by Jean Plaidy
The children laughed merrily. This was indeed a good way to enjoy a picnic. They picked the meat off the bones and threw them out of the window. The Dauphin pretended to be very much afraid of Madame Rochet and, throwing himself wholeheartedly into the game, insisted on Madame Royale’s playing it with him. But Madame Royale, who was thirteen years old, could not be so easily duped, and the tension did not escape her.
At Claye, they picked up the two ladies-in-waiting who had already been there some hours and were delighted to see the berline, for the delay had made them very anxious. The horses were changed and the journey continued.
The King studied the maps, following the route and pointing it out to Madame Royale and the Dauphin.
‘Here, you see, we have left Paris behind us … and been through Bondy and Claye. Now we come to La Ferte. Then we shall go on to Châlons-sur-Marne …’
Oh that they were there! thought the Queen, for after Châlons the worst danger would be over since the cavalry, promised by the Duc de Choiseul and Bouillé, would be waiting for them beyond that town. Then their journey to Montmédy would begin, and at Montmédy Axel would be waiting.
As the journey continued the heat in the berline became oppressive.
The Dauphin began to whimper. ‘Oh, Maman … I’m too hot. I want to get out now.
‘You must be patient,’ soothed the Queen. ‘Do not forget that I am your stern governess, Madame Rochet.’
‘No, no,’ said the Dauphin. ‘You are my maman, and I am too hot.’
As the coach began to labour up a hill, Madame de Tourzel suggested that she and the children should walk. It would be good for them to have a little exercise and they would not be much slower than the coach which they could rejoin at the top of the hill.
This seemed an excellent suggestion and the berline was halted while Madame de Tourzel alighted with the children. The berline reached the top of the hill first, for the Dauphin had wanted to linger in the fields, and half an hour or so was lost at that point; but no one felt this was of any great importance because the little boy was so much less fretful, and after another meal he leaned against his mother and went to sleep.
It was early afternoon when they came to Petit Chaintry – a small village close to the main one of Chaintry – for Fersen had deemed it wise that they should change horses at the smaller hamlet. The postmaster’s son-in-law was spending the day with his wife’s family in Petit Chaintry; he was an innkeeper who travelled now and then to Paris, and there he had seen the King.
While the horses were being changed, this man, Gabriel Vallet, strolled out to look at the extraordinary vehicle which was such as he had never seen before. It was quite magnificent.
The travellers must be very rich indeed, he guessed. He touched the berline and nodded sagely. Oh, yes, a very fine piece of work, perfectly sprung; then he caught a glimpse of the damask lining of the coach.
Émigrés, he thought. Now I wonder who? Important people doubtless. It must be hot inside that coach. Why do they not get out and enjoy a little fresh air while they can?
He strolled past the window of the berline, and caught his breath. Could he be mistaken? The wig was rough, and the hat that of a lackey, but the face beneath it – that plump long-nosed face? Surely he was not mistaken. Two children and a woman dressed as a governess. A governess! Not even during the revolution, when all classes had discovered that they were equal, could a governess learn that air of dignity.
Vallet drew his father-in-law to one side.
‘You have distinguished callers, Papa,’ he said.
‘So?’ said the old man. ‘And who are these?’
‘Only the King, the Queen, the Dauphin, Madame Royale and some others.’
The old man was overcome with surprise and pleasure at serving the King; he went out to the berline and, bowing low, said: ‘Your Majesty, this a great honour and one I shall remember to my dying day. We are humble folk, but all that we have is at Your Majesty’s service.’
Louis, touched as ever by the devotion of one of his dear children, murmured to the Queen, who was looking horrified: ‘Have no fear. We are far from Paris, and these dear people are our friends.’
Vallet appeared and bowed, as his father-in-law had done. Then his wife came out with her mother and her sisters. They were flustered with excitement.
‘We have a goose just ready to serve, Your Majesty. If you would honour us by eating it … we should consider ourselves your most fortunate subjects.’
