"Many thanks," Subervie said, still trying to catch his breath. "I thought I was done for a moment there. I caught the ledge as I fell but I couldn't get up nor hold on forever. Jean-Baptiste…."
"Any time," Corbineau said, resting his head back against the stone. "It's my pleasure to rescue you, child." He looked almost giddy with the relief of it.
"I suppose the spy got away," Subervie said regretfully.
"No," I said. "I shot him to death."
A momentary silence greeted that revelation.
"Well," Subervie said. "Good. The Emperor ought to like that."
"I like that," Jean-Baptiste said.
We all just lay there for a moment.
"What do you suppose has become of Honoré?" Jean-Baptiste asked.
"I haven't the faintest," I said, and got to my feet.
Light beamed out from above, the flashes of a lantern blinking in code, the shutter opening and closing. Out to sea, Lion answered.
I scrabbled up from the ledge.
Honoré stood at the top along the cliff, the lantern in his left hand while he worked the shutter with his right, holding papers open before him.
"What in the devil are you doing?" I demanded as Subervie and Corbineau popped up behind me.
Honoré's look of concentration didn't change. "If the three of you are through lying around down there, there's work to do."
"What?" Subervie demanded, whether for the charge of lying around or utter bafflement.
"The spy dropped his code book with the lantern," Honoré said. "Lion is sitting offshore waiting for a message. We might never have an opportunity like this again." He glanced back at the papers, then opened and shut the lantern swiftly three times in a row.
"What are you telling them?" Subervie demanded.
Honoré repeated the last group of signals and looked at Subervie. "This three times and then this." He pointed to a line of code which I wasn't near enough to read in the dark.
Subervie was. "Embarkation in progress. Invasion imminent? What in the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Shaking things up a bit," Honoré said. "The boy who cried wolf. Full out alert, Boney's coming in a rowboat and all that. Tonight's the night." He looked at the book again, then gave a different signal. "Capture expected. Farewell."
A chill ran down my spine as Honoré sent gallant last words from a man already dead. They would believe he had given his life to save them, when instead he had failed and died.
"For verisimilitude," Honoré said with a sideways look at me, but I did not believe him. Not entirely.
"The Marshals will have fits," Subervie said. "For that matter, the Emperor will have a fit! How could you take that on?"
"We had one chance to do it," Honoré said, setting the lantern down. "Lion had already given the countersignal. It's not as though we could wait for orders from Boulogne!"
"Gentlemen," I said. "Let's get back to headquarters. Marshal Lannes will want to know what's happened and send a detail to recover the body. And…." Words failed me.
"I'll take full responsibility for this," Honoré said stiffly. "It was my initiative and mine alone."
"Back to town," Jean-Baptiste said, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. "And pray we'll meet a patrol on the way."
We started along the cliffs together. I looked back. Lion was spreading all canvas, and over the water I could hear the shouts on her deck as she prepared to come about, Captain Arnold standing out from the French coast with all possible haste and a fair wind for Dover at his back, carrying the message of invasion. On her deck a light winked and then ceased. Godspeed.
Lannes boggled. So did I, when I saw the clock. All of that and it was only half past twelve! It seemed that several nights must have been and gone. Michel sat down heavily in a chair and didn't look at me while Lannes paced. Honoré, of course, had to answer some rather penetrating questions from the both of them.
"This may be to the good," Michel said, looking at Lannes. "Misdirection."
"It could be." Lannes nodded gravely. "I'll get this coded and sent by semaphore at first light. We'll see what the Emperor says."
Honoré straightened his shoulders, eyes front.
"You can go," Michel said, and I thought he was pleased with Reille rather than the opposite. "Corbineau, Subervie…get some clean clothes and something to eat. There's the buffet laid and no one's touched it."
"Yes sir," Jean-Baptiste said with a smart salute. He looked a bit the worse for wear, but entirely self-satisfied, as though it had been a good adventure all around. And he thought I was the crazy one!
"Stay, Madame," Lannes said as they went to the door, and I waited while the door closed behind them. He sat down on the edge of his desk, white trousers immaculate even at this time of night. "A very good job," he said. "The spy disposed of, and Lion making for Dover leaving Boulogne entirely unattended and unobserved."
"Are you thinking…" Michel began, looking up at Lannes from the chair.
"Will there be a better time?"
"Not likely." The devil's smile played about Michel's lips.
"Then," Lannes said.
"Then." They looked like boys daring each other on.
"You are not going to launch the invasion in the teeth of the alarm!" I burst out. "Surely that will be more dangerous!"
"You will see what we will do," Lannes said. He went behind the desk and fetched a small packet of papers. "But you had best report to the Emperor immediately. My own carriage is waiting to take you to Paris without delay. You'll change horses at each posting station and travel through the night. The semaphore message will pass you in the morning, but I'm sure the Emperor will want your report in person. I've sent a man for the clothes you left here for after the ritual and to put up some cold supper for you to take with you. But you'd best be off." He handed me the packet. "It has been a pleasure working with you, Madame St. Elme. I would be delighted to see you in my command at any time."
