The Rising Storm rb-3

by Dennis Wheatley

  The earlier treaties had contained the statement in their preambles that the alliance was "eternal and irrevocable" and the last, in addition, declared specifically that "any country that should become the enemy of the one or the other of the two Crowns would be regarded as the enemy of both". It further contained a clause that the two contracting parties should also afford full protection to the dominions of the two Bourbon princes who ruled the Two Sicilies and the Duchy of Parma, who were at that date Carlos III's.younger son, as King of Naples, and his younger brother.

  Having got so far Roger and Droopy looked up the House of Habsburg-Lorraine to find out the ramifications of Madame Marie Antoinette's family. It emerged that she had been one of the sixteen children of the Empress-Queen Maria Theresa, and that her surviving brothers and sisters included Joseph H, Emperor of Austria, the Grand Duke Leopold of Tuscany, the Elector of Cologne and the Queen of Naples. It was therefore clear that Lord Malmesbury had not been overstating the case when he had said that if the powers concerned in the Family Compact together with Marie Antoinette's relatives com­bined against Britain she would be in "a pretty pickle".

  As Roger recalled these scenes he felt that there was now very little hope of his being allowed to remain at Court, and so having even a chance of being able to furnish Mr. Pitt with data which might help him to put a spoke in the wheel of the Family Compact. But he did feel that owing to his having had the luck to meet so many of the Queen's gentlemen the previous evening, he could count on several of them speaking to her on his behalf; so there was a fair prospect that instead of sending him for trial she might give him his freedom, and that would at least allow him to continue with the less intricate part of his general mission.

  It would be bitterly disappointing to have got so near the Queen only to be banished from her presence, but he could make a tour of the provincial cities or develop the acquaintance of men such as the Comte de Mirabeau, M. Mounier, the Abb6 Sieves and the Comte de Lally-Tollendal, who were in the forefront of the agitation for reform, and thus still procure a certain amount of quite useful information for his Government. The thing that mattered above all else was to regain his freedom; with some anxiety, but a reasonable hope of doing so, he got up and dressed.

  Finding that M. de Vaudreuil had already gone out, he spent the morning browsing through his host's books until, shortly after midday, the Count returned. As soon as they had exchanged greetings Roger said:

  "Comfortable as you have made me here, Monsieur le Comte, I must confess to being on tenterhooks to learn my fate. If you have seen Her Majesty this morning, pray tell me if aught was said about my affair and if she persists in her determination to send me before a magistrate."

  "Why do you suppose she ever intended to do that, Monsieur?" asked the Count in some surprise.

  Roger's face showed even greater astonishment. "But you were present, Monsieur le Comte, when she declared her intention in no uncertain terms of seeing to it that justice took its course."

  "I was indeed, but that did not imply that the services of a magis­trate are called for."

  "Sacre nom!" Roger exclaimed in swift dismay. "Surely you do not infer that I am to be condemned without a trial?"

  De Vaudreuil shrugged. "Her Majesty will no doubt discuss your affair with the King, and His Majesty being the chief magistrate in France, no other is required. A lettre de cachet will be issued and His

  Majesty's Lieutenant General of Police will carry out whatever order it may contain."

  Roger endeavoured to hide his sudden panic. It had never occurred to him that he might be thrown into prison for an unspecified period and perhaps forgotten there, or even executed, without a trial; although he was well aware that judicial procedure was very different in France from what it was in England.

  In France there had never been any equivalent of Magna Carta or the Bill of Rights. There was no law of Habeas Corpus to protect people from being detained in prison without ever having been brought before a court; and even in the courts there was no such thing as trial by jury. The old feudal system of dispensing justice remained unaltered. The nobles still possessed powers little short of life and death over the peasants on their estates, and had the right of appointing anyone they chose to act for them in their absence.

  In the towns, courts of all kinds had grown up in higgledy-piggledy confusion. There were those of the King's Intendants in the provincial capitals and of the Sub-Intendants in lesser places; those of the clergy, who had special jurisdiction over certain matters; those for cases in which the nobility were concerned; those of the merchants, who could be tried by their own Guilds; and others which dealt with petty crime and the litigation of the common people. In addition there were the Parliaments which still functioned in some of the great cities, dealing with appeals and matters of outstanding moment, such as accusations against highly placed persons that the King might choose to refer to them. And above all these there remained the absolute power of the King to pronounce sentences of death, imprisonment, mutilation and banishment by lettres de cachet, against which there was no appeal

  During the past century the lettre de cachet had become mainly an instrument for disciplining the younger nobility. If a young man defied the parental will and was on the point of making an unsatisfactory marriage, got heavily in debt, or was leading a glaringly immoral life, it had become customary for his father to apply to the King for a lettre de cachet and get the recalcitrant youth sent to cool his heels in prison until he thought better of his insubordination. Lettres de cachet were also used quite arbitrarily by the greater nobility to imprison servants who they believed had robbed them and writers who had libelled them by publishing accounts of their extravagances and follies. So widespread had this practice become under Louis XV that his mistresses and Ministers regularly secured from him sheaves of signed blanks, which they gave to any of their friends who asked for them, so that the King no longer had the faintest idea who or for what people were being imprisoned in his name.

