H.J. Gaudreau - Betrayal in the Louvre (5 page)

General Luckner watched with a small bit of satisfaction as his men dispatched the rabble.  Unfortunately, he was now presented with a problem.  A coach shot full of holes and only a partial team would not pass unobserved through the village in front of them.  And, there was the time issue associated with unhitching a dead horse.  If ever there was a need to hurry it was now.  He would have to carry all the royal trappings and his two guests with the limited number of horses and men available.

Luckner directed the men to remove La Joyeuse and his knapsack from the coach and bring the items to the barn.  Turning to Colonel DeAubry he placed him in charge of the artifacts.  He then directed the Duchesse aboard the Adjutant’s horse, selected another and readied himself for a painful ride the remaining few miles to Sedan.  Before mounting the horse the General glanced at Colonel DeAubry who had begun assigning baggage to each of the men, seeing to the wounded, gathering horses and readying for the short ride remaining.  This Colonel knew his business.

It was at that critical moment that fate turned against the General.  One of the Privates had chased a peculiarly large and burly fellow down on foot.  The man had struggled mightily and taken several slashes of the sword, the final blow being to the neck, severing the external carotid artery and causing blood to spurt forth.  In the process the Privates’ uniform had become soaked with the man’s blood.  Owing to the distance the man had run the Private had been slow to return.  He now entered the barn and rejoined the troop. 

There are two rules to remember when working with horses.  The first is that they are a herd animal.  A horse is not comfortable alone.  It wishes to be near other horses.  When one horse runs or panics the surrounding horses do as well, assuming the first had good reason.  It’s purely a survival instinct, present in the animal as a result of evolution.  The horse that stood to see why the first was running usually ended up as a meal to some predator. 

The second rule goes hand in hand with the first.  The horse is a prey animal.  Evolution has taught them to be wary.  They are extremely alert to any new object or smell in their customary environment.  Men have understood these equine idiosyncrasies for thousands of years.  Hence, horses are trained to accept different stimuli.  Draft horses pulling a carriage are typically trained to be very stoical; children, loud noises, traffic, the hustle and bustle of a street do not disturb them.  However, put a snake at their feet and panic ensues.  Plow horses on the other hand simply step on the snake and go about their business but do not like the chaos of a village street.  Similarly, cavalry horses accept the smell of blood as another part of the environment; most horses however, do not.  Colonel DeAubry’s commandeered horse, coming as it did from a Priest, was one who did not.  The horse smelled the blood soaked jacket of the victorious Private, reared on his hind legs in a panic and backed into the horse behind him.  That horse, not knowing what the problem was, but sensing the panic in the first, followed suit.  Both horses threw their riders and escaped from the barn, running some fifty yards before stopping. 

General Lockner felt time slipping away.  He grabbed DeAubry’s arm.  “DeAubry, we do not have time for this,” he hissed.

“I’m sorry Mon General,”  DeAubry said.  What could he do?  The horses, as it were, were out of the barn.

“I will take six men, the Duchesse and the Dauphin and make for the fort as fast as possible.  We will try to catch up with the advance guard.  Once there we will be safe.  You gather your damn horses, and catch up as quickly as possible.” 

The Colonel did not like being separated and having so few men but he could not argue.  “Oui, Mon General,” was all he could say.  With that, the General painfully mounted his horse and the little group trotted across the bridge.

DeAubry and his four men slowly approached the skittish horses.  The horse’s nostrils flared; they snorted but they did not run.  The Adjutant, a bright man-child it turned out, had found a barrel of apples in the barn.  The horses couldn’t resist the fresh smell of apples and were soon under control, back to the barn and ready to leave.  It was at that moment the second wave of peasants found them.  They swept out of the woods, jumped the stream and filled the road.  Escape was impossible.  The five men made it back to the barn where they put up a heroic fight.  It did not matter; the peasants were not good shots but what they lacked in skill they made up for in volume.  Slowly the Colonel’s men died.  When it was over there was no sign of la Jeyeuse or the knapsack.

Chapter 7

Cheveuges, like its neighbors, and unknown to the King, and by extension to Lieutenant General Luckner, had become engulfed in politics.  The residents had formed their own Commune.  Their national Commune representative was more radical than most and he had advocated, and convinced most of the people of the village that ridding themselves of the King was the natural and appropriate thing to do.  His adventures in the American war for independence playing a large roll in those feelings. 

