A Man of No Country Page 15

  ‘That may prove to be a step too far, sir, but I shall see what can be accomplished.’

  ‘Good man,’ enthused Nelson. ‘I will have that letter and your orders drawn up directly, and you can proceed to Naples with all despatch. I will complete my repairs here and then hasten to join you. The very best of luck, captain.’

  Chapter 9

  The Kingdom of the Two Sicilies

  ‘This all took a deal of organising, I can tell you, captain,’ grumbled Sir William Hamilton, once they were settled in his carriage. ‘I had to exert my influence at court to the upmost to obtain an interview for you at such short notice. By comparison, arranging a passage back to Genoa for that sailor you picked up was easy as kiss my hand.’

  ‘And we are going to meet with the Prime Minister himself tonight?’

  ‘Yes, it is all arranged. His name is General Sir John Acton.’ Clay looked around from the carriage window in surprise, the beautiful sunset behind Vesuvius quite forgotten.

  ‘Sir John Acton?’ he said. ‘Am I to understand that the Prime Minister is an Englishman?’

  ‘Ah, well, that would be to overstate the case,’ said the ambassador. ‘Our negotiation might be altogether easier if he were. Sir John’s father was certainly English, and he is the heir to an English title, but he was born in France, educated in Lombardy, and has spent much of his life in command of the army of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. He left Leghorn when the French invaded last year, and is now Prime Minister here in Naples.’

  ‘Does he at least speak English, Sir William?’

  ‘Tolerably well, with something of a strong accent. His Spanish is better, and his Italian best of all, of course.’

  ‘Goodness, the Mediterranean does seem to be full men of no country,’ said Clay.

  ‘I am not sure I follow you, captain.’

  ‘I had in mind a sailor on board my ship,’ he replied. ‘An Englishman who is also a Mohammedan we found on a Russian ship dressed like a Turk off the coast of Portugal.’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ said the ambassador. ‘Yes, this part of the world is full of such cases. In a way, I am another one, don’t you know? I have lived here in Naples for rather longer than I ever did in my native Scotland.’

  The carriage rattled on through the evening light. Soon the road began to rise up a hill and the pace slowed as the horses struggled along the cobbled street. Clay looked out onto a wide boulevard with well dressed pedestrians taking the evening air on the pavements. Along both sides of the road were tall walls relieved by the occasional pair of lamp lit iron gates. Between the bars, Clay had tantalising glimpses of the grand villas that were set back among their trees and gardens. At the top of the hill was an open square with a large fountain in the middle. High railings lined one side of the square. Behind them Clay could see a substantial building in white stone with bright light spilling out from its numerous windows. The carriage swung left and in through a well lit gate guarded by soldiers.

  ‘The royal palace, captain,’ explained Hamilton. ‘We shall soon be there.’ The carriage rolled on towards the building and the crunch of gravel replaced the clatter of cobbles beneath the wheels. They passed under a large arch guarded by yet more soldiers and came to a halt before an entrance. A footman in a powdered wig strode forward to open the door, while a second footman folded down the carriage’s steps. The ambassador stepped out first, followed by Clay. He found that they were now in an inner court with open sky above their heads. Doors gave into the courtyard on all sides, and at every one was a pair of armed sentries.

  ‘The palace seems to be very well protected, Sir William,’ said Clay, indicating all the guards.

  ‘King Ferdinand, like most of the royal heads of Europe, lives in fear of the spread of the revolution from France,’ whispered Hamilton. ‘With very good cause in his case. He is not loved by his subjects.’

  ‘Your Excellency,’ boomed a deep voice from the top of the steps. The men turned to see the large figure of a palace chamberlain. His plump frame bulged out of a heavily embroidered blue coat, covered in bands of silver lace that sparkled in the lamplight. One pink hand rested on the top of his silver-headed walking cane, while with the other he fluttered the air as he bowed. Hamilton returned the bow, and then both men spoke to each other in a flowing river of Italian from which the names Sir John Acton and Sir Horatio Nelson stood out like rocks to the listening Clay.

