Roger shrugged, 'You must admit that I have never failed you yet in any task you have set me.'
'That I admit.'
'Then why not appoint me Ambassador to some country, or make me your Pro-Consul in one of the territories under your rule?'
'There you certainly have an idea. But where? Yes, I have it. You speak English like a native and know the habits of those barbarous people well. When I have conquered their fog-ridden country I could make you Pro-Consul there.'
It was Roger's belief that Napoleon would never succeed in conquering Britain but, if Fate decreed that he should, whoever he appointed Pro-Consul there would have enormous powers for good or ill. Hateful as was the thought of ruling one's fellow countrymen in the name of a foreign power, Roger realized that in such a situation he could greatly alleviate the sufferings of the people and might, by skilful planning, even succeed in restoring their freedom.
As the proferred appointment would be a princely one, he said at once, 'Mon General, I am overwhelmed by your generosity. In such a situation I could give of my very best in serving you. But we have not conquered England yet. In the meantime, what are your wishes with regard to myself?'
'Madame Leclerc is only recently a widow. It would be most indecorous for her to marry again before her year of mourning is up, and that will not be until November.'
'That I appreciate,' Roger replied. 'I assume then for the next few months you will desire me to continue as your liaison officer with Berthier on the invasion project?'
Napoleon considered for a moment, then he said, 'No. If you are to act as Pro-Consul you will have command of all the forces that I may decide to leave in Britain to garrison the island and keep down its population. For that you should have knowledge of many matters of which you have so far had no experience—the strategic placing of units, the allocation of quarters, the distribution of supplies and rations, the state of health of your men and so on. You should, therefore, qualify for at least the rank of General of division. I think I will send you to Davoust. He is an extremely conscientious and competent General. With your quick mind, you will learn under him in a comparatively short time how to become a real soldier. Go now, and send Meneval in to me, so that I can dictate a letter informing Davoust of my wishes concerning you.'
In a stale of high elation Roger bowed himself out of the steamy bathroom. Contrary to his expectations his master had not roared with rage and put him under arrest. Instead he had raised no objection to his A.D.C. marrying his beautiful sister. True, it meant a four-month separation, which Pauline would take hard, but that was a small price to pay for such a great reward.
Presently Meneval emerged from the bathroom, sat down at a desk outside, penned the letter from the notes he had taken, sanded and sealed it, then handed it to Roger with a formal bow. 'The First Consul's orders are that you are to horse at once and deliver this personally into the hand of General Davoust.'
Roger returned the bow and marched off down the corridor. He thought il a little inconsiderate of Napoleon not to give him at least twenty-four hours in which to have a last meeting with Pauline and tell her the splendid news; but he was used to his master considering a matter, deciding upon it, issuing his orders, expecting them to be obeyed immediately and dismissing the matter from his mind.
Back at La Belle Etoile, while his servant was packing his things and their horses were being saddled, he wrote Pauline a note. Being by long habit cautious, just in case his letter fell into the wrong hands, he did not like to put in writing that, although they must keep it secret, they were now virtually engaged, then go into rhapsodies about what the future held for them. Instead he wrote:
'I have seen him. All has gone beyond belief well. But I must qualify myself to hold a post that will give me a big income. At the least I'll be a General of Division by November. This means that I must spend the next four months with the Army. You will know what a terrible wrench it is for me to leave Paris; but think what this means on my return. Think, too, of Bordeaux, Pau, Nimes and a little place by the sea. During my absence such scenes and the future will occupy all my thoughts. R.'
Having left it with Maitre Blanchard to be given to Aimee when she made her daily call to pick up any note from Roger asking for a rendezvous with her mistress, he had a quick meal and set out, followed by his servant leading a third horse carrying the baggage.
