Duval and the Empress's Crown (Napoleon's Police Book 5)

by Michele McGrath

  “What this?” he asked startled.

  “You’ll need the letter. The purse is my excuse for making them chase me,” I said.

  At the end of the palace arcade, a narrow street ran down to the river. It had several alleys leading behind some tall houses. As we came near the exit from the gardens, Lefebvre asked,

  “Now?”

  “Now!”

  He strolled sideways into a group of people. I hung back and shouted, “Stop thief!” I turned to my left down one of the small passages that led into the Rue de la Loi. I started to run as fast as I could. Startled people parted to let me go. I pounded through the crowd, ducking under arms and around those who had not been fast enough to get out of my way. The smooth pavement ceased and the cobbles began, making it much harder to keep my balance. I am not sure exactly where I went as I twisted through the streets. I had the satisfaction of hearing several footsteps running after me. It was not long though before my pursuers caught up with me. Someone snatched at my arm and dragged me into an alleyway.

  “Let me go, he’s getting away! He’s got my purse,” I shouted with as much desperation as I could put into my voice. My breath was whistling through my teeth and my lame leg was shaking, but I tried to pull away as if I wanted to continue the chase.

  “I don’t see anyone.”

  “He’s down there I tell you! Ahead of me!”

  “Who?”

  “A lad who robbed me.”

  “Go and see,” someone said and footsteps hurried away. “More likely you’re a thief yourself.”

  Rough hands pushed me up against a wall, banging my head so the world darkened for an instant. Other hands searched me. Bodies pressed against me, some with foul breath. I tried to count them. Three were with me. Where were the others? I tried not to fight or squirm. I had nothing to hide from them and hoped to keep them occupied while Lefebvre escaped. Eventually they stopped.

  “Naught on him.”

  A man came back down the alley to where I was standing. He must have run ahead in search of my imaginary thief.

  “No one’s gone that way. This fellow’s lied.”

  “I haven’t,” I protested. “He took my purse. Search me again. You won’t find it on me. A skinny lad. I felt his hand and then he ran off. If you hadn’t stopped me, I’d have had him, damn you all to hell.”

  “We’re wasting time,” another voice said and there was authority in his tone. “He’s not got it. Who was the fellow with him?”

  “Don’t know but Bonnet and Morel followed him.”

  Something swung up in the darkness. I caught its flicker against the stars and started to duck. Then I had a pain in my head and dirt choked my mouth and nose. I could hardly breathe. I pushed myself away from the filth and sneezed. I thought the top of my head was coming off. Arms seized me and I was pulled to my feet. Something wet was spilled on my front and I smelled raw spirits.

  “He’s a friend who has drunk too much and we’re taking him home. Go and find a hack.”

  I was in no shape to resist and anyway it was better to be in the lighted streets than in a dark alley where murder might happen more easily. I let the hands guide me, while I concentrated on the pain in my head, which seemed to get worse rather than better with every step. I had no will of my own. I could not have run away nor fought. I just wanted to lie down and sleep. When we reached the lights of the torches though, I squinted at the faces of the men who had attacked me. I almost gasped as I recognised another of them. The majordomo was there but so was Saint Vincent, the equerry who the Emperor was apparently searching for. He must have been in Élisa’s when Baciocchi arrived and discovered the crown was gone. He looked murderous. I wondered why he had allowed me to come out of the encounter relatively unscathed. He said something to one of the servants holding me. Suddenly a dagger pricked me in the ribs.

  “This way.” I was led towards a rank of hackneys, having little choice in the matter. The three of us climbed into the nearest carriage and Saint Victor followed. At that point I thought about throwing myself through the far door of the coach. Saint Victor must have read my mind. The knife pricked harder and I felt a small steak of blood snake down my side. I sat down carefully.

  “The Hôtel Baciocchi,” Saint Victor ordered and the carriage started with a jerk.

  Once we were moving, said, “Take his sword off him.”

  One of the lackeys unbuckled my sword belt and handed it to him.

  “You are interfering with an officer of the law,” I murmured, in a shaky voice.

  “Your word against mine and all these witnesses. I say you are a thief who should be treated as a thief.”

  “What do you want with me?”

  “To find the item you took from my mistress’s boudoir. You will tell me where it is.”

  “What item? I have never been in the Princess’s bedroom. What a thought!”

  “You lie,” one of the other fellows said. “There is a piece of ivy caught under your collar and I saw you going out of the garden gate, you and another man. I was too far away to stop you but I followed.”

  “Where is the fellow who was with you?” Saint Victor asked, and the knife pricked again. I could not help myself squirming away from the point.

  “How should I know? I parted from him at the Palais de l’Égalité, as you must have seen for yourself.”

  “If you don’t know where he is, you know where he is going,” Saint Victor said softly. “And make no mistake, you will tell me everything.”

  He said no more for several minutes and I wondered whether Lefebvre had yet had time to take our prize to the Emperor. While Saint Victor was concerning himself with me, I hoped Lefebvre would have his chance unmolested.

