[Marianne 6] - Marianne and the Crown of Fire

by Juliette Benzoni

  'Yes, I did. I wanted it with all my heart. You cannot conceive how much I wanted him to be gone from this place, to go back to his own country while there was still time to avert disaster.'

  'He cannot! Even if he would, he is not alone. There are others – all those who stand to gain from his conquests. The men for whom Moscow has become a kind of Golconda. The marshals—'

  'Them? They ask nothing better than to be gone! Most of them are dreaming all the time of going home. They have never really believed in this war, their hearts have not been in it and, above all, they have not needed it. All of them have grand titles, vast possessions and fortunes they want freedom to enjoy. It's human enough. As to the King of Naples, that glittering centaur, as vain as a peacock and just about as intelligent, at this present moment he is cavorting about in front of Platov's cossacks who are guarding the Russian rear, and doing everything but fraternize with them! The cossacks are swearing that the Russian army is at its last gasp, that more men are deserting every day, and assuring him that he's the most wonderful thing they've ever seen and he, the fool, believes them!'

  'It can't be true!'

  'Don't tell me you've met him and you don't believe it. He's so delighted with them that he's stripping all his staff officers of their watches and jewels to make them presents of them – having parted with everything of his own already! Oh yes, if I had managed to convince Napoleon, the army would have been off in the morning.'

  'That's all very well, but why do it yourself? I should think there must be plenty of persuasive men ready to face the risk – among all those millions at your command.'

  He started and looked at her with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

  'What do you mean?'

  'That I know who you are, and the power you possess in this world. You are the man they call the Black Pope.'

  Instantly he gripped her hands hard to silence her and shot a furtive glance around him.

  'Hush! There are some things which should not be said aloud. How did you guess?'

  'It was Jolival. He realized it at Odessa, when you showed your ring to the Duc de Richelieu.'

  A faint smile touched the cardinal's lips.

  'I should have been more wary of your friend's sharp eyes. He is a good man, and no fool. I am happy to leave you in his care.'

  Marianne was suddenly angry with him.

  'Leave Jolival out of it. We are not talking about him. What I want to know is why you suddenly transformed yourself into a prophet of vengeance! You can't have had the faintest idea of Napoleon's character. To have done what you did was to condemn yourself to death without a doubt. He was bound to react as he did. He took you for an enemy spy.'

  'And what makes you think that I am not? An enemy, I have always been, and if I do not care for the word spy I am very willing to admit that my life has been passed in serving secretly, in the shadows.'

  'That is why I cannot understand what made you choose to step out into the limelight like that.'

  He thought for a moment, then shrugged lightly.

  'I admit that I was mistaken in the Corsican's character. I was counting on the latin, the Mediterranean side of his nature. He is superstitious, I know. I could not have found a more dramatic setting, or a more auspicious moment to try and make an impression on him—and to bring him to reason.'

  'You must have had a hand in the fire. Certainly you knew all about it.'

  'Yes, I did know, and I was afraid for you when I found you here. That was the reason I did my best to save you. And then, when I saw such vast numbers of men – this huge army – and recognized some of our own among them—'

  'Men of the old nobility, you mean?'

  'Yes. Ségurs and Monatsquioux, even a Mortemart, I tell you, my heart bled. It was these, also that I was trying to save, these men who had followed the star of this madman – a madman of genius, but still doomed. I'll not conceal from you that my object in coming here was to destroy him at all costs, he and his. God forgive me, I even contemplated assassination—'

  'Oh no! Not that! Not you—'

  'Why not? The society of which I am the head has not, in the course of its history, always shrunk from committing that sin when it seemed that the good of the Church demanded it. There was – Henri IV, and others. But I give you my word that I had changed my mind. I was sincere, most desperately sincere, when I begged him to turn back, return to France, abandon his endless wars and reign in peace at last.'

  Marianne's great eyes had opened very wide and she was staring at the priest as if he had taken leave of his senses.

  'Reign in peace. Napoleon? Godfather, you can't be serious? How can you possibly wish him to reign in peace when you have always served Louis XVIII?'

  Gauthier de Chazay gave a faint smile with no touch of humour in it. He closed his eyes for an instant and then opened them and in the gaze that met her own his goddaughter read, for the first time, a grim despair.

  'I serve only God now, Marianne, and God hates war. I was wagering everything, you see. Either I would succeed, or else leave here what has become to me a worthless life.'

  Marianne's anguished cry held an element of disbelief.

  'You cannot mean what you are saying? You, a prince of the Church, heaped with honours and power – truly wish to die?'

  'Perhaps. You see, Marianne, in the position to which I have been called I have learned many things. Above all, I have become the repository of the Order's secrets. The most terrible of these I learned only recently and it came as a bitter shock to me, worse than anything I had ever known. The true king of France is not the man I have served for so long, blindly as you said. It is another, closely concealed, a close kinsman of this man and yet indebted to him for a cruel, unjust – and wicked fate!'

