Napoleon's Police

by Michele McGrath

  I dropped back into my seat, feeling shocked, and rubbed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Papa. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  He took a sip from his drink, as if to give himself strength, and then he said, “I’m dying, Alain. The doctors say I won’t see Christmas. I need you to take over the business for me.”

  “What about Benôit and Georges?”

  “Benôit’s too old. Michel, the apprentice, is too young. Georges is a good workman, but he has no understanding of how to deal with customers, especially those who require persuasion. We wouldn’t last a year with him in charge.”

  “If Jacques had lived...” I started to say.

  “I would still have sent for you,” he interrupted me. That was too much.

  “Never, Papa. You always said he would take over the business, not me.”

  “I was stupid; a younger man’s folly. Jacques cheated me for several years and defied me to expose him when I found out. He told me he’d say it was on my orders he topped up the price so much the customers complained. He put the excess into his own pocket. What an idiot! If he’d been moderate, I should never have caught him.”

  “How did you catch him, Papa?”

  “I became suspicious when he bought things he should not have been able to afford on what I paid him. So Benôit and I spoke to his clients. After that I confronted him. I couldn’t dismiss him. It would have set all the tongues clacking in the town, so I tolerated him and made sure his work was checked and he never collected any more debts. He wasn’t so keen a workman after that. What a blessing he was thrown from his horse. At least it spared your aunt the knowledge that her son was a rogue.”

  “I’m sorry, Papa.” I remembered how close the pair had been or I’d thought they’d been. It must have been a bitter shock to the old man to discover his favourite had feet of clay. “I never knew.”

  “It’s not the sort of thing I’d noise abroad, is it? Bad for business. Even Sophie doesn’t know the full story. She’s sharp enough to realise he was under a cloud, but not the reason why. She’s a good girl, but her tongue wags as much as any woman. That’s for your ear only. Anyway, everything happened a long time ago and is best forgotten. He’s gone and you’re here. When can you start?”

  The words startled me. I hadn’t really believed Sophie when she told me what he wanted me for. Trust the old man to cut to the heart of things with one curt question.

  “As soon as I have settled my wife and family,” I said the words with my tongue feeling like lead. Here I was promising to do something I’d rejected long ago. Yet I knew I could do no different. How can you refuse a dying man? I couldn’t, at least. “I must find somewhere for them to live. They can’t stay with Sophie indefinitely.”

  “You can take them to Bellevue if you want to. I only rented the place, in case you ever returned. The tenant knows he has to leave when you come back; I had Emile write it into the lease.” Papa gave a laugh which turned into a strangled cough. When the spasm passed, I saw that there was blood on the cloth he held to his lips.

  “I’ll fetch a doctor,” I said, horrified, starting to rise.

  “Nothing a sawbones can do for me now. I’ve seen enough of them and all they do is give me vile-tasting medicine and a large bill for their services. Let me be. If you want to do something for me, you can pour me some more of this brandy.”

  “Brandy at this time of the morning, Papa?”

  “It’s keeping me alive and what do my habits have to do with you, pray?” That sounded better. I shrugged and poured him the drink. It would hardly hurt him now. He took a swig, coughed and then waved me away.

  “Be off. Settle that wife of yours and come back to me then.”

  “I will.” I set down the decanter and turned on my heel but he called out after me,

  “Hurry, boy. Don’t linger!”

  Chapter 3

  I found the tenant of Bellevue more than eager to depart. When he told me how much my father was charging him, I wasn’t surprised. He must have been a fool to agree to such a high rent in the first place. Emile sorted out the legalities and soon I was able to walk with my wife through my boyhood home.

  Everything looked very different than it did in my mother’s day. It was gloomy and, although clean, had the smell of a house that had not been loved for a long time.

  “Are you sure you want to live here?” I asked Eugénie. “We could find somewhere else easily enough.”

  “Leave it to me,” she said. “You won’t recognise the place when Sophie and I finish with it. She’s been itching to get her hands on it for years. You both adored Bellevue when your mother was alive, you will again. The mountains are so beautiful…” She gazed into the distance at the view I always missed and described to her, when we lived in Paris.

  “The roof leaks,” I said pragmatically, “and half the floorboards are rotten.”

  “Leaks can be fixed and floorboards replaced. You’ll see. Give us time.”

  So I left them to work, while the children ran riot in the garden and the fields. We hired Rose, a local girl, to be a maid-of-all-work and supervise them. The weather favoured us, staying mainly cold but dry. The roof was made waterproof, well before the snow descended. Floorboards were replaced. Old dank hangings were torn down and new ones hung. Old furniture and rubbish that could not be used or mended became fuel for the fires we kept burning to get rid of the chill. The work was carried on with a will and several rooms became habitable again quite quickly. The house began to feel like home. I did little more than organise the workmen and stay out of the way. Eugénie told me that I had more than enough to do and she could manage.

  So I spent my time at the workshop with Benôit and Georges or with Emile, trying to understand the requirements of Papa’s business.

  “Trade has been slipping away for several years now,” Emile warned me, “mainly because your father has been growing old and unable to attend to business properly. He’s not as shrewd as he was or perhaps he does not care as much. There are bad debts and mistakes which have cost him money.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Papa.”

