The Rising Storm rb-3

by Dennis Wheatley

"'Tis true that I was born in England," Roger admitted; then added with a smooth disregard for the strict truth: "But as I was educated in France I have long regarded myself as more than half a Frenchman."

  De Vaudreuil ignored the skilful evasion, which Roger had pre­pared in advance in case he should find himself in just such a situation, and hastily excused himself to the Queen.

  "Your pardon, Madame. In my amazement at finding such a person in your company my tongue ran away with me."

  Marie Antoinette's blue eyes widened. "I fail to see, Monsieur, why you should be so shocked. What matters it where Monsieur de Breuc was born ? I have always had a liking for the English, and count many of them among my friends."

  De Coigny came to his companion's rescue, and said quickly: "I too recognize him now, and know what Monsieur le Comte had in mind. We can scarce believe Your Majesty to be aware that this fellow is he who seduced Mademoiselle de Rochambeau."

  It had never occurred to Roger that such a charge would be brought against him. His deep-blue eyes suddenly began to smoulder beneath their dark lashes, and before the Queen could reply he burst out:

  "Monsieur le Due! Were it not for Her Majesty's presence I would call you out for that. I know not what vile slanders were invented about me after I left France; but 'tis a lie. I was no more than Mademoiselle de Rochambeau's devoted servant, and aided her to escape an unwelcome marriage, in order that she might wed Monsieur de la Tour d'Auvergne, with whom she was in love."

  The Queen gave a little gasp and turned to stare at him. "Enough, Monsieur!" she exclaimed imperiously. "The whole of that horrid scandal now comes back to me. And on your own confession you must be the villain who murdered M. le Comte de Caylus."

  "Nay, Madame! I protest!"cried Roger firmly. "I killed Monsieur de Caylus in fair fight. M. l'Abbé de Perigord witnessed the affair and can vouch for the truth of what I say."

  "That unworthy priest!" exclaimed the Queen. "I would not credit one word his purjured mouth could utter. 'Twas reported on incontest­able evidence that you ambushed Monsieur de Caylus in the forest of Melun, and there did him to death."

  "Madame; 'tis true that I waylaid him, for in my situation it was the only way to make him fight. But I gave him ample opportunity to defend himself, and he proved no mean antagonist."

  "At the least then you admit to having challenged him to fight, and having forced a duel upon him ?"

  "I do, Your Majesty."

  "Yet you must have been aware that there are edicts forbidding duelling, and that the breaking of them makes the offender liable to punishment by death?"

  "I was, Your Majesty; but..."

  "Silence, Monsieur!" The Queen cut him short. "I was too easily taken in by your fair appearance and glib tongue; but now you are unmasked I have heard enough! Madamoiselle de Rochambeau's father chose Monsieur de Caylus for her. What others thought of that choice is neither here nor there; for in such a matter the right of the head of a family is sacred. Yet you, while acting as a servant in the house, took it on yourself to overrule his judgment, and decided to assassinate the Count. Since you have had the temerity to return to France I should be failing in my duty were I not to ensure that justice takes its course, and that you pay the penalty for your abominable crime."

  She then turned to her gentlemen. "Monsieur le Due, be pleased to call my horses, for I would now return to Fontainebleau. And you, Monsieur le Comte, I charge with the arrest and escorting back to the Chateau of Monsieur de Breuc."

  De Vaudreuil dismounted, and a moment later Roger was sur­rendering his long sword. Less than five minutes before he had been in a fair way to being accepted into Madame Marie Antoinette's intimate circle; now he was to be taken to Fontainebleau as a dangerous criminal charged with murder.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE FAMILY COMPACT

  As Roger climbed into his saddle the thought of attempting to escape entered his mind, but he dismissed it almost at once. His hired hack was good enough for an afternoon's ride but possessed of little stamina; whereas the mounts of de Vaudreuil and de Coigny were both fine animals and still comparatively fresh, in spite of their recent gallop. His mare might have kept the lead for some distance, but he felt certain that his pursuers would ultimately wear her down and that, with no initial start, he would never be able to get far enough ahead to conceal himself among the trees and rocks while the others passed, as de Roubec had evidently done.

