The Sultan's Daughter (10 page)

Roger's eyes had remained riveted on the cherubic, upturned
face. His throat seemed to contract and he held his breath in an agony of suspense as he waited to learn if this new development would prove the thread by which hung his life.

For a full minute, with a frown of uncertainty on his thin, bony face, the Chairman stared at his small, plump colleague, then he said, ‘You are right, Citizen, in that it might go hard with us did we make an enemy of General Bonaparte; but I count the risk of our doing so exceedingly small. We are all convinced that the prisoner is unquestionably a liar, so it is improbable that he has ever even set eyes on the General.'

‘Maybe, maybe,' replied the other. ‘But why should we take any risk at all?'

‘Ventre du Pape
!' exclaimed the innkeeper. ‘Surely you do not suggest that we should let the rogue go free to spy on us and sell our secrets to the accursed English; or that we should even send him to a prison from which he might in time escape and still do the Republic some serious injury?'

‘Besides,' the Chairman argued, ‘you say yourself that it is our duty to pass sentence of death upon him, and that being so———'

‘I did not say that,' retorted the little man, suddenly sitting up. ‘I said that it was our duty to send him to his death. It does not follow that we should make ourselves responsible for his execution; and I, for one, will have no hand in it.'

The innkeeper banged his great fist on the table and cried angrily, ‘What in hell's name do you mean by that?'

Simultaneously, the Chairman shook his head and said in a testy voice, ‘You talk in riddles, Citizen colleague. Put a plain meaning on what you have in mind.'

‘It is quite simple,' came the smooth reply. ‘In calling for water and washing his hands before sending the Nazarene to be executed, Pontius Pilate set us an admirable example. The prisoner declares himself to be a Colonel in the Army of France. Moreover, spies are normally court-martialled, as this one would have been had he been caught by a patrol of soldiers instead of by Coastguards. Therefore, in a double sense, this is a military matter. Let us send him to the senior officer in the district, with a message to the effect that after
giving him a fair trial we came to the unanimous conclusion that he is a spy and probably an
émigré
, and so deserving of death; but that on consideration we decided that he should never have been brought before this Court, so we are handing him over for them to deal with as they see fit.'

The innkeeper gave a great bellow of laughter. The Chairman smiled, patted the little man on the shoulder and said, ‘Most ingenious, my dear Citizen colleague. We will most certainly adopt your admirable suggestion.'

He then said to Tardieu, ‘Citizen Lieutenant, the Court is returning the prisoner to you. I charge you to deliver him safely into the hands of General Desmarets at his headquarters outside the town.' Turning to the Prosecutor, he added, ‘You, Citizen Corbiel, will accompany the Lieutenant, inform the General of the Court's reasons for sending the prisoner to him and give him a full account of all that has taken place here.'

Having so delivered himself, he gave the table one sharp rap with his gavel and declared the Court adjourned.

As Roger stepped from the dock a sigh of relief escaped him. He was not, after all, fated to be led but right away to be hanged, or to face a firing party. Yet he could not disguise from himself that his reprieve was only a temporary postponement of the issue. It was, too, an unnerving thought that he was to be brought before General Desmarets, of whom he had never heard, as a spy who had already been tried and convicted. Even so, he felt that his chances of living out the day were considerably better now that he was to be handed over to the Military. They would surely give a more considerate hearing to a man who claimed to be General Bonaparte's aide-de-camp and, vast as the French Army was, there must be officers or soldiers in the camp to which he was being taken who could if only they could be found, vouch for it that he was Colonel Breuc.

The strain of the trial upon him had been appalling, as he had not dared to relax for an instant in case he missed an opportunity to make some point that would have counted in his favour. Now he was so terribly exhausted that he stumbled several times when being escorted out to the small covered cart in which he had been brought to the Court.

His hands were again tied behind him and he was bundled into the cart. There was a slight delay while Citizen Prosecutor Corbiel was provided with a horse, then the little cavalcade set off.