  ‘May I present Captain Alexander Clay, Visconte?’ said the ambassador, switching to English for his benefit. The chamberlain looked towards him, his glance swept over his uniform, taking in the lack of any obvious orders or ribbons, and he gave him a much lesser bow than the one he had given Sir William. He then said something further in Italian to Hamilton and favoured Clay with a slight smile.

  ‘Please to follow,’ he said, and waddled off down a marble corridor with his two guests in tow. After several turns they arrived at a pair of double doors with yet more soldiers on guard. The chamberlain rapped on the wood with his cane, then pushed open the doors. He stepped through, bowed low, and bellowed their names into the room before he moved to one side to allow them to enter. Clay followed the ambassador in and heard the doors click closed behind him.

  The room was large and square, with a high ceiling, from the centre of which a mass of candles burnt in a spreading chandelier. The light fell on walls that were of green damask and covered with gilt framed oil paintings. Most were either landscapes of Naples bay and Vesuvius, or extraordinarily crowded battles between fleets of Christian and Turkish galleys. The room was dominated at one end by an enormous desk, behind which was a man dressed in a dark blue soldier’s uniform with the heavy gold frogging of senior rank. He was a large man in his sixties with a tanned face, which contrasted with the pure white curls of his powdered wig.

  ‘Sir John, may I present to you Captain Alexander Clay of his Britannic Majesty’s Royal Navy,’ said Hamilton. Clay bowed low, and then gripped the hand that was held out to him across the desk.

  ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain Clay,’ said the Prime Minister in heavily accented but clear English. ‘Do please be seated, gentlemen. Can I offer you some refreshment?’ He rang a small bell on his desk without waiting for an answer, and two footmen came in through a side door carrying drinks. A silver tray was held next to Clay’s elbow and the servant murmured a string of names in Italian. Marsala was the only one that was familiar to him, and he accepted a glass of that.

  ‘So, gentlemen, how may I be of assistance?’ said General Acton. He settled back in his chair and made a steeple with his fingers over which he regarded them both. Clay pulled Nelson’s letter from his coat and offered it across the desk.

  ‘Here are my credentials, Prime Minister,’ he said. ‘It is a letter from Rear Admiral Nelson who commands our forces in this area.’ Acton accepted the envelope, looked briefly at the seal and placed it to one side on his desk without opening it.

  ‘I am sure it is quite satisfactory,’ he said. ‘What was the nature of the request you wanted to make on your country’s behalf?’

  ‘Admiral Nelson is in need of a harbour to base his fleet, safe from storms, where his ships can be repaired and resupplied,’ said Clay. ‘He wishes to use Naples in this manner.’

  ‘Naturally his Britannic Majesty’s Government will pay a reasonable amount for such services,’ added Hamilton.

  ‘Naturally,’ agreed Acton. ‘How large a fleet does the admiral command?’

  ‘When reinforced, he will have perhaps fourteen ships of the line plus some smaller vessels,’ said Clay. ‘Certainly less than nine thousand sailors and marines.’

  ‘Nine thousand!’ exclaimed Acton. ‘But surely you have an excellent naval base in Gibraltar? Why can your admiral not base himself there, captain?’

  ‘It has a number of disadvantages for the nature of operations that Admiral Nelson has in mind, Prime Minister. For one thing it is too far from the centre of the Mediterranean to be of value to combat the threat of
the French, and a fleet based there can be held in port by an easterly wind.’ The general waved a hand dismissively at this.

  ‘I am sure you understand such professional matters better than I, captain,’ he said. ‘And your request is an interesting one. Regrettably The Kingdom of the Two Sicilies is a neutral in this conflict you have with France. It would be quite wrong for us to provide support of this character to either side.’

  ‘You extended such facilities to the Titan on Captain Clay’s last visit to Naples, Prime Minister,’ said Hamilton.

  ‘Yes, but Sir William, as a seasoned diplomat I am sure you must understand that an offer of water and firewood for a single frigate is one thing. To extend the facilities of Naples to such a large fleet of warships as the captain has proposed is quite another. It would be seen in Paris as a most blatant provocation. Why would we agree to have our neutrality abused in such a way?’ Both men looked at Clay for an answer. He set down his glass on the table next to him and leant forward.

