'Peace with England!' The Emperor banged his list violently on his desk. 'Never! Commerce has always been their strength. They are a nation of shopkeepers; and by my measures I'll break them yet.'
With equal violence, Roger thrust out an accusing finger. 'You are no longer the great First Consul who restored law and prosperity to France. The lust for power has unbalanced your mind. If you do not cease to play the pan of God without his wisdom, you will become known as the "mad Emperor".'
Napoleon was again going purple in the face. 'I'll hear no more!' he screamed. 'What you have said is Lese majeste. I could have you shot for it.'
Roger had known from the beginning that he had little chance of walking out of the room a free man. Now indignation had led him to burn his boats entirely. His eyes blazing, he shouted back:
'Shoot me then. I give not a damn. I'll be no more than another of the million men who, for your selfish ends, you have caused to die on battlefields.'
For a full minute the Emperor remained silent, breathing heavily. Then, as often happened after being shaken by one of his terrible rages, his anger drained away, and he said quietly:
'Nay, I will not do that. You saved my life that night when we were together on an island outside Venice. I now give you yours. I will go further. I'll not hold against you what you have just said of me. It was due only to your mind not being large enough to appreciate that my acts, of which you disapprove, were necessary in carrying out my great designs.'
Suddenly his voice became harsh as he went on, 'But in my service I have no place for deserters. That you neglected my interests to pursue this woman, I am convinced. I hereby deprive you of your rank, of your status as a Commander of the Legion d’Honneur, and sentence you to five years' imprisonment in a fortress.'
Roger paled. He had expected no more than a sentence of six months, or a year at the worst. There was nothing more he could say or do. He had hopelessly overplayed his hand and lost.
Then, as the Emperor put out his hand to the bell which would summon the escort, a side door in the big salon was thrown open and Josephine came running in.
In her hand the Empress held several sheets of parchment, covered with close writing. 'Napoleon!' she cried. 'I have news! The most wonderful news.' Then she threw her arms round her husband and kissed him.
Frowning at being disturbed, he half drew back and asked testily, 'News? What news?'
Josephine was about to reply when she caught sight of Roger. Turning, she ran towards him, with both hands outstretched, as she exclaimed, 'Why, here is the hero of it all! Our paladin I Our Sir Galahad! The most valiant gentleman in all France. How right they were to name you le brave Breuc?
Roger took her hands and kissed them. He had been a close friend of Josephine's for many years. Over those years he had often given her sound advice. By saving her reputation he had enabled her marriage to Napoleon to take place. Later, when Napoleon had threatened divorce on account of her infidelities, Roger had again saved the situation. There had been an occasion when she had saved his life. Her present outburst left him entirely at a loss. Wildly his mind clutched at the thought that she might save him now.
Napoleon, equally puzzled, exclaimed, 'Come! What is all this about?'
Gaily she waved the long letter. 'This should have reached me ten days ago, had it not had to be sent on from Paris. It is from Turkey; from my beloved cousin Aimee Dubucq. All is changed. There has been another revolution there. When Baraiktar, the Pasha of Rustchuk, learned how Mustapha and his evil mother had dethroned the Sultan Selim, he marched his army from distant Bulgaria to Constantinople, surprised those devilish Janissaries and defeated them. Poor Selim is dead. He gave his life while the Seraglio was being stormed, to defend his young cousin, Mahmoud. Mustapha is now a prisoner and Mahmoud proclaimed Sultan. The prophecy of our youth, that Aimee and I would wear crowns, came true, and now the last part of it will follow. Dear Aimee's son, the enlightened friend of France, will reign gloriously.'*
'This is indeed good news,' agreed the Emperor. 'But what has all this to do with Breuc?'
'Had it not been for him, Aimee, Selim and Mahmoud would all have been murdered on the night that the Janissaries revolted.' Josephine again waved the letter. 'It is all here. He was in the Seraglio that night, dining with them en famille. When they heard the screams of the eunuchs who were being slaughtered, and the Janissaries began breaking down the doors of the apartment, Selim resigned himself to death. But le brave Breuc took command. He got them all up a chimney on to the roof, then, at great peril, out of the Seraglio to a boat in which they rowed up the Bosphorus to a castle with a loyal garrison. It was that which enabled them to parley and so save their lives.'
