The Wanton Princess

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘I heard so on my way north, Sire; and am happy to congratulate Your Majesty upon now being King as well as Emperor, for I am told that you crowned yourself King of Italy in Milan Cathedral.’

  ‘Yes. You should have been there, Breuc. It was a splendid spectacle. But while I was away a hundred matters got out of hand here; so I left young Beauharnais as my Viceroy and hurried back. We did the journey from Milan to Fontainebleau in eighty-five hours. Things here now are in better trim but I’ll need another week or so before I can leave for the coast. You will, of course, come with me. In the meantime see Decrès at the Ministry of Marine. Give him an account of the battle off Finisterre, but of nothing else. I do not wish him to know that your voyage to the Indies had any other reason than to restore your health.’

  The following morning Roger made his report to the Minister of Marine. When he had done Decrès said, ‘I am inclined to agree with the Emperor that Villeneuve was wrong in not continuing up the Channel even if he had to engage Admiral Calder again. Although his superiority in ships was negligible, by detaching a fast frigate and sending it across the Bay of Biscay he could have brought the Rochefort squadron out to his assistance, which would have given him sufficient odds to win the battle. But His Majesty is far from being right in most of his naval appreciations. For example, it is his own fault that Gantheaume’s fleet is not now at sea.’

  ‘How so, Your Excellency?’ Roger enquired.

  The Minister made an unhappy grimace, ‘His orders to Gantheaume were that he was not to break out of Brest should it entail a battle. When Admiral Nelson was known to be on his way to the West Indies, the blockading fleet at Brest became so reduced in numbers that Gantheaume could easily have defeated it. He asked permission to do so, but the Emperor would not agree. Since then the English have been reinforced, so the opportunity was lost.’

  ‘Before Nelson can return from the Indies there may come another,’ Roger hazarded.

  Decrès shrugged ‘There may. If the Emperor orders Villeneuve up from Cadiz he could raise the blockade long enough for Gantheaume to break out; then, at last, we’d be masters of the Channel. But for how long? Unfortunately Mis Majesty refuses to face the fact that ship for ship we are not equal to the English, so basing operations simply on counting hulks leads to false assumptions. I have warned him of this many times but he refuses to listen. And my fear is that, even if we can concentrate a large enough fleet to cover the launching of the invasion, within a week or so Nelson will arrive on the scene and, even with one-third fewer ships than we have at our disposal, inflict a crushing defeat on us. Then our Army in England would be cut off.’

  That, too, was Roger’s belief, and he left the unhappy Decrès with the thought that of all posts the one he would least like to occupy was that of Napoleon’s Minister of Marine.

  Two days later he breakfasted with his old friend Talleyrand and found the Foreign Minister also in a far from optimistic frame of mind. After describing the Italian journey, on which he had accompanied the Emperor, he said:

  ‘But I fear he may have to pay a price for his antics as cock-of-the-walk while in Italy. The Lombards were by no means averse to having their Republic converted into a Monarchy, but they would naturally have preferred to have as their ruler one of their own people rather than Josephine’s boy Eugène, and they resent intensely the hordes of French officials that remain there battening upon them. The same applies to the territories of Piombino and Lucca which he has given to his sisters. Not content with that he has made the entire Ligurian Republic a part of France.

  ‘Mr. Pitt, meanwhile, remains our deadly enemy. Soon after you sailed for the Indies, the Emperor sent another letter to King George III proposing a cessation of hostilities; but the British Cabinet refused even to discuss the matter, and ’tis clear that they have strong hopes that Napoleon’s ambitions may yet bring about his downfall.

  ‘For many months past Mr. Pitt has been working tirelessly to bring about a third Coalition against us, and the Emperor has played into his hands. Our unpopularity in Italy has reached a point where the Italians would welcome the Austrians back if only they could get rid of us, and that has encouraged Vienna to contemplate another attempt to regain her old possessions in the peninsula. The Czar, too, displayed intense resentment at our incorporating the Ligurian Republic into France; so both Austria and Russia are, I am convinced, already secretly concerting measures with England. So I’d willingly wager that we’ll have another Continental war on our hands before the autumn is out.’

