The Launching of Roger Brook

by Dennis Wheatley

  These details having been settled, Roger endeavoured to express his gratitude; but the Abbé waved aside his thanks, yawned once more and said:

  ‘Think nothing of it. ’Tis you who elect to surround your pleasures with so dramatic and dangerous an aura. For myself, I doubt if even a female archangel could woo me into deliberately courting death on her behalf. ’Tis such a marvellous day and hour in which to live. It will not last, alas! Night and darkness are almost upon us. The starving pack is already stirring in its noisome kennels, and within a year or two will, I doubt not, have torn many of us limb from limb. As for those who come after, none will know what the sweetness of life can be who have not lived in Paris before the Revolution.’

  ‘Aprés nous le deluge, eh?’ Roger smiled.

  De Périgord stood up and drew his shot-silk gown about him. ‘It profits one little to swim against the tide, so a wise man swims with it. Now, if you will forgive me, I must make myself presentable to receive those foolish friends of mine, who cannot let well alone; and, instead of rejoicing in all the good things that God has sent them, must ever be striving to bring about some new order of society, which will inevitably put a halter about their own necks.’

  ‘He who is forewarned is forearmed,’ suggested Roger. ‘I have a feeling that, whatever may befall you, you will find some way to survive it.’

  Napoleon’s future Arch-Chancellor laid a hand upon his shoulder. ‘May your kind prophecy be true; and, with more immediate cause, I hope the same for you.’ Upon which, they parted.

  That night Roger started putting his affairs in order. He wrote three letters and made a will. The first letter was a very brief one to his father asking forgiveness for the disappointment he had caused him; the second a somewhat longer one to his mother telling her something of his love affair and the circumstances which made it imperative that he should risk his life; the third, a very long one to Georgina, saying that he felt sure that his previous letter to her must have gone astray, and giving a vivid picture, without reservations, of his four years in France. In his will he left his money to his mother, his sword to M. de la Tour d’Auvergne, his books to the Abbé de Périgord, and his clothes to Chenou.

  The following evening he went round to see de la Tour d’Auvergne, explained what he planned to do and gave him the four documents, all contained in one large covering envelope, asking that he would deal with them should de Caylus emerge the victor by delivering a mortal thrust.

  The Vicomte listened gravely till Roger had finished, then he said: ‘I honour you greatly for the risk you are about to take. De Caylus is a terrible antagonist and, even if fortune favours you, should you be caught you will certainly be tried for murder.’

  ‘I hope to escape that,’ Roger replied, and went on to explain. ‘If all goes well only Athénaïs, de Périgord and yourself will ever know who killed the Count. I shall return at once to the Hôtel de Rochambeau and resume my normal activities there next day. There is no reason whatever why anyone should suspect me of the killing. In fact, ’tis of paramount importance that they should not, myself apart, on account of Athénaïs.’

  ‘I see your thought,’ the Vicomte nodded. ‘If it becomes known that ’twas you who fought on Athénaïs’s behalf, ’twill be said that you have been having an affair with her. As an unmarried girl she will be completely ruined and her father is certain to force her to take the veil as the only way of restoring the family honour. But think you de Périgord will be able to induce de Caylus to fight without knowing who it is that sends the challenge?’

  ‘Oh, surely! The Count at least does not lack for courage, and has fought many times. He must by now have superb confidence in his ability to hold his own against any man; so I cannot think for one moment that he would refuse a challenge, once he is assured that it comes from a person whose birth entitles him to send it.’

  ‘’Twill, all the same, be a most unusual meeting; and lest some unforeseen circumstances arise I would fain accompany you to it, to be on hand if needed.’

  ‘Nay,’ protested Roger, ‘I thank you mightily. But I have no wish to involve you. Besides, you are not yet fully recovered from your wound.’

  ‘I am not mended to the point of wielding a sword, but I have been riding again recently. You will need someone to hold your horse, and the Abbé being a priest ’tis but right that he should leave the scene as soon as he has assured de Caylus that his challenger is one who has the right to bear arms. Moreover, the Count is much more likely to accept your challenge if he is informed that someone of my status is present to see fair play.’

