The wanton princess rb-8

by Dennis Wheatley

  'I pray it may not come to that. But I must hit you on the head to render you unconscious for a while; and should your skull prove thin such a blow could make an end of you.'

  Mr. Pitt did not lack courage. Coming to his feet, he held out his hand and said sharply, 'Mr. Brook, give me back that ruler.'

  'Nay. I'll not do that unless you agree my terms unreser­vedly. And, for your skull's sake, heed this warning. Do you raise your voice above normal, or make the least motion towards your bell, I'll strike you down without further parley."

  'What are your terms?'

  'That you should sit down again and write three brief documents. One, a paper for the officers downstairs stating that you have freed me from arrest. Two, an order to the Admiralty to have me transported back to France. Three, an acknowledgment that without just cause and for your own private ends you had me imprisoned in the Tower of London for a week.'

  'Never! Your demands are outrageous.'

  'It is through your own folly that I am compelled to make them. Had you allowed me to proceed to France without interference instead of acting against me as though I intended to become a traitor....'

  'You gave every indication that you might become one,' the Prime Minister broke in angrily. ' 'Twas clear to me that this ruffian Bonaparte had bewitched you. Once you had broken your ties with England, as you said you meant to do, the fascination he holds for you would have led you into becoming an enemy of your country, and a most dangerous one.'

  'There you wrong me grievously. Having played a double game for so long, why should you consider me incapable of continuing to do so? I said only that I was no longer willing to act as a secret agent for you. It docs not in the least follow that I would not aid the cause of England should an oppor­tunity arise. And it well may. Britain and France are both nearly exhausted, and I am convinced that the time is not far distant when they must agree a peace. When that time comes, having the ear of Talleyrand and Bonaparte there is at least a possibility that I may influence them a little into giving us more generous terms than they at first had a mind to do.'

  Mr. Pitt frowned, 'I will admit that view of the matter had not occurred to me. Very well, then. I withdraw my objec­tion. You may return to France. But in no circumstances will I sign a paper admitting that I had you imprisoned without just cause. I did so in the belief that it was for the protection of the safety of the realm.'

  'In that I believe you. Nevertheless, you must do as I require,' Roger replied firmly. 'You have made it clear that up till a few minutes ago you had lost faith in my integrity. How can I be sure that your trust in me is fully restored, that you will not after all prevent me from going back to France by having me again arrested before I can leave the country? Only your admission that you had me falsely imprisoned will protect me against that.'

  'I'll not give it you!' snapped the Prime Minister. 'I'll see you damned first.'

  'Then you leave me no alternative but to strike you down and. leaving you either dead or unconscious, make my escape by way of the garden.'

  ' 'Twould be the act of a madman. What hope could you then have of getting back to France? Within a few hours, on learning of such a brutal assault, every man in southern England would be on the look out to apprehend you.'

  Roger gave a grim smile, 'You sadly under-estimate my resourcefulness. I'd not attempt to cross the Channel. I'd go only as far as Brooks' Club and seek sanctuary there. In that hotbed of your political enemies I'd tell my tale, then write it and give it to the newshawks for publication. Later I might hang for having attacked you. But, by God, the story of your having abused your powers to imprison a law-abiding subject would bring about your ruin. You would be hounded from the House.'

  For a long moment the Prime Minister stared at this ter­rible antagonist whom he had made into an enemy. Then he sat down at his desk.

  Two days later a British sloop under a flag of truce landed Roger in France.

  4

  The Rebirth of a Nation

  Late in the evening of February 17th Roger arrived at La Belle Etoile. a commodious hostelry no great distance from the Louvre. He had long made it his headquarters while in Paris, and its proprietors, the Blanchards, were old and trusted friends. They had first known him as a young assis­tant secretary to the Marquis de Rochambeau, seen him blossom into an elegant Chevalier who made one of Queen Marie Antoinette's circle at Versailles, given him shelter while he had lived in Paris disguised as a ragged, filthy sans culotte and. more recently, felt honoured that now, as a Colonel A.D.C. to the First Consul, he should continue to live at their inn rather than seek the more luxurious quarters that he could well afford.

