Inferno (14 page)

Portland looked up, confused, then collected himself. ‘That
is to say, there seems no other alternative before this government. Gentlemen, I desire your views on this: that we move to seek peace terms of the French.'

‘A surrender?' blurted Canning. ‘Sir, you cannot be—'

‘Not a capitulation,' the prime minister huffed. ‘Recognition of our powerlessness in this new order, to treat for the best terms we can. As we did in Amiens in the year two.'

‘A surrender!' Canning breathed.

‘Not so, Foreign Secretary,' Portland hissed. ‘We found peace before. We do so again!'

‘My lord,' Canning ground out, ‘we're now dealing with an emperor of limitless cupidity and ambition. Let loose from the continental prison we confined him to, he's free to seize anything he fancies in this world, to—'

‘Thank you for your views, sir. Chancellor?'

Perceval looked up with a twisted smile. ‘Prime Minister, if you insist we go by the precedent of the Amiens Treaty, of a certainty in return for peace we must give up our conquests and probably our colonies into the bargain. Given that Bonaparte controls the entire continent, where are our markets? I fear this course will see us decay into a contemptible third-rate power with quite indecent haste.'

Canning burst out, ‘Enough of this craven talk! Our response is to strike a blow, hard and defiant, that shows Boney and the world that we're not beat. We've still got the navy, for God's sake!'

Portland looked imploringly at the first lord of the Admiralty. ‘Ah, it's true, we're lords of the sea. Unhappily, our Mr Bonaparte has learned the lesson of Trafalgar only too well and keeps his fleets in port. Without they come out, how is our great victory possible?'

‘Damn it all, there must be something!'

‘Secretary for War?'

Castlereagh responded instantly: ‘No one doubts that a gesture at this time is to be much applauded, but as we've heard, if the French fleet cannot be drawn, this implies we must go to them. Is anyone at this table seriously suggesting we should land our contemptible little army on the coasts of France to try conclusions with Napoleon's crack divisions?'

That brought on a heated exchange, which Portland tried in vain to control, but the implication was becoming all too plain.

His Majesty's Government had no answer to Napoleon Bonaparte's master stroke.

H
is book was not holding his attention. With a sigh he put it down and stared out of the window. The Earl Grey, Whig, consort of Sheridan and Fox, had lost his office as secretary of state for foreign affairs when the Ministry of All the Talents had fallen. In opposition, he was now forced to watch the odious and ambitious Canning make the running in his stead.

He missed the play of diplomacy and threat, the secrecy and stealth in matters that would never be revealed. Now all he could look forward to was the next visit by the shady and venal French royalist the Count d'Antraigues, no doubt to peddle some scheme or other that would cost guineas, but with dubious return to the government.

The man was half charlatan – but which half? His services in writing salacious articles about the Emperor Bonaparte for the
Courier d'Angleterre
, a propaganda newspaper clandestinely distributed on the continent, were undoubted, but his other contributions as a political analyst and alleged middle man for the passing of agents into French territory were less clear.

And why did he insist on visiting now that Grey was out of office and out of power?

His visitor arrived suspiciously early, looking more furtive than usual.

‘M'sieur le Comte,' Grey greeted him languidly.

‘Milord,' he answered, an edge of excitement to his voice. ‘I've something for you, ver' interesting!'

‘Oh?' Grey said politely. ‘And what can this be?'

‘From my man in Tilsit.'

‘Ah. You'll not be telling me that Emperor Napoleon had eggs for breakfast, will you?'

‘He get the Russian Bennigsen drunk, hears something he know you fear.'

Grey gave a small smile. ‘Very well. The usual terms, then.'

‘Bonaparte, he now setting up a maritime league against England. All of zem – Russia, Denmark, Sweden with Spain, Portugal, Dutch – all their fleets! They sail together, you cannot win!'

Grey stiffened, then went cold. At Trafalgar there had been the French and the Spanish only. What if all these nations combined under French command and sailed simultaneously from their ports? In sum, at least a hundred or more ships-of-the-line converging on the half-dozen Collingwood had off Cádiz, the eight in Plymouth …

He looked intently at Count d'Antraigues. ‘Why are you coming to me with this?'

‘Canning, he not listen to me any more after—'

‘This is too grave a matter for that. Sit down – here. Now put down on paper all you know. I'll see it gets to him immediately.'

D
anican froze: outside there were shots. Distant, then many more, closer. This city had always been a dangerous place for a royalist spy and provocateur, and in these fevered days it was even more so. The musket fire hammered into a crescendo and he mopped his brow in relief. This was only the coarse Poznań soldiery using the excuse of Napoleon's Tilsit triumph to make riot again.

