Duval at Waterloo (Napoleon's Police Book 15)

by Michele McGrath

  “Alain Duval.” We shook hands and then continued to dig.

  Eventually the grave was finished. Darvy’s initials were carved on the bark of a nearby tree. Evrard recited most of the burial service, which surprised me. When I asked him how he knew it so well, he shrugged and said,

  “My mother’s devout and I go to a lot of funerals in my profession.”

  I smiled in spite of myself. We bent down to pick up our tools and as we did so, Evrard murmured to me, “We’ve finished digging so our parole’s over. Can you run?”

  I was too astonished to answer anything but “Yes”.

  “Be ready when I say the word and go left.”

  I tensed and my heart throbbed. The soldiers surrounded us again and we began the journey back to the camp. I kept my eyes in the ground but I was aware of Evrard walking by my side, alert for any change of movement. It came as we passed through some bushes and we had to walk in single file.

  “Walk slowly,” Evrard hissed.

  I was in front of him, with two soldiers ahead and two following us. I slowed down and pretended to limp more than I usually did. Then I realised Evrard’s plan. The soldiers in front had kept the same pace as before and a gap opened between us. As soon as I passed through the bushes, Evrard shouted, “Now!” and I heard the sound of a thump and a gasp behind me.

  I ran to the left, not looking back, concentrating on keeping my feet on the rough ground. My lame leg was actually a help for once, because it made me lopsided when a musket ball flew past my ear. If I had been upright, it would have undoubtedly been the end. Evrard came crashing after me. Then he called.

  “Hide!”

  I threw myself down by some bushes and squirmed under them, lying still and trying to stifle the sound of my breathing. Everything was silent until I heard footsteps. My skin began to crawl, but the man, for he was alone, walked right past me. I did not dare move and, after a while, he returned and passed me again. It seemed like hours, but it must have only been minutes, when Evrard called softly,

  “Where are you?”

  “Here.” I rolled out of my cover and got to my feet. He was grinning from ear to ear and clutching the handle of the shovel as if it was a sword.

  “What did you do to the men following us?” I asked him.

  “Drove the shovel into the first man’s belly. It winded him and the other fellow tripped over him. We’re not clear yet, though. They’ll be after us on horses as soon as they’ve reported. We’ve got to find somewhere to hide.”

  “Let’s hope they don’t have dogs.” It was one of my worst fears, being chased by dogs.

  “Unlikely in an army camp wouldn’t you think?”

  “The English had them in Spain, so I was told.”

  “Well perhaps they’ve left them at home this time.”

  I suppose it was the shock of Darvy’s death, but I seemed unable to think for myself then and for some time afterwards. I followed Evrard blindly, doing what he told me to do without question. As it was, my faith in him was rewarded. He led me through the woods and fields. As darkness fell, we were some distance from the spot where we had broken away and we could see flickering lights in a farmhouse window.

  “What do you think, will they give us shelter?” I asked.

  “They should, the old woman is a patient of my uncle.”

  “What?”

  “I’m from Arras, but my uncle lives at Noeux-les-Mines which is just over that rise. He knows most of the people around here and I’ve been with him long enough for them to know me too.”

  “How did you come to be a prisoner then?”

  “Long story which I’ll tell you some time. I was tending three wounded soldiers when the English arrived. They didn’t ask questions or rather they didn’t listen to me. They just bundled us all together and took us to where you found me. Come on then, let’s find out how good Mère Hébert’s memory is.”

  Fortunately it was excellent. She welcomed us warmly, pulling us into the warmth and exclaiming how nice it was to see Evrard again. She served us stew and crusty bread, which tasted like manna. I didn’t realise how hungry I had been, ever since I left the windmill. When we had eaten, we wanted to leave, but she wouldn’t let us. She shooed us up a ladder onto a platform built into the rafters, where we could sleep. We went, after making her promise to call us if anything happened.

  An hour or so after dawn, I awoke to find Evrard’s hand gripping my arm.

