Evil in a Mask rb-9

by Dennis Wheatley

  To his surprise, he learned that the Emperor had left Madrid for Paris in great haste on the evening of the previous day, so he must have passed along the road through Valladolid while Roger was sleeping. Between the 19th and the 23rd, Napoleon had placed Ney in command of the army despatched to outflank Sir John Moore, and for the past four days had been constantly sending couriers after him to insist that he press on in spite of a blizzard which was rendering the moun­tains of Galicia almost impassable. In view of the frenzied excitement the Emperor had displayed at this chance to des­troy the British, his sudden departure was more than ever a mystery. But Roger learned the reason from Lavalette, one of his fellow A.D.C.s.

  Undoubtedly, after the Emperor, Talleyrand and Fouche were the two most powerful men in France. Both had made immense fortunes, but their backgrounds and personalities were as different as it was possible for them to be.

  The two men loathed and had constantly opposed each other. Napoleon had always secretly feared the intellect and influence of both; so it suited him admirably that his two prin­cipal lieutenants in directing the affairs of France should be irreconcilable.

  It now emerged that the Emperor had learned that these erstwhile enemies, who never attended the same function if they could avoid each other, had been seen arm-in-arm at a reception given by Madame de Remusat. Still more formid­able, Napoleon's stepson, Eugene de Beauharnais, Viceroy of Italy, had intercepted a letter from Talleyrand to Murat, in­forming the King of Naples that relays of horses were being stationed across France to bring him to Paris with the utmost speed in case of a certain eventuality.

  Roger instantly saw the implications. He already knew that Talleyrand was secretly working to bring about the Emperor's downfall. Evidently Fouche now also realised that Napoleon's ceaseless wars were bleeding France to death, so his rule must be ended. They had decided to stage a coup d'etat while the Emperor had his hands full in Spain.

  But why put Murat on the throne? Because, even if Joseph had been prepared to accept it, the French people would not have him, or any of the other Bonaparte brothers, as their Em­peror. On the other hand, Murat, the handsome, dashing Ca­valry leader, hero of a score of battles, was immensely popular and, pushed on by his boundlessly ambitious wife, Caroline, would not scruple to supplant his brother-in-law. Moreover, such a vain and stupid blockhead was just the sort of figure­head who would give no trouble, so enable Talleyrand and Fouche between them to rule France.

  As they discussed the matter, Roger found that Lavalatte had reached the same conclusion. He had been left behind to see to certain matters which Napoleon had had no time to settle, but had now completed them. So, on the following morn­ing the two A.D.C.s left Madrid together, speculating on whether, when they reached Paris, they would find that the two great conspirators had been arrested, or that Napoleon was deposed and the capital in a turmoil.

  They arrived at the Palace of St. Cloud on January 7th. Everything there was proceeding as smoothly as usual in this new year of 1809, and discreet enquiries soon informed them that both Talleyrand and Fouche were still at liberty. After reporting to the Emperor, Roger went to his wife's apartment.

  Lisala was lying on a day-bed, reading. Throwing her book aside, she jumped to her feet and cried, 'So there you are! I thought the Emperor might have left you in Spain for good. I am delighted to see you.'

  Roger had been absent for some six weeks, but during that time his sentiments towards Lisala had not changed in the least. He had no desire at all to resume relations with her, and was surprised that she should apparently wish him to; so he said quietly:

  'It is polite of you, Madame, to welcome me back; but I have no intention of again succumbing to your blandishments.'

  She laughed. 'You poor fool. Months ago I accepted the fact that we no longer had any use for one another physically. But you are still my husband, and I have been hoping that you would return to fulfil your obligations. The money I brought from Portugal ran out some time ago; and, while the war continues, it is impossible for me to secure more from that source. It is a husband's duty to support his wife, and I need money.'

  Turning, she opened the drawer of a bureau, produced a sheaf of bills and handed them to him. Glancing through them, he saw that she owed milliners and modistes some eleven thousand francs. During the years he had amassed a considerable fortune, but that lay in England. While on the Continent, he was dependent on his pay as an A.D.C., and honorarium as a Commander of the Legion of Honour. These were handsome; moreover, he lived mainly at the Emperor's expense and, while on campaigns, spent little. Even so, he could not afford to allow her to spend at such a rate. Abruptly he told her that he would settle her debts, but in future she must limit herself to one thousand francs a month, otherwise he would be unable to meet their liabilities.

