Victory of Eagles (36 page)

“Are you—” Wellesley cut himself off, and in a flat tone said, “While Bonaparte is in England, we can

end this with a single victory—not only the invasion, but the war, this whole ten years and more of

conflict. The last we want is to see him go; the only damned thing to be thankful for is he has put himself

in our reach. In a month we will have fifty thousand men here; at Edinburgh another sixty, and a hundred

and fifty fighting beasts, on our own ground; in a month—”

“Half the Grande Armée is sitting on the coast of France waiting their turn to come over for a share,”

Eldon said. “In a month, Bonaparte will have two hundred thousand men, or more.”

“No, he shan’t.” The door banged, and Jane Roland came in, stripping off her bloody gauntlets: more

blood streaked her face and hair, and stained her coat. “What?” she said to their startled questions, and

looked at herself in the glass on the wall. “Oh, I look a fright. No, it isn’t any of mine, I suppose it is that

poor damned Frenchman’s: I broke a sword on the fellow.”

She took the glass of brandy anxiously offered her anyway, and drank it off straight. “Thank you, sir,”

she said, setting it down, “that puts life in one’s breast. I beg your pardon, gentlemen, for coming in my

dirt: I am fresh from the coast. He tried another landing at Folkestone: but he did not have as much luck

as he would have liked, I imagine. We have settled his trick of harpooning: our smiths have give us some

sharp wire, and by twos the courier-captains can cut up the ropes in a trice. Here are dispatches,” she

added, as Frette, trotting in behind her, laid packets down on the table in front of Mr. Perceval, “from

Admiral Collingwood: taken six, sunk four, burnt two, of ships-of-the-line; and not a thousand men

landed of sixty.”

The noise her intelligence produced was extraordinary both in volume and in the change of tone, out of

proportion perhaps to a victory that only left them no worse off, than they had been before. But even a

small taste was sweet to those who had been so long deprived; Eldon was silenced, and Wellesley

sprang up to shake her hand, before he had quite realized what he did.

“So he cannot bring over any more—how many men does he have, now?” Perceval said, urgently.

“He can still bring them by air, at night,” Jane put in. “We can patrol, and so can the Navy, but we won’t

catch every Fleur-de-Nuit that slips over the Channel: they can carry as many as two hundred at a shot.”

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“He may send ten of them every night for me,” Wellesley said. “He cannot make up more than our

forces, before we are ready to meet him. Sir—gentlemen,” he said, turning to sweep his eye over all the

table, “no war was won at the conference table, but many have there been lost. Let me not see this a

room of cowards, but of Britons. Give me your confidence and a hundred thousand men, and I do not

fear Bonaparte. Will you?”

There was a pause; several men looked at Dalrymple. “Perhaps, a joint command—” one man started.

“No,” Wellesley said, cutting him off short. “If you have not faith in me, choose another man.”

The silence fell again, a moment’s hesitation, but Wellesley had chosen his moment well; the glow of

victory, of success, yet lingered, and carried the day: Perceval stood and put his hands flat on the table.

“So be it. Lord Bathurst, you will inform our guests the parley is at an end. General Wellesley, you have

the command, and may God be with you.”

Not a minute later, Wellesley was halfway down the corridor outside, saying, “A wretched waste of time

and spirit, but at least it is over, and no irreparable harm done. Roland, I need a hundred dragons, for

transport—”

“I can’t hand you off a hundred beasts when I have five hundred miles of coastline to watch,” Jane said,

matching his stride.

“I have another thirty thousand men to get here, and forty to Edinburgh,” Wellesley snapped.

“Tell me where the men are to be found and where you want them landed, and I will contrive,” she said,

“with what dragons are on patrol, in flying distance.”

“Well enough.” He gave her a curt nod. “Rowley, get her the list of garrisons,” he said, over his

shoulder. “Tell me, what sort of supply do you imagine Bonaparte needs?”

