The Twisted Sword (28 page)

On his third day in London Sir George Warleggan called by appointment to see Mr Nathan Rothschild at his offices in New Court, St Swithin's Lane. They had met twice before, the first time in Manchester in 1810 when George was counting on the prospect of an imminent peace with Napoleon and making his unwise speculations. Mr Rothschild had lived in Manchester when he first came from Germany, and he had been liquidating some of his assets while George was moving in. George did not like the man. He thought him a cold fish. And for a foreign Jew whose father had been an inconspicuous curio dealer in the ghetto in Frankfurt he was too abrasive. Only thirty-eight or so, stout, rapidly going bald and affecting no wig, speaking English with a guttural Germanic accent, he had already become a close friend and valued associate of the British Government because of enormous deals he had done for them financing the Peninsular War. George resented this. How had it come about that a foreign Jew, and such a young foreigner, had attained such a position of power and eminence in a Christian society? He should have had a fellow feeling, for he had had something of a similar history. It was true he had suffered few of the humiliations of a German Jew, such as being confined within the Jewish district by chains slung across the exits at night, but he remembered his boyhood when he had been looked down on and patronized by sections of Cornish society as the grandson of a country blacksmith and the son of an unimportant smelter. Like Rothschild he had built upon the enterprise and initiative of an ambitious father, and now there was virtually no one in the county of Cornwall with whom he could not claim to be an equal. And certainly no one would ever dare to patronize him! But this was small beer compared to Rothschild - many years his junior - and a man almost deliberately disclaiming the polish that George considered himself now to have acquired. Of course he had brothers, as George did not, settled in positions of financial strength in most of the capital cities of Europe. Perhaps he felt he could afford to remain uncouth. George had brought with him an ambitious scheme for the development of water power in the West Country and the extension of the toll roads to open up development there. He did not really mind whether Rothschild was interested enough to help finance such a scheme; it was the opening he wanted for a general discussion in which several times he was able to bring the subject round to Bonaparte and the likely outcome of the new war affecting the prospects for such a development. For a while they fenced a little, the man with the astutest financial brain of the age, and the provincial banker on whose native Celtic cunning had been grafted years of mercantile and financial experience. Then Nathan, his cold eyes heavily lidded, turned the scheme down with neither dignity nor politeness; the proposition was too regional for him, he grunted. He had early sensed that the meeting was a pretext, and, once he had seen where it was designed to lead, he gave nothing further of his own opinions away. They parted with a show of amity and assurances of respect that barely hid the lack of either. Although he carefully chalked this rejection against Rothschild, in case on any future occasion he should be able to do him a bad turn, George came away not wholly dissatisfied. He had framed his questions and rehearsed them beforehand in such a way that even disclaimers could be a sort of admission that the knowledge was there. He was now more than ever certain that Rothschild had better lines of communication with events in Brussels than the British Government, that somehow news was got to him more quickly and more reliably. After leaving, he strolled north, keeping an eye open for the pickpockets and cutpurses who abounded in the area. It was a fine sunny day and the crowds milled everywhere, with hackney coaches forcing their way through, drivers cracking whips; ballad singers competing with fish cryers, and the sellers of hot rabbit pies, fresh spring water, quack medicines and cheap penknives all ringing their bells to claim attention. Beggars crawled in the gutters, elegant ladies were being carried in their chairs, less elegant ones were sharp-eyed looking for a likely man. Dust and dirt and refuse and the occasional stink.

George turned into King William Street and called at an office where a man called Samuel Rosehill was waiting to greet him. Mr Rosehill acted as an agent for Warleggan & Willyams Bank and also for George personally. He was himself a Jew.

'Rosehill, this man you know in the Rothschild office, how far can you rely on him?'

'The few confidences he has given me have proved to be sound, sir. I can hardly say more than that.'

George grunted, and then changed it to a cough, not wanting to sound like the man he had just left.

'The market is very volatile but very low. Nervous, I'd call it. Would you know, could you follow any buying or selling pattern from what this friend of yours could tell you or by observing the actions of the people who trade for the Rothschilds?'

Rosehill scratched under his wig. 'You mean to be able to tell when the Rothschilds are buying and when they are selling? I believe one could discern a pattern, yes. But I question how much my friend could help, sir. Nathan Rothschild uses a number of agents, apart from trading direct.'

'Your friend might know who those people are.'

'He might know that.'

'You would be able to follow any trend at very short notice? Within the hour, say?'

