[Marianne 6] - Marianne and the Crown of Fire

by Juliette Benzoni

  The understanding Jolival had released him very readily and so Craig had departed, begging the Vicomte to make his farewells to Marianne, having first paid his respects to the Emperor who had generously presented him with a horse, a royal gift considering the circumstances.

  His departure was a perilous temptation for Marianne. The word she had given seemed a fragile thing when every demon of disingenuousness was ranged against it. And, after all, she had not actually given her promise to Napoleon. She had only promised to try. But to try what? To give up once and for all the dream of happiness that she had carried with her for years?

  Of course, if one were honest, Napoleon was right. Marianne acknowledged that he had been both kind and clearsighted. She even admitted that in his place she might have said the same. More than that, she was prepared to concede that Jason's behaviour, in contrast, had been less than gentlemanly. But all the time her brain was trying to think sensibly, her heart was shouting aloud rebelliously that it had the right to beat as it listed and to follow blindly after the flight of a self-centred sea bird called Jason Beaufort.

  But now the heart's stubborn cries seemed to be growing more vehement, as if, deep in Marianne's being, another voice was beginning, timidly, to make itself heard. It was the voice that had uttered its first murmur as she looked at the portrait of the little fair-haired boy. Suddenly, superimposed upon the face of the baby king, Marianne had seemed to see another, darker child, and she had felt again the weight of a small, silky head against her breast and the soft grip of a tiny hand curled briefly round her finger. Sebastiano! For the first time since the dreadful night when he had been taken from her, Marianne found herself able to say his name. Where was he now, while his mother was struggling to find herself? To what secret place had Prince Corrado spirited him away?

  Marianne shook herself fiercely, as though to shake off a cloud of wasps that buzzed about her, and fell to castigating herself.

  'Just you stop romanticizing, my girl,' she told herself, aloud. 'At this moment your son is not hidden away in any secret place. He is fast asleep, like a fairy princeling, in a palace in Tuscany set in the middle of a great garden, guarded by snow-white peacocks. He is very well and quite safe there. He is king of a wonderful world and very soon he will be running and playing—'

  Her voice choked and was drowned in a sudden flood of tears, and then Marianne was crying into the musty pillow as if her heart would break. Carried along on the tide of events and sustained by the emotional demands of the endless journey, divided between fatiguing days and passionate nights, she had managed hitherto to keep the memory of her son at a distance. But now the Emperor's dire warning had ripped away the flimsy barriers she had so painfully erected and left her cruelly exposed to the real meaning of her voluntary renunciation. The truth was that the baby was going to begin his life without her, that she would not be there when he learned to laugh and to talk and that the word 'mother' would mean nothing to his baby ears. In a little while he would be discovering the use of his little legs but the hands that reached out tenderly to catch him would be Dona Lavinia's – or those of the man who, though he was none of his, had yet pledged himself to give him all his love, and even to love him for two.

  The agony was coming to the surface now, overcoming the temptation to run away, and in her misery Marianne could not have said which torment was the greater at that moment: the thought of the lover going ever farther away from her or that of the child whose love she would never know.

  She might easily have allowed herself to sink into one of the familiar troughs of despair which had so often caused her sleepless nights but for a sudden conviction that all was not well which roused her from her own unhappiness. She opened her eyes and sat up, and for a moment wondered vaguely at the light that filled her room.

  Jumping out of bed, she ran to the window and uttered a startled cry. The unwonted brightness, lighting the place like daylight, was the city of Moscow burning. Two huge fires, out of all proportion to what had been seen so far, had broken out to the west and south and, driven by the wind, were spreading rapidly, eating up the wooden houses like so much chaff.

  At that moment, her godfather's warning came back to her. How could she have forgotten it? Marianne dressed quickly, slipped on her shoes and hurried from the room. The darkness and silence of the palace were oppressive. A single lamp burned on the landing and all was quiet and peaceful, except for the loud, regular snoring from the door next to her own which told that Jovial was sleeping soundly. The city was burning but no one seemed aware of it.