  This new imposition of having to pay for expensive clothes, in order that she could enhance her attraction for other men, was another thorn in his flesh. As he left her, he wondered whether, when he had been with Sir John Moore, he had been foolish not to remain with the British army and so return to England.

  Against the sickness he felt at being saddled with Lisala could be set the present intriguing situation. Having for so long been on the inside of the events that had led to the Re­volution, the fall of Robespierre, the Directoire and the rise to supreme power of Napoleon, he could not bear the thought of not participating in the moves which might result in the Emperor's-downfall, now that such powerful influences were scheming to bring it about.

  For close on three weeks, no event of importance occurred, although in Court circles rumours were rife. It was said that the slippery Fouche had cleared himself of participation in a conspiracy. There was no evidence whatever against him, ex­cept that, during the Emperor's absence, he had openly be­come friends with Talleyrand. 'Why not?' he was reported to have argued glibly. 'Although our ideas and tastes differ in many ways, we both have Your Imperial Majesty's in­terests at heart. Surely it is for the benefit of your administra­tion that we should have buried the hatchet and endeavoured to reconcile our points of view?'

  To refute that Napoleon could find no argument, so Fouche remained Minister of the Interior, working from dawn to dusk and long into the night, directing his countless army of spies who permeated every country on the Continent.

  During these days, apart from a few loyal personal friends, Talleyrand remained isolated. Few of the throngs that had formerly graced his salons were prepared to take the risk, should the Emperor's wrath suddenly descend upon him, of having appeared to be his associates. Roger was shrewd enough to realise that, as they already understood each other, only harm could be done by their publicly displaying their friend­ship at this juncture; so he simply sent a note to the effect that, if Talleyrand wished to see him, he would be happy to meet him at any time or place.

  Meanwhile, Napoleon was obviously hesitating to grasp the nettle. Any lesser man he could have dealt with summarily; but not the Prince dc Benevento. He had made the Prince a High Dignitary of the Empire, so that he was equal in status with his own brothers. To strike at him was to strike at one of the props of his own throne. But, on the 28th January, he decided to postpone the issue no longer.

  A Council was called at the Tuileries, at which numerous Dignitaries and Ministers were present, Talleyrand among them. After routine business had been discussed, Napoleon detained him, Cambaceres, Lebrun, Decres and Fouche, but dismissed the others. The Emperor walked up and down, his hands clasped behind his back, gradually working himself up into a fury.

  He accused Talleyrand of constantly working against his interests; of having advised him to have executed the Due d'Enghien; of having persuaded him to go into Spain; of cir­culating rumours designed to destroy public confidence; of influencing wealthy speculators to depress the funds. Then he charged him with the implications in the letter to Murat.

  Talleyrand, who was leaning against the mantelpiece for support, merely raised his eyebrows and shrugged:
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br />   'But, Sire, you were at the war. Your courage is well known. You expose yourself most recklessly. Any day you might be killed. France cannot be allowed to fall into anarchy. We must be prepared for eventualities. None of us would wish to see a Bourbon again on the throne. The situation could be con­trolled only by a man popular with the people whom Your Imperial Majesty has raised in his shadow and would continue to pursue his policies. Who more suitable than your sister's husband, whom you have made King of Naples? But only, I repeat, in the terrible eventuality of Your Majesty's being sud­denly taken from us.'

  The Emperor stared at him, stony-eyed, then burst out, 'I do not believe a word of it. You are a thief! You are a coward! All your life you have deceived and betrayed everyone.' For over twenty minutes Napoleon continued to rave at the Prince, finally winding up:

  'You would sell your own father. You deserve to be broken like a glass. I have the power to do it, but I despise you too much. You are shit in a silk stocking.'

  Talleyrand's face was white, his eyes half-closed, and his lips compressed. He displayed no dejection, but an icy dis­dain.

