'Yes, very much.'
'And she will return, after the king has gone?'
'I had better say nothing more.'
'You don't trust me?'
'The less each of us knows about the other the safer we shall be.'
'Those are not your words, though. They are Monsieur Félix's words, are not they?'
'Hush. Let us not talk of these things, when we have so little time left.' She leaned and kissed him, but he drew back a little, and:
'I am greedy. I want more time.'
'My love, we must attend to our duty, and save the king. That is all that—'
'I will like to save you.' And he kissed her, began again to drown in her.
Crack! Crack-Crack! Crack-crack-crack!'
Echoing across the stone wall and courtyard below.
James leapt off the bed, ran to the window, and was shocked by a hole punched through the glass by his head, and splinters of wood flying all round him as the musket ball smashed into the casement. He fell back, and felt stinging where fragments of glass had cut his face and neck.
'James!' Running naked to his side.
'Keep down, keep away from the window!'
Crack! Crack-crack!
Another ball exploded through the window, shattering the entire pane, and ricocheted along the wall with a fizzing whine.
James hopped and stumbled, pulling on his clothes and shoes. 'Have you the key, Juliette?'
She pulled on her own clothes, and he was fleetingly aware of her breasts and unpinned hair as she struggled to button and fasten. Fleetingly but intensely aware of her sheer physical allure. As she found and held out the key, pushing back her hair, he thought:
'I cannot bear to lose her.'
And he took the key, unlocked the door, and ran with her, hand in hand down the long stone stair, as further shots rang across the courtyard. Shouts echoed, the whinnying shriek of a horse in mortal pain, and the screams of men.
Juliette, panting by his side as they ran along a passage into the great hall: 'We must save the king!'
M. Félix met them in the doorway at the far end, his gaunt face very pale and grim. If he was surprised to see James with Madame Maigre he gave no hint of it. Tersely:
'The National Guard surround the house. Somehow they have discovered that the king is here. There is no hope of fighting them, or even holding them off – they are too many. We will use the passage to go out undetected.' Turning and leading the way along a narrow corridor.
'Passage?' James followed him with Juliette, still holding her hand.
'There is an underground passage leading to the heart of the wood behind the house. We will wait in the passage until nightfall, then come out into the wood, and go to the beach at the Pointe de Malaise.'
More shots from without.
'The gate will soon be smashed down, and the loyal platoon overcome. They must find their luck where they may, we cannot aid them now. The stable is already overrun, and we must go into the passage.'
'Is the platoon well armed?' James, as they hurried to the end of the corridor.
'With muskets and pistols only. There are over a hundred National Guard troops outside the walls. They may well have a field gun, to shatter the gate.'
As they came to the narrow doorway at the end of the corridor, James took M. Félix's arm.
'Juliette – Madame Maigre – cannot now return to the château from the beach, Monsieur Félix. Nor can I. Will you give me your word that we may go into the boat, and then into Expedient?'
Pulling free his arm. 'There is no time for that now, for God's sake.'
James seized his arm again, and spun round him with all his sailor's strength: 'Give me your word.' Fiercely.
'Very well, Englishman. You may have it, I suppose.'
*
'Our destination on the coast is three leagues due east, sir, but I fear mist is rolling in from the west.'
Captain Rennie, having kept the deck without a break five watches through, had returned from his cabin after a deep, necessary and refreshing sleep. He glanced to the west, and saw a bank of fog on the water.
'Thankee, Tom.' To Lieutenant Makepeace at the binnacle.
Rennie looked aloft, and again west, and asked for the direction of the wind, the speed and direction of the ship, and what canvas had been bent, or put in the brails, in the last glass or two. His first lieutenant told him, reading from his notations as the duty midshipmen prepared for the changing of the watch. Rennie listened, nodded, again glanced aloft, and paced to the tafferel, where he brought up his long glass. Away to larboard the Pointe de Malaise rose black and clear in the early evening light, and the islets that lay just offshore – but for how long? The setting sun would soon be obscured behind that bank of fog, the fog would roll relentlessly on, and envelop the ship, the surrounding sea, the scene entire. Expedient was already late at the rendezvous. Should he risk standing in, now?
