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Authors: Dennis Wheatley

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Later in the morning Marbois arrived with the prisoner's personal belongings and in the afternoon Duroc brought him half a dozen books; but his mind was too agitated by dismal speculations about his future for him to do more than glance at them. Evening came without his being sent for to face the wrathful Corsican, then ensued a night of troubled sleep. By midday next day still no summons had come; so he sent Marbois round to the house to fetch some of his wine and some cushions with which to make the attic somewhat more comfortable. Then, by hard concentration, he succeeded in interesting himself in the Abbé Prevost's romance
Manon Lescaut
.

It proved as well that he had books and wine to solace his solitary confinement, for it was not until October 27th, the fourth day after his arrest, that Duroc came for him. Having escorted him downstairs and announced him to the General-in-Chief, the aide-de-camp hastily withdrew to avoid becoming involved in the expected tempest.

Bonaparte was pacing up and down the big room, his hands behind his back. Halting suddenly, he swung round. His dark eyes flashed angrily and he demanded:

‘Well, what have you to say for yourself?'

‘Say!' Roger cried indignantly. ‘
Mon Dieu
, I have a lot to say! You do some strange things at times, but I have always stood up for you. I tell people that you are a genius—not an ordinary man, but one inspired by God—sent to us to restore the glory of France. I say that they must make allowances for your follies and take no notice of the small, silly things you sometimes do, because your mind is always occupied by far greater matters that will alter the fate of nations. And what is my reward? What is my reward? To have my property stolen and to be shut up for four days like a criminal. I will not be——'

The thin little Corsican, his enormously broad jaw thrust out, stared at him in amazement then shouted, ‘Stop. What in thunder do you mean?'

‘I mean,' Roger stormed, ‘that I will not be treated like a pickpocket. Because your mind is set on conquering half the world you cannot with impunity jump on the faces of your loyal servants. I, for one, will serve you no longer. You already have my sword. Take my rank badges and my sash. I have no further use for them. I will become a waiter or a brothel-keeper, since you seem to think I am fit for naught else. Do with me what you please! You have the power! Abuse it as you will! But understand one thing. After the scurvy way in which you have treated me I am finished with you.'

For a moment Bonaparte was silent, then he said harshly, ‘Have you gone mad? I have the right to demand an explanation from you, yet you have the insolence to pretend that it is you who are aggrieved. A clever move, but one which will not serve you.'

‘I did not expect it to. You are too wrapped up in your own daydreams to care what happens to others.'

‘That is untrue! I am the father of my soldiers.'

‘Of your soldiers, yes. But not of your friends. Why, you had not even the decency to visit poor Junot in hospital after he had had himself half killed out of love for you.'

‘Discipline must be maintained.'

‘And who maintained it for you except loyal friends like Junot and myself—we who are prepared to draw our swords even upon our seniors when they openly proclaim you to be a madman?'

‘Enough! Enough! All this is beside the point. In defiance of every instruction I have issued you violated the seraglio of the acting Viceroy and made off with one of his women.'

‘And why not? She was not his, but mine. I had bought and paid for her.'

‘You had bought her from him? I do not believe it. To lie in this fashion can only make your case worse.'

‘Do not judge others by yourself,' Roger snapped back. ‘You needs must—

‘How dare you!' roared the Corsican, his normally pale
face turning dead white. ‘I'll not be spoken to like this! I … I … I'll …' He choked and looked as though he were about to have an apoplectic fit.

‘You needs must lie for political reasons,' cut in Roger, finishing the sentence he had begun. ‘But I do not have to. As for saying to you what I have—do not think that because others lack the courage to tell you the truth about yourself that applies also to me. You cannot do worse than have me shot, and I'll say to you what I damn well please.'

He knew that he was taking a desperate gamble; but he had had four days in which to decide on the way in which he would meet his master's accusations. Tame acknowledgement of his guilt could have led only to dismissal and punishment. In the past he had defied people greater than Bonaparte had yet become, and he felt that his one hope of saving himself lay in using the Corsican's own favourite tactics of violent, relentless attack.

