Chapter twenty nine: State Agreements


Kilkea Castle, Monday the 9th October

"You took your time" grumbled George the younger.

"I had a war to win, your Highness. Even for me it takes a few days. It wasn't as bloodless as in England and I regret the death toll. Here your commanders chose to put the locals in the frontline to buy time… It was a mess."

"I hope you paid the price!" grumbled the Crown prince.

D'Arcy nodded.

"I lost two cavalrymen… They stumbled over a cliff while mopping up the fleeing remnants of the British army." He let a little lifeless smile adorn his lips. "I'll regret the horses, they were quite good Arabian half bred we stole in your London stables."

That shut the prince up.

"It serves you right" said the King. "Don't pick up a quarrel with a master or you'll pay the price."

Those last days had been a living hell for the Crown Prince with his father swinging in and out of normality. And since his father had none of his usual aids it had been his duty to help him and care for him. And he sure hadn't the soul of a caretaker!

As a result he had lost quite a few pounds.

Not enough to spare him his normal father's sarcasm or his crazy father's compassion.

He knew which he preferred.

"What do we do?" said he finally. "I suppose you know our proposal."

"Indeed I do and as your father surmised I'm here to strike the deal. But I have a demand which won't be in the general agreement. I ask for a deal between Geoffrey d'Arcy and the reigning King of England."

George the Third signed.

"What is it? What else do you intend to take from us?"

"I won't take it from you; I'll buy it from you. At the same price you bought it 36 years ago. Seventy thousand pounds!"

George the Third frowned.

"That was the price I paid for the isle of Man."

"And that's the price I'll pay for it. And you should accept my offer because the Irish temporary government won't wait very long to grasp for it!"

He smiled.

"It seems that in the torment of events that little British Isle has been forgotten by everybody. Even I must have forgotten about that little forlorn Crown possession and did no claim to incorporate it in France's new départements. So, technically it is still yours to sell. And technically it is still mine to buy. Or, if we don't agree, it could be for its neighbors to claim..."

He leaned back into his chair.

"What will it be, your Majesty?"

"How will I get the money?"

"You'll get it where and in the form you prefer it. I would advise a bill of exchange on my Venetian Bank. It would give you a registered share nobody but you can get. It is the most secure way to travel with such a huge amount."

George the Third nodded.

"I suppose you have the contract ready?"

It was immediately on his desk.

"I already signed" said d'Arcy.

"You are a very confident man" grumbled the Crown Prince. "I was tempted to refuse."

"Just to spite me? That's a rather petty movement!"

"He is a petty man" said the King while signing. "That's probably why he tries to look like a Walrus."

"Stop it father, I'm no…"

"Shut up George! While I'm normal I'll say what I want and that's it…"

He handed the contract to d'Arcy who took it and handed another sheet of paper to the King.

"The bill of exchange, your Majesty. You'll be able to cash the money in every bank in Europe or America."

The King took it and gave it to his son.

"Take it you'll need it the next time I'm out of my mind. I could burn it just to look at the pretty flame."

"If you lose it, I'll grant you a copy, have no fears" smile d'Arcy. "It's under your name nobody else will be able to cash it."

"Both our names?" asked the Crown Prince.

"It's under the name of Georg von Hannover" answered d'Arcy while pronouncing it in perfect German. "If I remember well that's both your name."

The King nodded and put a few sheets of paper out of a portfolio.

"This is my proposal, monsieur le Proconsul. And if you accept we agree that the French will clear all remaining English lands in their possession."

D'Arcy shook his head.

"The French troops will evacuate the English mainland immediately leaving behind the police force and enough public servants to manage the land while the people of England decide what type of government they want."

He smiled.

"Jersey and Guernsey will remain under French authority. As a Normandy Noble I can't let those French islands stay under English yoke any more than necessary… It is a matter of principle!"


Two hours later d'Arcy was reading the last article of the fourth copy of the Peace treaty. He was a very thorough man when it came to politics.

He nodded for the first time.

"That's quite an accomplishment, your Majesty. And the French translation is quite a nice touch!"

George the Third made a face.

"It's not as if we had a lot else to do, isn't it? So we polished the text, translated it and made copies…"

D'Arcy acknowledged their work with a knowing smile. The King's handwriting –he wrote the English text–was finer than that of his son –who apparently was very fluent in French–but both texts were similar.

"I must say that if you hadn't included those poor French islands in the Treaty I could have taken it to Napoleon without even revising it. So we will have to rewrite the sheet where you listed, rather painstakingly, all of England's possessions we would clear."

He lifted an eyebrow.

"Or I could simply cross those French Islands from the list. What do you prefer?"

"Cross them off" answered the King. "It will show that I didn't let them go without trying to keep them. I'll note the change on the last sheet of paper."

"Then" said d'Arcy "we can sign now and go together to Paris…"

That brought a heavy silence in the room.

"Paris? Why Paris" asked the Prince. "We thought that, once signed we would happily part and never see each other again!"

D'Arcy shook his head and tried a placating smile.

"We can't do this without the First Consul. It would have little sense to sign this master piece of a treaty just to see Napoleon rip it in pieces out of spite and pettiness, now would it?"

