The Rising Storm

by Dennis Wheatley

  He gave one upward jerk of his strong wrist and the packet slipped from between their fingers. Holding it on high he cried to de Roubec: “You have forgotten me, Chevalier, but I have not forgotten you! And I mean to slice off your ears in payment for what you owe me.”

  “Who … who are you, Monsieur?” gasped de Roubec.

  During their swift exchange the lady had emerged from the carriage. She was standing now upon the lowest of the folding steps that had been let down outside its doors. Roger saw at a glance that she was tallish with a mature but slim figure. As she drew herself up the additional height lent her by the step, coupled with her high headdress, gave her the appearance of towering over him. Next second he caught the angry flash of bright blue eyes through the slits in her mask, as she exclaimed impetuously:

  “Monsieur! How dare you interfere in my affairs! And do you not know that it is a criminal offence to draw a sword in_________”

  She never finished her sentence, breaking it off abruptly as a quick, warning cry of “Madame! I pray you have a care!” came in French, but with a strong foreign accent, from her companion who was still inside the vehicle.

  But the lady on the step had already said too much to preserve her incognito. On several occasions in the past Roger had seen that determined chin, slightly protruding lower lip, and delicate but imperial nose. Her uncompleted sentence, pronounced with such icy dignity, had given him the clue to her identity and he knew that she had meant to end it with the words “in my presence”

  Within a second his stupefaction was overcome by a wave of glowing elation. Where his wits had failed him it seemed that the goddess Fortune had dealt him a hand of her highest cards, and that he had now only to play them properly to be received at Court on the most favourable terms.

  By preventing the packet from being given to the scoundrelly de Roubec, he had every reason to believe that he had rendered a most valuable service to no less a person than Marie Antoinette, Queen of France.

  Chapter II

  The Masked Ladies

  Roger still held the packet high above his head spitted on the point of his sword, so he was in no situation to make a graceful obeisance; but he could, and did, sweep off his hat with his free hand, lower his sword to the ground and go down on one knee before the Queen.

  “I see you know me, Monsieur,” she said coldly. “That makes your conduct even more inexcusable.”

  “I did not recognise Your Majesty until you spoke,” he replied in quick protest.

  “Then I excuse your having drawn your sword, but not your interference.” She spoke more calmly now. “Rise, Monsieur, and give that packet to the gentleman to whom I was handing it, instantly.”

  Roger stood up, removed the packet from the point of the sword, and sheathed his blade; but he made no movement to obey her last command. Instead, he said: “At the risk of incurring an even further degree of Your Majesty’s displeasure I was about to add that had I recognised you when first I came up I would still have acted as I did.”

  “What mean you by this fresh impertinence, Monsieur?” Her voice was high and sharp again.

  It was not the first time that Roger had been called upon to talk with royalty. In the preceding year he had held several long conversations with King Gustavus III of Sweden, and others of a far more intimate character with that bold, cultured, licentious woman Catherine the Great of Russia; so he knew very well that it was regarded as a most scandalous breach of etiquette to ask any sovereign a direct question. But his experience had taught him that, although crowned heads showed themselves to their subjects only as beings moving in an almost god-like aura of pomp and splendour, they were, behind it all, just as human as other people; and that provided they were treated with the respect which was their due, they responded much more readily when talked to naturally than with slavish obsequiousness. So with a wave of his hand towards de Roubec, who, still sitting his horse, was staring at him with an expression of puzzled anxiety, he said:

  “Madame, I pray you pardon my temerity, but what do you know of this man? I’d take a big wager that you know little or nothing.”

  To put such a question to the Queen of France was a bold gamble, but it came off. She was so taken by surprise that she overlooked the impertinence and replied with her usual impetuosity: “Then you would win your wager, Monsieur; for I have never seen him before. I know only that he was recommended as a trustworthy courier to carry a letter of some importance for me.”