  At that moment, Marianne had a feeling that he was no longer with her, that his mind and heart were somewhere else, caught up in a dreadful nightmare that oppressed him. It was as much to bring him back to reality as because she really wanted to know the meaning of what he hinted at, that she asked quietly: 'Do you mean that – that even if he ever came to the throne, Louis XVIII would be only an usurper – worse even than Napoleon? But that would mean that the boy Louis XVII, the son of Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette, who was supposed to have perished in the Temple—'

  The cardinal rose quickly and laid his finger on her lips.

  'Say no more,' he said sternly. 'There are some secrets it is death to know and this is one you have no need to know. If I have told you something of it, it is because you are the child of my heart and so have some right to try to understand me. Know only this, that I found that among the papers of my predecessor – who died not long ago – which showed me that my whole life had been in error. I had made myself, without knowing it, the accessory to a crime, and it is that which I can no longer endure. But for my religion, and the cloth I wear, I might perhaps have put a period to my existence. Then it seemed to me that I might sacrifice my life and at the same time perform a singular service to the world. In making Napoleon turn back, snatching him from his deadly course, I could die in peace – gladly even, for at least he would cease to bleed white with her perpetual wars the country I love as much as God Himself, and yet have served so ill. I have failed, but I shall die none the less.'

  Marianne stood up quickly.

  'Yes,' she agreed, 'and very soon, unless you agree to what I have to propose.'

  'And that is?'

  'Your freedom. No,' she added, seeing him about to protest, 'I did not say anything about a reprieve. You are to be tried this evening and before nightfall you will be dead – unless you do as I say.'

  'What is the good? I have failed, I tell you.'

  'Precisely. And let me tell you that it is stupid to die for nothing. God did not make Napoleon listen to you but He cannot wish your death, since I am here.'

  Something softened in the prisoner's strained face. For the first time, he smiled at her with a hint of his old mischievous gaiety.

&nbs
p; 'How do you think you can help me elude the firing squad? Have you brought me a pair of wings?'

  "No. You will walk out of here on your two feet, and the guards will salute you.'

  Swiftly, she outlined her plan, which was of the simplest. The cardinal was to put on her cloak, drawing the hood down as far as possible and keeping his head bent, like a person in great grief. The handkerchief which had been displayed so prominently on Marianne's arrival would again be in evidence. And then when the guard came back, as he would do any minute, to tell her that the half-hour was up—But here the cardinal interrupted her indignantly.

  'You mean to stay here in my place? And you believed that I would agree to it?'

  'Why not? I am in no danger from a firing squad. To be sure, the Emperor won't be very pleased with me – but that does not matter very much now. We are a long way from Paris and, well, we French must hang together to some extent.'

  'This is ridiculous! It can never work.'

  'Why not? We are very much of a height, when I am wearing low heels. You are no fatter than I am and it is so dark in here that underneath the cloak no one will tell the difference between your black soutane and my dark dress. Godfather, I beg you, do as I say! Change clothes with me and go! You have still so much to do.'

  'To do? But I have told you—'

  'If I have understood you rightly, what you have to do is to repair a great injustice. You have to succour misfortune. And there is none but you to do it. That is what state secrets are for! They give life – or they take it! Go! They will be here in a moment. I swear to you that I am in no danger. Surely you know that for yourself. Believe me. Do as I tell you – or else – or else I will stay here with you and proclaim myself your accomplice!'

  'No one would believe you,' he told her, laughing. 'You forget that you saved him—'

  'Oh, do stop quibbling! Your life is at stake and you know that there is none dearer in the world to me.'

  She had her cloak off already and with a quick movement she threw it round her godfather's shoulders, covering him completely. She was reaching up to pull the hood down over his eyes when he stopped her and caught her in his arms, kissing her very tenderly. She felt the tears wet on his cheeks.

  'God bless you, my child! This day you have saved both my life and my soul. Take care of yourself. We shall meet again, for I will find you – even in America.'

  She helped him hide his face under the hood of the cloak, then gave him the handkerchief and showed him how to hold it up before him. Indeed, the smoke was already beginning to thicken inside the cell and some such protection was becoming almost essential.

  'Above all, remember to disguise your voice if anyone should speak to you. They did not hear mine. And pretend to be dreadfully upset. That will make a good impression. Oh—' Suddenly, she had remembered the precious trust she carried in the little wash leather bag close to her breast. 'Would you like me to give you back the diamond?'

  'No. Keep it. And do exactly as I told you. It belongs to the one of whom I spoke. In four months' time, a man will come to the rue de Lille and ask you for it. You have not forgotten?'

  She shook her head, then pushed him gently towards the door, on the far side of which the heavy, nailed boots of the guard could already be heard climbing the stairs.

  'Take care!' she whispered again, then ran to throw herself down on the heap of straw which had been strewn for a bed in the darkest corner of the cell. She burrowed down in it as far as she could, hiding her head in it and in her folded arms, like someone in the depths of despair. There, with her heart thudding anxiously, she waited.

  There was the clang of bolts being shot back. The door creaked. Then came the rough voice of the grenadier.

  'Sorry, m'lady – time's up.'

  He was answered by a high-pitched sob which did credit to the cardinal's dramatic talents. Then the door shut again and the footsteps died away. Even then, Marianne dared not move. Her whole being was strained, listening while she counted the interminable seconds in time to the laboured beating of her heart. At every moment she expected to hear an angry shout, sounds of a struggle, of voices calling for the guard. In her mind's eye, she followed the progress of the prisoner and his guide. Down the stairs to the first landing, the second flight and then the guardroom – and the door itself.