He made to bend over my hand, but I took it and shook it like a man. "The pleasure has been entirely mine, Marshal. I hope that our paths cross again."
"I hope so too, Madame," he said. "You are a worthy addition to our Lodge."
"I appreciate your trust," I said.
He glanced at Michel rather transparently. "If you'd like to show the lady down, I have things I must attend to."
"It's no bother at all," Michel replied, and closed the door behind me as we stepped out into the hall and went down the stairs. It was no longer silent. I could hear the swift tattoo of a drum beating to arms, the sounds of men assembling in the courtyard, horses being led out.
I stopped at the bottom of the last flight. Amid the orderly chaos of the courtyard, Lannes' black traveling coach was waiting. "Michel…."
He took both my hands in his. "I know we've only a moment," he said. "And I don't know when I'll see you again. But yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I'll take your proposition," he said, his eyes roving over my face. "We've already ruined so much, but if there's any chance…. We'll do this your way. I don't know if it will be enough, but you say that's what you want…."
"Shut up and kiss me," I said, and drew him down.
It was a very long kiss, thorough and deep and replete with everything we hadn't said when there was time, but now there was none. Our hearts raced in time to the drum's roll and the night was speeding fast. Time was tearing ahead of us.
"I'll see you as soon as I can," I murmured, my forehead against his stubbled chin, drinking in the scent and feel of him, the faint hint of incense clinging to him.
"I love you," he said unnecessarily.
"And I you." I rested my cheek against his shoulder for a long moment. "Be safe."
"I always try to be," he said, and stepped back, that quirk at the corner of his mouth again. "I don't enjoy getting shot. It just happens."
"As soon as I can," I said, and stepped out into the courtyard with Michel at my back.
He opened the carriage door for me and handed me up though I wore dirty and stained man's clothes, leaned in a moment. "Always," he said.
"Yes."
And then he closed the door and spoke to the driver, looking back as the wheels began to turn. He lifted a hand as we turned at the guardpost and held it while I waved back, trying not to cry. About him the regiment was forming up at arms. Ahead was the road to Paris.
I ate the cold supper Lannes had caused to be packed and changed into clean clothes. I couldn't wash, and I was certain we'd stop no longer at posting stations than absolutely necessary to change the horses and tend to vital functions, but at least in a sprigged muslin dress and bonnet I looked somewhat more respectable, perhaps Lannes' mistress rather than his stableboy!
I had not thought I could sleep. The rigors of the night crowded in, one thing upon another, but the motion of the carriage was soothing, horses trotting smoothly over well maintained highways. I had not thought I would, but before long I leaned my head against the cushioned frame of the door and closed my eyes.
Up and down, rising and falling, the gentle give of the carriage springs….
Rising and falling, leaping through choppy Channel rollers, colors spread against the night sky, Dover Castle now in sight. There was a man on the foremast, shuttered lantern in his hand, signaling the moment the pinnacles appeared over the horizon. Embarkation in progress. Invasion imminent. Invasion imminent. Captain Arnold paced his quarterdeck, his eyes on the light above, while his lieutenant squeezed every bit of speed from Lion. Invasion imminent.
An answering light, and I swooped low like a gull in flight, hearing our drums echoed in the answering tattoo at Dover, the garrison called to quarters in the predawn stillness.
Embarkation in progress. Invasion imminent.
Church bells rang out across Kent, alarm pealing clear and loud over fields and towns. Invasion imminent. The sky was paling as home guardsmen assembled in lanes with antique fowling pieces, ready to repel.
The sun rose over London, church bells carrying the word swift as semaphores, the bells of London crying out alarm, repeating and repeating from high streets to low. Invasion imminent.
Drake's drum sounded its relentless beat beneath it all, while high and clear the bells of St. Martin's answered. A white gull turned among the pigeons, wings tireless and strong, London spread beneath her wings….
The carriage stopped, bumping into a posting station, and I jerked awake. It was just after sunrise, and a riot of birds sang in the trees. The bees were in the lavender. I climbed stiffly down from the carriage and used the necessary while they changed the horses. I stood and washed my face at the pump, letting the morning sun kiss the water from my cheeks. The ostlers brought out the new team. On a ridge beyond a field the massive arms of a semaphore turned, telegraphing the news toward Paris, Lannes' report passing me and charging on through the morning.
I felt light, thin as a cloud and twice as attenuated. I got back in the carriage and slept before we were moving again.
I woke as we clattered into the village of Pontoise. Afternoon shadows were lengthening. A sergeant at the posting station passed me a basket of cold chicken and bread, and I ate as we lurched on again, a new team eating up the miles. Dispatch riders passed us still, chasseurs galloping wildly on errands. All France was on the move.
Were even now the beacons burning on England's southern coast, our landing craft seen from shore? Were even now they coming under fire from naval guns?
Michel…. My heart yearned for wings again, but now I was awake and fed and it was only me. I could see nothing, could not launch into that unseen wind. The sound of the wheels was his name. Michel. What was happening even now?
