The Lightstep

by John Dickinson

  'Bof!' exclaimed Lanard, after waiting for a reply. 'Maybe there are indeed fanatics in the town, Commander! Yet it is not a town of fanatics. And the point is, that they do not have this choice. Fate has given the choice to you, to make for them . . .'

  Wéry sighed. The arguments of yesterday – whose was the choice, whose the responsibility for the coming deaths – lumbered into his mind. But he must not allow himself to be distracted. And he must not – must not – fall into another rage. Not now.

  '. . . The men of the garrison will be disarmed and may return home. The officers will be required to give their parole, but they too will be released once that is done. A few will be held, of whom you, I fear, will be one. But you need not be anxious. We plan a gentle captivity for you. It would even be possible – I am authorized to say this – for you to be accompanied while you are our guest by any who are dear to you.'

  A sudden, involuntary pressure from the hand within his own! He thought, too that she caught her breath softly. But her grip relaxed at once. After a moment, he felt her other hand come across to cover his.

  Whatever you do, he remembered her saying. Whatever. Oh God, and he had clung to her as she said it! He almost wished, now, that she would speak. But he knew that she would not. She had promised that she would not, just as she had promised last night that she would be close to him, whatever he did. All that she had to say, she had now said. Whatever you do.

  And also: There are still innocent people in the city.

  Lanard's eyes were on them. After a moment he added carefully, 'Habits of thought change slowly, even in the territories administered by the French Republic. But I should have said that with us, a union between a former aristocrat and someone of a different station is now rather less unthinkable than perhaps it is here. Especially if both are strangers and guests of the state.'

  And now he was silent. He was waiting for his reply. Wéry stirred.

  'You have finished your blandishments, Colonel?'

  Lanard frowned. 'I have finished, yes – for the time being.'

  'And you suppose I will submit to them?'

  'That,' said Lanard, 'is up to you and you only.'

  'Then permit me to say that you should not have uttered those last remarks. Until you did, I had intended to surrender the town.'

  Lanard looked up sharply. The hand on his did not stir. Whatever you do, said the touch of her skin upon his own.

  'Commander . . .' Lanard began.

  'I may yet surrender the town,' said Wéry slowly, fighting the anger that had risen in his throat. 'But I have two conditions.'

  'Let me hear them.'

  'First, that you put your bribes back in your pocket. I will go to Paris in chains if need be. But my second condition is that once in Paris I shall be permitted to address the houses of the Legislature. There are words I must unsay. And then I will have more to say to them yet. After that you may do with me as you will.'

  Silence, and the low murmur of men in the passageway beyond the door.

  'Ah,' said Lanard softly. 'Ah, I see.'

  And he leaned back and looked at the ceiling. 'You will choose death in a prison, or perhaps on the guillotine. And you will go to it with your words ringing in the ears of Paris. I see.'

  'I have words that I must unsay,' Wéry repeated.

  He glanced at the woman at his side. His look would have said to her: I am sorry. I could wish . . . But she had closed her eyes. Her mouth was shut, firmly, as if she were in pain but would not speak.

  'I think that I must refuse,' said Lanard at last.

  'Then . . .' said Wéry.

  'No. Before you pass the word to your batteries, Commander, you must allow me to explain. I understand what you would do. You wish to spare those you are responsible for. This is the action of a sane man. But you would also remain true to your cause. This is the action of one who would be thought of with honour. Alas, it is mere pride and delusion. There is no possibility that what you ask will be permitted.

  'If I return to my general with your request, he will either lose his temper and begin the assault at once, or he will indeed agree your terms and send you in chains to Paris, knowing, as I know and as you should know, that the Legislature, the Directory or whoever you will, will not in fact hear you when you come. At best some clerk may be told to take your statement and some one or two persons may read it out of curiosity. That is all that will happen to the words of Wéry.'

  Wéry drew a long breath. Beside him, the eyes of Maria were still closed.

  'I do not ask much in exchange for a city,' he said. 'It is strange that we should break down over a few words.'

  'You are mistaken. You ask more than I can offer. Even great men, in their hearts, would rather let a thousand die in a distant land than spend twenty minutes hearing that they are wrong. My masters for the present are not great but little. Eh, Wéry. I have in my pockets proposals for a pension for you, if you surrender the city. I should not advise you to take it, mind you, because the Republic has some difficulty paying its pensions at present. If we come to that, you should insist on a grant of land – perhaps even the return of your old estate in Brabant. Also I have some idea to what level it may be possible to reduce the demands my general wishes to impose upon the city. All this we can talk about . . .

  'But first you must choose. If you insist on remaining pure, then between us we will kill the city. If you wish to save the city, you must consent to humble yourself – perhaps even to be a little bit corrupt. You should not fear this. To be corrupt is, after all, merely to be human, as I have said to you before.'

  So they would give him nothing. All the things he felt, all the things he would say – they would not hear them. And if he surrendered now, no one would remember what he had stood for. A night's futile cannonading – it would not be worth a single line in Augereau's despatches to Paris. His words would have to be written in blood, or they would not be read at all. They must be written in the blood of the innocent.

  Maria had opened her eyes. He looked into them, and she looked back.

  In her face he found at last the strength to let go.

  'Very well,' he said, and bowed his head. 'We will spare the city.'

  'Colonel, I am delighted,' said the Frenchman.

  Wéry frowned at the table. It was over. He had decided. He felt . . . No, to his surprise he did not feel uncomfortable with his decision. And suddenly there were so many things to think about. The terms . . .

  He gripped her hand, hard, and felt her fingers answer his.