  Angered beyond endurance by his attitude of apparent in­difference, Napoleon sought to shatter his aristocratic calm by shouting at him:

  'Why did you not tell me that the Duke of San Carlos was your wife's lover?'

  Still imperturbable, Talleyrand replied, 'Indeed, Sire, I did not think that this news was to the increase of Your Majesty's glory, nor mine.'

  Defeated, Napoleon strode towards the door. Casting a menacing look over his shoulder, which included Fouche, he snarled, 'Know that if a revolution does suddenly come about, both of you will be the first to be crushed by it.' Then he slammed the door.

  The eyes of all the others remained fixed on Talleyrand. Leaving the mantelpiece, he limped towards the door. Pausing there, he turned and said:

  'What a pity, Messieurs, that such a great man should have been so badly brought up.'

  Those who had witnessed this amazing scene did not long keep it to themselves. Within a quarter of an hour Roger had an account of it; and, while it appeared that Talleyrand had exonerated himself, he waited anxiously to see what the next move would be.

  The following morning, the Emperor, yet again half cowed, half fascinated by the unbreakable spirit of the great aristo­crat, did no more than deprive him of the office of Grand Chamberlain. That evening, to everyone's amazement, Talley­rand ignored the fact that he was in disgrace and appeared, as imperturbable as ever, at a Court reception.

  On the 30th, Roger received a note from Talleyrand, ask­ing him as a matter of urgency to meet him out at his house at Passey a little before midnight. The summons brought Roger many recollections. The charming petite maison on the out­skirts of Paris had been Talleyrand's home before the Revolu­tion. There he had entertained the foremost Liberals of the French nobility who were striving to bring in long-overdue reforms. It was there that Roger had first met men who after­wards made history. Later, during the Terror, when Talley­rand had had to escape from France, Roger, as a member of the dread Paris Commune, had commandeered the house and so saved it and its contents for its owner. During those terrible days he had at times lived there, once with his wife Amanda, and at another time with the beautiful Athenais de Rochambeau.

  Dressed in civilian clothes, he drove out there in a hired coach. It was a bitter winter night and raining. Muffled in his cloak, he walked up the garden path, and hammered with the knocker on the front door. It was opened almost immediately by Antoine Velot. He and his wife, Marie, as butler and cook-housekeeper, had been the only permanent staff there for many years. During the long period of Talleyrand's exile, Roger had paid their wages and, in return, when he made brief visits to the house, they had given him most faithful service.

  Antoine was now well advanced in years; but, having re­ceived Roger with delight, he declared that le bon Dieu had blessed himself and his wife by keeping them both hale and hearty. He then showed Roger into the small library. Talley­rand was there, lounging on a sofa, with Fouche seated op­posite him; while old Marie was putting the finishing touches to a cold collation on a side tabic. After greeting the two men, Roger put his hands on Marie's shoulders as she curtsied to him, raised her up and kissed her withered cheek. It was one of those gestures that made him loved by humble folk. The others looked at him in surprise, but he smiled and said:

  'In the days when Paris ran with blood, this was my refuge. Marie was like a mother to me, and Antoine could not have showed more devotion to a son.'

  When Marie had left the room, Talleyrand said, 'Doubt­less you have heard about the scene that took place at the Tuileries the day before yesterday?'

  Roger nodded. 'The little man has become impossible. I wonder that you did not strike him with your cane, and so be done with him once and for all.'

  Talleyrand shrugged. 'That evening I dined with the Coun­tess de Laval and I told her of it. She said I should have used the poker. I replied that I was too lazy. But that is not quite the truth. I submitted to his insults because I am determined not to break with him until I have broken him.'

  'I admire Your Highness' tenacity,' Fouche remarked, 'and between us we will yet save France from being totally des­troyed by him.' Then he gave a loud sniff. He suffered from a perpetual cold, and his face was as cadaverous as ever. His long, grey coat was ill fitting and his waistcoat stained with snuff.

  Continuing to address Roger, Talleyrand went on, 'We asked you to join us, cher ami, because much depends on our being informed of the true state of affairs in Spain and, having but recently returned, you should be able to tell us if there is more or less percentage of the usual lies in the bulletins issued by the Emperor. But first let us refresh ourselves.'

