The Lightstep (28 page)

She thought of all the bare walls of the house, stripped of
paintings when Ludwig and Emilia had had to sell them. They
had not chosen to replace what they had lost with any of these.
Small wonder.

'Why have you done so many that are so like each other?' she
asked.

Again that pause, as if his mind had to travel a long, long way
back from where it had gone in order to answer.

'It's what you see that matters.'

'Thank you,' she said.

After a few moments more she stole out of the room. The
servant followed, balancing his bowl in one hand while he closed
the door. In the corridor she turned to him.

'Let me pay for his brushes,' she said.

The servant looked at her in surprise.

'Did he not instruct you to buy brushes?' she asked.

'He did, my Lady. I go to Koblenz for them.'

'Come, then. Your master has so many things to bear, and
brushes must be expensive even when you can find them. Let me
give these as a gift. And you can add some brighter colours, if you
think he will use them. You may tell him they are from me.'

'Very good, my Lady.'

After that, she sought out her hostess and they walked together
in the garden.

'He was always passionate, where Ludwig is moderate,' said
Emilia. 'He joined the republicans in Mainz after the Elector fled.
He had such high hopes for the new state. Of course, under the
French the republicans split. There were purges. He found he
could trust so few people. Ludwig went to the city to beg him to
leave, but he would not. Then the Austrians and Prussians
besieged the city. It was a terrible time for all of us, for Ludwig
was trapped in the city with him, and so was Hofmeister. The
danger to them was very great, for Ludwig and Hofmeister were
former officials of the Elector, and if the republicans had found
them they would have been driven out of the city to starve
between the lines, as so many others did. So Maximilian was
hiding them, and putting himself at risk of a treason charge.
When surrender was near he and some friends tried to open
negotiations with the Imperial force, but it was already too late.
The French left the city, and the townspeople turned on the men
who had brought them the republic. He would have been killed
if Ludwig had not saved him.

'Think of it – to have had dreams that you could better the lot
of your fellow men. And then to see everything you did
corrupted and become crimes, until you are hunted by the very
people you have sought to help! And of course what he paints
now comes from the things he saw then.'

'He said to me "It's what you see that matters",' said Maria
sombrely. 'I suppose he meant that it is what you
have
seen.'

'I suppose so.'

'Here,' said Bergesrode, in the antechamber at dawn. 'It's taken
a while to emerge but you had better see how it went.'
He passed some sheets of closely-written paper across his desk.

Wéry took them. They were a draft, with many corrections
and notes in the margins. He did not recognize the writing. But
the first page began: 'Testimony of Major Jean-Marie Lanard,
formerly of the 16th Demi-Brigade of the Line of the so-called
French Republic' The words 'so-called French Republic' had
been deleted and in their place the words 'country of France'
had been inserted, 'written small between the lines.

Wéry glanced up at Bergesrode, surprised. But Bergesrode was
already absorbed, or was pretending to be absorbed, in Wéry's
own summary of the latest reports from around Wetzlar.
Wéry looked down at the transcript again.

On being invited to proceed, Major Lanard stated that, in
accordance with orders received in the course of the twenty-second
of April, his company, together with two other
companies of his battalion and a battery of field guns,
marched through the night to occupy the ridge to the east of
the bridge at Hersheim. This they achieved without
encountering the enemy . . .

The words 'the enemy' had been deleted and in their place a
note was added in the margin 'forces of the Empire'.

. . . his company, stationed in the centre. While overseeing this
manoeuvre, he received a further message to attend a meeting
with his company commander and the commanders of the
other companies, and of the battery. At this meeting he was
informed of messages from his brigade headquarters with
news of the Armistice at Loeben and orders to observe a
ceasefire with [enemy] Imperial forces . . .

It went on, for page after page. Lanard must have been before
the War Commission for the best part of the day. Wéry skipped
forward, familiar with the details of the story but eager to see
how the Frenchman had told it.

. . . At ten o'clock the head of a column of [ enemy ] Imperial
troops was sighted emerging from the woods on the opposite
bank . . .

Such a sentence might have been dictated by any Imperial
officer. It took a soldier to read beyond the bald words and know
the horrible, crawling thrill at the sight of those distant uniforms.
The enemy!

. . . instructed to cross the river, under a flag of truce, to ensure
that the commander of the force was aware of the ceasefire,
and to establish his intentions.

At this point in the narrative there must have been an
interruption, for the next few lines were half-completed jottings
in the clerk's hand, most of which appeared to have been written
hurriedly and had subsequently been crossed out. Then there
followed an exchange in which Lanard appeared to have played
no part at all.

On being granted permission to address the Inquiry, Count
Balcke-Horneswerden asserted that the testimony of Major
Lanard could be given no credence. The Observation was
made that Major Lanard had not yet said what had passed at
the parley, and the Question was put to the Count: what
grounds he had for his assertion. The Answer of Count
Balcke-Horneswerden: that the word of an officer of the so-called
Republic could not be trusted.

