'You will rouse the whole rat's nest!' he scolded. 'Have you forgotten we are waiting for someone?'
It was true. She had forgotten Gracchus-Hannibal Pioche. But her hysterical panic was over in an instant and Marianne crumpled on to the ground, put her head in her hands and wept.
'He will not come now. He must have heard those men and realized that there was no chance tonight. Even supposing he came at all •—'
'And why shouldn't he have come?' Jolival said roughly. 'Myself, I trust that lad! He's got honest eyes. He'll do all he can to get you out of here.'
'Maybe. But not tonight. He won't come back tonight. And, oh my God, the Riders must be on the road to Malmaison by now—'
As though to shut out the sound of galloping hoof-beats ringing in her head Marianne put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes. Never in her whole life had she so longed for oblivion in that moment. Consequently, she did not see Arcadius go quickly to the bars and grip them in his turn as, from the depths of the underground cavern, came the sound of a stone falling. It was followed by another.
In a flash, Arcadius was on her shaking her unmercifully by the shoulders.
'Listen! Only listen! He's coming! He is breaking down the wall again.'
Marianne jerked upright, eyes wide, and gripping Arcadius's hand in her own, she listened with all her soul. It was true, someone was coming down the blind passage. Hardly daring to breathe, she followed the boy's progress. There was the sound of someone running and all at once, she saw Gracchus-Hannibal burst out of the passage. Hard on his heels was the much taller figure of a man and, the next moment, Jason Beaufort's large frame was towering on the other side of the bars. Marianne gave a cry of joy.
'You! God be praised, you have come! You had not left!'
She saw the blue eyes laughing in his tanned face and felt her cold hands folded in the American's warm ones as he reached through the bars to hold and clasp them.
'Not quite!' he said gaily. 'I leave tomorrow but no power on earth would have prevented me from getting you out of this new pickle you've got yourself into, you little fool! Come now, don't cry. We'll have you out of there in a trice. Look there,' he added, turning to Gracchus-Hannibal who, armed with a file almost bigger than himself was bravely attacking one of the bars with Arcadius's help, explaining as he worked that they had been forced to wait for the conspirators to go away.
'I was up top,' he said, 'and Monsieur Beaufort down below.'
'Hurry!' Marianne begged. 'We must get out of here quickly! Or, no—'
Another thought came to her. What did her own fate matter if Napoleon were safe?
'Leave us here and go and warn him!'
'Warn who?' Beaufort exclaimed in surprise. 'You are madder than I thought. Let us get on with our work.'
'No, please, listen to me – it is too important.'
She explained in a few short sentences the plot that was afoot and the Emperor's mortal danger. He listened with a frown, not pausing in his work but when she had finished he threw down the file with an exasperated shrug.
'We are not leaving here without you. Much as I admire Napoleon, I will not leave you any longer in the hands of these savages. Especially if they come back thwarted. We'll not do it that way, kid.' The last part of this speech was addressed to Gracchus-Hannibal who was bending to pick up the file. Glancing at Arcadius, Jason went on abruptly: 'If you shout, can they hear you up there?'
'Yes. I've summoned the lackeys in this charming hotel before now by bellowing like a bull at need.'
'Then shout, my friend, shout as loud as you can, but get your jailer down here! I'll take care of the rest. Go on now, and do your best!'
Jolival opened his mouth and let out a sustained yell of such power that Marianne jumped. Beaufort, meanwhile, hid out of sight round the corner of the blind passage. His lean, muscular form, moulded into some kind of seaman's sweater and tight black breeches, merged so completely into the shadows of the passage that after a moment even Marianne could not see him. She did not understand what he meant to do but Arcadius was still yelling with complete conviction. She would never have believed that he could own such a powerful voice. It rolled among the dripping vaults until the whole place rang with it. When at last he stopped for breath, they could hear the sound of running footsteps followed by the angry voice of Requin.
'What's up with you, yelling yer 'ead of like that? I'll make you shut up!'
