Armand Cabasson - Wolf Hunt

Saber was absolutely furious.

‘Unbelievable! Unbelievable! I’m still a lieutenant - not even promoted to captain! Not even that! The Austrians were obliterating our rear, our army was lost! Who was it who retook Essling? It was thanks to me! I led my company—’ ‘My company!’ corrected Margont.

‘I led our company in the charge that saved us all and will become legendary. I broke into Essling, and Klenau’s corps crumpled like an over-extended rope when someone lets go of one end. And how am I rewarded?’

‘More than thirty companies poured into Essling and its retrenchments ...’

Saber held up a finger to correct what he considered to be an important misrepresentation.

‘Ours was the first to get all the way through the village, all the others did was follow me in.’

Margont started to lose his temper. ‘You couldn’t see anything in all that smoke, so how can you say that?’

‘Only those following behind were blinded by the smoke. It was the smoke from our company firing at the front! Since our colonel refuses to make me a major, I’ll have to apply to his superior. To the general of the division. No, he would never go against the recommendations of one of his colonels. Has the Emperor been informed of my feat of arms? I demand to see the Emperor!’

After each confrontation, it was important to replace all the officers seriously wounded or killed in action as quickly as possible, so that the army could continue to function. It was traditional that heroics on the battlefield were rewarded by promotion, sometimes allowing soldiers to skip several ranks in one go. Saber would become more and more wound up as it became known that such and such had skipped captain, and so and so had skipped major

Margont caught sight of Relmyer, who was trotting over to feed his horse. He waved to the hussar, who bowed in his direction. Relmyer wore a strange expression. Pagin had died right in front of him, as had his colonel, Laborde, and many other hussars of the 8th. General Lasalle had also been killed. Relmyer could not yet admit to himself that all these men were no longer there. He was riding about, a broken man, surrounded by ghosts.

'I'm delighted to see you have survived,’ he told Margont and Le-fine. ‘Let’s go immediately and see Luise to put her mind at rest. We can see how far she’s got with her researches.'

He was already becoming obsessed again with the investigation ... ‘Fernand and I can only get away for the day.' replied Margont. ‘Tomorrow our regiment will definitely be taking part in the pursuit.'

Relmyer nodded silently. Margont left his company in Piquebois’s hands. As for Saber, he was engaged in writing his letter, failing to get past the first line, because it was rather daunting to be writing to the Emperor ... Without him fully realising it, his letter was acting as a screen, preventing him from seeing the broken flesh all around him.

Relmyer, Margont and Lefine went off, passing lost Saxons, streams of wagons heaped up with the wounded, white lines of prisoners and repentant deserters discreetly trying to rejoin their battalions ... All around lay corpses and the remains of horses, picked over by crows.

CHAPTER 33

THE Viennese were in mourning for Austrian hopes and asking each other what would happen now to the campaign. They questioned the French and their prisoners to try to hear news of loved ones serving in the Archduke’s army.

As they went into the Mitterburgs’ house, Margont, Lefine and Relmyer passed medical orderlies of the Army Medical Service. Luise had been giving them sheets to make lint, and bottles of brandy. The war was an abyss that everyone tried to fill in his or her own way. Luise stared at the three of them, motionless, incredulous. Margont had eyes only for her. Luise looked at him but Relmyer hurried to question her.

‘Did anyone recognise the man in the portrait?’

‘No ...’

Luise was stupefied. After all that they had been through in the last few hours, was that all the greeting she was entitled to? Relmyer was once again a victim of his demons. Not noticing anything, he continued in the same tone.

‘Were you able to find out anything about Teyhern?’

This time she went along with it. She led them into the salon. Her face was deathly pale. During the two days of battle she had not been able to stop herself imagining Relmyer and Margont dead, the one run through in a tangle of hussars, the other riddled with bullets. She had determinedly imagined the worst, as if to get used to it in preparation. She could not therefore quite believe that they were really there, and had difficulty in rejoicing fully at their return. There were several sheets of paper on one of the tables. Some were the rough drafts that Luise had scribbled of accounts given by the servants charged with finding information. Others were more legible. Luise had cut out parts of the information and organised them logically. She had drawn up Teyhern’s family tree and grouped his friends and acquaintances together in a diagram. She had worked hard and gathered many names, but on all the sheets there were question marks. Each of the lists was incomplete, there was no information at all on some people ... It was like looking at a building under construction. Relmyer wanted to read all the papers at the same time, holding them like a fan in each hand.

‘Who do you suspect the most?’

Luise took one of the papers; it was a pretext to touch Relmyer’s hand.

‘I don’t know, Lukas

Some names were scored through, but most were still possibilities or unknowns.

‘“Acquaintance”, “cousin”, “distant relative”, “uncle”, “colleague” ...’ said Relmyer in irritation, shuffling the documents clumsily. ‘Let’s begin at the beginning,’ suggested Margont. ‘Let’s concentrate on Teyhern’s life.’

Luise ordered the papers.

‘He comes from a modest family, born in Vienna in 1773. He’s always lived here or round about. His father worked for the state, for the Ministry of Finance. He was an accountant, but I don’t know much else about him. Teyhern had three brothers, Gregor, Florian and Bernhard.’

Relmyer could not keep still. He burnt with impatience. He was reading Luise’s notes, anticipating what she was going to say.

‘We don’t know anything more about them? This one, the oldest, Gregor, serves in the Austrian army. The regular army? The Landwehr? The volunteer force?’

‘I don’t know ...’

All his brothers are suspects! But you’ve found out almost nothing about them! The other two aren’t in Vienna any more, but where did they go? And his cousins! He has eight of them altogether ... or perhaps he has more and you’ve forgotten!’

Relmyer was exhausting himself running round the labyrinth of the lists of names and the arrows linking them to indicate the nature of their relationship to Hermann Teyhern.

‘Let’s stick to Teyhern,’ insisted Margont.

Luise’s fingers were trembling. ‘He never married,’ she went on. ‘Like his father, he worked for several years as an accountant for the Ministry of Finance. He had a lowly position and in 1801 was involved in a serious incident. Teyhern was accused of falsifying some accounts and embezzling money, quite large sums, the equivalent to fifty thousand of your francs.'

‘Fifty thousand francs? Fifty thousand francs?’ exclaimed Lefine, dazzled by such a sum.

‘Exactly. There was even a trial. But Teyhern was found not guilty. He nevertheless wanted to change jobs and he went to the Ministry of War.’

‘Not guilty?’ Margont was astonished. ‘Even we know that he was not exactly the most honest man ... Besides, he owns a superb house in Leiten. And his furniture? Marquetry chests of drawers, Louis XV armchairs ... Not to mention the porcelain, Turkish carpets ... Yet ministry employees aren’t well paid. Look at Konrad Sowsky: he was doing the same job as Teyhern but his way of life was nothing like as lavish. And from what you’ve told us, Luise, Teyhern did not come from a rich family.’