Roger was silent for a moment, then he said: “I care naught for an encounter with him; but if you fear he would attempt your life as well, I dare not risk it.”
“He would! I know it! Did he surprise us together he would do his utmost to kill the two of us.”
“Then I’ll not come tonight. Somehow I will get my departure postponed for twenty-four hours. And in some way I’ll lure Don Diego from the house tomorrow night. I’ll come to you then and bring a carriage with me. That will give you ample time to decide upon our future. If ’tis favourable to me, I beg you have your things packed and Maria and Quetzal ready to leave with you; for we must take advantage of the night to get away unseen.”
With the tears streaming down her face Isabella nodded dumbly. Then, as he released her, she swayed and fainted. Catching her in his arms again, he laid her on a couch, and dashed out of the room.
At breakneck speed he rode out to Caserta; and, as he entered the fine avenue of elms that led to the palace, the clear single note of one came to him from a clock in the stables behind it.
In view of the comparative smallness of the Kingdom of Naples the size of the palace astonished him, for, as he galloped up the straight towards its thousand-foot-long façade, the building seemed positively immense. But the thought was only a passing one. Leaving his sweating mount with one of the grooms at the main entrance, he mopped the sweat from his own brow and hurried inside.
The entrance hall, great staircase and galleries around it were even more astonishing than the exterior, as they were entirely fashioned from the most rare and costly marbles, but his surprise was still further added to by the fact that there was hardly anybody about. A swift enquiry from a portly factotum produced the laconic reply that His Majesty was out hunting and might not yet be back for some time. Roger was furious. He had curtailed his all-important interview with Isabella, winded Sir William’s best horse, and had his gruelling ride, all quite unnecessarily.
The official pointed through the open door to an upward slope of the park beyond which he said the royal party would be found; so, having given his horse a good breather, Roger mounted again and set off in that direction. On the far side of the hill he arrived at a big enclosure with rustic arbours for protection from the rain, and in it was the Queen surrounded by most of her Court. The enclosure faced towards a natural amphitheatre of woods so that the spectators had a fine view of the sport which was in progress. In the woods hundreds of beaters were banging kettles and firing off petards so that the game, which consisted of deer, boar, hares and foxes, should be driven out into the open for the King to shoot at.
After watching for a few moments Roger found Sir William, who apologised with a wry smile for having caused him to hurry his departure from Naples unnecessarily, and explained the present situation by adding that the King had found the sport so good that he had sent a message at midday saying that he intended to prolong his shoot for an hour longer than usual. He then took Roger to the Queen, who had General Acton beside her, and they both received him with marked kindness.
Half an hour later King Ferdinand reached the enclosure. His hair was tousled and he was dressed so like a peasant that he could easily have been mistaken for one. When Roger commented in a low voice to Sir William on the Sovereign’s strange choice of costume, the diplomat laughed and replied:
“Nothing delights him more than to be taken by some young beater who does not know him for one of themselves, and egging the poor fool on to grumble to him about what a bad King he is. But such episodes do not cause him to become a better ruler. He regards the matter as a joke, and does not even give the fellow who has amused him a sixpence. He is much too mean for that.”
In a fine good humour the boorish King watched the big bag of mixed game he had shot piled in a small mountain at the Queen’s feet. Then, when this ceremony was over, the company entered a row of waiting carriages and was driven back to the palace.
A huge meal followed the hunt and when everyone had eaten their fill the King sent for a blanket. On seeing it brought in Sir William tapped Roger on the arm and whispered: “Quick! Follow me, or you’ll rue it.”
Much mystified Roger got up, and slipped after his mentor to the nearest doorway. As he did so he noticed that quite a number of other courtiers who had been standing about were making unostentatiously for the entrances, and on catching Sir William up he asked what was afoot.
“Watch from here and you will see,” replied the diplomat, entrenching himself behind one of the great marble pillars that flanked the door, “I have seen him play this game before, and know its sequel.”
