The Man with the Lead Stomach (32 page)

The following day the news of the crime reached the capital and the reaction was either fear or scepticism. But as the investigation continued and uncovered new evidence, everyone was soon agreed that the Life Guard was a calculating rogue. The close interrogation to which he was subjected proved that he had conceived his evil plan as early as the previous October. It was discovered that he had had a scraper sharpened by a cutler from Versailles, and had used that to slash his clothes and inflict the cuts on himself. Those who were better informed put it about that the spineless brigand belonged to Madame Adélaïde’s innermost circle, since her weakness for converts from Protestantism made her incautious. At no point did Nicolas hear mention of any possible collusion between Truche de La Chaux and Madame de Pompadour. That whole aspect of the case seemed cloaked in secrecy.

On 10 January, Truche de La Chaux was imprisoned in the Bastille, then transferred from the state prison to the Great Châtelet for his trial. In fact the procedure should have taken place before the Grand Provost in Versailles, where the crime had been committed, but taking him to the Bastille had removed him from normal jurisdiction. There were no witnesses produced nor confrontations of the accused. Precedents were quoted: in 1629 a
soldier had been broken on the wheel for the same offence; in the reign of Henri III another man found guilty of the crime had been beheaded. Truche did not make use of his letters of nobility in order to be judged by another court. The Parlement of Paris by its decree of 1 February 1762 sentenced him ‘to be placed in a tumbrel in his shirt, with a noose around his neck, a torch in his hand and a notice to front and back bearing the words: “The impostor who fabricated an attack on the safety of the King and loyalty to the Nation”, to be paraded in this state in different districts of Paris, to make the
amende honorable
in front of
Notre-Dame
, at the Louvre and the Place de Grève, and having been subjected to preliminary torture to be broken on the wheel.’

The day after this sentence was passed Nicolas received a messenger from Monsieur de Saint-Florentin giving him verbal instructions to visit Truche de La Chaux, who was in the Conciergerie awaiting execution. The commissioner was somewhat surprised by the manner in which he received the order, which contained no explanation. He returned to Paris. His work at Versailles was in any case over and he now had to draw up his report about the King’s safety in the palace. The study had become even more important since recent events had revealed disturbing deficiencies in this area.

At the Conciergerie he made his presence known but was received as if he had already been announced and his visit expected. Jangling a bunch of large keys, the gaoler led him through the dark passageways of the prison. They stopped in front of a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron and fitted with a wicket. The locks were unbolted and he was let into the prisoner’s cell.

At first he saw nothing: only a dim light penetrated through a window protected by a grid of bars. Nicolas asked the gaoler to bring him a torch. The gaoler was reluctant: it was not the custom here and he had not been given orders to that effect. Nicolas overcame the man’s reluctance by offering him a coin; the gaoler hung his own torch on a ring in the wall and withdrew after shutting and locking the door. Nicolas could then examine the cell. To his left, on a bed covered with straw, lay a human figure, his feet clamped in heavy chains, the ends of which were fastened to the wall. His arms were also shackled by lighter, slacker chains that allowed the prisoner to sit up and move his hands. Nicolas remained silent for a time. He could not tell whether the man lying there was asleep. Going closer, he was struck by the change that had come over the Life Guard. Without a wig, his few strands of hair were plastered to his head, his face was greyish and hollow, and he had aged several years in a few weeks. His face wore an expression of deep despondency. His mouth was open and his drooping jaw trembled.

He opened his eyes and recognised Nicolas. He nodded with the semblance of a smile and tried to sit up, but Nicolas had to help him by taking him under the arm.

‘So, sir, you have been allowed to visit me. Despite everything.’

‘I can’t see why I might have been prevented from doing so. You are forgetting my function.’

‘You don’t know what I’m referring to. Are we alone?’ He looked anxiously towards the door of the cell.

‘You can see we are. The door is closed and the wicket is shut. No one can hear us, if that is what you are afraid of.’

La Chaux seemed reassured.

‘Monsieur Le Floch, I have every faith in you. I sense that you do not believe that my offence is as great as all that. You had the opportunity to arrest me before the event, before I committed my crime. You refrained from doing so, you took everything into consideration … That is why I asked to speak to you.’