  The mild and conscientious Louis XVI had endeavoured to check this glaring abuse, and it was no longer easy to secure a lettre de cachet without providing a good reason for its use; but the King continued to use them freely himself in his capacity of Supreme Magistrate, and Roger had good cause to feel extremely perturbed by de Vaudreuil's pronouncement.

  "Monsieur le Comte," he said hurriedly, "if I am to have no opportunity of defending myself, I beg you most earnestly to entreat Her Majesty to grant me an audience before she speaks to the King. Or at least that you and your friends will take the first possible opportunity of recounting my story to heir as I told it to you last night, and beseeching her clemency towards me."

  "Alas, my poor Chevalier," replied de Vaudreuil, with a sad shake of his head. "De Coigny, de Ligne and myself have already done our best for you with Her Majesty this morning; but she would not listen to us. Indeed, she berated us soundly on the score that we were seeking to protect you because, contrary to the King's will, we nobles continue to regard duelling as the only recourse of a man of honour who con­siders himself aggrieved. I am distressed beyond words to dash your hopes, but she proved unshakable in her opinion that you had committed a very serious crime and must be suitably punished for it.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE LADY FROM SPAIN

  Asa further means of showing sympathy for his prisoner, de Vaudreuil suggested that a little fresh air and exercise might serve to distract Roger's thoughts; and told him that, since he had his parole, he had no objection to his going out unaccompanied, provided that he remained within the precincts of the Palace. Then he picked up a riding-crop he had come to fetch and went out himself.

  Roger, now as pessimistic about his prospects as he had previously been sanguine, felt no inclination for a walk, so remained where he was, plunged in gloomy speculations.

  If he were not to be given any form of trial it now seemed im­probable that the original documents referring to the case would be produced; and if they
were not the recommendation to mercy that the Comte d'Adhemar had promised to send in would never come to light. Presumably the Queen regarded his own confession, that he had been the man who had forced a duel without provocation on the Count de Caylus, and killed him, amply sufficient for the King to sentence him to anything that, in their mood of the moment, they considered to be his deserts. He thought it very unlikely that they would impose the death sentence, but in his vivid imagination he already saw the black bulk of the Bastille yawning to engulf him; and once inside that vast stone fortress it would prove exceedingly difficult to get out again.

  The only line of escape which now seemed to offer was an appeal to the British Ambassador, the Duke of Dorset. It was part of His Grace's function to protect the interests of all British subjects resident or travelling in France. He could take the matter up with the King, through his Foreign Minister, soliciting a cancellation of the lettre de cachet, or at least a further investigation of the case, if there were reason­able grounds for supposing that there had been a miscarriage of justice.

  But Roger realized with most distressing clarity that although he might plead a miscarriage of justice in the event of his being condemned for murder, he certainly could not do so if he were imprisoned for duelling; and it was entirely outside any Ambassador's sphere to seek to protect any of his nationals who had admittedly broken the laws of the country to which he was accredited.

  There was still one way out. Via the Ambassador, he could send a letter to Mr. Pitt, begging his intervention. If the Prime Minister chose to do so he could instruct the Ambassador to use his own discretion as to the means he should employ to secure the prisoner's release. The Duke of Dorset, and his extremely able First Secretary, Mr. Daniel Hailes, both knew that Roger was a secret agent, and they would then resort to extreme measures. Dorset could declare that Roger was a new member of his staff who had just been sent out to him, and had not yet been officially presented owing to his recent arrival in France. He would then claim for him diplomatic status with its accompanying immunities. These did not cover arrest for felony, but duelling had never been re­garded in the same light as other crimes. There was little doubt that the King would surrender Roger to the Ambassador rather than give umbrage to the Court of St. James; but at the same time it was certain that Dorset would be informed that this new member of his staff was non persona grata at Versailles and must be sent back to England forthwith.

  The thought of the humiliation entailed made Roger's bronzed face flush. How would he ever be able to face Mr. Pitt after having bungled matters so badly ? That his arrest was not altogether his own fault would prove no excuse, for he had laid himself open to it originally; and the Prime Minister had every right to expect that any agent he employed should have wit enough to get out of trouble without raising an annoying diplomatic issue. He would be sent on no more missions, never again be let into the fascinating secrets of high policy, or enjoy the travelling as a rich English milor' that he had so come to love. Instead he would be, as his father, Admiral Brook, would have put it, "on the beach" at twenty-one, with an income quite inadequate to support the habits he had acquired and entirely untrained for any profession or profitable occu­pation.

  Promptly he resolved that nothing short of actually finding his life in jeopardy would induce him to squeal to Mr. Pitt for help. If there was no escape it would be better to endure a spell of prison, and leave it to Dorset or Hailes to ask for his release when they felt that sufficient time had elapsed for King Louis to be mollified enough to grant him a pardon on normal grounds. But the thought that it was unlikely that the King would be inclined to do so for at least a year was anything but a rosy one.

