The wanton princess rb-8

by Dennis Wheatley

  For another hour or more he moved gracefully among the throng exchanging platitudes or witticisms with a number of his acquaintances but, all the while, keeping an eye on Count Pahlen. When the young Czar had withdrawn and the Min­ister left the grand salon Roger followed him downstairs and asked him to give him a lift in his carriage.

  As the carriage moved off Roger said gravely, 'Your Excellency; by secret channels, into which we need not enter. I have tonight received a communication from England. It informs mc that my wife has had a serious accident. In the circumstances you will appreciate that I wish to return home with the utmost possible speed, and I beg Your Excellency to assist mc in so doing.'

  The Minister at once expressed his sympathy and willing­ness to help, and they discussed the swiftest means by which Roger could make his journey. St. Petersburg was now ice-free, so if a ship was shortly about to sail it should carry him down to Copenhagen more swiftly than he could reach a German North Sea port by road. As against that, to take a ship was always to gamble with the weather—unfavourable winds might cause as much as a week's delay, and the roads were no longer deep in snow. Moreover, although Roger could not disclose the fact, Paris was his real goal so he meant to head, not for eastern, but for western Germany.

  By the time they reached the Pahlen mansion it had been decided that Roger should travel in a coach, in which he could sleep, and that everything possible should be done to expedite his journey.

  Among the numerous offices the Count held was that of Minister of Posts, so he had no need to seek the assistance of a colleague. While Roger packed, all the arrangements were made. Outriders were to be sent ahead of him to ensure relays of horses being in readiness; a sotnia of Cossacks was to accompany him as protection against the possibility of his being held up by bandits and, finally, the Count provided him with a document stating that he was travelling on the Czar's business which, as long as he was on Russian soil, would give him priority over all other travellers. Having expressed his heartfelt thanks to the Count, he left St. Peters­burg in the early hours of the morning of May 25th on his seventeen-hundred-milc journey.

  For travelling fast he had one great thing in his favour. Along two-thirds of the way. until he entered Germany, the highway would be almost flat: so there would be no infuri­ating delays while the horses were walked up hills or down steep declivities. A team of six drew his coach and for long stretches across the boundless steppes and through silent forests of fir and larch they maintained a steady trot.

  Even so, the journey seemed endless and was broken only at small towns, to change the horses, renew the stock of cold food with which Count Pahlcn had furnished him, and stretch his legs for a quarter of an hour. The Cossacks who formed his escort were hardy, bearded men and their tough little ponies seemed tireless. At times they galloped on for a mile or so ahead of the coach, then dismounted to rest their mounts until it had passed them and covered another mile; but they always kept it in sight and seemed to think nothing of riding a hundred miles or more until they reached a garrison town and were relieved by another troop.

  The coach was well sprung and furnished with many cushions, but in spite of that Roger found its swaying and jolting extremely tiring, and the monotony of being driven hour after hour through the cheerless, almost uninhabited landscape became nearly intolerable. Having been up for some twenty hours before he started he would have liked to get to sleep as soon as they were clear of St. Petersburg; but the motion of the coach kept him awake, and it was not until he had been on his way for another eight hours that he dropped off into an uneasy doze. From then on he slept only when nature overcame his discomfort: sometimes during the day, sometimes at night, but never for more than a few hours at a time.

  When he reached the city of Paskov, he allowed himself to spend two hours at the best inn having a hot meal. Next day they entered Livonia, but the monotony of the countryside remained unchanged. At Dvinsk he again stopped for a proper meal at an inn. Soon after crossing the Dvina river they were in Lithuania, but the endless steppes occasionally broken by dark forests or a small township appeared no different from those he had passed through on preceding days. At Vilna he could stand the interminable swaying and monotony no longer, so spent a night in a reasonably com­fortable bed. There he slept like a log but he had ordered the inn servants to wake him at six the following morning and, still bleary-eyed, stumbled down to the coach which by then he had come to look on as a particularly unpleasant form of prison.