It did not take long for word to filter through the small village that something had happened just at its outskirts.  Gunfire that close could not go unnoticed.  No one knew the details but they did know that the King’s troops had killed several of their fellow citizens.  Wives and mothers were already mourning their unconfirmed losses.  Fathers and brothers were swearing revenge. 

Cheveuges was, in fact, a very small village.  Two roads paralleled each other to form the village.  They were connected in the center by a cross street to form the letter “H”.  General Luckner and his group had approached the town at the southeast corner, intending to leave the road, “cap” the H, rejoin the road and exit to the north.  They traveled at a steady trot, not being able to break into a cantor because of the Dutchesse and Dauphin were each doubled on a horse.  The Dauphin rode with the General and the Dutchesse with the Lieutenant.  As they completed crossing the top of the H they were forced to round a large brick building to regain the road.  There, they met a large crowd of angry women…and armed men. 

In Cheveuges, public notices were posted on the large notice board outside the tavern which faced the side road constituting the cross bar of the H.  On the board hung a Royal notice.  It was bordered in black and read:

Louis-Joseph

26th Dauphin of France

is Dead

4 June 1789

The King’s notice was only incorrect by three days.

Chapter 8

Jim didn’t normally like visiting downtown Detroit.  Not because of the bad reputation of the city; that was fading fast as the city rebounded from terrible economic times.  No, Jim’s problem was that he tended to get lost in Detroit.  He had lived in many different cities, and even different countries during his long Air Force career, but there was something about navigating in downtown Detroit that did him in.  Several trips to Lions games at Ford Field or Tigers games at Comerica Park had been highlighted with him somehow taking the Ambassador Bridge Street exit off Fisher Highway and, there not being any exits, finding himself trapped in line to cross the bridge into Canada.  A side trip that cost at least an hour and caused considerable swearing when its inevitability was discovered. 

But, this Friday he was happily accepting the challenge.  After dropping their beagle, Molly, at the vets they packed the Jeep Grand Cherokee and headed for the show.  Immediately upon entering I-94 east bound Eve stuck the GPS to the windshield between them.  Then, she pulled the written directions to the hotel, the restaurant and the convention center from her purse.  Eve was an experienced traveler and she knew her husband’s tendency to simply rely on his memory rather than a map to find places.  Tonight, she had two priorities; she was going to eat a nice dinner and she wasn’t going to Canada.  By six-thirty, both goals had been met.  They had eaten a very nice meal and, not visited Canada; though Eve had their passports in her purse just in case.  As an added bonus, they had checked in at the proper hotel.  

At seven o’clock they were departing the ticket window and walking up the ramp into Cobo Hall.  The term “Hall” being an understatement on the order of describing the Empire State Building as just another office building.  Cobo Hall, located on the precise spot where it is said Antoine de la Mothe Cadillac, a French colonist, first set foot in 1701 and claimed the area for France in the name of King Louis XIV, is a two million four hundred thousand square foot mega center.

The Detroit Antique Show, more formally known as “The Detroit Antique Show and Charity Auction”, is held each fall.  The show had developed and grown over the years.  Now, rather than a garage sale on steroids, it had become one of the premiere springtime outlets for top auction houses from around the country.  Detroit’s mixture of world-class accommodations and a devoted effort to populate the buying crowd with celebrities guaranteed excitement and valuable and unique auction items. 

The antiques show runs four days from nine in the morning to nine at night.  It begins on a Wednesday morning and ends on Sunday evening.  Saturday and Sunday evenings are what make the show unique.  On Saturday, an auction is held of items with an appraised value less than a thousand dollars.  That doesn’t mean that all items sell for less than a thousand dollars, many times the sales price is higher, sometimes significantly higher.  It always seems to be the case that someone simply must have an item, regardless of price and good judgment.  Or, a simple case of auction fever strikes some unfortunate novice.  Saturday caters to the people that get carried away.  Naturally, the show organizers do everything in their power to promote that particular malady. 

Sunday is when things really get interesting.  All the items have an appraised value greater than one thousand dollars; many items are appraised at several thousand.  The Detroit Mayor, sports stars, media stars and other celebrities are recruited with the lure of their name being associated with big dollars going to many of the cities charities.  These people are then encouraged to put their star power behind personal invitations to hundreds of high rollers from around the country.  A professional marketing firm selects these high-income individuals based upon an in-depth analysis of their buying patterns.  Detroit’s rich and famous, as well as personalities from around the country, are commonly seen bidding against each other for works of traditional Native American art, Americana, folk art and some of the strangest things ever seen at an auction.  It’s a spectacular event and raises hundreds of thousands of dollars for charities all over the metro area.