'I do not wish to go aground in fog and darkness.' To himself. 'But I must do everything I can to make the rendezvous tonight.'
If the fog became dense, no signals would or could be seen, and the rendezvous must be postponed at least another day.
'We will tack east a further league, Mr Makepeace, if y'please. If the fog keeps pace with us, or indeed overhauls us, then we must anchor and wait.'
'Very good, sir.' To the helmsman: 'Due east, on my command.' Raising his speaking trumpet, and walking forrard a few paces: 'Stand by to tack ship!' And shortly after, calling aft: 'Starboard your helm!'
Expedient duly swung east in a graceful curve. The fog followed. Before the ship had sailed even half a league the fog overtook and enveloped her, and Rennie ordered the ship to heave to, and anchor. She lost way, maintopsail aback, and presently:
'Let go!'
The stopper let go, and the bower falling with a splash and a thrumming whine of cable.
Expedient, her sails brailed up – all but her mizzentop that now lay aback – came to a stop in the shrouded sea, and lay still.
'Mr Tangible.'
'Sir?'
'Y'may pipe hammocks down.'
The echoing notes of the call along the deck, and Rennie took a great sniff of misty sea air, turned to his first lieutenant, and:
'Will ye join me for supper, Tom? And we'll drink a glass or two to keep this damn' mist at bay.'
'Gladly, sir, thank you.'
ELEVEN
The underground passage was low, narrow, and smelled of earthen damp. Tendrils of something James could not identify hung from the curved arch of the roof. Slime? Weed? Cobweb? The royal party was some distance ahead, a huddled group protected by a core handful of troops. The glow of their lanterns was too low for James to be able to make out faces distinct, or even precise numbers. The dripping quiet – down here all sound of battle and invasion was blocked out – was broken only by subdued murmurs of conversation in the dim light.
Presently word came back to the group at the rear – James, Juliette, M. Félix and Serge – that the royal party wished to move forward. The soldier who had brought the message returned to the party ahead, and M. Félix nodded:
'We cannot wait here in the tunnel. We must leave the château at once, and go into the wood. Serge, you will remain here at the rear. I will go forward to Their Majesties, and guide them.'
M. Félix advanced along the tunnel, and with much bowing and murmuring took his place at the head of the royal party. Presently the two groups, still separated by considerable distance, moved ahead. They walked perhaps three or four hundred yards, twice negotiating dog-leg bends, and came to a steep and narrow stone stair at the end. One of the soldiers went up the stairs and was lost to view. Presently all those in the dingy tunnel felt an exhilaration, a sense of immediate relief and release, and James realised that the cause was fresh air. He had frequently experienced the same sensation at sea, coming on deck to take his watch after a prolonged period below in the oppressive air of bilge stink and the odour of unwashed bodies mass
ed together in the hammock rows. The smell in the tunnel was not of too many bodies, but of too many days and months and years of dripping, bricked-in airlessness.
A brief delay, then a message came back. Fog had rolled in from the sea, thick and heavy, and there was no possibility of embarking tonight at the Pointe de Malaise, or even of finding it.
James advanced toward the royal party, seeking to consult with M. Félix. His way was blocked by a soldier with a musket, bayonet fixed.
'No, monsieur, you will come no further.'
'But I wish to speak to Monsieur Félix. It is most important—'
'You may speak to me, monsieur, and I will give him your message.'
Even though this man was in the uniform of an ordinary foot soldier, James was certain that he was addressing an officer. The man's bearing said so, and his educated voice.
'And you are ... ?'
'Monsieur?'
'Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lieutenant Hayter, RN.'
'Then it is your ship that will take us out?'
'Yes, the Expedient frigate.'