  ‘What view does the Emperor take of this new threat?’ Roger enquired.

  Talleyrand shrugged, ‘Cher ami, he has become so confident of himself that he does not give a button. And should his invasion of England succeed he’ll have no need to. Without the great subsidies that England always pays to keep her allies’ armies in the field, they would not even start a war or, if they had, would promptly eat humble pie and sue for peace.’

  ‘And what think you of his prospects of launching the invasion?’

  ‘If he attempts it at all it should be this summer, otherwise that great Army of the Coast which has been training for so long will become stale. Therefore I think he will risk it provided he can achieve even temporary superiority in the Channel. To do that the fleets of Villeneuve and Gantheaume must unite. Were they defeated separately, or even one of them sufficiently crippled as to be useless for a year or more, I think it certain that the invasion project would have to be shelved for good.’

  ‘After all these years of preparation and trumpet-blowing that would mean a great loss of face for Napoleon.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Talleyrand smiled, ‘He is as slippery as an eel when it comes to wriggling out of awkward situations. Measures would be taken to ensure it being known in every corner of France that he and the Army had been ready and eager to go; but that his first care was the lives of his men, and that his miserable Navy having refused to promise them a safe passage to the English beaches was his reason for cancelling the operation.’

  Roger smiled back, ‘And when does Your Excellency think we are likely to hear if it is to be or not to be?’

  ‘Within a day or two of his carrying out his final inspection of the Army of the Coast. I and several other Ministers are to accompany him, and a Grand Council is to be held at which he will make known his decision.’

  A week later the huge cavalcade set out for Boulogne. There on August 22nd the greatest military spectacle of that, and perhaps, any age, took place. The Emperor, followed by a glittering array of Marshals, Generals and Staff officers reviewed the Grande Armée. With intervals of only a few yards between formations it stretched across the downs for nine miles.

  By then it was known among Napoleon’s intimate circle that Austria had accepted from England a subsidy of five and a half millions and that Russia and Sweden were actively preparing to renew the war against France; but the Emperor remained quite unperturbed. The only measure he took was to send Duroc to the ever-irresolute Frederick William, to offer Hanover to Prussia as the price of an alliance. Austria was not ready for war and many weeks must elapse before she could put an army in the field. The Army of the Rhine, with the aid of France’s ally Bavaria, was capable of staving off any premature attacks. The Russian armies were so far away that they could not become a serious menace for several months. Meanwhile great events might alter the whole European scene.

  The morning after the Grand Council the Emperor sent for Roger, gave him a despatch and said, ‘You will take this to Villeneuve and hand it to him personally. I have chosen you rather than an ordinary courier because this is in a sense a mission. You already know the Admiral and as one of my personal staff he will know you to be in my confidence. You are to inform him of the latest developments in Europe and discuss them, and the orders contained in this despatch, freely with him. My orders are that he is to put to sea, come up Channel, raise the blockade of Brest so as to free Gantheaume and make possible the invasion. Now, this is the
delicate point. Should he again show reluctance to risk his ships you are to hint that I may deprive him of his command and give it to Admiral Rosily. You could say that you chanced to overhear a conversation between myself and Decrès. That should spur this mulish sailor into being of some use to me. Do you understand?’

  ‘Perfectly, Sire,’ Roger bowed. ‘But Your Majesty will appreciate that to execute your order I’ll have to ride near the whole length of France and Spain, so you can hardly expect Villeneuve to appear in the Channel much before mid-October.’

  ‘Umph,’ Napoleon gave a grunt. ‘I know it. But that will be time enough. The weather is often excellent in the autumn. Unless the Admirals prove even more spineless than they have so far led me to suppose, we’ll eat our Christmas dinners in what’s left of London. Go now, and ride hard.’