  'It will be necessary to know what size your garrison would be,' he said.

  'That will be for us to say. You may be assured it will not be bigger than we need. We do not have so many soldiers that we can leave a full brigade in idleness.'

  'The levy,' he asked. 'How much?'

  'The paper says four million livres. I suspect we shall not settle for less than three and a half millions. But how much is collected – it is always another matter, and one neither you nor I can control.'

  'You mentioned requisitions.'

  'The usual things. A thousand head of cattle. Five hundred horses. Five hundred mules or donkeys. Five hundred wagons. Leather, cloth, iron, copper. The church and cathedral bells must be surrendered to be melted down . . .'

  'They have gone.'

  'I thought they would have done. Ah, nails, straps, buckles – Rouche has the list. I cannot remember it all.'

  'I shall need to confer with my officers.'

  'I am sure they will do as you suggest. Particularly if you suggest to them that it is not worth losing their lives after all.'

  Bergesrode would resist, Wéry thought. Bergesrode would resist to the last man, if he could. He and his fanatics would barricade themselves into the cathedral. He would have to be forestalled . . .

  Maria, and Brabant. I am corrupt.

  Corrupt. But – after all – what of it? Even sanity had its price.

  'Another matter,' he said. 'I am charg
ed with the custody of certain people in the citadel. What of them?'

  'It depends who they are. These are political enemies of your Prince?'

  'Yes. One of them is the Canon Steinau-Zoll, who took your testimony last season. There is also the Canon Rother-Konisrat, the Baron von und zu Löhm . . .'

  Lanard shrugged. 'Of course we would examine the list. But I could not predict what we would do. If you wish your prisoners to be released, Colonel, you must do it yourself. And before we enter the town.'

  'Very well . . .' Wéry leaned forward. His eyes were on the polish of the table, and his heart in the touch of the woman's hands. He heard himself say, 'Then I would ask you to wait in another part of the palace while I assemble my commanders.'

  And while he arranged for the arrest of Bergesrode. There must be one last act of tyranny. He would have to be quick.

  'Of course. But, Colonel . . .'

  Wéry looked up.

  'I wish that you would smile a little, when you have saved your soul.'

  Maybe he did smile a little, then. And her hands pressed warmly upon his.

  'That is better,' said Lanard. His eyes slid sideways to the door of the inner room. 'And perhaps – before your conference begins – perhaps we may all be admitted to Paradise, now?'

  Cast List

  Michel Wéry A petty gentleman from Brabant

  The Adelsheims

  The Knight August von Adelsheim

  Lady Constanze von Adelsheim

  Franz Their elder son

  Albrecht Their younger son

  Maria Their daughter

  Anna Poppenstahl Governess and companion

  Tieschen A servant at Adelsheim

  Dietrich Servants at the house in Erzberg

  Johann

  Pirenne

  Ehrlich A coachman

  In Erzbert

  The Prince-Bishop of Erzberg

  The Countess

  Wilhelmina Pancak-Schonberg His aunt, and mistress

  Bergesrode His secretaries

  Adhelmar Fernhausen-Loos

  Gianovi First Minister of Erzberg

  Count Balcke-Horneswerden Field Marshal of Erzberg

  The Knight von Uhnen

  Karl von Uhnen His son, an Erzberg hussar

  Baron Altmantz Hussar colonel

  Colonel Knuds Commander of the citadel

  Major Skatt-Hesse Infantry officer

  Captain Heiss Aide to Balcke-Horneswerden

  Lieutenant Bottrop Militia officer

  Asraus A clerk

  Canon Rother-Konisrat A leader of the peace party

  Baron von und zu Löhm Associates of Canon Rather

  The Knight and Lady

  Jenz-Hohenwitz

  The Knight and Lady

  Machting-Altstein-Borckstein

  Doctor Sorge An Illuminatus

  Canon Steinau-Zoll A leader of the conservative clergy

  The Comte d'Erles A French émigré

  Captain Jean-Marie Lanard An officer of the French Republic

  In Mainz Territory

  Ludwig Jürich A judge, and cousin of Anna Poppenstahl

  Emilia Jürich His wife

  Maximilian Jürich His nephew

  Kaus and Madame Kaus Friends and relations of the Jürichs

  Hofmeister and Madame Hofmeister

  Father Septe

  Hartmann Servants

  Hemrich

  Acknowledgements

  This is a work of fiction. The city and state of Erzberg that I have described never existed, and most of the events I have related did not occur. Nevertheless I have tried to make the historical context of my story as accurate as possible. I am deeply indebted to those scholars on whose work I have relied to help me understand aspects of this complex and crucial period: TCW Blanning (The French Revolution in Germany and Reform and Revolution in Mainz), Peter H Wilson (From Reich to Revolution), GP Gooch (Germany in the French Revolution), William D Godsey (Nobles and Nation in Central Europe), Philip Haythornthwaite (Uniforms of the French Revolutionary Wars) and many others, including compilers of websites and editors of letters, dictionaries and chronologies. I owe particular thanks to Dr William O'Reilly of Trinity Hall, Cambridge for reviewing the manuscript and for the many helpful suggestions he has made.

  And like so many authors I owe thanks too to all those friends and colleagues who have read the book for me, and whose comments and encouragement have helped me so much as the story evolved: Pippa, Kim, Bruce, Amanda, Julia, Ginger, Peter, Peter, David, Linda, Ben, Dorie, Paul, Oliver, Jane, Anne-Francoise, Alex and . . . you all know who you are. Thank you so much.