'Oh yes. Given the finances to do it.'

'I'll see the finances are to hand.'

There was a pause. Rosehill said: 'I am not sure if I take your meaning, sir. Am I right in supposing you would wish me, as it were, to follow Rothschild's lead? Buy when he buys? Sell when he sells?'

'Yes.'

'I have to warn you, sir, that Mr Rothschild is infinitely devious in such matters. He knows there are other speculators waiting to follow his lead and deliberately adopts tactics to throw them off the track. Might I make a suggestion?'

'Of course.'

'Mr Rothschild himself frequently comes on 'Change. He always occupies the same place, just on the right as you enter from Cornhill. He will stand there for an hour or two, sometimes more. By observing the men he meets and then what they do to obey his instructions might be the best and most reliable method you could adopt.'

George gazed out at the street. Much as he would have hated to find any common cause with Demelza, he would have agreed that London after Cornwall was unbearably noisy.

'I shall stay at Flandong's another week. Send for me immediately if there is any unusual movement on 'Change which you can ascribe to the Rothschilds. If you are not certain, still send for me. I shall wait at the hotel and can be with you within the hour.'

VI

They had talked in the night. Although sleep came now and again to one or the other, they were both too alert to doze for long. They spoke of their families, their adventures in war and peace, their hopes for the future. Colquhoun Grant said he came of a family of eleven, six other brothers; his father had died young; he had himself been a soldier since he was fifteen; by a strange quirk had been taught French by Jean-Paul Marat when the sans-culotte had been a refugee in England from his own kind. He could now speak five languages and make himself understood in three more. The farthest west he had been was when he was stationed at Plymouth. Ross told him of the missions he had undertaken, to Vienna with the Earl of Pembroke in 1807, his helping to escort the Portuguese royal family to safety in Brazil, his trip behind the French lines in Portugal which had ended at Bussaco.

'Lucky you were not captured there. This time, when you were interned in Verdun, did you give your parole?'

'No.'

'Ah. I did once. I was captured in Spain, brought into France, broke my parole, lived for a time as an American in Paris before escaping to England. The excuse was that the French broke the terms of the parole by treating me as a prisoner. But I am still unhappy about it. Of course a French officer of equal rank was immediately repatriated. But I am glad you were able to escape with a clear conscience.' Grant stirred. 'The moon is nearly down. It is time we made a move.'

They resaddled their horses and rode off into the night. Grant seemed to know exactly where they were going. Twice they saw camp-fires, and once drew in to a clump of trees as a squadron of horse artillery rumbled past. They went through a more populated zone, and here they dismounted and led their horses in single file. It was a very mild night with no wind, but a few thunderly clouds hid the emergent stars. After an hour or so Grant led the way through a stream and to a derelict barn. He cupped his hands and hooted like an owl. Two figures grew out of the darkness, and they entered the barn. Inside it smelt of animals and was pitch black. Horses were stirring. One of the figures began talking rapidly to Grant, but Ross could not follow it for the man was speaking Flemish. As the conversation continued Ross's eyes grew accustomed to the extra darkness and he could see a table, a bench, a couple of chairs. He sat on one of the chairs while the fourth man sharpened a bayonet and watched him.

'Could you understand that?' Grant said.

'No.'

'French troops crossed the frontier an hour ago and are driving towards the Prussians at Charleroi. This is the move we have been waiting for. Wellington has always suspected an attack such as this, but he has also had to be prepared to counter an encircling movement to cut the British off from the sea. Unless this is a feint, and we shall know more at dawn when we get another report, this means Bonaparte will try to knock out the Prussians before turning on the English.'

'What exactly should we know at dawn?'

'Whether Bonaparte himself has gone. There has also been great activity around Mons, but that seems likely now to have been the feint. If once we can be sure that the advance on Charleroi is the main thrust, then Wellington can begin to withdraw his troops from the Lille, Conde and Valenciennes roads.' Grant rubbed his long jaw. 'He depends largely on me for this information.'

'The Duke?'

"The Duke. As Head of his Intelligence I now have the responsibility for giving him this information in time for him to act on it. I shall not go myself as I have a reliable messenger. Andre will go. But tomorrow I might need a second messenger. These other men are more useful to me here. If you were willing I could send you with a further message. I shall expect to follow about a day later.'