  “What’s up?”

  “Voices down below. The old woman and at least two men. I can’t understand what they’re saying.” He stood and went to a corner of the roof and started pulling at the thatch, to make a small gap. He put his eye to the hole and then motioned me to have a look. Mère Hébert’s voice floated up to me.

  “I’m a respectable woman. What would I do with men in my house? My husband would flay me alive if he found anyone here, but come in and look if you’re not satisfied.” We heard her thrust the door open and then she walked back inside. Evrard and I lay down flat on the platform, keeping well away from the edge. I was certainly praying that her bluff would work and, no doubt Evrard was doing the same.

  “What’s up there?”

  “Nothing. Used to be hay and some sacks until one of the poles broke. I’m still waiting for my man to fix it and that was three years gone Christmas. He’s a lazy blighter. Go up and see if you want to. There’s a ladder around here somewhere.”

  Now I really held my breath. Would the men take her up on her offer? I breathed again when the man said something in his own language, which Evrard translated for me later,

  “There’s nothing here, lads. Best be off and search elsewhere.”

  “Try those woods down there if you’re looking for vagabonds,” the old woman said. “There’s a road on the other side of the trees.”

  “Thank you.” With a clatter the men left. We did not move. Eventually Mère Hébert called to us,

  “Stay there, they might come back.”

  They didn’t, but we did not come down from the platform until evening was falling. The old woman fed us again. We were profuse in our thanks to her, for she had put herself in danger for our sake.

  “I wouldn’t be here if your uncle hadn’t saved my life last winter,” she told Evrard. “God go with you.”

  Evrard decided to make for one of the villages where he knew people. He hoped to find a horse or a cart going in the right direction. Accordingly we took a roundabout way across the fields until we came to a hamlet, whose name I never found out. Evrard led the way into the village, which seemed deserted at this hour and knocked on one of the cottage doors. Their greeting was the same as Mère Hébert’s. They ushered us in, fed us and promised us a ride into Arras in the morning with the carter. We slept well, without any rude awakening. The carter picked us up and we spent a few uncomfortable hours, with some lumpy vegetables and assorted sacks and boxes, jolting over a road full of ruts. The carter let us out at the outskirts of the town and we were glad to stretch our legs. We kept a wary look out but no one bothered us and we arrived at Evrard’s house just off the Grand Place without difficulty.

  There we received a welcome beyond any of the others we had been given so far. Evrard’s parents were delighted to see him alive and well. They had heard rumours that he was missing and naturally feared the worst. I was welcomed as a friend who had shared his troubles. We washed properly for the first time in days. Martin found me some clothes that transformed me from a farm labourer into something much more like myself, although the coat was a bit tight and pulled under the arms.

  At dinner that night, we discussed ways of getting me to Paris. In the end it was decided that a bold approach would be disarm suspicion.

  “Fugitives lurk in the woods, honest men take a coach,” Monsieur Evrard said.

  Accordingly, one of the servants was dispatched to book me a seat on the diligence which would leave early next morning. I had taken out my purse to buy my ticket when Evrard’s father stopped me
.

  “Keep your money, you may need it later. I will pay for your journey.”

  “I can’t do that, Sir. I have no claim on your generosity.”

  He smiled. “Call it a thanksgiving to God that we have our boy safe with us again.”

  In the end I gave in and thanked him.

  It was hard parting from Evrard next morning. We had become good friends in a very short time. He packed a small bag for me and put into it some of the tools of his trade.

  “If anyone asks, you are a doctor, travelling to Paris at the request of one of your rich patients. Invent a horrible disease and I doubt you’ll be troubled any further.”

  We both laughed. We shook hands and hugged each other, knowing it would be a long time, if ever, before we saw each other again. I told him I would write to him when I was safely home. I also made a private promise that I would return his father’s money as soon as I could. If he did not accept it, I would request that he give it to the poor or the church, whichever he chose. I climbed into the diligence and the coach clattered out of the courtyard and onto the road to Paris.