“For the beasts? A hundred bullocks a day,” Jane said. “More if he is heavy on fighting-weight beasts,

and they are working for their supper. He is managing it, though: has foragers out, of course; and we

have fewer dragons south of the mountains to eat up the supply.”

He nodded. “Very good. I must get to Edinburgh, and get the rest of this army into order—”

“Wellesley,” Jane said, “before you go, you will pardon me for saying: I can put the men wherever you

need them; but I can’t make Bonaparte come and meet you there. He is pretty well dug in at London,

now, and come spring we are going to begin to have some trouble with supply ourselves. Scotland’s

herds can’t support this number of dragons forever: we will be eating into the breeding stock.”

He shot her a hard look. “You will oblige me,” he said, “by not mentioning that particular difficulty in

front of their Lordships. Damn, but I miss Castlereagh!”

She snorted. “I don’t need a lecture on managing politicos who don’t know a damned thing about my

business.”

“No, I imagine not,” Wellesley said, grudgingly. “Well, bring me the army, and let me worry how to get

the Corsican out of London.”

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Returning to the courtyard, Laurence found Temeraire in glad convocation with Maximus and Lily, also

freshly returned from the coast: the two had unceremoniously displaced several disgruntled Yellow

Reapers and a much-offended Ballista to claim places on the warm stones beside him.

“Yes, the egg is hatched,” Lily was saying, “but it is not much use to anyone: only lies there and squalls

all day, and I do not like the way it smells, not,” she added loyally, “that any of that is Catherine’s fault: I

am sure that awful sailor is to blame. I ought never have let him marry her, and now she cannot even

make him divorce her.”

Harcourt was standing by them, with Berkley, but Laurence did not hesitate to approach, even inwardly:

too weary and too soiled to dread anymore yet another awkward meeting. Catherine did not say

anything at all, however, but gave him a handshake which he thought she would have liked to make

heartier than her strength could presently manage. She looked fragile as an eggshell and nearly as white,

so her pale red hair stood luridly against her skin, and the blued rings beneath her eyes. She had still the

little thickness at the middle she had gained in her pregnancy, but her arms were thin of muscle and of

strength: she ought to have been resting.

She caught his eye, and said sharply, “Pray let me not hear lectures; Lily cannot be spared at a time like

this. He tried to land another sixty thousand men, did you hear?”

“I did, and I congratulate you on the victory,” Laurence said: he did not have a right to speak, in any

case, as Riley might. “And on your son,” he added.

“Oh; yes,” she said, despondently. “Thank you.”

The French embassy was leaving: a small sheltering tent in domed shape was put up on the Papillon

Noir’s back, and Talleyrand was handed into it, clambering cautiously and slowly into his place; but

Murat went up like an aviator to the life born, and latched himself on at the neck. The Papillon made a

great show of shaking out his dappled iridescent wings and showing off a small but flashy medallion on his

breast to the other dragons, as he was boarded, and he called cheerfully, “Good-bye! I hope you come

and visit me, any time you like, in London or in Paris,” before he leapt aloft.

Arkady made a rude noise, after him, and nosed his own dinner-plate medal, which Jane had awarded

him a year ago by way of incentive for patrolling. “Yes, and good riddance,” Temeraire said, looking

after the vanishing French dragon with a cold eye. “I am sure it is all a hum, and he hasn’t any rubies or

gold chains at all.”

Laurence was as glad to see them gone, but they left behind a long shadow, which would not be lifted

save by a victory that seemed at the moment distant and unlikely. The terms Bonaparte had offered now

would be generous by comparison, if he managed to maintain his occupation until the spring. One by one

the outposts throughout England would be starved out, or pounded into surrender; then he would turn the

besieging troops upon the port cities, and begin to cut off supply for the Navy. Meanwhile his dragons

would be eating up British cattle, while their own beasts began to go hungry, and the melting snows

would open up all the mountain passes to easy avenue of attack by his infantry. He had only to stay easy,

enjoying the comforts of London, and wait.

