Evil in a Mask (62 page)

Lisala was most loath to leave Vienna after no more than having been driven round it. She was w ell aware that, through the French Embassy, Roger could have obtained numerous introductions which would have led to a fortnight or more of gaiety in the Austrian capital. But Roger proved adamant, because the long detour to Vienna had already caused him to overstay the leave Napoleon had given him. So, on the 4th November, they left for Paris, arriving there on the 13th.

As members of the Court, they went straight to the Palace

of St. Cloud. Roger learned that Napoleon had left for Spain on October 29th; so he enquired for his old friend, Duroc, Duc de Fruili, Grand Marshal of the Palace.

Duroc was, for his time, an unusually puritanical man. He had great integrity, and was utterly devoted to his Emperor. Having served with him in Egypt and other places, Roger knew him well and had a considerable admiration for him. Duroc at once assigned to Roger suitable accommodation in the Palace for himself and his wife. Then he said, ‘Among the instructions the Emperor left with me was one that, immediately you arrived you should follow him to Spain.'

Roger smiled. ‘In this case, I must regard “immediate” as a somewhat elastic term; since I need a few days in Paris to arrange my affairs.' Actually he was in two minds whether to go to Spain or rid himself of Lisala by breaking for good with Napoleon and making his way to England.

‘
Bien, mon ami
,' Duroc replied. ‘But attend to them speedily, or you will find yourself in trouble.'

Owing to the unsettled state of Spain, Napoleon had not taken Josephine with him; so Lisala at once resumed duty as one of the Empress' ladies. Next day Roger rode into Paris. At
La Belle Étoile
, his old friends, the Blanchards, greeted him with open arms.

He had known the good Norman couple since he had first come to Paris when still in his teens. He had lodged with them while an impecunious young gallant, but one received by Marie Antoinette at Versailles; they had sheltered him while he lived disguised as a
sans culottes
during the darkest days of the Terror; they had seen him rise to become the friend of Napoleon and
le brave Breuc
of the
Grande Armêe
. They still kept for him in their attic a chest containing clothes of several kinds, into which he could change in an emergency; but they had never enquired into his business, because they loved and trusted him.

On his enquiring for Josefa, they directed him to an upstairs room, where he found her and the baby, both in excellent health.

Although Josefa had been Lisala's nurse, she was not over fifty,
having only the appearance of being older which is common among women who, during their early years, have lived the hard life of peasants. Assuming that she was capable of fending for herself and looking after the child, Roger suggested that he should rent for her a cottage outside Paris, until arrangements could be made for her to return to Portugal. She readily agreed to that, saying she would much prefer it to continuing to live in the city.

Later, as he had so often done in the past, Roger enjoyed an excellent dinner with the Blanchards in their private parlour, listening to all the gossip of the Faubourgs. Madame had cooked for him one of his favourite omelettes, followed by a duck, Normandy style, and they washed it down with one of the best bottles of Burgundy from the Maître's cellar, finishing up with old Calvados.

Over the meal Roger asked them to find a cottage for Josefa, and said that he would make arrangements for money to be sent them every month for the rent and her keep. They promised to do so, and said they would keep a friendly eye on her.

Well dined and wined, he set off back to St. Cloud. As he rode along at an easy pace, he wondered if this was the last time he would have enjoyed the company of those loyal, unpretentious friends. More and more he inclined to the idea of cutting loose from Lisala, even though the price must be retirement from participation in great events. He had only to pretend to leave for Spain, taking with him civilian clothes, change into them by night, then ride to the coast. A few discreet enquiries and, for a handful of gold, some smuggler would put him across to England. It could be a month or more before anybody even wondered where he had gone.

He was still debating the matter with himself when he reached the Palace. Up in their suite, Lisala was reclining on a
chaise longue
, reading. As she laid her book down, he noticed the title. It was
La Philosophe dans le Boudoir
, by the Marquis de Sade. Looking up, she said:

‘I have a message for you. The Empress desires you to wait upon her.'