  For the better part of two hours Roger strove to interest himself again in de Vaudreuil's books, but he found that his mind was not registering the words he read, and that on their pages "horrid visions of thick stone walls with iron grilles set high in them kept intruding themselves, so he decided that he would take advantage of the Count's permission to go out.

  First he wandered disconsolately for a little while through some of the lofty public rooms and corridors, but their rich furnishings and intri­cately woven tapestries made no appeal to him today; and he did not even raise or lower his eyes as he passed through the Galerie Henri II, to admire again the exquisite workmanship by which long-dead crafts­men had mirrored the elaborate design of the ceiling—the royal arms of France entwined with the moon-centred cipher of the King's mistress, the beautiful Diane de Poitiers—by an inlay of rare, richly coloured woods which formed the parquet of the floor.

  After a while he turned back, stood gloomily for a few minutes on the balcony where Madame de Maintenon had induced Louis XIV to sign the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, which had outlawed all the Protestants in France, then went down the main staircase and out into the garden.

  Still unheeding his surroundings his footsteps carried him round to the Fountain Court, and he noticed idly that a group of ladies at its open end were gathered at the edge of the pond amusing themselves feeding the carp. As he approached one of them turned, caught sight of him and, leaving her companions, began to walk in his direction. Even at that distance he needed no second glance to recognize the lady's intensely black hair and striking eyebrows as those of the Senorita d'Aranda.

  When they arrived within a few yards of one another she rippled her full skirts of lilac silk in a graceful curtsy and he swept his tricorn hat past the ground in an arc that paralleled his forward-thrust leg. From the instant he had recognized her his quick brain had been speculating on whether she might have good or ill news for him, and how he might gain some advantage from this chance meeting in view of her closeness to the Queen; so it was only on lifting his head from his bow that he noticed a strange little figure that had come to a halt a few feet in her rear.

  It was a boy of about ten, but a boy the like of which Roger had never seen. The child's eyes and hair were as black as those of the Senorita, his nose was considerably more hooked, and they both had high cheek­bones ; but there the resemblance ended; his lips were thick and his skin a deep red-brown. He was clad in a kilt and mantle beautifully embroid­ered with an assortment of strange intricate symbols in rich colours, wore ahead-dress of bright feathers and carried a thin-bladed, dangerous-looking little hatchet stuck in his gilded leather girdle. Although Roger had never set eyes on one before he knew from pictures he had seen that the little fellow must be some kind of Indian from the Americas.

  "Good day, Monsieur de Breuc," said the Senorita, regarding him with an amused smile. "You seem quite taken aback at the sight of my page. Do you not think him a handsome poppet ?"

  It was true enough that the boy had distinction in every line of his thin, eagle-beaked face and proud bearing. Quickly recovering his manners, Roger replied hastily: "Indeed he is, Senorita. I trust you will forgive me for having stared at him, but 'tis the first time I have ever seen one of his race, and it took me by surprise to see a lady like yourself accompanied by such an unusual attendant."

  She shrugged. "Madame du Barri had her Blackamoor, so why should I not have my Indian ? Though fittingly, I feel, her Zamore was a vulgar little imp, whereas my Quetzal is an admirably behaved child and the son of an Aztec Prince." Turning, she spoke in Spanish to the boy, telling him to make his bow to the handsome gentleman.

  Instead of returning the bow Roger held out his hand English fashion. After a slight hesitation Quetzal placed his small red hand in Roger's long one, and said something in Spanish to his mistress.

  "What did he say ?" Roger asked.

  The Spanish girl gave a low, rich laugh. "He says that he admires your blue eyes, Monsieur, and wishes he had jewels of their colour to put into his head-dress."

  "Tell him then, please, that I find, the velvet blackness of his own surpassed only by your brown ones, Senorita."

  Her olive complexion coloured a little as she translated. Then she said to Roger: "Our meeting is a happy chance, Monsieur, for but ten min
utes back I asked Monsieur de Vaudreuil to seek you out and bring you to me."

  Roger caught his breath. "Senorita. Spare my suspense, I beg. Can it be that Her Majesty has relented towards me, and that you are the bearer of these happy tidings?"

  She shook her head. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Monsieur; but I bear no message from Her Majesty. I wished to see you again only from the interest that you inspired in me yesterday."

  To cover his disappointment he bowed; but he had difficulty in keeping it out of his voice as he replied. "I am fortunate indeed, Senorita, in having aroused the interest of a lady so charming as yourself."

  Fluttering her lace fan to hide another blush, she said with slight hauteur: "I fear that my command of the French language is still far from perfect, and that I expressed myself badly. I refer to my interest in your story, Monsieur."

  He suppressed a smile, for experience had taught him that where women were concerned interest in such stories of his past as he chose to tell, and in himself, amounted to much the same thing. Again, with a critic's eye, he took in her features and decided that she was by no means beautiful. Her soft, dark eyes were as large as, but lacked the sparkle of, Georgina's; her hair was no more lustrous, and in all other points she was by a long way inferior. The malicious might have described her complexion as sallow; her mouth, though full, was not a very good shape, her teeth were slightly uneven and the heavy brows were a mixed blessing, for though they gave her face great character they were some­what overawing when seen close to.