“Your father won’t like you going away again.”
“He won’t know I’m gone, if nobody tells him. Georges can manage the business with help from Emile. Tell my father I’ve gone to Vizille to talk to a new customer, that’s plausible enough. He’s sinking fast and getting more and more muddled every day. Between you all, you should be able to keep the truth from him.”
“What if he dies before you get back?”
I shrugged. “He dies.”
“Suppose he asks for you?”
“Say I was there, but have gone again. He won’t remember and he’s always put the needs of the business before his family. Tell him I’m doing the same.”
We were silent, looking into the flames and my eyes started closing. I fell asleep, with Eugénie’s arms around me.
I woke in the darkness, to someone shaking me.
“Get up,” Eugénie said as she lit a candle. “It is almost time for you to leave.” She had built up the fire and the light was enough to see that her face looked tired and strained. “I have brought water for you to wash.” She pointed to the table where she had set a steaming pan and a bowl. I made a hasty toilette while she fetched me breakfast, only some bread and cheese and watered wine. Indeed I did not really want to eat anything at all, I felt too uneasy and my insides were churning. Eugénie bustled away again and I thought she was on some errand but, when she returned, she chivvied the children before her into the room. They were still in their nightclothes and were rubbing the sleep from their eyes.
“Eugénie! Whatever did you wake them up for?” I cried, catching the baby, Françoise, before she fell over.
“They need to say goodbye to you,” she said tonelessly, but I caught the underlying fear in her voice.
“Where are you going, Papa?” Jean asked.
“I’m going on the Emperor’s business.”
“But isn’t the Emperor on that island?” Aimée protested, looking puzzled.
“I will explain it all to you later,” Eugénie said. “Kiss Papa goodbye now. He has to leave.”
I kissed the children and Eugénie helped me into my old riding coat. She had saddled my horse for me already and tied on the saddlebags. I put my guns into their holsters.
“Take care,” she said, her lips were trembling.
“You also.” I tipped up her chin so I could look into her eyes. “I am coming home, my darling. This is not our last goodbye, you must believe that. Do you?”
She hesitated and then nodded, more because I wanted her to than because she believed it herself. I did not know then how very nearly she was right. Another kiss, a wave to the children huddled round the door, and I cantered down the avenue towards Grenoble.
Chapter 4
First light saw me in the Emperor’s presence once again. I was half asleep from the uneasy rest I had managed to snatch. Napoleon was already dressed and shaved, ready to begin his own journey. He certainly looked better than I did. He grinned when he looked at me, taking in my tired eyes and the stubble on my cheeks. I had no time to shave in all the rush. He made no comment, however. I bowed to him and he picked up a letter from the table behind him and handed it to me. The wafer was sealed with the familiar green wax and bearing his crest of the bumblebee.
“Take this to the Duc d’Otrante,” he ordered and I realised why he had been so glad to see me in the crowd and why he wanted me to carry this letter. Fouché was his Minister of Police, a former Jacobin and regicide, now a duke of Napoleon’s making. Fouché retreated from Paris when the Bourbons arrived and waited to see what would happen. He was still waiting from all accounts. We worked together for years and I knew things about him that he kept carefully hidden from others.
“Do you know where he is, Sire?”
“At Point Carré, or so my sources tell me. Seek him there first. If he isn’t there, his people will have news of him.”
“I will go there, Sire, but his house is sure to be watched and I may fail to get the letter through.”
“If you have to, open the letter and memorise its contents. Then destroy it, so it is not found on you. You may appear merely as one gentleman visiting another. If I hear nothing from either of you in ten days, I will send other messengers. When you see Fouché, say that I need him to return and take over the Ministry of Police again. I will reward him well. If he proves recalcitrant, remind him of the things he has done that the Bourbons do not yet know about. You have an agile tongue. Use it. He is necessary to me.”
I bowed. “Yes, Sire, with luck I will bring him. Certainly I will do my best.”
Napoleon wished me well and I left him.
Although it was always advisable to carry out the Emperor’s orders as quickly as possible, I could not leave Grenoble immediately. I needed to speak to Emile and Georges.
Emile was awake, as I expected him to be. I was surprised Sophie was not still with him, but he had sent her up to bed so we would be able to talk in peace.
“How is she?” I asked with a grin, knowing my sister when she is excited.
“Well enough. She kept describing what happened over and over again. Now tell me what you want me to do.”
“Don’t bother about Georges now,” he said when I finished my tale. “I’ll make sure he understands what to do and the others as well. How long do you think you’ll be away?”
“I can’t tell you. Might be a couple of weeks or a couple of months. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“It may not be soon enough for you to see your father again, you know that?”
I nodded. “Don’t tell him where I am going.”
“I won’t.”
He got up, took a paper from his writing desk and brought it over to me.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“A warrant enabling me to act on your behalf, in the interests of the business and your wife and children, while you’re absent. I drew it up while I waited for you. It makes everything legal, in case anyone questions me or, God forbid, you never come back.”
“I’ll certainly be back.”
