Sir Alexander’s office was familiar, with its ornate furnishings and that view over the baking courtyard. The chairs still stood at attention around the long polished table and the same ornate chandelier hung supine in the still air. The only difference was the presence of a long sword, which sat in its gold-encrusted scabbard on the table. The tip pointed ominously towards him, as if in warning. Glancing into the gold-framed mirror, Jack wished that he had been given time to change. He looked shabby in his battered working clothes, with his hair pulled back in a club and his ribbon badly tied. His apprehension built up, as Lieutenant Wetherall stood erect at his side.
‘What is this about, Mr Wetherall?’ Jack felt sick. If Sir Alexander had found out about the treasure, his recent jubilation at having a new labour force would be very temporary. Not only would he lose any future commissions, he would probably be tried for treason. Did they still behead traitors? Or would it be the hangman’s noose and the choking drop in front of a curious crowd? What would Bethany do? Jack looked down at himself. She would find somebody more suitable and more successful. Perhaps, he told himself bitterly, even the dashing Commander Cockburn.
Wetherall seemed to have grown two inches in height and ten years in maturity since his promotion. ‘I have no idea, Mr Tarver. I was just sent to find you. Sir Alexander does not inform me of everything he does.’
Jack relapsed into silence. Wetherall was so formal that he obviously suspected he was in trouble and was keeping him at arm’s length. The hangman’s noose was tighter now, so he could feel the chafe of hemp at his neck. He was not aware of the Admiral approaching until he heard the marine sentry snapping to attention, and then Sir Alexander was striding in.
The two armed escorts slammed to attention.
‘Ah, Mr and Mrs Tarver! I am glad that Lieutenant Wetherall could locate you at last. You seem to be engaged on a number of perambulations on our behalf, what with building roads and marching across half of Calabria. We have matters to discuss, Mr Tarver.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Tarver thought it best to say as little as possible until he learned what this interview was about. At least Sir Alexander sounded amiable, but that could be a front. Looking at the long, sensitive face, Jack wondered how many hangings and floggings the Admiral had ordered with the same expression of benign indifference.
When Sir Alexander positioned himself in front of the portrait of the long dead Grand Master, past and present combined to form a continuity of control. He looked at Jack for a long moment before running a hand over his head.
‘Well, Mr Tarver, no doubt you are wondering why you are here.’
‘I am, sir,’ Jack agreed. He felt himself stiffen to attention, as he had while standing in the rector’s office at Wolvington College many years ago. Except the rector had not the power to order his execution.
‘When you came here first’ – Sir Alexander seemed in no hurry to relieve Jack of his curiosity – ‘I informed you of the political situation. I told you of the failings of British arms on the Continent and the need for Great Britain to subsidise foreign armies.’
Jack stiffened further. ‘You did, sir.’ He started, as there was a knock at the door and Commander Cockburn entered. He looked immaculate in what was obviously his best uniform.
Ignoring Bethany, Cockburn stood a few paces in front of the door, with one hand on the hilt of his sword. Jack looked cutty-eyed at him, wondering if he was to command the escort that took him to the dungeons, then his eventual trial and execution. That would be the supreme irony, for then Cockburn would doubtless pay court to Bethany. But Sir Alexander was speaking again.
‘I did. And I asked you to help search for the treasure that was believed to be hidden on this island.’ Sir Alexander’s eyes seemed to penetrate inside Jack’s head, probing for every scrap of information that might be hidden there.
‘Yes, sir.’ Jack tensed himself. Would he submit quietly, or try to fight and flee? He might knock down Cockburn – indeed, that would be a pleasure – but there was Wetherall and the two escorts, and a marine sentry at the door, and others elsewhere in this palace. What would Bethany think, to see her husband dragged bleeding and bawling to the scaffold? Would she not prefer him to die with as much dignity as he could muster? Although, from what he had heard about a hanging, there was nothing dignified at all …
‘Mr Dover reported on that matter to me.’ Sir Alexander had a slow, ponderous way of speech, as if he were weighing every word before he said it. ‘It seems you went to great lengths to accede to my wishes, Mr Tarver, including putting your life at risk and jeopardising the completion of your road.’ He leaned forward slightly, and all amiability receded from his eyes. ‘And, more worryingly, you also put Mrs Tarver in danger.’