The Emperor stared at Roger. 'Gardane told me nothing of this.'
* Historical note. The prophecy did come true. For thirty-one years Mahmoud ruled the Turkish Empire. During his reign he revolutionised Turkey by introducing many reforms and Western customs. But this normally mild man never forgave the Janissaries. Aimee died, venerated by all, in 1817. Nine years after her death, Mahmoud, having slowly created a new body of Household troops loyal to him, decided to deal with the Janissaries, who were again giving serious trouble. He had five thousand of them slain in a single night and abolished the corps for ever.
Roger bowed. 'Why should he, Sire? It was, like my last, a private venture; and differs only in that it did not fail. As a result of it I am happy to think that I preserved not only the Empress' dear friend, -but a Sultan whose pro-French leaning should prove of value to Your Majesty.'
'You must decorate him I' Josephine cried. 'Make him a Count, or at least a Baron.'
Frowning, Napoleon said curtly, 'On the contrary, Madame, I have sentenced him to five years in prison.'
'Prison! No; it is unthinkable. What can he possibly have done to incur so great a measure of your displeasure?'
'He is a deserter. Instead of obeying my orders to go to India, he came to Lisbon and has since absented himself from my service for many months.'
Josephine's big dark eyes flashed angrily. 'Is that so great a crime when, for many years, he has served you faithfully? And I doubt not he had a good reason for absenting himself.'
'He did so to pursue a woman.'
The anger in Josephine's eyes swiftly disappeared. Throwing back her head, she laughed, for once showing her only bad feature—uneven, discoloured teeth. 'Now I am truly amazed,' she said to her husband. 'Even my great Eagle does not give all his life to waging war and affairs of State. How can he expect lesser men not at times to give way to the most natural of temptations?'
Roger knew what that laugh had cost her. During the early years of her marriage, Josephine had been flagrantly unfaithful to Napoleon. But time had wrought a change in her. Not only had she become devoted to him, but his infidelities to her pained her greatly. She had made light of a man neglecting his duty for a woman only to strike a spark of sympathy in Napoleon's mind for the frailty of which Roger was accused.
A cynical smile twisted Napoleon's lips for a second. 'In one sense you are right, my dear. Certain impulses must be satisfied unless a man's work is to suffer from their repression. But Breuc has overstepped the mark by indulging his own inclinations for far too long.'
'Sire,' Roger protested swiftly, 'I erred only in going to Lisbon, as I thought in your best interests, instead of to India. To Brazil I was carried off against my will.'
'Do you swear that?'
'I do, Sire; upon my honour.'
Coming round from behind the desk, Napoleon stretched out his plump, beautifully-modelled hand, seized the lobe of Roger's left ear and tweaked it painfully. While making this curious gesture of approbation, he said, 'Very well, then, you amorous scoundrel. You are reprieved. For that you must thank the Empress.'
Hardly daring to believe that he had heard aright, Roger went down on one knee and kissed the hand Josephine extended to him. Quickly she raised him and cried, 'You owe me
nothing. I felt sure that all the time the Emperor was only trying to frighten you. He has far too big a heart to behave harshly to an old friend.'
Roger admired her tact, but had the gravest doubts about her statement as applying to himself before she had come upon the scene. Meanwhile, she was going on, 'You must join us for supper and it will be quite like old times. Afterwards I will read you Aimee's letter, and you must tell us all about your recent adventures.'
Napoleon nodded, and said, 'You were right about the state of Spain. It is causing me considerable concern. Tomorrow you can go into the matter with Berthier. He will find plenty of ways in which we can make good use of you.'
Bowing his acquiescence, Roger suppressed a sigh. Although he had had a miraculous escape, gone was all prospect of a speedy return to England. Once more he had been caught in that tangled web, on the unravelling of which depended the future of Europe.
