Having untied the cord attached to their wrists the sergeant, who spoke a little French, made it clear that if Roger attempted to escape he had orders to shoot him, and that during the night one of his men would sleep in the passage on a palliasse outside the door. Then he locked Roger in.
Going to the window, Roger parted the worn curtains and looked out. The room was at the back of the house and below him lay the stable yard. A man carrying a lantern was watering a horse down there, and by its light Roger could faintly make out the outline of the buildings round the yard. Up there on the second floor he was at least twenty-five feet from the ground, but the roof of the lowest floor projected about two feet from the wall of the building. By hanging from the window sill his toes would have been only about five feet from that projection. Even in full health and not crippled, to risk a drop on to such a narrow ledge would have been extremely hazardous. As it was, still weak from his recent illness and with his right leg as yet barely able to take his weight, he realised that to attempt the drop would be madness. He would certainly break his leg as it hit the ledge and, on falling from it, probably his neck.
With a sigh he turned away and sat down on the edge of the bed. Looking out of the window had brought home to him acutely that, in any attempt to escape, he must not count on using even moderate strength; his only hope lay in outwitting his escort.
Presently a tray was brought in to him by one of the troopers. On it there were two brodchen filled with leberwurst, a piece of apfelstrudel and a mug of cheap draught wine. Slowly he ate his supper, pondering possible ways to fool the yellow-haired sergeant, but could think of none.
There was no heating in the room, so it was bitterly cold. Having examined the bedclothes he found they were far from clean, as might be expected in a second-rate inn. To sleep between them in only his underclothes would be to invite the attention of bed-bugs and probably lice. So he shook them all out, lay down fully dressed, then piled them on top of himself for warmth.
Having snuffed the solitary candle that the landlord had lit before leaving him in the room, he thought for a while of Georgina and wondered if he would ever see her again. Then he thought of poor little Mary, whom he had deserted to come on this ill-fated mission. He now felt that he had treated her unduly harshly for having interfered in his affairs. But they had made it up before parting, and he could only hope that she would find some way of making a not too unhappy life for herself when Charles got home and told her that her husband was in prison, with little hope of returning home for years to come.
After a while he began to wonder how the war was going, as for a long time past he had heard only vague rumours about it. That the French had been driven from Frankfurt showed them to be in very poor shape. But he thought it probable that they still held Mainz, as the barrier of the broad Rhine would prove a serious obstacle for any considerable force; and the dynamic Blücher’s headquarters being on the right bank seemed a certain indication that the French were holding the left in strength. He was still vaguely speculating on how long the war would continue when he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
He was roused by a persistent tapping, occurring at brief intervals. As his mind cleared, he realised that it came from the window. Thrusting the blankets from him, he limped quickly over to it and pulled aside the curtain. It was pitch dark below, but outlined against the star-lit winter sky were the head and shoulders of a man.
With sudden hope leaping in his heart, Roger strove to get the window open. It had probably been shut for years and resisted all his efforts. He dared not break the glass, for fear that the noise would rouse the soldier who was sleeping outside his door. Now desperate at the knowledge that the chance of escape was so near, yet still barred to him, he racked his brains frantically for a means of prising the window up. A possibility flashed into his mind. Hurrying back to the bedside table, he picked up the tray on which his supper had been brought, shot the contents on to the bed and re-crossed the room with it. The tray was oblong, about fourteen inches by twenty-four and made of iron with plain, thin edges. Holding it by the sides, he jammed one of the narrow ends into the crack between the frame of the window and the sill. Using all his force he managed to insert it far enough to grip; then, using it as a lever, heaved back on it. The wood groaned and gave a trifle, so that the tray came free. Thrusting it in again, Roger repeated the process. With a sigh of relief he felt a rush of cold air as the window opened a good inch. Eager hands from outside grasped and heaved it up.
‘Charles, bless you!’ Roger whispered.