It wasn’t the auction that drew Jim.  The show had one other high value draw: expertise.  And that expertise was free for those who had something interesting enough to make it past the screeners.  The entire process had a sort of game show flavor.  The concept was fairly simple and logical.  Members of the public were encouraged to bring their antiques, have them appraised and, if the owner wished, place them in the Saturday or Sunday auction.  What the public was not told was that the initial screening of the antiques was done by antique shop hired help, interns, temporary hires and assistants of the name brand auction house appraisers.  These people were not novices.  They usually had considerable time in the world of antiquing, but they were not the experts.  It wasn’t meant to be condescending; it simply had to be that way.  There were vast numbers of antiques coming through the door.  And, the truth of the matter was, most people were simply bringing a slightly different version of Grandma’s broach.  There were hundreds of items to be appraised and only a few, true experts.

Jim and Eve showed their tickets at the door and then purchased a show program.  Handing Eve the program Jim said, “You can’t tell the…”  “Players without a program,” she finished the phrase.  She could predict his sayings and when he’d use them.  He grinned at her, kissed her lightly and they made their way to the Detroit Hall of the Cobo Convention center.  The room was huge: 200,000 square feet.  And, the false wall had been removed to join with the MaComb Hall, another 150,000 square feet.  They were stunned.  They had expected large, but not this large.  It would take an entire weekend just to get an idea of what was here.  It was hopeless trying to really see it all.

As they were getting their bearings Jim spotted a sign hanging from the ceiling.  The sign read “ANTIQUE REGISTRATION AND APPRAISAL”.  Pointing it out to Eve he said, “I guess it doesn’t get any simpler than that!” They immediately set course through the crowd toward the sign.  Red velvet ropes hung from golden stands forming an isle to the registration desk.  The line wasn’t very long, after all, it was well past 7 P.M.  Most show attendees were going home not coming in.  A tired, older woman, with blue gray hair asked if they had anything for appraisal.  Eve answered that they did and the woman handed her a form and a short golf course pencil.  The form asked for a description of the item, country of origin, estimated value and other details.  Jim, being a history buff, was annoyed that he had no idea what the odd tube was, but he assumed it came from Europe and had been used in the Great War by his Great grandfather.  He simply described the item as a tube with brass caps, age unknown, probably from Europe and used in World War I.  Beyond that he left the rest of the form blank. 

In short order a young man, wearing a blue blazer with nametag, a gaudy tie and old, scuffed brown shoes approached them.  He was holding their form. 

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Crenshaw.  I’m John Taylor and I’m your appraiser for tonight.” 

Jim was slightly taken aback.  John Taylor didn’t appear to shave.  “May I see the tube you’ve described please?”  Jim handed him the tube and watched Taylor’s face.  Taylor was not a poker player.  His surprise and confusion was immediate. 

“Well sir, I’m not sure what this is.  I think this may be made of ivory and I think, well, I’m not sure but this doesn’t look like brass on the ends.  It’s these markings on the side that I cannot make out.  It may be Cambodian.”  Jim glanced at Eve; she could tell Jim didn’t agree but was keeping quiet.  “I think we’d better ask Mr. Ito.”  With that last sentence Jim had achieved his goal of having a professional appraisal done of his great grandfather’s tube.

Taylor led them to the far side of the Detroit Hall.  There, under a sign which read “Chinese Pottery and Carvings” sat a long table and a large man.  Mr. Ito was holding a green vase close to his nose and had a jeweler’s monocle in his right eye.  Jim and Eve took a few steps back as he addressed the owner of the vase.  When he had finished, Jim, Eve and John Taylor stepped forward.  Introductions were done all around and Jim gave a brief history of the tube to Mr. Ito. 

Ito began to carefully examine the tube.  He held it to an ultraviolet light.  He turned it and rolled it in his hands, his monocled eye taking in every square inch.  Finally, he put the tube down on the table.  He then reached into a toolbox behind him and removed a dish, water bottle and a soft cloth.  In short order he began to gently clean a portion of the tube. 

After several minutes he sat back in his chair, removed the monocle and said, “This is not from the orient.  It is a beautiful piece, the caps at the end are done with amazing workmanship and the carving in the middle is an extraordinary piece of scrimshaw.  But, no, not from the orient.  I think you need to speak to someone more versed in French antiques.  This name looks French.”   He held up the tube and pointed.  Under the grime could be seen a carving of a flower, centered in one of the pedals of the flower was the name “Louis”.