‘If there was any danger, Sir Alexander, I ventured into it willingly,’ Bethany began, but Sir Alexander silenced her with a wave of his hand. Jack opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again without saying anything.
‘You are wise to make no comment, Mr Tarver. Commander Cockburn here assured me that you did try to restrain Mrs Tarver.’ His benign mood returned. ‘It is never an easy task to keep a woman under control, is it? That statement is especially true of a woman as spirited as your lady wife!’
Jack allowed himself to smile and agree. He was still unsure where this conversation would lead.
‘However, I am not here to discuss such things. I have a rather more serious matter in mind.’
Jack stiffened again. He would know in the next few moments, and then it would be the ignominious march under armed guard, the hurried trial and the final drop, kicking and choking in front of a crowd.
‘When I informed you of the situation of the Third Coalition, Mr Tarver, I did not expect you to try and alter things yourself. Yet I believe that you took rather an active part in the late action on the Plains of Maida. You helped drive a battery of guns to the field, I hear, and carried a message to the square of the 78th at a crucial time of the action.’
Jack closed his eyes, reliving those terrible hours when he wrestled the artillery over the track, and that mad dash to the young Highlanders to inform them that the approaching infantry were enemies, not friends. He had not mentioned these events to Bethany and was aware of her appraising eyes. She would be most displeased to hear of the risks he had taken.
‘Lieutenant Colonel Patrick MacLeod mentioned the incident, Mr Tarver, and at his request, backed by the words of Lieutenant Alexander Cameron, Lieutenant Charlton and General Stuart, I have great pleasure in the following action.’ Sir Alexander nodded to Commander Cockburn, who took three long paces to the table and lifted the sword, which he handed to Sir Alexander.
‘Come here, Mr Tarver!’
Jack stepped forward, still unsure what was happening, until Sir Alexander buckled the belt around his waist.
‘You may be aware that the Patriotic Fund awards swords to naval captains who have performed great deeds. There is no such institution for civilians, but the army raised its own funds for this occasion.’ Sir Alexander looked over to Bethany. ‘You should be very proud of your husband, Mrs Tarver. For a civilian to show such dash and courage, far beyond what was required of him, is very unusual.’
Jack stared. If Sir Alexander knew that he had acted while riddled with fever and so addle-headed that he did not know what he was doing, he would take back the sword with a curse and a blow.
‘I have never doubted that, Sir Alexander,’ Bethany said quietly. ‘And he is also a fine engineer and a good husband.’
‘It is, of course, highly irregular to reward a civilian in such a manner, Mr Tarver, but the circumstances are hardly regular, are they?’ Sir Alexander was smiling benignly and even Cockburn looked pleased.
‘I do not know what to say, sir.’ Jack held the sword awkwardly. It was heavier than he had expected. The blade was inscribed with a battle scene and the words:
To Jack Tarver, Engineer, for his bravery at the action at Maida, which turned the course of the battle in favour of British arms.
‘It is I who should say something, Mr Tarver.’ Sir Alexander bowed. ‘I can only thank you on behalf of all the people of Great Britain.’
Holding the sword, Jack mumbled something in reply, as Sir Alexander ushered Commander Cockburn from the room.
‘So now, Mr Tarver, I have only one more thing to add.’ Sir Alexander lowered his voice: ‘Pray, don’t stray too far. The country has need of talent and courage such as yours.’
‘I am just an engineer, sir,’ Jack said.
Sir Alexander shook his head, ‘Not any longer, Mr Tarver. As from today, you have a far more important role. You have proved your bravery and resourcefulness. From today, you will work with Mr Dover.’
Jack looked up. ‘That would make me a spy.’ He shook his head, ‘Hardly a respectable occupation for a married man.’
Sir Alexander nodded in the direction of Bethany. ‘Mrs Tarver seems to disagree.’
Jack fingered his whale tooth and looked at Bethany, who was smiling to him.