The King honoured Septimus with a few words, fed to him by a whispering flunkey stood at his shoulder; all went well apart from the admonition to 'speak up' addressed behind him.
Septimus gathered once more that he was a loyal and well-loved servant of his King; he bowed his thanks and moved on at the signal.
Canning was present again and found a few seconds for him, aware that he was on this occasion talking with a man of temporary eminence, hence somewhat less dismissive in his patronage.
"I believe that one might express admiration of your recent achievements, Sir Septimus. Would you make any specific recommendation for our troops as a result, sir?"
"Certainly, Mr Canning. Thick woollen Long Johns as a winter issue, sir!"
Canning was taken aback for a moment, then his sense of humour, always too strong for his own good, was tickled.
"Perhaps one might engrave that upon General Moore's monument, sir - his lasting legacy to the British Army!"
Septimus managed to smile - he had not been joking.
"I must think of an apt rhyme, Sir Septimus."
Canning often wrote short, and occasionally witty, verses to his colleagues; it was one of the reasons that he was much disliked.
Septimus retired into the body of the room, hoping for obscurity. He spotted a pair of peacocking cavalry generals, placed himself near them in the certainty that they would not recognise him and expecting that normal human beings would keep well clear. He was almost right, very few came near him, the exception being a Colonel Alten of the King's German Legion who wished very much to exchange compliments with him.
"Colonel Sir Septimus Pearce, I believe, sir? May I express my respects sir, to you and your battalion? I am informed that you both fought at the side of our people, and fed them as well at times during the retreat. It can be very difficult for cavalry to locate a hot meal in the field, sir, and it is much appreciated when one is suddenly provided!"
"Thank you, Colonel. A field dinner was very small return for the services of your people, sir. Professional and bold and very well in hand, sir - your troopers are the very model of all that a horse soldier should be!"
They bowed, pleased with each other.
The King retired, was led from the room, announcing in the over-loud voice of the deaf that he really needed a pee. His loyal subjects heard nothing and the room emptied politely. Septimus wandered out and made his way to his hotel to remove his antiquated Court finery and then, more comfortably uniformed, took a cab to Ludgate Hill. He had lost two of his pistols during the retreat and wanted to replace them.
"Heavy pistols, Mr Nock. I am told that you are the man to come to for military hand guns and I need a pair to make up for those recently lost in the field."
"I can supply pistols from my stock, sir, or make them to your hand."
"Stock will do, Mr Nock. I am a competent shot with a pistol but am content to do what I can at a range of a very few feet."
"'Heavy', you say, Colonel?"
"I came across four French-made handguns while I was in the Sugar Islands, Mr Nock. A ten, or thereabouts, and I have become used to them."
"Heavy indeed, sir."
Nock called to a boy, sent him for a particular pair of pistols.
"To my own design, sir - I am sorry, Colonel, I did not catch your name?"
Septimus bowed and introduced himself.
"Ah! I am honoured to see you here, Sir Septimus!"
That was probably good for ten per cent off the price, Septimus thought.
Nock took the pistols from the apprentice, tendered them butt first to Septimus; he nodded approval as Septimus flicked the covers of the priming pans, checking there was no load.
"The boy will have rammed the barrels, Sir Septimus, to be sure they are empty, but it is always as well to be doubly sure, sir!"
"Well balanced handguns, Mr Nock! What is this, nine inches on the barrel?"
"That is my favoured length, Sir Septimus - no wasted, unburned powder with these, sir. Would you wish to try them, sir?"
They kicked, as a heavy pistol must, but Septimus was a large man with big hands - they provided no problem.
"Have you heard of the Volley Gun, sir? It is an invention of my original mentor and has much in its favour."
"Seven barrels, discharging simultaneously, Mr Nock? Should I ever be sent against an enemy equipped with the elephant, be sure I shall come knocking at your door, sir. But not otherwise."
Nock shook his head sadly - the invention was ahead of its time, he feared, and the conservatism of the military was not to be overcome.