Jim’s surprise was evident.  He’d never seen that carving before.  He was actually a little embarrassed for not noticing it and he said so.  “Not to worry,” said Ito.  “The grime has filled in the engraving.  I nearly missed it myself.  To be honest, I was trying to get a better view of the material this tube is made from.  I thought for a moment it was plastic, but I am certain it is elephant ivory.  This is an extraordinary piece.  It’s a container of some type I think.  Good luck with this.  I am curious to know the outcome.” 

With the last remark he looked at their escort who immediately took the hint.  They thanked Mr. Ito for his efforts and then turned to follow John Taylor.

Taylor led them through the floor displays to a central booth.  Over the booth hung a sign which read “French Pottery, Jewelry and Statues”.  There sat a middle-aged woman very thin with too much makeup; next to her sat a distinguished man wearing a double breasted, European suit.  A short, stout woman hovered over the man as he examined a porcelain statue. 

“Madame I do believe this statute she was made in Orleans,” the man with the double breasted suit said.  “See here she has the maker’s mark?  That is the mark of Monsieur Henri Beau, a man who worked in Orleans, he from annee 1725 a 1760.  He had une petite small shop, was known for these small statues they in porcelain and their deep colours.  He became petite famous him, how do you say…fabrique un peu, making a few of these statues for the Duke of Orleans.  I would estimate this would sell at auction for…”

The man paused, tilted his head back and appeared to be doing some computations.  Eve and Jim glanced at each other, to their well traveled eyes this looked more for show than anything else.

“ahhh…for three to four thousand dollars”

The woman squealed with delight.  She thanked the expert profusely and hurried away to tell her friends.  At that point John Taylor approached, turned to Jim and Eve and said, “Mr. Crenshaw, Mrs. Crenshaw this is Mr. Raymond LeDuc, deputy curator of the Riems Museum in France.” 

LeDuc quickly studied Eve, paid no attention to Jim and said, “How may I be of service?” 

Jim explained what he knew of the tube, which was essentially a repeat of what Mr. Ito had told him moments ago.  Monsieur LeDuc asked to see the tube.  He then placed it under his magnifying glass and carefully examined every part of it.  He glanced up at Eve.  Jim thought he looked more serious than when he had been while playing with the plump lady.  Without taking his eye from the tube, LeDuc reached under the table and came out with a spray bottle and a cloth.  He sprayed the tube and began to wipe it. 

Eve poked Jim in the ribs and whispered, “There goes your theory about keeping the value if you don’t clean an antique.”  Jim winced and nodded.

Finally, LeDuc straightened up.  “This is definitely French.  If it is what I believe it to be you have a most unique and valuable object here.”  He continued to clean the tube.  Finally, engraving could be seen on the end-caps.  LeDuc sat back in his chair.  “This is remarkable,” he said and looked up at them.

Jim and Eve cast nervous glances at each other, then they turned back to LeDuc.  The man had disappeared under his table.  Jim fought down a smile, Eve wasn’t so successful.  The sound of tools being moved about in a toolbox could be heard. 

He reappeared, “Monsieur e Madame Crenshaw please observe here.”  He had a tool that looked like a sharpened wire embedded in a small screwdriver handle.  With the sharpened wire he pointed at the side of the tube.  “Here we have a decoupage, a…a carving of a bouquet of flowers, yes?” 

Jim, Eve and John Taylor all leaned forward and eyed the tube.  Yes, it was clear now.  LeDuc’s cleaning had revealed a bouquet of flowers stretching the length of one side of the tube. 

“
Ici…
” he pointed with the tool in his hand, “is a name, no?  You see?  The name she is Louis, yes?”  They studied the tube, yes, there was a name in very ornate script. 

“Ah,
voila, ici
she is another name.  You see?  It is Joseph.”  He looked at the couple.  “You know who is Louis Joseph?”  They shook their heads no.  Both John Taylor and the woman with too much make-up did the same.

He didn’t tell them.  He simply returned to the tube.  “Now, Monsieur e Madame, we shall see if you are a very wealthy couple no?”  He sat down his probe and began to polish the top of the caps.  At last he began to examine the surface of each cap very carefully under his magnifying glass.  After several moments he picked up his probe and inserted it into a small hole in one end.  He pushed, and they heard a small “click”.  He then began to remove dirt and grime from a crack that had appeared approximately an eighth of an inch below the edge of the cap and circled the tube.  At last, he inserted the probe in the crack and gently began to pry upward.  With a small amount of force the cap sprang open on a recessed hinge.  He stopped and looked at them without saying a word.  They looked back and then at each other.