  If anything could have added to his bitter sense of grievance at the scurvy trick Fate had played him, it was that had the Queen's two gentle­men not chanced to be close friends of Monsieur de Rochambeau, and had they been a little nearer to hand when she summoned them, it would have been de Roubec who would have ridden back to Fontainebleau as a prisoner, instead of himself.

  That he was a prisoner was brought home to him in no uncertain manner by the way in which the two nobles closed in on either side of him immediately the carriage set off. His temper had subsided as quickly as it had arisen, and he was not normally given to fits of de­pression, but with every yard they covered in the wake of the carriage he became more fully conscious of the seriousness of his plight.

  He had had perfectly adequate reasons for believing the affair of de Caylus to be done with and forgotten; yet it seemed that the dead Count's hand was now stretching up out of the grave to draw him down into it, and that even evasion of the grisly clutch might be bought only at the price of a long term of imprisonment.

  It was not until they had covered over half a mile that Roger's gloomy thoughts were broken in upon by de Coigny saying:

  "Monsieur; the fact that Her Majesty has placed you under arrest does not obliterate the memory of a certain exchange that recently passed between us. I refer to your threat to call me out."

  "Indeed it does not, Monsieur le Duc," Roger replied icily. He was far from pleased that in addition to his other troubles he had brought a duel upon himself, but it did not even occur to him that there was any alternative to going through with it, so he added:

  "When last our paths crossed I was employed by Monsieur de Rochambeau as a secretary, so it may be that you do not consider me as of sufficient rank to meet you; but let me at least assure you that I am fully entitled to that of Chevalier, as my grandfather was the Earl of Kildonan, and my uncle is the present holder of that title. So, if and when I become free of my present embarrassment, I shall be happy to give Your Grace satisfaction with such weapons and at any time and place you may choose."

  "In view of what you tell me of your birth I, too, should be willing to meet you, if it is your wish to press the matter," said the Duke quite mildly. "But I am prepared to admit that I spoke without due thought. As you escaped to England shortly after you killed de Caylus, you are doubtless unaware that your duel, and the elopement of Mademoiselle de Rochambeau which immediately succeeded it, caused a positive furore. All Paris was buzzing with accounts of the matter. And as you clearly fought on the young lady's behalf the most generally accepted version of it was that you had abused your position as secretary to her father to become her lover. Like many other people I accepted the ont dit of the day and on such few occasions as I have thought of you since it has always been as her seducer. But I have no evidence that it was so; and had I not been surprised out of my sense of fitness by your sudden reappearance in the company of Her Majesty, I should certainly not have accused you of it."

  Roger looked at the handsome middle-aged man at his side with new respect. For nearly two centuries the Kings of France had issued edict after edict threatening increasingly severe punishments in their efforts to suppress duelling, but that had had little effect on their nobility's attitude towards affairs of honour. No gentleman could afford to be subjected to a public slight and fail to demand satisfaction for it, for to do so was to invite certain ostracization by his fellows. Moreover, whenever such affairs took place with adequate reason and according to the established rules even the King's Ministers entered into a silent conspiracy to hush them up, an
d save the participants from the penalties of the law. It therefore required much more courage to apologize than to fight, and Roger rightly regarded M. le Coigny's retraction a most handsome one.

  “Monseigneur," he said. "The honesty of your admission touches me deeply, and nothing would please me better than to forget the passage between us that gave occasion for it. May I add that I am all the more sensible of the generosity of your conduct from the sad plight in which I find myself; for 'tis when in such straits as I am at this moment that a chivalrous gesture from another is most warming to the heart."

  He paused for a moment, then went on: "For my part, I can well appreciate that an evil construction could have been put upon my championship of Mademoiselle de Rochambeau. But, if you recall the facts, Monsieur de la Tour d'Auvergne had already challenged de Caylus, fought and been wounded by him; so naught but my sword stood between her and the hateful marriage that had been arranged by her father without her consent. Monsieur de la Tour d'Auvergne was at that time my closest friend, and it was on his account that, rather than see the lady he loved given to another, I fought and killed de Caylus."

