Mrs Sparrow received his news with a sad expression. ‘Well, I suppose a soldier must do his duty.’

‘Yes.’ Arthur nodded. ‘There is always duty, and will be until the war is ended for good.’

‘And then?’

‘Then I can enjoy the fruits of peace with a full heart, lay down my duties and resume my life.’ Arthur cleared his throat. ‘I wondered if you had heard anything from Kitty?’

Mrs Sparrow nodded. ‘She told me she had a letter from you. She said it was a bit stiff and stilted, but all the same it has raised her spirits, although it has given her no little cause for concern.’

‘Concern?’ Arthur frowned. ‘Why?’

‘Because she is unsure how to respond to it. Suffice to say that you have reawoken her old affection for you. The difficulty is that she is nervous that the Kitty you express feelings towards is no more than a memory, a person gone from your life these ten years.’

‘Ten years,’Arthur mused,‘in which she has always been in my heart.’

‘And you in hers.’

‘Not always, it would seem,’ Arthur replied sharply, still feeling a cold jealous rage at Galbraith Lowry Cole for all the time he had shared with Kitty while Arthur was in India. Then, with a deep sigh, he fought the unworthy impulse.

‘What did you expect,Arthur? Besides, it could be worse.What if she had found someone whom Tom Pakenham would have allowed her to marry? What then?’

‘Then . . . I think I would rather have died,’Arthur replied with quiet sincerity. ‘But at least she is uncommitted for the present.’

Mrs Sparrow shook her head.‘She is committed rightly enough, but only to you, Arthur. The poor girl is in an agony of indecision. She wants to see you, but fears it too much at the same time.’

‘Then I must put an end to her indecision,’ Arthur resolved. ‘Once and for all.’

‘How?’

‘I will write to her again. This time I shall make her an offer. I shall honour the letter I left her with ten years ago. If you speak accurately of her feelings, then surely she will accept?’ Arthur looked at Mrs Sparrow almost pleadingly, and she smiled.

‘Surely!’

For the rest of November Arthur and his men waited to board their ships, but the winter gales were against them and the British army could only stand helpless as their allies marched against Napoleon on the continent. Rumours and fragments of news seeped across the Channel, some claiming another French victory, others that the Russians had joined their Austrian allies and were closing the trap on Bonaparte.

At the end of November the wind changed at last and the British soldiers embarked on their transport for the rough crossing of the North Sea.The convoys of troopships and their Royal Navy escorts beat their way over the slate-grey water towards the coastline of northern Europe, where they entered the River Weser. There they anchored and prepared to land, making ready to advance towards the Danube.

As light faded on the afternoon of their arrival, Arthur stood on the deck of a frigate, wrapped in his coat as he surveyed the bleak winter landscape on either bank. A light shower of snow had fallen earlier and coated the roofs of the nearest hamlet in a pale sheen.The sky was dark and grey and threatened yet more snow.

Behind Arthur the lieutenant of the watch was pacing up and down as his sailors completed the furling of the sails and descended below decks for their evening meal. Arthur took one last glance at the sky and was about to head back to his cabin when there was a shout from aloft.

‘Deck there! Boat approaching!’

Arthur paused, and then turned to scan the river behind him in the gathering gloom.

Sure enough, a ship’s gig had rounded the nearest bend and was making straight for the frigate, which was anchored at the head of the line of transports.An army officer was seated in the stern and as the boat drew up to the side of the frigate he jumped up, and nearly tumbled over the side in his lubberly eagerness to clamber up on to the deck. A moment later, with the helping hands of the sailors in the gig, the officer, a young major on the headquarters staff, scrambled on to the deck and addressed the nearest midshipman.

‘You! Where can I find Major-General Wellesley?’

Arthur strode towards him. ‘Here!’

The officer, panting, hurried up to Arthur and fumbled inside the breast of his coat for a despatch. ‘From the flagship, sir.We got the news just over an hour ago.’

‘What news?’

‘There’s been a great battle, sir.’ The man’s eyes were wide with excitement. ‘Not far from Vienna. At a place called Austerlitz.’

00

Chapter 13

Napoleon

As soon as the arrangements had been made for the paroling of some of the prisoners captured at Ulm and sending the rest into holding camps in Bavaria and France, the Grand Army wheeled about and marched against the Russian army led by Kutusov. For the remainder of October, and into the early days of November the soldiers trudged towards Vienna, driving the enemy before them.The weather continued to worsen as autumn began to give way to winter.

On some days, there were bright spells when brilliant white puffy clouds billowed serenely across a clear sky.Then there were times when thick banks of rain and mist blotted out the sun and icy squalls lashed down, soaking the men through to the skin and turning the routes along which they marched into glutinous slippery bogs. At night the temperature dropped swiftly and the men huddled around their campfires, trying to dry their clothes and get some warmth into their shivering frames as they supped on whatever food they had managed to forage during the afternoon. The lucky ones, mostly veterans who had long since learned the knack of finding good shelter, slept under cover, while the rest made themselves as comfortable as they could in the open. There were frequent frosts in the morning when the men woke to find their belongings covered in a gleaming patina of tiny ice crystals that gleamed pale blue in the hour before dawn. After a quick meal the men formed up, stamping their feet to keep warm, and then, when the order was given, they advanced towards the enemy again.

As his carriage lurched forward with the long train of headquarters wagons and mounted staff, Napoleon glanced through the streaked glass of the window and muttered to Berthier, ‘This mud may yet undo us.’

Berthier had been dozing, but he blinked his eyes open and looked round. ‘Sorry, sire, what did you say?’

‘This mud is slowing our advance down too much.’