  Chapter 13

  I arrived in Paris late in the evening, tired and glad to get out of the swaying coach at last. We had been stopped at the gate and I was questioned about my purpose in coming here. Fortunately, the guards did not seem to be interested in me, nor could their search be called anything but perfunctory.

  I decided to call on Fournier first and find out what was happening. Afterwards I would have to visit Madame David and Lefebvre’s daughter, Lucienne. So I crossed the city to Fournier’s apartment. The streets seemed to be full of Prussians, strutting about and enjoying themselves. I did not want any trouble, so I avoided them and arrived at Fournier’s building unscathed.

  I leaned wearily against his doorpost and tapped at the scarred panel. A bustle inside told me that, at least, there was someone at home. Thank heavens. I couldn’t have borne the disappointment of finding no one there and having to find somewhere else to sleep for the night. The door opened. Berthe Fournier gasped when she saw me. Then, suddenly, she was hugging me so hard, I thought my ribs would crack.

  “Alain! My God, we thought you were dead! Claude! Claude! Come and see who’s here!”

  “Let him be, woman. Look at the state he’s in.”

  They led me into the apartment and sat me down on a chair.

  “Are you wounded?” Fournier asked.

  “I was, but I’m better now.”

  “You look like hell. What’s the matter with you?”

  “I’m only tired.” A great yawn escaped me and he grinned. “I hate travelling.”

  “Brandy’s what you need.”

  Berthe put a brandy glass into my hand.

  “Take off his boots, while I make up a bed,” she ordered.

  “I wouldn’t.” I tried to wave Fournier away. “I changed clothes at Arras but the coach was full of chickens and onions. I stink!”

  “I can smell you!” We both laughed and it was as if a great blanket of worry lifted from my shoulders. It had been so long since I laughed freely with friends.

  Fournier stripped me and brought me water to wash. I didn’t make a good job of it; I was too tired and sore from the jolting of the coach. Then he led me into their son’s room. He was away with the army and they had no idea if he was coming back, I learned later. At this moment I did not ask. I fell full length onto the bed and was asleep almost as soon as my head touched the pillow.

  They told me that I slept like the dead for a night and a day, waking next evening. Fournier had been to my old lodgings, where I had lived for a short time after I returned to Paris. He retrieved the few belongings I left behind when I had ridden out with the Emperor.

  “Berthe has washed the clothes you wore but they’re not dry,” he told me. “A bit posh for you, aren’t they?”

  “Don’t forget I’m a respected member of the medical profession now.”

  He gave a huge guffaw. “Well, you’re not treating me, I can tell you.”

  The garments hung on me. I had lost so much weight in the days I had been struggling to get back to Paris. Even at Evrard’s house, I had not been able to finish my meal.

  “Heavens,” Berthe said when she saw me. “What have you been eating? Turnips?”

  “Too early in the season for turnips. Vegetables, when I could find any and food from some of the people who helped me along the way.”

  “Then we must feed you up. You can’t go home to Eugénie like that. You’ll scare her out of her wits.”

  I only managed to eat a small portion of Berthe’s potage however. My stomach had shrunk so much that the good stew was too rich for me. I pushed my plate away half eaten.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured.

  “For what? Being starved?” She gave me some bread and a glass of watered wine. “Claude wants to talk to you, so he doesn’t want you knocked out like last night. We thought you’d never wake up.”

  “I needed it. It’s not easy to sleep in a ditch, listening for sounds that might threaten you. The only decent sleep I had was in Arras and I got up at dawn.”

  “Tell us about it.”

  We sat by the fire and I told my good friends all the things that had happened to me since I left them. At one point Fournier asked,

  “Lefebvre?”

  I shook my head and found it hard to keep the sudden tears from showing. “Dead.”

  “In the battle?”

  “No, before it, before Ligny.”

  “How? If you don’t want to talk about it, we understand but we liked him too.”