Josephine proved right, in that supper was very reminiscent of the informal meals that Roger had enjoyed in the old days at Malmaison, with only a few intimate friends present. As a raconteur he was at his best and, rallying himself after the ordeal through which he had just passed, he held the interest of the small company with an account of the trials and tribulations he had suffered both voyaging to and in Brazil.
Then he told them about his marriage. Everyone congratulated him, and Josephine cried, 'Now I can reward you myself for saving dear Aimee. You must send for your wife, and I will make her one of my ladies.'
But Napoleon habitually ate fast, so the meal was soon over, and they adjourned to a small drawing room. After such suppers at Malmaison, they had often played charades or the First Consul had had all the candles but one put out and frightened the ladies by telling ghost stories. Those days were gone and, having listened with slight signs of impatience while Josephine read Aimee's letter, he began to fire questions at Roger about Syria, Mesopotamia and Persia. Roger's replies were always swift and to the point; and, by the end of the evening, he was confident that he had again established himself in the Emperor's good graces.
Next morning he reported to Berthier. The dome-headed little Chief of Staff spread out a map on which were marked the places in Spain where there had been outbreaks of rebellion and the estimated numbers of the insurgents. The picture was even more formidable than Roger had been led to believe. Moreover, Berthier told him that a Convention had been formed by leading representatives of all the groups to co-ordinate measures against the French; but where it held its meetings was unfortunately unknown.
That evening, Roger wrote to Lisala, telling her that he would be remaining with the Emperor, of the honour the Empress proposed to do her, and that she should set out for Madrid as soon as possible. He also wrote to Junot asking, in view of the unsettled state of the country, to provide an escort for her.
During the ten days that followed, alarming reports of the state of the country continued to pour in. The news of the revolts that had broken out spontaneously in half a dozen places had acted like dynamite on the whole people. With incredible speed, the long-suffering Spaniards in every city, town and village had loosed their hatred of the French. With fanatical zeal they had taken up arms to destroy their oppressors. Blood-lusting mobs had seized Mayors and other authorities who were puppets of the French administration and hanged them in the squares. Many considerable towns were now in the hands of the insurgents. They gave no quarter, and small bodies of French troops were continually ambushed and murdered.
Then the news arrived that, on July 4th, Canning had entered into an alliance with the Convention representing the people of Spain. Grimly Napoleon had to accept the fact that Spain, for so long his unwilling ally, had gone over to the enemy and was now, officially, at war with France.
With his usual dynamic energy, he issued innumerable orders, concentrating his troops in vital areas. The road from Bayonne via Burgos to Madrid was to be kept open at all costs. Bessieres, with eighty thousand men, would hold the north; Dupont, with another army, would suppress the revolts in the south. But on July 20th the most staggering news came in. After early successes, General Dupont, his troops weighed down with plunder, had been forced to retire into Baylen. On the previous day he had surrendered and his twenty thousand men had laid down their arms.
Napoleon's fury knew no bounds. He was escorted to his apartment, screaming curses. When he had been somewhat calmed down, he sobbed, 'Could I have expected that from Dupont, a man whom I loved and was rearing to become a Marshal? They say he had no other way to save the lives of his soldiers. Better, far better to have died with arms in their hands. Their death would have been glorious; we should have avenged them. You can always supply the place of soldiers. Honour alone, when once lost, can never be regained.'
It was a terrible blow, for it shattered the Grand Army's belief in its invincibility, and the surrender of one of its corps to a rabble of peasants armed with ancient shotguns, scythes and pitchforks was the last ignominy.
On the 22nd, Lisala arrived. She had delayed to collect as much money as she could. With her she also brought her old nurse, Josefa Bilboa. She had a nerve-racking journey as. in spite of the escort of Chasseurs supplied by Junot, her convoy had been fired upon three times. One of the men had been killed and several wounded; but she had escaped unharmed.
