Arthur lowered his pen and read through the order. The words seemed a poor vehicle for the sense of affection and obligation that filled his heart. He could only hope that the men understood him well enough by now to see beyond the words. He called for Somerset to take the order for duplication and distribution throughout the army. Then he made his way up to his sleeping chamber. The hour was late, well past midnight, and at first light he would be leaving his men, his comrades, and returning home.

Chapter 52 - London, 24 June 1814

Chapter 52

London, 24 June 1814

‘By God, I’ve had enough of this,’ Arthur muttered wearily as the carriage and mounted escort halted yet again as the crowd blocked the way ahead. Ever since he had landed at Dover the previous day, Arthur had been thronged by his countrymen. Word of his return had spread along the road to London well ahead of his carriage and excited mobs of men, women and children, of all social stations, waited to catch a glimpse of the man who had delivered them, and Europe, from the clutches of the French Emperor. At first Arthur had been happy to rise up and lean out of the window to return their greetings, but as each occasion caused further delay, he settled back into his seat and merely nodded or waved as they approached the capital.

Now they were stuck in a street not far from Westminster Bridge. Outside, the cheery faces of the people contrasted with the grimy brickwork of a tannery from which smoke and stench curled into the warm air of a summer’s day. Turning to look through the small window under the driver’s bench, Arthur could see that a large man had stopped the carriage and was gesturing to his friends to take the reins of the six horses that had pulled it from the last posting inn.

‘What the devil is he doing?’ Arthur muttered.

‘Do you wish me to go and see, your grace?’ asked Somerset.

‘By all means. Tell the fellow to clear the way and let us through.’

Somerset nodded, and opened the carriage door. Immediately there was a deafening cheer from outside, which swiftly fell away as Somerset looked up and the people could see that it was not their hero. He stepped down on to the road, shutting the door behind him. ‘Let me through! Out of my way there!’

Arthur settled back into his seat and stared at the rear of the carriage, ignoring the faces pressed round the small windows of each door. Outside he heard a voice calling out above the din of the crowd.

‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir, we don’t mean no ’arm. Me and these others are just wantin’ ter drag ’is grace’s carriage to ’is ’ome. Back to the arms of ’is good lady wife.’