The Rising Storm rb-3

by Dennis Wheatley

  "Far from it, Senorita. How could I, after the interest you displayed in—in my story ? But how comes it that instead of taking the road to the Pyrenees you are on that to Marseilles? Is it that you have, after all, abandoned your plan of rejoining your family?"

  "But no!" she exclaimed. "You must have misunderstood me. 'Tis true that I am on my way to rejoin my parents, but for some time past they have been resident in the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. I am proceeding to Marseilles with the object of taking a ship thence to Naples."

  "'Twas stupid of me," Roger murmured. "I had temporarily forgotten that Naples is also a Spanish Court."

  "It is an easy mistake to make; and my father retired there only after his differences with the old King."

  "Do you think you will enjoy life at the Neapolitan Court ?"

  She gave him a searching look. " 'Tis hard to say, Monsieur. The Two Sicilies have for so long been under Spanish influence that I cannot think the life of the aristocracy there differs much from what it is in Spain. If so, despite any new distractions in my altered status, I fear I shall soon be sadly missing the witty and intelligent society which I enjoyed while with Madame Marie Antoinette."

  Roger frowned. "Your mention of Her Majesty recalls me to my duty to her. By averaging sixty miles a day I had hoped to deliver her despatch to the Grand Duke somewhere about the middle of the month, but my prospects of being able to do so now seem far from good."

  "As you infer that you would have ridden all the way, I take it you meant to go via Lyons, Chambery and Turin?"

  "Yes, since 'tis May, and the passage of the Alps now open."

  "Yet had it been earlier in the year you would have had no choice but to go down to Marseilles, and take ship from there across the gulf to Leghorn. Now that it will prove impossible to ride, are you still set upon taking the Alpine route?"

  "Why, yes; for it is normally the quicker at this time of year whether one goes on horseback or in a post-chaise. What now perturbs me is that it may be some days before the chirurgeon permits me to resume my journey; and that even when he does I may find the jolting of a fast post-chaise so painful to my leg that I shall be able to bear it only for short stages."

  Isabella gave him a thoughtful look. "It was just that of which I was thinking. If during your convalescence you are reduced to going in short stages anyway, you would travel far more comfortably in a well-sprung coach."

  Suddenly Roger saw the way her mind was working. If he went via the Alps, as he had intended, their ways would part at Moulins, only a good day's journey further south. She wanted him to change his route so that she could keep him with her all the way to Marseilles. Next moment she disclosed her thought:

  "Even when the chirurgeon pronounces you fit to proceed, your wounds will require careful dressing for some days. Alone on the road to Italy you will be dependent for that on the unskilled ministrations of slatternly inn servants; whereas if you come with me in my coach we can look after you properly."

  Roger's brain was now revolving at high speed. Crippled as he was there would probably be little difference in the time it took him to reach Florence whether he went by land or sea. But the latter involved certain highly perturbing possibilities. He now had little doubt that from their first meeting in the forest of Fontainebleau Isabella d'Aranda had fallen in love with him. He was not in love with her, but he knew what propinquity could do to a man like himself who was easily attracted to pretty women. His heart was not made of the stuff to withstand for long the lure of being with her day after day for long hours in the close confinement of a coach. He knew that he would become more and more intrigued by her subtle charm until he gave way to the temptation to make love to her. And from that it might be but a short step to falling in love with her himself.

  Such a development could end only in the misery of a painful parting at Marseilles, followed perhaps by months of hopeless longings. It would be far kinder to her to let her go on alone while her feeling for him had so little to feed upon that it could soon be forgotten. And the caution he had inherited from his Scottish mother warned him that to do so would also save him from putting himself in a situation that he might later bitterly regret.

  "I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your thought for me, Senorita," he said, after only a moment's hesitation. "But I fear I must decline your offer. 'Tis true that when I set out again I may have to go carefully for the first few days, but after that I should be able to stand up to longer stages."