VII

By eleven in the morning the French Imperial Guard had driven the Prussians out of Charleroi. Napoleon sat in a chair outside the Belle Vue Inn and watched his troops marching in to occupy the town. The following afternoon the French massively defeated the Prussians at Ligny, and Marshal Blucher was unhorsed and knocked senseless as the French cuirassiers rode over him, pursuing the Germans retreating towards Wavre. The German losses were sixteen thousand men and twenty-five guns. Satisfied that he had knocked out one opponent, Napoleon turned all his forces and his attention upon the other.

I

The Duchess of Richmond was giving a great ball in Brussels, perhaps the most glittering of a glittering season, to be held on the ground floor of her large rented mansion in the rue de la Blanchisserie. Everyone of importance was to be there, but two days before, Jeremy returned the tickets he had been at some pains to get.

'Do you mind, my love?' he said. 'We have been to so many balls since we came here. I shall be away tomorrow, and fancy a quiet evening with you on Thursday. Just supper and love and sleep.'

Cuby looked at him quizzically. 'I would have liked to go but I prefer to be alone with you, if that is how you fancy it.'

'I fancy it. I may be more away during the next few weeks and would like to make the most of my favourite wife.'

'Do you think there will be a battle soon?'

'Not at all sure. The French have the deal, and we cannot see their cards.'

So on the evening of the 15th they went out alone to the little restaurant they had visited on Cuby's birthday. They walked there from their apartment. In the warm evening the people of Brussels were out in numbers. No doubt there would be a huge crowd outside the Duchess of Richmond's watching the arrivals.

There were also more soldiers about: cavalry clattering here and there, platoons of infantry marching. Most of them were going south. They ordered a pleasant meal, much on the lines of the one they had had in March; talked in a desultory way, eyes warming to each other, hands occasionally touching.

'Are you more sure than you were on Tuesday?' she asked.

'About what?'

'Bonaparte.'

'Oh yes. He crossed the frontier sometime last night or early this morning. There has already been a skirmish or two.'

'Far from here?'

'Probably about twenty miles.'

'Twenty miles!'

'Oh, don't worry; they were driven back. It was not our fellows: I believe it was the Brunswickers or the Dutch. But the French retreated. I think they are probing our positions at various points before they attempt anything serious.'

'Jeremy, I am a little terrified.'

'Oh, I pray you not to be! There is a lot of noise and smoke sometimes without too many getting serious hurt. D'you know I was training some of my lads yesterday. Me, training them! But the old land pattern musket we have in the army is a very cumbersome weapon. It makes a very loud noise and a great deal of smoke but is monstrous inaccurate. The average soldier always fires it too high because it blasts away in his ear, and he turns away his head and the ball goes winging up in the air. But if you remonstrate with him, and he holds the barrel too low, the bullet will roll out before he fires it!'

Cuby said: 'I am not altogether reassured.'

'Then drink a little more wine and tell me about yourself. Is our baby alive and kicking?'

'Just the first stirrings. You must not be too impatient, boy. It will be December before my time comes.'

'What do you wish for?'

'As to a boy or a girl? I do not altogether mind. Perhaps a boy. And you?'

'Perhaps a girl.'

They laughed.

'Christmas,' said Jeremy. 'I wonder what we shall call her -- or him. Noel? I wonder where we shall be living then?'

'Not in Brussels!'

'No. A little while ago I thought this might be a long war, like the last. But now I think it might all be resolved, smack, bang, within a month! I shall not pursue the army as a career, like my cousin. And yet, it is strange ...'

'What?'

'Geoffrey Charles, they say, was brought up very genteel, pampered as a boy. It was a great surprise when he took so much to the army. As for myself-- though the circumstances were very different -- I too was brought up soft, I did not really ever fancy to join the army, but now I am in it, I confess I find it rather more enjoyable than I ever expected!'

Tonight Cuby had put on a pale lavender silk frock gathered at the waist with a silver cord. He had asked her to wear it because he said it reminded him of what she was wearing when he had first seen her, and she had sheltered him from the gaugers. He added: 'Of course my rapid promotion will not continue after the end of the war! It is astonishing that I have come so far without once having to purchase anything and without outside influence! It is solely due to the extreme confusion that has existed since Bonaparte escaped and the dearth of sufficient officers to command the reformed companies and regiments.'

'I trust you don't deny that it might just be in the smallest degree because you are showing special talent. Come, boy; modesty is becoming until it is so extreme that it mocks itself.'

