The Iberian Flame

Chapter 33

It wasn’t easy to gain audience with the captain general, and it was not until late evening that this was granted over a hasty meal in the chambers of the council, then among noisy debate and occasional flaring arguments.

‘What is it you want, Englishman? I’m a busy man,’ he asked, through an interpreter.

‘General, I’ve been treated well by the Spanish and wish you well of your noble cause.’

‘And?’

‘Sir, this is an endeavour fraught with difficulties. How can you think to arm and train your citizenry, your militia, without the means to do so? If-’

‘This is my business, Ingles, not yours. Is that all?’ He broke off more bread, the toss of his head dismissive.

‘You and I both know you haven’t powder, shot or even pay for your army to make a good showing against the French, and if you don’t, your glorious uprising will melt away in shame.’

‘So? What do you suggest?’

‘That England brings you help and sustaining. Not only ammunition and uniforms but-’

‘No.’

Taken aback by Morla’s blunt retort, Renzi asked quietly, ‘May I know why not? You’ll agree we have common cause against the French tyrant, surely.’

‘I need to explain it to you?’ Morla snarled. ‘We’ve been at war for centuries past. Why should we trust you with our country now?’

‘I can assure you that-’

‘I’m a military man, Ingles, and I notice things different to your man of words only. Like Cadiz – an old city sticking out into the sea on an easily fortified peninsula. How you English would adore to possess a second Gibraltar!’

It took Renzi’s breath away but the man was clearly sincere in his views. ‘Sir, that’s not at all in our conceiving.’

‘No? Then you’re going to pour in your arms and treasure and not take a price for it? You think me a fool? There’s one prize you haven’t wrung from us yet, Ingles. Our colonies in the Americas. You’ve forgotten your invasion of Buenos Aires already? We haven’t.’

Renzi swallowed. He was losing the argument. And the infinitely precious chance to turn an enemy into an ally.

Morla finished his wine, drinking like a peasant from a skin. ‘You’ll act like a conquistador, see us weak and helpless, then trample over us. Ours is a proud country and never will allow this. Thank you for your preaching, now let me get on with my work.’

So that was it! The pride of a Spaniard that would never allow him to suffer the humiliation of begging, cap in hand, even for his own salvation. It was understandable and impossible to counter. Unless …

‘This I do allow is nothing an honourable man can tolerate,’ Renzi agreed. ‘Yet it seems to me there is a way that at one stroke you can achieve a standing with the English that lets you look them in the eye as an equal. That enables you to accept anything they offer at the same degree as they offer it.’

Morla paused, his eyes speculative. ‘Go on, Ingles.’

‘The French are not just on the road from Madrid. They are here, now.’

The general narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

‘With an artillery detachment of a hundred cannon and more, quite able to reduce Cadiz in hours.’

‘What are you blathering about?’ he barked.

‘The French squadron, new shifted into the Carracas arsenal. If you move against them as they lie, set them to the torch or batter them to submission with your own pieces, you’ll have the whole glory of finishing the battle of Trafalgar for the English, for these are the last survivors remaining. You’ll do what Admiral Nelson did not and the world will hear about it, be assured of that, General. Will you not then be able to stand before any Englishman with this victory at your back and demand what you will?’

Morla’s eyes gleamed. ‘I hear you well. It will not be easy – the ground at the arsenal is well chosen by our fathers, marshes, soft going for guns of size. Yet I’ll do it, I believe! It’ll give much heart to our brave soldados as will lead them on to triumph later. Hey – wine for my friend! You’ll drink with me, mi amigo.’