  ‘All that you say is true,’ Roger admitted, ‘and I dare take no chances; so I accept your offer gratefully. As soon as I hear from de Périgord about a rendezvous I will let you know it, and when the time comes we will ride thither together.’

  The following two days, Thursday and Friday, Roger spent both his mornings and evenings at a fencing-school he had occasionally frequented, which lay just off the Halles. It was largely a resort of soldiers of fortune, and on each occasion he offered two louis to anyone who could best him. Out of ten bouts he lost only three, and two of those were at the end of evening sessions when his wrist was tired, so he felt that he would at least be able to make the redoubtable de Caylus work very hard to obtain a victory.

  On the Friday evening he received a brief note from the Abbé, which ran:

  ‘Your man plans to spend Monday night at Meudon with Olympe. His habit on such occasions is to leave Versailles about eight o’clock; but to be on the safe side I will be waiting for you at half-past seven, a half-mile beyond Sevres on the Sevres-Chaville road.’

  On Saturday morning Roger duly informed de la Tour d’Auvergne of the rendezvous, and got in three more fencing-bouts. Then, at six o’clock, he kept his appointment with Athénaïs.

  When he told her his intentions she begged him not to expose himself and said that she would rather take the veil than have him risk his life for her sake. On his proving adamant she declared that she would go straight downstairs and defy her father, and thus render Roger’s desperate scheme futile.

  ‘My angel,’ he said tenderly, ‘I cannot stop you, but ’twould then be your act which would be futile. Having accepted the help of Monsieurs de Périgord and de la Tour d’Auvergne I cannot now draw back, or they would look upon me as a coward. I beg you not to plead further with me for, whatever you may do, I am now determined to fight de Caylus and kill him if I can.’

  Plead she did, but without avail; and this, which they knew might be their last meeting, ended by her giving him her kerchief, to wear as her champion, and promising to refrain from burning her boats until Tuesday, the day before the wedding, by which time she would know whether her fiancé or her lover had proved the victor.

  It was later that evening that M. de Rochambeau said to Roger: ‘Although ’tis Sunday tomorrow I intend to hold a conference. M. de Rayneval has returned in secret from the United Provinces and affairs there have now reached a point at which important decisions must be taken without further delay. During the past few months, M. de Montmorin seems to have caught His Majesty’s congenital complaint of indecision; but I will have him shilly-shally with us no longer. He is coming here at four o’clock and my friends and I intend to put our views before him in no uncertain manner. We shall be fifteen, all told, so have the conference table prepared and hold yourself in readiness. I wish you to be present in the room to take note of the various viewpoints that may be expressed, and to draft a document which I plan that M. de Rayneval should take back with him.’

  On numerous previous occasions Roger had attended such conferences for a similar purpose and, apart from the fact that this one was to be somewhat larger than usual, there was no reason to suppose that anything of exceptional interest would transpire at it. Having accepted the Marquis’s orders with his habitual quiet deference, he was so wrapped up in his own affairs that he thought no more of it till the following afternoon.

  Shortly before four
o’clock, M. de Rochambeau’s usual collaborators, Messieurs de Breteuil, de Polignac, de Castries and de Ségur arrived with others who were less frequent visitors; the Duc de Normandie, who was governor to the Dauphin, the famous Admiral de Suffren, France’s greatest sailor, M. Bérard, the head of the French East India Company, the Duc de Lauzun and the Marquis de Vaudreuil, both close friends of the Queen, the Duc de Châtelet, who had recently been replaced as Ambassador to the Court of St. James’s by the Comte d’Adhémar, the Duc de Coigny, the Master of the Royal Horse, and one man that Roger did not know. The party was completed by de Montmorin and de Rayneval.

  When they had all seated themselves round the big oval table Roger sat down at a small one near the door, and M. de Rochambeau opened the proceedings.

