The Launching of Roger Brook rb-1

by Dennis Wheatley

  As Roger continued to spend two evenings a week studying with Brochard, he took an early opportunity of asking him why, in view of the recent treaty of peace and France's deplorable financial situation, she should undertake such a stupendous outlay in preparation for another war.

  The Bordelais shrugged his broad shoulders. " 'Tis said that the King wishes for peace, yet he never ceases to build ships of war with every few francs that he can scrape together. The truth is that he is weak as water and swayed in his opinion from one side to the other by every person that he talks to. One day he supports M. de Vergennes, his Foreign Minister, who desires a better understanding with England, the next M. de Castries and M. de Segur, the Minister of War, who naturally desire to set their dangerous toys in motion. The Peace of Versailles stipulated that within a year France and England should enter into a Commercial Treaty. Twould greatly benefit both countries by a reduction of the present crushing duties that they level on one another's merchandise. If 'tis concluded the peace party should triumph. But the nobles, in the main, look to war as a pleasurable excitement from which they may win personal glory and the bulk of the spoil from any victorious campaign, so they are ever eager for it.

  Others, like our client, the Marquis de Rochambeau, consider that France should by right dominate the world, and spend their lives intriguing to embroil us with one country or another in the hope of bringing a new slice of territory under the banner of the Fleur-de-Lys. But, make no mistake, if they force us into another conflict within the next ten years France will become bankrupt on account of it."

  The idea of spying on behalf of his country had never entered Roger's head, and to send home a chance come-by military secret of a people who were affording him hospitality seemed a mean thing to do; yet, having thought the matter over, he decided that the Cherbourg project was so flagrantly a pistol levelled at the very heart of England that he could not possibly rest easy while his own country remained in ignorance of it; so he wrote to his mother giving her as full particulars as he could gather, and asked her to pass them on to his rather for submission to their lordships at the Admiralty.

  Although he was totally unaware of it he had pulled off a coup that any professional spy would not have stuck at murder to achieve. His mother acknowledged the letter and a week later, greatly to his surprise, he received a terse note from his father, which ran:

  I cannot find it in me to forgive the unpardonable affront you put upon me personally and the deliberate wrecking of all my cherished hopes in you. Yet I am pleased that you have not so far forgotten yourself as to fail in your duty as an Englishman. Their Lordships were mightily pleased with what you sent and have commanded me to convey their thanks to you, hence this letter. I may add that any more of the same or similar that you may be able to send will be received with appreciation; but, since I may be from home on a round of inspections, 'twould be better that you write direct to one Gilbert Maxwell, Esq., of No. 1 Queen Anne's Gate, Westminster, to whom your name has now been given.

  On re-reading the note it was clear to Roger that his father would never have written to him at all had he not been commanded to do so by their Lordships, and, as there was no other information worth reporting, that appeared to end the matter.

  Summer merged into autumn and the only change that it made for Roger was that he gave up reading poetry with the fair-haired Louise to resume dancing; this time with another brunette, named Genevieve Boulanger. But now he was looking forward to Athenais's return from the country and daily his hopes rose of once more catching sight of his little goddess.

  In October all Europe was electrified by a war scare, caused by Marie Antoinette's brother, the Emperor Joseph II of Austria, manifesting most bellicose intentions towards the Dutch. The news sheets were full of most contradictory reports about the grounds of the quarrel, so Roger, as usual in such matters, went for enlightenment to the knowledgeable Brochard.

  " 'Tis the well-being of the great port of Antwerp that is at the bottom of it," Brochard informed him. "Long ago, after the Dutch had rebelled against the Spaniards and gained their independence in the United Provinces, the Treaty of Munster gave them the land on each side of the mouth of the river Scheldt, while the Spaniards retained the city of Antwerp, which lies some way up it. In due course Antwerp and the Belgian Netherlands passed from Spain to Austria, and, as you know, they still form part of Joseph II's Empire, although separated from its main part by numerous German Principalities. The Dutch built forts on both sides of the river mouth and for many years have levied the most crushing tolls on all merchandise either going up to Antwerp or coming seaward from the port. In short, they have virtually levied a tax on the whole sea trade of the Austrian Netherlands and, in consequence, Antwerp has declined from one of the greatest cities in Europe to a town of a mere forty-thousand souls of whom, 'tis, said, twelve-thousand are now reduced to living on charity."