Louis decided that to refuse the hospitality would be churlish. So they left the berline and took refreshment in the house of these people; and the Queen found gifts from the treasures she had brought with her to bestow upon them. The Dauphin recovered his spirits, and Madame Royale, who now understood that they were in flight from the gloomy Tuileries, was equally joyful.
Vallet asked a special boon. If he could act as postilion on the berline as far as Châlons he would be honoured. He begged the King to accept his service.
The King did not see how he could refuse this request, since he had accepted the homage and hospitality of Vallet’s family; and they set out from Petit Chaintry in good spirits. They had lost some time by stopping there, and they had never made up the initial loss. Vallet, determined to serve the King with all his heart, tried to get too much out of the horses, with the result that two of them fell and there was some damage done to the traces.
This had to be repaired, which naturally involved more delay; but at length they came into Châlons.
Here the secret of their identity must be kept, for Châlons was no little village. They were all in good spirits. They were well on their way, and once through Châlons they would soon make contact with the cavalry. Moreover the people of this wine-growing country were not so deeply concerned with politics as the Parisians. They must have seen many émigrés escaping to the border. Why should they give special attention to one little party?
There was the fact though that, if they had seen many departing émigrés, they had never yet seen any travelling in such style, and the berline with its six horses and its magnificent outward appearance would attract notice wherever it went.
Vallet, the proud postilion, determined though he was to keep the secret, betrayed the fact that he nevertheless had a secret; the townsfolk, who liked to stand about near the posting stations to talk to travellers, were greatly impressed by the berline. They inspected it, glancing in at the occupants. Two children. That was suspicious in itself. Who were the mysterious strangers? People of high rank. Why, it might be … Why should it not be … ?
And there was Vallet, striding about, looking as though he could tell a good tale of he would, if he were not bound in honour to keep a secret.
One knowledgeable vagabond whispered to the postmaster as he changed the horses: ‘Who do you think this is, eh?’
‘They have not let me into their secrets,’ murmured the postmaster.
‘They have a royal look, it seems to me …’
‘What do you suggest?’
‘Louis and Antoinette.’
‘Pish!’ said the postmaster, who disliked responsibility. ‘My job is to change horses, not to invent trouble.’
The horses were changed; the berline was ready to leave. A crowd gathered to watch it go, and in that crowd it was already being whispered: It is the King and his family.’
The berline drove out of Châlons.
The King smiled and looked reassuringly at his family.
‘That was the testing place,’ he said. ‘We all decided, you remember, that once through Châlons we should be safe.’
He closed his eyes. He was ready for a little nap.
The Queen listened to the clop clop of the horses’ hoofs. Soon Axel … soon, she was thinking.
Soon they would reach Pont de Somme-Vesle, and there they would find waiting for them the Duc de Choiseul and his cavalry; he would accompany the berline until they joined up with Bouillé’s troops. ‘Then,’ said the King, ‘all w
ill be well, for if any try to stop us, they will have my loyal soldiers to face.’
The Dauphin was pointing to the green fields.
‘Papa, Papa, let us get out and pick some flowers.’
‘Should we not go on?’ said the Queen. ‘We are already late.’
‘We have passed the danger,’ Louis assured her. ‘A few minutes at the roadside will do us no harm and will placate Monsieur le Dauphin.’
So the berline pulled up at the roadside, and the Dauphin and Madame Royal ran about shrieking with joy.
Antoinette sat back fanning herself.
‘It was pleasant,’ she said, ‘to be with loyal people again.’
‘That man Vallet was touching,’ murmured the King, ‘quite touching … in his desire to help us.’
In the distance they heard the sound of galloping hoofs, and they came nearer and nearer. It was a solitary horseman who slackened his pace a little as he approached the berline.
Antoinette and the King looked out of the window and they saw his face – excited and strained. He shouted: ‘Have a care. Your schemes are known. You will be stopped.’
Then he was gone.
The King and Queen looked at each other in horror.