  Determined to raise the alarm, Marianne flung herself down the stairs and along the great gallery where sentries stood on guard. She ran towards the door of the imperial suite and had almost reached it when she saw Caulaincourt also, it seemed, making for the Emperor.

  'Thank God you are here, Duke! I was beginning to fear that no one in the palace was awake. The city is burning and—'

  'I know, Princess. I have seen it. My man woke me five minutes since.'

  'We must warn the Emperor!'

  'There is no hurry. The fire looks serious but it is not threatening the Kremlin. I have sent my servant to rouse the Grand Marshal. We will consult with him what is best to be done.'

  The Grand Ecuyer's calmness was reassuring. Marianne had met him for the first time the previous evening, for at the time when she had been much in the Emperor's company Caulaincourt had been ambassador to Russia, where he had remained until 1811. But she had felt an instant liking for the courteous, intelligent aristocrat who, with his intellectual good looks and perfect manners, was somewhat different from the usual run of the Emperor's associates. Moreover she was sorry for his grief over the death of his brother, killed at Borodino, and respected the courage which prevented him from showing it.

  With a sigh of resignation, she sank down on a seat covered in Genoa velvet and raised to his a face so tragic that he was forced to smile.

  "You are very pale, Madame, and I know that you are barely recovered from a recent injury. You should go back to bed.'

  She shook her head. The great wall of fire that she had glimpsed from her window was still before her eyes and her throat felt stiff with terror.

  'I can't. Oh, warn the Emperor, I implore you! The whole city is going to burn, I know it is. I am quite certain – I have been told so.'

  'Who could have told you such a thing, Marianne, my dear?' Duroc's voice spoke sleepily behind her. He had evidently been dragged ruthlessly out of his first sleep.

  'A priest – a priest I met the day before yesterday at St Louis-des-Français when I sought refuge there. He warned me – he warned all of us there, to fly and leave the city! It is doomed! Rostopchin threw open all the prisons and let out the dregs of the city. They have been given drink and money to set Moscow on fire!'

  'But this is absurd!' Caulaincourt broke in. 'I know the Russians—'

  'You know the diplomats, Duke. You know men like yourself. You do not know the Russian people. They have been leaving for days past, abandoning the city, their holy city. And the Governor has sworn that Moscow will not remain in your hands, and that he will use any means to prevent it.'

  The eyes of the two officials met over Marianne's head.

  'Why did you not tell us this before?' the Grand Marshal asked at last.

  She shrugged. 'I tried to. I tried to warn the Emperor but he would not listen. You know how he is. But now we must save him. I swear to you that he is in danger. Wake him! Wake him, or I will do so myself!'

  She rose and was already making for the closed door when Caulaincourt caught her arm.

  'Calm yourself, Princess, I beg of you. Things have not reached such a pass yet. The Emperor is exhausted. For three nights he has not slept and the days have been hard. Let him rest a little longer, and you try to do the same. Listen, this is what we will do. You, Duroc, send to the Governor for news and have the Guard stood to arms. I am going to obtain a horse and ride out to see how matters stand, get tog
ether such help as I can. Something must certainly be done without delay. Ail available troops shall be mobilized to fight the fire.'

  'Very well. Only don't ask me to go back to bed, for I could not. I could never sleep.'

  'Come in here, then,' Duroc said, opening the door leading to the imperial antechamber. 'I'll leave you in Constant's care while I give the necessary orders and then I'll come back to you.'

  'This is ridiculous,' Caulaincourt said. 'The lady—'

  'I know the lady,' Duroc interrupted him. 'She is an old friend and I can promise you, my dear duke, that, with the exception of the Emperor himself, I know of no one more generally level-headed. Go and do what you have to do, and so will I.'

  In the antechamber, they found the Mameluke, Ali, with two or three of his fellows, engaged in a fierce argument with Constant. Napoleon's valet was doing his best to calm them but they, like Marianne, appeared to be intent on waking the Emperor.

  Duroc, with a few words, despatched them to their beds again, assuring them that they would be sent for at need.