  At Grodno he entered Poland, but since its final partition among Russia, Prussia and Austria in '95. it was no longer an independent country and the city now stood just inside German Poland. Count Pahlen had generously made him a present of the coach, but here he had to part with his coachmen and escort.

  Prussia, having invaded Hanover at the end of March, was now at war with England and, as Alexander had not yet formally withdrawn from the Northern League, still allied to Russia; so as Roger was travelling as a Russian courier, he had no difficulty, after a few hours, in engaging another coachman and outriders.

  Setting off again on his gruelling journey through the still flat lands of Poland he reached Warsaw. There he spent another night in bed, in the morning taking the road to Breslau in Silesia. Two days after passing through it he went to bed to his heartfelt relief in the civilized capital of Saxony. From Dresden onwards there would, at least, be better inns at which to snatch a meal and much greater variety in the scenery. But that had to be paid for by a considerable slowing up of his progress owing to the hilly nature of the country. Maddened by having to get out and walk, at times for a mile or more, while his coach lumbered up steep slopes, when he got to Frankfurt he decided to make the remainder of the journey on horseback.

  He had now entered territory held by the French, so he destroyed his Russian passport and drove to the Head­quarters. After some enquiries there he ran to earth an officer who knew him as Colonel Breuc. He then had no difficulty in disposing of the coach for a good round sum and securing a military permit to use relays of post horses.

  After a good sleep he set off while it was still dark to cover the last two hundred and fifty miles as fast as he possibly could. Breaking his journey only to sleep at Verdun, late on the evening of the second day he rode into Paris. By deter­mination and endurance, and maintaining throughout an average of slightly under five miles an hour, he had per­formed the amazing feat of covering the immense distance between the Russian and French capitals in fourteen and a half days.

  His last tour de force on horseback had left him saddle-sore, aching in every limb and terribly exhausted, but he did not mean to lose an hour of the time he had won. At La Belle Etoile, while a hot bath was being prepared, he revived himself with a pint of champagne, and after his bath he got Maitre Blanchard to massage him vigorously. Then, dressed in his smartest uniform, he had himself carried in a sedan chair to Talleyrand's; for, as Duroc had been sent on a diplomatic mission, it was to the Foreign Minister that he would write any suspicions that he might have about 'Le Colonel Breuc'.

  When the chairmen set him down outside the mansion in the Rue du Bac, he was on the point of falling asleep. With an effort he pulled himself together, dreading this last hurdle he had to face; for if Talleyrand was disengaged it was possible that he would talk to him for a considerable time, and he feared that in his state of utter weariness he might well refer to some recent happening in Northern Europe that the shrewd statesman would at once realize he could not possibly have learned while rusticating in the south of France. But the luck that had carried him so many hundreds of miles without a serious accident or hold-up still held. It chanced that Talleyrand was holding a reception that evening, so Roger had only to mingle with the crowd until the Foreign Minister noticed and came limping gracefully over to him.

  'Cher ami, how very pleasant to see you back in Paris,' he said as Roger bowed to him. Then, raising his quizzing glass and studying Roger's worn face through it he added after a moment, 'But "ve
ntre de St. Gris," as the Great Henry used to say, you look as if that wound you received at Marengo has reduced you to a sorry state.'

  Roger gave him a pale smile, ‘I thank Your Excellency for your concern for me, but 'tis over a year since Marengo and my lung is perfectly recovered. I confess, though, that my powers of endurance are not quite up to what they used to be. As a test of them I've ridden nearly thirty leagues since dawn and have somewhat overdone it. On reaching Paris I should have gone straight to bed: but hearing that Your Excellency was holding a reception this evening I could not forgo the temptation to pay my respecis to you.'

  In fact Roger had ridden nearly fifty leagues, but he had been given a good chance to establish a limit to his capabili­ties. Talleyrand shook his powdered head, 'I marvel that any man should so fatigue himself as to ride so far in a day unless he feared for his life. But no matter. Do me the pleasure of breakfasting with me. Let me see—yes, on Friday next. And now get you to bed.'