As the ruffian came in sight, Jolival flung himself on the ground and began rolling about like someone writhing in extreme agony, shouting once more at the top of his voice.
'Hurry,' Marianne cried urgently, having finally understood what was happening. 'He's ill! I don't know what's the matter.'
Requin swore violently as he struggled to open the gate. Before he could do so, Jason was on him. With a spring like a wild beast, the American leapt for his back and bore him down beneath his weight, at the same time locking his left arm under the man's chin, abruptly choking him. Requin gave a strangled gasp and lost consciousness. Jason gave him a swinging blow with his fist for good measure then, taking possession of the bunch of keys, he opened the gate and made straight for Marianne, sweeping her up in his arms like a feather.
'Let's get out of here,' he said kicking aside the recumbent Requin who blocked his way. 'Stow that behind bars and lock him in, then give me the key. We'll drop it in the sewer. This rat will be coming round in ten minutes and we must make the most of them.'
'What if we was to strangle him?' Gracchus Hannibal suggested sweetly. 'It'd be no great loss and make things easier for us.'
Jason laughed.
'I should have done so a moment ago, but as I didn't, let him be. I can't kill an unconscious man.'
Still carrying Marianne, who had slid her arms instinctively round his neck, he made for the hole in the wall. He had to put her down to pass through it because the crack was only a small one. Behind him came Arcadius, endeavouring to recover some of the spring in legs rusty with captivity. Gracchus-Hannibal brought up the rear, taking the trouble to put back the displaced stones when he had passed through.
'You never know,' he remarked prudently.
Jolival laughed.
'Are you hoping to have business here again?' he said clapping the boy affectionately on the back. 'You certainly came to our rescue, son, and I hope one day that I'll be able to repay you. I owe you more than my life!'
'Go on,' the boy muttered awkwardly, 'it wasn't worth mentioning.'
'You think not? I think so!' Jolival said meaningfully.
On the other side of the wall was a short passage and then the sewer. Marianne's nostrils were filled with the foul stench. Jason had taken her up in his arms again, remarking that in a moment they would have to go through the water and there was no need for two of them to get wet.
For a short distance, they followed the narrow ledge which ran alongside the black waters. Arcadius went first to light the way, armed with a torch which he had thrust into the brazier before leaving the prison, but following directions given him by the American. The cold, which had been not unbearable in the underground caverns, grew more biting as they went towards the outside world, but Marianne did not feel it. Clinging to Jason's neck, she no longer felt any of her old loathing and distrust of him. What he had done that night had wiped out at one go all the accumulated hatred and bitterness she thought she had felt for him and instead, there was a warm feeling of trust which made her for a moment forget her terrors. If it had not been for the threat hanging over the man she loved, she would have felt a simple, almost child-like happiness in the feeling of being carried in those strong arms, which could never know weakness.
Jason had now plunged into the evil-smelling water right up to his waist and was holding her as high as he could to keep her above the stream. She saw his tanned seaman's face close to her own, with its fierce profile and the stern lips with their mocking twist. From time to time, he looked at her and smiled as if to encourage her, wi
th a gentleness that relaxed all his features. In spite of the unpleasant stench all around them, he still gave off a faint agreeable scent of tobacco, of good leather and eau-de-Cologne which Marianne found comforting.
'Be brave,' he said at last. 'We're nearly there.'
Then they were out in the main sewer and he was able to get up again on to the narrow footway. A strong current of icy air blew in on them from a black opening beyond which gleamed the river. Jason set Marianne gently on her feet and bent to take the torch from Arcadius's chilled fingers and help him climb on to the ledge. Young Gracchus was up already. A few more steps and they were out in the open. Jolival breathed in with rapture.
'Ah! How good it is!' he said joyfully. 'I had not realized how much I missed the air of Paris!'
He was soaking wet and frozen and his teeth were chattering, but he did not seem to notice it.
Marianne, however, had no time to waste on savouring the joys of her recovered freedom. Time was short. The Riders of the Shadows had a long start and if by ill luck the Emperor should leave Malmaison too early – she dared not frame the rest of her thoughts in words but clung to Jason's arm.