As Roger watched, the King began to undress himself, and although the ladies pretended to hide their blushes behind their fans they were clearly much amused. When His Majesty was stark naked, he stepped on to the middle of the blanket, which had been spread out on the floor, and, at his order, twelve lusty footmen began to toss him in it. “One! Two! Three!” chanted the footmen, and up towards the ceiling sailed the nude monarch.
A dozen times he was shot into the air, amidst clapping of hands and shouts of applause. Then, having ordered a halt, he scrambled out of the blanket, pointed at a fat man near by who had been laughing heartily, and cried: “You next! Your turn next.”
In vain the fat man protested. He had to submit to the King’s will, undress himself and be tossed in the blanket.
“You see,” remarked Sir William to Roger, “from what I have saved you. That unfortunate is a German diplomat but recently arrived here; and as you are also a stranger His Majesty would certainly have had you tossed had his eye lighted on you.”
Roger was quick to voice his thanks, and they remained carefully concealed from the royal buffoon’s eye while half a dozen other victims suffered a similar indignity to that undergone by the German. At length the Queen persuaded his Neapolitan Majesty to dress, and with tears of mirth still streaming from his eyes he was led away between her and General Acton to the council chamber.
They remained in council only half an hour, then General Acton came out to Sir William and Roger, and told them that King Ferdinand had formally consented to receive the Dauphin in his realm. He added that it was Her Majesty’s wish that a sloop of the Royal Neapolitan Navy should be placed at Roger’s disposal to carry him back to France as soon as possible; but that she wished him to bear a letter for her to Madame Marie Antoinette, which she would write that night, so he was to wait upon her to receive it the following morning.
At the mention of the sloop Roger’s heart had gone down into his boots, as he had feared to receive an order for his instant departure; but the codicil about carrying the letter restored his equilibrium, and he breathed again.
When the Prime Minister had left them, Sir William said: “I keep up a small villa just outside the park, to spare myself the inconvenience of having to return to Naples every night when the Court is resident at Caserta. I shall be happy to offer you a bed there.”
“I thank you, sir, but I beg you to excuse me,” Roger replied. “Owing to my hasty departure from the capital this morning, my business there is not yet concluded. Fortunately I have not been bidden to attend the Court this evening, so with your leave I propose to return to Naples.”
Sir William gave an understanding nod. “ ’Tis certain that Her Majesty will expect to see you at supper; but since she has issued no command for your appearance, you are free to do as you wish. She will have ample time to talk further with you in the morning. I suggest that you should be here not later than eleven o’clock, as she does her business from that hour onwards.”
“I will be on hand at that hour without fail, sir.” Roger paused a moment, then went on: “My business tonight concerns a Signora Goudar. I wonder if you can tell me anything of her?”
“I can tell you that she is plaguey expensive.” Sir William eyed Roger speculatively through his quizzing glass. “Unless you have five hundred guineas to throw away, and are more of a fool than I take you to be, you will find a less ruinous wanton wi
th whom to pass the night.”
“Five hundred guineas!” repeated Roger, shocked into a vulgar whistle. “Strap me, sir. But she must be the eighth wonder of the world to demand such a sum for her favours.”
“She is not far from it,” came the quiet murmur. “Few women that I have met are more beautiful, her conversation is delightful, and her career at least unusual.”
“I pray you inform me of it, sir; though I assure you that I wish to meet the lady only on a matter of business.”
“Then I must give you another warning. Her husband is a rogue of the first water and she is his willing accomplice. As you may know, gambling is forbidden by law in Naples; with the inevitable result that even the beggars gamble in the gutters, and the rich, having no public casinos to go to, feel the greater itch to stake their money, so get themselves fleeced nightly in private houses where professional games are run. Goudar is the proprietor of the establishment most frequented by Neapolitan society. Thousands of guineas are often won or lost there at a single sitting, and Madame Goudar acts as the lure to draw rich foreigners into this gilded thieves’-kitchen.”
“I had no thought to gamble, either, sir. ’Tis another person’s business upon which I wish to see the lady.”
“Even so you may burn your fingers unless you have a care. A combination of brains and beauty make the Goudars a pair of cheats second to none in my experience.”