  The carriage came to a stop and I got down with the rest. Saint Victor and his dagger never leaving my side. I was taken into the hôtel and found myself in a small room on the main floor, towards the back of the house. Saint Victor’s men followed us in.

  “Take off his coat and tie him to that chair,” Saint Victor ordered.

  I was thrust into a chair with wooden arms and tied fast.

  “You know what I need,” he said when his men had finished. “I don’t have time for niceties. Tell me or I will make you.”

  I am not a brave man and at that moment I could see no way that I would come out of the situation with a whole skin. Yet my temper had risen and I had no intention of making his job easy.

  “Why should I?” I asked. “I have seen your faces and I can betray you to the Emperor. You cannot afford to let me live. Why should I tell you anything?”

  “Tell me and your death will be swift. We are both soldiers and have faced death before. The longer you hold out, the more pain you will experience before the end.” Saint Victor bent forward and drew his knife lightly down the side of my cheek. It stung and a trickle of blood ran down my face.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” I said and he frowned. He hit me with the back of his hand, knocking the chair backwards and me with it. The room darkened as my head collided with something hard. I dimly felt blows on my arms and my legs, or at least I thought they did. Certainly I awoke with a scream as someone’s boot connected with the wound in my side. Then I wished I hadn’t. Saint Victor and his men clustered around me, punching as hard as they could. I had no chance to avoid them for I was still tied up and flat on my back. Eventually I was hauled upright.

  “Had enough?” Saint Victor asked. I wondered how long this had all taken and whether Lefebvre had managed to take the crown to the palace. Surely by now he must have done. Did I want to prolong this or get it over with? It is never pleasant to be beaten, but I have had worse in my life before, twice in the army and once in the Police. Saint Victor might have been a soldier but he did not know how to fight. My former sergeant would have murdered him. If I weakened and gave them what they wanted, my usefulness would be over and they would certainly kill me. For a second Eugénie’s beautiful face hovered in front of my eyes. If I died
, she would be a widow but I was not dead yet. Although my lips were swollen, I twisted them into a grin and murmured,

  “No.”

  “Go and fetch a whip and a hot poker,” Saint Vincent ordered and two of the men surrounding me left the room. Nothing more happened for a few moments. I lay still, trying to prepare myself for whatever they would do to me next, which would undoubtedly be extremely nasty.

  Suddenly pistol shots rang out. Both Saint Vincent and the majordomo dropped writhing to the floor.

  “Hold, if you value your life,” said a familiar voice.

  I twisted my head to see Lefebvre with one leg over the sill, another man was grinning behind him. In seconds they were both in the room. A heavy table was jammed against the door, so the people in the hall who had heard the shot could not get in. My bonds were cut. The unknown manhandled me out of the window while Lefebvre tied up the two injured men. He cast a dismissive eye over them.

  “They’ll live,” he announced. “My aim must be getting worse.”

  Everything happened so fast that no one had yet thought to run round to the outside of the house. When they did, we were shadows in the distance. Both Lefebvre and his friend kept their arms around me and were virtually carrying me along. Left alone, I doubt I would have gone far. We weaved our way through the backstreets until Lefebvre stopped and pulled me into a malodorous doorway. We climbed a flight of stairs with difficulty and he banged on a door.

  “Suzette, let us in.”

  The door opened, followed by a rush of cheap perfume. An older woman with tired eyes and highly painted cheeks stood to one side for us to enter the room, almost all of which was taken up by a large bed. It was not hard to guess her profession.

  “What’s happened to him, Jean?”

  “A fight,” Lefebvre muttered as he sat me on the bed and stripped off my shirt and breeches, looking at my injuries.

  “Bruises, sore ribs, small cuts but not much else.” He sighed with relief. “Get me some warm water, Chérie,” he said to Suzette. “Where’s the brandy?”

  “No time,” I muttered. “We must get it to the Tuileries.”

  “It’s on its way. Should be there already, with luck.”

  “You gave it to someone else?” I almost screamed. If I had control of my legs, I would have shot to my feet and throttled him. As it was, I rose a few centimetres from the bed and he easily pushed me back down again.

  “Keep still. I gave it to the one person in the world you would trust with your life. With luck she is handing it to Napoléon at this very moment.”

  “Who?” I was stupid enough to ask although I already knew the answer.

  “Eugénie, of course.”

  14

  10 Frimaire, Year XIII

  (Saturday, December 1, 1804)

  “You fool. How could you put her into such danger?”

  “I haven’t. Shut up and drink this while I make you look more presentable. She’ll faint if she sees you in this condition.” He thrust a glass full of brandy into my hand and helped me lift it to my lips. It stung the broken skin but it ran like a path of fire into my insides. I choked and then smiled. Eugénie is made of sterner stuff and has seen me after fights before.

  “How did you get it to her?” I asked. Our apartment is a long way from the Palais de l’Égalité. Even with a swift carriage, he could never have made it there and back in the short time that had elapsed since we parted company.

  “I was crossing the courtyard when I realised that Leroy’s was still illuminated and I remembered that she worked there. I wanted to get back to you so I decided to find out if she was inside. Don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t been. The room was full of women stitching hard and talking harder. At first they would not let me in, but as soon as they saw the Emperor’s authorisation, everything changed like magic. Even Leroy was impressed and made no objection to me stealing away his staff. This is François, by the way, one of his porters. He volunteered to help me find you.”

