by Barney Broom
“Animal lover too, huh, Swiatto? Almost like he knows you.”
Colonel Swiatto muttered an expletive as, pushing him, Dog nearly knocked him off his feet.
A door at the rear of the bar opened and a young woman entered. Dressed in travelling clothes – doublet and riding habit, Cosima crossed the room to her father.
“What the bloody hell did you have to bring him in for?”
“I didn’t plan it. He was with me when I—”
“You’re a dark horse, Swiatto. In the absence of an introduction, Count Anatole Byrenski of the Polish Light Infantry at your service ma’am.”
Byrenski clicked his heels. Cosima smiled.
“The pleasure is mine, sir.”
“You will excuse us, Byrenski. My daughter’s arrival is something of a surprise.”
Dog bounded up, keen to be in the familial mix.
“Compounded by her bringing our pet wolfhound along.”
“Your daughter, Swiatto? A brave girl indeed to come campaigning. I should say she was wise having some protection.”
“Dog’s about as much use as a pirate in a fair.”
Byrenski didn’t query how successful Bluebeard might have been hooking a toy duck from a goldfish bowl. Archie and Cosima retreated to a simple parlour adjacent to the inn.
“Swiatto?”
“Polish for light, I believe. It was Lumieré in France.”
Archie closed the door.
“So ‘Settings’ are relevant. Podric’s a genius.”
“What gives you that idea?”
“Being here.”
“If this is genius, you’re welcome to it.”
“Why are you so obsessed with alternative reality then?”
“Fair enough. You didn’t waste any time, I see…”
Cosima approached her father.
“UAR’s been good for you, Pa. It’s given you a new sense of purpose, another dimension.”
“Some purpose, some dimension – being able to live life in a computer game.”
“I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t give anything to experience what we’re able to – an alternative reality.”
At that moment the sound of wagons and troops was heard approaching. Archie pushed open a grimy shutter to reveal hundreds of men marching into the yard. Their horses pulled gun limbers and some light artillery behind them. He and Cosima watched as an escort surrounding a coach came to a stop. An adjutant opened the door of the dormeuse and the unmistakable figure of Napoleon emerged. The crumpled form bowed against the blustering elements; it was a different Bonaparte to the man Cosima had sat in their garden with at Drinkwell. Even catching a brief glimpse, the emperor’s face looked haggard and drawn.
“As escapism, yes, but it’s going to take on a whole new games aspect shortly.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.”
Napoleon entered the building. Aides and attachés scurried hither and thither. Soldiers evicted the local populace, who howled and cursed as they were forcibly turfed out into the bitter night. The emperor approached a revitalised fire and began to warm himself. He nodded to Count Byrenski, still at Prince Poniatowski’s side.
Senior officers and army commanders, including Oudinot, Davout and Prince Eugène, arrived. Napoleon was about to sit down with them when Dog came bounding up. An attaché immediately tried to intervene, but Bonaparte brushed him aside.
“Where you are, your master will likely not be far away.”
Cosima appeared. In spite of his fatigue, Napoleon’s spirits lifted.
“Chère fille.”
He kissed her hand. Archie/Swiatto approached.
“And here is your father – as a Colonel in the Polish cavalry, I see.”
Napoleon looked round at Byrenski.
“A colleague of yours, is he, Count? I’ll wager only a recent one…” Bonaparte chuckled.
“In what guise do you enter this campaign, my dear?”
“The contents of my valise suggest I’m some kind of government spy.”
Napoleon burst out laughing and turned to Archie.
“Like the one in Boulogne? Surely you games writers can be more imaginative.”
Cosima was nonplussed. The door opened and a blast of snow announced the arrival of another marshal. This time it was Ney. Mud and blood splattered, the lines of his face were etched with fatigue. Grasping Ney’s arm, the emperor’s attitude abruptly changed.
“Ney! Come! Warm yourself.”
Briefly acknowledging his colleagues, the marshal kicked a log and warmed his hands by the fire. It was Napoleon who spoke.
“The Rear Guard?”
“Here, Emperor. We were near-routed, but we bloodied them and they’re in check.”
“How long?”
“A few hours at most.”
“You have done well, Ney.”
“I have done no more than any general in your service.”
Ney felt his neck. A dried blood-stained bandage was visible beneath the high collar of his uniform.
“How is your wound?”
The marshal made a dismissive grunt and hunched nearer the fire. Noticing Poniatowski, he raised an eyebrow.
“He lives and makes for Warsaw.”
“We all strive for Warsaw, Emperor. The Berezina crossing?”
Napoleon nodded.
“We have a few hours to regroup. We dine, we plan, we move again at dawn.”
***
Whilst not comfortable, the rear parlour was less cavernous than the main saloon and although it was the small hours of the morning, Napoleon worked at a portable desk. General Rapp attended the emperor, and the only other person present was Archie, who sat with Dog. Most of the men arriving looked harassed and exhausted, but nearly all of them stopped to make a fuss of the wolfhound.