  Unutterably relieved to have come so happily through this last ordeal. Roger bowed his thanks, had himself conveyed back to La Belle Etoile and tumbling into bed in his small­clothes, slept the clock round.

  Next day he went to the Tuileries to report his return to Paris, but learned that Bonaparte was somewhere on the Channel coast inspecting garrisons, and was not expected back until the week-end; so he filled in his time by renewing old acquaintances and learning what had been happening in Paris during his absence.

  It was no stale news, but on Christmas Eve, only a few days after Roger had left for England, Bonaparte had narrowly escaped assassination. Accompanied by Lannes, Berthier and Lauriston, and followed by another carriage containing Josephine, her daughter Hortcnse, Caroline Murat and Bessieres, he had been on his way to the Opera to hear the first performance of Haydn's magnificent oratorio of the 'Creation'. While they were passing through the Rue Nicaise a barrel of gunpowder, concealed in a covered wagon at the side of the street, had exploded with a terrific detonation half way between the two carriages. Nearly twenty passers-by had been killed, a great many injured, and the walls of nearby houses had been blown down; but no one in either carriage had been harmed, except that Hortense had received a slight cut on the hand from flying glass as the windows of the car­riage she was in were shattered.

  Bonaparte had gone on to the Opera and displayed an unrulllcd calm throughout, but Bessieres told Roger that on the First Consul's return to the Tuileries his rage had known no bounds. Without a shadow of evidence he declared that it was the Jacobins who had attempted to blow him up, and that he meant to settle with those old extremists once and for all.

  Fouche, who for once had been caught napping, asserted his conviction that it had been a royalist plot. But Bonaparte had shouted him down. Scores of ex-Robespierrists had been arrested and, on January 4th, against considerable opposi­tion, Bonaparte had forced a decree through the Senate that one hundred and thirty of them should be deported. Later, Fouche's investigations proved him right. Two royalists named St. Regent and Carbon had set off the explosion, and were duly executed for their crime. Nevertheless, the innocent Jacobins sent into exile were not reprieved.

  Roger was very amused. Knowing Bonaparte so well, he felt certain that the cunning Corsican had seized upon this opportunity to rid himself of the men he had come to con­sider his worst enemies—the old die-hards of the Revolution who opposed him most violently in his determination to deprive the people of their liberties. For his victims Roger had no sympathy whatever, for they were men such as Rossignol, who had been guilty of some of the most atrocious crimes committed during the Terror.

  The bomb plot had led to Bonaparte's most devoted par­tisans putting about the suggestion that he should be made King of France. They argued that should he be assassinated the Jacobins and Moderates would at once be at one another's throats and their struggle for power lead to another period of bloody strife, whereas if the First Consulship had been converted into a hereditary monarchy his successor would be in a position to continue the regime of law and order that he had established.

  In support of this contention a pamphlet entitled, 'Parallel between Caesar, Cromwell and Bonaparte,' had appeared and many people believed that it had been inspired by the First Consul himself. But he hotly repudiated the suggestion and. reading between the lines, Roger thought it probable that he had put it up as a ballon d'essai: then, when public reaction proved unfavourable, decided that his position was not yet strong enough to attempt such aggrandisement.

  The Treaty of Luneville, forced on Austria in February, had enormously strengthened his position. By it he secured recognition of France's overlordship of all the territory up to the left bank of the Rhine, Belgium, Luxembourg. Holland, Piedmont, the Cisalpine Republic and Liguria; and a month later Naples had been forced to make peace and accept a French garrison.

  Meanwhile Tuscany had been turned into the Kingdom of Etruria and given to the young Duke of Parma. In March the newly-made King and his Queen, the Infanta Maria Louisa, had paid a state visit to Paris. Everyone who had met him declared him to be the next thing to an idiot and completely under Bonaparte's thumb.