The Question was put: whether Count Balcke-Horneswerden
would not believe the word of such an officer.
The Answer. He would not.

The Question: whether this would be true, even if the officer
brought Count Balcke-Horneswerden news that might be of
very great importance to the men under his command. A
further Question was put: whether Count Balcke-Horneswerden
would, on receiving such news, take steps to
find out whether it were true. The Answer of Count Balcke-Horneswerden
: that the actions of the revolutionary forces
and their government over a number of years made it plain
that they did not recognize the concept of honour.

The Observation was made that this point had been
considered by the Representatives of the War Commission
before Major Lanard had been permitted to give his
testimony. Major Lanard was invited to continue.

Wéry skipped on hurriedly down the page.

. . . that he had informed the senior Imperial officer, Count
Balcke-Horneswerden, of the ceasefire, that he had repeated
this several times, and that he had offered to return to his lines
to bring back the message they had received from their
brigade. To which Count Balcke-Horneswerden had replied
that he should return to his lines and remain there.

On being granted permission to address the Inquiry, Count
Balcke-Horneswerden asserted . . .

Poor Old Blinkers. All he had achieved had been to turn the
interrogation away from Lanard and onto himself. Wéry could
well picture the scene: the three inquisitors, the quick-witted
Frenchman, and Balcke, red-faced, battering vainly away at points
which the Inquiry had no intention of granting him. There was
no doubt who had come off worst.

And then, lower down:

. . . conference of French officers, at which one of the company
commanders, a Major Bretonne, proposed to the senior
officer that the 2nd Battalion should itself withdraw to a
distance until the Imperial forces could be persuaded of the
ceasefire. Major Lanard further stated that the French officers
were still debating this possibility when the Imperial cannon
opened fire. Major Lanard wished the Inquiry to record that
Major Bretonne was subsequently killed in the action . . .

Skatt-Hesse and the others had been right. The army had been
crucified.

'It looks bad,' he said, handing it back over the desk.

'Yes,' said Bergesrode shortly. There was a pause, as though he
was waiting for Wéry to say something.

'Thank you for showing it to me.'

'I thought you should see it.' And then:'So why did you do it?'

'Do what?'

'Bring that man here!'

So they had come to it, now.

'I did have a hand in the arrangements,' he said slowly. 'It was
rather against my will. But the price was something we needed
badly.'

'What?'

'A safe link to the Rhine.' He said it as stoutly as if he still
believed, to the very heart of his heart, that Maria von Adelsheim
could keep a promise.

Bergesrode's face hardened, as if nothing that could possibly
come from the Rhine could have been worth allowing an officer
of the revolution into Erzberg.

'The reports could be very valuable,' Wéry added.

'Yes?' said Bergesrode. And he slammed his desk and screamed,
'Where are they, then?'

Wéry jumped. With another man he would have expected fits
of rage, but not with Bergesrode. This was not Bergesrode. This
was a wounded animal.

And he had nothing to say. There was no way he could defend
himself. The reports had not come. He had gambled – gambled
grotesquely – and lost. Was it dismissal, at last?

The two men glared at one another. The silence between
them lengthened. Wéry sensed a struggle in Bergesrode's eyes as
the priest mastered himself. He sensed exhaustion (Heaven knew
what hours the man slept!). He remembered what Balcke had
said about the tensions between the Prince and the Ingolstadt set,
and how Bergesrode might be affected. And none of that would
help him now.

Bergesrode looked down at Wéry's report again. 'They are still
reducing, then,' he said coldly.

'So it seems.'

'What does it mean?'

'For us, not much. It would be natural to pull some strength
back across the Rhine – there must be an endless list of tasks for
them to do. But what they have left is more than enough to move
against us – supposing they have the guns.'

'And have they?'

'I don't know.'

'You don't know. That's always the answer, isn't it? Maybe this,
maybe that, but we don't know. We just don't know. There is no
information!'

'I'm doing what I can!' said Wéry. Now he wanted to scream.
He wanted to shout back at Bergesrode – to demand how, since
the Prince's Treasury could afford no more than a bare dozen
informants scattered across middle Germany, he was to steal the
secrets of high policy, and whether he was expected to measure
each muzzle of every gun in the camps of the Armée
d'Allemagne at the same time! And also why he should bother,
since every report only provoked more questions! But it would
be pointless, pointless . . .

'So this is the best you can do, is it? After what we – and
you – have paid?'

The Frenchman again.

'I told you, I'm still . . .'

'Still waiting. So am I. And on the Illuminati? Nothing on
them either, I suppose. This is not . . .'

'Yes!'
Wéry exploded. 'Yes, I have had something on your
precious Illuminati!'

'You have? What?'

