the signal from Madrid, for there was to be a concert of assaults in the north and south, as well as the centre.

‘And all this intelligence from the Church,’ he said, coolly. ‘Or a part of it, for I fear a good many holy men would throw in with Miguel, thinking the fatter life would be with him.’

Hervey raised an eyebrow.

‘I have spies too, Hervey,’ he assured him, and with a look of satisfaction. He poured out two good measures of red wine. ‘I know where yet the rebels are. They cling to the walls of Badajoz, sheltering under their cannon like curs!’

Hervey raised his glass in salute. ‘To see the other side of the hill, General,’ he replied, with an approving smile.

‘The whole business of war, Hervey.’ Dom Mateo raised his glass in return. ‘Douro says so, then I am bound to succeed!’

Hervey could not but admire the
fidalgo
assurance. He was tired, however. They had slept not two hours since leaving Lisbon. But he did want to know the reason for the assurance, for he was unaware what had changed in their favour so. Dom Mateo hardly appeared a man about to begin a bullfight.

‘May I enquire your design for battle, General?’

Dom Mateo looked suddenly less sure. ‘It is true that I have not the men both to defend the fortress and to meet the rebels in the field, but yet I must. It is impossible that I should lose the fortress of Elvas – great was our humiliation when it fell to the French.’

This told Hervey nothing new, save that Dom Mateo had no fixed idea of a plan. A general must always appear confident, however, and he admired him for that at least. ‘Elvas shall therefore be your principal object?’

Dom Mateo frowned. ‘It must be so. And yet by harbouring all my strength here, the rebels may do as they will – may take the high road to Lisbon if they please. Do I defend the fortress, in that case, or does the fortress imprison me?’

‘Dom Mateo, yours must be the decision. When is it supposed the attack will come?’

‘Soon. Within one week. I have observing officers in Badajoz; they will alert us to any movement.’

Of that he sounded confident. Hervey nodded approvingly.

‘What would be your counsel, my friend?’

Hervey could feel the effects of a comfortable chair and strong wine. It would not have been so when he had first come to Portugal:
Cornet
Hervey could ride for days without sleep (that, at least, was how he recalled it). But he could not retire with the design uncertain. They had rehearsed the dilemma before, and tired though he was, Hervey thought he must do so again. ‘Senhor Saldanha himself led a force out of Lisbon to check the Duke of Abrantes in Algarve. Have you any promise of such assistance?’

‘The Conselho da Guerra would send every man it could spare!’

‘I am sure of it. But do you know how long that would be?’

‘It is impossible to say. First it would be necessary to send word to Lisbon.’

They had come full circle. The defence turned on the rapidity with which word could be got to the capital. Hervey explained his own design once again, supposing, as it did, the arrival of ten thousand British troops, the mobilization of the militia and
ordenança,
and the telegraph open. ‘Let us imagine, then, what might be the outcome of an incursion. What do you suppose would happen if the rebels could not be driven from the field here by your men? Would that of itself secure their object?’

‘And the fortress was in our hands still? They would have free rein over the country hereabout, and others might rally to them.’

‘But they would be vulnerable, yet, to a force got up from Lisbon.’

Dom Mateo nodded. ‘And there could be sorties from the fortress.’

‘Just so. They would need the strongest of rearguards if they were to march on the interior. But if the fortress were to fall to them?’

‘They would, I suppose, command what we otherwise did.’

Now Hervey nodded. ‘I think that is the material point. The situation would be the harder to recover were the fortress in rebel hands than ours. It might even be impossible. It follows, therefore, that holding Elvas must be to what our utmost effort is directed. Not the forts on the hills about, but the curtain itself and the bastions.’

Dom Mateo frowned. ‘But Hervey, I am a cavalryman;
you
are a cavalryman. It cannot do for us to sit behind walls and hurl back stones!’

Hervey smiled. He, too, detested the notion. ‘But you are no longer cavalry, Dom Mateo. You are, are you not, Estado Mayor de Praça?’

Dom Mateo sighed dolefully. ‘I compliment you, Hervey. It is true that I am no longer cavalry but the staff of a garrison. What a price to pay for a general’s silver star!’

Hervey shrugged. No vocal reply seemed required.

Dom Mateo looked resolute again. ‘There is a saying:
Foi para o Maneta.
It means one is to face a grim ordeal. Maneta – he of one hand – was the most brutal of French inquisitors in the late war, but in truth it were better to face him, for all there was then to lose was one’s life!’

Hervey said nothing for the moment. At length he rose in an effort to stave off the sleep he was so in need of. ‘Dom Mateo, who is your chief of staff?’

‘Ah, my chief of staff. He is a good man, an excellent man, with a most active mind, although he is
pé do castelo,
since he lost a leg at San Sebastian.’

‘May we send for him? I think we might put his active mind to good use, so that you and I might have some rest. I’ll warrant you too have slept little this past week.’

‘Hervey, I tell you I have slept not three hours in each day.’

Hervey thought it little wonder that method in his calculations had so far eluded him.

An hour later he closed the door of his bedroom and sat heavily on the ornate half-tester. Without Johnson he must unfasten his spurs and strappings for himself. It was a struggle, but he managed at length to divest himself of his canvas overalls and boots, and then he leaned back and closed his eyes.

But it would not do. There were things he must commit to his journal that very evening, since events might turn on them (and, indeed, he might have to answer for them). He rose wearily and went to the writing table, where one of Dom Mateo’s men had laid out his morocco case. He unwrapped his journal from its oilskins, took up a pen and dipped it in the inkwell.