  "And the Emperor has formed a resolution to "open up the port?" put in Roger.

  Brochard nodded. "Precisely. Unlike his sister, Joseph II is a great reformer. He has spent most of his reign travelling to all parts of his dominions, and in others, to see things for himself; and to find out in what way he can better the lot of the many races that go to make up his people. When he visited the Austrian Netherlands he was infuriated to find that his subjects there had become desperately impoverished solely to enrich the Dutch. He demanded that they should open the Scheldt to his traffic. Since, after a year's arguing, they still refuse to do so, this month, as a test case, he sent two Austrian ships up the river with orders to refuse to halt at the forts. The Dutch fired on both ships and drove them back, so the Emperor is now reported to be mobilising an army with a view to invading the United Provinces."

  " 'Tis surely unfair that one nation should be in a position to tax another out of existence," observed Roger. "So it would seem to me that the Emperor's cause is just."

  "One cannot but sympathise with it," Brochard agreed. "Yet as legal men we should be the last to approve the ignoring of the sanctity of a solemn treaty; and 'tis that which the Emperor asserts his right to do."

  " 'Tis a nice point: but why, if the Austrians and the Dutch do decide to fight it out, should all Europe become involved, as the news sheets would have us believe?"

  "The Low Countries have ever been the scene of the greatest European conflicts, and for that there are many causes. For one thing they form a racial no-man's-land where the Latin and Teuton stocks are mingled together. For another, the two great blocks of southern Catholic Europe, and northern Protestant Europe, meet head on there. Then it has always been a cardinal factor in English foreign policy that they should not be allowed to fall into the hands of any great power, since their possession by such would prove a constant menace to England's safety. And for that same reason the war party in France has always hankered after them."

  "Yet none of these reasons apply to the present quarrel."

  "They might. Austria is a great power and the English may well decide to support the Dutch by force of arms, rather than see Joseph II master of the United Provinces. Again, our own war party is no doubt inciting the Dutch to resist in the hope of being called in to their support."

  "But in that case France and England would be allied in a common cause against the Emperor."

  Brochard shook his head. "Nay. It goes deeper than that, for the Dutch are divided against themselves. The Stadtholder, William V of Orange, has little power. The States-General, as the Dutch Parliament is called, practically ignores him and has strongly revolutionary tendencies. Yet, like all his family, he is the protégé of England and, if the English come in, 'twould be to maintain him on his throne. France, on the other hand, is behind the rich burghers who wish to establish a republic, and if she came in would use them as a cat's-paw to secure the domination of Holland to herself."

  Long afterwards Roger was to recall this conversation with intense interest, as it made plain things of the utmost importance to him which he would
not otherwise have understood.

  In November he saw Athenais in her coach once again, and the sight of her rearoused all the violent emotions that had lain dormant within him throughout the summer. But she still did not reappear at the Cathedral of St. Pierre.

  Nevertheless, seeking among the crowd for her there on the following Sunday gave him a sudden idea, and he was furious with himself that it had never occurred to him before. Athenais must go to Mass somewhere each Sunday. Why should he not wait outside the Hotel de Rochambeau until her coach came out, then run after it until it reached the church that she attended?

  A week later he posted himself in the Rue St. Louis, a good half-hour before there was the least hope of Athenais appearing. When at last her coach emerged from the courtyard he slipped out from the archway in which he had been lurking and pelted hot-foot in pursuit. As he had foreseen, in the narrow streets of the town the cumbersome vehicle was unable to make any great pace, so he was easily able to keep up with it; and it had covered scarcely a quarter of a mile before it halted outside the church of St. Melaine.