‘Dam’me, I thought you’d never hear my tapping,’ Charles replied with a low laugh. ‘Come now, can you manage to follow me down this ladder?’
‘Yes,’ Roger nodded. ‘I’ll be all right.’ Then, as Charles descended a few rungs to make way for him, he scrambled over the window sill out into the dark night.
When they reached the yard Charles murmured, ‘Had I not had the luck to find this ladder, God knows how I could have got to you. But if we leave it where it is it will be seen by anyone coming to the stables and give premature warning of your escape.’
Taking the ladder away from the wall they carried it into the shed where Charles had come upon it, then he said, ‘Now we must find you a horse. Soon after you were taken from Blücher’s H.Q., I made off with a mare on which to follow you, but …’
‘Charles,’ Roger interrupted him. ‘You have performed a feat that does you the greatest credit. I’m truly proud of you, as your dear mother will be when I tell her of this night’s work, and prodigiously grateful. You can scarce imagine the horrors you have saved me from and, crippled as I am, my chances of escaping were next to nil. Speaking of which, though I can mount a horse, I’m not yet capable of riding either fast or far. I gravely doubt me if we could keep a lead for long, once they send mounted men in pursuit of me.’
‘What alternative have we but to attempt that?’
‘To lie low here in Frankfurt until my leg is again sufficiently strong to stand up to a hard day’s riding. Our problem is to find trustworthy people who would be willing to hide us. I know of only one, and him I have not seen for many years. Even to reveal our identities to him will prove a gamble; but I judge it to be a risk worth taking.’
‘Who is he?’ Charles asked as they moved out into the deserted street.
‘He is a Jew, and it is all of eighteen years since I had dealings with him. It was in September ’95, a year or so after the fall of Robespierre. A reaction against the Terrorists had set in, and it was thought possible that one of the Republican Generals might be induced to bring about a Restoration, as did General Monk in the case of your ancestor King Charles II.’
Roger had already turned in the direction of the Staathaus and, as they walked along together, he went on, ‘It was decided that, for our purpose, the best bet was a very able General named Pichegru. At that time he was commanding an army with his headquarters at Mannheim, and in the same theatre General Jourdan was commanding another on the north bank of the Necker. They were some distance apart, but both operating against two Austrian armies, commanded by Generals Wurmser and Clerfayt, and a third force of Royalist Frenchmen under the Prince de Condé.
‘The mission on which Mr. Pitt sent me was, first to see the Prince and obtain from him a signed promise that Pichegru should be made a Duke and receive numerous other benefits including a large sum of money, then take it to Pichegru and endeavour to persuade him, in exchange, to lead his army on Paris instead of against the Austrians.
‘I succeeded in getting Pichegru’s agreement, but for one thing. He required an assurance that when he arrived outside Paris with his army, the bulk of the population in the capital would not be opposed to a Restoration. The only way to make certain of that was for me to go there and find out.
‘That I was willing to do, but time was a vital factor. It had already been agreed by Jourdan and Pichegru that the latter should make a dash on Heidelberg. By joining forces there they would have be
en in a position to defeat the two Austrian armies one after the other. To bring about an end to the war was the main inducement for the Parisians to welcome a change of Government, so if the Austrians were defeated and sued for peace, Pichegru would have no case to call for a Restoration.
‘As England was providing the money to bribe Pichegru, I had been entrusted with an open order on the British Treasury. To gain the time needed to save the situation I offered to pay Pichegru a million francs if he would postpone his march to join up with General Jourdan, and so save the Austrians from defeat.’
‘A million francs!’ exclaimed Charles. ‘That is a mint of money.’
‘Yes, fifty thousand pounds, and I had to find the money in gold at short notice. I shudder now at my own temerity. Had things gone wrong, or he gone back on his word, I should have been held responsible. Through other causes we failed to bring about a Restoration, but he sent only two divisions, instead of his whole army to join General Jourdan; so the Austrians were saved from a major defeat, which might well have put them out of the war, and that was worth the money. I got it from this Jew to whose house we are now going. I only hope that he is still alive and will prove friendly.’