A nod. 'You will understand, under the circumstances, that I am not at liberty to reveal my rank to you, Lieutenant, nor my name – but yes, I am an officer in the service of His Majesty.'
'Then you will readily understand, in turn, that we cannot remain here in the tunnel. We must leave the château altogether, and go into the woods. If we remain, the inner entrance of the tunnel will almost certainly be discovered, and we should face certain death. The National Guard have at least one hundred men, well armed. We are but a few, with few weapons.'
'There is a dense mist outside, Lieutenant. We could not find our way to the shore, and your ship will not send a boat in such conditions. We—'
'We must take our chance in the woods, or perish like rats in this dungeon.' Forcefully.
'You may not talk of Their Majesties in such terms, Lieutenant, while I have the honour to protect them.'
'I apologise. It is my wish, as much as it is your own, to protect Their Majesties. We must go up out of this tunnel, and make an attempt to reach the inlet at the Pointe de Malaise. The fog will eventually lift, and then the boat will come. If we stay here, the—'
'You are not in command, Lieutenant.' Over him. 'Kindly allow us to know what is best for Their Majesties' welfare. Please to rejoin your group at the rear, now.' A jerk of the head.
'Do not you see? The fog will certainly confuse those National Guard troops, just as it will hide us from—'
'It is you who do not see, Lieutenant. Be silent, if you please, and allow me to do my duty.'
James was beginning to despair of this officer when he saw M. Félix approaching from the end of the tunnel. He addressed him directly:
'Monsieur Félix, are you in command of the royal party's escort? Of this enterprise altogether?'
'I am.'
'Then I beg you – let us go out of the tunnel now, make our way through the mist to the lane beyond, and on down to the shore. We must make the attempt.'
'The fog is far too thick.' With finality, pointing to the stair, from which eddies of mist could be seen descending in the dim lantern glow. Turning back to James and cutting him off before he could continue. 'We must therefore wait here, below ground. When the National Guard have searched the château without success, they will very likely assume that Their Majesties have already escaped.'
'You assume they will not find the entrance to this tunnel? Do you?' Shaking his head.
'As you saw when we came down, the entrance is concealed behind an apparently solid stone wall. To trigger the sliding mechanism that opens the wall would require direct knowledge of it, or astonishing good luck. The attackers will have neither.'
'Can you really be certain of that, Monsieur Félix? They knew where to come to find the king, exact. Did not they?'
'But they have not found him. They cannot, and will not.'
'Christ Jesu, will not you ask yourself – how came they to this place, hid away on the coast, far from Paris? As out-of-the-way a place as it would be possible to think of in all of Brittany, monsieur. And yet they came here, over one hundred strong, and stormed the house. How? How did they know? Because they had information!'
'We will remain in the tunnel until the mist has cleared.' Stubbornly, firmly.
'Then will you in least allow me to go up and out, and make my own way to the Pointe de Malaise? If the fog lifts, and the boat comes in, I could—'
'No one will leave the tunnel tonight. I have made my decision.' Turning away toward the stair.
James gripped his arm. 'Tell me, monsieur – what does His Majesty think?'
'What?'
'Does His Majesty agree with you, Monsieur Félix?'
'That is not your affair.' Curtly.
'Oh, is it not? But I dispute that, you know. I think it is my business, absolutely. As the officer who will get the royal party into the boat, and aboard the ship, I believe it is my responsibility to inform His Majesty how I intend to manage it. Will you take me to him, monsieur?'
'I will not.' A furious glare.
'Then I will go to him, anyway.' Making to move past M. Félix.
Juliette, who had remained silent until now, took James's arm. 'No, James, no. Not even I am permitted to approach Their Majesties. The bodyguards would certainly shoot you. We must do as Monsieur Félix asks.'
M. Félix continued to glare at him, and at last James:
'Damnation!' In bitter exasperation, knowing he could not persist. He let go of M. Félix's arm, turned to face the other way, and with the dank reek of the tunnel in his nostrils like an omen of the tomb, resigned himself to wait.