  “Then I beg Your Majesty to excuse me from obeying your last command,” cried Roger, swiftly following up his advantage. “I know the fellow for a rogue. He is unfitted to be entrusted with the scrapings of a poor-box, let alone a weighty despatch from your own august hand. Though, when I first came on the scene, I thought ’twas a package of jewels that you were handing him.”

  “Why so?” asked the Queen, in fresh astonishment.

  “Madame, in your own interests I crave your indulgence to relate an episode from my past, which is highly relevant to this present matter.”

  “Do so, Monsieur. But be brief.”

  Roger bowed. “I thank Your Majesty, and in advance swear to the truth of what I am about to say. I am of noble birth upon my mother’s side, but when I was a lad I decided to go out into the world and pick up a living as best I could, rather than be sent to sea. When I ran away from home my purse was lined with near twenty …” He had been about to say guineas, but swiftly substituted the word “louis” and continued: “But various expenses had reduced that sum to no more than a handful of silver by the time I entered the city of Le Havre.”

  At the naming of the city de Roubec started so violently that he unintentionally rowelled his horse. Throwing up its head the mettlesome bay started to stamp its hoofs in a restless dance, and for the next few moments its rider had all he could do to control it.

  Roger had been watching for the effect of his words and now pointed an accusing finger at him, exclaiming: “See, Madame! He has recognised me at last, though ’tis small wonder that he took so long to do so after all these years; or that I, after passing him a mile back in the forest this afternoon, took several minutes to identify the ill-favoured countenance of this gaudily clad popinjay, for those of the out-at-elbows rogue who cheated me so long ago.”

  “Keep to your story, Monsieur,” interjected the Queen.

  Again Roger bowed. “On arriving in Le Havre, Your Majesty, I went to a poor inn on the quays. There, this Chevalier de Roubec scraped acquaintance with me. He accounted for the shoddiness of his attire by telling me that he had had his pocket picked of a considerable sum, and that the landlord of the inn had seized his wardrobe as security for the payment of his reckoning; but that he was the son of a Marquis who had great estates in Languedoc and a position of importance near the person of the King, so he would soon be in funds again. But that is by the way. Suffice it that, being but a boy and entirely lacking in experience of the ways of such rogues, I believed him and thought him my friend.”

  “He lies!” broke in de Roubec hotly. He had now quieted his horse, and leaning foward across its neck was glaring down with mingled fear and anger at Roger. “I give Your Majesty my word that ’tis all a tissue of falsehoods. He has mistaken me for some other.”

  “Be silent!” Marie Antoinette rebuked the interruption sharply, and signed to Roger to continue.

  Obediently he took up his tale. “I have told you, Madame, that I was by then near out of funds myself, but I had an asset which I counted on to protect me from the pinch of poverty for a year at least. Before I left home a dear friend—one in fact whom I looked on as closer than a sister—knowing my intention, forced upon me a collection of gold trinkets. They were old-fashioned things and she had better jewels; but they were of considerable value and would, I think, have fetched some four hundred louis. This villain took advantage of my trust in him to persuade me to let him help me dispose of them. Then, Madame, he disappeared with the entire collection, leaving me, a boy of fifteen a
nd a half, near destitute in a strange city where I knew not a soul.”

  “ ’Tis a lie! A vile calumny!” de Roubec broke out again.

  “It is the truth!” snapped Roger. “And I thank God that seeing you again today enabled me to come on the scene in time to prevent Her Majesty from placing her faith in so treacherous a viper. I doubt not that you meant to ride to Paris and sell her letter for the highest price you could get for it from her enemies.”

  The Queen paled under her rouge, but her voice was firm as she addressed de Roubec. “Old as the charge is that is brought against you, Monsieur, it still calls for full investigation. If in due course ’tis proven, ’twas a most despicable act to so despoil a child, leaving him a prey to every ill that infests the gutters of our great cities; and for it I promise that you shall see the inside of a prison for longer than you have enjoyed your ill-gotten gains. But His Majesty is the best judge of all such matters and he shall hear the case. I am now about to return to the Château. ’Tis my will that you should follow behind my carriage.”