Few people knew better than Roger the dispositions of the Army of the Coast of the Ocean, as it was now called. Its cantonments were spread over a vast area stretching from Antwerp right down to Le Havre. Flanders, Artois and Picardy swarmed with troops, while huge reserve formations were assembled at Utrecht, Ghent, St. Omer, Montreuil, Compiegne and St. Malo. At Boulogne alone there were fifty thousand men under the command of Soult, at Etaplcs thirty thousand under Ncy and at Bruges another thirty thousand under Davoust; so it was to the ancient Flemish town, with its old gabled houses, canals and grassy ramparts, that Roger rode in the summer sunshine.
General Davoust, to whom he reported, was a strange character. A Burgundian aristocrat by birth, he had been a junior lieutenant in the Royal Champagne Regiment at the outbreak of the Revolution. Unsociable by nature and holding Republican views, he had led a mutiny, been cashiered for it and imprisoned for six weeks. The triumph of the Third Estate had soon led to his reinstatement as an officer and his rising to the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel; but later he had again been deprived of his commission, this time by the Jacobins on account of his aristocratic birth. Then, under the Directory, he had emerged once more, as a Brigadier in Moreau's Army of the Rhine.
In '98 he had been sent to Egypt. As a 'Moreau man' and a staunch Republican, he had regarded Bonaparte with dislike and distrust, and consorted with the little clique of senior officers who were always criticizing their General-in-Chief. Then had come the Battle of Aboukir. There Davoust had been given a reserve formation, of which Bonaparte made no use during the battle. Afterwards Davoust had demanded an interview with the object of making a bitter complaint that he and his men had been slighted. The interview was a long one and no one ever learned what had been said between the two. But Davoust had emerged from it a changed man.
Previously he had been uncouth in manner and slovenly in his dress; from that day he became a stickler for courtesy and smartness. Henceforth he took Bonaparte as his model in everything, gave him absolute devotion and studied his methods of waging war with such assiduity that, having a fine brain, he later became the ablest of all Napoleon's Marshals.
But he was a dour, hard man, with few friends and many enemies—particularly Bernadotte, whom he hated for his intrigues against Napoleon. He loved no one except his wife, to whom he showed the most tender feelings, and he had no interests outside his duties. He took great care of his men, but was the harshest disciplinarian of all the Generals, being especially severe with his senior officers, all of whom loathed him. Roger knew him only slightly, but enough of bis reputation to wish himself posted elsewhere.
Having read Napoleon's letter, Davoust gave Roger a cold smile and said,
'The First Consul has ordered me to instil into you the rudiments of soldiering. These are usually acquired by having served for a period in the ranks; but he does not desire that I should temporarily deprive you of your commission. He feels that the desired end can be achieved by your joining my Endurance Course for junior officers who show promise. You will appreciate that for you to do so with your present rank would be most unsuitable; so while you are under my command" you will revert to that of Lieutenant and, of course, you will not use your A.D.C.'s sash.'
With every word the General uttered Roger's heart sank further into his boots. Going pale with rage, he burst out:
'General, I am confident that the First Consul never . . .'
'Silence!' snapped Davoust. 'And if I do not have a good report of you, Lieutenant, you will have cause to rue it. You may go.'
Roger had seen summary discipline exercised in the French Army too
often to become defiant. Almost choking with fury, he saluted, turned sharply on his heel and went.
An adjutant took charge of him. Half an hour later the Headquarters tailor had changed his Colonel's rank badges for those of a Lieutenant and he had been deprived of his servant, who was put on general fatigues. He was then conducted across the town to a big building that had formerly been a school. There he was handed over to a short, gimlet-eyed Major of Infantry, named Gaudin, who was the Chief Instructor of the Course.
Gaudin asked him a few questions about himself. Feeling it to be pointless and even dangerous to disclose the reason for his having been sent to Bruges, Roger said only that he had served on the Staff in Egypt and more recently with the Paris Headquarters of the Army of the Coast.