Having spent a few minutes tidying himself, Roger went
down to the Imperial apartments. One of Josephine's ladies announced him at once. The Empress received him with her usual graciousness, dismissed the woman and, when they were alone, went to a bureau, from which she took a heavily-sealed letter. Turning to Roger, she said:

‘Chevalier, this is for the Emperor. It deals with matters which could be highly dangerous to me were it to fall into wrong hands, so I am afraid to trust it to an ordinary courier. But I am told that you are leaving for Spain almost immediately. Would you do me the kindness to deliver it personally into the Emperor's own hand?'

Roger bowed, wondering how he could possibly excuse himself. But an immediate reply had to be made and he saw no alternative to making that which was expected of him. ‘With pleasure, Your Majesty. I am as ever entirely at your disposal.'

When he had taken the letter, they talked for a few minutes, then he returned to his apartment.

Josephine was an old and dear friend. Simply to disappear with the letter, which was clearly of great importance to her, or to pass it on to someone else who might lose or tamper with it, was unthinkable. Next morning, with great reluctance, he set out for Spain.

Now that the die was cast and Roger fated to rejoin the Emperor, as he had overstayed his leave he rode all out, requisitioning fresh horses at every garrison town through which he passed. Six long days of hard riding enabled him to arrive at Grand Headquarters on November 21st. He excused his tardiness in reporting by saying he had been laid up for a week with fish-poisoning. Napoleon was in a good mood, spoke to him kindly, thanked him for having brought Josephine's letter, then sent him to Berthier to be given particulars of the situation.

Immediately after Napoleon had left Madrid, on August 1st, such serious revolts had broken out that King Joseph had fled from his capital and, covered by Marshal Moncey's corps, sought safety across the Ebro. Bessières, who was holding the road through Burgos, inflicted a defeat on the insurgents; but that same month Wellesley had defeated Junot, and occupied Lisbon. The Convention of Cintra, by which Junot and his twenty-five thousand troops had been evacuated back to France
and
allowed to take all their loot with them, had so outraged the Government and people of Britain that all three Generals: Wellesley, Burrard and Dalrymple, had been recalled and court-martialled. General Sir John Moore had succeeded to the Command and another, smaller, British force, under General Baird, was said to have landed at Corunna; but the whereabouts of these two armies were at present unknown.

Meanwhile the French had been in serious straits, holding only a triangle based on the Pyrenees, pointing in the direction of Madrid. Several of the garrisons outside the triangle were isolated. General Ducherme, commanding in Catalonia, was cut off and boxed up in the fortress of Barcelona. In Saragossa,
led by the patriot leader, Palafox, the insurgents had inflicted heavy losses on General Verdier's troops by many days of terrible house-to-house fighting: a form of warfare to which the French were not accustomed.

The French were at a further disadvantage in that the majority of Bessières' and Moncey's men were Swiss or German levies, with little heart in the battle, and such French troops as they had were largely raw conscripts. In the autumn a well-concerted effort by the Spaniards, now stiffened by the nine thousand regular soldiers whom the Marquis La Romana had brought back from Hanover, could have driven the French back across the Pyrenees. But their failure to press on to victory was due to disunity. The ‘Central Junta' of thirty-five delegates which had been formed, wasted its time debating the terms of a new Constitution for Spain, and could not even be brought to appoint a Commander-in-Chief for the whole of the Spanish forces. The result was that half-a-dozen Generals, appointed by their own local Juntas, could not agree a common strategy, refused out of jealousy to support one another, and quarrelled bitterly among themselves about the division of money and arms that were being sent to them from Britain.

Although still refusing to regard the Spanish rebellion as a serious threat to his suzerainty of Europe, Napoleon had determined to crush it once and for all; so he had ordered south from Germany the hard-bitten corps of Soult, Ney, Mortier, Lannes, Victor and Lefebvre with his usual ability in directing great armies, the Emperor had waited until this force of two hundred thousand veterans had concentrated in Navarre. Divided counsels had led the Spaniards to dispose the majority of their troops on the two flanks of the French-held triangle, leaving their centre weak. Napoleon had sent orders launching his massed legions on October 29th against this weak spot, smashed through, then directed his Marshals against the numerous Spanish forces to east and west, overwhelming them one by one.