Then Antoinette called sharply to Madame de Tourzel: ‘Bring the children back to the carriage. We must leave here at once.’
They came into Pont de Somme-Vesle. The place seemed deserted. The outrider, who had ridden on ahead of them to make sure that fresh horses would be ready, met them with a worried expression.
The cavalry were not there.
While the horses were being changed there was great dismay in the berline, and eventually a single cavalryman appeared in the distance.
The King put his head out of the window and shouted to him: ‘Where is the Duc de Choiseul?’
‘He left, Sire, with his hussars.’
‘Why so?’
‘Sire, it was due to the fact that you did not arrive at the appointed time. It is three hours since you should have been here and, owing to the confused message of Monsieur Léonard, Monsieur le Duc de Choiseul thought that you had not been able to leave when you planned to do so.’
‘He had orders to await our coming,’ cried the King.
‘Yes, Sire, but he greatly feared trouble. He had been asked questions. Many people passed along the road and wanted to know what the presence of troops in the district meant. Monsieur de Choiseul’s reply was that he was guarding bullion which was to pass along the road to Paris. But there was a rumour, Sire, that you and the Queen were coming this way with the royal children, and the mayor was afraid that the peasants would rise against the soldiers and prevent your passing. Then there was a little trouble between some of the peasants and the soldiers. Monsieur de Choiseul thought he could do great harm by staying, and so moved off towards Clermont. He has sent messages by Léonard to the Marquis de Bouillé, explaining what he has done.’
The Queen said: ‘It will be necessary for us to go on without the escort, and that we should do with all speed. Choiseul and his hussars have been unable to meet us, but there will be the dragoons waiting for us at Sainte-Ménehould.’
She sat back, determined not to show the others how alarmed she was becoming.
In the town of Sainte-Ménehould the rumours were wild. Something was afoot. All day the town had been filled with dragoons, who stood about as though waiting for some important event. They had swaggered into the inns; they had drunk very freely and they had gambled with the local inhabitants. Something was about to happen in Sainte-Ménehould, and it was to be kept a secret from the inhabitants. This was not right. But what could they do about it? They could guess! The soldiers, when plied with liquor, found it difficult to keep silent. Some important persons were coming this way and they were to escort them on their journey. Oh, depend upon it, it was a very important party.
‘Mayhap it is the Prince de Condé or someone of that rank?’ said the innkeeper.
‘Mayhap. Mayhap.’
The soldiers strutted about the streets. Their commander, the Comte de Damas, was alarmed. He saw that many of them were ready to be very friendly with certain young men who ostentatiously displayed the blue, white and red cockade.
Léonard arrived in the town with a confused message. The little hairdresser was distressed. His business was to create new styles for ladies’ hair, not to ride about the countryside delivering verbal messages which he did not understand.
What was the exact message he had received from Monsieur de Choiseul? He could not quite remember. But he knew that Monsieur de Choiseul had thought it better to move from Pont de Somme-Vesle because the inhabitants of that place were suspicious of him.
Damas considered. He decided to send most of his troop to a spot five miles distant, where they could camp for the night. He himself would remain at Sainte-Ménehould, greet the King on his arrival, and tell him that he had had to divide his soldiers because of the growing rumours.
So when the berline arrived at Sainte-Ménehould it was to find again no escort waiting for them.
But Damas was there and it was good to see him. He was able to explain the position. His dragoons were not far off, and after passing Les Islettes the berline would take the quiet road to Varennes, and not far distant from that town they would meet Bouillé and his army.
It had been arranged that fresh horses would be waiting for them at the little villages where there would not be posting houses, and this would be ideal, for there would be no inquisitive people to wonder who they were.
There had been some delay and some misunderstanding, but, Damas assured the King and Queen, they were almost on the road to safety.
Among those who watched the handsome berline while the horses were being changed and who saw the respectful way in which the officer of the dragoons addressed the occupants of the coach, was the postmaster’s son, Jean Baptiste Drouet.