Septimus sadly agreed - however much he might like to equip his Grenadier Company, he was sure, he said, that there would be great resistance to the innovation.
Man of Conflict Series
BOOK THREE
Chapter Ten
The slow journey back to Winchester provided thinking time, but however much he pondered, Septimus could not discover that anything had changed.
He now had experience of failure under his belt, and that was useful too. He had learned a great deal from Moore's disastrous Spanish campaign, quite possibly more than he would have gained from taking part in a successful battle or two. He knew now precisely how to equip himself and his battalion for any winter campaign and he had a number of ideas for marching his men in adverse conditions. Feeding them as well, that could be improved upon; there must be more hot food, quickly cooked up, three and four times a day. The Navy had something called 'portable soup', he had heard - that might be worth investigating.
For his own future - the Army still made sense - he had made a title from his career and there was this 'Grant-in-Aid', whatever that might be. There might yet be a few hundreds in Prize Money, and always the offchance of a bit of loot. Mostly, though, it was a question of honour and glory. He had two children - his face clouded as he remembered the third, his first-born, always in the back of his mind - and Baby Jack and Sarah would grow to successful marriages on the strength of his name. That demanded that he remain on call as a soldier - he must not disappear onto half-pay.
There had been discussion of another expedition to Spain. The Hampshires would not join that - it would be a year at least before they could reach full strength again. But, if the first twelve months were successful, then there was every chance of going out as reinforcements. He must make sure that they remained known at Horse Guards.
The summer was spent in unbroken work - it was amazing how much there was to do.
The new ensigns demanded much of his attention - the boys came every week, and many of them left very rapidly. They seemed, almost a majority of them, to object to the whole idea of working at their trade and to drilling as a squad, but enough were willing and then found themselves attached to a company with very specific duties to perform.
Three lieutenants bought commissions in the battalion and they fitted in instantly, because they had joined in the expectation that so famous a regiment would soon be called to war. They had no notion of a social existence, of joining the Army as a way of passing the time for a few years.
Major Perceval gave thought to sending in his papers, but after consulting with his own father and his wife's decided to remain in the Army, probably for life.
"Thing is sir, that it ain't a small thing, being in a regiment like ours. ‘Major in the Hampshires', you know, that's something! When I was in Town last month, sir, on me little furlough, I met more than one of the fellows I was with in the East Norfolks, and they all said the same, 'was you at Corunna, old chap?' Told 'em I was, goes without saying, and you know what, sir? Every last one of 'em says 'lucky man!' Envious, they was. Told 'em, I did, nothing lucky about almost freezing me whatsits off in the snow, but they just laughed and shook their heads at me. Then they all asked about you, was it right the story that you gave your uniform jackets to the drummer boys. Gone the rounds that has, even heard it at St George's Chapel, in the sermon, when I took my lady there to see the lions at prayer.
My father had heard it too, said it was a damned good tale, was amazed when I said it was true. So, there it is, sir. Here I am, back and ready to go off to war again! My lady is happy, too - she's in the family way as you know. Like another one, a girl in the house, that would be something!"
Septimus found that he was not at all displeased at the prospect of having Perceval tagging along at his side - the Army demanded little brain of its officers and Septimus could make his head work for the pair of them. The men liked Perceval, and that was a good thing; they laughed at Major Taft, though not too unkindly, but they had a real affection for Perceval.
Recruitment to the ranks was less easy. The Militia had come up with more than three hundred men at first asking; a lot of young boys from the villages had discovered that life in a Militia barracks was in many ways softer than in a tied farm-labourers cottage. As a Regular soldier they would have very little money, but they saw precious few pennies back at home; what was important was that they would eat morning and evening, every day, and they saw three times as much meat, at least, as ever they did in a cottage. Add to that, the work was simple to learn and demanded little of them. Marching was a nuisance, but compare it to walking behind a plough in wet fields and it became no great hardship; drill was silly, but it could be learned quickly and then it became no more than repetition; firing a musket was good sport.