Under the Major's black, upturned moustache his mouth took on a sneer, 'I see. Then you have put a foot wrong somewhere and been sent here to be disciplined. As we poor fellows have to fight the wars, most of the time half-starved, while you Staff people loll about at Headquarters stuffing yourselves with the fat of the land, it will give me special pleasure to have you on my Course. Go through that door on your left and report to Captain Adott, the instructor in charge of B Company. I can trust him to put you through the hoop.'
Captain Adott proved to be a huge Dragoon with a manner and vocabulary which made it obvious that he had been an N.C.O. in the old Republican Army. He, too, asked a few questions, then clearly thought it a grand joke to have anyone like Roger in his Company.
The classrooms in the building had been converted into dormitories and the unhappy Roger got his first glimpse of what was meant by 'Endurance Course' when he saw that the close-ranged beds consisted of three planks apiece with no bedding and only a single blanket.
Soon after he had been allotted one, his new companions swarmed into the room. A few of them showed a vague interest in him as a newcomer; but the rest were too tired to do anything but lie at full length on their planks, and he was in no mood to talk. Half an hour later a bugle sounded and, pulling themselves together, they trooped down a corridor to the Company dining hall. Supper consisted of Army biscuits and an ill-cooked stew of vegetables.
When Roger commented sourly on this sparse fare, the young man next to him replied, 'It is as much as one can expect to get while living off the land during a campaign, and I don't suppose we'll do any better when we land in England.'
He passed a hideous night, turning restlessly on his plank bed, with only his uniform for a pillow. Had Napoleon been at hand Roger would cheerfully have killed him for having played him this scurvy trick. For a while he contemplated creeping out, finding a horse and making his escape; but the thought of Pauline restrained him. Napoleon had as good as promised her to him so, for her sake, he must somehow put up with this martyrdom.
A bugle call roused them at five o'clock. Hastily pulling on their outer garments, they ran out into the big yard and lined up for their first parade of the day. There followed half an hour's violent exercise during which they were required to throw themselves down, heave themselves up, then jump high in the air. Next came early morning stables and, while Roger was an excellent horseman, he loathed having to groom a horse himself. Before breakfast, another meal of biscuits and vegetable stew, they were given half an hour to shave in a crowded washroom and clean themselves up. There was then an inspection by the gimlet-eyed Major and Roger was awarded seven days fatigues for no apparent reason.
Instead of the technical instruction about supplying and administering large bodies of troops, that Roger had expected to receive, he found himself for fifteen hours a day being drilled on a barrack square, ordered off on twenty-fivc-mile route marches without water, and sent for cross-country runs from which the last ten men in were penalized by having to get up at four in the morning and clean out the latrines. In the riding school they had to trot without stirrups and jump hurdles bareback, while cynical N.C.O.s flicked their mounts with long whips until they became almost unmanageable. There were sessions of bayonet fighting, wrestling and swimming in the noisome canals until half of them were sick from the stench of the sewage with which houses on the banks fouled the water. Grimly, Roger stuck it, now falling asleep exhausted each night on his plank bed. And in one way he earned the respect of his fellow sufferers. He was a superb swordsman and soon found that in the fencing school no one could touch him. So, after he had been in Bruges a week he challenged the giant Captain Adott to a bout. The tough ex-sergeant was a fine blade and his strength made him a formidable opponent, but Roger got the better of him and he handsomely admitted it. After that, life for Roger became a little easier; but there was no escaping the daily drills, the constant exertions and the monotonous, unsatisfying food.
His rancour against Napoleon gradually subsided, for he had come to the conclusion that the First Consul's idea had been that, before he commanded troops, he should learn to appreciate the hardships they suffered during an arduous campaign. And the thought of his beautiful Pauline waiting for him in Paris enabled him to endure these weeks of physical fatigue and acute discomfort.
The officers on the course came and went, usually rejoining their units after a period of a month. None of those engaged on it had a moment to read a journal, so the only news they received from the outside world was from newcomers. It was early in September that one of these remarked one evening to Roger, 'That Prince Borghese is a lucky fellow. Just think what a night one could have going to bed with Pauline Bonaparte.'