We rolled into through the Barrière de Clichy into Paris at evening, with all the lamps new lit and the streets full of people. Cafés spilled their crowds into the street on a warm August night. In the west the moon was setting ripe and bright. An escort of hussars fell in beside the carriage, clearing traffic as though I were Lannes himself.
The Tuileries blazed with light. Every window was lit, open to the river breezes, white curtains moving, silhouetting figures behind them.
"Madame St. Elme," the driver said at the guardpost, and the soldiers let us through immediately. When we stopped beneath the portico I could hardly get down, so much had I stiffened from sitting so long. A sprigged muslin dress and bonnet was hardly appropriate for the Tuileries. I should have been in satin and diamonds.
"This way," a footman said, and I followed him.
This time the anteroom was full of military men, mostly chasseurs waiting about to carry orders. The marble bust of Alexander smirked at me, and it occurred to me that it was real, the Guimet Alexander wrought two thousand years ago. "A very good likeness," I said aloud.
"I am glad that you approve, Madame."
The chasseurs had all come to attention and the Emperor stood in the doorway to the inner office wearing a plain undress uniform. I made my courtesy as swiftly and with as much grace as possible.
"Come in," he said, and gestured for me to precede him.
"Sire," I said.
He shut the door and grinned at me, a boyish look of sheer delight that utterly transformed him. "I knew you could do it," he said triumphantly, as if he'd won a schoolboy bet. "Oh, well done, Madame!"
"Thank you, sire," I said.
"Lannes says that you have given perfect satisfaction in every way, above and beyond any expectations of you. You have saved many French lives, and you have my gratitude."
I bowed my head under the weight of his approbation. "It is enough for me if some of them are the lives of my friends," I said. "I beg you, let me return to Boulogne and cross the Channel with our reinforcements! Surely there will be more ships attempting the crossing even if the British Navy…." I stopped short at his incredulous expression.
"Has no one told you yet? I thought Ney would leak like a sieve!"
"Told me what?"
"There is no invasion of England, Madame." He crossed behind his desk and sat down. "There has not been since the spring."
"What?" My mouth hung open. "All those ships, all those men…."
"All of those ships and men are engaged in a campaign against Austria," he said. "It is time to bring our wars with Austria to a close. Their empire will never accept the Revolution, not so long as the specter of Marie Antoinette hangs over all and they believe that the Bourbons may yet be restored to the French throne. Austria, not England, is our nemesis. Fox can be reasoned with, and men like him, but Austria? They cannot afford for us to exist, as every day that we do their subject peoples grow more and more restive on the idea of revolution."
"Austria?" I felt rather stupid, still a step behind. "But the British navy, the landing craft, the Lodge…."
"It was imperative that the Austrians and British both believe that our goal was England. But that has not been the case since March. Long before you went to Boulogne, Lannes knew what the real plan was. He wrote it with Berthier and two others. The most senior officers and some essential aides were informed when I was there last month, because they should have to arrange the execution of the plan -- two massive army corps spinning on a coin and attacking east instead of west, a complete and total surprise! This is the secret for which men and women have died, Madame."
"So what I saw on Lannes' desk…."
"…were V Corps' orders to pivot and march east four days from now. That is the secret that the spy would have reported, a secret that would have brought the whole plan down in ruins." The Emperor leaned forward on his elbows. "If not for you and that peerless band of gentlemen."
"Reille was doing his best, sire," I said. I thought I owed it to Honoré to try to get him out of hot water.
"A young man with initiative," he said. "Thanks to him the British and Austrians both believe that our troop movements are the precursors to an invasion at any moment, successfully screening our real purpose. There is a decoration in it for him, a
nd an appointment to my staff. I think he'd make a fine Aide de Camp for me!"
"Sire," I said rather breathlessly.
The Emperor opened a morocco folder on his desk. "And now there is the matter of your payment." He handed me a sheaf of papers. "This states that you are one Ida St. Elme, born in the village of Vallombreuse in the Department of Haute Savoie, daughter of a Protestant minister and his wife. A copy has also been filed with the Mayor's office there, in case there is ever any question. You are a citizen of France named Ida St. Elme. There is no Elzelina Ringeling who is wanted in Holland."
Haute Savoie. My eyes ran over the paper as though I could hardly believe what I read. Safe. Safe for the rest of my life. They filled with tears.
"You shall never be deported. A fresh start," he said. He wiggled a finger at the rest of the papers. "There is also a bank draft for you of some size. I do not want you to find me parsimonious."
"I am sure I shall not, sire," I said rather breathlessly. I lifted the first page and looked at it. Generous, but not excessive -- precisely what I was worth to the sou. "And the other papers?" There were several others beneath.
"Orders for posting houses allowing you to requisition fodder and supplies, passes and that sort of thing." He looked up at me and there was a mischievous expression on his face. "If you hurry, I imagine you can catch VI Corps at Strasbourg!"
I could not help it. I burst out laughing, as it was that or tears.
"I have no doubt I will see you soon," he said. "I am certain you will be needed."
"You may count on it," I said.
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Jo Graham - [Numinous World 05] Page 32