In the shadows of the garret a single candle flickered as he bent to his work, the ciphering of a desperately urgent intelligence. It was from a double renegade Irishman in Paris who had stumbled on a plot so threatening it had to be in the hands of his spymaster on the coast this very night.

It was nothing less than the invasion of Ireland and subsequently Britain. Intricately contrived, its deadly progress would start on the Elbe. Marshal Bernadotte at the head of his fifty thousand would get orders that would see him strike north across the frontier, up the Danish peninsula of Jutland, then on to occupy its main island of Sjælland. There, he would demand the surrender of the Danish Navy, which
would be employed immediately in the conveying of troops on a daring voyage around Scotland to descend out of the mists on the unprotected north of Ireland.

The genius of the plan was that this was not the true objective. While the distracted British scrambled to bring their troops north to oppose them, a force consisting of all French soldiers between Brest and Bordeaux would embark with a full regiment of United Irishmen to come to the aid of a long yearned-for rising in the south.

This stab in the back would give Bonaparte what he'd always craved: a major conflict face to face with the British – on land.

The last code groups were cast. Danican carefully burned the plaintext at the candle and folded the lethal message many times into a tiny square that he hid in a shoe.

Then he crept out into the night.

T
hey came quickly, the summons to Cabinet brusque to the point of impoliteness. Portland was already there, appearing more than usually frail, with a hunted look.

‘Sit, sit,' he commanded, in a weak voice, between coughing fits. ‘There's no time to be lost. I'm unwell so I've asked Canning to speak to you.'

The foreign secretary got to his feet and leaned forward over the table, a tigerish smile in place. ‘Gentlemen,' he began silkily, ‘events have moved forward at a pace that will allow no further delay and procrastination. The meeting will not disperse until a joint plan of action has been decided. This is at the express wish of the prime minister. Is that clear?'

There were no objections and he resumed his seat, shuffling his papers into order.

‘There have come to my notice developments in the situation – intelligence that is of extreme gravity to the security of this kingdom. I shall detail them to you …'

By the time he had finished there was an appalled silence.

‘All of Europe under Bonaparte,' the home secretary murmured, shocked. ‘It doesn't bear thinking of.'

‘Not the least of it, sir. Conceive of above a hundred battleships launched at our shores. With a dozen Nelsons we could never withstand it.'

‘And the threat to Ireland, a land war,' quavered Portland. ‘In all my days, I cannot recollect—'

‘So my previous comment stands proud. That a supine submission to the will of Napoleon will not answer, only a savage thrust at his vitals as will—'

‘This we've discussed
ad nauseam
, Canning. There's nothing within our power that can go against the tyrant.'

With a look of savage triumph, Canning wheeled on Castlereagh. ‘But there is. And one calculated to solve our other problems in a bold stroke.'

‘Oh? I'd no doubt be entertained to hear it.'

‘You shall, I promise. Now, all our present troubles stem from one thing – that by subverting Russia, Boney is seeking to clap Europe behind a ring of iron that excludes us both from all trade with the continent and our vital – no, crucial – naval stores out of the Baltic. End to end, we face an unbroken and hostile shore that will ensure we must capituglate for want of essentials.

‘At the same time he will concentrate the fleets of the continent into one colossal force that even our entire navy combined is powerless to resist. The writing is on the wall – in one month, at most two, having completed his conquests and forced a peace, he will be ready to turn on us with all the power and resources of a conquered continent.

‘Gentlemen. Time has finally run out for us all. What I propose is the only sanction.'

‘We're still listening,' Castlereagh drawled, fiddling with a pencil.

Canning winced but ignored him. ‘We break the ring of iron and at the same time secure this crucial Baltic trade.' All attention now on him, he continued more quietly: ‘I have explicit intelligence that I've no reason to reject. It reveals that pressure will be put on Denmark to deny us the Baltic by closing the Sound, failing which Bernadotte on the Elbe is poised to invade and seize their fleet. I've information that suggests the Danish will conform. First Lord of the Admiralty?'

Mulgrave nodded. ‘Oh, yes. A trustworthy captain by name of Pembroke swears that he witnessed the Danish fleet in Copenhagen preparing for sea. Stores, equipment on the wharves, all signs of—'

‘Thank you. I'm as well in possession of a dispatch from our head of mission in Denmark, Benjamin Garlike. He points out with understandable unease that the fortress of Kronborg, commanding the entrance to the Sound, has been considerably reinforced with artillery. To cap it all, the Danish chargé d'affaires in London, Rist, is unable to account for any of these developments or to lay before me the true position of the kingdom of Denmark in respect of the treaties of Tilsit.

‘With the loss of the Russians to our cause it can mean only one thing. That Denmark sees its best interest in siding with Bonaparte.'