  Breathless and excited he followed Athenais, Madame Marie-Ange, and the footman who carried their prie-dieux inside, and took up a position in which he could keep his eyes glued to the face of his beloved during the whole service. Except on the evening of their first meeting he had never had the opportunity of observing her for so long at a stretch, and by the end of the Celebration he felt positively intoxicated by the sense of her beauty. So bemused was he that he forgot to leave his place in time to catch her glance as she left the church, and he returned home still in a state of half-witted exultation.

  He could hardly wait for next Sunday and counted the hours till it came round. This time he was waiting on the church steps for her arrival and, noticing him as she was about to enter the sacred building, she gave him a smile. Towards the close of the service he moved quietly over to the stoop, as he had often seen gentlemen in Catholic churches dip their hands in the Holy Water and offer it to ladies of their acquaintance who were about to leave, and he meant to boldly adopt this courtesy towards her.

  As she approached she smiled again and, seeing his intention, withdrew her hand from her muff. Only with the greatest difficulty could he keep his hand from trembling as he dipped it in the water and extended it to her. For a second their fingers touched. Lowering her brilliant blue eyes she crossed herself and murmured, "Merci, Monsieur"; then she had passed and was walking on towards the door. Again bemused with delight Roger left the church. After nearly fourteen months of longing he had once more touched her hand and heard her voice.

  Genevieve Boulanger had already gone the way of Louise Ferlet and Tonton Yeury, and he was now spending a few evenings a week with an attractive young woman named Reine Trinquet, but he determined to see no more of her. He could not bear the thought of letting any other girl even touch the hand that Athehais had touched. Henceforward he must keep it as sacred as though it were a part of her.

  The next Sunday and the next he went through the same ritual with his adored at the church of St. Melaine, but he was terrified that if he made any further advance he might lose the precious privilege that he had gained. At the same time, having given up the two or three evenings a week dancing to which he had become accustomed, for all his marvellous day-dreaming about Athenais, he found time begin to hang heavily on his hands.

  As a remedy for this, taking out his sword one night to clean it provided him with an idea. It was over a year since he had done any fencing, and he had no intention of remaining a lawyer's clerk all his life. If he meant to become a really first-class swordsman it was high time that he got in some practice.

  Inquiries soon provided him with the address of a fencing-master; one M. St. Paul, an ex-trooper of His Majesty's Musketeers. M. St. Paul's academy proved to be mainly a resort of the local aristocracy, but in this one matter of practising with weapons they seemed to have no class prejudices whatever; many old soldiers went there for an occasional bout and anyone who could handle a rapier or sabre efficiently was welcome. Roger's first visit resulted in the wiry little ex-Musketeer taking him on himself and, after expressing his satis­faction, agreeing to his coming whenever he wished on payment of a franc an evening.

  In December the Emperor Joseph was reported as moving through the German States towards Holland with an army of 50,000 men, and, to the perturbation of the peaceable citizens of Rennes, all leave for the French army was cancelled as from the 1st of January. But Roger was now too taken up by thoughts of his weekly meetings with Athenais to bother his head any more about whether or no Europe was on the point of bursting into flames.

  As Christmas approached he thought of sending her a New Year's gift, but could think of nothing that he could afford to buy which, in his eyes, would be worthy of her acceptance. Then, on further thought, he realised that in any case it might be extremely ill-advised to send her a present. Madame Marie-Ange no doubt regarded his offering Athenais the Holy Water each Sunday as a harmless courtesy inspired by gratitude; but if he sent a present the duenna might guess that he had a much stronger feeling for her charge and adopt Count Lucien's attitude towards him. Yet he felt that he could not allow the season of good will to pass without showing Athenais some mark of his feelings for her.

  The inspiration then came to him to write a poem as, folded up into a small packet, he felt sure he could manage to slip it into her hand on the Sunday nearest New Year's day without Madame Marie-Ange seeing him do so.

