Edward Trencom's Nose_A Novel of History, Dark Intrigue and Cheese by Giles Milton

Author:Giles Milton [Milton, Giles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2012-08-08T23:00:00+00:00

25 FEBRUARY 1824

It has been raining for almost twenty hours – raining so hard that the two figures at the prow of the ship are drenched to the marrow. Their capes hang heavy and water-logged; their felt-brimmed toppers are drip-drip-dripping. Yet neither man shows the remotest concern about the inclement weather, for both are preoccupied with staring at the misty, opaque-grey horizon. They are looking for land – hoping that soon they will reach their goal.

The taller of the two men leans forward on the ship’s rail and extinguishes the feeble lanthorn. ‘Yes, yes – I think, by God’s grace, that I see the cherished land. O Greece!’ he declaims with great theatricality. ‘O ye land of the gods! Our mission, our destiny, now awaits us. We must perform our duties with the courage, with the heroism, of the Ancients.’

The man who has uttered these words is none other than George Gordon Noel, the sixth Lord Byron, who declared just two days earlier that he would end his life on Greek soil. He intends to offer himself as a sacrifice to the cause of the Greeks and his resolution seems to have given a new purpose to his existence.

The person to whom he is speaking is a rather less imposing figure, yet one who has nevertheless a most arresting and distinguishing feature. Charles Trencom (of Trencoms in London) has a nose that even his lordship has conceded to be extraordinarily noble. Long and aquiline, it is marked by a curiously shaped bump over the bridge.

Charles can scarcely believe that he is standing on board the Hercules, next to the Lord Byron, the dilettante, the debauched, the most famous poet of the age. ‘Pom-pom!’ he thinks. ‘What a strange twist of fate!’

Just a few months earlier, Charles had been working behind the marble counters of Trencoms, selling cheeses to the tavern owners and grocers of Georgian London. The exact date – which he would never forget – was 7 November. He had just sold an exceptionally fine round of laguiole when two men with unfamiliar faces entered the shop and asked if, begging his pardon, they could have a word. A perplexed Charles had agreed and within a few minutes he found that his life was about to be transformed in a most unexpected way. The men introduced themselves as Sir Francis Burdett and John Hobhouse, founder members of the Greek Committee, which had been established just a few weeks earlier in order to promote the cause of Greek independence. They were helping to finance Byron’s military expedition to the Peloponnese and had already sent munitions to help further his cause.

‘But,’ they told Charles, ‘we have our fears about his noble lordship. He is so …’ The two men glanced towards each other, unsure as to how indiscreet they could be. Hobhouse stared intently at his walking cane (as if that held some answers) while Sir Francis pressed on with the unfinished sentence.

‘The fact is,’ he said, dropping his voice to

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