  “I agree. I offered to help him, but I don’t think he trusts me. Even though I’m Sophie’s husband, I’m not really part of his family. He still thinks of me as the brash lad he disliked.”

  I smiled. “I wish I’d known you then.”

  He laughed. “Just as well you didn’t. We had enough trouble with him without any help. I’ve always been surprised Sophie plucked up enough courage to defy him and marry me.”

  “She must have loved you very much.”

  “She did, or so she told me at the time, and still does. I think of it, when a young hussy tries to flirt with me.”

  “No encumbrances then?”

  “None. You?”

  “Eugénie is enough for any man.”

  “We are both fortunate then.”

  I nodded. Then Emile said, changing the subject before we both became too sentimental.

  “After Jacques died, your father kept saying that you would come back and take over the business.”

  “He never wrote to me. The first information came in Sophie’s last letter.”

  “He wouldn’t let us tell you before. I think he still hoped you would return of your own free will and beg him to take you back.”

  “Small chance of that!”

  “When he took his last turn, the doctors told him he would not get better. Then he relented and asked us to send for you.”

  I nodded. “Well I’m here now. What do I need to do to set the business to rights again?”

  It wasn’t hard but it took time and persistence. Papa’s illness had allowed several other locksmiths to take customers away from us. Now I had to woo them back. I found myself going round the town, renewing old acquaintances, dealing with Papa’s financial affairs and generally making sure that everything worked smoothly. I promoted Georges to manage the day-to-day issues. Papa was wrong about him, I discovered. He did have a head f
or business, once he was free to make his own decisions without Papa constantly looking over his shoulder. I offered the position to Benôit at first but he said,

  “I’m getting old now, Alain, too old to try something new. Let the lad have his chance. I’ll continue for a while and keep an eye on things. It would be better, though, if we had more workers, another apprentice besides Michel to start with, for instance.”

  He spoke sense, so I hired a young man called Henri, a nephew of Georges, who tried very hard to please us both. After a month, I had become fully occupied. The business operated more as it used to do, although we still had a deficit to make up.

  During this time, I contacted some of my old friends. We were all changed from the boys I remembered but most of them seemed pleased to see me again and to meet us socially. I made several new acquaintances as well and Sophie took Eugénie visiting. She met people she liked and we started to have a more normal social life. Jean-Pierre started at the local school, much against his will, for he had found his freedom delightful. After a lot of grumbling, he settled down. Sophie decided that Aimée should share Laure’s lessons and this also worked well.

  In a short time, we were beginning to enjoy life again. I even found myself a fencing master. I have always loved sword play and I like to think I was good at it before my accident. Defending myself was essential in the army and there were several fine swordsmen in my division, with whom I often practised. Later on, the ability to use a sword was often necessary in the Police as well. To exercise my weakened leg, I made myself fence regularly in Paris. I regained part of my former skill and, although slower than before, the new tricks I learned enabled me to hold my own. So I was delighted to find someone to fight with living in Grenoble. He was an Italian called Carlo Rizzi, a man with a fiery temper but a genius with any sort of blade.

  “You could have been almost as great a swordsman as me,” he said after our third bout. “Life has been hard to you.” I would have beaten him, except for my leg buckling at the wrong moment. Keeping up with Carlo made me fitter, which was just as well, considering what fate had in store for me. All in all, we were enjoying our new home and the future looked secure. I should have known it was all too good to last.

  Christmas passed; a day of church, an excellent dinner and then games and stories. Sophie even persuaded Papa to join us. He did not stay long, but he ate his meal, made small talk with the adults and laughed at the children’s play. He tired easily, though, and Emile drove him home before the short winter daylight ended.

  It was in the spring that everything changed and our lives were never quite the same afterwards. One evening in March, Eugénie and I had just finished our dinner when we heard the sound of a carriage arriving at the house.

  “Whoever’s calling at this hour?” Eugénie exclaimed.

  Sophie swirled into the room, her face agog with excitement.

  “What’s happened?” I asked her.

  “ The Emperor’s here!”

  “Who?”

  “Napoleon, of course!”

  “But he can’t be. He’s on Elba.”

  “He isn’t, he’s in Grenoble. My friend, Agathe, saw him galloping into the city and sent me word.”

  I sat down hurriedly. I must have gone pale because Eugénie picked up the decanter and poured me a glass of brandy, with a worried look on her face.

  “Aren’t you pleased?” Sophie asked me shrilly. “You told us you hated those Bourbons.”

  “It will mean another war,” I replied grimly. “The foreigners won’t let the Emperor take over France again, not without a fight.”

  “They might, but that’s not what I wanted you for.”

  “Go on, Sophie. What do you want me for?”

  “Take me to see him. I’ve never seen him before and Emile’s away, just when I need him most. Please, Alain.”

  She clung onto my arm and I looked ruefully at Eugénie. I had never been able to refuse Sophie in this sort of this mood, even when we were children. “Do you want to come too?”

