The Lightstep

by John Dickinson

  Disconsolate, she ordered pen and paper and went to her room to write her acceptance. Then she penned a note to Michel, to let him know that men were expecting barricades to be put up inside the breach, but that this did not appear to have happened yet. At the foot of the note she allowed herself to add that she hoped to see him that evening. After that she went up onto the north east bastion of the citadel to see if she could still hear the noise of firing. She was not the only one. A number of officers, soldiers, and a couple of maids from the palace, were up there too, straining their ears to the wind. And yes, it was there: that dull, irregular noise, flowing down the chill north wind.

  Like a headache, it pursued her for most of the day.

  Gianovi received her in the Blue Chamber: a long, high-ceilinged room in the south-east corner of the palace. The great windows, unshuttered, were dark with night. The chandeliers were not lit. A few candles gleamed here and there, and a fire fluttered busily in a hearth. The light glinted on the polished dining table and on the three settings of silver and glasses laid at the end nearest the hearth. Footmen stood like statues in the shadows.

  'I fear my other guest may be delayed,' said Gianovi. 'But I believe you are already acquainted.'

  'We are, sir.'

  'He must be very busy,' Gianovi said. 'Still, we shall hope. Perhaps you would care to sit?'

  There was nowhere to sit but at the table. She took the chair at the head. Wine was poured for her. She sipped it, and looked carefully at the little man who seated himself to her left.

  He was unchanged. There were none of the marks of short sleep and frantic activity that she had seen on the faces of Michel and his officers. This was a man who was accustomed to workloads far beyond ordinary experience and who bore them lightly. He had not bothered with powder. His skin was pale, even in the lamplight. The lines around the eyes and little muscles of his face were clear, but they had always been there. His eyes moved quickly, or did not move at all.

  'Have you any news from the fighting, sir?' she asked. It did not seem the time to bother with the ordinary nothingnesses of conversation.

  'We know that a strong column of the enemy has made its way along the north bank of the river. Presumably what we heard was their attack on our positions. How it has gone, I do not know. We can only wait, and depend upon our dear Count Balcke to deliver us.'

  Balcke. She had forgotten that it was he who was commanding the army.

  'I am sure, sir, that we are depending upon all of them.'

  'Oh, quite. Now, may I entreat you to try some of these dainties while we wait? The palace master is so obliging to me when I ask for his favours, and really it must be difficult now for his people to come by such caviar . . .'

  It seemed to Maria that they were not waiting at all. They were seated, they were eating, the wine was poured. He was not expecting Michel to join them. Had he invited him at all? Yes, almost certainly he had. But he might well have known that Michel would find it difficult to come now. She should have known that too.

  She clung to the feeling that if she had invited Michel herself then he would have come, even if the enemy were already in the breaches. But that was useless. She would have to deal with her host alone. And she had already realized, even if she had not known it before, that he was the very cleverest man that she had ever met.

  Gianovi had no time for politenesses either. He talked about politics – grand politics and the manoeuvres of princes. He did not do it to impress or even to instruct. He spoke simply, as if he were an observer describing things that passed his window.

  'In a few years, I think, we shall look back and tell ourselves what fools we were, because we did not see what was happening. And yet it is very difficult to see, because so many things might be happening that it is hard to tell which will and which will not.'

  'Are you speaking of the siege, sir, or of the Revolution?'

  'Both and neither. This siege, immediate though it may be to us, is but a very small part of the whole. As for the Revolution . . .' He frowned. 'Its exponents did not take very long to learn the limits on idealism. It has lost its way, and must find a new direction. But what – or perhaps who – that direction may be is beyond guessing. These days there is much talk of Buonaparte . . .' (he gave the name its Italian pronunciation) '. . . However, until last summer, the same things were said of Hoche. I will not predict.

  'What I will predict, however, is that the Empire, a thousand years old though it may be, must also change. Indeed that when we look back we may realize that it has already changed, without our realizing it.'