*
'There it is! There is the light.'
On the shingle of the inlet Lieutenant Hayter saw the glow of the signalling light from the ship, a league off – one, two, three long flashes in the darkness. A sea breeze, the saline tidal smell of the rocks, the subdued surging hiss of waves breaking on shingle, and sucking in retreat. And now the click of the dark-cover on their own lantern as the answer was made. A confirming series of flashes at sea, and James turned to M. Félix, who said no word to him, but returned to where the royal party remained huddled and separate at the top of the beach, beneath the towering cliff. Serge covered the lantern with his cloak, and waited for further instruction. Juliette had lain down in the hollow of a rock hours since, covered by her own cloak.
'Why do not you join the royal party?' James had asked her. Long hours in the dark, damp tunnel under the château, then the urgent flight through the wood, and in commandeered farm carts along the lanes at dawn, the awkward, stumbling descent down the cliff path, and the subsequent anxious wait through the day at the inlet, had left everyone exhausted. 'They will undoubtedly have blankets and cushions to make themselves more comfortable.'
'I may not,' Juliette had told him. 'It is forbidden.'
'By whom? By Félix? Ain't he free to join them, if he wishes?'
'As their tactical commander and adviser, that is all. Not as equal, or anything like.'
'God's love, are not we all in this together? We are all of us human beings, wishing to get into a boat and escape, and save our lives, are we not?'
'Their Majesties are more than that. It is something that is understood. They are the heart and soul of France, her life's blood and her honour. I am merely a servant.'
'Yes, are you? But even a servant must keep herself warm. Wrap yourself up.' Concerned by her shivering pallor. And she had followed his advice.
Now he straightened up, stretching his aching limbs, and fervently wished he had a flask and a wedge of pie, his usual sustenance on watch through the night at sea. The royal party had had food and drink, he was certain. James and Juliette, and Serge, had had no food in twenty-four hours, and nothing but a little water to drink. M. Félix had very probably eaten when he was with the royal party, James thought. He had made requests, but had been curtly rebuffed.
'Our departure into the
tunnel was very sudden, as you know. There was no time to prepare and bring food for us all.'
'Have not Their Majesties ate and drunk?'
'That is not your business.'
'Not my business ... ? Have you ate, Monsieur Félix?'
No response. James had grown irate. 'Look here, you had better explain to the royal party that we are not beasts of burden that aid them in their escape. We are human beings. If they have ate, so should we have ate. Tell them that, if you please.'
'I will do nothing of the kind, and you will hold your tongue.'
'Then in least let Juliette have something to eat, if you will not feed me.'
'I am all right, James. I am used to hardship now, travelling through France.'
'Damnation to that. I demand—'
But M. Félix had simply walked away from them, and returned to the base of the cliff.
'Could not he in least ask for some food for us?' James, astonished and furious.
'He may not. He may not. Their Majesties will assume we have our own food. And he may not importune them in our behalf. And so we must bear a little hunger, a few hours. It is nothing, James.'
'It ain't nothing to me. I never heard of such damned infamous treatment. It would never be permitted at sea.'
'We are not at sea, my love.'
'Not yet.' Savagely.
Soon all this would be forgotten. Soon the boat would come, and they could go into it, and be taken out to Expedient. He looked to seaward, hoping to see the lantern in the boat, but saw nothing there but blackness. He sighed, and turned to look back up the beach, and saw the gleam of a light at the top of the cliff. Then another. And another.
'Christ's blood, we are discovered.' Whispered. A moment of hesitation, then he began to run toward the party at the base of the cliff. And stopped, skidding on the shingle. The National Guard clearly knew they were on the beach. What was the point of preserving silence now?
'Félix! Monsieur Félix! The cliff! We are under attack!' In bawling, carrying French.
At once the lanterns at the cliff base were extinguished, as the soldiers of the guard sprang up and readied their weapons. Lights bobbed and danced high above, rapidly descending.
Crack! Crack!
The Gathering Storm Page 16