  She breathed more easily when she heard the heavy boom as it swung to, echoing up from below. Gauthier de Chazay was outside now, but he still had to reach one of the three gates of the Kremlin unrecognized. Fortunately, to judge by the increasing gloom inside the prison, it must be even darker than before outside. It was as well the cell itself was spacious and high-ceilinged or there would have been a real risk of death by suffocation.

  Marianne got up at last and paced a few steps up and down her prison. A puff of acrid smoke caught her throat and made her cough. At that she tore a piece out of her petticoat and, dipping it in the traditional pitcher of water which stood in a corner of the cell, applied it to her burning face. Her heart had been beating so wildly that she felt quite feverish but she forced herself to think calmly.

  It would not be long before they came for the prisoner. What would happen then? They would scarcely do her any actual injury, being a woman, but she would be taken before the Emperor without delay and, for all her courage, she could not help shivering a little at the thought of what lay before her. It was certainly not going to be pleasant. But a man's life, Gauthier de Chazay's above all, was surely worth a little unpleasantness, even if it were to end in prison. It was as well that Jolival had made few difficulties when she disclosed her intention to him. He had even agreed to do as she asked him.

  "You had better be out of the way of the Emperor's wrath,' she had told him. 'Gracchus can arrange to get you out of the Kremlin. You might go back to the Rostopchin Palace – unless the fire spreads so much that you are obliged to quit Moscow. In that case, let us agree to foregather at the first posting house on the road to Paris.'

  With her mind at rest on that score she had paid scant attention to Gracchus's disapproving sniffs, merely remarking that if people could not obey her orders, they had no business in her service. Then, with the matter of her companions satisfactorily dealt with, she had been free to concentrate on the plan of escape which now seemed in a fair way to success.

  The hardest part was going to be the waiting, how to get through the time that must elapse before the escape was discovered. She calculated that the time must be about midday so that, unless the Emperor should decide to evacuate the Kremlin, it might be six or seven hours before anyone entered the cell. Six or seven hours! Six or seven times eternity!

  A lump settled in Marianne's throat and she felt herself a prey to the panic of a small girl locked in a dark cupboard. She wanted desperately to get it over and yet she knew that the longer she was left to endure her torment, the greater the cardinal's chances of escape. She must be patient and, if she could, keep calm.

  Remembering suddenly that she had eaten nothing since the previous night, she went to the niche in the wall where stood the pitcher of water and a crust of bread. But it was her will more than her appetite that forced down a little of the dark, rock-hard bread. She knew that she must keep up her strength, yet she was not conscious of the slightest hunger. On the other hand, the smoke that was creeping into the room rasped her throat and she swallowed half the contents of the pitcher at a draught.

  The heat was becoming uncomfortable and when she approached the narrow slit which did duty as a window she was horrified to see nothing but a mass of flame. The whole southern part of the city must have been on fire. The Kremlin itself might be entirely surrounded. The fire was reflected in the river so that even that seemed to be on fire.

  Still nibbling her piece of bread, she had begun walking slowly back and forth across her prison, partly as a cure for impatience and partly to calm her nerves. But all at once she stopped dead, listening with all her might, while her heart beat a little faster. They were coming. There w
ere men coming up the stairs, making all the characteristic noises of soldiers carrying weapons. Marianne's mind leapt to the conclusion that the hour of the trial had been put forward and they were coming for the prisoner. The Emperor must have decided to abandon the Kremlin.

  She tried feverishly to reconstruct the route the prisoner would have to follow. He must have succeeded in negotiating the fortified perimeter. But she had been so anxious that her estimate of time could have gone very much awry. Had he really had time to reach safety?

  There was a grating of bolts and Marianne stiffened, clasping her hands tightly together until the bones cracked in the way she had when striving to control her feelings. She heard people enter. Then a voice spoke, a very youthful voice but stern and carrying.

  'The court awaits you, Sir. If you will come with me—'

  In such time for thought as her brief imprisonment had allowed her, Marianne had not managed to decide on the right course to pursue when her substitution should be discovered. She was relying wholly upon instinct but, determined to gain as much time as she could, she had withdrawn, at the sound of approaching footsteps, to the darkest corner of her cell, keeping her back to the door.

  Not until she was spoken to did she turn to see, framed in the doorway, a young captain, a stranger to her, and two grenadiers. The captain was slim and fair, straight as a ramrod and rather touching in his dignity. It was clear that he was immensely proud of the mission entrusted to him. It was his moment of glory and he was going to be cruelly disappointed.

  Marianne advanced a few steps into the light that entered from the staircase. Three separate gasps of astonishment greeted her appearance. But by that time Marianne had made her decision. Gathering up her skirts, she darted through the gap between the two soldiers and plunged down the stairs, descending them like lightning before the men could recover from their surprise. She had reached the guardroom before she heard the young captain shouting: 'What the devil! Well, after her, damn you! Don't stand there gawping! Catch her!'