by Griff Hosker
I was not sure if this was as a guest or a prisoner but I had now chosen these cards to play and I would have to play them. “That is most kind Major…?”
“Major Lafils and this is Sous Lieutenant Delacroix.”
I nodded at the Major whilst assiduously avoiding the lieutenant. He looked a little like Sergeant Delacroix and I had served with him in Napoleon’s Guides in Egypt. “And I am Robert Alpini.”
The young man said, “That sounds Italian.”
“Yes it does, doesn’t it?” I gave him a bland smile. “So shall I see you here in the morning?”
The major nodded, “We will be leaving at dawn.”
“As I said, major, I have done some services for Marshal Bessières; we will be ready.”
“We will take our leave sir.”
They left the dining room and headed out towards the river. From the worried look on Alan’s face he had understood some of what had been said. I smiled. I would explain all later. When the owner came, rubbing his hands after we had finished he had the smile of someone who thinks he has served the finest repast on earth. “Well sir, how was that?”
“Barely adequate but fortunately I was hungry. We will be leaving with the army, before dawn. I expect a hot breakfast at five thirty.”
His face fell. “Yes sir.”
“And my bill at the same time.”
Once in the room I explained to Sharp about our journey the next day. “Isn’t it risky sir? Going to the heart of their army?”
“Quite the opposite. If we had anything to hide we would avoid it like the plague. And I daresay the owner will be adding his own views too. I saw him speaking with the major just before he left. I hope I played the part of a self important businessman well. I want no suspicions before we reach Bessières. After that there is little point in deception for he knows me.” Sharp’s face reflected my own opinion. This was like walking into the lion’s den and expecting not only a red carpet but to be able to walk off with the lion’s dinner. I hoped Colonel Selkirk’s opinion of me was justified.
There was a tiny knock on the door in the early hours of the next morning but we were already up. We did not wish to miss the barge. The fog of last night had turned into a savage frost which rimed the river with tiny flecks of ice. It would be a cold day on the River Rhine. Fortunately the breakfast was much better than the evening meal and I happily paid the bill. The owner looked relieved that he had pleased me.
The major arrived alone. “You are ready?”
“Of course.”
He led us on the reverse of our route the previous night. I could now see that were just a handful of buildings by the dock and they obviously serviced the vessels heading up and down the mighty river. We had stayed in the only hotel and there were just two bars. A ship’s chandlers and police station completed the settlement.
The barge we were to travel upon was moored next to the dock while the others were in the river already. It was wide and it was long with two masts. It would travel slower than a man could walk but it would not need to stop. There were just a dozen blue uniforms on board and I could see, from the shapes below the tarpaulins, that they were hauling cannon.
The major let me on first. “Cabin accommodation is limited but it will be warmer than on deck. Follow me.”
We were in a small cabin at the stern below the rudder and the bridge. It was obviously the place where the crew would normally sleep but, having been commandeered by the army they had been ejected. The seats were functional but the major was quite correct. It was much warmer than on the deck.
As soon as we left the dock it was obvious why we had been invited on board; the major was suspicious of us. We were more prisoners than guests. I did not mind as I had expected this and I felt I would be given a much closer scrutiny at Bessières’ headquarters than on a barge. He plied me with questions about my past. They were all done conversationally but they were trying to find out more about me. I had prepared well and I deflected his questions without giving too much away. I let him know that I had served in both Italy and Egypt but not in what capacity. When he asked me about Sharp I told him that I had been in America but not how I came to be there. He was interested in that country and, I have to confess, I was forced to make much up. I was just glad he had never been there.
It was dark by the time we pulled into the shore. “We are here at Marshal Bessières’ headquarters. He was obviously not going to let me out of his sight. That did not worry me. He could escort me right up to the Marshal if he so chose. In fact that might make life easier. When we stepped ashore I noticed that the young lieutenant was also with us. There were signs that this was some sort of headquarters building as there were many staff officers and their horses. The presence of the Gendarmerie was also a sign that we were in the right place. I saw no faces that I recognised, which was a relief. I needed to get to the Marshal without being asked awkward questions.
As we approached the large building festooned with the Tricolour I began to feel slightly nervous. How would I be received by the Marshal? He might have changed. Certainly it was now a different world from the one I left all those years ago. We had an Emperor which would change things; I noticed that the uniforms I saw were more colourful and flamboyant than they had been.
The major walked right up to the sentry who stepped aside to allow us entry. He marched into the passageway and a moustachioed sergeant of the Gendarmerie opened the door for us. There was a major in the uniform of the Chasseurs à Cheval of the Guard there with a lieutenant. The major saluted and the major smiled, “Good to see you again Pierre. How can I be of assistance?”
“It is I who can be of assistance to you, Georges. I believe I have captured two spies.”
I now knew why the lieutenant was with us for a pistol was placed behind my head. I felt it pressing into the back of my skull. One false move and I would lose my head.
“Do not even think of reaching for your sword or you will die before we have the chance to question you.”