  She then turned to Roger, and asked:

  “What is your name, Monsieur?”

  “De Breuc, may it please Your Majesty,” he replied with a bow.

  “Then you, too, Monsieur de Breuc, will follow us back to Fontainebleau. If your story proves false you will have cause to rue it, but if it is true you will not find me ungrateful for the service you have rendered me. In the meantime I charge you to say naught of the encounter to anyone.”

  Marie Antoinette had scarcely finished speaking when de Roubec’s horse threw up its head with a whinny and began to prance again. Roger guessed immediately that this time the false Chevalier had spurred his mount with deliberate intent, and he sprang forward to catch the bridle. But he was a second too late. De Roubec swung the bay round and let it have its head. In an instant it was thundering away across the turf.

  “Stop!” cried the Queen. “Stop! If you disobey me it will be at your peril!” But de Roubec only waved his left arm in a vague gesture, which might have signified that he had lost control of his animal, and galloped away down one of the rides.

  With a swift movement the Queen thrust a little silver whistle between her lips and blew a high, piercing blast upon it.

  Roger, meanwhile, had run to his mare and thrown himself into the saddle; but, even as he did so, he knew perfectly well that she had no chance of overtaking de Roubec’s powerful bay. Nevertheless, he was just about to set spurs to her when the Queen motioned to him to desist, and said: “Remain here, Monsieur. I have better mounts than yours to send in pursuit of that rogue.”

  Her words gave Roger the clue to her use of the whistle. She must, he now guessed, have had an escort following her carriage at a distance. The next moment his guess was confirmed; as he dismounted from his horse, and the footman took it from him, two gentlemen came galloping into the clearing.

  “Messieurs!” the Queen hailed them, pointing in the direction de Roubec had taken: “I pray you pursue and bring back to me the man in a coat of purple satin who has just disappeared down yonder ride.”

  As they dashed after the fugitive she turned back to Roger. For the first time since they had met her voice was gracious and she smiled, as she said:

  “Monsieur de Breuc, the flight of him you accused is a sure sign of guilt. In my youth I was a passable horsewoman myself, although my preceptress, Madame de Noailles, would not allow me to ride as much as I wished from the absurd notion that it would make me fat. Yet I know enough of the art to be certain that the rascal incited his mount to bolt and even then could have checked it had he so wished.”

  Roger gave her smile for smile and seized upon the personal note. “I have heard it said that Your Majesty nicknamed that old lady Madame L’Etiquette; and that once when you had a fall from a donkey you declared laughingly to your companions that you would not rise from the ground until Madame de Noailles could be brought to demonstrate the correct procedure for assisting a Dauphine of France to her feet.”

  Marie Antoinette gave a little laugh, then the smile faded from her lips; but she regarded Roger kindly as she shook her head. “I know not where you heard the story, but in the main ’tis true, Monsieur; and it recalls memories of happier times than these. I was then but the carefree girl-wife of the heir to France, whereas I am now its Queen, with many troubles. By your knowing that man for a rogue today, and acting as you did, it seems that you have saved me from yet another matter for grievous worry. In what way can I reward you?”

  Taking his three-cornered hat from under his arm Roger swept it almost to the ground; then, drawing himself up, he replied: “This meeting with your gracious Majesty is in itself reward enough, and if I have been of some small service I count that an additional privilege. But if, Madame, your generosity prompts you to honour me further, then ’tis simply done.”

  “Tell me your wish, Monsieur.”

  “It is to have some further opportunity of distracting Your Majesty’s mind for a little from these troubles of which you speak. You listened with sympathy and interest to my tale of being robbed and left near penniless in Le Havre as a boy. Since then I have travelled in England, Holland, Denmark, Sweden and Russia, and in those countries it has been my lot to meet with many adventures both grave and gay. I am of independent means and crave no pension; but if you would grant me the privilege of unobtrusive attendance at your Court, and send for me from time to time when affairs of State weigh heavily upon your mind, I believe that I could dispel your gloom and make you laugh again as I did just now by mentioning the episode of the donkey. And if I could do that I should count myself happy indeed.”