Roger arrived at Headquarters while this devastating tide of victory was in full spate. Within ten days, organised Spanish resistance to the French advance had been quelled and Napoleon
was approaching Madrid. The city had no walls; but, in a frenzy of hatred, the population endeavoured to defend it by throwing up barricades. Their resistance lasted only a day. On December 3rd, the Emperor had again installed himself in the Royal Palace.

While resting his troops for a fortnight, Napoleon planned the subjugation of the remainder of Spain. Lannes had already been ordered to besiege Saragossa and put an end to Palafox. Soult was directed to invade Léon. The next move would be to march on Lisbon, where Sir John Moore's army was assumed to be.

Then, on the morning of the 19th, intelligence came in that Moore was not there at all. He was much further north, had entered Spain and was advancing on Valladolid. Soult was in that neighbourhood, but had only twenty thousand men. The numbers of the British force were unknown, but might be considerably greater and, if Moore defeated Soult, Napoleon's communications with France would be cut.

The Emperor immediately dictated a despatch to Soult, warning him of his danger and ordering him to stand on the defensive until he, Napoleon, could bring up from the neighbourhood of Madrid the main French army, by-pass Moore and cut off his retreat into Portugal. They would then crush the British between them.

This magnificent chauce to destroy an entire British army filled the Emperor with elation. No sooner had the despatch been sealed than he gave it to Roger, as the A.D.C. on duty, and told him to ride hell-for-leather with it to Soult.

Roger's mind had been made up instantly. He could not possibly stand by while thousands of his countrymen were killed or captured. Even if it cost him his own life he must warn Moore of the trap into which he was walking. As a precaution against emergencies, he always travelled with a small valise containing civilian clothes. Collecting it from his room, and wrapping himself in his fur cloak against the bitter cold, he ran down to the stables. Normally, he would have been accompanied by his orderly; but he told the officer-in-charge
of the stable that his business was too urgent for him to wait for the man to be found.

Taking the road to Valladolid, he covered the one hundred miles to the road junction at Tondesillas, twenty miles southwest of the city, in eleven hours, arriving there a little after ten o'clock that evening. As was the case with all the towns and villages on the road north, it was guarded by a French detachment. Snow was falling, and in the Officers' Mess he found the inmates huddled round a glowing fire. After snatching a hasty meal and changing his horse for the fourth time, he again took the road; but, instead of taking that to Valladolid, he proceeded due west, along the road leading to Zamora and the Portuguese frontier.

A mile outside the town he dismounted, changed, shivering, into civilian clothes behind a haystack, and stuffed his uniform into the valise. The moon had now risen and gave him enuugh light to see some distance ahead. After riding another twelve miles he saw, upon a slight rise, an encampment of bivouacs. A hundred yards further on, he was challenged by a sentry.

He asked to be taken at once to the man's officer. As it was now well on in the night, the sentry at first demurred; but Roger's air of authoricy overcame his scruples. The troops proved to be a vedette of Hussars, commanded by a Captain. Roger told him that he had intelligence of the first importance for Sir John Moore, and requested a guide to his Headquarters. As he had no credentials he could show, the Captain thought it possible that he might be a spy and said he would send him on only if he agreed to be blindfolded. Roger readily consented. Then he said:

‘I have ridden close on a hundred and twenty miles today, and am near exhausted. Could you, perchance, send me on in a trap or some other conveyance? But it must be fast-moving, as every moment is precious.'

Roger's state of fatigue was obvious, so the Captain said he could go in the mess can and, while a good horse was harnessed to it, made him take a long drink from a flask of port wine.

Ten minutes later, Roger was again on his way, now blindfolded, but lying on a straw-filled palliasse, and covered with a pile of blankets against the intense cold of the winter night. In spite of the jolting, he soon fell asleep. For how long he slept he did not know; but, to his great relief when the driver woke him, he saw that it was still dark; so there was a chance that he might reach Valladolid without too great a delay to explain away when he delivered his despatch to Soult.