  Her dark brows drew together. "Yet you said yourself that you counted the safe delivery of Her Majesty's letter of paramount impor­tance, and speed only a secondary consideration."

  "Indeed I did. But what of it?"

  "You seem to have forgotten that you are no longer in a state to defend yourself, and are unlikely to be so for some time to come."

  "That is so, but now that I am well clear of Paris, why should I fear attack?"

  Isabella's brown eyes widened. "Surely, Monsieur, you realize that de Roubec, having seen you come to my rescue, may now think.."

  "De Roubec I" exclaimed Roger, starting up, then falling back at the sudden twinge his foot and arm gave him. "Do you mean that he was among the men who attacked your coach?"

  "Why, yes. He was one of those who pulled the Senora Poeblar from it. I recognized him despite his mask. Moreover, he got away unharmed by you, for 'twas his horse that Pedro shot in the buttocks."

  "I thought them ordinary highwaymen intent on robbery. But why, in Heaven's name, should de Roubec set upon you ?"

  She shrugged. "The Queen's enemies knew about that letter; they knew also that I am her friend and was about to proceed to Naples, from whence it would have been easy to send it by a safe hand up to Florence. What could be more natural than that she should entrust it to me?"

  "I wonder, now, that she did not adopt that course."

  ‘We talked of it, but decided that it was so obvious as to invite certain danger. In fact, at my suggestion we adopted the plan of using my departure as a red herring to cover your own. Her Majesty provided me with an escort of a half-troop of Monsieur d'Esterhazy's hussars, thus openly inferring that I was carrying something of special impor­tance. They could not be spared to accompany me further than Pouilly, but their presence assured me against attack for the first four days of my journey. We hoped that by then the enemy would have abandoned any hope of securing the letter; and in the meantime, while his interest had been concentrated upon myself, you would be clear of all danger, a hundred or more miles to the south."

  " 'Twas an admirable ruse," Roger commented. "But I am much perturbed to learn.."

  "Aye; yet it was brought to naught by de Roubec's following me further than we expected, and your arrival on the scene," she inter­rupted. "For though you failed to recognize him he will certainly have recognized you."

  "Even so, as far as we know, he has never had any cause to suspect that I was the bearer of the letter. On the contrary in fact, as otherwise instead of attacking your coach he would have attacked me."

  Isabella made a gesture of impatience. "But do you not see that last night's affray has altered everything? Since de Roubec remained uninjured 'tis certain that he will now be spying on us. Should he see you leave me, and on reaching Moulins turn east, taking the direct route to Italy, he is sure to think that I, fearing another attack from him, have passed the despatch on to you; and that you have agreed to take it to Florence for me."

  "That certainly is a possibility," Roger agreed, and even as he made the half-hearted attempt to temporize he knew that it was one that he could not afford to ignore. It was highly probable that de Roubec would reason that way; and if he were in the Due d'Orleans' pay he would have plenty of money; so, although his original gang of bullies had been wounded and dispersed, he would be able to hire others in some low tavern of Nevers.

  Leaning towards Roger, Isabella swiftly followed up her advantage. "From Nevers onward I intend to hire two armed guards to accompany the coach on e
ach further stage, so with my own three men and our­selves with our pistols we should form a party sufficiently formidable to frighten off attack. But if you set out alone in a post-chaise and are held up, once you have fired off your two pistols what hope would you have ?"

  "Plaguey little, I fear," Roger was forced to admit.

  "Then, Monsieur, I beg you to listen to reason. The safe conveyance of Her Majesty's letter is the thing that matters above all else, and you cannot deny that there will be less danger of its falling into her enemies' hands if you accept the protection I can offer you."

  Roger had done his best to evade a situation of which he feared the outcome both for her and for himself; but he now felt that he was cornered, so he gave in gracefully, and replied:

  "The last consideration certainly outweighs all others, Senorita. So I will gladly avail myself of your hospitality and protection as far as Marseilles."

