Dennis Wheatley - The wanton princess

From Talleyrand Roger heard the inside story. Demerville, being a braugart, had boasted of the plot to a penniless officer named Harel, who had been dismissed from the Army, and he had reported the matter to Bourrienne. On being informed of what was afoot, the First Consul had ordered that the attempt should be allowed to proceed while Fouche took precautions to protect him against it. In conse­quence, he had never been in any danger but made great capital out of the affair.

With lazy satisfaction Talleyrand then spoke of the success that had crowned his negotiations with Russia. Having detached Paul I from the Coalition the previous winter France had since been wooing him. The vain, feeble-minded Czar had taken a childish delight in having been elected Grand Prior of the Knights of Malta and had had a gorgeous uniform suitable to that dignitary made to strut about in. The British having captured Malta, he had expected them to hand it over to him and had taken great umbrage at their refusal. Bonaparte had then made him a present of the Knights' famous sword of Valetta, which had pleased him greatly. Declaring himself to be the friend of France, he had revived the League of Armed Neutrality, by which ships of the Northern Nations resisted attempts by the British Navy to search them for and confiscate, any contraband-of-war they might be carrying: and this interference with their profitable commerce had resulted in Denmark and Sweden declaring war on Britain.

As a result of the armistice after Marengo. French and Austrian plenipotentiaries had met at Luneville to discuss the possibilities of a permanent peace; but the Austrians had shilly-shalleyed for so long that Bonaparte had lost patience with them and, in November, declared his intention of resuming the war.

Brunc had succeeded Massena as Commander-in-Chief Italy. He had been joined by Macdonald, who had brought his army over the Splügen Pass—a feat much more remarkable than Bonaparte's crossing of the St. Bernard because the former had been accomplished so late in the year and in spite of vile weather. Brune had then crossed the Mincio in force, and the two Generals were now driving the Austrians before them up into the old Venetian lands. Meanwhile Moreau had shattered the other Austrian army by his great victory at Hohenlinden: so Talleyrand was in hopes that, soon now, the Austrians would at least see reason and throw in their hand. Murat, meanwhile, had been despatched south, had driven all before him. entered Naples and compelled King Ferdinand to accept a French garrison and sign a Convention closing his ports to British ships.

Roger's reception by Bonaparte proved not only disap­pointing but alarming. Later he put it down to the First Consul's being in an ill humour from having learned that for the past few days everyone in Paris had been saying that Moreau's victory at Hohenlinden was a much greater triumph than his at Marengo; as indeed it was, since Moreau had not first nearly lost the battle and he had inflicted more than double the number of casualties on the enemy.

It was in any case well known that Bonaparte, while a generous man in other ways, was always jealous of the suc­cess of other generals and mean in his praise of them. After Marengo he had claimed the credit for Desaix's splendid counter-attack and, instead of promoting young Kellermann for his well-judged action which had proved decisive, had merely remarked to him, 'You made a very good charge'.

Whatever the cause of his irritability on the morning that Roger reported to him, after briefly congratulating him on his recovery he said abruptly:

'Bourrienne no longer has a use for you. He has acquired a very able young man named Meneval as his assistant.'

'What then would you have me do, Consul?' asked Roger.

'I know not,' came the testy reply. 'If you can think of some way to serve me, come to me again.'

Roger bowed, turned and made for the door. He had nearly reached it when the harsh voice cried behind him, 'Stay! I am losing my wits. I'll forget my own name next. You travelled across India in the summer of '97, did you not?'

Actually, that after three and a half years he should have recalled such a fact about one of the hundreds of officers with whom he was in contact was a demonstration of his remarkable memory. Replying that he had, Roger turned about to find him perched on the edge of his desk swinging his legs and now all smiles.

'Then, Breuc, you are the very man I'm looking for,' he said quickly. 'It is probable that you can inform me on many matters about which I am anxious to know.'

Slipping off his desk he crossed the room to a cabinet of maps, pulled one out, opened it, spread it on the floor, lay down at full length facing it and signed to Roger to join him. Having made Roger trace his journey right across the sub­continent from Calcutta to Bombay, during the next half hour he shot a hundred questions at him about the cities through which he had passed, the personalities of their rulers, the religions of the people, their like or dislike of the British, the climate, the navigability of the rivers and a score of other matters.

At length he got to his feet, playfully pulled Roger's car and said:

'Breuc, your arrival is most opportune. I am preparing an expedition to wrest India from the English. You shall go with it as A.D.C.-in-Chicf to the Commander. You will be invaluable to him. Report to Berthier, tell him I have nominated you for that post and that I wish you to work with him on the preparations for this project.'

The appointment meant promotion, so Roger hurriedly stammered his thanks, then left the room filled with dismay. With the possible exception of Egypt, India was the last place in the world that he wanted to go to again; but it would have been useless, even dangerous, to say so.

At Berthier's headquarters, he found the ill-made little Chief-of-Staff clad in one of the spectacular uniforms that he and Murat were so fond of designing for themselves; but where the tall cavalryman had the figure and panache to carry them off, they made this human filing cabinet only look ridiculous.

Having said that Roger's assistance would be welcome, Berthier informed him that General Menou had succeeded Klebcr as C.-in-C. Egypt, and that before going on to India the new expedition would reinforce and secure his position there. He then spoke of Kleber's assassination. It had occurred on a spot that they had both known well—the terrace of a Palace that Bonaparte had occupied while in Cairo. Adjacent to the terrace there was an old empty cistern which could be entered from the garden. The assassin, a young fanatic named Soleiman Haleby, had concealed him­self in the cistern and. when Kleber had come out to stroll on the terrace, scrambled out of the cistern and stabbed him with a dagger. Bonaparte, when occupying the Palace, had often taken his exercise on the terrace in the evenings, and had been warned of the danger of leaving the cistern unguarded, but had ignored it. They now agreed that it was fortunate for France that it was not he who had fallen a victim to the Mohammedan's dagger.

The following morning Roger started work with a group of officers who were planning the expedition to India. In his free time, he looked up a number of friends and paid his duly calls.

The First Consul had offered his mother a suite of apartments in the Tuilleries, but she had refused it and was living with her eldest son Joseph and his sweet wife Julie, at their splendid mansion in the Rue du Rochcr.

Although Madame Letizia was as yet only fifty years old, the hardships through which she had passed, her great strength of character and the uprightness of her disposition combined to give her the prestige of a far more venerable woman. Having questioned Roger closely about his wound, knowing him to be intimate with her most brilliant son, she spoke to him openly of her distress that Napoleon should have quarrelled with Lucien.