Kings and Emperors Read Free

’tween the wars, roping him into one neck-or-nothing affair after the other, and the cool James Peel … “’tis Peel, James Peel” … who was just as scary.
    Lewrie hadn’t seen Mountjoy’s dangerous side, yet, but he was mortal-certain that, with teachers like those, the man had one, and before this active commission in command of Sapphire was done, there always was a good chance that he’d ask, or order, Lewrie to perform some “damn-fool” mission. Secret Branch had their hooks in him and they’d never let him off; it was only a matter of time!
    What was really disturbing about such a mild-looking man as Mountjoy was that, once, he had told Lewrie that a part of his mission here at Gibraltar was to find a way to turn Spain, which had been at war with Great Britain since late 1804, to abandon its alliance with Napoleonic France and switch sides!
    That had appeared to be a chore worthy of Hercules, like mucking out the Augean Stables, but, of late, events had arisen that might make it happen. The slavishly Franco-phile administration of Spain’s Prime Minister, Godoy, had signed a treaty with France to let one of their armies march cross Spain to invade and conquer Portugal to force that country to cut off all trade with Great Britain, and at that moment, that army, under a Marshal Junot, was doing that very thing. Would the Spanish people be too proud to abide that?
    Damn my eyes, but he’s grinning! Lewrie thought, groaning to himself again; I may be in the “quag” up t’my neck!
    Of course, Lewrie could also consider that Mountjoy had merely got some very good news of late, and had come to impart it, in the usual “ask me first, I know something that you don’t know” way that most people in Secret Branch evinced … the smug bastards! He might even owe Mountjoy a drink at the end!
    â€œHallo, Captain Lewrie!” Mountjoy called out as Lewrie stepped onto the landing stage and ascended the ramp to the quay. He had his hat on the back of his head, hands on his hips, and his coat thrown back, beaming fit to bust and looking like a fellow who’d bet on the right horse at Ascot or the Derby.
    â€œWhat’s this welcome in aid of, Mountjoy?” Lewrie asked, feigning a faint scowl. “Need my services of a sudden, hey?”
    â€œWhy, I’ve come to congratulate you on your splendid show this morning,” Mountjoy teased. “Most impressive, I must say!”
    â€œImpressive, mine arse,” Lewrie scoffed as he doffed his hat in salute. “Could you see the Dons laughing?”
    Mountjoy had lodgings high up in the town, the upper storey of the house to boot, with a rooftop gallery where he kept an astronomical telescope so strong that he could count nose hairs on the Spanish sentries on their fortified lines, and get a good look at Ceuta, their fortress on the other side of the Strait of Gibraltar, on a good day.
    â€œThey were so amused that I fear several of their naval officers herniated themselves,” Mountjoy twinkled back. “And, I have come to share the latest news with you.”
    â€œIf it’s something that gets me out of the gunboat trade before the dockyard sets things to rights, and back to sea, it’d be welcome,” Lewrie replied, all but crossing the fingers of his right hand for luck.
    â€œWell, it might, ” Mountjoy allowed, “one never knows. Junot is across the border into Portugal, and is dashing on Lisbon as fast as his soldiers’ little legs can carry them, and thank God that the roads, or what pass for roads in Portugal, are so shitten-bad, if they exist at all. Come, let us stroll to a tavern, and I’ll tell you all.”
    Lewrie noted, from a corner of his eye, that Mountjoy’s second-in-command, Deacon, was at hand and on a careful watch over his superior, whilst seeming to be merely strolling and window-shopping. The grim,