  Much perplexed as to what course to pursue, Roger set out on his long journey. More than ever now he regretted having quarrelled with Mr. Pitt before the Prime Minister’s resignation for, had he not done so, the Foreign Office would have kept him informed during Addington’s administration of the changes that occurred from time to time in the secret post offices maintained in France for conveying intelligence to England. Such pillar boxes rarely lasted more than a year or two before the static agents who ran them were detected by counter-espionage or decided that it was no longer safe to run them at the same address; so those that Roger had used in the old days of the Revolution and the Directory must have long since been closed down. In the previous year he had had to get his information in person, and must do so again now.

  How and when were the questions. If Jubert was still smuggling cargoes of wine across from Bordeaux, that was the answer to the first. The second was a much knottier problem. Normally, taking into consideration the bad posting service in Spain, horses going lame and other causes of delay, he could not be expected to accomplish his thirteen-hundred-mile journey in much under twenty-six days. But if he rode all-out he could probably lessen that time by ten days. That should be sufficient for him to break his journey at Bordeaux, cross to England, recross to France and still reach Cadiz by about September 18th.

  But should any mischance befall him during the crossing everything would go awry. Villeneuve would not receive his orders, so remain in port and the crux of the matter was to get him out of it, then ensure that he was intercepted and defeated.

  Roger thought again of Talleyrand’s remark that, if only one of France’s two major fleets were crippled sufficiently to render it useless for a year or so, that would put an end to the invasion project. And he had no doubt that Talleyrand was right. It also entered his mind how fortunate it was that the shrewd Foreign Minister was evidently not aware that Napoleon had chosen for this mission le Colonel Breuc for, knowing him now to be still loyal to England, and therefore not to be trusted where operations against that country were concerned, Talleyrand would certainly have produced some plausible reason why one of the Emperor’s other A.D.C.s should be charged with conveying his orders to Villeneuve.

  After considerable cogitation Roger decided that he dared not risk a crossing from Bordeaux before delivering his despatch in Cadiz. Villeneuve would not put to sea immediately. Several days must elapse before he had watered and revictualled to capacity for a long cruise and got his ships into the best possible state to engage, as he would foresee he might have to, in a great naval battle. And Cadiz was only some sixty miles from Gibraltar.

  Since Spain was at war with England the Rock was again besieged, so it might not be easy to reach, but Roger felt fairly confident of his ability to do so one way or another within a few days of leaving Cadiz; and from Gibraltar, while Villeneuve was still in port fitting out his fleet for the great endeavour, a fast frigate could be despatched to England, to ensure that a fleet of sufficient strength would be waiting to give battle to him by the time he entered the Channel.

  Alternatively, Roger decided, should it prove too difficult and dangerous to get through the Spanish lines to Gilbraltar, he could ride back at full speed to Bordeaux, cross with Jubert or some other smuggler to Devon and by the new semaphore telegraph send his information to London, still with enough margin of time for Villeneuve to be intercepted.

  Having settled this question in his mind, Roger decided that there was nothing to be gained by exhausting himself in riding all-out to Cadiz. The longer Villeneuve’s sailing was delayed the worse the weather would become; which meant that even if he succeeded in evading a battle with a British fleet and enabled Gantheaume’s to emerge from Brest, the worse would be the prospects of the invasion being successful.

  In consequence, Roger rode south through Rouen, Le Mans, Tours, Poitiers, Angoulême, Bordeaux, Bayonne, Vitoria, Burgos, Madrid, Cordoba and Seville by easy stages, averaging no more than fifty miles or so a day, and arriving at the little town of Jerez de la Frontera on September 19th.

  Jerez was fewer than twenty miles from the coast but over thirty from Cadiz, because the road to the port ran first in a semi-circle round a wide bay then along a ten-mile spit of low-lying ground to the city, which lay at its northern extremity. It was this peninsula, running parallel to the coast and almost enclosing a great area of protected water, that made Cadiz the finest natural harbour in Europe.