  “Oh, please, Madame!” The soft foreign voice came again from inside the carriage. “I pray you accede to his request. I am agog to know how he fared after he had been robbed of the jewels which were his only fortune.”

  The Queen half turned towards her lady-in-waiting as she said: “And so you shall, child.” Then she smiled again at Roger, and added: “Monsieur, your request is truly a modest and unselfish one. I grant it willingly.

  As Roger bowed his thanks he felt that he had every reason to congratulate himself, for his quick wits had enabled him to turn his stroke of luck to the best possible advantage. More, it seemed that Fortune had granted him yet another favour in his tale having caught the interest of the still barely glimpsed lady inside the carriage; so that not only had he secured the permission to present himself at Court, but had also secured an unknown ally who would remind the Queen about him, and ensure his being sent for in order to hear more of his story.

  His only serious concern now was as to what lies he might be forced to tell if he meant to keep up the pretence of being a Frenchman, as he knew only too well that one lie had a horrid way of leading to another until one found oneself enmeshed in a highly dangerous net of falsehood. Loath as he was to disclose the fact that he was a foreigner, he was beginning to wonder if the game of continuing in his incognito would, in the long run, prove worth the candle.

  After a brief silence the Queen remarked: “My gentlemen seem a long time in bringing back that rogue.”

  “He was exceptionally well mounted, Madame.” Roger gave a little shrug. “And he had several minutes’ start. So I fear it might well be an hour before they succeed in riding him down.”

  “In that case, since the afternoon is fine, and it is pleasant here, let us sit for a little on the grass.”

  As the Queen stepped down on to the ground her footman sprang to life, and running round to the boot got from it some thick rugs which he spread out at the foot of the giant oak. While he was doing so the lady-in-waiting descended from the carriage and, seeing her mistress now remove her mask, followed suit.

  She proved to be a young woman of about twenty-two with lustrous black hair and an olive complexion. Her eyes were a velvety brown, her nose aquiline, her cheeks thin and her chin long. Her arms were well modelled and her hands were small with sensitive, tapering fingers. She was medium tall
but on the thin side for her height. So considered on all counts by the standards of the day she would have been considered passably good-looking, but no great beauty. She had, however, one feature which made her face, once seen, unforgettable. To either side of the space above her arched nose dark eyebrows grew to nearly half-an-inch in depth, then gradually turning upward they tapered away to vanishing points at her temples.

  Roger put her down at once as of Latin blood, and thought that he had never before seen hair of such exceptional blackness. But perhaps that was partly to be accounted for by its intense contrast with that of the Queen; for when Marie Antoinette first came to Court her hair had been so like spun gold that, long after her death, silks of an exquisite golden hue were still described as cheveux de la Reine.

  As the olive-skinned young woman removed her mask, the Queen said to Roger: “Monsieur de Breuc, I present you to the Señorita d’Aranda. When the Señorita’s father was recalled to Madrid after having represented his country for many years at our Court, he was kind enough to let me retain her among my ladies for a while. It is not the least of my sorrows that she too will now soon be leaving me.”

  “You are indeed unfortunate, Madame, to lose so charming a companion,” Roger murmured, making a gallant leg in response to the Señorita’s grave curtsy. As he did so he wondered if she had inherited the intelligence and temper of her celebrated father. Don Pedro d’Aranda had been a brilliantly successful General and the Prime Minister of his country for seven years before being sent as Ambassador to France, and no one would have denied his great abilities; but he had the reputation of being extremely haughty and violently intolerant.

  While the two younger people were exchanging courtesies, the Queen called out to her coachman in German: “Weber! You had better walk the horses, as we may remain here for some time.” Then she seated herself on a cushion that had been placed for her and, as the carriage moved off, motioned to Roger and the Spanish girl to sit down one on either side.