  "If that is so, your conduct appears to have been most honourable, Monsieur," remarked de Vaudreuil politely. "And had the affair been conducted according to the accepted code you would be in danger now of no more than a severe reprimand from His Majesty coupled with a period of banishment to some country estate. But since you waylaid de Caylus, forced a duel on him and fought without the presence of seconds to bear witness to fair play, that is accounted assassination, and I fear it may go hard with you."

  "Monsieur le Comte, I give you my word that I took no unfair advantage of my adversary, and that I was, in fact, several times in acute danger of receiving a mortal wound from him myself."

  "And we accept it, Monsieur," put in de Coigny. "De Caylus had fought at least a score of times before and was accounted one of the finest swordsmen in all France. It was a remarkable feat to slay so notable a duellist, and if you will indulge us we should find it mightily interesting to hear what actually took place at the encounter."

  For all his natural self-confidence Roger was by habit diffident when speaking of his own abilities and achievements; so, while he willingly did as he had been requested, he confined himself mainly to the technicalities of the fight and made his final victory appear more a stroke of fortune than a brilliantly delivered coup de grace. His modesty won him the respect of the two older men, and for the last few miles of their ride all three of them talked in the most friendly fashion of sword-play as an art, with its innumerable varieties of tierce, feint and thrust.

  It was not until the small cortege was trotting down the cobbled main street of Fontainebleau that de Vaudreuil said with some hesi­tation to Roger: "I pray you forgive me, Monsieur, but one thing has been troubling me for some moments past. When you fled after the duel I recall that a big reward was offered for your capture. In it I seem to remember some mention of a State paper with which you had made off. Was there any truth in that?"

  It was the one accusation that Roger had been dreading for the past hour or more; but the form in which the question was put reassured him for the moment. Evidently the Marquis de Rochambeau had not disclosed to his friends the nature of the document of which he had been robbed, or its importance. In the circumstances Roger felt considerable repugnance to telling a lie, but there was clearly no alternative if he was to stand any chance at all of saving his neck; and when a lie was neces­sary few people could tell one more convincingly than Roger. Without hesitation he replied:

  " Tis true, Monsieur le Comte, that in the hurry of my departure I inadvertently took one of Monsieur de Rochambeau's documents with me. I came upon it many days later in one of my pockets. As I con­sidered it of a highly confidential nature I did not like to risk returning it through the post, so I destroyed it."

  To Roger's relief de Vaudreuil seemed perfectly satisfied with this explanation and a moment later, as they turned into the broad carriage­way between the Cour Henri Quatre and the Cour des Princes, the Count addressed him again.

  "Monsieur de Breuc, after having enjoyed the pleasure of your conversation, I now find the duty with which I have been charged by Her Majesty a most distasteful one; but I can at least offer you a choice of prisons. Normally you would be conducted to the dungeon and placed under guard there, but if you prefer to give me your parole d'honneur that you will not attempt to escape, I should be happy to offer you a room in my apartment."

  Roger barely hesitated. Apart from the discomfort that would certainly be his lot if he elected to be confined in a cell his chances of escaping from it would be obviously small; and even if he succeeded, that would put a definite end to all prospect of his succeeding in his mission, for he could never hope afterwards to be received at Court. Whereas the friendliness and sympathy displayed by his two companions during their long ride had buoyed him up afresh, and encouraged him to believe that he might yet make his peace with the Queen if only she could be induced to give him a fair hearing. With a bow he replied:

  "I am indeed grateful to you, Monsieur le Comte. I willingly give you my parole for the privilege of accepting your hospitality."

  They had now turned right, through the Porte Davphine into the Cour Ovale, and the carriage drew up at an entrance to the right just inside it. De Coigny handed the Queen out and escorted her up to her apartments; de Vaudreuil followed them into the entrance with Roger but conducted him along a ground-floor corridor and up a staircase at its far end in the oldest, central block of the Palace, where, just round the corner from the Galerie Francois I, he had his own quarters.