  ‘Sir William was telling me earlier that you were once commander-in-chief of the army of the Grand Duke of Tuscany,’ he said.

  ‘I had that honour,’ conceded Acton.

  ‘I understand that Tuscany was neutral,’ said Clay. ‘Did that stop the French army from marching in to annex the Grand Duchy the moment they wanted to? My ship was off Genoa earlier this year. It too was a neutral state. Yet it too has been conquered by France.’

  ‘As has also happened to Modena, Piedmont and the Papal states,’ added, Sir William.

  ‘The day that Paris decides to add the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies to their growing empire, what protection will your neutrality offer your King?’ asked Clay.

  ‘None at all, you are quite right, captain,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘But why would we hasten that day by letting the Royal Navy abuse our neutrality?’

  ‘Because the navy will protect you,’ said Clay. There was a long silence in the room while Acton considered this. Clay became conscious of a large case clock somewhere behind him, its regular beat was loud in the quiet of the room.

  ‘Go on, captain.’

  ‘Have you read the latest copies of Le Moniteur from Paris, Prime Minister?’ asked Clay.

  ‘We receive the papers from most of the major powers,’ replied Acton. ‘The small nations of the world need to understand what our more dangerous neighbours are about.’

  ‘Then you will be aware that an armada has been in preparation this winter in southern France, and that Naples is openly spoken of in that paper as its objective. I have come from Toulon. Those ships are now at sea, with an army onboard them. The only thing that will answer to defeat a fleet is another fleet. Do you have one?’

  ‘Only a collection of small vessels, sufficient to patrol our coasts,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘You are right. It would certainly not be able to defeat the French.’ Acton looked up at the chandelier for a moment and Clay held his breath. After a pause he returned his gaze to his visitors. ‘You are a very persuasive young man, captain,’ he said. ‘I will put your proposal before His Majesty and give you his answer in the morning.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir John,’ said Hamilton, rising to his feet. Clay remained in his chair.

  ‘Might we wait for an answer tonight, Prime Minister?’ he asked. ‘I know it is late, but as I have said the French are already at sea. Every moment is precious.’

  ‘Well, this is most irregular,’ frowned Acton. He glanced over Clay’s shoulder at the clock. ‘But the King should still be up at this hour. He is rather fond of his wine, but may yet be in a position to make a decision. Perhaps you gentlemen would wait here?’

  ‘Of course, Prime Minister,’ smiled Hamilton.

  ‘Although there was one other matter I wished to discuss,’ interjected Clay.

  ‘What a singularly demanding fellow you are, captain,’ declared Acton. ‘What is this further request?’

  ‘Admiral Nelson’s fleet is very short of smaller vessels to act as scouts for the main body. Might ships of your fleet be put at his disposal? The admiral would supply crews, and they could operate under British colours.’

  ‘No, sir, they may not,’ said Acton. ‘That would constitute a virtual declaration of war on France. I have no intention of placing such a request before the King.’

  ‘I understand, Prime Minister,’ said Clay. The general rose from his chair and made his way towards the door. Just as his hand reached for the gilt knob another thought occurred to Clay.

  ‘Of course, if your ships were to be despatched out as Neapolitan vessels, and should chance to encounter the French, they would naturally report what they had seen back to your government.’

  ‘They would,’ said Acton. ‘What is your point, sir?’

  ‘I was just imagining that perhaps such reports might be shared in a discreet way with Sir William?’ The Prime Minister considered matters for a moment.

  ‘If the King agrees to your fleet being based here, then I suppose that might be acceptable,’ he conceded.

  ‘Upon my soul, Clay, but you’re damned persistent!’ exclaimed Hamilton as they left the palace later that night. ‘You were like terrier on the scent of a rat. It ain’t the way we diplomats are meant to proceed, you know, not at all. If you are half this firm in your regular profession, I hope to God I never have to face you in a sea fight.’ Clay laughed aloud at this.

  ‘Surely it answered well enough, Sir William?’ he said. ‘The fleet has its base, and their navy will scout for us. All that we require now is some intelligence of the French.’