'Can you find me a carriage! Quickly – very quickly.'
'I have one waiting a little way off, at the quai de Billy, near the place de la Conference.[7] Where do you want to go?'
'I must go to Malmaison, of course!'
He made a movement of protest.
'Not that again! The Emperor is well guarded. It will take more than a few fanatics to put him in danger. I mean to take you somewhere safe – and dry! And tomorrow, I will take you away—'
'Tomorrow, yes, I will go with you, but tonight, I implore you to let me save him! I know – I can feel that he is in danger.'
She felt the American's wet arm stiffen under her hand. He drew himself up and his eyes moved away from her to the darkly moving waters of the Seine.
'He—' he said with a rather bitter emphasis, 'how you speak of him! I thought you hated him?'
'I do not hate him any more. No more than I hate you any more now. You have acted like a friend, a true friend and that wipes out everything. Tomorrow, I tell you I will go with you because I shall have nothing more to do here and because I am tired of being continually in what you call all kinds of impossible scrapes. Perhaps, in your country, I may find peace.'
'I shall do everything in the world to help you,' he said gently. 'If it is in my power, you shall be happy.'
'Then if you really want my happiness,' she said eagerly, 'do as I ask you, Jason. Let me go to Malmaison. But quickly, I implore you, quickly! We are wasting so much time and every minute counts.'
A tremor ran through him when she spoke his name for the first time and Marianne's woman's intuition told her she had touched him. She was about to return to the attack when he suddenly bent over her and laying his hands on her shoulders, looked deep into her eyes.
'Tomorrow,' he said earnestly, 'you will go with me? You promise?'
'Yes. I promise.'
'Come then. I will take you there myself. We'll drive the horses into the ground, if need be, but we'll get there. Follow us, gentlemen. We'll talk as we go. There are dry clothes in the carriage.'
His voice rang suddenly joyful. Seizing Marianne by the hand, he ran with her along the dark river bank. Arcadius and young Pioche followed hard on their heels without further questions. They passed the buildings of the soap works and then those of the Depot des Marbres and then, as they came to the place de la Conference the shape of a carriage rose before them against the faint light of a lantern hung outside the shed where the fire-wagon was kept. It was then Arcadius leaned towards the boy who was running steadily beside him. He was chilled to the bone in his wet clothes but had lost none of his usual good humour for all that.
'Your name is really Gracchus-Hannibal?'
'Yes, monsieur, why?'
'Because my name is Arcadius!' was the apparently illogical answer. 'Do you know that together we represent Athens, Rome and Carthage? My boy, we have just created an alliance that not even the maddest historian ever dreamed of. And when you add to that the collaboration of America, you must admit the world has never seen a league like ours.'
'Yes, monsieur,' Gracchus-Hannibal said meekly, making no attempt to understand. 'But perhaps we'd better hurry on a bit. They're waving to us—'
'Quite right,' Arcadius said cheerfully. 'We have still to set the seal on our glory by saving the new Caesar! And a Corsican Caesar into the bargain!'
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Malmaison
Once past the vineyards of the Cote de St-Cloud, the road to Malmaison stretched on, dreary and all but deserted and bounded on either side only by waste ground and disused quarries. The snow had dwindled to a few isolated patches, like spilt milk on the dark landscape. Shortly before the bridge, they had come down the route de la Reine to the Boulogne crossroads and there they had parted from Gracchus-Hannibal who declared his intention of going to spend the night with his grandmother, a washerwoman in the route de la Revolt.
'Come and see me tomorrow at my hotel,' Jason Beaufort had called down to him from the box. 'We must have a talk together, you and I. About eleven.'
'Very well monsieur! I'll be there.'
He was about to leap out with a cheery goodnight to those whose saviour he had been when Marianne suddenly pulled him back and kissed him warmly on both cheeks.
'Thank you Gracchus. We are friends forever now.'
The darkness hid the deep blush which spread over the boy's face but as they moved on, Marianne heard him singing at the top of his voice.
