Officer's Prey (The Napoleonic Murders)

by Armand Cabasson

  ‘Well, Your Highness, if we have to speak, it might as well be about something interesting. May I know why finding this murderer means so much to you? I know the official reason but I wondered whether there was another.’

  Surprisingly, instead of snapping at him, Eugène remained calm.

  ‘Captain Margont, either you are exasperating or you are very perceptive. In fact, you are both at once. When one is perceptive, one is often exasperating.’

  That’s normal, given that we live in a world that operates on lies, Margont added to himself.

  Eugène was reticent. He glanced again at the messengers waiting patiently. With a wave of the arm he could summon them to his side and Margont would be swallowed up in the excited throng. Margont decided to press home his advantage.

  ‘The reasons you have put forward to explain my investigation are valid, that’s certain. However, I have been wondering about your personal interest in this. General Triaire would easily have sufficed. But you and the Emperor himself! Could there be a more personal reason, Your Highness?’

  ‘You are wrong about the Emperor. He takes the political aspect of the problem very seriously. As far as I’m concerned, the answer is yes and no. Perhaps. In fact, probably not … There was another murder, just before the start of the campaign. I found this coincidence disturbing.’

  Margont almost flew into a rage, something he did rarely. His meetings with the prince were really not good for him.

  ‘Another murder? And you didn’t tell me about it?’

  ‘No, because the culprit has been arrested.’

  This new lead had scarcely come to light and it was already being snatched away. However, Margont noted that the prince did not seem convinced.

  ‘I should be grateful if Your Highness would tell me the story so that I can form my own opinion. Above all, do not hesitate to give me all the details. Paradoxically, the more details I have, the clearer things will become to me.’

  ‘Very well. This business occurred about a week before the murder of the Polish woman. Our corps was still in Poland and we were putting the finishing touches to the preparations. The Emperor wanted to be kept informed of everything. Every subject held his attention: the numbers and quality of the troops, the calibre of the officers, the supplies, the reserves of ammunition, the artillery, the clothing, respecting the privileges granted to my Royal Guard, the pay, maintaining discipline, relations with the Polish population … And His Majesty would not tolerate any delays or approximations or disappointing answers! In a word, my general staff and I were constantly in demand. So I was careful to organise regular entertainments. A mind that enjoys itself from time to time works better than one that is subject to permanent pressure.’

  The prince cast another annoyed glance in the direction of poor General Triaire, who was attempting to stem the flow of missives.

  ‘One evening, a grand reception was given by Countess Nergiss, a Polish sympathiser. I should point out that I was not the instigator of this event. It was entirely conceived and organised by the countess. There were four hundred guests at the very least. Perhaps you were there?’

  ‘Unfortunately not. I am not of high enough rank to be invited.’

  ‘Lay your hands on our murderer and that sort of disappointment will be a thing of the past.’

  ‘I knew about the celebration but I didn’t hear anything about a crime …’

  ‘Let me continue. Countess Nergiss is as rich as Croesus and she had set her sights on an ambitious promotion for her husband, who is a general. She hoped that, if General Prince Poniatowski happened to be wounded or killed, her husband would replace him in command of V Corps, the Polish Corps. Can you believe it? So she had been preparing this reception for weeks, even before the Grande Armée reached Poland. To her chagrin, the Emperor informed her at the last minute that he would not be able to come as he was with the bulk of the army much too far north of the castle. Only IV Corps was camped nearby. The countess therefore fell back on me in her calculations, hoping that I would plead her cause with His Majesty. To make her tactic less obvious, she had decided to dazzle me. I must admit she succeeded very well. What splendour!’

  The prince must, though, have been used to this type of event. Margont told himself that the countess must have beaten all records for extravagance.

  ‘She had invited the full complement – the full complement! – of my senior officers.’

  Margont attempted to disguise his dismay. His suspects had therefore all been invited to this reception.

  ‘Each guest was allowed to bring up to three people. When I arrived – late because I was being informed about last-minute problems practically all the time – it was only to discover a crowd of officers, Polish nobles, notables, wives, children, soldiers on guard duty … all of them being pampered by an armada of servants. Try to imagine an immense castle. As it was a clear night, the countess had set up outside an endless array of buffets: Polish, French, Italian, Danish, Indian, Creole … Valets provided the lighting by standing still with lanterns in their hands. Any sensible person would have planted stakes in the ground to hang the lanterns on, but no! Why make savings when you can throw money out of the window? Orchestras, dotted around the grounds, were giving concerts while fireworks crackled in the sky. To mark my arrival, the entire surroundings were briefly illuminated by sparkling showers of light and thousands of fireworks. It was like being back in the extravagant era of the Sun King. But it was even better than that because this time I was the Sun King.’

  Margont blinked. How could anyone be so rich? And how could they waste so much money?