Just before Roger had been bundled into the cart he had caught a glimpse of the Town Hall clock and had been amazed to see that it was still a few minutes before eleven. It seemed to him as though many hours had passed since Tardieu had roused him in the farmhouse bedroom that morning. While the trial had been in progress his mind had been so desperately concentrated on its twists and turns, for and against himself, that he had been only vaguely conscious of cold and hunger; but now, as the cart trundled out of the town, he began to shiver and could hear his stomach rumbling. Miserably, while the jolting of the cart again bruised his limbs against the hard floorboards, he longed for food, warmth and comfort, at the same time endeavouring to convince himself that the most dangerous stage in his ordeal was over.

Three-quarters of an hour later he heard a command ring out to halt. The cart pulled up and a soldier poked his head in over the backboard. Withdrawing it, he shouted, ‘You may proceed,' and the cart moved on through the gates of a big cantonment, which had been set up on the downs when the numbers of troops garrisoning the coast had become too large to be accommodated in the town barracks.

Five minutes later the cart pulled up again in front of a long, low building facing a parade ground, but only Tardieu and Citizen Prosecutor Corbiel entered it. Another quarter of an hour elapsed before the Lieutenant came out and had his men escort Roger into the building, then along to an office at the back that had a view across distant sand-dunes to the sea.

It then transpired that General Desmarets was absent from the camp and would not be free to attend to any business until he had returned and had his dinner. For the moment, Roger's affair was being dealt with by the General's adjutant, a pleasant-faced young Major, who was lolling behind a desk. When Roger was brought before him he looked at him with lazy interest and said:

‘So you are the Englishman and spy?'

‘I am neither,' declared Roger firmly. ‘This whole business is a ghastly mistake. I am Colonel Breuc and an aide-de-camp to General Bonaparte.'

The young Major sat back and roared with laughter.

‘How dare you laugh!' Roger cried indignantly. ‘This is a very serious matter.' Yet, could he have seen himself, he would have realised that his statement, coupled with his appearance, gave ample grounds for mirth. His unshaven chin was covered with unsightly stubble, his undressed brown hair looked like a bird's nest and his clothes, which had not been pressed since their immersion in the sea, hung as they had rough-dried, ugly folds and ridges about him. At that moment he could hardly have looked less like the Staff officer to a General-in-Chief that he claimed to be.

Recovering himself, the Major made him a mocking little bow. ‘I'm sorry—yes, let us call you “Colonel”; although I gather you would find it mighty difficult to substantiate your claim to that rank.'

‘By no means,' Roger replied firmly. ‘And I am relying on you, Major, to enable me to do so. In this cantonment there must be many men who served with General Bonaparte in the Army of Italy. I most earnestly request that you will have them sought out and confront me with them. I count it certain that a number of them will readily vouch for my identity. I pray you, too, to give heed to the fact that my life hangs upon your doing as I have asked.'

The young man's face had suddenly become grave. ‘Your request would be pointless did you not expect to vindicate yourself through it. The great majority of the men who fought in General Bonaparte's victorious campaign are still with the Army of Italy. Few of them have been transferred to us here in the north. But I will at once have enquiries set on foot for such as have come to us from Italy.'

After pausing a moment, he went on, ‘However, it will take some time to collect them. By then General Desmarets should be available and, no doubt, he will wish to adjudicate in this matter in person. Meanwhile, although it seems possible that I may have the pleasure of welcoming you to our Mess later in the day, for the present I am sure you will
appreciate that I have no alternative but to have you confined in the guardroom.'

Roger bowed. ‘Major, I am deeply grateful to you for acceding so promptly to my request, and for your courtesy. I have only one more boon to ask. This morning I was given no breakfast; so I am terribly hungry. Could I perhaps be brought something to eat while I am in the guardroom, and a pallet on which to lie, with several blankets, for I am both cold and desperately tired.'

‘Certainly you shall be provided with these things,' the Major agreed. Turning to an Orderly Sergeant who was standing by the door, he gave him the necessary instructions.

