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pleasure!’
    ‘Does he indulge in such pleasures?’
    ‘Don’t we all? Well, excepting Bills probably. Truscott is a Cambridge man, though, so you never can tell.’ Pringle had attended Oxford. ‘You know he says that he must have been there at the same time as Wickham, but does not recall ever meeting him.’
    ‘Have you heard from him?’ asked Hanley.
    ‘No, not since you left us. The fellow is probably too busy enjoying himself to write to his friends.’ Pringle went back to the paper, skimming quickly through the sheet. ‘I cannot see any mention of the Russians.’
    Hanley shook his head. A squadron of Russian warships had been sheltering in the Tagus off Lisbon when the British Army arrived. Russia was allied to France, but not actually in a state of war against England until a few weeks later. By that time, they were included in the Convention and allowed to return to their home ports.
    ‘The Navy wasn’t about to let the fleet sail away, and Admiral Cotton put up quite a stink.’
    ‘So what happened?’ asked Pringle.
    ‘Well, we are English.’
    ‘So I have been told.’
    ‘And so there was a compromise. The ships stay, and the Royal Navy will keep them until six months after Russia ends hostilities. All the sailors have already been sent home.’
    ‘Good riddance,’ said Pringle. He had nothing against Russians in general, but at the height of the summer’s campaign, Maria had ensnared him and the others in a deadly race against a Russian officer and his soldiers. She wanted to beat them to the hiding place of treasure left by her former lover, an aristocrat who had fled to South America. The Russian count had been ruthless and clever, and they were lucky to win in the end. Williams and Dobson had done most of the killing on their side. The old veteran had taken the Russian’s sword and given it to Williams. He had also taken the gold from the man’s purse and shared it with the officers. Pringle had bought the horse with his share, and Williams the basic accoutrements of an officer. Hanley was sad to think that he had gambled away most of his own portion. Truscott was probably using his as they spoke, for the army did not make allowance for provisions for convalescing officers.
    Pringle laid down the paper. ‘So what, apart from the life of London nearly two months ago, is going on in this wide world?’
    ‘Well, I do not really know all that much, and suspect I understand even less,’ began Hanley. The last was quite probably true. Born of an indiscretion between a man of business and an actress, Hanley had never known either of his parents, having been raised by his maternal grandmother. His father paid for an education, even allowing him in later years to travel abroad and pursue his artistic dreams. He had also secured him an ensign’s commission at the age of ten, before such abuses had been stopped. It gave him an officer’s salary without any obligation to earn it. Only when his father had died and his half-brothers cut off his allowance had Hanley been forced to return to England and take up this only opportunity for employment. Half a year later, and he still felt himself very much a civilian. His ignorance of many military matters continued to astound his friends. They trusted his courage, for he had proved that in Portugal, and had schooled him so that there was a better than even chance that his uniform was fit to be seen for longer than the first five minutes after he had dressed. Yet in many ways he remained an astounding griffin.
    ‘Napoleon is here in person,’ said Hanley, confirming the rumour that had been circulating throughout the army in recent days. Many had repeated the story, but on questioning their ‘certain information’ invariably proved to have come from someone else, who in turn had been told by a friend or simply a passer-by. The army knew very little of the wider war beyond what they saw day to day as they marched with their regiment.
    Major Alastair