  Fouche helped himself to a meagre portion of boned chicken stuffed with sausage meat and truffles. Roger went for the Duck Montmorency, one breast of which had been removed and replaced with foie gras, and the whole decorated with red cherries. Their host chose the lobster patties crowned with oysters. There were Chateau Latour, Corton Clos du Roi, Montrachet and Anjou to hand to wash these good things down. It was only an alfresco supper, but typical of the table kept by the Prince de Benevento.

  While they ate, they talked of minor matters; then, putting his plate aside, Roger said, 'The Emperor would have the people believe that he has quelled the rebellion; and that, with Joseph re-established in Madrid, the whole trouble is over. But that is far from being the case. The insurgents still hold four-fifths of the country and the whole of Portugal. With British troops to stiffen them...'

  'No, no,' Fouche interrupted. 'The English have been driven out. Reports from my people have been coming in for some days. To begin with, they were vague, but today quite definite. General Sir Moore was too precipitate in his retreat. 'Tis said that he force-marched his men seventeen miles a day to escape the trap set for him. As a result he lost several thousand from exhaustion, on the way to the coast. The English fought more determined rearguard actions. In one, their Hussars cut the Chasseurs of the Imperial Guard to pieces. That enabled Gen­eral Sir Moore to get his main body to Corunna without it being defeated. But there he was forced to turn at bay. Again the English and Scottish fought with great bravery and the majority of them succeeded in getting away in their ships; but Sir Moore was killed during the battle.'

  This was sad news for Roger, as Sir John was considered to be Britain's finest General; but he could comfort himself with the thought that his timely warning had probably saved the army from complete annihilation. After a moment he said:

  'As soon as the Emperor learned of Moore's whereabouts and launched his greatly superior force against the British, it was clear that they would either suffer a disastrous defeat, or have to take to their ships. What I meant was that, with the Peninsular in its present state, you can count it certain that they will return. They would be mad to neglect such a God given opportunity to establish themselves at last on the Con­tinent. And they still hold Lisb
on.'

  'Yes, with some nine thousand troops. But for how long will such a comparatively small body of men succeed in main­taining themselves there?'

  'With luck, until they are reinforced by much greater num­bers.'

  'But that cannot happen for a month or more at least,' Talleyrand put in. 'Meanwhile, Ney's corps, and others, will be on their way to the Portuguese capital and should easily overwhelm so small a garrison.'

  ‘I disagree,' Roger replied. 'Sir John Moore's Number Two, General Baird, could sail down the coast in a matter of days, with the men taken off from Corunna and throw them into Lisbon. That is the obvious strategy. At a fair estimate it could raise the garrison to some twenty thousand men. And, should they hold the lines of Torres Vedras, Ney will find it no easy business to dislodge them.'

  'What of Spain?' Fouche asked, sniffling again. 'We have some two hundred thousand men there: Soult, Bessieres, Vic­tor and other well-tried Marshals. Surely within a few months they will prove capable of overcoming all resistance?'

  Roger shook his head. 'I do not think so. The Spaniards are gone mad, and their priests, regarding the French as athe­ists, are leading them into battle. Every peasant and towns­man in the country has armed himself with some weapon. At least a million of them are out to spill French blood. Two-thirds of the cities are still in their hands, many French gar­risons are now locked up in fortresses, half-starving; and there is hardly a road along which a convoy of supplies to relieve them can be sent without its being ambushed.'

  Talleyrand refilled their glasses, and said, 'Then you are convinced that this rebellion is no flash in the pan, and can­not soon be crushed, as Napoleon maintains it will be?'

  'I am. Had he remained in Spain to direct operations him­self, his genius is such that he might have succeeded in coping with this hydra-headed monster. But few of his Marshals have the ability to do so. Soult is a good General but not, I think, good enough. Davoust has the brains to deal with the situa­tion, and Massena probably; but they are both in Germany. Even were either of them given the task, in my opinion it would take at least a year to reduce these fanatical Spaniards to even partial submission.'