As Roger had been telling of this mission he had undertaken during the wars of the Revolution, they had re-passed the Staathaus in the main square of the city and, after taking several wrong turnings, he recognised the entrance of the narrow street he had been looking for.
‘Ah, this is it!’ he exclaimed. ‘’Tis called the Judengasse. In the old days not only were all the Jews in the city compelled to live here but chains were actually padlocked across this entrance to keep them in at night. It is at least one thing to be said for the Revolution that, wherever the French went, they opened up the ghettoes.’
The street was so narrow that only a single vehicle could have been driven down it. As they advanced, Roger kept his eyes fixed on the upper storeys of the houses, from which hung signs of various designs, just visible in the starlight. Recognising one by its shape he pointed to it and said:
‘That shield is painted red. Comparatively recently this family of Jewish bankers changed their name and took a new one from the shield. They are now known as the Rothschilds.’
As he spoke he turned and hammered with his clenched fist on the stout, iron-studded door of the house. There was no answer, so he told Charles to create a louder summons by kicking the door with his riding boot.
At length a light appeared, a grille in the door opened and a pair of dark eyes peered through. ‘We are friends,’ said Roger in German, ‘and I wish urgently to speak with Herr Maier Amschel.’
‘To our sorrow, my master died fifteen months ago,’ replied a gruff voice.
‘Then I must speak with one of his sons. You can say that I am an Englishman and that the British Treasury has already had dealings with this house through me.’
The grille closed, there followed an interval of about ten minutes, then came the sound of bolts being drawn back and the door was opened, but only a few inches, and it remained secured by a heavy chain.
A man in a loose robe, wearing a skull cap, surveyed them with shrewd, dark eyes and said, ‘I am Anselm Maier, the senior partner of this House. Why do you come here at this hour of the night?’
‘You will not remember me,’ Roger replied, ‘for it is eighteen years since I was here. But you may recall the transaction, since you and two of your brothers were with your father at the time. In four days you succeeded in securing for me a million francs-worth of gold coin against an order on the British Treasury.’
The banker nodded. ‘I do remember, because it was our first transaction of real importance with the English. And now, high-wellborn one, I vaguely recall your face.’
As he spoke he undid the chain, opened the door and bowed them in. His servant, who stood behind him, relocked it while he led them through his counting house to a room behind it, lit candles and begged them to be seated at a round table of finely-polished, beautifully-grained wood.
Roger introduced himself and Charles by their proper names, then came at once to the point. ‘I am in trouble with the Prussians. They believe me to have committed a murder of which I am innocent. I was being sent under escort to Berlin to be imprisoned, but tonight Lord St. Ermins here rescued me. Owing to a severe leg wound I have for some time been unable to ride fast without incurring great pain, so did we take horse from the city tonight we would almost certainly be caught. Our best hope is in lying low for some days. We will then stand a much better chance of getting away. I know no-one but yourself in Frankfurt, and I have no claim on you; yet I make so bold as to ask if you will allow us to remain in hiding here.’
Anselm Maier’s expression did not change but he said quietly, ‘I think, high-wellborn one, that you do have a claim on my house. Do you recall my second younger brother, Nathan?’
‘Yes. He was then a young man of about eighteen. I have met him since, some years ago in London. He told me that he had spent some time in the north of England, and made a handsome profit in Manchester goods before moving to the capital.’
‘That is correct. But you seem to have forgotten that he consulted you when we first met on the prospects of making good money in England. It was on your advice that he went there, and you fulfilled your promise of putting in a good word for him with a Mr. Rose, who was then head of your Treasury.’
Roger laughed. ‘Yes, I recall that now. May I take it then that you will give Lord St. Ermins and me sanctuary for perhaps a week or so?’