Sitting back, Napoleon threw down his quill and rubbed his eyes.
“How many people have you been since entering my game?”
Ignoring whose game it was, Archie smiled.
“Let’s see… First of all I was a naval lieutenant when we were with Nelson.”
“Ah, the British hero.”
“Then a captain in the Life Guards when you and I met.”
Napoleon studied Archie.
“You don’t remember because you weren’t programmed then. It was at the Siege of Toulon. I was a prisoner and you had been wounded. Indeed, as I told you when we met at Podric’s, I helped the doctor with your tourniquet.Then I was a quartermaster at Boulogne – but you know about that.”
“A spy!”
An aide appeared requesting a decision. Making it perfunctorily, Napoleon turned back to Archie.
“And Podric?”
“He was a midshipman first. Later, he played the Supreme Being during the revolution which seemed a bit esoteric to me, but you know Podric. Since then I believe he inserted himself into the monarchist gang who wished to assassinate you, thwarting their attempt. It was at the time he’d decided to programme you.”
“Ha. His arrival mélodramatique – and with the girl.”
“Surely, you would appreciate both.”
Ignoring Archie’s sarcasm, Napoleon studied his wrist. Less irritating now, the experience of what had happened to him held increased fascination.
“Your daughter claims she is following her father’s footsteps.”
“And as the possessor of information, you may find it interesting.”
Archie produced a piece of parchment.
“A coup has been attempted against you.”
Rapp was visibly startled. However, Napoleon showed little sign of surprise. He snapped his fingers impatiently. Archie passed Napoleon the folded sheet.
“The plot was organised by De Malet – a man you certa
inly mistrust. Other traitors include Generals Guidal and Lahorie – both of whom were imprisoned in La Force.”
“This paper – its validation?”
“If you study the watermark, three-quarters of the way down there’s a smudge. Moisten and it reveals the tiny seal of the double-headed eagle. The Emperor will be aware of the royal house using such a crest.”
“How did she get this?”
“You can ask her yourself.”
Archie stood up.
“Don’t forget Bonaparte, we know this coup happened. Activate the game and you can check it out.”
Napoleon considered the game’s creator, a slight smile playing across his lips.
“You wanted something more from your réalité alternative, I think…”
It was Archie’s turn to study Napoleon. For the first time since he’d met him, Archie sensed the genius that possessed the little general. He paced around.
“When we started out in UAR, I felt one might actually change things, alter history. It took Podric’s explanation and me some time to realise that whilst we have that opportunity inside the game, it’s just that – a game.”
“So is life, my friend. But perhaps you missed the point, the point of your creating a game around my life.”
The two men looked at each other.
“I play to win.”
Archie smiled.
“So do Podric and I, but at the time I wrote Napoleonic Wars, I didn’t know I would be a part of it. That makes things more personal.”
Dog stretched. Taking a turn around the room, he stood panting beside Napoleon’s little desk. The emperor stroked him.
“When will Podric come?”
“Why is that important to you?”
Napoleon stood up – all 5 foot 5 inches of him.
“Because, my friend, whatever this world we’re inhabiting is, I intend to beat you both.”
“You mean, destroy us.”
Napoleon shrugged.
“To be a great general, one must know many things about men, have an agile mind, be decisive yet flexible. But above all, one must have a vision, stratégie.”
Ney’s aide-de-camp, De Fezensac, burst through the doorway followed by Rapp.
“Emperor, we must hurry. The Russians approach.”
Two corporals began packing Napoleon’s field desk, chair and unslept-in cot.
“So, what happened with this campaign?”
“Ha. Russia is the curse of all… Your daughter – where is she?”
“Sleeping.” Archie was a second too late in his understanding.
“Seize him!”
Several soldiers appeared and restrained Archie.
“As I said, you must be prompt with advantage, know who to dispense with, and when.”
“What about empathy, frailty and error?”
“With these, you will not triumph.”
“Podric will be here shortly.”
Clutching a leather-bound document folio, Napoleon was propelled from the parlour by Rapp but called back over his shoulder.
“Then we will play to the finish!”
The scene downstairs was chaotic as men hastened in their efforts to leave. Grabbing anything they could, all food was taken, as was every last drop of alcohol.
Emerging from the inn, Napoleon stepped into his chaise. Accompanied by Dog, Cosima was brought round under guard. The driver whipped up the horses and seconds later they were gone.
Bending over Prince Poniatowski, Archie joined Count Byrenski.
“Ah, Swiatto or whoever you are. It seems the great god Napoleon has departed with your daughter, leaving you with us, the dispensable.”
Archie busied himself making the prince as comfortable as he could.
“I’m sorry there was no physician.”
Byrenski grunted.
“I approached our French comrades but they were busy with their own. However, I managed to persuade a medic to conduct a cursory inspection. He advised an operation was necessary.”
“How urgent?”