  Isabella's sigh of satisfaction was almost audible, but she made an attempt to hide her pleasure at having got her way by quickly beginning to speculate on how long it would be before they could resume their journey.

  Now that the die was cast, and he appeared fated to spend a fortnight at the least as her constant companion, Roger felt that a few days more or less before they set out could make little difference to the outcome; but since travel by slow stages had been forced upon him he thought that he owed it to the Queen to get on the road again as soon as possible, so he said:

  "Were I still set on going by post-chaise and alone, no doubt the chirurgeon would insist on my remaining here for some days; but seeing that my fever has abated, and I am to have the benefit of being accom­panied by two excellent nurses in a well-sprung coach, I see no reason why he should not let us start tomorrow."

  She nodded. "Why not? And the gaining of those few days would, I am sure, ease any qualms you still may have at having forgone the more arduous and risky course in an attempt to get to Florence more quickly. But if we would avoid inviting a return of your fever we have talked enough for now. When the Senora Poeblar and the servants return from church I will send someone to ensure the chirurgeon coming to see you again this evening, and will make arrangements for the increase of our escort. Meanwhile try to sleep for a little; if you can it will do you good."

  Having had a good night, Roger did not feel like sleep, but he made a pretence of obeying her while actually continuing to watch her covertly from under his long lashes.

  Getting up she fetched a book from her valise and, sitting down again on the cushions close beside him, began to read it. Roger could see at a glance that it was in Greek, which surprised him for two reasons—firstly because it was unusual for ladies of that day to receive a classical educa­tion, and secondly because, seeing that it was Sunday, he would have expected her to read only books of devotions. It occurred to him then that it might be a Greek Testament, but, being an excellent classical scholar himself, further surreptitious glances told him that, far from it being anything of the sort, it was a copy of the Poems of Sappho.

  This small piece of information caused Roger to make a swift readjustment in his previous assessment of the Senorita d'Aranda. Intense, open and intelligent he already knew her to be, but an interest in Sappho indicated that she was by no means a prude. He began to think that however badly he might burn his fingers as a result of possible dalliance with this new flame, he was going to get more fun for his pains than he had at first supposed; and while considering that highly consoling assumption he quite unwittingly dropped off to sleep.

  It was, no doubt, his still youthful capacity for almost unlimited sleep, when not otherwise engaged, that played a big part in the swift restoration of his vitality after he had sustained any serious hurt or strain. When the doctor came that evening he pronounced the patient's progress to be excellent, and agreed that provided his foot was kept up on a cushion no harm should come of his making a twenty-mile stage in a comfortable coach the following day.

  Accordingly a leisurely start was made at nine o'clock next morning. Isabella insisted on Roger having the same corner seat, next the near window, as that in which she had brought him wounded from the field of honour; while, again, she sat next to him with Quetzal on her other side and the Senora Poeblar beyond the boy in the far corner. Room had been made for Maria on the front seat, opposite the Senora, and Roger's baggage was piled in with the rest. In addition to Pedro and Manuel with their blunderbusses on the boot and box, and Isabella's armed outrider, Hernando, they now had two tough-looking hired men, both carrying pistols and cutlasses, riding one either side of the coach. So as they left Nevers behind, perched so romantically upon its hill above the confluence of the Loire and the Allier, they felt that de Roubec would be hard put to it to muster a sufficient number of mounted ruffians to attack them with any hope of success.

  It was the 4th of May, the fateful day on which, provided there were no further postponements, the States General was to assemble for its first momentous meeting at Versailles; but Isabella d'Aranda's party gave it no thought as they knew that, even by fast courier, it must be several days before news of what had occurred could catch up with them.

  The weather was clement and the country through which they were passing mainly cultivated, as they were now on the fringe of the Bourbonnais, which contained some of the finest farming land in France. Roger was no agricultural expert but, like every Englishman of his day, he knew enough of farming to realize that the rich soil was not producing crops to one half the value of that in his native Hampshire —and the reason was not far to seek.