  “It sounded like more fun than carrying bales of silks,” the young man said, speaking for the first time.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I hope it was.”

  “I spoke to Eugénie and told her I needed to get back to you.” Lefebvre continued. “I gave her the bauble and the authorisation. Then I put her into a hack for safety. Old Tomas, her friend, insisted on going with her and taking another of the porters when I told him how important it was. They will be able to tell you what happened next. As soon as I had seen them off, François and I ran back to find you. We were in the Rue de la Loi when I spotted you being bundled into a carriage. We found one for ourselves and followed. You were taken back to Élisa’s, of course. We’d have been there sooner if the horse had been younger.”

  “You might have saved me a few more bruises if you had, but you saved my life instead. The bastards were going to kill me.” I gave him a hug.

  “We’re even again then,” Lefebvre said with a grin.

  At that moment, Suzette, who had been rummaging in an old corner press, came forward and pushed him aside.

  “Let me.”

  She anointed my injuries with some liquid that smelt vile and rapidly bound up my wounds, pulling the bandages round my chest tight.

  “You’re good.” I said.

  “I’ve had practice. Let me look at your face.” She caught hold of my chin, turning my face this way and that, while she surveyed the damage.

  “Your lip is cut and your right eye is closing,” she said.

  “I know that!”

  “I’ll do the best I can but you won’t be pretty for a while.”

  “If ever,” Lefebvre muttered. “Nothing new there.”

  She rubbed various creams into my skin and finished it off with face powder of all things as if I was some grandee from the olden times.

  “There!”

  “Better,” Lefebvre said. I heard the sound of tinkling coins followed by a kiss.

  “Thank you,” I said as Lefebvre hauled me to my feet.

  We left the apartment and Lefebvre cautiously put his head around the front door.

  “No one’s about. Come on.”

  We walked in the shadows of the ill lit street. I was still wobbly but at least I could now stumble along. I did not think we were in any danger. Saint Vincent was out of action for a while and we seemed to have lost the rest of our pursuers. The crown, with luck, was in the Emperor’s hands and our story told. No point in attacking us now, except for revenge. I imagined the culprits were too busy working out their excuses for Napoléon rather than bother with such insignificant people as us for the time being. Nevertheless I was sufficiently rattled to be worried.

  “What now, Soldier?” Lefebvre asked.

  “The Tuileries. I want to see if Eugénie got there safely.”

  “She’ll be long gone and home by now,” Lefebvre objected.

  “It’s nearer than my apartment and the captain of the guard can tell us what happened.”

  So we went to the Tuileries, which was ablaze with lights. The sound of dance music wafted on the cold night air. The ball was still going on. At first one of the guards refused to fetch his superior officer to talk to us until Lefebvre thrust the Emperor’s authorisation under his nose. Then the man glanced at me and scuttled off to call his captain, who was making his rounds.

  “Who are you and what do you want?”

  I showed him the authorisation and asked him whether a coach had come from Leroy’s bearing a woman and two men who had asked to see the Emperor. His face changed.

  “How do you know that?” he barked at me.

  “The woman is my wife,” I said. “She brought a package for the Emperor. Did they both arrive safely?”

  “They did.” He looked at me strangely. “Is your name Duval?”

  “It is.”

  “I have orders about you. You are to come with me.”

  He started to walk away and we all followed him. He stopped.

  “Not y
ou two,” he said to Lefebvre and François. “I have been told nothing about you.”

  “Where are you taking him?” Lefebvre asked.

  “The Emperor told me that if Duval arrived, he was to be taken to him immediately.” Lefebvre and I looked at each other. François had a longing look on his face as he gazed at the lights of the palace and listened to the music. Both of them deserved some reward for their actions, not just me. I hoped that was why the Emperor wanted to see me. If it was for a reprimand, Lefebvre would kill me for including him in the censure.

  “My companions have been helping me with a task the Emperor gave me,” I told the captain. “They know things that I don’t. The Emperor will surely want to question them as well. They can wait in an anteroom until they are needed. Then you won’t need to search for them. If the Emperor does not want to see them, nothing is lost.”

  The captain stood for a moment looking at me and then nodded.

  “Come with me, all of you.” He called on two of his men to accompany us and kept his hand on the hilt of his sword. He was not taking any chances with such a disreputable bunch of people as we appeared to be. I could not help grinning. I would have done exactly the same when I was in the army.

  We followed a different route than the one we had taken with Fouché, but we arrived in the Emperor’s bureau just the same. With half Paris dancing in his ballroom and the other half celebrating throughout the city, Napoléon had chosen to spend the evening before his coronation at work.

  The captain spoke to one of the secretaries who was sitting at a desk in the anteroom. The man rose, knocked at the door and announced,

  “Monsieur Duval is here, Sire.”

  “Tell him to come in.”

  I left Lefebvre and François with the secretary and I went in, acutely conscious of my battered face and torn clothes.