Roger stiffened as though a ramrod had been thrust down his gullet and demanded, 'What the devil do you mean?'
'Why, don't you know?' replied his companion with a smile. 'Although she is only ten months a widow, she married this Italian Prince towards the end of August. On the 23rd. I think.'
Utterly staggered by this casual statement, Roger remained absolutely still for a moment. He felt sure that it could not possibly be true; but he had to make certain. Without a word he stood up, went along to the Instructors' Mess and asked to be allowed to look through some of the journals. By that time he had come to be regarded as quite a good fellow who had been kicked off the Staff only because he had antagonized some General; so permission was readily accorded him.
Shuffling swiftly through the numbers of Le Moniteur for the last week in August, he soon came upon an announcement that he could still hardly believe but had half feared to find. There it was in black and white; 'Marriage of the First Consul's sister, Madame Leclerc, to the millionaire Italian Prince, Camillo Borghese.'
Almost physically sick at the thought of the way in which Pauline had betrayed him after all he had endured for her sake, he left the Mess and stood for a few minutes outside in the passage. Rage welled up in him, taking the place of disgust, then sudden determination.
Davoust was completely merciless, and even took pleasure in signing death warrants for wrongdoers. He spent half his time having British spies, with whom the coast swarmed, hunted down and hanged; and any deserter from his army who was caught could be certain of facing a firing squad. Regardless of the fact that he was risking his life, Roger walked out to the stables, went straight to the stall in which stood the best officer's charger and saddled, bridled and mounted her. He could stand no more. Come hell or high water he meant to confront in Paris the brother and sister who had used him so ill and call them to account.
19
Blackmail
The officers on the course were allowed only one pass a week to spend an evening in the town; so as Roger rode through the gate the picket on duty shouted at him, asking where he was going on horseback. With the resource that had become second nature to him, he forced a grin and replied:
'To Paris, of course. I've a young woman there who is expecting me. ‘Twill make a pleasant evening's ride.'
Paris being some hundred and eighty miles distant, the young officer doing picket duty that night thought it a huge joke, gave a loud guffaw and waved him on.
By midnight Roger was in Lille, where he slept,
and next night at Estrees-St. Denis. On the second afternoon after leaving Bruges he entered Paris. At La Belle Etoile he enjoyed his first bath for two months and rid himself of the lice and bedbugs that had been a torment to him.
Dressed in civilian clothes he went out that evening and, regardless of consequences, called at the Hotel de Charost, where he enquired for Aimee. The footman on the door fetched a haughty major-domo who regarded Roger with surprise but, judging from his clothes and manner that he was a man to be obeyed, he despatched the footman to the rear ofthe house. A few minutes later he returned with Pauline's plump, pretty little maid.
At the sight of Roger her eyes went round with apprehension and she gave a little gasp. But he smiled at her, led her to the far end of the great empty hall, where they were well out of earshot of the footman and slipped two gold pieces into her hand. Then he said in a low voice:
'Aimee, I am anxious to congratulate your mistress on having become a Princess; but you will understand that I would prefer to do so in private. Can you suggest a time that would be suitable for you to take me to her?'
For a moment Aimee hesitated, then she replied, 'There'll be no better opportunity than the present, Monsieur Le Colonel, as His Highness is out dining with some gentlemen. But I dare not. I dare not. 'Twould lose me my place.'
Roger first pressed into her now unwilling palm two more gold pieces, then he produced from the top of his breeches a short, sharp knife, and said with a smile, 'Be not afraid. You have been a good friend and I would not harm you for the world. But you can tell your mistress that I threatened to cut your throat with this, if you refused to take me to her.'
The girl gave a sudden half-hysterical laugh, 'Grace Dieu, you are the very devil of a man. I've always thought so, and that you'd stick at nothing to gain your ends. I'll do it then; but first you must swear to me that you will not harm her.'
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