  ‘Monsieur le Ministre,’ he said, addressing himself to the Comte de Montmorin, ‘My friends and I have asked you to meet us here today in order that we may put before you the state of affairs in the United Provinces and propose to you certain actions which we recommend in regard to them. M. de Rayneval, very rightly in my view, has taken the exceptional step of returning thence, without being recalled by you, to urge upon us that further procrastination may lose us all that we have been working to achieve for many months past. With him he has brought our distinguished soldier, M. le Comte de Maillebois, whom the Dutch Republican leaders themselves chose to command their free-corps in the event of civil war. It would be best, I think, if these two gentlemen now gave us their first-hand information on the situation that so closely concerns us all.’

  M. de Rayneval spoke first, and for about twenty minutes gave a dissertation on the attitude of Mynheer Van Berkel, the leader of the Republicans in Amsterdam, and on that of the Pensionaries of the other principal Dutch cities; from which it was clear that the great majority of them were only awaiting a firm promise of French support, in the event of intervention by Prussia, to join in a concerted uprising against the Stadtholder.

  Roger listened with only half an ear. His mind was full of lunges, ripostes and foot-movements, and he now knew this old story backwards. Since France could not possibly afford a war he was convinced that no such promise would be forthcoming; and that while this powerful group of French Imperialists would continue to egg the Dutch Republicans on in secret they would never dare to commit themselves to any step which might lead to a European conflict.

  The Comte de Maillebois then took up the tale. He was the one member of the conference whom Roger had not known by sight, and as he began to give facts and figures about the volunteer Republican bands in various cities, Roger listened to him with somewhat more interest. The Count concluded his remarks by expressing the opinion that, while, as a professional soldier, he found the Dutch burghers somewhat poor material, they were sufficiently numerous and keen for him to state with confidence that he could hold the northern frontiers with them against the Prussians until a French army could be marched across the country to his assistance.

  The Marquis then called in turn on the Minister of War and the Minister of Marine.

  The old Marshal de Segur said that, as they all knew, the flower of the French regular army was already assembled in Flanders, under the command of that most brilliant soldier, the Marquis’s brother, M. le Comte de Rochambeau. The word had only to be given for it to be set in motion and, with the aid of the free-corps controlled by M. de Maillebois, all the strong places of the United Provinces would be in French hands within a fortnight.

  The Marshal de Castries added that the Fleet was in a state of instant readiness and, with the aid of the insurgents, could take possession of the Dutch ports within a week.

  Roger still saw no cause for alarm, and he wondered vaguely why this group of war-mongers bothered to waste their time discussing what they could do in certain eventualities, when they all knew perfectly well that these vast preparations were no more than a game of bluff, and that in actual fact they dared not move a single man or ship.

  The Marquis was now speaking again: ‘… and so you see, Monsieur le Ministre, the stage is set. ’Twas from a man whose politics and private life I deplore, but for whose brain I have a very great respect, that, a little over a year ago, I first had the idea of forming this secret army within the very walls of the cities of a foreign state, and…’

  Roger suppressed a start. M. de Rochambeau could only be referring to the Abbé de Périgord, and the conversation between them that he had overheard while standing in the secret closet. For a moment he was so shaken that he did not catch the next few sentences. It was clear now as the sun in a summer sky that the Marquis had adopted the Abbé’s subtle scheme and all these months been steadily proceeding with it. Roger recalled the instructions for arms to be smuggled in, the great payment of gold to the Dutch Ambassadors, and a hundred details, all of which had remained unconnected in his mind at the time but now fell into place. He was intensely angry to think that M. de Rochambeau should have fooled him so completely, then followed swift humiliation at the thought that, since the Marquis had concealed nothing from him but the central fact, it was he who had been utterly blind and fooled himself.

  ‘… and therefore,’ the Marquis was going on, ‘we must not, any longer, regard the Dutch free-corps as groups of political insurgents activated only by a desire to secure certain liberties for themselves. Doubtless they still consider themselves in that light; but, in actual fact, they are now part of the French army; a French Foreign Legion working under French direction who, at our command, will seize the United Provinces and render them, in all but name, a part of France herself.’