‘You will be my honoured guests, high-wellborn ones; and now permit me to offer you some refreshment.’
Standing up, Anselm Maier left the room and returned a few minutes later, followed by his servant. A bottle of wine was opened and dishes of motzas and saffron cakes set on the table. While enjoying a splendid Hock, they talked of the war and its recent developments, on which the Jewish banker proved to be extremely well informed.
He said the Allies had been very tardy in their advance after Leipzig, but had now reached the Rhine in a number of places. However, typhus was rampant among their troops, so it would probably be some time before they felt strong enough to cross the river. An Austrian army had entered eastern Switzerland, and a Prussian army under von Bülow had crossed the Dutch frontier. Bernadotte had left his allies to march south and swung his Swedes north-west through Hanover, with the obvious intention of besieging and capturing Hamburg from his hated enemy Davout.
At these last words Roger sadly shook his head and murmured to Charles, ‘Had we only known, we could have remained in Hanover until the Swedes overran it. Then Bernadotte would have put us on a British ship, and in a week or so we’d have been safely home.’
The banker went on to tell them how, after Leipzig, Napoleon’s Confederation of the Rhine had fallen to pieces. The score or more of petty Princes who had licked his boots and supplied him with troops and money for a generation had hastened to transfer their allegiance to Austria. To be allowed to rule independently again in their pocket kingdoms, they had promised to raise between them a quarter of a million men.
‘It was through handling their business that the fortune of your family was founded, was it not?’ asked Roger.
‘Indeed yes, high-wellborn; particularly that of the Landgrave of Hesse, whose territories are far greater than those of any of the others. He was one of the richest sovereigns in Europe, and owed the greater part of his fortune to England. Before the coming of Napoleon all the common people in the Principality were serfs. Every year the Landgrave had the young men rounded up, at times as many as twelve thousand, and sold them as soldiers to the English, who sent them to fight in the Americas. He then lent the money to the always needy King of Denmark, and we acted as his agents.’
‘Now that he is once again master in his realm, do you think this wicked traffic in men will be resumed?’ Charles asked.
Anselm Maier shook his head. ‘No, high-wellborn. Having tasted freedom, the people would
not submit to it. And if it did the House of Rothschild could now afford to refuse such unsavoury business. I remain at the centre of things here. My second brother, Solomon, is now well established in Vienna. Nathan, as you are aware, has already become a power in the financial world of London, and my youngest brothers, Karl and James, have recently opened branches in Paris and Naples. We have perfect trust in one another, and always act in concert. Together we decide how to utilise our now considerable resources, and always support causes that we believe will benefit humanity.’
A grandfather clock in a corner of the room struck three o’clock. Glancing at it the banker said, ‘High-wellborn ones, half the night is already gone. Permit me to conduct you to a room where you can get some sleep.’
They readily agreed and he took them up to a room on the third floor, in which there was a large, comfortable-looking bed. After wishing them good sleep, he added, ‘I am confident that I can trust all my people, but others come to the house, so it would be best if you remained here during your stay, and I will have your meals sent up to you.’
Having expressed their gratitude they quickly undressed, blew out the candles and were soon asleep.
During the three days that followed, they were well cared for. Several times Anselm Maier came up to bring them books, talk with them and see that they had everything they wanted. But they were extremely worried, because they had learnt that not only the Main, upon which Frankfurt stood, but the greater part of the east bank of the upper Rhine were now in the hands of the Prussians. It was certain that by this time a full description of both of them would have been circulated, and all troops ordered to keep a look-out for them. Roger’s leg had suffered no permanent damage, except that a large piece of flesh from his calf had had to be cut away, but for many weeks he would have a limp which he would be unable to disguise and to put a strain upon his leg for any length of time still pained him considerably. And they were now faced with the problem of crossing both the Main and the Rhine before they could hope to be safely back in French-held territory.
The Irish Witch Page 28