  'We will not wake His Majesty just yet,' he added firmly. 'He needs his sleep. And you are making noise enough to wake the dead.'

  Constant lifted his shoulders philosophically and permitted himself a smile.

  'The Grand Marshal knows that the court and the army are all alike. As soon as anything happens, they are lost unless the Emperor is there in person to assure them that all is well.'

  'He can scarcely tell them so tonight,' Marianne said sharply. 'And if I were you, my good Constant, I would begin packing up His Majesty's belongings. You never know. And things might move faster than you think. What time is it?'

  'A little before eleven, your Highness. May I suggest that your Highness should wait in the saloon until the Grand Marshal returns? It is a trifle damp, I fear, but there is a fire and the chairs are quite comfortable, and I will bring you a nice cup of coffee.'

  Marianne smiled at him, marvelling at the way in which he managed to be invariably calm and efficient and as point-device as if he had just spent an hour getting dressed. He was, beyond all doubt, the perfect servant.

  'A fire's the last thing I want to see tonight, Constant,' she said, 'but the coffee will be welcome.'

  The saloon in question was an enormous room, divided into two halves by a massively pillared arch, the space between the walls and the pillars being filled by a pair of bronze tripods. The lavish gilding on both walls and pillars was dulled and tarnished with age. Sofas and armchairs were scattered about the floor and in one corner hung the inevitable icon in red and gold, depicting an emaciated Virgin with enormous eyes. Great, dusty carpets formed a pattern of islands on the black marble floor.

  Marianne wasted little time in contemplation of the furnishings.

  While she waited for the promised coffee, she went to the windows and pressed her face against the glass and stared out at the threatened Russian capital. The wind was gusting strongly between north and west, driving the flames towards the centre of the city and sending showers of sparks blazing down on those houses that were still intact, so that they very soon became a source of fresh fires. The demon of fire had Moscow in its grip and none could say whether that grip could be prised loose.

  The coffee arrived at the same time as Duroc and the two friends drank it in silence, each locked in their own thoughts and doing their best to hide their uneasiness. Although they did not know it, the thoughts of the Princess and the Grand Marshal were identical. The city on which, in their different ways, each had pinned such great hopes, now seemed to them like a pair of jaws closing inexorably on the fragile human figures within.

  At about half past twelve, another fire broke out in a district which had been dark until that moment. It was followed by another.

  'The fires are spreading,' Duroc remarked, and his voice was strangely hoarse.

  'The circle is closing. Oh, I beg you, my friend, wake the Emperor while there is still time. I am frightened, terribly frightened. These people have made up their minds to leave no stone of Moscow standing.'

  Duroc jerked his head angrily. 'No, it's not possible! You can't set fire to a whole city, not a city the size of this one! You are afraid because a few outlying districts are on fire but our soldiers are dealing with it. They will soon catch the incendiaries, if such there are.'

  'Don't you believe it even now? You are all blind! I have been trying for hours to make you understand your danger and still you are half inclined to think I must be mad! I feel like Cassandra trying to make the Trojans see sense.'

  But at the sight of Duroc's dubious expression she abandoned her classical similes. Obviously Troy was a long way from his thoughts and Cassandra the last person he wished to talk about. In any case, Caulaincourt's return turned the conversation into other channels.

  The Duke of Vicenza's person was liberally adorned with soot and his uniform was pockmarked with tiny burns from flying sparks. Under his frowning brows, his eyes were very grave.

  'It's a bad business,' he admitted. 'I've taken a good look all round the Kremlin and I think we are in for some unexpected excitement. The fire is gaining on all sides. There are fresh outbreaks to the north and the wind is rising steadily. But worse than that—'

  'Worse,' Duroc said glumly. 'I don't see that there can be much worse!'

  'The fire engines. There aren't any to speak of. And those we have found are unusable.'