  Having shown Roger the small but pleasant bedroom he was to occupy the Count told him that dinner would shortly be served for him in the sitting-room next door, and that in the meantime he would send someone to take his horse back to the inn and fetch his clothes. Then he left him.

  As Roger gazed out of the tall window, which overlooked the Cour de la Fontaine with its statue of Ulysses and the carp pond beyond it, he began to wonder again how he could possibly bluff his way out of the mess he was in. But he was not given long to brood over his ill-fortune as the Count's servant came in to lay the table, and he proved to be an extremely garrulous Bordelaise who seemed to consider it part of his duty to entertain his master's guest with an endless flow of small-talk.

  Neither was Roger given any opportunity to grow gloomy over his prospects that evening, for he had scarcely finished his dinner when de Vaudreuil returned, bringing with him a number of other gentlemen. It transpired that Her Majesty had a slight migraine, so had decided against holding a small musical which had been planned for that night, and it being de Coigny's turn to remain in immediate attendance on her, he was the only member of her intimate circle not left free by her decision.

  Among the newcomers to whom Roger was presented were the Due de Polignac, the husband of the beautiful Gabrielle who was the Queen's closest friend and the governess of the royal children, the Due de Biron and the Baron de Breteuil, all of whom recalled having at times trans­acted business with him when he was M. de Rochambeau's secretary; while several of the others were known to him by sight and reputation. They included the Prince de Ligne, a soldier-poet and renowned horticulturist, whose talents and charm had made him persona grata at half the Courts in Europe; the Comte Valentin d'Esterhazy, a wealthy Hungarian noble who had been specially recommended to the Queen by her mother, the Empress Maria Theresa; the Baron de Besenval, an elderly but robust Swiss who commanded the King's Swiss Guards; and Auguste-Marie, Prince d'Arenberg, who was known in France as the Comte de la Marck, and was the son of Maria Theresa's most brilliant general.

  They were a gallant and handsome company, fully representative of the gay and intelligent men whom Madame Marie Antoinette had delighted to gather about her in her happier days; and now as her old and best friends, having only the true interests of the monarchy at heart, they remained at her side, while the hundreds of time-serving co
urtiers who usually frequented the Palace had gone off to the provinces for the elections.

  All of them remembered the affair of de Caylus's death and Athenais de Rochambeau's run-away marriage, and were eager to hear a first­hand account of it; so while the daylight died the curtains were drawn, candles lit, fresh bottles of wine uncorked, and as they settled down round the big table Roger found himself called on to tell again the story of his famous duel.

  Again he endeavoured to belittle the part he had played, but when he had done the whole company was both loud in its praise of his conduct and most sympathetic about his present position; so he was still further heartened in his hope that the Queen's friends would use their influence to secure her clemency on his behalf.

  The talk then became general and naturally many references were made to the unsettled state of France; thus Roger was provided with the opportunity, which had seemed so distant that morning, of hearing the views of these very men who stood so near the throne.

  Somewhat to his surprise, he did not find them in the least reaction­ary; on the contrary, most of them appeared very liberal-minded. De Ligne and de Vaudreuil were particularly so, and the latter, after inveighing against the artificiality of life at Court, declared that he would have long since left it had it not been for his attachment to the Queen.

  As they talked the wine was kept in constant circulation. It was not the habit to drink so heavily in France as in England, and the wine, although a rich Anjou, was considerably lighter than the Port to which Roger was accustomed. Nevertheless, by the time de Vaudreuil's friends retired, Roger was carrying a good load, so on going to bed he thought no more of his worries and, within a few minutes of his head touching the pillow, was sound asleep.

  However, when he awoke in the morning, the danger in which he lay recurred to him with full force, and over a breakfast of chocolate and crisp rolls, which was brought to him in bed, he tried to assess his chances of escaping the Queen's anger.