Instantly Wéry regretted his words. 'It was an unconfirmed
report,' he said.

'So you should confirm it. What did it say?'

'There was a meeting, in Erzberg,' said Wéry reluctantly. 'It was
attended by an Illuminatus from Nuremberg, who may have been
trying to recruit for his order. The report came from a man who
was close to someone who attended the meeting.'

'When was this?'

'In October, when we all thought we were about to be
attacked. There was no evidence of French involvement, so . . .'

'You should have reported this at once! Were there any
Illuminati from Erzberg at the meeting?'

'The report did not say. But . . .'

'What?'

Wéry shook his head.

'But what?' insisted Bergesrode.

'A claim was made, apparently, that there is at least one
Illuminatus in Erzberg, and that he is in the palace. That's all it is,'
he said hastily. 'A claim. All of this is unconfirmed . . .'

'You have said that already!' Bergesrode snapped. 'I will be the
judge of it. But I must know everything – who was at this meeting,
where was it held, what was said. Names, above all. You had
no right to keep this to yourself!'

'The name of the man from Nuremberg was Doctor Sorge,'
said Wéry.

'Sorge,' repeated Bergesrode, making a note. 'Good. But who
is this man in the palace?'

'We don't know. It was stated that he was highly placed, but
how much credence . . .'

'I will be the judge of that. Who else attended the meeting?'
His pen was poised.

Wéry squirmed inwardly. 'I – I will have to consult my notes.
And perhaps re-interview the informant . . .'

Notes? He had none. Interview Uhnen again? Hardly. He was
stalling for time. But what could he do with time, if he got it?

Slowly, Bergesrode put the pen down again. He put his hands
together under his chin as if he were about to pray. His eyes never
left Wéry.

'Very well,' he said at last. 'Let me have a proper report, as soon
as possible. In the meantime I will see what can be found out
about this Doctor Sorge. But this is not satisfactory, Wéry. His
Highness expects better.'

He gathered papers from his pile and got to his feet. He must
be about to go into the Prince with the morning's business.
Wéry's report from Wetzlar remained on the desk.

'Will you show that to him?' asked Wéry, nodding towards it.

'There's nothing new there,' said Bergesrode curtly.

He walked to the inner door, knocked softly, and passed inside.
For a moment Wéry glimpsed the rich blues of Heaven on the
walls of the Prince's office, lit with the gold glory of the winter
sunrise. Then the door closed, shutting them away from his sight.
And he was left in the antechamber, with his fists clenched in
anger.

He looked at them. He almost put them in his mouth. Then a
sound behind him made him turn.

Fernhausen had entered, and was sitting nonchalantly on the
edge of his desk. He was in his shirtsleeves. A month ago he
would not even have unbuttoned his tunic in the antechamber.
He had taken his time about reaching his desk this morning,
too.

'He likes to be consulted, our priestly friend,' he said, with a
little yawn. 'Especially about bringing revolutionaries into the
city.'

Wéry let out a long breath. Instincts began to twitch in his
head. Something was happening in the Prince's office. Here was
the representative of the army, and the reformers, looking surer of
himself while the secretary from the conservative clergy was
sounding harassed. Some balance was shifting here, even as outside
the palace the Ingolstadt set appeared to be on the point of
bringing down the army's most senior officer.

'He was right, though,' Wéry confessed. 'I made a bargain. It
may not have been a good one.'

'How very intriguing,' said Fernhausen. 'I have to tell you that
the Prince was not pleased when he heard what you had done.
But our priestly friend took your part. He told His Highness that
we must be seen to give the War Commission all the help it
needs. There was a bit of a drama between the two of them about
it. His Highness thought that Bergesrode was carrying on the old
feud on behalf of the Ingolstadt set; but it wasn't that. Bergesrode
was protecting you. He's still hoping you'll strike gold somewhere,
you see.'

'If I strike it anywhere, now, it will be on the Rhine.'

'Ah, the Rhine, the Rhine. Doesn't it seem strange that France
and the Emperor can spend months agreeing a peace treaty, and
yet no one seems to know what is to happen about the Rhine?
Worrying, for everyone. Did you know the Adelsheim daughter
was over there?'

'What! In the Rhineland?'

'Oh yes. She's visiting the relatives of a friend, or some such.
That's the story, anyway. I myself suspect that she's gone to hunt
for some new French fashions.'

Wéry stared at him. Of all the things that had been said to him
this morning . . .

'I didn't know,' he said hoarsely. 'I've been in the barracks for
a fortnight.'

'Ah yes. I heard about that, too. So dull for you. But probably best
to let tempers cool. Although in fact she went off at least a week
before that. I had to sign the passports myself, because after your
little coup Bergesrode insists that anything that looks or even smells
as if it is anything to do with France has to be approved here. Are
you going to challenge someone when you get the chance?'