Evil in a Mask (14 page)

Michel Duroc received Roger with open arms, listened with sympathy to his account of his misfortunes during the past two months, then brought him up to date with the situation of the French Army.

Eylau had proved an even greater disaster than Roger had supposed. Augereau's corps, losing direction in the blizzard and infiladed by the Russian guns, had been so torn to pieces that it had had to be disbanded and its survivors drafted to other units. Napoleon habitually understated the French casualties in the bulletins that he issued after every major battle. On this occasion he had stated them to be one thousand nine hundred killed and five thousand seven hundred wounded; but the fact was that the effectives had been reduced by nearly thirty thousand men, and the forty-five thousand remaining were in dire straits.

Meat was almost unprocurable and they were barely existing on a meagre ration of biscuits and root crops. Their uniforms were in rags, scores of them froze to death every
night and, the front being fluid, they lived in constant fear of raids by the fierce Cossacks, since their own cavalry was incapable of protecting them, because their horses had been so weakened by semi-starvation that they could no longer be spurred into a gallop.

Amazed, Roger exclaimed, ‘But it is totally unlike the Emperor to allow his army to fall into such a parlous state. Has he done nothing in these past two months to rectify matters?'

Duroc shrugged. ‘After Eylau, he sent a plenitpotentiary to Frederick William of Prussia, offering to restore a part of his territories and forgo his earlier demand that Prussia should become his ally against Russia. But the Czar succeeded in browbeating that miserable, irresolute monarch into refusing our overtures.

‘Berthier or, as I suppose we should now call him,
Maréchal le Prince de Neuchâtel
, has since been working like a demon, calling up reserves from Poland, Bavaria, Saxony, the Rhine and has even blackmailed the Spaniards into sending a corps to retain Hanover for us, so that its French garrison can be brought up here. A new levy of eighty thousand men, or rather boys, has been ordered in France. It is the third within the past year and made eighteen months before these youngsters were due to be called up. Mortier, I mean the Duke of Treviso—I shall never get used to these new names—was recalled from keeping watch on the Swedish Army that is occupying Stralsund. A week ago, it took the offensive; so he is now marching his corps back to check its advance. Meanwhile Austria is again becoming restless and, should she join our enemies, could cut our communications with France.'

‘What a picture,' said Roger, making a gloomy face. ‘And what of England? I take it she has not been altogether idle during this propitious time to make a telling thrust at her implacable enemy?'

Duroc laughed, ‘On the contrary, for the first time in years she has ceased to show her aggressive spirit. Our intelligence informed us that it was proposed to send an expeditionary force to support the Swedes in Stralsund. But she could muster no more than twelve thousand men, so thought it beneath
her dignity to make such an insignificant contribution to the war against us on the Continent. It is said that the Czar is disgusted with her as an ally who will neither send him military aid, nor even a substantial subsidy to help pay his own troops. All England's present ineffectual Government have so far done this year is to send a fleet that forced the Dardanelles in February and appeared off Constantinople. Its object was to coerce the Sultan Selim into giving way in his dispute with Russia, so that the Czar would be in a position to withdraw many of his divisions from the Danube for use as reinforcements against us up here; and to dismiss our Ambassador, General Sebastiani. But Sebastiani has Selim so effectually under his thumb and the people of Constantinople were so enraged by the insolent demands of the English that, in a single day, they dragged a thousand cannon up to the Bosphorus, did the enemy fleet much damage and forced it to retire with ignominy.'

With a frown, Roger changed the subject. ‘All you tell me of the situation here seems quite extraordinary. Berthier's ability to bring up reinforcements by roads on which they will not converge and become congested is known to us all. But what of the Emperor? Has he not used that great brain of his to devise some policy that would cause dissension among our enemies, so that they no longer have a concerted strategy and we could defeat them piecemeal?'