Roger fingered the lace at his throat. “I will heed your warning well, Sir William. But you intrigue me mightily. I pray you tell me Madame Goudar’s history.”
“Some sixteen years ago the lovely Sara was a little slut serving in a London tavern. She had hardly a rag to her back and could neither read nor write. Goudar saw her there and with the eye of a connoisseur appreciated the fact that one day she would be a remarkable beauty, He took the child away, made her his mistress, and spent six years in educating her. He was abundantly repaid for his trouble, for she proved quick to learn, and now, or even when he first brought her to Naples, I would defy you to detect that she had not been brought up among people of the first quality. On arriving here he devised a most skilful expedient for drawing attention to this beautiful little stool pigeon, that he had reared with such care; he made her appear in sackcloth and publicly renounce the Protestant religion as the work of the Devil.”
“What a monstrous thing to do!” exclaimed Roger.
“Not at all,” laughed Sir William, “for she was of Irish descent and birth, had been baptised into the Catholic faith as an infant, and had never subscribed to any other.”
Roger joined in the laugh. “What a delightful cheat! They certainly deserved to do well for themselves.”
“And they did,” Sir William rejoined. “The Neapolitan nobility flocked to Goudar’s house to make the acquaintance of the beautiful apostate, and their gaming-room prospered exceedingly. But more, the ladies were so intrigued that they wanted to know her too; and her manners were so charming, her taste so exquisite, her ton so exactly right, that she acquired the friendship of many of the best-born women in Naples, including even that of the Queen. She does not, of course, visit them, owing to the anomaly of her position, but they visit her; and in the afternoons there are often half a dozen titled ladies to be found taking a dish of tea with her in her apartment.”
“ ’Tis an amazing achievement for one of such lowly beginnings,” Roger murmured, “and makes me all the more eager to meet her.”
“They had one setback,” Sir William remarked. “It was several years ago, round about ’82, I think, as it was at the time that a notorious rogue called Giacomo Casanova was living in Naples, and held a partnership in Goudar’s crooked bank. King Ferdinand took a fancy to the lovely Sara Goudar, and rumour has it that she was not unkind to His Majesty. In any case, the Queen found a billet-doux from her in the King’s pocket, with the result that the Goudars were promptly sent into exile. But after eighteen months they returned, and ever since have enjoyed such an admirable prosperity that Sara will not even consider an offer for a single night with her if it be less than five hundred guineas.”
It was now getting on for seven o’clock, so Roger thanked Sir William for his valuable information and excused himself to return to Naples. By half-past eight he arrived at Crocielles, supped there and secured the address of the Goudars’ house. After what he had heard from Sir William of Madame Goudar’s firm adherence to her enormous fee he was far from sanguine about his chances of bringing to fruition the plot he had hatched; but he could think of no other way of securing his own ends, so desperation drove him on to attempt it, and soon after ten he knocked at Goudar’s front door.
A negro porter dressed in scarlet livery opened it. On seeing Roger’s well-groomed appearance and learning that he was an Englishman who had come from Crocielles the porter made no difficulty about letting him in. A footman took his cloak and hat, asked him to be good enough to leave his sword in the sword-rack, and conducted him upstairs.
He was ushered into a big, comfortably furnished salon. It contained only one large table at its far end, and at that, owing to the early hours which were kept in Naples, the game was already in full swing. About a dozen men were seated at it and most of them wore broadbrimmed straw hats, which looked incongruous in conjunction with their satin clothes, but were part of the stock-in-trade of such places, as they shaded the eyes of the gamblers from the strong light thrown from the multi-branched pair of candelabra on the table. On a sofa at the end of the room nearest the door a lady was sitting, holding a small court of four cavaliers, but as Roger entered she at once stood up, left them and came over to greet him.