'I know not whence this feeling comes
That grips me when I look at you—'
'Amazing!' Jolival remarked. 'He sings Mozart though he surely does not know it!'
The man of letters was settled comfortably in the carriage beside Marianne, but while she was tense with anxiety and trying vainly to control her fears, Arcadius was thoroughly enjoying the comfort of the vehicle and dry clothes he had found there. Beaufort's forethought had provided some for young Gracchus also. Marianne had been obliged to bury her head in the cushions while her companions changed, which was by no means easy owing to the fact that Beaufort had not delayed an instant for such formality.
Regardless of his wet clothes, Jason had climbed onto the box and settled himself beside the coachman. He had merely emptied his boots and wrapped himself in a great black cloak, remarking that there had been many worse times at sea. From time to time, Marianne could hear his clipped voice telling the coachman to press his horses harder.
Even so, it seemed to Marianne that they were barely moving. She sat, tense and strained, watching the trees go by. They had in fact come to a broken wooded stretch where it was difficult to go fast. Suddenly, Marianne turned to her companions.
'Did you manage to hear where they meant to attack the Emperor's carriage?'
Jolival nodded. 'They meant to hide at a place called Fond-Louvet,' he said 'not far from the Chateau de Rueil—'
'Near where the Empress lives? They are bold.'
'The Chateau de Rueil is not Malmaison, my dear child. It belongs to Marshal Massena, Duke of Rivoli, but the Marshal has just been made Prince of Essling and Thourars and has gone to visit his new lands. Besides, Massena is loyal to the dethroned Empress and has no wish to be involved in any of the Emperor's marriage plans. He prefers to be away at such a time.'
Marianne regarded her companion curiously.
'How do you know all this? To hear you, one would think you were familiar with the court?'
'And seeing my splendid appearance, you find that hard to believe, I daresay,' he said with a comical grin. 'My dear Marianne, you cannot imagine how much gossip one picks up in gaming houses. I am one of the best informed people in Paris, don't forget that.'
'Then, if that is so, answer me one question. How are we going to get into Malmaison and obtain a hearing?'
'To be quite frank with you, that's ju
st what I was thinking. One doesn't just walk into Malmaison. Perhaps we should have thought of that earlier.'
'We must get in, Arcadius. We must warn the Emperor. Is the chateau well guarded?'
'Like an imperial palace,' Jolival said gloomily. He shrugged. 'A detachment of the guard stationed at Rueil in the former barracks of the Swiss Guard are generally responsible for the former Empress's safety. I don't think we'll find it easy to persuade them to let us see Josephine, especially when we look like this!'
'Shall we be there soon?'
Arcadius leaned out of the window and glanced at the high wall past which the carriage was travelling at that moment.
'We are nearly there already,' he said as he threw himself back into his seat. 'This is the wall of the Chateau de Rueil. Malmaison is a little farther along, on the left.'
'But then – we must have gone right past the place where they are waiting for the Emperor? But we saw nothing?'
'Did you think they would show themselves? What an innocent you are. They are waiting off the road in an old quarry and they will not come out until the moment is right. But don't imagine they have missed our passing. The only thing to fear will be the watch they must have placed between the gates of Malmaison and Fond-Louvet.'
Suddenly, the carriage picked up speed. They were passing a pair of great gilded gates flanked by lodges with triangular pediments and square pilasters. Great bronze lanterns suspended from wrought-iron brackets shone on the golden lances of the gates and on the tricolor sentry boxes, by which were soldiers dressed in buff uniforms with green fronts and tall black shakos with yellow cockades.
'The Corsican Tirailleurs!' Jolival said. 'There is a world of affection in the choice of that regiment.'
Marianne said nothing. For the first time, this reference to Josephine, haloed in the great love Napoleon had born her, awoke her jealousy. It was true Josephine must be suffering now, seeing herself put aside to make room for another, but had not the best part of the Emperor's heart been hers? Compared with those long years lived side by side, Marianne thought bitterly that the hours at Butard were pitifully short.
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