I had failed. I had not even made it to Marshal Bessières. I had been captured and, in all likelihood would be shot as a spy.
Chapter 3
“I protest and I insist that I speak with the marshal!”
The Major of Chasseurs stood and his face had a cold smile upon it. “Oh you will see the Marshal believe me but he is not here at present.” He nodded to the sergeant. “Lock them up but leave their cases here. We will see what we can learn from them. Oh, and before you leave us, your sword please.”
I unbuckled my sword and handed it to him. “Take care of it. I shall want it back before I leave.”
The major laughed, “Oh you are confident I will give you that.” He seemed to see the sword for the first time. “This is a fine Austrian cavalry sword. An elementary mistake I am afraid. We now know that you spy for Austria!”
I almost smiled. They knew nothing and had no evidence. We had just aroused suspicion by our arrival. As we were led away I realised that we should have tried a different approach and I had made a mistake. Next time I… Even as the thought entered my head I knew that there might not be a next time.
They threw us, unceremoniously, into a cellar in the commandeered building. There was just one weak candle lighting it and there were no chairs. All that I could see were some old packing cases. Sharp began to speak and I held my finger to my lips. I walked back up the stairs and peered through the crack in the door. There were two guards seated and facing the door. They were talking. I descended to Sharp and took him, with the candle to the point furthest away from the door so that we could talk.
I whispered, “Sorry about this Alan. It seems my carefully thought out plan failed.”
“How did they know sir?”
“I don’t think they do. I think they are just suspicious but that doesn’t help us.”
“At least there is nothing in the cases to give us away.”
He was right. The pistols that were there were French and the clothes had all co
me from France. “Have a quick search and see if there is a way out of here.”
We began to look for another door or, perhaps, a skylight. The cellar proved to be just that, a cellar to store cases the owners of the house no longer needed. It was damp and it was dirty. There were rats and mice racing around but, if they could escape through small holes, we could not. We sat on two packing cases to await our fate.
I had no idea how long we waited down there for no one came for a long time. I was pleased that we had had such a good breakfast that day. Eventually the door opened and light shone down. The sergeant who had escorted us stood at the door and said, “You two. Come up.”
“Ah you have realised your mistake…”
He laughed, “No, the major thought you might need to pee! He didn’t want to have you stink the place up.”
Disappointed, we followed him with the two guards and their bayonets firmly placed in the middle of our backs. We were taken outside. It was a cold and frosty night. There was small hut outside. The sergeant pointed. I opened the door and saw that it was a primitive toilet. There was a hole in the ground. As the door was closed behind me I looked, in the dark, for a way of escape. There was none. I sighed and used the toilet. I opened the door and, as I stepped out, checked the area for another means of escape. While Sharp was inside I looked around to see if there was a chance of overpowering our three guards and fleeing. These were professionals and they were far enough away from me that, if I had attempted to rush them, I would have died.
By the time Sharp came out I was quite cold. The night air was freezing. When we reached the cellar there was a tray with two stale baguettes and a jug of water. The sergeant smiled again, “From your fine clothes you won’t be used to bread and water but we won’t have you starving to death before we shoot you.”
I was grateful for the bread, stale or not. A hungry and tired man made mistakes and when we had eaten we lay down to sleep. There was little point in worrying. We just had to deal with the situation in which we found ourselves.
We were rudely awakened the next morning by a bucket of cold water thrown by two grinning guards. It had the desired effect. I saw the anger flaring in Alan’s eyes and I shook my head. They wanted us to react. I smiled and said, “Well that saves us washing, at least.”
This time there was a captain as well as the major and the sergeant in the office. Sergeant Sharp was left outside. I suspected that they intended using the divide and conquer strategy. The three of them sat on the other side of the desk and I saw that my sword and pistols were in plain view before me. They had given me a smaller seat than theirs so that I had to look up at them. It was pathetic really.
“Now then. Tell us who you are.”
“I told you I am Robert Alpini. My family has land in Sicily.”
“You are Italian then?”
“I was born in Breteuil. What do you think?”
“Then let us see your papers.”
“I have none.”
The major leaned back in his chair and spread his arms, “Then I can do nothing for you. On the grounds that you have no papers and we can find no record of your arrival in France you will be executed in the morning.”
If he thought to intimidate me he was wrong. “That would be a great shame for I have information which the Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte would dearly like to have.” It was my turn to lean back with a self satisfied smile upon my face.
I saw the frown pass across the major’s face. This was not the reaction of a man with something to hide. The captain slammed his fist onto the desk, “He is bluffing! He knows nothing!”
“But if I do and you shoot me then what will happen to you? In my experience Napoleon Bonaparte does not forgive easily.”
Even the captain was discomfited by that. “Then tell us and your life will be saved.”
“I will say this one more time; I will tell Marshal Bessières and no one else.”
The captain stood, “I have had enough of this.” He shouted, “Bring in the other prisoner!”
Sergeant Sharp was dragged in. “What is your name?”
