Beneath the Aurora Read Online Free PDF Page A

well-thumbed card index and Templeton’s thin fingers manipulated the contents with practised ease. After a moment he drew out a small, white rectangle covered with his own meticulous script. Holding it up to the candles he read aloud: ‘Joachim Murat, born Lot 1767, trooper 1787, commissioned 1792, Italy, Egypt, assisted Bonaparte in his
coup d’état
, commanded Consular Guard, fought at Marengo and in operations against King Ferdinand of the Two Sicilies . . .’
    â€˜Whom he has now despoiled of half his kingdom,’ put in Drinkwater, ‘and not in the manner of a fairy tale.’
    â€˜No, indeed,’ Templeton coughed and resumed the card’s details. ‘Marshal of France 1804, occupied Vienna 1805, Grand Duke of Berg and Cleves 1808, Jena, Eylau, Madrid, King of Naples 1808. Commanded cavalry of Grande Armée in Russia, succeeded Bonaparte as C-in-C. Married to Caroline Bonaparte . . .’ Templeton paused, continuing to read in silence for a moment. Then he looked up, smiling.
    â€˜In addition to the communication opened with Coffin and Lord William, we have several references to him from captains of men-of-war off the Calabrian coast.’
    Drinkwater knew that the card index, with its potted biographies, was but an index to the volumes of guard books, and the references to which Templeton referred were intelligence reports concerning Marshal Murat, husband of Caroline Bonaparte and puppet King of Naples.
    â€˜I think we have an emissary of the Emperor’s brother-in-law on our hands, sir.’
    â€˜Then it is a
coup de main
, is it not, Templeton?’ Drinkwater jested, but his clerk wanted none of the pun. ‘The question is, does he act on his own or Bonaparte’s behalf?’
    â€˜Captain Drinkwater,’ Templeton said in an urgent whisper as if he feared the very walls would betray him, ‘if Mr Croker had received that letter he would pass it to the Foreign Secretary.’
    â€˜What letter?’ asked Drinkwater, letting the missive go. It fluttered from his hand, slid sideways into the draught drawn into the chimney, hovered a moment above the glowing coals, then began to sink, shrivelling, charring and then touching down in a little upsurge of yellow flame before it turned to black ash, with a curl of grey smoke, and subsided among the clinkers in the grate. Drinkwater looked up, expecting outrage at this high-handed action, but was disappointed to see Templeton’s face bore a look of such inscrutability that it crossed Drinkwater’s mind that the clerk was pleased.
    â€˜I shall go to Harwich, Mr Templeton.’
    â€˜Tonight, sir?’
    â€˜Of course. Be so kind as to pass word for a chaise and let Williams know my portmanteau is to be made ready . . .’
    â€˜At once, at once . . .’
    Templeton scuttled from the room and Drinkwater had the impression that he was actually running along the corridor outside. ‘A rum fellow,’ Drinkwater muttered, dismissively.
    He rose from his chair, poured himself another glass of wine and took it to the window. He opened the shutters again. The moon had vanished and the night was black. Rain still drove on the panes, and the gusting wind rattled the sash incessantly.
    â€˜What a deuced dreadful night to go a-travelling,’ he muttered to himself, but the window reflected a lop-sided grin above the rim of the wine glass.
    * See
The Flying Squadron
.
    * See
Baltic Mission
.

CHAPTER 2
September 1813

A Secret from the South
    Lieutenant Sparkman dozed over the mulled wine, one booted leg stretched out on the wooden settle. Curled at his feet lay a brindled mongrel cur of menacing size. Periodically it came to frantic life, a hind leg vigorously clawing at a hidden flea, before it subsided again.
    Having discommoded himself of the Neapolitan officer, he had not had much sleep in the arms of the energetic Annie. He was no longer a young