‘And what, pray, were you doing serving in his army? I thought you to be a permanent member of the Emperor’s staff. Had you fallen into disgrace with him?’
‘No. He sent me with verbal orders for the Marshal Duke, that he did not care to trust to an ordinary courier in a written despatch,’ Roger stated, knowing that Bernadotte had no means of checking up the lie. ‘But Your Royal Highness can have no idea how terrible are conditions in Spain. The Spanish Generals are hopelessly incompetent, but their troops are fanatically brave. By their constant attacks they keep our forces penned into a number of comparatively small areas. Outside them the country swarms with irregulars and bandits. Any Frenchman who falls into their hands would be better off had he a passport straight to hell. The tortures they employ are positively fiendish. It was my proper duty to report back as soon as possible to the Emperor. But the Marshal Duke could not spare an escort of sufficient strength to ensure me a safe passage through hostile territory; so bade me remain with him as one of his staff, which I did until I was taken prisoner.’
‘And what of England?’
‘Of that I had little opportunity to find out; but, from the gossip of camp guards, I gathered that the pig-headed British are determined to fight on, whatever the cost, until they finally best His Imperial Majesty, although they are suffering much hardship from bad harvests and the effect of the Continental System.’
Bernadotte nodded. ‘I judge you right in that. And now, I take it, you wish me to send you back to France?’
‘May it please Your Royal Highness, I would liefer that you did not,’ Roger replied with a shake of the head. ‘Like yourself, having followed the Eagles through so many campaigns, I am monstrous lucky still to have my life and limbs. But I am now sickened by the state of things. With England continuing to raise new armies for milord Wellington, Spain a bloody cockpit and north Germany seething with unrest, I see no prospect of peace for years to come, And for what are such miseries being inflicted on the people of many nations? Solely for the Emperor’s personal glory. I have made up my mind to serve him no longer. And, chance having brought me to Sweden, I am wondering if Your Royal Highness could find a use for me?’
Bernadotte’s fine eyes lit up. ‘I could, indeed. But are you prepared to forgo your French citizenship and accept Swedish nationality, as I have done?’
‘Perhaps.’ Roger appeared to hesitate. ‘But I pray you give me time to consider the matter.’
‘That I will do. In the meantime, I could not give you a commission in the Swedish Army. But I can attach you to my person and make good use of your knowledge and experience. As you are probably aware, owing to the folly, nay madness, of King Gustavus IV, the Swedish Army suffered most grievously when it fought against Russia in an attempt to retain Finland. I found it in a most shocking state; its morale at the lowest ebb, the men ill-disciplined, their uniforms in rags and seriously lacking equipment lost in battle. Since I assumed command I have spared no effort to weld it again into a force capable of defending this country. One by one I am summoning regiments to Stockholm and here give them a week’s training myself. You could assist me in that.’
‘I would willingly do so, Your Royal Highness; but, alas, doubt my capabilities for such work. Having never served with a regiment in peace or war, my knowledge of the barrack square and tactics in the field is very limited.’
‘No matter,’ Bernadotte replied quickly. ‘I’ve thought of a way in which you can serve me still better. You have accompanied the Emperor on many of his campaigns, have had every opportunity of observing his methods of waging war, and must be highly competent in the matter of staff duties. I will make you an instructor. In a series of lectures to my senior officers you shall describe the battles you have participated in, and the means by which the Emperor has achieved his victories.’
Roger readily agreed, then enquired after Her Royal Highness the Princess Desirée.
Bernadotte’s face clouded. ‘Alas, my wife found life here most uncongenial. She is the sweetest person in the world, but from you I’ll make no secret of it. She was not brought up to be a great lady at a Court, and her naturalness was ill-regarded at times by Queen Charlotte and many of the narrow-minded nobility here; so she made few friends. Moreover, as a woman of warm southern blood, she found the freezing winter here near-insupportable, so I allowed her to go back to Paris. In due course she will rejoin me and meanwhile I am consoled for her absence by the presence here of my son, now Duke of Södermanland.’