  Maitre Blanchard greeted him with enthusiasm and took him at once into the private parlour, in which he had enjoyed many a good meal cooked by Madame. As the stalwart Norman landlord relieved him of his steeple-crowned hat and heavy, many-caped grey travelling coat, that portly lady said, 'You must be tired and hungry. Monsieur le Colonel. Sit you by the fire while I order your old room to be got ready and our biggest warming pan put in the bed. Then I'll make you

  your favourite omelette with mushrooms and half a dozen eggs.'

  Blanchard nodded his round head, on which the fair hair was now thinning. 'Go to it, wife, while I get up two bottles of good full-bodied Burgundy wine with which to celebrate the return of our distinguished guest.'

  A quarter of an hour later Roger was attacking the huge omelette with zest, while Blanchard was giving him the news of the day. 'You cannot imagine,' he said, 'how greatly the state of things has been bettered here during the seven weeks you have been away. The First Consul has proved himself a miracle worker and is bringing order out of the chaos we have suffered for so long. Whereas for many winters half Paris has nearly starved, food is now plentiful and reasonable in price. There are no longer queues outside the bakers' shops, property is again respected and the streets have become safe, even at dead of night.’

  'That is good news indeed,' Roger replied. 'And what of the new Constitution? Has it yet been passed?'

  'Not yet, but it should be soon. There can be little doubt of that, for General Bonaparte's popularity is now immense.'

  The coup d'etat of Brumaire had taken place on November 9th. On the 11th Bonaparte, the Abbe Sieyes and his crony Roger Ducos had been appointed provisional Consuls and the sittings of the Legislative Assembly had been suspended pending the passing of a new Constitution. By December 13th its form .had been agreed and the sanction of the people to its acceptance asked in a national plebiscite. On that day too Bonaparte had succeeded in getting rid of his troublesome colleagues and having them replaced by Cambaceres and Lebrun.

  This new instrument of government, known as 'The Con­stitution of the Year VIII.' was to consist of two Chambers: the Tribunate which could propose new laws but could not pass them, and a Legislative Assembly which had no power to initiate new legislation, but was to debate the measures put forward by the Tribunate and either pass or reject them. Superior to both, there was to be a Senate of conservative cider statesmen, whose function it was to appoint the members of both Chambers. Finally, on December 26th, the day Roger had left for England, the Consuls had announced the formation of yet another Body, that had not been men­tioned in the Constitution. This was a Council of State, to consist of not more than forty members: Generals. Admirals, lawyers and others who had distinguished themselves either before or during the Revolution. Its powers had not been stated but Roger, knowing Bonaparte so well, at once foresaw that before long he would rule through it, and the Chambers be reduced to no more than debating societies in which the members could air their opinions.

  Tired after his long and uncomfortable journey from the coast, as soon as he had finished his meal Roger thanked the honest couple, asked them to excuse him and went to bed.

  Next morning he unpacked one of the trunks that were always kepi for him at La Belle Etoile and donned his fine uniform with its gold epaulettes and the special sash of an A.D.C.. wh
en he went out to call on Monsieur de Talleyrand. On his way to the Foreign Minister's he saw that, whereas when he had left Paris the streets had been filthy with litter, they were now clean and that the people in them, instead of having a sullen and often furtive look, were going about their business briskly with cheerful faces. These signs were the best possible evidence of the success of the measures that Bonaparte was taking.

  On his return from exile in America, Talleyrand had at once resumed his old life as a grand seigneur, and now lived in a big mansion in the Rue du Bac. His major-domo received Roger as an old friend of his master's, said he would send in his name at once and showed him into a handsomely furnished room where a dozen people were waiting on the pleasure of the Minister. But Roger was there only for a few minutes, then the major-domo returned and conducted him across the hull to another room where Talleyrand was sitting, still at breakfast. With his usual charming manners he rose and invited Roger to join him. Roger had already break­fasted but he cheerfully accepted a good portion of truffled vol-au-vent and a glass of Chateau Lafitte.

  Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Perigord was now forty-six. His grandfather had been a Prince de Chalais, so he was descended from one of the greatest families of ancient France. As the eldest son of a Marquis he should have inherited the title and estates but a careless servant had dropped him while still an infant, causing an injury to his right leg that, through lack of proper attention, had made him lame for life. This rendered a military career impossible; so his father had disin­herited him in favour of a younger brother and forced him, much against his will, to go into the Church. Embittered by this, in '89 he had enthusiastically embraced the movement to curtail the authority of the Monarchy and nobility, and had become one of the most prominent leaders of the Liberal Revolution. When the National Assembly had repudiated the rule of Rome and sought to establish instead an independent Church in France, he had been the first Bishop to transfer his allegiance to it; but since his return from exile he had given up even the pretence of being a priest, and certainly no man could have been less fitted for such a role.

  Handsome, elegant, witty, brilliantly intelligent, and he dressed always as a layman in the richest silks and satins, he had from the age of sixteen devoted himself to a life of debauchery. Many of the most beautiful women at the Court of Versailles, and most of those in Paris who had graced the salons during the dissolute period of the Directory, had been his mistresses. He was a cynic of the first order and venal to the last degree, having, since he had become Foreign Min­ister, amassed a great fortune in bribes. But he was already proving himself to be the greatest statesman of his age.

  Unfailingly courteous, preserving always an unruffled calm, graceful in movement despite his limp, he was an aristocrat to his finger tips. His slightly retrousse nose gave his face an autocratic look, but humour lurked in his grey-blue eyes under their heavy lids, and his deep voice was beautifully modulated.

  As Roger took his seat at table, Talleyrand asked, 'Well,

  Monsieur L’Ambassadeur, what news out of England? Do you bring Peace in your pocket?'

  Roger now had reason to thank his stars both that he had sent Broussalt ahead of him with an interim report and later been imprisoned in the Tower for a week. The first had conveyed the information that the British Cabinet was averse to peace, the second had given time enough for particulars to have reached France that the attack by the Opposition on Pitt had failed to bring about the fall of his Government. With a smile he replied:

  'Your spies, Monsieur le Ministre, must be a sadly ineffi­cient lot if they have allowed you to suppose that I might have. It must be some days now since you learned how Mr. Pitt scattered the friends of peace like chaff before him in the debate on February 3rd.'

  'Yes. He surpassed himself. One cannot but admire the man, ostrich-like though he has now become about realities.'

  'True. 1 doubt though whether the First Consul will accept that as an excuse for my failure; and I am preparing myself with such fortitude as I can for him to order me to be bastinadoed.'

  'Knowing how ill he takes any thwarting of his plans I think that in normal circumstances you might well fear to lose your epaulettes. But you are notoriously lucky, and your luck is certainly in that it should be today you must face him. The result of the plebiscite has at last come to hand. The voting was three million, eleven thousand and seven in favour of adopting the Constitution and only one thousand, five hundred and twenty six against.'

  Roger looked up quickly, 'What staggering figures. No man can ever have had a more overwhelming testimony to the nation's confidence in him.'

  'Yes, it is a veritable triumph; the more so as, against my advice, no attempt was made to rig the polls. Naturally, he is overjoyed; so I do not think you will suffer even a temporary eclipse from the radiance of our new Soleil.'

  'You comfort me greatly. I had feared at least a period of some months before he would again wish to see me about him. And your comparison of him with the sun is apt. He has already brought light and cheerfulness into the streets of Paris. It has become a different city since I left it.'

  That is no wonder; for he keeps us as busy as a whole hive of bees, working up to sixteen hours a day and every day issuing a dozen or more new ordinances. Moreover he loves his work, even singing at it in that awful voice of his. Nothing escapes him and he has a finger in every pie. One moment he is arranging for the formation of a National Bank of France to support trade; at another striking the anniver­sary of the death of Louis XVI and other holidays from the list of public festivals, so that more work will get done, the next planning a vast system of free education for all. Did you know that last year there were no more than twenty four Elementary Schools in Paris and they could take only one thousand pupils? There is no limit to the schemes that jostle one another in his fertile brain.'