  Eugénie shook her head. “I’ve been presented to him at the Tuileries. I’d rather not go to stare at him in the middle of a seething crowd.”

  “Please, Alain.” Sophie used the wheedling tone which always worked with me.

  I laughed. “All right, I’ll take you, but don’t blame me afterwards if you ruin your gown and get your pocket picked into the bargain.”

  She nearly took my breath away with the strength of her hug.

  “Do you mind me leaving you alone?” I asked Eugénie.

  “Someone has to go with Sophie. She can’t go into a mêlée all by herself. Take care of her, Alain.”

  I put my purse onto the table and told Sophie to do the same. Then I made her take off her jewellery. She protested, of course, but I said, “Leave them on, if you want to lose them”, so she did as I told her. I also insisted she changed her smart new pelisse for an old one of Eugénie’s, something which she never let me forget afterwards. I changed my coat and shoes for older ones.

  “You look like a peasant!” she giggled at me.

  “It’s dark, no one will see us and if you think I’m going to ruin my good clothes, you’re wrong.”

  “Hurry, will you? We’ll miss him.”

  “Not likely. He won’t move before first light, unless they chase him out of the town.”

  We only managed to drive a little way in Sophie’s carriage. The press of people, all heading in the same direction, was too great for us to get through. The word had spread fast. Sophie’s coachman stopped the horses when he could go no further.

  “Shall I wait for you, Madame?” he asked reluctance in his voice.

  Sophie glanced at me. “No, Robert,” I answered, “we can’t be sure how long we will be away and it’s too cold for the horses to stand around. I will bring my sister home.”

  He nodded. It would be some time before the crowd thinned enough for him to turn the carriage in any case. We left him and followed the crowd down the road and through the Bonne Gate. Apparently this was the same way the Emperor had entered the city, a few hours before.

  We went first to the Préfecture. We both were certain he would be there, but we were wrong. The concierge told us that the town officials had indeed offered him their hospitality but he refused.

  “Where is he then?” I asked the man, cutting short his moans about having to stay at his post when everyone else was out enjoying themselves.

  “At the Trois Dauphins in the Rue Montage. The man who runs it, Labarre, was one of his old military guides.”

  I nodded, slipped a franc into his hand as a sweetener and then took Sophie off in the direction of the Rue Montage. It was as well we both ran wild in the town when we were children. We wouldn’t have got anywhere near the inn otherwise. We used alleyways and shortcuts and it was only by shoving and weaving our way through the crowds, that we were able to see him at last. The inn had wide windows and his figure was unmistakable, but Sophie could hardly see above the heads of the crowd. I looked around for somewhere we might stand and spotted a wall almost facing the tavern. I pulled her towards it. Fortunately, Sophie was always able to climb like a cat and she hasn’t forgotten how to do so. I pointed upwards and she understood what I meant. I boosted her up until she found a foothold. Hands reached down to her and the occupants of the wall shuffled to make space, so she was able to sit down next to them. I didn’t like the look of the structure but there was nowhere else and the crowd was growing with every minute. I put my foot in a hole between the stones and hoisted myself up. I clung on, putting my arm over the wall to keep my precarious position. There was no room for me on top. I hung there, twisted around and had a good enough view of the Trois Dauphins, but I hoped we would not have to stay long.

  I shall never forget that scene. Napoleon was standing at an open window, waving to the people below. The inn was guarded by soldiers, looking, for once, very happy; a sight none of us had seen for the last year. The little man stood there,
in his worn green coat, the light of flickering torches illuminating him. Everyone was shouting “Vive l’ Empereur!” I must admit I gave myself over to the emotion of the moment and shouted with all the rest. Napoleon looked like a man who had been dying with thirst and was even now drinking from a stream of crystal water. He had a huge grin on his face as his eyes went back and forth across the upturned faces. He looked straight at me and suddenly his expression changed. He had recognised me, even here in this unlikely spot! I raised my arm and saluted him.

  The movement was too much for the stone my foot was resting on and it collapsed. I fell with an inadvertent yell, drawing all eyes upon me. I wasn’t hurt, but the people below me were not best pleased when I landed among them. I muttered apologies and stood with my back to the wall, beneath Sophie’s dangling feet. My foothold had gone and, if I tried to climb up again, I might bring down the rest of the structure. We were lucky only a couple of stones had fallen. When I looked towards the inn again, standing on tiptoe and peering over the heads of the crowd, Napoleon was again looking in my direction. He was talking to a young man in military uniform. Then he waved to the crowd again.

  I stood beneath Sophie, watching and hoping she might have seen enough, so we could go home. A small disturbance in the throng made me turn that way. The young man in military uniform whom I had seen in the window was coming towards me.

  “Are you Monsieur Duval?” he shouted, trying to make himself heard above the roar of the crowd.

  “Yes?”

  “You are to come with me. The Emperor’s orders.”

  “He wants to see me?”

  “Yes, at once.”

  “A moment, please.” I turned to help Sophie down. I put up my arms and she leaped into them with a grin, almost bringing us both to the ground. I steadied her and took her arm.

  “I have no instructions about the lady,” the young man protested, as if he would separate us.