‘I recall him as a handsome boy with charming manners,’ Roger volunteered.
‘Yes, I am very proud of him. By instinct he always seems to do or say the right thing. He is most intelligent and progressing admirably with his studies. He loves it here, and is very popular with his new countrymen. But now I have much to do, so you must excuse me. Accommodation will, of course, be provided for you in the Castle; you will dine with us tonight and I will present you to Their Majesties.’
Roger warmly thanked his new master, who then rang for his secretary and gave him his instructions. The secretary handed his charge over to an adjutant, who took Roger to a Mess, introduced him to several other officers there and furnished him with a drink. An hour later his single valise had been fetched from the inn and he was settling into his new quarters, delighted with this propitious opening to his mission.
In the evening he was duly presented to the Royal Family. Old King Charles looked very feeble, his hands shook and he mumbled so that it was difficult to understand what he was saying. Queen Charlotte appeared to be a vigorous, determined woman. She received Roger coldly, no doubt when told that he was to join them, expecting one of Napoleon’s ill-bred, jumped-up Revolutionaries; but later, when she found him to have charming manners and be accustomed to Court etiquette, she thawed out considerably. The aged Dowager Queen, Sophia Magdalena, spoke little and gave the impression that she rarely roused herself from memories of the unhappy life she had led. There was also an ugly, elderly sister of the King, Princess Sophia Albertina. She looked half-mad, which recalled to Roger the fate of other members of the family. Queen Sophia Magdaiena’s husband and her son had practically ruined their kingdom, the latter had been placed under restraint as a lunatic, and the old woman’s grandson was in exile in Switzerland, having been passed over by the magnates for the succession because they believed him to have inherited the family strain of madness.
In the circumstances, Roger was not surprised that they should all resent Bernadotte—a man they considered to have been a nobody—being forced upon the King as his adopted son. Or that poor little Desirée—the silk merchant’s daughter—should have been so ill-received by them.
Apart from these Royalties, only ladies and gentlemen-in-waiting were present and, although Roger endeavoured to enliven the conversation by giving fictitious accounts of his doings in Spain and of how, as a prisoner of war in England, he had succeeded in escaping, dinner proved a gloomy meal.
He soon settled down to his new role. Even the most haughty and hidebound among the Swedish aristocracy had by this time succumbed to the handsome Gascon who, in all but name, was their new ruler. The manner in which he had sacrificed his great personal fortune to pay Sweden’s debts had greatly impressed them. The members of the Diet praised him for the sound reforms he proposed to them and for working from fifteen to eighteen hours a day on the nation’s problems, and both officers and men admired him as a hero and General.
In consequence, far from resenting a foreigner being sent to instruct them, the senior officers of the Army welcomed their Prince Royal’s friend, Colonel Count Breuc, and listened eagerly to his descriptions of the campaigns which had carried Napoleon on waves of victory from one end of Europe to the other.
Stockholm, so aptly termed the ‘Venice of the North’, is one of the loveliest cities in the world, and in his off-duty hours Roger greatly enjoyed parties that were made up to go on excursions to the islands, or to skate and toboggan. A few elderly people remarked that h
is face was vaguely familiar, and said they thought they had met him before, but it was over twenty years since he had been in Stockholm, so he had no difficulty in persuading them that they were mistaken.
But he found the atmosphere of the huge Castle very depressing. At night it was so cold that he had to pile all his furs on top of his eiderdown to keep warm. Its long, uncarpeted corridors were tunnels of unceasing draughts, the narrow windows in the thick, stone walls barely lit them even at midday, and the furniture was mediaeval. In addition the winter days were so short that one seemed almost to be living in perpetual night. He did not wonder that little Desirée Clary had hated it.
He saw Bernadotte every day and, at times, was even consulted by him on various problems and asked his opinion of the fitness of officers he was instructing to hold their commands. Every week or so he was invited to dine with the Royal Family, and became quite a favourite of the wilful Queen.