He gripped my shoulder. “I know that and I’ve every faith in you but these are dangerous times. I have to think of all possibilities. Lawyers do. You’ll be in the thick of whatever happens, unless you can escape. Better to be prepared for the worst. I’ll be delighted to rip up this warrant when you are safely back with us again.”
Emile went to the door and called two of his servants, who acted as witnesses to my signature.
“I’ll look after Eugénie and the children, never fear. Go and do what you have to do and come back quickly, otherwise...”
“Otherwise?”
“I’ll never hear the last of it from Sophie.”
Several days later, I found Fouché at Point Carré, without experiencing any more trouble than a lame horse and wet roads. The journey went much better than it had done in the autumn. On horseback, I was able to make a faster speed than the lumbering diligence. I came to the park gates in the afternoon, and asked the guard if his master was at home. Apparently he was. I waited and walked my horse while one of the men went to enquire. I gave them my name and the fact I was on official business, whose I did not say. I saw no sign of anyone else other than Fouché’s men. At least they were wearing his livery. If his house had been watched by the Bourbons’ spies, they had been withdrawn, possibly as news of the Emperor’s progress spread. The answer to my request came back quickly enough and I was admitted to the house. One of the grooms took my horse away to the stables and a servant led me into a comfortable room lined with books.
As usual, Fouché treated me with courtesy, asking me to be seated and giving me a glass of fine wine. Then he broke the seal on his letter. He frowned as he read and I took the opportunity to study him. He had aged since the last time I saw him. His dark hair was laced more strongly with silver and his face had become thinner. Wearing black, as he always did, he gave me the impression of a crow, about to peck at something on the ground. Then he looked up and his
hooded eyes, boring into mine, reinforced the fancy. Fouché has never been physically intimidating. He is a slight man, with the appearance of the teacher of mathematics he was, before the Revolution made him both a murderer and a regicide. It is the power of his eyes and the sharpness of his mind that intimidates. I felt the impact even in his quiet library.
“Where is he now?” he asked me when he finished reading.
“I met him in Grenoble on the tenth. He was leaving before me and heading for his uncle at Lyon.”
“Ah yes. Our old friend Fesch, still Cardinal and Archbishop, in spite of his nephew’s downfall.” I nodded. “Then the Emperor will be in Paris soon, unless the King’s forces destroy him.”
“Do you think they will?”
Fouché smiled his cold smile. “It’s unlikely that the Emperor would have embarked on this campaign without good reason or the support of at least part of the army. Given sufficient soldiers, the Emperor is a genius, as we both know.”
“What will you do, Monsigneur?” I asked. I had composed several speeches on the journey, ready to persuade him to follow his orders. None of them were needed. His response surprised me.
“Why, travel to Paris, of course, in time to meet him at the Tuileries.” I must have looked shocked at his quick decision, so he continued, “Ask yourself this, mon ami, who is the more likely to win in this encounter, Louis XVIII or Napoleon?”
No one could accuse the fat Bourbon king of being a soldier and he did not pretend to be. Yet it was a desperate gamble for all that. Everything would depend on what the other countries of Europe decided to do. Most of them had been over-run by the Emperor at one time or another. I could not believe that they would allow Napoleon take the crown of France again without a battle. Then Fouché said something which shocked me even more.
“You will accompany me to Paris.”
“Monseigneur?” I tried to keep the horror out of my voice, but one look at his face told me I had not succeeded. “I hoped to return home once I delivered the Emperor’s message to you.” I managed to blurt out.
He looked at me bleakly. “Put your hopes aside. I need you and others like you until we have seen the result of this little adventure. Then you can go home and so can I.” The last words were almost a sigh and made me wonder about him. I had never known Fouché except when he was deep in intrigue. I could not imagine him being content in a quiet country life, but perhaps he was.
We rode into Paris: myself, Fouché, two servants and a few of his retainers. When we crossed the Place Vendôme, we saw a huge sign hanging between the trees. It said “From Napoleon to Louis XVIII: my dear brother, it is not necessary to send me more troops, I already have enough of them!” Even Fouché stopped to laugh at that.
“As I predicted,” he said to me in a quiet voice. “Louis will never keep him out of Paris. Whether he can keep it forever is another matter.”
We reached the city before the Emperor. After a quick stop at his hôtel, where several people were waiting to see him, Fouché and I went straight to the Tuileries. We waited there for Napoleon’s arrival, even though it was almost midnight.
“I might need you,” he said. “Stay with me.”
Rumour said that the Emperor was even now approaching the city gate. We stood in the entrance to the palace with some other people, including Queen Hortense, who was shivering with cold and anticipation. We were in time to watch the Emperor galloping along the street, lit by flickering torches. He came straight towards us, his men trailing behind him as usual, trying to keep up. The crowd was roaring their support,
“Vive l’Empéreur!”
The noise seemed to echo off the surrounding buildings and the din was deafening. At that instant I thought the Emperor would succeed. I forgot about the other nations surrounding us and lost myself in that strange and never to be repeated moment when Napoleon was cheered home through Paris. I would have shouted also, but Fouché did not make a sound. He stood there with his lips pressed together and a deep frown on his face.