  I forced a grin. “He died a hero.”

  “That’s very unlike him.”

  I smiled. “He said that, just before he died. He was chasing the assassin who tried to murder the Emperor and there was a struggle. He got a knife in his guts and bled to death. Nothing I could do to save him.”

  “My God, the poor man.” Berthe put her hand to her mouth. “What becomes of Lucienne now that her father’s dead?”

  “I’ll take care of her,” I said. I had thought about Lefebvre and Lucienne a lot on the long journey to Paris and I had made some decisions. “She told me, when we went home to Grenoble, that she wanted to come with us, but Lefebvre wouldn’t leave here.”

  “Probably didn’t want to be dependant on you, mon brave, when you were going into the unknown.”

  “I offered him a job, but he told me to take over Papa’s firm first, then he’d decide. I knew he would never come.”

  “So you’re going to take Lucienne back with you?”

  “If she still wants to come. If she doesn’t, she can stay at school, until I can find her a job and somewhere to live. Lefebvre won’t leave her much.”

  “I always thought he was rich!” Fournier looked startled.

  “He was once, but he had expensive tastes and police pay doesn’t go far.”

  “Too true.”

  “How did he get his money in the first place? I’ve always wondered,” Fournier asked.

  I smiled. “No harm in telling you now, I suppose. Do you remember a thief we once called Maître Chagrin?”

  “Of course. I remember his escape and how livid Petit was not to get the reward for his capture. Wait a moment – you’re not saying that Maître Chagrin was Lefebvre?”

  I nodded. “The very same.”

  “And you both kept it quiet all these years?”

  “He’d have gone to the guillotine if it had slipped out and I owed him my life, then and several times since.”

  We continued to talk until I began to droop in my seat, about Lefebvre, my journey, the King, the Emperor and the current state of the country.

  “Why don’t you come home with me also? The Police won’t be a healthy place for you to work any more and who knows what will happen in Paris. Grenoble’s far enough from the capital to be away from prying eyes and nearer the border, if any of us has to leave France in a hurry.”

  Fournier and Berthe loo
ked at each other. “Gilles wouldn’t be able to find us…” Berthe stopped. Gilles was their son. He had marched out with the other volunteers to defend France and no news had been heard of him since. They didn’t even know which division his group had been attached to or whether he had fought in any of the battles and skirmishes that had taken place. “Perhaps he is making his way home to us at this very moment. We need to be here when he comes.” She turned away to hide her face and then left us abruptly.

  “She’s feeling it badly,” Fournier said. “When we heard your tap on the door…”

  “You thought it was him,” I finished.

  “We wanted all of you, Gilles, yourself and Lefebvre. At least one of you came and we can hope that Gilles will follow you. But, Alain...?”

  “Yes?”

  “If Gilles hasn’t arrived by Christmas and the situation here deteriorates…”

  “Come to me then. Don’t ask, pack and get on the next diligence. There’s room for all of you. When Gilles comes home, bring him with you.”

  Fournier nodded. “I may take you up on that offer.”

  “Do.”

  I was feeling much better the next morning and decided to visit Madame David. It was a duty I would have to perform before I left Paris. If I did not do it at once, it would be hanging over me like the quivering blade of the guillotine. Even the fineness of the day did not lift my spirits. I walked along, trying to find the words to tell her that her son was dead and so was her old friend, Lefebvre. No words would give her any comfort, of course, and, in the end, she reacted far better than I feared.

  “I knew,” she said, leaning back into her daughter’s arms. “When he left, I wondered if he would come back to us. Lefebvre too. What a waste, what a shame.”

  “I am sorry for your loss, Madame, so soon after your husband’s death. It is little comfort, I know, but at least their murderer has been caught and executed.”

  Madame David acted with dignity. She was naturally grief-striken but she thanked me for coming to tell her and for burying Nathan. I gave her other son, Ruben, a paper with the directions to Nathan’s grave.