Doctor Who: The Reign of Terror (20 page)

'This time it will not fail,' Barras
assured him. 'He will be tried and executed before his associates can
react.'

Napoleon smiled faintly. 'You make it
sound so very simple, Barras. But I fear you underestimate
Robespierre. He has a talent for survival.'

It was Barras's turn to smile. 'Only if
he is allowed to speak, General. And he will not be,' he promised.

There was a pause. Napoleon rose and
went to stare out of the window at the tempest raging outside the
inn. 'As far as I am concerned, your success or failure mean very
little,' he declared coldly. 'I am a soldier and I am about to leave
for Constantinople to reorganise the Turkish artillery ... '

Barras rose to confront the lukewarm
Corsican. 'I am well aware of your contempt for us politicians,
tearing France to pieces while the Allies prepare to pounce ... '
he began.

Napoleon raised his hand in a
commanding gesture. 'Exactly what is your proposal?' he demanded.

Barras sipped his wine. 'To govern
France successfully, General, I believe that one needs the support of
the majority of the governed,' he said earnestly.

Napoleon nodded impatiently. 'And after
destroying Robespierre, how do you propose to gain that support?'

'With you, General,' Barras replied,
smiling and sipping his wine. 'Your recent triumphs in the Austrian
Camapign have made you a hero in the People's eyes.'

Bonaparte shrugged. 'And in your eyes,
Citizen Barras?'

Barras remained silent, trying to think
of a diplomatic response. It was no secret that the Corsican General
had irritated the Government with his spirited independence of mind
and had even spent a few days under house arrest.

Napoleon's eyes gleamed shrewdly. 'A
useful prop for your new Revolutionary Government?' he suggested
ironically.

Barras uttered an embarrassed laugh.
'Oh, come, come, General, you would be much more than a mere
figurehead,' he said hastily.

The Corsican turned sharply. 'I am glad
you appreciate that fact,' he said modestly. 'In what capacity would
I be required to serve the Revolution?'

'We shall amend the Constitution,'
Barras answered hurriedly, as if it would be done there and then.
'The amendment will provide for government by three Consuls. You,
General will be one of them.'

There was a brief pause.

'When do you require my decision?'

'At once.'

'And if I refuse?'

Barras stared into his wine glass. 'You
are in a strong position, General, but you are not completely
indispensable ... ' he replied carefully. 'There are other
ambitious young men.. . '

Bonaparte raised his hand again as if
he were halting a marching column. 'You will not need them. I
accept,' he said sharply.

Barras's dour face broke into a sunny
smile of triumph and relief. But before he could reply, Bonaparte
went on.

'I accept, subject to Robespierre's
downfall,' he stipulated. 'If your coup fails, I shall deny this
meeting ever took place and depart at once for Constantinople.'

Barras nodded his eager agreement. 'I
will summon you to Paris as soon as a suitable time has elapsed.'

Napoleon Bonaparte picked up his gloves
and his hat and faced the much older and more powerful politician
squarely, with a dash of youthful arrogance in his confident stare.
'I shall be ready to take over ... ' he said with prophetic
certainty.

On the other side of the wall, Ian and
Barbara exchanged wry glances at Barras's disconcerted reaction,
barely able to appreciate fully the fact that they were eavesdropping
on a momentous historical event. Their excitement made them careless.

'Poor old Barras doesn't know what he's
letting France in for!' Barbara couldn't help chuckling.

Next moment they both dodged away from
the wall as the door to the private room burst open and the future
dictator of France strode out into the bar pulling on his greatcoat
and smiling with the blessing of destiny on his sallow features.

'Bonaparte?' Napoleon Bonaparte the
ruler of France?' James Stirling stared incredulously at Ian and
Barbara as the early morning sunshine streamed into Jules Renan's
dining room.

'As one of three Consuls,' Barbara
repeated patiently for the umpteenth time.

Stirling laughed hollowly as he paced
up and down the room between them. 'He won't be content with being
one of three,' he predicted grimly. 'I've watched his promotion ...
Bonaparte is clever and ambitious. He intends to rule alone and one
day he will, just you wait and see!'

Ian was tempted to say that they didn't
need to wait and see, but a warning glance from the Doctor kept him
silent.