The Emperor came to the bottom of the steps, dismounted and the people surged around him. They boosted him to their shoulders and carried him into the palace and up the grand staircase. Fouché and I were brushed aside in the crush. The last time I saw Fouché, he was fighting his way out of the mêlée towards one of the side rooms. Then I lost sight of him and did not see him any more that night.
I had no particular wish to stay. It would certainly be many hours before the crowd dispersed and Napoleon turned to business, if at all. I would not be needed immediately and I was tired. I sidled into the back passages and found one of the doors that led out onto the Rue de Rivoli. I thanked heaven for the fact that I knew the Tuileries so well. This was just one in a series of adventures in the building. I hurried outside, crossed the river and sought out Fournier.
I wasn’t sure he would be at home with all the excitement going on and he wasn’t. His wife, Berthe, greeted me with hugs and squeals.
“Why aren’t you out with him?” I asked after I answered her questions about Eugénie and why I had come back so soon.
“I’m too old to go out into that mob, to be pummelled and bruised for no good reason. More fool Claude! He’s too nosey for his own good.”
She made me sit by the fire while she brewed me some coffee and fed me on soup and bread.
I had barely satisfied her curiosity about my new home and what was happening in the Tuileries, when Fournier arrived. Then I had to start the whole story all over again.
“Fat Louis bolted last night, good riddance to him,” Fournier told me when I finished. “And you’ll like this – Laurent’s vanished as well.”
“Good riddance to him also. Who’s left?”
“Rollin, as you might expect; he’s too wily to be caught taking sides in any quarrel.” I nodded. “Réal, but for how much longer I don’t know. The usual crowd in fact.”
“Lefebvre?”
“Haven’t seen much of him since you left. Not sure where he is now.”
“I’ll look for him tomorrow.”
Berthe Fournier insisted I stay with them, until we knew what was happening and I was happy to accept her invitation. Indeed, I came here hoping she would make the offer. Our apartment had been given up when we left and it was late to be trying to find a lodging for the night. Not that I had much time to sleep. Fournier and I stayed up talking over old times and this new adventure, while we finished a bottle or two of red wine. We both dozed off beside the fire.
Next day I awoke cramped and still tired. It was not until I had eaten and drunk some coffee that I could get some of the knots out of my spine and my legs.
“It’s the price of you,” Berthe muttered over the noise of Fournier’s groaning. “You both had good beds to go to. Pair of drunken sots.”
I decided not to go into the Ministry immediately. Everything was sure to be at sixes and sevens and I did not want any part in the chaos. Fouché had told me on our journey that Napoleon had appointed him Minister of Police again and he was going to accept the position. He would be confirmed in his role by now and who better than a sly old fox in times of trouble? The fox would have to stay loyal, of course, and that was the problem.
Fouché wanted me to work for him for the present. He did not know how many of the present staff he could trust. I had no option but to accept. Fouché is even better at bearing grudges than Napoleon. In return, he promised to release me as soon as he could.
I had something far more important to do this morning than waiting around in the Ministry, kicking my heels.
“If anyone asks for me, tell them I’ll be in this afternoon. I don’t want to get caught up in all the panic,” I told Fournier. “I’m going to find Lefebvre.”
“I thought you’d want to watch them squirm, wondering if they were safe or for the chop,” he said.
“I can live without it,” I replied.
“You’ve gone soft, mon ami, a little revenge is a sweet thing,” he said as I went out. I wo
ndered. Perhaps he was right, but I no longer cared. Maybe those peaceful months in Grenoble changed something inside me.
Lefebvre, my closest friend, also welcomed me with glee. “I’ve missed you, mon brave,” he said with a grin. “More than I expected to.”
“I’ve missed you too, you old rogue,” I said, giving him a hug. “Come with me. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Certainly. If you’re buying.”
We went to one of our favourite haunts, where we were well known. The landlord greeted us with acclaim. So he should. We had spent enough money in his tavern over the years.
“I thought you’d gone away,” he said to me.
“I did but I’m back.”
“Good,” he said and brought us a bottle. “On the house, this one. Welcome back.”
“Why are you back?” Lefebvre asked. “Your Papa throw you out? Or is it something else?”
“Something else. The Emperor to be precise.”
“The Emperor? Didn’t think you were a supporter of his.”
“I am and I’m not, as you know well. I haven’t changed my mind about him, but he’s better than those fools we’ve had for a year. I wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t been unlucky.”
“Oh? How?” he asked, so I told him the story.
“Trust you,” he said, with a laugh, “to fall off a wall at the wrong time. So Fouché’s back too, is he?” I nodded. “Surprised he came.”
“He thinks the Emperor’s more likely to win than Louis.”
“It’s what Austria, Russia and England do that matters. They’re unlikely to do nothing while France rearms.”
“I agree with you.” I said. “The Emperor’s taking a huge risk; God knows where it will all end.”
“Glory or destruction. Isn’t that always the way with him? What are you going to do?”
“Obey orders and return to my old job, for a little while at least. I could use your help.”
“As always. Where would you be without me, Soldier?”
Duval at Waterloo Page 4