He looked her over, met her startling hazel eyes under the raven-black brows. Her lips, of which he knew the taste so well, were upturning slightly, a dark pink against the honey-coloured skin.

'Jeremy, I have never asked you. Was it because of me that you joined the army?'

His gaze shifted. 'Very hard to disentangle my feelings at that time.'

After waiting for him to say more she added: 'I think your sister blames me for it.'

'Who, Clowance? When have you seen her?'

'Something IsabellaRose let drop. But Clowance was unfriendly at Geoffrey Charles's party. Perhaps she just blames me for having made you unhappy.'

'And rightly so.' He patted her arm and then sniffed at her cheek. 'Anyway we'll change that. She has only to meet you and know you. Look at my mother.'

"Your mother is the wisest of women. And one of the kindest. The minute I set eyes on her at that party I knew we could understand each other. Clowance is more like your father; she will be harder to thaw.'

'I do not think my father will be hard at all! When you know him better you will know that too. But talking of hardness, what of your brother and your mother? Do you think we shall ever be accepted at Caerhays?'

'Of course! I shall have no hesitation. Do you know, if you can come to ignore their prideful faults, they are really quite nice people! But do you know something else? Even if the opportunity were ever to present itself I do not think I ever again wish to live at Caerhays. It stands to me for a way of life that I have totally lost since I married you. There were many good things in it, many pleasant and agreeable times, but they are so intertwined with restricted and restricting attitudes, limited and limiting views, that I want the return of none of them. It is only since December that I have been free!'

'Tied to me,' said Jeremy.

'Tied to you? Where shall we live? I think I should like it to be Cornwall.'

'Yes. In spite of Goldsworthy Gurney, I believe sufficient opportunity presents itself to satisfy me in Cornwall.'

'Steam? The horseless carriage?'

'Well, first I shall hope to earn my living at Wheal Leisure - even possibly try something fresh at Wheal Grace. I have been wondering about a small house belonging to my father, called The Gatehouse. When Dwight Enys first came to the district he lived there. Then it was left empty for a number of years, allowed to fall into disrepair. Stephen Carrington and Clowance were to live there and Stephen spent much time and some money putting it in order. Then the engagement broke, and when it was patched up they married and went to live in Penryn, so they never inhabited it. It is possible we could use it for a time.'

'I would be happy to. What is the matter?'

'Matter?' His face cleared. 'Nothing, my love. No more than a passing thought.'

She waited but he did not explain. He hardly could,because the passing thought was of storing the proceeds of the coach robbery in The Gatehouse until they moved it to the cave in Kellow's Ladder.

'And we must have a boat,' said Jeremy, with an effort.

'Do you like fishing?'

'I never have. But I like fish.'

'To eat? Or would you dislike catching them?'

'No, I am not tender-stomached like that.'

He smiled. 'I sometimes wonder if men are not more tender in this way than women. I, now, have never greatly cared for hunting. I do not wish to be sentimental about the fox - and who could be who has found his handiwork in a coop of slaughtered chickens, killed not for food but for pleasure? - but at the end of a run I cannot bring myself to enjoy the sight of him outnumbered twenty to one and torn to pieces. Yet Clowance greatly enjoys hunting, and I am sure IsabellaRose will as soon as she is permitted.'

'Clemency loves it as much as I do,' said Cuby. 'And no one more tender for animals than Clemency ever existed!'

'Since I joined the army,' Jeremy said, 'I have become very little more inured to the use of horses in battle - I have only seen three killed but that was quite enough. Indeed, a secondary reason for promoting the horseless carriage in my mind would be to relieve them of that burden. Three years even in a stagecoach, and a horse is only fit for the knacker's yard.' He sipped his wine, admiring the colour against the candlelight. 'And yet sometimes I wonder.'

'What?'

'If horseless carriages were ever to become universal we might lose the horse altogether. That would be a worse fate, for them and for us.' He took out his watch. 'Shall we go home?'

'If you wish. Is it not rather early?'

He linked her little finger. 'I think, if you agree, that it is not too early.'

II

They had been lying quietly in bed, the daylight hardly yet fled from the long June sky, when there was a knock on the door. Jeremy lit a candle, pulled on his dressing-gown, went to the door. He came back after a whispered conversation. 'It is my orderly. I must go. You may see the message.'

Cuby took the paper.

Captain Poldark's company will proceed with the utmost diligence to Braine-le-Comte where he will meet Major Cartaret who will point out to him the ground on which it is to bivouac tonight. William de Lancey, Quartermaster General

'My darling,' she said.