  ‘It was so luxurious it was grotesque,’ concluded Eugène. ‘But it was ideal for taking your mind off things. I whispered to Triaire that one or two more evenings like that and though I wasn’t sure whether the count would be given command of V Corps, I’d be pleased to offer him that of IV. The countess seemed to me quite a pleasant person, in the sense that she knew how to avoid overstepping the boundaries. That’s a very rare quality among courtiers. So she vaunted her husband’s merits – he’s serving in the Polish Corps – but she interrupted herself before my irritation surfaced. She had one strange quirk: she would disappear every hour and come back showing off a new dress and different jewels, in a crescendo of extravagance. That’s exactly it! With her sapphire necklace and her champagne-coloured diamond …’

  The prince had raised his voice. There was a tense sadness about him. He seemed caught in a moment of futile protest against a past that could not be altered.

  ‘If Countess Nergiss had not been so obsessed with luxury, everything would have turned out differently, and a young lady I thought highly of would still be alive. In short, the evening continued its pleasant course, interspersed with the extravagant follies of our hostess, including cut-crystal glasses that she cheerfully invited her guests to toss into the air as soon as they were empty, a hunting party—’

  ‘But it was night-time.’

  ‘Do you think that was a problem for the countess? She had illuminated one of her woods with lanterns and had it surrounded by beaters before getting the gamekeepers to set the deer loose. I admit that we killed far more lanterns than deer. When the wood started to catch fire because of the oil from the lamps that had been hit by the bullets, the countess declared that it did not matter. However, this silly game came to an end and the fire was brought under control at an early stage. The countess’s next stunt was to parade past me the one hundred and twenty horses of her stud farm before presenting me with one of her handsomest stallions. That evening was a folly, I tell you! On the stroke of eleven, the master of ceremonies – a man always stiff and mannered – announced that a play was to be performed. Immediately, swarms of servants busied themselves in setting up an open-air stage and laying out hundreds of chairs. When the actors appeared, I was astonished. Because I knew them.’

  The prince’s voice had changed, becoming less cold and more human. His account sounded less like an official r
eport and had become more personal. Eugène even seemed on the verge of tears. But the exercise of power had taught him to hold his emotions in check, in the same way you would train a dog. No tears flowed.

  ‘Yes, I knew them. It was a Parisian company I had often seen perform. Oh, they’re not very well known but … you’re bound to know … As the whole of Paris knows about it, I suppose you do too.’

  Margont noted that for the prince Paris was synonymous with the whole of France, that is to say, a hundred and thirty départements, including Amsterdam, Brussels and Rome.

  ‘I know Your Highness is having an affair with an actress.’

  Eugène seemed about to fly into a rage.

  ‘Not an actress, an opera dancer! And an affair, an affair! One does not say to a prince that he’s having an affair or has a mistress. One says he greatly admires such and such a young lady. So, as you know, I greatly admire an opera dancer. Getting to know her has brought me into contact with other people from the world of entertainment. This friend of mine was very close to a person of real talent, Élisa Lasquenet. It was this young lady who performed for us that evening before being murdered. No one could fail to find her utterly charming. She was only nineteen and yet she already acted divinely well. I never tired of going to applaud her in her all too rare appearances. Oh, if she had lived, I swear to you that she would soon have had Paris at her feet.’

  Margont said to himself that in addition to his opera dancer, the prince must also have ‘greatly admired’ this Élisa Lasquenet.

  ‘This woman had a wonderful talent, Captain, wonderful. What a waste. And all because the countess wanted to please me! After finding out well in advance – doubtless via her husband – that IV Corps would be passing quite close to her castle, she did some research into my tastes. She then offered this troupe of actors a princely sum to get them to come to Poland, thinking that I would be easier to influence than the Emperor. As in billiards, she wanted to hit the Emperor indirectly and I was the cushion. There’s calculation and determination for you! Heaven forbid that I should ever make an enemy of a woman like that!’

  The prince paused. When he resumed, he spoke more quickly.

  ‘The performance lasted a good hour and a half, then the actors mingled with the guests. Élisa was stabbed a moment later, in one of the castle bedrooms that she was using as a dressing room. She had gone there to remove her stage costume.’

  The account had speeded up considerably. Detailing the festivities, yes; detailing the murder was altogether another matter.

  ‘The countess noticed that the young actress whom she had engaged at great expense was slow to return. She sent her housekeeper “to ensure that Mademoiselle Lasquenet had everything she needed”. The servant came back saying that there was no answer to her calls. She had not dared to open the door. The countess went to the room herself and discovered the body. What self-control! She did not scream but ordered the master of ceremonies to keep guard at the door and came to inform me of the tragedy. At most she looked a little pale. She begged me not to let news of this incident get out, in order to preserve her reputation. I agreed with some relief, as I already had enough problems with the campaign without having my officers being suspicious of one another. The countess continued to supervise the party, though she did bring it to an end early. When people asked for Mademoiselle Lasquenet she said that she was unwell and resting. None of the guests were aware of anything at all!’

  It’s she rather than her husband who deserves to be the possible replacement for General Poniatowski in command of V Corps, thought Margont.

  ‘She had paid the actors to speak their lines but she paid them double for keeping quiet. For my part, I informed the Polish authorities, demanding of them the utmost discretion. Fortunately, the culprit was arrested the following day.’

  ‘Really?’ said Margont in surprise.