  Maria scrabbled among the memories of conversations she had overheard in her mother's salons. 'You are talking of secularization, sir? The end of the prince-bishops?'

  'That has long been mooted. Also, I fear, the end of the independence of Imperial Knights. And at the same time, one imagines, the growth of the greater secular princes – Bavaria, Saxony, Wurttemberg and the rest. Perhaps they will even come to rival Prussia and the Emperor.'

  'But the Emperor will not permit such a thing. It would not be to his advantage!'

  'So we have told ourselves. I often think we fail to understand that there is a difference between a thing that will not happen, and a thing that has simply not happened yet. Yes, there has been an alliance of convenience – I put it no more strongly than this – between the Emperor and the prince-bishops. But now we have seen Mainz abandoned in exchange for Venice. At the same time we have seen the Rhineland abandoned too. That means losses for those princes with lands on the left bank. How are they to be compensated? The secularization of the bishoprics – ours included – suggests itself. A nice problem for our delegates convened at Rastatt. Meanwhile, as we chatter, the French continue to make facts on the ground.'

  'So . . . you do not believe the Emperor will help us?'

  'I have never believed it, and I have told His Highness so. Oh, the Emperor will go to war again. He cannot co-exist with this new France. But when he does, it will not be because a few thousand Germans cry out to him. It will be because he has English gold. He does not have it yet.'

  'A sorry thing, that Germany's pain should mean nothing to the King of the Germans.'

  'But what is Germany? When I hear the word Germany I find that it means only what the speaker wishes it to mean. No, pardon me. I do not mean to patronize. I am an Italian, and we are in no better case. But the present truth is that any German who thinks himself (or herself) a German has little to be proud of. Too many princes treat their subjects scandalously. I believe the only reason Germany has not itself fallen into revolution is that in Germany there is no Paris.'

  Maria frowned. 'Do you include your own prince in that, sir?'

  'Not especially. If I set aside this present situation (which has indeed come upon us largely out of his conviction) I find that he has meant well by his subjects. If I have a regret, it is that his attention has so often been taken by others. I am First Minister, indeed. And yet I have had to contend with many ministries other than my own: especially those I may call the Ministries of Family and of Favour, which demand so much of a prince's resources. Also important is the Ministry of the Night: the confessor, even the merest bedchamber servant, have opinions that they may whisper in a prince's ear when wiser heads are not present to urge caution; and of course the mistress, who owns a part of the man's very soul.'

  Maria looked at him sharply. She was sure that the word mistress had had more than one target. He smiled thinly.

  'What, after all,' he said, 'should one think of a state in which Family and Favour all avert their eyes from the sight of an ordained bishop practising incest?'

  'Indeed, sir,' said Maria sternly. 'In my family I believe we are careful with our words. But if you would tell me that we and others like us have been an inconvenience to you, I should say for our part we have sometimes had occasion to regret policies that have been advised by His Highness's servants.'

  His eyes flicked quickly, and his small, tigh
t smile was like a stiletto.

  'No doubt. We have hardly been kind to one another. And yet I suppose that you are aware that you and your family have cause to be indebted to His Highness's servants – particularly to his foreign servants, whom I suspect to be the butt of much that you have heard?'

  'I do not know that I am. But no doubt you will make me aware.'

  His shrug said that, if anything, he was a little surprised by her answer. 'Since you ask. The prime excuse for the arrest of Canon Rother-Konisrat and others of his party – I do not include here the Ingolstadt set, whose purge I feel was long overdue and undertaken only for the wrong reason – the prime excuse, as I say, was that they had entered a conspiracy with the Illuminati. The mentor of this conspiracy was a Doctor Sorge. So much was reported and acted on. What was also known, but not reported or acted upon, was the name of the house in which the first meetings were held.'

  The look in his eyes told her that he meant Adelsheim.