George the Third made a face.

"But what will happen to us, afterwards?"

"If we play this in the right manner, you'll be for the rest of your lives welcome guest at Napoleon's soon to be court and if you wish it, live in France under quite satisfying circumstances. I could myself introduce you with one of my Loire Estates where one of the best French white wines is produced."

"The English people would brand us traitors…" protested George the Prince.

"Because you've abdicated to give them their freedom?" asked d'Arcy. "I doubt that very much! I hope you know that they don't like you at all, your Highness. Now even less than six months ago. You've lost all sympathy in most of your subjects' hearts. But if they see that you went to Paris to broker their freedom against yours, their resentment should probably be reduced quite a lot!"

He made a fatalistic gesture.

"But I'm also quite sure that they won't ever like you, your Highness! You've such an awful image, it will be forever impossible to readjust it in your people's mind…"

The Crown Prince snorted.

He knew it himself that the English people didn't like him. And since he was only the crown Prince he was the unhappy subject to pamphlets and nasty jokes! Only his brother Frederick was considered even less than him.

He sighed.

"I know but I'm worry about Napoleon's reaction. He could just show us off and then have us guillotined!"

D'Arcy could only laugh at the Prince's gullibility.

"Be careful not to be a victim to your own propaganda, your Highness. Napoleon is indeed a ruthless opponent but he is also a shrewd politician who feels every opportunity he crosses on his journey. I already forced him to show unwanted leniency by letting Wales and Scotland out of his greedy clutches but now he has surely grasped all the benefit these two gestures had granted France and him. And so he will see the great opportunity to go on in that direction. He won't like it any better than the loss of Wales and Scotland but he will understand the benefits he can gather by going on in that particular direction. He'll be able to show off as the liberator of French Canada and he will appear once more as a very moderate politician who's able to abandon a land –and riches–he had already conquered."

D'Arcy nodded while smiling.

"He will love that last image!" The smile disappeared and he pointed at his two opposites.

"But don't be fools and believe that he's really enamored in that peculiar image. He will wear it as long as necessary to placate and reassure Europe's rulers that he has changed but underneath he will remain the fearless and ruthless predator whose only goal in life is to get more power, more riches and more adulation!"

"And we should trust such a man?" asked the Crown Prince.

"He's the man who holds England final fate in his hands. I can sign the treaty and he will probably respect my signature but the only way to be sure he won't come back on my word is to force him to give his word." D'Arcy nodded more for himself than for the men in front of him. "Yes, if he signs he will respect this agreement, if not…"

The King stood up.

"I'm weary of this place. Let's go to Paris and be done with this!"

He looked at d'Arcy.

"I hope that estate of yours has a good library?"

"I don't know, I never was there, it belonged to a branch of the family that died rather early in the Terror phase of the Revolution. Further I believe the neighbors have been rather interested in saving from robbers everything able to be moved." A feral smile appeared on his lips. "They were easily convinced to bring everything back and to put it where they first found it… So there should be a few books available. But be sure that, should you decide to accept my hospitality that you'll have access to the best library of the Loire Region." His smile changed for his more ironic cousin. "I could even accept that the part of your Palace library still in crates was moved to my castle. As a sign of good will…"

The Crown Prince sighed.

"Of course…" he nodded. "At least the wine is good?"

"One of the best in France…"


"You go back to France and you take our guests with you" said d'Arcy while speaking to the little group of officers who had gathered around him. "I want you to bring them to my castle in Passy. Nobody learns anything about their presence there! And I'm adamant: no-bo-dy!"

He massaged his neck and stretched. He hadn't had the opportunity to sleep since the battle at Belfast and it was showing. He would have to sleep here before going on to Cardiff.

"I'll join you there as soon as possible and until I'm there, the Castle must look as if unoccupied by important guests. You'll be visible and you'll pass yourself as a work gang charged with renovating the Castle to bring it up to modern standards under the guard of two dozen guards. There is a crew of servant there and even if they are trustworthy they don't have to know who our guests are. If asked they are parents of my wife who wanted to come to France in advance while I close my affairs in Great Britain."

"We are done with Ireland, Boss?"

D'Arcy looked at the young Arab who just spoke. He had gathered quite a few of those in Egypt and Syria and they were his staunchest supporters.

"Not yet, Djamal. The Irish are hot-heads. They need to be shepherded into safety or they'll be at each other's throats in no time. I'll have to make a few round trips between Wales and Ireland within the next month to stabilize the situation. But I believe we'll be done with Ireland before the end of fall. December we should be back home." Wherever home is for me

"We go back to Syria?"

D'Arcy smiled. Of course home is different for everyone.

"Indeed we go back to Syria, but before we have that job in Paris to complete. After that I suppose I'll have a little time to journey with my wife. And Syria is a wonderful land full of architectural marvels. I'm quite sure my wife will love the land and its people…"

Djamal smiled his most flashing smile.

"And when the people look at your wife they'll know that Allah has looked at you and smiled benevolently."

That remark made d'Arcy laugh aloud.

"I have no doubt, Djamal. No doubt at all!" He tapped the young Arab on the shoulder. "And what's even better, Djamal I believe you're right…"