The Doctor, who had remained silent by
the window while Ian and Barbara had related what they had heard and
seen at the inn, suddenly roused himself and strode into the middle
of the room shaking his walking stick impatiently. 'Our only concern
now is Susan,' he announced sternly.

James Stirling shook his head. 'Susan
is only one of our concerns, Doctor,' he objected. 'If Robespierre is
arrested and taken to the Conciergerie, we might find it impossible
to get in there, let alone get your granddaughter safely out.'

Ian stepped forward angrily. 'We made a
bargain, Stirling!'

'And I'll keep to it, Ian,' Stirling
pledged.

'You must have suspected that this
might happen, Stirling,' the Doctor accused him, his hollow face
lined with anxiety about Susan's perilous situation.

The English intelligence agent frowned
in dismay. 'I did, but I had no idea Barras was so strong,' he
admitted. He turned to Jules who had also kept silent since their
return from the inn. 'Jules, what time is the Convention meeting?' he
asked, a note of desperation creeping into his robust voice.

Jules glanced at the clock. 'It would
be ended by now,' he replied in his hesitant English.

Stirling picked up his hat from the
table. 'Then Robespierre may already be in custody,' he said. 'But
there may still be time ... I must find out.'

As he picked up his cane and moved to
the door, Barbara rushed forward and clasped his arm. 'You mean,
you'd try to keep Robespierre as ruler of France?' she exclaimed in
disbelief.

Stirling stared fiercely into her eyes.
'If I were convinced it was the only way to prevent outright war
between England and France, I'd have no choice,' he
confessed. 'Am I right, Jules?'

Jules Renan nodded unhappily and turned
to Barbara. 'We need a strong government - but not a military
dictatorship ... ' he told her earnestly. 'And a military
tyranny-could happen.. . '

'But it will happen!' Barbara cried,
unable to appreciate that Jules and Stirling could not foresee what
she already knew. 'You can't change history ... '

The Doctor eased Barbara gently away
from Stirling's side. 'My dear Miss Wright, it's no use. You're
wasting your breath,' he chided her, like a kindly headmaster in the
staff room. 'They will have to wait until it is time for them to know
the truth ... ' He turned to Stirling and Renan. 'Do as you think
fit. I'm going to free Susan,' he declared defiantly, brandishing his
stick.

James Stirling bowed to the inevitable.
'Take Barbara with you,' he suggested, in a sudden rush of words.
'Let her wait outside the Conciergerie. Jules, you obtain a carriage
and horses and meet Barbara outside the prison. If the Doctor can get
Susan out, they will join Barbara and wait for you. Ian and I will
join you all as soon as we can.'

Ian grabbed Stirling's sleeve as Jules
hurried out. 'And where are we going?' he demanded.

'To Robespierre's chamber,' Stirling
replied, putting on his hat. 'As Citizen Lemaitre I may be able to
delay things to give the Doctor a little more time.' He turned to the
Doctor. 'If you are not waiting outside the prison when we arrive, we
shall come in to find you ... 'he promised.

Confused and weary after the long
night's exploits, Ian looked to the Doctor for guidance as Stirling
strode to the door and waited there impatiently for everyone to
respond to his plan.

'Yes, do as he says Chesterton,' the
Doctor reluctantly agreed after a moment's consideration. 'You can't
really help me, but you can help to make sure that our friend
Stirling or Lemaitre or whoever he is turns up to help us get away.'

Ian nodded. 'Okay, Doctor. See you
outside the prison. Good luck everybody.'

Barbara ran over and kissed his cheek.
'Take good care, Ian,' she murmured, squeezing his arm.

Ian and James Stirling strode away,
leaving the Doctor and Barbara suddenly alone. Barbara unexpectedly
broke into a fit of giggling which made her eyes water and her nose
run.

The Doctor seized her arm and shook
her, anxious to be on his way to rescue Susan. 'What on earth is the
matter, young woman?' he demanded. 'What do you find so very
amusing?'

Barbara did her best to pull herself
together. 'It's all this ... all this activity to try and prevent
something happening that we know is inevitable ... ' she giggled,
wiping her eyes. 'I mean, Robespierre will be arrested and
guillotined, whatever we do or don't do.'