‘
Mon ami
, it is quite a time since you have been with us at headquarters. Believe it or not, Napoleon has ceased to be interested in waging war. With him here he has the Countess Maria Walewska. Admittedly, she is a charming young creature: dignified, modest, unambitious. Having now been repudiated by her old husband, she has accepted our master wholeheartedly, and he has become a changed man. The years have dropped from him, and his is like a youth in his teens; positively besotted by her. For weeks past they have been enjoying a honeymoon. For days at a time he never emerges from their suite, and refuses all pleas to discuss business. For ten days or more I have had here missions from both the Grand Turk and the Great Sophy. Only once has he consented
to receive these Turkish and Persian emissaries. Yet both could prove invaluable allies in harassing the Czar. Naturally, they have become resentful and contumacious; but there is nothing I can do about it.'

Roger expressed his sympathy, while inwardly much pleased that it looked as though, at last, England's archenemy was losing his grip and might, in a few weeks' time, be so thoroughly defeated by the Russians and Prussians that his gimcrack Empire would fall to pieces and Europe be restored to its pre-revolutionary state.

Having asked Duroc to request an audience with the Emperor for him as soon as possible, they adjourned to the senior officers' Mess. There Roger was greeted with delight by many of his old comrades; but several of them were missing, and he learned to his distress that they had died at Eylau.

For three days Roger waited without receiving any summons from his master, and he became more and more impatient at the delay, because he had long been cherishing a means of getting out of Poland as soon as his exchange had been effected.

For a long time past, he had owned a small château near St. Maxime, in the South of France and, on the excuse of a weak chest, aggravated by a bullet through his lung at Marengo, he had usually obtained long leave to winter there; which gave him an opportunity to slip over to England and report very fully to Mr. Pitt all that was going on in France.

But this year he had been caught out. After returning to France in the previous May, he had thoroughly enjoyed his summer in Paris, and it was not his custom to apply for winter leave until December; so he had naturally accompanied the Emperor when, in September, he had left Paris to open his campaign against Prussia. After the double victory of Jena-Auerstädt, he had welcomed—being a born lover of travel and never having been to either Berlin or Warsaw—the chance of spending a few weeks in both those cities; so, when December had come, as he was no longer in the service of the British Government and, anyway, had nothing to report that could be of help to his now moribund country, instead
of asking for leave he had lingered on at the Emperor's headquarters. Napoleon's taking the field again in January, much earlier than anyone had expected, had put Roger in an awkward position. To have applied then to spend the remainder of the winter months in the sunshine of the South of France would be regarded as an act of cowardice by many of his comrades, who were unaware of his skilfully-established disability. In consequence, he had participated in the campaign which had ended for him at Eylau.

However, as the thaw had only just set in and several weeks of cold, foul weather were still to be expected, he had made up his mind that, immediately he saw Napoleon, he would ask for two months' leave, in order to escape the miserable conditions that must continue to afflict the Army for some time to come. Instead, he would travel from Poland as swiftly as he could to the shores of the Mediterranean, where no one even thought of war, except to celebrate the Emperor's victories with splendid dinners and lashings of champagne. There, as a rich and distinguished officer, he would lead a life of leisure, spiced with gay parties, in the company of elegant men, and pretty women who were not over-scrupulous about their morals.

No scruples about failing to serve Alexander troubled him. His code had always been ‘all's fair in love and war', and he had considered himself fully justified in misleading the Czar in order to obtain his freedom.

On the morning of his fourth day at Finckenstein, he was walking along a corridor when he suddenly saw the Emperor approaching.

Napoleon's face lit up, and he exclaimed, ‘
Ah! mon brave Breuc
! I feared you dead. When they told me you had fallen prisoner to these devilish Russians and could be exchanged, I was truly delighted. And at this juncture you are more than welcome here. The Turks and the Persians have both sent missions to me. This has led to my conceiving a plan by which I can stab that young fool Alexander in the back. So I am sending General Gardane on a mission, first to the Great Turk, then to the Shah. It will consist of a number of officers. But I need
one personally attached to me, who will privately keep me informed how well or ill the mission is progressing.'

