Inferno (45 page)

After a stunned silence, one ventured, ‘Did you say, “King of France”, sir?'

‘I did.'

‘B-but—'

‘
Sa majesté le roi Louis le dix-huitième.
'

Bray looked away in embarrassment and Brice blinked in bewilderment, both unsure of what was going on.

Bowden caught on first. ‘Ah. Your meaning is the Bourbon pretender to the—'

‘Never the pretender, sir!' Kydd said severely. ‘Should Bonaparte lay down his arms and throw up his hands in surrender, France will be restored to the man styled King of France, he who is now in exile in the Duchy of Courland.'

‘I've never heard o' this gentleman,' Bray managed.

‘Well, now you have.'

‘Sir, you mentioned a rescue?'

‘I did,' Kydd said, more seriously. ‘Boney has sent a parcel of footpads to seize him and take him back to France. This we cannot allow to happen.'

‘And we …?'

‘They're coming by land, we by sea. We arrive first and convey him to safe haven. A simple enough task, I'd have thought.'

‘Courland. I don't recollect I knows where this is, sir.'

‘Lay the Duchy of Lithuania to starboard thirty leagues, Mr Joyce.'

‘Oh.'

‘If I said Riga, would it signify more?'

‘Ah. An old trading port of our'n. Past where we was wi' the Prussians. An' I'm grieved to say, sir, I've nary a chart nor directions for such far.'

‘Have you been there? Anyone?'

There was a doleful shaking of heads. Kydd frowned. Not only was the further Baltic known for its hazards but when they arrived he had to find the palace. Other than what he'd learned from Bernadotte, that it was at Mitau in Courland, he had no idea where it was and time was not on their side.

‘Sir.'

‘Mr Brice?'

‘Why don't we stop one of our merchant jacks and ask the way?'

Kydd answered wryly, ‘A good idea, but haven't you heard? The Danish Sound is in uproar. There'll be nothing getting past.'

The lieutenant smiled indulgently. ‘Sir, if I know your merchant captain at all in these parts, he'll be main pleased to be through without he pays the toll, for just a trifle in the way of shot about his ears.'

In the main shipping lane to the north they soon had a stout Baltic trader hove to in their lee.

Kydd made the boarding himself, pacifying an irate master who thought it a scurvy trick to press men in these perilous waters. Further mollifying had him produce his charts and passage notes, which Joyce snatched up with glee.

‘So where are you bound then, Captain?' the ship's master asked, eyeing Joyce at the charts.

‘To Riga.'

‘I won't ask what a king's ship is about there, but if you're in anything like a dash, I wouldn't advise it.'

‘Why so?'

‘As the Gulf o' Riga is found well in off the Baltic some hundred mile, but it's set about with wicked shoals at the entrance, as can make anything of a westerly foul for leaving. You get in, you'll never get out while the wind's like it is now.'

‘Thank you for the advice, which I'll take. So how …?'

‘In the main we anchors in Libau Roads, a tidy bit closer and clear o' the gulf. Has a highway direct to Riga.'

‘And have you heard tell of a palace, Mitau Palace, at all?'

‘Palace? The likes o' we don't have dealings with such, Captain.'

K
ydd anchored at a discreet distance on the pretence of taking aboard stores to continue his cruise. Like all good captains, he'd naturally feel the need to go ashore to hear the latest news and trade gossip.

Libau, a prosperous ancient town, had done well out of the many nations that had traded there over the centuries, and the war was still at a comfortable distance. Kydd learned there were agents and factors from a score of countries, and communications from this ice-free port into the interior were excellent. He needed only to locate the palace and the grateful king could be rapidly whisked away to safety.

Back on board he had second thoughts. A Russian official had come out to satisfy himself that the presence of an English frigate had no military significance, a timely reminder that this was a Russian protectorate. Anything of the importance of what Kydd was contemplating would need at the least permission and in all probability a reference to the Tsar. That was out of the question, so the whole thing would have to be clandestine. King Louis would understand once the
danger was explained, and some kind of disguise would get him here. Then it was simply a quick boat trip out to
Tyger
. All could be managed discreetly.

It was left only to locate the palace and proceed … Was it all to be so easy?

There was no question but that he himself should appear to inform the King. Who else should go?

Then there were details. If he went in the full panoply of a knight of the realm, in keeping with attendance at a royal court, not only would he stand out as curiously exotic but it would bring every spy worth his salt on his tail. So he'd go in his best plain clothes, those which he'd had Tysoe stow for discreet occasions – even if they were hardly of the quality to be expected at a French court.

Just how did he go about getting an audience? He could hardly tap on the palace gates and demand to see the King.

It was all rather murky and he longed for Renzi to give him a steer about such matters but, of course, he was now far away.

