‘Yes, sir. But then I’m not in supplies. And you know what they’re like, sir.’

‘I do. Can’t bear to deal with ’em.That’s why you have the job, Blake.’

‘Thank you, sir. Much obliged.’

Arthur smiled and strode on, through the door into the small adjoining room where he had his personal office. One wall had shelves floor to ceiling on which Arthur kept his paperwork in an orderly manner. His desk, unlike rather too many desks of commanding officers, was bare. It had long been his practice to deal at once with every letter, report, request chit, leave application, disciplinary form or any other piece of paper that landed on the in-tray.That, in addition to the regular training and exercise, is why the men under his command were always amongst the best soldiers in the service of the King.

He sat heavily in his chair and stared out of the window for a moment.The riding school sat atop a hill overlooking Hastings and the sea beyond. Down on the shingled shore the fishing boats were being hauled up from the surf towards the large cluster of net-drying sheds that rose above the tiled and thatched roofs of the town. Beyond the sheds the beach became a mad jumble of large rocks beneath the looming cliffs, and Arthur looked forward to the afternoon walk he regularly took there for exercise. He always found it a fine opportunity to think, uninterrupted by the duties and minutiae of commanding the brigade.

Foremost amongst his concerns at present was the upcoming election for the seat at Rye. He had submitted his name, and been approved by the local landowners who largely dictated the manner in which their tenants would vote. All that remained was to take a short period of leave from the brigade to wine and dine the voters, as was the custom, make a few fine speeches and, after the brief formality of winning the vote, accept the honour of representing his constituents. After that Arthur would be able to support his brother in Parliament, while at the same time promoting his views on the most effective way of defeating France.

There was a knock on the doorframe and Arthur turned away from the window to see Corporal Blake standing beyond the threshold, holding a leather pouch.

‘Excuse me, sir. Just had the mail off the post coach from London.’

‘Thank you, Blake. On the desk there.’