  Roger had a definite gift for expressing his thoughts clearly on paper and using French as a medium was no handicap to him as, after seventeen months in France without speaking a single word of English, he now habitually thought in French; but he had no flair for poetry. The result was that after several nights of cudgelling his brain he pro­duced only a strange effusion which any serious critic would have regarded with scornful amusement. Nevertheless it did not lack for feeling and, being no critic himself, he was rather proud of it.

  Without Madame Marie-Ange apparently noticing anything he managed to slip his verses into Athenais's hand, then he waited with the greatest impatience for the next Sunday in the hope that she might reward his efforts by some acknowledgement of them. In this he was disappointed, yet she gave him her usual gracious smile so he at least knew that she was not offended. In consequence, he set to work on another, longer, poem and, although the correspondence continued to be one-sided, he henceforth produced one a week for her.

  This winter of 1784-85 the river did not freeze hard enough for there to be any skating, so he saw his beloved only at church and occasionally driving through the streets; but on none of these occasions was she accompanied by the young man he had seen pushing her sleigh on the ice the previous winter, so he had no cause for jealousy.

  By February two French armies were being mobilised, one in Flanders and another on the Rhine, and war was now thought to be inevitable. But Roger took scant notice of such news, since he was wholly absorbed in his weekly poems for Athenais.

  Spring came at last and with it, on a Sunday in mid-April, an event that created a drastic change in his whole outlook. As usual at the end of Mass he had, concealed in his hand, a poem for Athenais. Just as he was about to hand it to her she dropped her missal and stooped to recover it. He, too, bent swiftly to pick the book up for her. While they were both bent above it she stretched out both her hands, took his poem with one and, with the other, pressed into his free hand a Uttle three-cornered billet-doux; then she retrieved her missal and, with a smiling bow to him, walked on towards the door.

  Trembling with delight and impatience to read this, her first love letter to him, he hurried into a side chapel and unfolded the single sheet of paper. On it were a few scrawled lines in an untidy, illiterate hand that looked more like the laborious effort of a child of nine than the writing of a girl of nearly sixteen. It read:

  Dear Monsieur Breuc,

  This is to tell you how much I have enjoyed your poems. I think it
very clever of you to write them. I wish that it was possible for us to meet so that we could talk again. I found you very unusual. You interested me very much because you have seen a side of life that I shall never know. But social barriers forbid us the pleasure of such conversations. This letter is also to bid you farewell. To-morrow I leave for our Chateau at Bicherel where we always spend our summers. Next winter I do not return to Rennes. 'Tis the desire of my father that I should join him at Versailles where I am to be presented and live at Court. So we shall not see one another any more. Good fortune to you Monsieur Breuc and may God have you in His Holy keeping.

  Athenais Hermonaie de Rochambeau.

  Had the roof of the church fallen upon Roger he could hardly have been more shaken. The fact that she had written to him at last, the pleasure she had derived from his poems, and her obvious liking for him all went for nothing beside the one heartbreaking thought that he was never to see her again. In all his previous trials he had managed to restrain his tears but, although he was now seventeen, he leant against a pillar of the chapel and wept unrestrainedly.

  For a fortnight or more he could take no interest in anything. Madame Leger, Manon, Julien and Brochard all saw that he was desperately miserable about something, but he would not confide in any of them and their efforts to cheer him up were of no avail.

  In the spring of that year there had been exceptionally little rain and May was a month of glorious sunshine, but it brought upon France the evil of a terrible drought. Even in Brittany, normally rich in dairy produce, butter, milk and cheese rose to phenomenal prices. The dearth of cattle fodder was so great that the King took the unprecedented measure of throwing open the Royal Chases to the livestock of his suffering people. Yet, as usual, while the rich went short of nothing the poor had to go without, and discontent against the ruling caste caused sullen murmurings in all the great cities.