  ‘He admitted to the crime. He’s an unstable Polish layabout, a lunatic who has already been put away several times. He passed himself off as a servant and melted into the crowd of domestics, which enabled him to have access to Mademoiselle Lasquenet.’

  That’s why he kept on so much about the servants: he wanted to convince not just me but himself as well, thought Margont.

  ‘Why did he murder this actress, Your Highness?’

  Prince Eugène seemed taken by surprise. ‘Why? How can you tell what’s going on inside the head of a madman?’

  Obviously. It was so simple. This disturbed individual might well be the culprit. But he could just as easily be the ideal scapegoat for investigators eager to please the prince.

  ‘I am listening, Your Highness.’

  ‘But my account is at an end. Your task and this crime are probably not related.’

  Eugène rose to his feet. This way of seeing things suited him best.

  Margont interjected once more, ‘I would very much like to ask Your—’

  ‘Did you say something, soldier?’ the prince interrupted.

  Margont was indeed a soldier. However, the words could also mean that if he persisted he risked losing his epaulettes and having his pay divided by twenty. He felt he was approaching a defining moment. It was impossible for him to carry out a thorough investigation under such conditions. Either he did what the prince wanted and scuppered his investigation or he stood up to him. Eugène’s behaviour was completely contradictory. On the one hand, he wanted the murders of this actress, the Polish woman and the sentry to be solved. On the other, he was afraid of facing up to the possibility that one of his officers was a criminal. Saber was always talking about plans and tactics – Margont thought that his friend would have been proud of him at this moment: he had just worked out a strategy for making the prince talk.

  ‘How could an intruder have made his way into the castle when there were so many people present?’

  The prince frowned. ‘Do you listen to me when I speak? I’ve told you more than once that there was a host of domestics. He passed himself off as a valet.’

  ‘Your Highness, servants wear servants’ clothes. Here’s a man who arrives dressed like a beggar – because you said yourself he was a layabout, so I imagine—’

  ‘You imagine far too much. He’s said to have stolen a servant’s outfit. The Polish authorities have investigated the matter, I’ll have you know.’

  ‘Their investigation lasted less than twenty-four hours as—’

  ‘If a case is solved in twelve hours that does not automatically make it a miscarriage of justice.’

  ‘Did people notice this madman in the course of the evening?’

  ‘The question was put to a few trustworthy servants – and only them in order to prevent the spread of rumour – and admittedly the reply was no. But the countess had taken on a large number of staff solely for the duration of that evening’s entertainment. None of her usual valets would have had any reason to pick out one new face among the employees because they were all new.’

  The prince was getting annoyed. He was going to break off the conversation. Margont nodded his agreement.

  ‘Perfect, Your Highness. I’m quite prepared to believe in the efficiency of the Polish investigators. Would you be so kind as to explain to me how this man proceeded?’

  ‘The day before the reception he entered the house of one of the countess’s servants and stole his outfit. The servant thought it was an ordinary theft. The theft was confirmed by the domestic in question after he had been traced.’

  This story was so full of improbabilities and extraordinary coincidences that Margont did not even bother to make a list of them. On the other hand, his strategy was working. Eugène was not fully convinced of the guilt of this deranged man but he wanted to believe it. Margont was toying with this element of doubt like someone pulling at a loose thread, and gradually Eugène’s confidence was fraying. Margont had reversed the roles of prince and captain and this was exactly how he planned to conduct the conversation.

  ‘There’s one thing I don’t understand,
Your Highness. This man killed without a motive …’

  ‘Not without a motive, but because he is mentally disturbed.’

  ‘But how can he be mentally disturbed when he kills if he is perfectly sane when he is planning the crime? We know that he did some research, drew up a plan, stole a servant’s outfit …’

  ‘How should I know? I’m not a specialist in these disorders.’

  ‘If I may be so bold, neither are the Polish investigators. I assume that one of them has been questioned.’

  ‘Of course not, because the culprit has confessed.’

  ‘How was this man tracked down?’

  ‘He had already committed a public order offence in the past. So the investigators questioned him, as they do all the usual suspects.’

  Margont was furious. So much for the ideals of the Revolution and the rights of man! Were all men equal then, except the insane?

  ‘I see. “Insane and therefore suspect.” Or even better: “Insane and therefore guilty.”’

  ‘He confessed! And no force was used to make him confess. I’d sent one of my aides-de-camp to make certain of that.’

  ‘May I talk to this aide-de-camp?’

  ‘Yes, but after the campaign is over because he stayed behind in Poland to follow the trial.’

  They were going round in circles but Margont remained unruffled.

  ‘How did the suspect confess, Your Highness? Did he give his own version of events or did he accept the one presented to him?’

  The prince seemed exasperated by this conversation but was unable to bring it to an end.

  ‘Well, the facts were put to him and he admitted to them. It was quicker that way because he seemed incoherent. According to the report I was given of his interrogation, his explanations were hopelessly confused. For example, he would break off in the middle of a sentence and remain silent for several minutes, for no apparent reason, before continuing to talk but about something completely different in the same rambling manner. And he didn’t even seem to be aware of these inconsistencies.’