  'I can well believe you. But, well informed though he is on many subjects, I would have thought that he knew little about such matters as finance and education.'

  While pouring Roger and himself another glass of wine, Talleyrand replied. 'That is so; but he is an amazingly quick learner. He attends nearly every meeting of the Council of State, listens avidly to everyone there whose experience of a subject entitles him to express an opinion, and only after­wards takes a decision. Neither is he too proud to accept advice from his Ministers. In that Fouche and I are specially favoured: for he decided that, unlike the others, who are required to carry their problems to all three Consuls, Police matters and Foreign Affairs should be discussed by us with him alone. Each time I see him he welcomes me warmly, and he has given m; the opportunity to coach him for many hours on international relationships.'

  'Then your position with him must be an exceptionally strong one.' Roger smiled, 'and I congratulate you on it.'

  'Thanks, my dear fellow. It is certainly most satisfactory. Of course, his impetuous nature gets the better of him at times. But I have a remedy for that. My congenital idleness is known to you, and on occasion I make use of it. When he orders me to take some measure on which I think his judg­ment to be at fault I leave the matter unattended for a few days. By the time I broach it again he has almost always realized that to pursue it would be folly, and he saves his face by telling me to hold it over. Then no more is said of it.'

  Roger laughed, 'I count him fortunate, Monsieur le Ministre, to have you in his service. With your guidance he should do great things for France.'

  Talleyrand shrugged, 'If he lasts a year he will go far.'

  'Surely you cannot doubt his lasting that long?' Roger said, much surprised. 'This overwhelming vote of confidence from the French people shows them to have taken him to their hearts.'

  'The memory of the public is extraordinarily short. They will lionize a man one month and his opponent the next. In any case, should they still be loyal to him, their feelings will be of no account, because real power is never vested in the masses. Bonaparte has many enemies, and they may combine to pull him down.'
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  'I can well believe that several of his fellow Generals are mightily jealous of him.'

  'That is so: Moreau. Bernadotte and Massena particularly. But that is not his greatest danger. It lies in the fact that he has secretly abandoned the principles of the Revolution, yet at the same time is averse to a restoration of the Monarchy. Both factions will in due course seek to destroy him: the one because the Jacobins will find out that he has nothing but detestation and contempt for their doctrine of equality, the other because they will wish to replace him by a coup d'etat with some other prominent man more likely to invite Louis XVIII to ascend the throne.'

  'He is, then, walking a tightrope.'

  'Exactly. And with commendable skill. He displayed it in his selection of his two fellow Consuls. Cambaceres was a member of the Convention which sent Louis XVI to the guillotine, Lebrun, on the other hand, played no part in the

  Terror and is believed to be, in secret, a Royalist. Again, observe his choice of his two most prominent Ministers. It was reported to me that he remarked to his brother Joseph "What revolutionary would not have confidence in an order of things where Fouche is a Minister? And what gentleman would not expect to find existence possible under a former Bishop such as Talleyrand?"

  'Since he has made such a promising start, more's the pity that the war should continue, at least with England, and so divert his attention from the reforms he is undertaking.'

  'With Austria too. Owing, no doubt, to the recent successes of his armies in Italy, the Emperor Francis has refused our offer to treat on the basis reached at Campo Formio. But matters might be worse. That timid, spineless creature, young Frederick William of Prussia, is more than ever enamoured of neutrality, so will continue to sit upon the fence; and the Czar Paul has recently withdrawn from the Coalition. It is our good fortune that he became disgruntled by the Emperor's treatment of the Army sent under Suvarov to aid the Austrians in Italy, and still more so at the mishandling by that stupid Duke of York of the Russian expeditionary force sent last autumn to Holland, which led to the surrender of the Allied forces there. We are now intent on wooing the Czar, and should we succeed in winning him over to us we'll cook the Austrian goose between two fires.’