But there was Dillon. He'd been in Renzi's employ and must have learned something of the ropes …

‘In course, Sir Thomas, you should send ahead. A letter of introduction, your trusted man to see you shall be received with all due compliments, delicate discussion as to your status – are you to be an official guest, victualled in to the King's account? There are pecuniary implications, you'll understand.'

‘Ah, yes. But who—'

‘It were better I started immediately. There's much to do.'

‘Edward, after what happened I can't ask you to—'

‘Can you think of one else?'

Kydd gave a small smile. ‘Very well, I accept your kind
offer. Now, we don't even know where this palace of exile is. I've a notion it's not going to be easy to locate.'

‘Leave it to me. I've yet to meet a merchant factor of delicacies without he knows his market. Now, sir, I humbly suggest you make travel in the character of, say, a British projector of manufactories seeking opportunities.'

‘Alone?'

‘With a manservant, of course.'

Kydd grinned at the image of Halgren in an exiled Versailles, but Dillon seemed to read his mind. ‘Not your coxswain but Tysoe, whose appearance of colour will be singular and much admired in these parts, testifying to your undoubted standing.'

‘I'd feel safer with Halgren.'

‘Sir, I fancy this will be an occasion of delicacy and diplomacy rather than peril and adventure.'

‘You're right in course, Edward.'

‘I shall shortly land to make my way there. The harbour-master's office will hold my note of direction for you to take carriage yourself and details of where we shall meet at Mitau.'

‘I'm obliged to you, dear fellow. Until we meet at the court of King Louis?'

D
illon's hastily scribbled note informed Kydd that Mitau was a twenty-mile detour off the Riga road to the south and that he should stay at the Lielā inn and await him. Tysoe had taken his instructions with vexing composure, clearly of the opinion that an appearance before a mere French king was nothing exceptional for someone at his master's eminence.

The road to Riga was smooth and the carriage well-sprung. As he gazed out of the window Kydd couldn't help pondering the workings of Fate for a young wig-maker of Guildford who had heard with his family the horrifying news of the Revolution and execution of the King of France – and was now on his way to save his brother and successor. A tale to regale Renzi with indeed.

After an agreeable journey through a medieval landscape, Kydd and Tysoe transferred to another coach for the last miles to Mitau. It was evening when they arrived at the town. The coachman stopped outside a charming inn of the old style, set beside a river. He mimed a deep bow and the placing of a crown on his head, then proudly pointed to a long
island in the river where the end of a grand building peeped above the trees. The Mitau Palace?

The rooms at the inn were small, but quaint and snug. Tysoe ignored the looks of curiosity and nobly set about his duties while Kydd accepted a glass of wine from a wide-eyed serving maid.

There was not long to wait. A quiet knock on the door and Dillon entered in severe but smart black attire that Kydd hadn't seen before. ‘I trust you travelled well, Sir Thomas?'

‘Indeed. And you?'

‘Sir, the situation is not necessarily in our favour.'

‘Oh?'

‘The British representative is insistent that he is unable to assist in the matter of obtaining an audience.'

‘What?'

‘He will tell you himself – he's coming here shortly and knows only that you wish to see the King privily.'

The envoy of the court of St James to the court of King Louis arrived quietly in the anonymity of darkness, regarding Kydd keenly before accepting a chair. A ruddy-faced, portly gentleman of years, with silver-tipped cane and old-fashioned breeches, he looked like a country squire.

‘Sir Benjamin Tucker, sir. And I've heard a strange tale from your man that you wish audience with our Louis.'

‘Of some urgency, Sir Benjamin.'

‘You'll never get one.'

‘Pray why not?'

‘You're a stout son o' the sea, can't be expected to know.' His shrewd blue eyes held a hint of humour in them. ‘This is a court of exile. It's run-down, threadbare and lives on past glories and future impossible dreams. It's also the first place royalists go with their wild plots, mad schemes and
petitions for funds, and you may believe there are well-tried defences. You've a letter of accreditation, a form of diplomatic introduction, perhaps. No? Then regrettably there's nothing that can be done.'

‘Then why are you here listening to me?' Kydd asked.

‘I'm sanguine there's a very good reason why a distinguished sea captain desires the ear of the French King and, frankly, I'd wish to know it. Not that I can do anything about it, of course …'

Kydd hesitated for a moment. ‘Sir, for your ears only.'

‘Of course.'

‘I have intelligence that very shortly a party of Frenchmen will reach here whose task it is to seize the person of the King and carry him to Paris.'

‘Oh dear.' A sorrowful smile spread. ‘I do hope you didn't pay too much for this bauble. You've no idea how many of these rumours are about these days.'

‘I have it from an unimpeachable authority,' Kydd said stiffly. ‘You may accept it as trustworthy.'