But, as time went on, he became more and more dubious of his chances of succeeding in his mission. The late war with Russia was still very much in everyone’s mind. Many of his new acquaintances had lost husbands, sons or brothers in it, and the loss of Finland had struck at the very heart of the Swedish nation. Nearly everyone was hoping that a time would come when Russia was heavily engaged elsewhere, so that there would be a chance of winning back the Grand Duchy.
Unlikely as it now seemed that he would be able to persuade Bernadotte to enter into an alliance with the hated Russians, Roger felt that he could not possibly abandon the task he had been given without at least attempting to carry it out. And time was creeping on. Toward the end of February he decided that he must risk disclosing his true identity; so, on the next occasion when he was invited to an intimate family dinner, he pinned on his chest the Star of the Swedish Order of Grossed Swords, which he had had made in London.
Immediately he entered the salon, Bernadotte noticed it. Frowning, he marched up to Roger and demanded angrily, ‘Colonel, what right have you to wear that Order?’
Roger bowed and replied, ‘I wear it because I am entitled to do so, Your Royal Highness. And if you will do me the honour to grant me a private audience later this evening, I shall be happy to inform you of the reason why I was decorated with it.’
18
Caught in the Toils Once More
Conversation at the royal dinner table was always stilted. The palsied old King sat between the two Queens. Sometimes his food had to be cut up for him, he slobbered as he ate and occasionally mumbled something. The Queen Dowager never made a remark to anyone and, for most of the time, kept her sunken, black-rimmed eyes on her plate. Next to her, the half-witted Princess Sophia Albertina now and then gabbled out a few sentences or cackled with laughter. On the other side of Queen Charlotte, Bernadotte ate quickly, evidently anxious to get back to his work and thinking of it. The Queen alone kept the conversation going, as it was not etiquette for anyone to speak to the Royals unless spoken to.
The five Royals sat at a raised table on a low dais. Each of them had a lord-or lady-in-waiting and these, with such guests as had been invited, sat at two tables at right angles to the royal board. They talked together in low voices, but there were rarely more than three or four guests and those mainly regular ones, so the subjects discussed tended to lack variety.
Roger had always found these dinners boring and that night he wished more than ever that he had been in livelier company which would have distracted his thoughts with jokes and laughter. As he ploughed through his salmon, reindeer steak and portion of goose, he wondered if he had really been wise to make use of the Order of Crossed Swords when asking for this all-important private interview with Bernadotte.
The idea had occurred to him when he had first thought over his mission; because, as was not surprising, after eighteen years of war the great majority of Frenchmen had a rooted dislike of the English and Roger had felt that his Swedish decoration would help to offset any prejudice against his nationality that Bernadotte might have. But now he was not so certain. By wearing a decoration to which it could be assumed he was not entitled, he had obviously put the Prince Royal in a bad temper. That would make for a far from propitious opening to a difficult interview, which might have most unpleasant consequences.
His danger, as he had realised from the beginning, lay in the fact that, although Bernadotte had recently become a Swede and was doing everything possible to make his new compatriots regard him as one, he must at heart still be a Frenchman. The fact that, as a staunch Republican he had always distrusted Napoleon and was now refusing to aid in furthering his schemes, made no difference. The Emperor was only a person who symbolised a certain form of government; he was not France. And Roger must shortly confess that he had been constantly betraying the interests of France for many years. That might quite possibly lead to his being clapped in a dungeon for an indefinite period, so he was now contemplating the coming interview with some trepidation.
At last the dinner was over. On the arm of the Queen, the old King tottered into the adjacent salon, followed in strict order of precedence by all the others. With the exception of Bernadotte and Roger, the company seated itself round a fire which, although large, warmed only a segment of the large, lofty room. Bernadotte then bowed to the King and Queen and said:
‘Your Majesties, I beg you to excuse me and Colonel Count Breuc from further attendance on you. There is a matter upon which I am anxious to speak to him without delay.’