  Maria met his look levelly She had sensed that an assault was coming. Now it seemed to have risen from nowhere to be inside her defences.

  'You are saying that you suppressed this report, sir?'

  'I? No. I should not even have been aware of it. But I had an interest, and the man responsible for suppressing it had seen fit to requisition a clerk from my offices as a part-time assistant – which, after a suitable show of reluctance, I had allowed. I simply reconciled it with my conscience to pay the clerk a second salary. It is not a course I am generally in agreement with, but on this occasion I felt it justified. From then on I knew everything the clerk knew of his master's work. Which was rather a lot. The master in question has many qualities, but in some ways his mind is insufficiently – ah – devious for the world he inhabits.'

  His mind is. A foreigner, still serving the Prince . . .

  'You are speaking of . . .?'

  Gianovi inclined his head to the empty chair on Maria's right.

  'As I say, the report was never forwarded, and later it was destroyed. You are saying to me that he never mentioned it to you?'

  'On my word, sir,' she said, with a tremor in her voice. 'Never.'

  'I had wondered if it could possibly have lain behind the unusual dealings that appear to have occurred between you and him. He did not seem to me to be obviously capable of blackmail, and yet . . .'

  'No sir, he is not!'

  He smiled again at her firmness.

  'And, sir,' she added. 'I may say that I do not believe any such report could have had merit. My mother's opinions of His Highness's policies were well known. So too was her curiosity of mind, her interest in government and personal improvement, and her willingness to explore what dogma and fiat forbade. If this is enough to spin a story of conspiracy, then I must doubt very much the case against the unfortunates who have been charged with it.'

  'Oh, I agree with you. I fear it has ever been so with the Illuminati. It was the fault of the founder, Weishaupt, who had dreams far beyond his capacity to realize them. Unfortunately for his order, the Bavarian authorities took him seriously, and so have other authorities ever since. Sorge may dream the same dreams as Weishaupt, and with the same self-admiration, but with even less mental or practical capacity. In my opinion Baron Knigge was the best of them. Alas, he is dead now.'

  'You seem to know them very well, sir.'

  'I did say I had an interest. The report that our friend destroyed referred also to an Illuminatus high in the ranks of the Prince's government. That Illuminatus is of course myself.'

  For a moment she could not speak. He smiled again.

  'I make no excuses. In Italy I was a freemason, but I became dissatisfied with my colleagues and sought something better. The Illuminati, too, promised to work for the good of man. I was eager to learn their mysteries. Therefore Sorge knew of me and later, in his efforts to revive a failing order, sought to claim me. I burned every letter I received from him. Nevertheless, I still believe that the virtues to which the Illuminati dedicated themselves are good ones to live by, and I flatter myself that I do.'

  He paused for her to comment. She said nothing. To speak now would be to scuttle like a mouse when the cat plays with it.

  Why is he telling me this?

  'I tell you this so that you understand that I wish to deal fairly with you. Above all I wish you to understand that I am not attempting to compel you.'

  'Compel me? To do what?'

  'Not yet. I think we are not yet ready. But let me move closer to the matter. I have been watching our friend Wéry for some time. It was a curious decision of his to destroy that report. I wanted to know why. Despite what you say, it was a powerful weapon – and a coup for him if he had delivered it. It may not have been destroyed as a result of some bargain with you. But I feel sure that it was because of you that it was destroyed. This, as I say, interested me. Until that happened I had come to fear that he was incorruptible.'

  She drew breath sharply But she did not rise, or demand to be allowed to leave. Instead she put to one side her wineglass and signed to a footman for water. She could feel the drink humming in her temples, but she did not think it was too much. Her mind was poised like a fencer's. Now she knew who she was fighting for.

  'A strange thing to fear, sir,' she said. 'It is more usual to honour such a quality in a man. And indeed I may tell you he is worthy of honour in this, for I have myself seen him take great offence at the offer of a bribe.'

  Let us be honest devils with one another.