“We are going out again on patrol to-night, along the North Sea,” Maximus said to Temeraire. “Are you

with us, this next run?”

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“Patrolling,” Temeraire said, with a sigh, “but yes, of course we shall go together; shall we not,

Laurence? And at least,” he added, “it is better than ferrying.”

“You may have other duties, to your regiment,” Laurence said.

It was no easy matter to organize the whole company of unharnessed dragons into patrols. Temeraire

insisted the Yellow Reapers should be allowed to all go together, as they seemed to prefer, even though

by the general rule they would have been used for balance in mixed groups; and Arkady’s ferals, on the

other hand, he divided up among many bands, even though they could not speak a word to the other

dragons. “Yes, but they do not need to speak out loud to understand enough for patrols,” Temeraire

said, “and otherwise they
will
fly off adventuring, especially,” he added darkly, “if Iskierka is let

anywhere near them.”

“She is a good deal improved, though,” Granby said to Laurence and Tharkay, over dinner snatched

one night, while they were all encamped near Newcastle. A little way back from the fire, Temeraire and

Iskierka were squabbling at volume, and Arkady throwing in his occasional piece. “She makes as much

noise,” Granby added hurriedly, “but she has turned perfectly obliging: has flown all the patrols as neat as

a pattern-card, and no haring off after prizes at all, or a word of complaint; for as much, I would gladly

be captured five times over.”

Laurence looked down at the fire; he yet felt too strongly, what Granby’s capture had cost: he had heard

nothing of Edith, though he had stooped so far as to beg Jane to make inquiry of the intelligence-officers.

Spy reports came in by the dozens each day from London, but the arrest—even the execution—of a

solitary British gentlewoman might be too insignificant to mention.

Tharkay said to Granby, “I would not for the world diminish your satisfaction, but
perfectly obliging

invites caution: a smaller improvement might be more secure. No creature in the habit of freedom is easily

persuaded to adopt discipline,” he added, giving a gobbet of meat to the kestrel, who observed their

roasting rabbit with a cocked and eager eye.

“I am, too, disciplined,” Iskierka said, overhearing. “I will not run off at all; and I am very happy to carry

more,” meaning cattle: they were each carrying half-a-load of supply along with their crew, Jane’s

compromise between transport and patrol. Half-a-load was enough for a party of even middle-weight

dragons to move a full company with their officers, or to bring in supply for themselves, without weighting

the dragons too much to fight; their own party was presently coming up along the North Sea coast, and

gathering what supply they could find. Iskierka was already responsible for the transport of a dozen large

black hogs, presently penned up outside the camp and squealing occasionally through their drunken haze;

they had been dosed with the easiest drug to supply, strong liquor, and smelled powerfully of spirits.

“If you ask me, it is only an act,” Temeraire said, disdainfully, “because you are trying to show Granby

he ought not leave you. You know perfectly well we haven’t any more.”

Deer could not be successfully transported, panicking themselves to death before they could even be

drugged, and fish did not keep; they were only good for feeding the dragons on the wing. Already cattle

had begun to grow scarce, along the coast, and the more time they spent inland searching, the more risk

of leaving an opening in their patrol where a substantial number of soldiers could be brought over:

Bonaparte had dragons loaded down with men flying along the Channel and the coast, daily, waiting for

just such a chance.

Tharkay said, “We will find more tomorrow,” a puzzling degree of confidence; but the next evening he

took Arkady into the lead and flew directly to an estate with several handsome dairy farms, which

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yielded two dozen bullocks; he watched the stupefied animals loaded onto the dragons with an odd, wry

expression, which made Laurence wish all the more to ask how he had known; and equally made such an

inquiry impossible. They were just over the border into Scotland: Laurence knew Tharkay had been

embroiled in a law-suit here, although none of the details, and if Tharkay did not choose to volunteer

them, respect dictated they could not be pursued.

The cattle completed their tally, but only just, and they found nothing more the rest of the way on their