Although Lisala was now six months pregnant, her condition was still not obvious at first glance and, when Roger presented her to Josephine, her striking beauty made a great impression on those present. The Empress received her with the greatest kindness and told her at once that only very light duties would be expected of her, as she must rest a lot and take care of her health.
As a married couple, the de Breucs were given a comfortable suite, and Lisala soon made friends with several of Josephine's ladies. But she was greatly disappointed by the Court She had heard so much of the magnificent balls and fetes given by the Emperor whenever his headquarters were in a city, and had expected life in Madrid to be a round of pleasure. Instead, the inmates of the Palace now lived much as they would have done had they been in a well-provisioned fortress.
Since the revolt, all social activities had ceased. The ladies were forbidden to leave the Palace and had to while away the time as best they could with needlework and music. The brilliantly uniformed Staff Officers could give no time to entertaining them. Roger and his companions spent many hours each day writing despatches, sifting intelligence and routeing convoys of food and ammunition to isolated garrisons. They could snatch only hasty meals, and often did not get to bed until the early hours of the morning. Sweating and dust-covered, an unending succession of couriers clattered in and out of the courtyard. The Emperor, stern and gloomy, was rarely to be seen.
In spite of the continued success of the insurgents, Napoleon still refused to recognise the magnitude of the struggle with which he was faced. He stubbornly maintained that, given good leadership, twenty-five thousand French troops could quell the rebellion. Then, early in August, he suddenly decided to return to Paris. Overnight everyone began hastily to pack, scores of coaches and wagons were mustered, and the mile-long cavalcade took the road to France.
It was a far from pleasant journey. The broiling sun on the roofs of the coaches made the interiors like ovens; and, in many places, owing to lack of habitable accommodation, their stifled occupants had to sleep in them. Daily couriers overtook them, with news of further French reverses. The surrender at Baylen had injected into the Spaniards a positive conviction that only courage was needed to drive the French out of Spain.
In the north-east the hardy Catalans had risen and, by sheer audacity, forced the French to retire into the fortresses at Barcelona and Figueras. In Aragon, Saragossa had become the scene of appalling slaughter, with ferocious street fighting, in which the French garrison was driven from house to house.
Joseph, now King of Spain, had arrived in his new capital a few days after Napoleon's departure. He remained there only a wee
k. Fearing that a great body of insurgents which was marching on Madrid would capture it, he had fled with the army of which he was the titular Commander, north to the far side of the river Ebro. Savary had given up the line of the Upper Douro, and was fighting a rearguard action in an attempt to join up with Bessieres. Finally, to crown this tale of woe, when they reached Paris they learned that a British army under the command of Sir Arthur Wellesley, had landed in Portugal and was advancing on Lisbon.
As soon as the Court had settled into its quarters in the Palace of St. Cloud, Roger went to call on Talleyrand. The elegant Prince de Benevento had just finished entertaining some friends to an epicurean breakfast. When they had taken their leave, leaning on Roger's arm he led him into a small library, and the two old friends settled down to talk.
They had no secrets from each other. After Roger had given an abbreviated account of his doings in Turkey, Persia, Brazil and, finally, of his narrow escape from spending five years in a fortress, the great statesman laughed and said:
'That so resourceful a man as yourself should have been outwitted and kidnapped by your charmer I find most amusing; but your escape from the Emperor's wrath shows that your lucky star is still in the ascendant. You are lucky, too, to be out of Spain. From the reports I receive, I gather all hell has been let loose there.'
'It has, indeed, although our little man refuses to recognise it.'
'He has become the victim of folie de grandeur, and will no longer listen to anyone. By his treatment of the Spanish royal family at Bayonne, he signed away Spain. That was the match that lit the bonfire. They are, admittedly, the most miserable people; incompetent and cowardly to the last degree. But that does not alter the fact that they are venerated by the Spanish masses.'
'I am told that you had them for a while at your chateau of Valencay.'
'Yes, although Napoleon has lost his judgment he retains his cunning. He sent them to me in order to implicate me in his treatment of them; although, from the beginning, I have made it plain to him how strongly I disapprove of his intentions regarding Spain.'
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