  Early on the morning of the 20th Roger rode out of Jerez; but when he came to the crossroads near the coast, instead of taking the road that curved round towards Cadiz, he continued on for another fifty miles until, in the afternoon, he reached Algeciras. Further thought had decided him that, if he could do so without difficulty, it would be better for him to inform the Governor of Gibraltar of his mission before delivering the despatch to Villeneuve, as that should result in the Admiralty receiving news of French intentions several days earlier than if he had followed his original plan.

  To the east, only a few miles across the bay from Algeciras, the great Rock of Gibraltar towered up clear in the evening light. The shipping lying under the guns of its forts and the houses on the terraced roads could be seen quite distinctly; but that evening Roger learned that to get there was a thing that could not be done without considerable risk and, anyway, not overnight.

  The inn at which he had put up was much frequented by Spanish officers. On seeing his French uniform they saluted him with grave courtesy. He spoke a little Spanish and several of them spoke French so he had no difficulty in conversing with them and spent the evening drinking in their company. As an allied officer they freely discussed the progress of the siege with him and, although it had made no headway, it soon emerged that the fortress was so closely invested that it would be a most hazardous proceeding to attempt to get through the Spanish lines.

  Next day he rode out round the perimeter encircling the approaches to the Rock, to La Linea and back, and his ride convinced him that he could not get through to it by land. He would have to use some of his gold to bribe a fisherman in some village along the coast to put him ashore on the Rock at night. But that meant a delay of two or three days, and as he had ridden down through France and Spain without hurrying he felt that he could no longer put off delivering his despatch. He reckoned it would be at least a week before Villeneuve was ready to put to sea; so he would have ample time to ensure a frigate’s being despatched from Gibraltar before the French fleet sailed.

  On the morning of the 23rd he left Algeciras and by afternoon was riding along the great natural breakwater that enclosed the harbour of Cadiz. Proceeding to the port on the inland curve of the promontory he stabled his horse at an inn on the waterfront called the ‘Inca Queen’. He then hired a boat with a steersman and four oarsmen and had himself rowed towards the flagship. She lay about two miles south of the harbour and as the boat carried him towards her he had ample opportunity to take stock of the Allied fleet lying at anchor in the soft evening light.

  His boat was about to pass within about sixty yards of a French frigate and his eye was caught by the bright dress of a young woman leaning out from the high stern gallery. Her hair was
dressed high in the Spanish manner, rising to a big tortoiseshell comb from which a lace mantilla fell partially covering her plump breasts. He was at once reminded of Georgina, for the woman’s features, colouring and form were very similar to hers. But he had no doubt at all that she was some Spanish trollop that the Captain of the frigate had taken aboard to amuse himself with while the fleet was in harbour.

  When his boat drew nearer, the woman suddenly began to wave and shout something at them. Taking it as an exhibition of joie de vivre, Roger waved back, then her cries gradually faded as his boatmen pulled on towards the flagship.

  As he mounted the gangway, the officer of the watch observed his rank and had him ceremoniously piped aboard where he was received with every courtesy. But it transpired that Admiral Villeneuve was not on board. He had left that morning for Seville—in which city, associated with the ancient ‘Board of the Indies’, the Spanish Admiralty had its headquarters—to negotiate for further supplies for his fleet, and he was not expected back in Cadiz for several days.

  Roger accepted a glass of Malaga wine from the senior officer on duty, then said that he must proceed to Seville to deliver personally a despatch to the Admiral. As his boat took him back towards the harbour it again passed fairly close to the frigate in which he had seen the woman who resembled Georgina. She was still leaning over the stern gallery, but twilight had now fallen so her features were less distinct. When they came nearer she gave a shout and waved a sheet of white paper to attract their attention. Roger was in no mood for a waterborne flirtation but he returned her hail. As he did so she quickly rolled the piece of paper into a spill, pushed it into an empty bottle, rammed home the cork and threw the bottle as far as she could towards the passing boat.