  Even the poorest nobility of France considered it beneath them to farm their own properties. Instead, they let it out in small holdings to the ignorant peasants on the evil metayer system, by which the tenant surrendered half his produce to his landlord in lieu of rent; so econo­mical tillage was impossible and such modern ideas as crop rotation entirely unknown. Whereas in England every big landowner for several generations past had taken the keenest interest in all new developments, and King George himself took pride in growing the biggest turnips in his realm.

  But for the first hour of the journey Roger was given little leisure to study the countryside, as Isabella had not yet heard a full account of his fight with de Roubec's men, and while he told her of it she had to translate the story bit by bit into Spanish for the benefit of the Senora Poeblar and little Quetzal.

  When he had done, she mentioned for the first time that they would not normally have been on the road so late in the evening had not one of the horses cast a shoe in mid-afternoon. That had slowed their pace to a walk for several miles, and held them up when they reached a wayside village for the best part of an hour while the smith was fetched from his field to re-shoe the horse. She added that she blamed herself for having let Hernando ride on ahead to secure accom­modation in Nevers, but it was a routine that they had adopted for the afternoon ever since leaving Fontainebleau, and she had not thought to alter it that morning after her escort of hussars had turned back.

  All things considered they thought themselves lucky to have escaped as lightly as they had. But they agreed that with the protection they now enjoyed there was a very good chance that de Roubec would throw in his hand, return to Paris and report that the task he had been given was beyond his powers of fulfilment.

  In the early afternoon they arrived at a little town called St. Pierre, where they meant to pass the night. The only inn there was the usual miserable place lacking both common rooms and glass windows; but it was one of the penalties of journeying by short stages that travellers who did so were forced to feed in their bedrooms. As Roger knew by experience, in such places single travellers often had to share a room with one or more strangers, the landlord was also usually the cook and the chambermaids, almost invariably ugly, uncouth slatterns. There was never any garden to sit out in, the beds were bug-ridden and the other furniture either of the poorest quality or non-existent. The only point in which they were superior to their English counterparts w
as that they offered not more, but a greater variety of food.

  However, persons of quality who travelled in France took every precaution to minimize such discomforts, carrying with them their own beds, window curtains, and even folding furniture, as though they were proceeding on a military campaign. And Isabella was no exception to the rule. In half an hour the best of the three rooms in the place had been made tolerably comfortable, and Roger installed on his own bedroll to rest after his journey. He still felt weak from his loss of blood, so dozed for most of the rest of the day, while Isabella whiled away the time playing chess with her duenna.

  The following day they moved on to Moulins, and found it a sur­prisingly poor, ill-built town for the capital of the rich Bourbonnais and seat of the King's Intendant. The Belle Image, at which they put up, proved a more spacious but scarcely cleaner hostelry than the pigsty in which they had passed the previous night, and on Roger sending out for news-sheets he was surprised to learn that none was available, even in the cafes. As with everywhere else in France, the town was agog with political speculations, but all were based on the wildest rumours and authentic news entirely lacking.

  On the 6th they passed through pleasant country again, making a slightly longer stage of thirty miles, to St. Pourcain. They arrived to find the place in a tumult, and it transpired that a foreigner had been arrested on suspicion of most nefarious designs. Further enquiry elicited the fact that he was a German who had been caught pacing out the measurements of some fields just outside the town and making notes of their acreage in a little book. Later, when his papers were examined, it emerged that he was a perfectly honest gentleman with large estates in Pomerania, who, on travelling through the Bour­bonnais, had been struck with the richness of its soil compared with his own semi-sterile lands, and had formed the project of buying a property in the neighbourhood. But it was several hours before the local authori­ties could persuade the angry, ignorant peasantry that he was not an agent of the Queen who had been sent to measure their land with a view to doubling the taxes upon it.