Taking a quick breath he hurried on, ‘I tell you I bought this woman. The fact is that I came upon her in the street, the night after we entered Cairo, surrounded by half a dozen soldiers. They were about to drag her into a house and rape her. To save her, I bought her from them for a hundred louis.'

Still trembling with fury, Bonaparte stared at him and muttered, ‘Is this the truth? Do you swear it?'

‘Indeed I do, and should you still doubt me you have only to have her questioned. It was my misfortune that the very next day you sent me with a despatch to Alexandria. On my return I found that the owner of the house in which I had installed myself had emptied it of its furniture and taken her away with him. The Provost Marshal has been hunting her on my behalf for weeks, but without success. Then, four days ago, while the revolt was at its height, I seized the Pasha for you as a hostage. In his palace I found her. She was mine by right of purchase; so naturally I took her away with me. What else would you expect me to have done?'

By one of the extraordinarily swift changes of mood to which Bonaparte was subject he had, while Roger was speaking, become quite calm. Resuming his pacing up and down, he said:

‘Breuc, I have a considerable esteem for you, because you are as brave as any of my
beaux sabreurs
, yet, unlike most of them, you have the wit and temerity to defend yourself when accused. But this will not do. Had you paid ten thousand gold louis for this woman that would still give you no title to her. She is no slave-girl but a lady of high birth and breeding.'

Roger refrained from contradicting this assertion. Secretly, he was now greatly elated at his success in having manoeuvred his master from pronouncing summary judgment on him and having persuaded him to a discussion of his case. With a shrug he said:

‘She is beautiful enough to be a Sultan's daughter, but she has no claim to nobility. She is half French and told me herself that she had recently lost her husband, who was no more than a merchant.'

Bonaparte swung round upon him. ‘Then she deliberately deceived you, probably because she feared that if you knew the truth you would have demanded a great sum for her ransom. She is no merchant's relict, but a widow of the Commander of the Turkish garrison. He was killed in the battle at Embabeh.'

It was Roger's turn to stare. After a moment he said, ‘I understand now,
mon Général
, why you look on my action with such displeasure. I naturally supposed that the Pasha had taken her as one of his concubines; so I felt that my right to her, as her previous owner, was better than his. But if, as you say, she is of noble birth I take it he must have made her one of his wives.'

‘She is neither the Pasha's wife nor his concubine,' Bonaparte replied testily. ‘It is simply that, having been widowed and with the city in a state of unrest, she took refuge in the Pasha's seraglio; just as a woman of our own race, in similar circumstances, might seek refuge in our Embassy. But that makes what you have done no less reprehensible. You, one of my personal aides-de-camp, forcibly abducted this woman and all Cairo knows about it.'

‘It distresses me greatly to have caused you embarrassment in this way,' Roger said with apparent contrition.

‘Apologies are not enough.' Bonaparte's voice became harsh again. ‘In Muslim eyes it is a most heinous crime to
break into a seraglio. It is not to be wondered at that the old Pasha is calling for your blood. Apart from that, you have given me cause to deal severely with you. You seem to think you had a right to carry off this woman. Had she in fact been only a merchant's wife—a woman of no particular account—whom, by some trick, you could have lured to a rendezvous and so secured her again, I would not have held it against you. But by openly using violence you showed a flagrant disregard for my expressed wishes regarding our treatment of the population. As matters are, I've no alternative other than to make a public example of you.'

Roger shrugged. ‘If your prestige will be enhanced by so doing I willingly accept anything you may decree.'

‘In the circumstances I cannot possibly retain you as one of my aides-de-camp.'

‘I understand that,
mon General
. All the same I find it regrettable; because I think you will agree that in that capacity I have been of some value to you, whereas I can be of little use in any other.'

‘You mean that you have never served as an officer in a regiment or even been trained as a soldier.'

‘Exactly. I know next to nothing of military evolutions or procedure. Doubtless after a few months I would have picked up enough to be capable of commanding a Company. But what then? I'd still not be worth as much to you as hundreds of others who have had years of experience.'