Suddenly, Napoleon lifted a hand, seized the lobe of Roger's left ear and tweaked it. ‘You, Breuc, with your knowledge of the East, are the very man for this. Procure for yourself everything you may require, at my expense, and be prepared to set off for Constantinople.'

Roger made a grimace of pain, for the way in which Napoleon tweaked people's ears, although always a gesture of approbation, was far from gentle.

At the same moment he took in the disastrous effect that this idea of the Emperor's could have on his own plans. No carefree, lazy days in the sunshine of the Riviera; no bathing in the warm sea from a sandy beach; no pleasant expeditions into Nice and St. Tropez, where he might make the acquaintance of some charming lady who would become his mistress and add rapture to his days and nights. Instead, an interminable journey over bad roads, staying overnight at pestiferous inns, down through the semi-barbarous Balkans to countries in which all desirable women were kept under guard in harems, and the food would probably prove disgusting. Somehow or other, he must dissuade the Emperor from sending him on this mission, which threatened to ruin the daydreams with which he had been entertaining himself for the past few weeks.

As soon as he had recovered, he said, ‘Sire, I have been extraordinarily lucky in that, with the chest trouble by which you know I am afflicted, I escaped pneumonia and death while a prisoner of the Russians; but I suffered severely at their hands, as you can see from my gaunt appearance. I was about to ask you for two months' leave, so that I might recuperate in the South of France.'

Napoleon shrugged. ‘But, my dear Breuc, this mission on which I am about to send you will serve that purpose equally well. You will recall that, in the winter of '99, at your own suggestion, instead of going to your château at St. Maxime
you went as my confidential representative to the Caribbean, to report on the validity of the excuses made by my miserable Admirals for their lack of success against the English. This mission to Turkey and Persia is of a similar nature. It will take you from the cold and mists of this ghastly country to warm lands where there is the sunshine you need.'

Actually, it had been for Roger's own personal, urgent reasons that, at that time, he had agreed to go out to the West Indies. But he could not admit that; so, hastily, he ventured on another tack. ‘Sire, I fear that I should be of little use as a member of such a party. I have never been to Turkey or Persia, and speak the language of neither country.'

Impatiently, the Emperor waved aside his objection. ‘That is of no importance. Well-qualified interpreters will be at your disposal, and ample funds to bribe those who act between Gardane and the Pasha and such people, to inform you of their conversations; so that you can report to me whether our mission is really making progress or if the despatches I receive are designed to keep me in a good temper.'

Roger did not at all like this proposal that he should act as a spy on his brother officers. His report on the efficiency of the French Navy in the West Indies had been quite a different matter and one in which, by misleading Napoleon, he had been able to aid his own country. But, knowing his master's lack of scruples, he made no protest about his own. Instead, he said:

‘I greatly doubt whether I would prove a sound judge of such negotiations; for I know nothing of the politics of these countries or the manner in which their leading men are accustomed to transact business.'

Napoleon immediately overrode these objections. ‘You will be passing through Warsaw. Talleyrand is there, and he will be able to tell you all about the aspirations of the Turks and Persians. As for their statesmen's manner of doing business, the East is the East and you are better acquainted with the ways of Orientals than any other man on my personal staff.'

Again Roger was caught out. He owed his appointment as an
aide-de-camp
to the fact that he had travelled extensively
in India and home by way of the Red Sea and Egypt. Napoleon had always been fascinated by the East, and it had so happened that after his first triumphant campaign in Italy, Roger, having just returned from India, had again been brought to his notice. Bonaparte, already visualising himself as Sultan of the Nile and another Alexander the Great, had spent several evenings listening enthralled to Roger's accounts of his journey. Then, realising that he had many valuable qualities, the General had made him a permanent member of his staff.

In desperation, Roger declared, ‘Sire, you cannot lump all the countries of the East together as though they were inhabited by one people. In India alone, there are more different races, languages and religions than there are in Europe; and none of them has the faintest resemblance to the Persians, or the Turks.'