‘Sir, I do not exonerate you from your crime. Make no mistake about that. Your offence is a serious one but I think you acted out of fecklessness rather than the desire to do harm. For the rest, I am at your disposal and ready to listen, provided that what you have to say does not impede the discharge of my duties.’

‘Can we make a deal?’

‘You are in no position to dictate conditions and I am not allowed to negotiate with you.’

‘Sir, do not be in such a hurry to say no. Grant a man who has only a few days, perhaps only a few hours, left to live, the favour of listening to him and, hopefully, with a little compassion, of understanding him.’

‘Speak, sir, by all means. But I make no promises.’

‘First of all I wish to prove my good faith. I imagine you are still searching for Madame Adélaïde’s jewels, are you not?’

From Nicolas’s startled reaction he could tell he had struck home, and the commissioner was annoyed with himself.

‘That may be so, sir.’

‘I regret what I did. The princess was always kind to me and my betrayal of her trust is inexcusable. Monsieur Le Floch, you already have the fleur-de-lis ring but the remainder of the stolen jewels are in the Life Guards’ barracks. Go there and dig into the plaster behind my bunk, under the wooden crossbeam of the cob
wall; you will find them there. Will you now listen to what I have to say, sir?’

‘Certainly, but I cannot promise you anything.’

‘That hardly matters now. I have nothing left to lose. Would you agree to take a message from me to the Marquise de Pompadour and to guarantee its safe delivery today?’

He lowered his voice as he mentioned her name. Nicolas remained impassive. What did this request mean? Could Truche have a last wish to express, a favour to ask? Knowing the relationship between the favourite and the condemned man, Nicolas wondered where his duty lay. He was not fearful of the consequences, but he did have the distinct feeling that acceding to this request might be beyond his remit. On the other hand, could he deny Truche de La Chaux, about to die a terrible, shameful death, his last request? He thought that he could not refuse. He also aware that he was in this prison cell not because he had chosen to be here but because Monsieur de Saint-Florentin had instructed him to come. He wondered how close the minister and the marquise were. Perhaps they had agreed that he should be their messenger to the condemned man on the eve of his
execution
. What did he risk? He would rather take the responsibility of passing on the information than have on his conscience remorse at having refused a man his last request.

‘Very well, sir. How do you wish to proceed?’

‘I am not allowed writing materials. Do you have any on you?’

Nicolas searched his coat pocket. There were the usual items: his black notebook, a black lead, a penknife, a piece of string, a handkerchief, a snuffbox and some sealing wafers.

‘Will a page from my notebook and this pencil do?’

‘Yes, they will.’

Nicolas tore off the fragile paper as carefully as possible, smoothed it out and handed it to the prisoner, together with the lead. Truche put the paper flat against the wall, and after wetting the tip of the pencil, began writing in very small characters. Nicolas noted that he did not hesitate as he wrote; he must have thought out well in advance what he wanted to say. He produced about twenty closely written lines, then carefully folded the sheet of paper like a letter. He gave Nicolas an embarrassed look.

‘Monsieur Le Floch, please do not misinterpret my next request: I only wish to protect you. It is better for you not to know the contents of this message. I know that I can trust you in this matter, but the recipient may not. So how can I seal my message?’

‘Very easily. I always carry sealing wafers and can give you one. You will close the message and sign across the seal.’

Truche sighed as if a great weight had been lifted from him. It seemed to Nicolas that in adversity the man had taken on a new dignity. Instead of an ordinary, rather vulgar person Nicolas now saw someone who was suffering but facing his destiny calmly. It was time to say farewell. Nicolas put the note in his coat. As he was leaving the cell, he spoke to the prisoner one last time.

‘Why me?’

‘Because you are an honest man.’

Nicolas knocked on the door. The key turned in the lock. The gaoler reappeared and retrieved his torch. The visitor turned and bowed to the prisoner, whose form had already merged into the shadows.