The Doctor frowned as if he failed to
see the joke. 'Of course, my dear. I have explained the situation to
you often enough during our travels. We cannot change or influence
history ... '

Barbara instantly became serious. 'I
learned that lesson during our visit to the Aztecs ... ' she
recalled wryly.

The Doctor led her firmly towards the
door. 'Everything will take place just as it was recorded,' he
confirmed. 'We cannot influence the tide ... but we can stop
ourselves being swept away in the flood of events.'

Barbara's eyes darkened with doubt. 'Oh
my goodness ... Susan!' she cried, grabbing the Doctor's arm and
dragging him along. 'Come on, Doctor, we don't have time to
philosophise. We've got to get to the prison!'

The Convention meeting had
disintegrated in uproar and Robespierre had been forced to flee from
the throng of angry Deputies clamouring for his resignation, and
worse, his removal from office. Reaching his chamber, he bolted the
double doors and leaned against them panting for breath and tugging
loose his torn and dishevelled cravat and collar.

After a few seconds, a sudden thought
seemed to fill him with panic. Rushing to his ornate desk, he started
rummaging in the drawers and among the bundles of documents scattered
everywhere. In his haste he flung papers in all directions in a
frenzy of desperation. At last his green eyes lighted on the document
he sought. Folding it, he stuffed it into an inner pocket of his sky
blue silk coat and then leaned on the desk, his lungs heaving under
his thin chest.

Next moment a cacophony of shouts and a
couple of gunshots cracked the forbidding silence in the anteroom
outside. Robespierre snatched a pistol out of the drawer, checked
that it was loaded and cocked and hastened to look out of the long
windows overlooking the courtyard. Then he ran over to check the
bolts on the doors. Finally he backed away behind the desk, still
breathing hard, the sweat glistening on his sickly complexion like
the tacky bloom on waxed fruit as he listened to the relentless
approach of tramping boots and shouting deputies.

'This is the tyrant's lair!' yelled a
voice on the other side of the doors as the handles were seized and
wrenched violently to and fro. 'Open up, Robespierre ... Down with
tyranny

... The Terror is finished ... Long
live France ... !' The yells were punctuated by the crash of musket
butts against the doors.

The First Deputy stood behind his desk,
levelling his pistol at the shuddering doors, his whole body quaking
with fear. All at once the panelling split, the doors gave way and a
motley crowd of soldiers, deputies and sans-culottes burst into the
chamber, cheering and brandishing an assortment of weaponry.

Their leader ceremonially unrolled a
document. 'Citizen Robespierre, I have here a warrant for your arrest
issued by the Committee of Public Safety ... ' he proclaimed
loudly. The announcement was cheered with bloodthirsty enthusiasm.

Robespierre stood his ground.
'Traitors! They are all of them traitors!' he shrieked. 'Do not be
fools. They will never succeed in taking over the People's
government. They failed to arrest me in the Convention just now! They
failed!'

His hysterical taunts inflamed the mob
even more. They leered expectantly at their trembling victim and
advanced a few paces, forcing him back against the windows.

'Within a few hours I shall be as
secure as ever ... ' Robespierre boasted, his weak voice cracking
with emotion. 'The traitors will pay with their lives. Do not let
them make use of you. If you swear your allegiance to me now you will
all be safe. I will guarantee ....'

'Allegiance? Sounds like the old King
all over again!' scoffed one of the soldiers.

Next moment a shot rang out, deafening
everybody. Robespierre flung his pistol against the ceiling and
clutched at his mouth as blood, teeth and fragments of jawbone
spurted out between his clawing fingers. As his pistol hit the
ceiling it discharged, shattering the elegant chandelier so that
glass splinters cascaded all over him to the delight of the laughing
and gesticulating crowd.

'That'll keep him quiet ... We'll get
no more lip from him!' quipped the leader, rolling up his warrant and
motioning two soldiers to seize their hideously wounded victim. 'Come
on, Citizen. You're wanted at the Conciergerie!'

The jeering, jostling posse
dragged the wild-eyed, moaning First Deputy out of the
chamber. In the anteroom, Ian Chesterton and James Stirling stood
among the crowd, watching in horrified fascination as the Tyrant of
France was manhandled brutally past them, a horrific scarlet foam
flecked with teeth bubbling between his cupped hands.