We had agreed that, as he was playing an American there was little point in changing his name, merely his place of birth. His accent marked him as foreign immediately but it was hard to tell if he was English or American. I could tell the difference but I doubted that the two officers in front of me would.
“I am Alan Sharp of Winchester, Virginia, United States of America.”
If they had examined, as I expected they would, our cases they would have found a forged passport from Colonel Selkirk attesting to that fact. I saw the subtle nod exchanged between the officers. The major spoke in English. It was almost as bad as Sharp’s French but I think it was an attempt to win Sharp over to their side.
“Now then, Mister Sharp; our countries are allies. Your Statue of Liberty was made here in the land of liberty. Tell me, what is this vital piece of information which this man says he has?”
“I don’t know sir, I am just his servant.”
That was true. Only I had examined the papers and documents provided by Colonel Selkirk.
“If you are a servant then why stay with him. You could leave now and be on a boat back to America.”
“He saved my life sir, in America. I am duty bound to serve him.”
I could see that we had flummoxed them. Their ploy had failed. Then the major asked, “Where did you come from? Before you landed here?”
This would be the part where our story either saved us or doomed us. Over the meal in Colonel Selkirk’s home the three of us had debated and discussed this part of the plan more than any other.
“England, sir.”
The captain slapped his hands together gleefully. “There, I told you, he is an English spy! We should shoot him now!”
The major shook his head and spoke to the captain much as one would a child. “If he is a spy then he will have information, will he not. I think his servant has just saved his life and it would be folly to kill them now.” He looked at me. “Are you sure I cannot persuade you to divulge your information to me? The consequences will be that you will be returned to that rat infested cellar. Do you really want that?”
I looked him directly in the eye. “I can assure you major that I have suffered far worse than the cellar in the service of France. I will speak with Marshal Bessières and him alone.”
He nodded, “I can see that there is more to you than meets the eye.” He pointed to the weapons. These are the weapons of a soldier and, in your eyes I detect a man who, despite his youth, has been in combat. I hope, for your sake that you are telling the truth or you will be shot. Marshal Bessières is a ruthless man as I am sure you know.”
“I do sir and I look forward to becoming reacquainted with him.”
“Take them away!”
As we were led down to our dungeon once more I was relieved that it had been so painless. I think that I had planted the seeds of doubt in their minds. This was not the time to begin upsetting the new Emperor. We remained silent until the door was slammed shut on us and we were left to dim Stygian light and our rats.
After I had checked that the guards were not in close proximity we spoke of what had occurred. “Will they shoot us sir?”
“They might shoot me but your American passport guarantees you more time while they check on the truth of your documents.”
“But is it likely?”
I pondered that. This was the question neither Colonel Selkirk nor I could answer. It all depended upon Marshal Bessières. If he was the same man I had known all those years ago then I felt sure he would give me the benefit of the doubt. If, on the other hand, he, too, had been swept up in the Imperial fervour then he might have changed and then who knew?
Despite the major’s threat of more bread and water, we were served a hot stew with bread and a bottle of poor quality wine for our next meal. After the bread and water it tasted like gourmet cooking. We waited for two days in the dank and damp cellar. Shar
p improvised some dice and we filled the hours talking, quietly, and playing dice. After two days the door opened for we expected the routine of the walk to the privy or a meal. Instead the sergeant pointed at me and said, “You, come!”
I shook Sharp’s hand as I left. One never knew what might happen. No words were necessary; we had talked for two days and said all that we needed to. This time I was taken to a small chamber where there was a bowl of water, a razor and a towel. The sergeant watched me like a hawk as I first washed and then applied lather to my face. When I picked up the razor I knew that it was a test. If I wanted to escape I would slash the sergeant across the throat, seize his weapon and flee. I caught his eye and smiled as I began to shave. There was relief there and, I think, a little contempt. Perhaps he had wanted me to try to escape. When I had finished I did feel much cleaner. I now knew that I would be meeting Bessières. This chance to clean up had been to avoid offending his nostrils.
The first thing I noticed as we approached the office was the increase in guards and in the quality of uniforms. This was a Marshal of France and they were taking no chances. The door opened and I took a deep breath. The major and the others had been easy to fool but this man knew me. This man had fought alongside me. He had sent me on secret missions for Bonaparte and he knew what I was capable of. This would be a stern test of my story which now seemed both flimsy and inadequate.
He looked much as I remembered him although there were now flecks of grey in his hair. He was immaculately turned out and, even though I had washed, I felt dirty. The major was there along with a captain of the Consular Guard although, as I had been told, they would soon be called the Chasseurs of the Imperial Guard. Bonaparte had high ambitions.
Bessières was writing and he glanced up, briefly, “It is he. Give him a chair and brings us a glass of wine. Sergeant, we will be quite safe now. You may leave us.” He then went back to his writing and, when the door was closed, I was the subject of scrutiny from the other two officers. Eventually he finished writing and sat back. There was no smile on his face. “So what is this information you wish to tell me?”