Under a guard of soldiers Roger was marched away to the guardroom. Ten minutes later, his hands untied, he was making a hearty meal of stew, followed by bread-and-cheese. He then lay down on a straw-filled mattress and drew a single blanket over himself. There was no need for more, since the room was heated by a roaring brazier.

At last the awful fears which had harrowed him since morning were lifted from his mind. Although a civilian himself, he had spent so much of his time with military men that he always felt at home with them. Once the young Major had grasped the facts of the case he had treated him with consideration and kindness. Even if there were no great number of men in the cantonment who had served with the Army of Italy there must be a dozen or more. A single one who could identify him would be enough to get him out of all his troubles. Confident that by evening he would be a free man again, he dropped asleep.

It was soon after three o'clock when the Sergeant of the Guard roused him and escorted him between two privates back to the headquarters building. They marched him through the room in which he had been interviewed and into a larger one next door. Standing there were Tardieu, Citizen Prosecutor Corbiel and the young Major. Behind a large desk sat an elderly man with a slightly pockmarked chin and grey hair that fell in lank strands on either side of his face. Obviously he was General Desmarets, and Roger put him down as an N.C.O. of the old Royal Army who had risen,
owing to the Revolution, by years of conscientious but unspectacular service, to this minor Command.

Giving a nod in the direction of Tardieu and Corbiel, the General said in a gruff voice to Roger, ‘These Citizens have told me about you. Three worthy Citizen magistrates have heard all you have to say and have decided that you are guilty of charges that merit death. You have advanced a preposterous claim to be one of General Bonaparte's aides-de-camp, and say that you served with him in the Army of Italy. We shall soon learn how much truth there is in that.'

His tone and attitude were ominous, but Roger remained optimistic. A door to a passage was opened by the Major and nine men filed into the room. Six of them were officers and the other three senior N.C.O.S Eagerly Roger's glance ran from face to face. Then his heart sank a little; not one of them was familiar to him. But he could still hope that some of them might have noticed him while he was in attendance on their hero, the General-in-Chief.

Briefly Desmarets questioned each of them about his service in Italy. All of them had fought there and had later been granted leave, on one ground or another, to transfer to the Army of the North. Roger had not joined Bonaparte in Italy until three months after the Armistice of Leoben was signed, and all but two of the men had left Italy before he arrived there. Of the remaining two, only one had visited the General-in-Chief's headquarters at Montebello. He firmly declared that he had never heard of a Colonel Breuc. All of them agreed that Bonaparte's aides-de-camp during the Italian campaign had been Marmont, Junot, Duroc, Lavalette and Sulkowsky.

General Desmarets shrugged his powerful shoulders. ‘There we are, then. I thought from the beginning this would prove a farce.' He glanced at the nine veterans of the Italian campaign and said, ‘I am sorry, Citizens, that you should have been brought here for no useful purpose. You may go.' As they filed out, he pointed to Roger and gave an order to the Sergeant of the Guard.

‘Take this man away and have him shot.'

Seized once again with terror at the thought of the fate now rushing upon him, Roger broke into violent speech. He
pleaded that other men who had served in Italy should be sought, explained that he had not joined General Bonaparte's staff until a few months before the General's return to Paris, and begged for a postponement of sentence until he could communicate with the General. But in vain. Desmarets ignored his outburst, the guards on either side of him seized his arms and hustled him away.

Back at the guardroom, the Sergeant told his Corporal to turn out the reserve guard and take over. Then he selected six of his men to act as a firing party. Just before they left the guardroom he took a spade from a corner, handed it to Roger and said:

‘Here, take a grip o' that. An' don't you dare drop it in a fit of the funks or you'll get a kick up the backside.'

Roger stared aghast at the spade and stammered, ‘What … what is this for?'

The Sergeant replied with a sneer, ‘Where yer bin all yer life? Don't expect us ter get ourselves sweaty making an 'ole for an English spy to lie comfortable in, do yer? Before sentence is carried out the likes of you 'as ter dig 'is own grave.'