  ‘’Twas a stroke of genius,’ declared de Castries enthusiastically. The Dutch ports will fall into our hands like ripe plums.’

  ‘And the rich trade in the Dutch Indies,’ added de Coigny.

  M. Bérard hit the table. ‘With France in control of the Dutch settlements at the Cape of Good Hope, I vow we’d drive the British India Company into bankrupcty within three years.’

  ‘Come, Monsieur le Ministre,’ urged de Breteuil. ‘You have but to sign a letter for M. de Rayneval to take back with him, and the thing is as good as done.’

  M. de Montmorin shook his head. The King, gentlemen, must first agree to this; and I will confess that I have not yet consulted His Majesty upon it. I dare not give such a pledge to our Dutch friends without his assent, or at least that of the Archbishop of Toulouse.’

  ‘The King!’ exclaimed de Polignac, with contempt. ‘’Twould be fatal to bring him into the business, for he’d not have the resolution to say yea or nay this side of the grave. ’Twas only the other day that Monsieur, his brother, said of him, “When you can keep a number of oiled ivory billiard balls together in your hand, you may then do something with the King.” And ’twas a fair assessment.’

  Then the Archbishop must be asked to decide for him,’ replied de Montmorin firmly. ‘It will, I fear, come as a shock to you, but as from this evening, His Grace of Toulouse is to formally assume the rôle of Prime Minister. His Majesty informed me personally of this new decision of his at noon today.’

  De Montmori’s announcement caused an extraordinary sensation and was met by a chorus of exclamations.

  ‘Then we’re to return to the old days of Prime Ministers, eh?’

  ‘I knew he had gained the King’s ear, but hardly suspected this!’

  ‘God save us all if that ambitious prelate is to rule the roost!’

  ‘’Tis the height of folly to place supreme power in the hands of so vain and fickle a man at such a time as this!’

  ‘I’ll not submit to it,’ declared de Castries angrily. ‘I have not built up our Navy only to act as the agent of its destruction on the orders of so incompetent a master; I shall resign.’

  ‘I, too, shall return my portfolio to His Majesty,’ de Ségur announced. ‘I am too old now to begin transacting my business with the King through any third party.’

  ‘Monsieurs! Monsieurs!’ The Marquis raised his voice to quell the tumult. ‘I beg you
to take no rash action for the moment. Even in the face of such a sudden and ill-advised decision on the part of the King, I pray that you will place the interests of the country before your own. I ask you for no more than a fortnight. De Rayneval and de Maillebois inform me that, given this letter pledging French support, the Dutch Republicans have already agreed to launch their coup d’état against the Stadtholder on the 10th of September. Should you resign before that date our whole plan will be placed in jeopardy. I most earnestly entreat you to retain, your portfolios till then, whatever you may decide to do afterwards.’

  De Breteuil, De Polignac and De Coigny strongly supported M. de Rochambeau and, after a brief discussion, the other Ministers agreed to do as he asked. De Montmorin then said:

  ‘I regret the concern that my news has caused you, Monsieurs; but I had to make my own position clear. The whole issue must be placed before the Archbishop. If he consents I will do my part as Foreign Minister willingly enough, but not unless.’

  Roger relaxed again. All was in the melting-pot once more, and, as usual, no definite action would be taken Besides, he reasoned, even if the Dutch free-corps, having seized power, were fools enough to hand their country over to French domination, that would not stop the Prussians attempting the Stadtholder’s restoration; and that meant war, which these sabre-rattlers were not prepared to stomach.

  At that very moment M. de Montmorin voiced his thoughts with the words: ‘Even if M. de Rochambeau’s contention is correct and, with the aid of his secret columns, we could seize the country virtually overnight, that is no guarantee that the Prussians and the English will not combine against us in an attempt to restore the Stadtholder; and, if they do, a European conflict is inevitable.’