The Militia made good soldiers and quickly, but they still left the battalion nearly three hundred men short.
A few boys came in from the villages as volunteers, as they always had, and a trickle arrived from the prisoner-of-war camps set up around the country. Bonaparte had conscripted from all of the countries and territories he had invaded and some few of these men when captured were happy to change sides; they were already trained soldiers and made useful recruits, even more so when they learned English. Septimus was a little surprised when two black men from the Sugar Islands appeared in the ranks of the incomers, but if they could fight for Bonaparte, they could do the same for him.
He refused gaol-delivery men, sent them back still in their manacles.
The only source remaining was Ireland. He made enquiry and discovered where the harvest had been poor the previous year and sent a request to the authorities in Dublin that they might see if they could find him a hundred or two of hungry young men from those areas.
The first shipload of skinny recruits arrived within the month. Septimus inspected them, their bellies cleaving to their backbones, and rejoiced - they were just what he wanted. A week of rest in a warm barracks, doing nothing other than feed their faces and learn to wear their new uniforms, and he had a company of enthusiasts who were determined never to be thrown out, to be pushed back to the place of starvation.
The Grant-in-Aid passed the House of Commons without question, one of the large number of financial measures passing through the wartime Parliament. A special messenger delivered the news to Septimus together with a Warrant for Payment.
"Good Lord, my lady! Four thousand pounds! A year's income in a lump - and no Income Tax to pay on it!"
Marianne, smilingly pregnant, joined him in contemplation of the Warrant.
"Old Higby, the farmer, is thinking perhaps to sell his land, or so I am told by the servants, my love. Our Jenny in the kitchen at Micheldever is sister to his young shepherd and says her brother is worried for not knowing what is to become of him and his wife and child when the land is sold and his job is gone."
"He has the acres on the hillside above the orchard, does he not. Eight hundred of them, and sheepwalk not fetching three pounds the while..."
They went to talk to Brother George.
# # #
Thank you for reading Book Three of the “Man of Conflict Series.” Book Four’s projected release date is early to mid, 2016. In the meantime, please take look at my other novels listed on the following pages.
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Thanks once again, Andrew
By the Same Author
A Poor Man at the Gate Series: Book One: The Privateersman. Escaping the hangman’s noose in England, commoner Tom Andrews finds himself aboard a privateering ship before fleeing to New York at the time of the Revolutionary War. It is a place where opportunities abound for the unscrupulous. Hastily forced to return to England, he ruthlessly chases riches in the early industrial boom. But will wealth buy him love and social respectability?
Kindle links to the whole series:
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http://tinyurl.com/A-Poor-Man
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http://tinyurl.com/A-Poor-Man-UK
The Duty and Destiny Series: Published in 2014, these superbly-crafted novel length sea/land stories are set in the period of the French Revolutionary War (1793 – 1802). The series follows the naval career and love-life of Frederick Harris, the second son of a middling Hampshire landowner, a brave but somewhat reluctant mariner.
Please note: This series is currently available to Kindle Unlimited subscribers.
Kindle links to the whole series:
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http://tinyurl.com/Duty-and-Destiny-Series
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http://tinyurl.com/Duty-and-Destiny-Series-UK
A Victorian Gent: Naïve Dick Burke is hoodwinked into marrying a man-hungry aristocrat’s daughter who just seven months later produces a son! It’s the start of a long humiliation that sees Dick flee to America as the Civil War looms. Siding with the Union, the bloody conflict could be the making or the breaking of him, as could his alliance with Elizabeth, an attractive and feisty American businesswoman.
Universal Kindle Link: http://getbook.at/Victorian
In the early 1900s gutter rat, Ned Hawkins aims to rise from the grinding poverty of an English slum, but is forced to flee the country and ends up in Papua. It is a dangerous place where cannibalism and cannibals are never far away. Despite this menacing backdrop, he prospers and almost by accident, finds love. However, there are ominous stirrings in the land that bode ill for the future
Universal Kindle Link: http://getbook.at/Cannibal-One
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