The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 785 - 370: The Military Flag of Britain_2

Arthur paused slightly in his tea-pouring when he heard this, then raised his head to stare at Plunkett’s bald pate for a good while, "Shoot at the Duke of Wellington? Thomas, how could you have misconstrued me in such a manner?"

Plunkett’s eyes widened, "Ah? Isn’t that what you summoned me for?"

"Why would you think that?"

Plunkett scratched his head, "Er... Maybe it’s because I’ve been too tense lately. I’ve heard some folks in the hall say that you are quite a special person..."

Arthur took a sip of tea, "How special?"

"That sort of special..."

"Which sort?"

After holding back for a while, Plunkett finally confessed, "The kind that’s not quite on the same path as us. Sir, some of the chaps in the hall think you’re with the Whig Party, with the reformists. And besides, you’ve got a Bonaparte with you! It sounds quite reasonable, doesn’t it, that a Bonaparte would want to kill the Duke of Wellington?"

Louis, who had been diligently taking notes, nearly snapped his quill upon hearing this.

With a look of exasperation, he looked up and earnestly assured Plunkett, "Mate, it’s true we Bonapartes don’t take kindly to the Duke of Wellington, but we would never stoop to such a despicable act against him, well... at least not someone with brains like me."

Arthur didn’t rush to clarify the mission with Plunkett upon hearing this, but instead tried to calm his subordinate’s emotions by striking up a chat.

"Thomas, I assure you, if anyone in the hall tells you that I gave the order to assassinate the Duke of Wellington, you can shoot them on the spot and come to me to claim a bounty with their head, do you catch my meaning?"

With those words, Plunkett finally felt at ease, sinking back into his chair and wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

"Sir, your words give me peace of mind. You may not realize what Old Nosey means to us old soldiers. Amongst us, many detest war, but, I mean, but... if England must have its Army serve, and I am also within the armed forces, then we hope that the one commanding us must undoubtedly be Old Nosey."

"Though he’s strict with military discipline, every time we’re at war under his command, he surely looks after our welfare, and we never have to fear the enemy. Especially two things, we can always be assured of."

"First, no matter how adverse the conditions, we’ll always get ample supplies. Second, no matter who the enemy is, whether Soult, Marmont, or Napoleon, we’re certain to beat them black and blue. What more could we soldiers ask for?"

"Just seeing him atop the hill, stepping in his ankle boots, dressed in white breeches and a deep blue frock coat, adorned with a white cravat and a cocked hat, would put everyone at ease. I’d wager with you, not a single man who served in the Napoleonic Wars wouldn’t want to serve Old Nosey."

Arthur laughed, "He dressed so modestly in battle? That’s not what I’ve heard. During conversations with the constables, they told me that most officers, even in war, like to drape themselves in elaborate attire, adorned with gold and silver. The most typical was the Royal Navy’s Horatio Nelson, who preferred to wear a richly decorated coat with ribbons and medals studded with jewels, very conspicuous on the Victory. That’s why he got picked off by a sniper as the Battle of Trafalgar was drawing to a close."

When Plunkett began talking about past experiences, his entire demeanor seemed to light up. He laughed heartily, "True, most officers like to dress fine, appearing as if attending a ball even on the battlefield. But Old Nosey, like you, was a special sort. He always dressed plainly in battle, never making a show of himself. Because he understood that even without donning gold or elaborately primping, we, his men, recognized him for who he was."

Arthur asked, "Are you implying that the Duke of Wellington was close to the soldiers, and that’s why you all recognized him?"

"No, no, no."

Plunkett took the glass full of brandy from Louis, thanked him, and guzzled it down before continuing.

"Old Nosey was never about making jokes with us; that wasn’t his style. He was mostly very calm and serious. The one who liked to jest with the soldiers was Prussia’s Marshal Blücher, whom I had the chance to see once at Waterloo when he had just led the Prussians out of the clutches of the French. There, on the roadside, we came upon him and his troops." frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

"I remember, despite being a 74-year-old man with scratches all over his limbs, he was still vibrant and spirited. He cleaned his wounds with brandy, then downed a bottle of strong liquor. Although riding must have been excruciating for him, he kept spirits high, chatting and cracking jokes all the way with us. Our morale had been low, but his humor ignited the column like wildfire."

"I didn’t exactly converse with him, just caught a fleeting glimpse. But given the chance, I would have liked to tell the old hero, though the French had battered him thoroughly, to see him escaping their pursuit was especially thrilling for me, and I believe that everyone from the 95th would feel the same way."