‘Yes, yes, I realise that,' Bonaparte replied impatiently, ‘and in other ways you are a man of exceptional abilities. I find it difficult to contain my anger at the thought that through your folly I shall have to deprive myself of your services. Yet I see no alternative.'

‘Is that really so? Could you not appease the Turk by cashiering me, then, as a civilian, making me Bourrienne's assistant?'

Bonaparte shook his head violently. ‘That is out of the question. It would be known at once that I had slapped you on one cheek and kissed you on the other.'

Roger had felt certain that his suggestion would be rejected, and he had made it only to lead up to another. Now, his heart beating a little faster, he introduced the bold and
subtle idea that had come to him during his confinement by asking:

‘How long is it since you have had authentic news of what has been happening in Paris?'

As he expected, his question provoked a new explosion. Stamping his foot, the little Corsican cried angrily, ‘Paris! It might be as distant as the moon for all I know of what goes on there. It is now months since I had a despatch from those miserable Directors. Some despatches may have been intercepted by the English, but that could not apply to all did they write to me regularly. Having, as they think, got me out of the way, they are deliberately keeping me in ignorance. No doubt they fear that if things were not going well there, and I knew it, I'd return and pitchfork them out of the Luxembourg into the gutter. And so I will, should an occasion arise when it suits me to do so. But this has naught to do with my future employment of you.'

Drawing a deep breath, Roger launched his project. ‘It might, if you have a mind to make the best possible use of me. Why not send me back there to——'

Again Bonaparte stopped his pacing, swung on his heel and repeated, ‘Send you back there?'

‘Yes,' Roger hurried on. ‘To find out for you what those fellows are up to. Since I can pass as an Englishman I'll have no difficulty in getting through the blockade. With luck I could be in Paris in a month. Talleyrand is your friend and has been mine for many years. He misses nothing and in an hour could give me a correct appraisal of how matters are going with both your friends and your enemies. I could return as easily as I went, and be back here soon after Christmas with a mass of information that you could obtain in no other way.'

‘
Ventre du Diable;
this is an inspiration!' The Corsican's dark eyes lit up, he gave a sudden laugh and, stepping up to Roger, slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Breuc, I have always said you would be worth a Division to me. I would have been mad to have turned you into a cavalryman. If I march against Syria, as is my present intention, I'll not start until towards the end of January. Unless the weather proves most unfavourable you should be able to rejoin me before that. Then on
what you have to report I can form a decision whether to adhere to my plan or … or adopt some other.'

Roger beamed. ‘You may rely upon me,
mon Général
, to use the utmost despatch. When do you wish me to start?'

‘I would say this instant, but you must carry letters for me to Talleyrand and to my brother Joseph. I shall give out, of course, that I have dismissed you, and sent you to kick your heels on garrison duty in some small fort on the coast. Go now. See Duroc. Pull a long face and tell him that, then say I have authorised him to return your sword to you. Bourrienne alone will be in our secret. Collect my letters from him at four o'clock and be ready to set out immediately afterwards.'

‘These letters,' Roger said. ‘Making the voyage to Italy or Spain as an Englishman it is unlikely that I shall be searched, but it would be wise to guard against that hazard. I suggest they should be written on thin paper, so that I can conceal them in the lining of a coat.'

‘You are right. Bourrienne keeps some special paper and fine pens for such missives. I will tell him to use these.' Bonaparte stretched out a hand and gave Roger's ear a swift tweak. ‘Go now and good luck to you.'

During the hours that followed Roger found it extremely hard to conceal the delight he felt at having succeeded in his great coup; but he did his best, when saying good-bye to Duroc and his other friends, to pretend disgust at the way in which his master was sacrificing him to the Pasha. They all condoled with him and tried to cheer him by saying they felt sure that Bonaparte, having made the gesture, would soon recall him, and the lovely, violet-eyed little
La Bellilotte
, touched at the thought that he had lost his post on account of a love-affair, said she would do her utmost to soften the heart of her all-powerful lover.

BOOK: The Sultan's Daughter
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