The bleary-eyed King nodded. The Queen replied graciously, ‘As you wish, dear son. The loss of your company is the price we have to pay for the wonderful work you are doing for us.’ Then she held up her head and turned it slightly, to receive his kiss on her painted cheek.
Roger gave thanks for his dinner, wished the company good night and bowed himself out backward after Bernadotte. In the ante-room they took from a rack the voluminous fur cloaks that they always put on to protect themselves from the icy chill when making their way along the passages. With a quick, firm step Bernadotte led the way to his Cabinet and sat down behind his littered desk. He did not ask Roger to be seated, but staring at him fixedly, said in a harsh voice:
‘Now, explain if you can. I find it impossible to believe that you are entitled to wear that Order, and to do so is one of the grossest pieces of impertinence I have ever encountered.’
With an air of self-confidence that he was far from feeling, Roger laughed. ‘Were it not to wager on a certainty, I’d deprive Your Royal Highness of a tidy sum, if you were willing to back your conviction. King Gustavus III honoured me with this decoration for services I rendered His Majesty during the war he fought against Catherine of Russia.’
‘But that was twenty years ago! You can have been but a boy.’
‘True. It was in ’88 and I was scarce out of my teens. I pray you, though, consult the records of the Order. There Your Royal Highness will find my name, not as de Breuc, but as Mr. Roger Brook.’
Bernadotte frowned. ‘What means this mystery?’
‘It is generally believed in France that I was born in Strasbourg of an English lady married to a Frenchman, and sent after her death to her sister, Lady Marie Brook, to be educated in England. The truth is that Lady Marie was my mother and my father was Admiral Sir Christopher Brook.’
‘You astound me. In fact then, you are an Englishman, although long a confidant of the Emperor. To which country did you play the traitor?’
‘To neither in the fullest sense. I served England whenever her interests were involved, but I have never fought against British troops. I have, as you well know, fought against France’s other enemies, and rendered her many valuable services, including having once saved the Emperor’s life—though I now regret it.’
‘The tale you told me of having been a prisoner in the Isle of Wight was, then, untrue. What was your real purpose in coming to Sweden?’
Smiling, Roger produced the lettre de marque and placed it on the desk. ‘I come as an Envoy Extraordinary, to confer with You
r Royal Highness, and with authority to enter into negotiations with you on behalf of my country.’
Having read the document, Bernadotte said, ‘This is not signed by your Prime Minister.’
‘No. The signature is that of the Marquess Wellesley. As Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs and brother to our foremost General, milord Wellington, he has a greater say in our relations with other countries than Mr. Perceval, who is an amiable but not particularly forceful man.’
‘Even so, as Sweden is at war with England, your mission cannot be regarded as official. I should be within my rights if I made you a prisoner.’
‘I am aware of that. But Your Royal Highness will not do so, because it is not in Sweden’s interest. The Emperor has more than once threatened to invade Sweden. I am empowered to offer you an alliance with England. Do you accept it a British fleet could enter the Baltic and thwart Napoleon’s intentions.’
For a moment Bernadotte considered, then said a trifle grudgingly, ‘You may be seated. Tell me now, what price does England require Sweden to pay for such protection?’
Roger bowed and sat down. ‘That she should put an end to her animosity toward Russia and form an alliance with her for the purpose of assisting in Napoleon’s defeat. In return, England would also furnish arms for the Swedish Army, which is still so ill-equipped, and pay a large subsidy which would enable Your Royal Highness to raise further regiments.’
‘The Czar might not agree. As is the case with Sweden, he is still formally allied to France.’
‘Yes, formally. But the alliance now hangs only by a thread that will soon be snapped. As Your Royal Highness must be aware, for many months past the Emperor has been mustering his legions for the invasion of Russia.’
‘Certainly I know it. My intelligence service would be poor indeed did I not.’
‘Then it is evident to Your Royal Highness that, when the crisis comes, the Czar will need all the help he can get.’
The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware Page 26