  The devil opposite her smiled again, and his eyes did not waver.

  'But the incorruptible quality is also to be feared. A thing which is more than human is for that very reason not human. I fear that Wéry is driven chiefly by hatred of the men who betrayed his own revolution. And also by an idea of – ah – heroism, that I think very dangerous. I find that the longer I live, the less I am in love with death. But with these young men it is different. Consider Hoche. Consider Buonaparte, with his flag at Arcole. They stride the dark fields with their young eyes and fierce looks, and men flock to their banners. I see it in Wéry too – although to his credit I believe that he lacks some of the selfbelief of these men we would make into idols. Nevertheless I think it has a place in his soul.'

  'That is the second time you have talked of souls tonight, sir.'

  Her interruption checked him.

  'You also said a mistress had a part of a man's soul,' she said deliberately. 'I understand that it is widely supposed that I am the mistress of Colonel Wéry. I am not. Since we are being frank with one another, I will confess to you that – that I have had some thoughts on the matter. Nevertheless, I am not. And even if I were, I would beg that you address him yourself, if there is something that you would endeavour to persuade him of!'

  'Ah. Yes. You detect my intention. Although, please be assured, I think of you only as someone to whom he might listen. If he had been able to come tonight, perhaps we could have considered the matter together. But I confess I had also thought that if he did not come you and I might usefully say these things to one another. As for approaching him myself, I am a little nervous. I know – again, I am not supposed to know, but I do – that he has orders to place me under arrest if he suspects that I incline towards surrender.'

  'And you wish me to persuade him for you.'

  'I wish you to consider the people who will suffer if he does not.'

  Now their eyes locked, like swords at the hilt.

  'Sir, you know that I know something of the loss war brings. My thoughts are indeed with the people who defend this city, and I returned here to be with them. But I have not heard that they wish to submit themselves to occupation. And I believe that His Highness could have chosen few men better to lead the defence than Colonel Wéry.'

  'Yes. Yes, I believe that you believe what you say. And of course you defend him. But dare I suggest to you that you also profit from this war? That you may have reasons – which with your waking mind you have not considered – for wishing t
hat it should take its course?'

  Her mouth shut like a trap.

  'How else,' he insisted, 'if there were no war, could you come to be in the citadel that he commands, and with no restraint but your own will?'

  'You are unkind, sir.'

  My Lady, I am desperate, said the voice of Ludwig Jürich in her mind.

  'I ask you only to consider it,' said the man who sat at her left.

  She drew a long breath.

  'I would honour this more,' she said slowly, 'if it came from one whom I thought of with honour.'

  Now it was his turn to gather breath and shift in his seat, because he knew she had rejected him.

  'And you do not?' he murmured.

  'It is not the first time, I think, that you would have used me as a tool. At the Candlemas Ball, as the Prince was about to defy the French, you sent me to speak to him of my brother.'

  'My voice had been heard and disregarded. That of the peace party had not. I seized upon its most able member, and the only one I thought had a chance of counting with His Highness. I do not think this dishonourable.'

  'Yet even this was not the first time, as His Highness told me. I think you must have done the same thing before. I think it was you that sent the Comte d'Erles to plead before the Chapter in September.'

  'Indeed. And do you know how I persuaded d'Erles – that famously selfish young man – that he must prevent his godfather from fighting for his sake? I outlined to him, in detail, the plan that our friend Wéry had composed for the defence of this city. The very plan that he is now about to put into action. Shall I tell you? He intends to fight . . .'

  'Within the city. For every street and church and guildhall. Yes, sir, I know.'

  There was a long silence, in which the only sound was the low hissing of the hearth. At last she said. 'You see, d'Erles has suffered for your persuasion. And we must still fight. Only now our honour is tarnished, and there is a hole in the wall.'

  Gianovi sighed. 'Honour? We know the truth about ourselves. The truth is that we are mites, and history is far, far bigger than we.'