  One piece of news that affected Roger more than all the rest was that, after eighteen years as Prime Minister. Pitt had resigned. In March a new government had been formed by Henry Addington, formerly the Speaker of the House. Roger had met him several times and knew him to be an affable man with long experience of political life, but did not regard him as a strong character. Worn out by his long struggle as Pitt might be, Roger hoped that his retirement would not be permanent, but only for a period of rest, as he felt that no one could replace him as a leader.

  It was not until he breakfasted with Talleyrand that he learned what had led to the fall of Pitt's government. There were present two other guests: Roederer, a politician and economist who had played a leading part in the Liberal Revolution of '89, gone into hiding during the Terror and since become one of Bonaparte's principal advisers, and Cambaceres, the Second Consul. The latter was a famous gourmet and also so great a glutton that out of the head of his own dining table he had had a semi-circle cut to accom­modate his huge paunch: so it was, no doubt, on his account that the dishes served at this breakfast would have been more appropriate to a banquet.

  The talk was at first of Spain and an expedition that was now being planned to go to America. In the time of Louis XIV the French had established settlements in Louisiana but by the Treaty of Paris in 1763 had yielded them to Spain; and twenty years later Spain had recovered from England the province of Florida. Since then the Spaniards had ruled the whole vast territory from Mexico north to California, and across the Mississippi aid the Missouri to the Atlantic ocean.

  After the break-up of the First Coalition in '95 and the defeat of Spain, France had endeavoured to get back her old territories, but Godoy, King Carlos's Prime Minister and the lover of his Queen, had stoutly resisted. Then, in the previous October, Bonaparte had again raised the matter and brought pressure to bear on the King. This had resulted in a secret deal by which Carlos agreed to cede Louisiana in return for Bonaparte making the King's son-in-law King of Etruria.

  Meanwhile it had emerged that it was Lucien who had been the author of ihe Caesar, Cromwell. Bonaparte pam­phlet. He had. from being a rabid King-hater, so altered his views that he now wished to see his brother made King, in the hope that he would be appointed his successor. When the mole-like Fouche had produced evidence that Lucien Bona­parte was the author, Napoleon had been so furious at this premature attempt to promote a monarchy that he had packed him off to Spain to prevent him from making further trouble in France, and with orders to overcome Godoy's continued resistance.

  As Ambassador at the Court of Madrid in March, Lucien had forced the Minister to resign. There had followed the Treaty of St. Idlefonso by which Spain not only gave up Louisiana to France but also undertook to make war on Portugal unless she closed her ports to British shipping

  Roger had already learned t
hat the expedition to India had never matured, and as he had never been to America he felt reasonably confident that Bonaparte would not attempt to send him to Louisiana. As soon as he could find an opening he turned the conversation to England.

  Talleyrand smiled across at him, "About affairs there I am now particularly well informed; as. apart from my normal secret sources. I now have an official representative in London. Perhaps you have met him—one Monsieur Otto?'

  Shaking his head, Roger replied. 'No, and since we are still at war with Englard I am much surprised... '

  'We may not be for much longer,' Talleyrand cut him short cheerfully. 'Otto, of course, has not the status of an Ambassador; but since the Peace of Lunevillc and Mr. Pitt's resignation the English have become much more tractable. They agreed to my sending Otto over to arrange an exchange of prisoners.'

  'Since Your Excellency is so well informed and I've not heard the reason for Mr. Pitt's retirement I'd much like to know it.'

  ' 'Twas due to a disagreement between him and King George on a question of religion. Fearful of another rebellion in Ireland, he has for some years hoped to engender a greater loyalty in the Irish people by incorporating their government with that of Britain and giving them some share in it. Politically he succeeded, by putting through an Act of Union at the opening of this year, but that did not get to the heart of the matter because Catholics were still debarred from becoming Members of Parliament. Although 'tis said that he made no public promise, there can be little doubt that he bought the consent of the Irish leaders to this Union by giving them to believe that he would later put through a Bill eman­cipating all Catholics from the disabilities they have suffered for so long. His Cabinet was behind him in this wise and humane measure, but the King would have none of it. He maintained that his consent to such a Bill would violate his oath to uphold the Protestant constitution.'