'Yes, my darling. I must be off. Just as well we did not go to the ball. They have an uncanny knack, these army people, of keeping ungodly hours and trying to spoil the fun.'

Cuby swallowed back the tears that suddenly, uncontrollably, bubbled up.

'Be back by Sunday,' she said lightly. 'We have that little dinner-party.'

'Of course! I'll tell old Boney. Seriously, carissima mia, you have stayed in Brussels like a good wife and I doubt if you will have the least anxiety about the French. But if - if things went badly awry, do not hesitate to go with Mr and Mrs Turner and the Creeveys to Antwerp. It is not only yourself you have to think of but little Tweedledum whom you are answerable for. If need be, carry him across the water and I'll join you later.'

'I'll take care of myself as long as you do.'

'When we were very young I used to tease Clowance and she would get angry and throw stones at me. Since then I've always been good at dodging missiles.'

He began to dress. Outside they could hear the shrill fifes and the bugle horns. In the dark of the coming night it was a melancholy sound.

'Is Sanders waiting for you?'

'Yes. And yawning, no doubt. There will be a lot of sleepy soldiers on the march.'

She watched him, eyes darker than usual, the coldest clutch of fear in her heart. Jeremy said: 'I wonder what my father is doing. He is really the soldier by temperament, not I. He'll be very irritable in his camp in Verdun if he knows there is going to be a contest for Brussels.'

Cuby began to dress.

'What are you doing?'

'Oh, it's too early to sleep. I shall see you off and then light a fire and make some coffee.'

Jeremy peered out at the moon. 'Lovely weather for campaigning.'

When at last he was ready and she was sure he had forgotten nothing he came across and took her in his arms, kissed her lightly on the forehead, the tip of her nose, the mouth. After the drowsy abandoned love of an hour ago it was airy, innocent, unemotional.

'Goodbye, Cuby.'

'Goodbye, boy. Come back soon.'

'I know. In time for that dinner-party. I'll tell them to hasten with their skirmish.'

Ill

Andre did not come with the dawn, nor until the sun was blazing from a hot sultry sky, a tall ragged man who reminded Ross of the carter who had given him a lift when the diligence broke down on the way back from Auxerre. He and Colquhoun Grant talked for nearly half an hour; Grant went to the table and wrote out the message the Belgian was to take. Only then he said to Ross: 'There is no longer likely to be a serious threat to
Mons.
Bonaparte has thrust his armies into the Charleroi gap and is rolling back the Prussians to begin. There may be time for Wellington to regroup his troops: if this message gets through by late tonight he should have twenty-four hours. Pierre is leaving right away ventre a terrefor Brussels.'

'And you?' said Ross.

'I shall ride to Namur, where I have two royalist friends. They have a direct contact with one of Napoleon's generals. What information I bring back I will ask you to carry to Wellington's headquarters - wherever they may be by then. It will be a dangerous mission but that is what you tell me you wish to do.'

'You ride as far as Namur in daylight?'

'Three hours each way. The French army will have other matters on its hands. But if I should be captured you will know from my non-return. Then fend for yourself. Marcel or Julius will be somewhere at hand. There'll be food for you to eat and some to carry with you. You will have a fair horse before dark.'

'And when can I be sure you will not turn up?'

'Give me till the moon sets.'

'I do not fancy such a long inactivity,' Ross said. 'Is there nothing I can do here, or in the vicinity?'

'How good is your French? Heavily accented, isn't it? You would be of much greater service by accepting the inactivity. Lie down. Take a sleep, man. There will be plenty of activity for you later on.'

IV

It was a hot sultry day and time passed slowly. Marcel and Julius soon left and Ross was alone with his pony. For the most part he stayed in the barn. The roof anyway was part in ruin, and the sun fell in strips across a floor well grown with weeds relishing the light. His pony cropped in a corner. Twice when he pushed the door ajar he thought he could hear distant cannon-fire. He wondered if Demelza were still in London. He had received one letter only from her; then she had been staying in his old rooms and intending to remain there a few weeks. By now she would surely be safely home in Cornwall, together with the stout-hearted Mrs Kemp, the precocious Bella and the imperturbable Harry. Jeremy was another matter. He must be involved in this battle which was about to take place. He had been in the army twelve months but had not seen any serious fighting. As a relatively untried ensign he might well be among the reserves. The wonderful veteran army of the Peninsula would bear the brunt.