  'And doesn't that convince you that what I heard is true?' Marianne cried frantically. 'Good God, what more do you need? I've told you again and again that all this has been planned, deliberately organized down to the smallest detail. The Russians themselves are setting fire to Moscow on the orders of their governor. But you still won't listen to me! Why won't you escape? Wake the Emperor and—'

  'And run?' Caulaincourt finished for her. 'No! We have not been at such trouble and sacrifice to come here, only to run like rabbits on account of a bit of a fire. It's not the first time we've had houses burned in our path—'

  'But I daresay it's the first time they've been burned over your heads. I'm sorry, though, if I have said anything to open painful wounds. I am thinking only of the Emperor's safety and that of his army, Duke.'

  'I know, and believe me I bear you no ill will.'

  Repressing the movement of her shoulders which would too clearly have betrayed her irritation, Marianne moved away. She thought gloomily that this was just one more instance of the impossibility of preventing men from running headlong on their fate. Duroc, meanwhile, was seeking more information.

  'How are things in the city?' he asked.

  "The troops are standing to. As to the civilian population, for incendiaries they are behaving very oddly, abandoning their homes and crowding, weeping, into the churches which are packed to overflowing.'

  'And here?'

  'Everyone but the Emperor is awake. The gallery is filled with people in a state of great alarm. There is general anxiety and, if you ask me, panic is not far away. Little as I wish to, I fear it may be time I woke His Majesty.'

  'So I should hope!' Marianne could not refrain from exclaiming.

  Caulaincourt turned to her severely.

  'The situation demands it, Madame. But we do not go to the Emperor in order to persuade him to fly. It is merely that, as it has done before, his presence may reassure all those in the palace who are allowing their fears to get the better of them – you, most of all, Princess.'

  'I am not giving way to panic, Duke, whatever you may think. Simply that when disaster threatens I think it best to inform the master of the house. What time is it now?'

  'Almost four o'clock. Go, then, Duroc.'

  The Grand Marshal approached the imperial bedchamber, the door of which was already being held open for him by Constant. Meanwhile Marianne, reluctant to remain with Caulaincourt, who was quite clearly out of sympathy with her, decided to go in search of Jolival and Gracchus. The noise was now such that they could not be still asleep and, since neither o
f them was an emperor, they were probably wide awake and worrying about her.

  But she had no need to return to the floor above. She had no sooner entered the gallery, which was crowded with officials, soldiers and servants of the imperial household, when she saw Jolival. He was sitting on a bench against the wail and standing on tiptoe on the seat beside him was Gracchus, staring over the heads of the crowd as though looking for someone. At the sight of Marianne both of them gave vent to exclamations of relief.

  'And where the devil have you been?' Jolival fumed, his fear transforming itself into bad temper. 'We were beginning to wonder if you weren't somewhere in that sea of flames trying to—'

  'Trying to run away? To reach the road to St Petersburg? Leaving you here, of course? Surely you know me better than that, my friend?' Marianne said reproachfully.

  "You would have every excuse for it, especially as you knew Gracchus was with me. You might have chosen your freedom and a flight to the sea.'

  She gave him a small, sad smile and, slipping her arm round his neck, kissed her old friend impulsively.

  'Come now, Jolival! You know quite well that you and Gracchus are all I have left now. What should I do on the road to Petersburg? I am not even wanted. At this moment, Jason is thinking only of the ship which will take him back to his beloved America, and to the war and – and everything that stands between us. Do you really expect me to go running after him?'

  'Was there no temptation to? Not even for a moment?'

  Marianne answered him unhesitatingly.

  'Yes,' she said, 'to tell the truth there was. But I thought better of it. If Jason wanted me as much as I want him, he would be here, in Moscow, at this very minute, looking for me, calling my name at the top of his voice.'

  'How do you know he isn't?'

  'You need not play the devil's advocate, my friend. You know as well as I that he is not. Jason is riding away from us, you may be sure. Really, it's nothing more than I deserve. I was a fool. Why did I have to get him out of prison in Odessa and follow him here? If I had left him with Richelieu, he would have stayed quietly where he was all through his country's wretched war with England, unless, of course, he managed to escape. But I opened the cage door myself and, like any wild bird, he flew away and left me. It serves me right.'