She curtsied, he made a leg, then introduced himself. As he did so he had no doubt at all that he was addressing the remarkable Sara. Her hair was beautifully coiffured and powdered, so he could not tell if it was black, but in all other respects she possessed the typical colouring of an Irish colleen. Her eyes were a midnight blue, her lips cherry red, her brows arched and dark, her skin fresh, and her cheeks held a rosy flush that art might have added to but could not have simulated. Her figure was well rounded; and if she was on the wrong side of thirty, as from what Sir William had said she must be, she certainly did not look it. Roger agreed with the diplomat’s estimate that she was an outstandingly handsome woman.
She had greeted him in French, which she spoke almost as fluently as himself, so for a few minutes he conversed with her in that language. With long-practised skill she plumbed him with the utmost discretion on his visit to Naples and his acquaintances there. Then, quickly satisfied by his air of breeding and casual mention of a few of the leading families, she led him over to the gaming table and introduced him to her husband.
Goudar was holding the bank. He was a small, sharp-featured man, with a guilelessly innocent expression. After bowing politely to Roger he gave him a swift appraising glance, then waved him to a chair. Roger pulled out a fistful of gold ducats, put them on the table, and was dealt a hand of cards in the next round. He had not the least desire to play, but felt that to win the goodwill that was so imperative to the success of his plan he must lose a certain amount for the good of the house.
As so frequently happens in such cases, he positively could not lose. He was very far from being one of the highest players at the table, so Goudar showed no particular interest in him, obviously regarding him as one of the casual visitors to Naples who was no true gambler but just liked an occasional flutter, and normally left a score or so of ducats behind which helped to pay the running expenses of the establishment. When such people went away in pocket they usually came another night and lost their winnings with a bit more in addition. When they did not they were a good advertisement to the place and its proprietor’s apparent honesty.
After an hour’s play Roger found himself nearly forty ducats to the good, so deciding not to waste any more time he picked up his winnings and left the table.
Madame Goudar had from time to time been over to see how Fortune was treating the
gamblers. She now got up at once and came to meet Roger. With a charming smile she said: “Monsieur is in luck tonight. But he will come again to give my husband his revenge; is it not so?”
Roger returned the smile, but shook his head. “Alas, Madame, my time in Naples is short; yet, all the same, I would not have you be the loser by my visit.” Then, taking her hand, he poured the fistful of gold that he had won into it, and added: “These are to buy roses for you, Madame; but no roses that you can buy will equal those you already carry in your cheeks.”
Her blue eyes lit with swift appreciation of his gesture and compliment; then with a modesty all the more fascinating from being unexpected, she veiled them with her long, dark, curling lashes, and murmured: “Ca’cest tres gentille, Monsieur.”
“Non, Madame; c’est une tribute juste,” replied Roger.
Suddenly she lifted her eyes and asked shrewdly: “Why do you do this, Monsieur? You are both young and handsome, and men who are that are rarely rich.”
“Because I would crave a few words with you apart, Madame.”
She smiled again, and beckoned him to a smaller settee, out of earshot of both the gaming table and the big sofa round which she had been holding her little court of changing men ever since Roger had arrived. As they sat down she said quite simply: “You wish to make your suit with me?”
“Nay, Madame,” he replied frankly. “Were I to be longer in Naples I would be greatly tempted to haunt your doorstep until you either gave in or drove me from it; but tonight I come to plead the suit of another.”
He caught her glance of surprise, but went on quickly: “I have reason to believe that Don Diego de Sidonia y Ulloa is quite mad about you, yet you are so stony-hearted as to treat him with disdain.”
Instantly she stiffened, and asked: “Is he, then, a friend of yours?”
“Hardly that, Madame. No more than an acquaintance; yet I am vastly concerned that you should regard his suit with greater kindness.”
“Why should I?” she replied, with a hard note in her voice. “I am no ordinary courtesan, to jump into bed at any man’s bidding. Time was when I had to oblige certain of our best patrons, but thank God ’tis no longer so. At a price I am still willing to consider giving myself to a man from whom I shall derive little pleasure, providing he be reasonably personable. Don Diego fails to raise a flicker in me, and so far he has come up to only half the price I ask. Why should I put myself out to oblige that stiff-necked Spaniard?”
The Rising Storm Page 43