“With a week to home, if we keep travelling he should make it.”
“Better be on our way then.”
Picking up Prince Poniatowski lying on his rough stretcher, they headed for the door.
***
“My old man got me bail but his solicitor reckons I’m going to be tagged.”
Barney and Podric were in the groundsmen’s inner office. It had become Carol Jensen and Jane Cartwright’s new school hideaway.
After the methane blowback accident destroyed the school boiler system, Jane and Carol lost their exclusive changing room. Missing their privacy, Carol went in search of a replacement. One day she stumbled across the woodwork teacher, Mr. Czvnik, in a compromising situation with the new German groundswoman, Ms. Purzelbaum. The groundsmen’s inner office providing a perfect location, a deal had been struck. As a particular friend of Jane and Carol’s, Podric was allowed its use.
“Better than doing time though.”
A girl’s voice came from behind a partition and a second or two later, Jane and Carol appeared. Although surprised by the girls, neither Podric nor Barney seemed particularly bothered.
“What are you doing here, thuggy? Thought you were expelled.”
“Maybe I like getting your sporty knickers in a twist.”
Barney fiddled with his mobile phone.
The door opened and Catherine Halliday appeared. Already changed into sports kit, Jane and Carol were unimpressed by her arrival.
“Got a little meeting going here, Podric? Intruding on our space?”
Caustic, Carol went out. Jane, who had always been mildly flirtatious with the computer games wünderkind, shrugged as she went by. The door banged shut. Podric turned to Barney.
“Where are you living?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Your going into UAR is what it is to me.”
Barney’s face lit up as Podric continued.
“You know you need to be somewhere you’re not disturbed.”
“How about a cell?”
“Ha-ha.”
Barney thought for a moment.
“I can go to the parents’. No one’s usually there and if they are, I never see ’em.”
There was something unintentionally pathetic about this knowledge. Podric checked Barney’s wrist.
“I’ll text you the time but it’ll be tomorrow night, latest.”
The school bully turned to go but caught Catherine’s eye.
“You going in and all?”
“Try stopping me.”
“Have a party then. Where are we heading?”
Catherine looked at Podric.
“Yuh – where are we going?”
“Where do you think?”
Barney didn’t know but Catherine looked as though she might.
“Guess there’s only one place – a crossroads in Belgium.”
Barney still looked blank.
“Waterloo.”
26
Gathering Up
“So… the emperor and your daughter. What lies there Swiatto?”
The coach trundled along. Byrenski bit into a cigar. Archie didn’t immediately reply. Although initially panicked by Napoleon’s behaviour, he considered the situation.
Concerned about his daughter and her desire to experience Ultimate Alternative Reality, he’d immediately gone into UAR after her and now in the world of Napoleonic Wars, assumed the emperor had taken Cosima as a ruse to unnerve him. He also understood Napoleon’s intense desire to challenge Podric, though where that would manifest itself, Archie was uncertain. He supposed he should contact his partner, but was sure it wouldn’t be long before Podric put in an appearance.
With all this and mo
re on his mind, Archie turned to his Polish cavalry colleague and calmly relieving him of his cigar, lit up.
“I wish I knew, Byrenski but one thing’s for sure, the emperor’s losing this campaign and will be beaten.”
Byrenski was initially struck mumchance at Archie’s removal of his cheroot. Finally, he replied.
“You seem confident.”
Enjoying a little of the tobacco, Archie handed Byrenski’s smoke back to him.
“Oh, I am, dear Count. In this bleak world, I’m very confident indeed, though how I fare in my personal hors de combat with the great man remains to be seen. If nothing else, it will be interesting and, most likely, unorthodox.”
In Napoleon’s chaise several miles ahead, the emperor pored over papers. Despite fresh horses, the animals struggled along the track, covered as it was by yet another fall of snow. Sitting opposite Napoleon, Dog beside her, Cosima stared at the bleak landscape.
“Was coming here worth it? What did it achieve? Death and destruction…”
Cosima wasn’t aware she’d spoken aloud. She was surprised when, a little while later, Napoleon replied.
“In war, one cannot stand still. It has a dynamic of its own.”
Cosima looked at the emperor.
“So, there was no alternative to fighting?”
Napoleon looked out of the window but his eyes didn’t focus on the landscape; his gaze was farther away.
“When I came to power, France was a mess. A dissipated and corrupt monarchy was overthrown by the revolution which was itself chaotic. I have made France the greatest power on earth.”
“But not sea, and at what price?”
Napoleon looked at her.
“You speak with the benefit of history.”
“Which in Napoleonic Wars, you have the opportunity to change.”
“Supposedly it’s just a game, as Podric and your father never fail to remind me.”
“Didn’t you say life was?”
Speaking with intensity, Cosima leaned forward.
“Why not try and re-write it now? You’ve got nothing to lose.”
Napoleon’s eyes narrowed.
“Why should this be important to you? Your father and Podric will be challenging me.”