  ‘Perhaps I am getting too old for this,’ said the diplomat. ‘I would never have bullied Acton as you did, but I have to confess we made more progress in a single evening that I normally do in a whole year.’ He pulled out his fob watch and angled it towards the carriage lamp. ‘It is a half after midnight now, whatever that is in those damned bells you naval coves use.’

  ‘One bell in the mid watch, Sir William.’

  ‘If you say so. In any event, too late for you to return to your ship. Why not come back to my residence for a bite of supper and a glass of something? I can gladly offer you a bed for the night’

  ‘My thanks, Sir William,’ said Clay. ‘I must confess to being famished after all our exertions this evening.’

  *****

  After many years at sea, sleeping to the sounds of a ship as it creaked and worked all around him, Clay never slept very soundly when he was first ashore. The bed felt too inert, the room too vast and the walls too silent. So when the lock of his bedroom door clicked open, he was instantly awake. He sat up in bed and looked around him.

  ‘Who is there?’ he asked.

  ‘Hush!’ said the ghostly figure that slipped through the opening and slid the door closed again.

  ‘Lady Emma?’ queried Clay. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Who else would it be?’ she giggled. ‘Sir William perhaps, come to show you another of his broken pots?’

  ‘Whatever can the matter be?’ he asked, as he swung his feet out of bed and stood up. ‘Are the French in the offing?’

  ‘No, it is only little me, come in search of company,’ she said. ‘My, how very tall you are, captain. And rather fetching in a night shirt.’

  ‘Now Lady Emma,’ he said. ‘If I have been guilty of leading you on, or giving you a false impression I do apologise, but I must inform you that my affections lie elsewhere.’

  ‘It isn’t your affections I am interested in,’ she said as she advanced on him. ‘My objective is all together more carnal in nature.’

  ‘But Lady Emma,’ he exclaimed, ‘I am but newly married.’

  ‘So am I, you handsome devil,’ she purred. She placed both hands on his chest and pushed him towards the bed. ‘What of it? I don’t want to marry you, just share your bed.’

  ‘What of your husband?’ he asked, side stepping her advance.

  ‘He is very accommodating with me,’ she said. ‘We married because he had need of a hostess for his salon, a
nd I had need of a protector. He knows he can never satisfy my wants at his age, and is quite content to play the cuckold. His real passion is to have beautiful objects in his house, and I am just another one of those. And I am beautiful, aren’t I, Alex?’

  She drew open the front of her nightshirt, and allowed the thin cloth to slide off her shoulders and down her slender arms. The garment hesitated at her hips, and then dropped to the floor, leaving her long, curvaceous body white in the faint moonlight that came through the window. With one hand she reached behind her neck and tugged at her hair, which cascaded down around her shoulders. A single, curling lock lay over one breast.

  ‘Yes, you are beautiful, Lady Emma,’ he said. ‘Very beautiful. I give you joy of your liberal marriage. But I fear that I view my own nuptial vows to have been of a rather more binding character.’

  ‘Come come,’ she urged. ‘Your little wife need never know. Besides, are you quite sure that she too will be as resistant to temptation as you claim to be? How long have you been absent from her?

  ‘It has been seven months now,’ he said.

  ‘Seven months apart!’ she repeated. ‘And no real prospect of your return to her bed in the near future? Can you truly believe that she will be able to remain faithful? You men really know so little of the appetites we ladies need to have satisfied.’

  ‘I am quite certain of her, Lady Emma,’ he said. He stooped down in front of her and took hold of the discarded nightdress that still lay in a hoop about her feet. He felt her fingers slide into his hair and smelt the perfume on her skin, so close were her legs to his nose. For a moment he hesitated, still squatting at her feet as temptation swept over him in a wave. Her cool fingers against his neck and scalp sent a shiver through him, and he felt a warm glow deep in his stomach. He tried to fix the image of Lydia in his mind, but found that he struggled to remember her face. He was on the very edge of a pool and only had to let himself slide forward to enter it. Then he pulled his head free of her hand and rose to his feet, drawing the night dress up as he did so. He slipped it over her shoulders and stepped back from her.