He was a young man of strong revolutionary feelings, and he knew that the occupants of that carriage were émigrés; more than that they were persons of high standing, for who but the very rich would escape in such comfort?
He watched the berline take off and, as he did so, Guillaume, one of his friends, came up to him and said: ‘Do you know who that was, Jean Baptiste?’
‘It’s some of those cursed aristocrats,’ said Jean Baptiste. ‘Why should we let them pass? It is our duty to detain them.’
‘Someone rode in from Châlons. He says it is the King and Queen.’
Drouet brought his hand down sharply on his thigh. ‘The King and Queen! And we let them pass!’
He leaped onto the wall of his father’s house and shouted: ‘Citizens! Do you know what has just happened? The King and Queen have passed this way. They are escaping to the frontier.’
A crowd gathered. They smiled. ‘Oh, ’tis Jean Baptiste again. He’s a firebrand, he is. He ought to go to Paris and tell them how to run the revolution.’
‘Citizens!’ cried Jeane Baptiste, ‘what will you do? Will you wait here and bring the venom of France upon your shoulders?’
‘What can we do?’ asked one old wine-grower. ‘Run after the fine carriage?’
‘My God,’ cried Jean Baptiste, ‘somebody must. Come, Guillaume. They are on their way to Varennes. I heard it said. We’ll get there ahead of them and we’ll raise the town against them. They must not pass beyond Varennes. Now we know why there are soldiers hereabouts. They’ll be advancing on us … destroying the vines … destroying our homes. Come, Citizens!’
The people of Sainte-Ménehould shrugged their shoulders. Guillaume was reluctant. ‘Don’t make a fool of yourself,’ said the wife of Jean Baptiste.
But Jean Baptiste was a son of the Revolution. He demanded that Guillaume go with him; and how could Guillaume refuse a command from such a good son of the Revolution?
They saddled their horses.
‘They’ve had a good start of us,’ said Jean Baptiste, ‘but we know the short cuts to Varennes.’
; So the berline came into Varennes. Worn out with the day’s adventures the King was dozing; the Queen had her eyes closed but she was not sleeping; she was too anxious to be able to sleep. Not until I reach Montmédy shall I be able to feel at rest, she told herself. Then Axel will be there. If Axel had stayed with us, surely all these mishaps would not have overtaken us.
It was ten o’clock; darkness had fallen and clouds obscured the moon.
The berline was now passing under a church which had been built above the street forming an archway; thus the way was very narrow; and as it slowed up to pass beneath this arch there was a cry of ‘Halt!’ and the berline came to an abrupt stop.
A man with a gun was at each window.
‘Your passports?’ said Jean Baptiste Drouet.
Madame de Tourzel produced the forged passport. ‘I am travelling to Russia with my children and my servants,’ she explained.
Jean Baptiste examined the passports; he was trembling with excitement. This was the greatest moment in the life of a country revolutionary. If the flight of the King and Queen were arrested, he, Jean Baptiste Drouet, would have the honour of bringing about this great event.
Had he not ridden with Guillaume into Varennes! And he had had to force Guillaume to accompany him, so Guillaume should not take more than his share of the triumph! Had he not forced the citizens of Varennes to sound the tocsins and waken the townsfolk! Had he not forced the revolutionary young men of Varennes to rise and prepare to help him in this matter! He was a good member of the Jacobin Club; and this was his hour.
‘I fear,’ he said, looking at that woman who was called Madame Rochet but whom he knew to be another, ‘that you cannot pass.’
‘My passport is in order,’ protested Madame de Tourzel.
‘I must take it,’ said Jean Baptiste; ‘it must be examined by the solicitor of this town. And you must accompany me to his house. Drive on,’ he commanded the driver. ‘You will be led to the house of Monsieur Sausse.’
The Queen looked out of the window and caught her breath with horror; she saw that the berline was surrounded by young men, and that many of them were wearing the badge of the revolution.