Nicolas had been afraid that some difficulty would arise,
preventing
him from seeing Madame de Pompadour, but it was not the case. As soon as he asked Monsieur de Sartine if he might see her, having given a full account of what had happened,
everything
was arranged for him. Without pretending to have to refer the matter to his minister, the Lieutenant General of Police urged him to go immediately to the chateau of Bellevue, where the favourite was in residence. He was certain that she would receive him immediately. He advised him to choose the fastest horse in the stables of the Hôtel de Gramont and to hurry to Sèvres as quickly as possible. Nicolas, by now well aware of the practices of those in power, suspected that behind the haste and the help afforded him in his mission lay the desire to conclude successfully some scheme whose meaning remained a mystery to him.

As soon as he arrived at the chateau of Bellevue he was shown into the marquise’s apartments. The lady received him in a white and gold boudoir, far too hot for his liking because of the roaring fire. She sat in a large
bergère
swamped by her flowing grey and black dress. Nicolas remembered that the Court was in mourning for the Tsarina Elizaveta Petrovna, who had passed away in St Petersburg the week before. When she saw him she languidly held out her hand, only to withdraw it immediately as she was seized with a violent coughing fit. He waited for her to recover.

‘Sir, I must congratulate you on the case that you have solved so successfully. You are entitled once more to our gratitude. Monsieur de Saint-Florentin has told us the story in detail.’

He made no reply but bowed, noting the ‘we’. He wondered if this included the King …

‘You wished to see me, I am told.’

‘Yes, Madame. Monsieur Truche de La Chaux, a Life Guard who has just been sentenced for the crime of lese-majesty in the second degree, asked to see me. In the course of our meeting he handed me a letter to be delivered to you. I did not think I could refuse a favour to a man who was living his last hours.’

She shook her head vigorously. ‘Is it not extraordinary, sir, that such a faithful servant of the King should agree to be the
go-between
for such an undesirable person?’

But a man desirable enough for the Marquise de Pompadour to entertain him, Nicolas thought. He needed to tread carefully now, but he felt the favourite was being disingenuous. He decided to challenge her.

‘The fact is, Madame, that this person acted for you at certain times in certain missions.’

‘This is too much, sir. I will not allow you—’

He interrupted her. ‘I therefore felt it to be in your interest, and that of His Majesty, for me to agree to pass on to you the note in which the guilty party might reveal some useful information.’

She smiled, patting the arm of her chair. ‘Monsieur Le Floch, it is a pleasure to cross swords with you!’

‘I am at your service, Madame.’

He handed her the letter. She examined it carefully without opening it.

‘You know what it contains, do you not, Monsieur le Floch?’

‘Certainly not, Madame. I gave Monsieur Truche de La Chaux the means to ensure beyond any question that its contents remained secret.’

‘So I see.’

She opened it with a flick of her fingernail and immersed
herself in reading it. Then with a sudden gesture she threw it into the fire, where it burnt instantly.

‘Monsieur Le Floch, I thank you for everything. You are a loyal servant to the King.’

Without holding out her hand, she nodded farewell. He bowed in turn and withdrew. As he galloped along the banks of the Seine he had the feeling that it would be some time before he saw the favourite again. The burden of what had not been said would now weigh too heavily upon them for any future meeting to have the same levity and openness as in the past.

Nicolas was drinking chocolate with Monsieur de Noblecourt, who was reading a newssheet, his spectacles perched on his nose. Cyrus sat on his lap, trying unsuccessfully to get between his master and what he was looking at.

‘What are you reading?’ asked Nicolas.

‘Ah! My dear fellow, it’s the
Gazette de France
. It’s a new publication that first appeared on 1 January and now comes out every Monday and Friday.’

‘What’s it about?’

‘Well, it’s supposed to inform the public what’s going on and about all sorts of discoveries, and secondly it’s supposed to provide a collection of memoirs and accounts for the historical record. That at any rate is what the prospectus claims.’

‘And what information is there today?’

‘There’s one item that will particularly interest you. Your Truche de La Chaux, Nicolas, was granted a rather strange
privilege. In the end his sentence was commuted and instead of being broken on the wheel he was merely, if that’s the right way to put it, hanged …’