by Marie Laval
He paused and added. ‘Especially after the foiled assassination attempt on the Comte the week before, in Lyon.’
He turned to Picard. ‘Commandant, would you please get us some more coffee?’
‘Of course, Colonel.’ Picard got up.
Hugo leant over the table.
‘This you might need to know,’ he started, striving to keep his voice matter-of-fact. ‘In the end, the King decided against a visit to Lyon and sent his brother to review the troops in his place. After an evening at the opera, the Comte d’Artois was waiting for his carriage when fireworks were thrown in the street, causing a panic. In the confusion, nobody noticed a man running at d’Artois, firing his pistol. It was sheer luck the King’s brother managed to open the carriage door and to jump in. The would-be killer ran off. Witnesses gave a vague description. A tall man. Very pale blond hair under a hat.’
Marie-Ange put her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry. ‘Do you think it was…?’
She didn’t need to say the name. Hugo narrowed his eyes and reclined back on his chair. ‘I do.’
Her face drained of all colour and she closed her eyes. Did she understand now how timely Norton’s decision to return to her was? The man needed a place to hide until the dust settled both for Fouché and himself, and where better than with his wife back in England? Yet Marie-Ange was so happy to have him back she didn’t even question his motives.
‘Why the King’s brother?’ she asked at last.
‘What if the purpose of the exercise was not, as we thought before, to clear the way for the emperor? What if whoever gave the order wanted to throw discredit on Napoleon and turn people against him? To make him start his new reign with a cold-blooded execution people were bound to blame him for.’
Marie-Ange shook her head. ‘But why would Fouché want to discredit him?’
‘The man has a hidden agenda, as usual.’
‘He is one of the emperor’s closest allies,’ she objected.
Hugo laughed bitterly. ‘You are very naïve. When it comes to power, allegiances shift. I have heard Fouché was plotting for the creation of a Republic with himself as head of state. King Louis was in poor health and the Comte d’Artois was next in line for the throne. His assassination would have killed two birds with one stone. It would have cleared the royalist camp and thrown discredit onto Napoleon.’
‘Then Fouché would suggest a completely new regime and become the leader,’ Marie-Ange finished.
‘The man is nothing if not patient. He may yet have his chance. Napoleon may not have the support he needs to govern for very long. He will soon lose the popular vote when he brings back conscription.’
‘Why? Do you think war is inevitable?’
‘Unfortunately, yes. Napoleon’s emissaries carrying his offers of peace weren’t even received by the various governments across Europe. Austria, Prussia, Great-Britain, and Russia will soon declare war on France. Napoleon needs to rebuild the army fast.’ He didn’t add that it couldn’t be done and that Napoleon was heading for disaster, along with tens of thousands of men. Including himself.
Picard came back with a jug of coffee. ‘There you are, Colonel,’ he said, pouring three cups.
Marie-Ange looked around and dropped her knife and fork on the table.
‘That man again!’ She pointed to the window. ‘I saw him yesterday in Chalons. I think he is one of Malleval’s men.’
Hugo turned to the window but whoever Marie-Ange had seen had already left. He turned to Picard. ‘Did you notice anyone following you since you left Beauregard?’
Picard shook his head, looking sheepish. ‘The roads were busy. I didn’t pay attention to the other travellers.’
Hugo stood up. ‘Let’s go after him, then.’ He ordered Marie-Ange to stay in the dining room and gestured to Picard and the two gendarmes to follow him.
As Marie-Ange finished her coffee, a boy dressed in dirty rags ran into the dining room. He pulled her arm and slipped an envelope into her hands.
‘What is that?’
The boy ran out without answering.
She ripped the paper and pulled out a thin sheet of paper. Something fell out onto the tiled floor. When she bent down to pick it up she saw that it was Sophie’s ruby ring. She read the note.
‘If you value the woman’s life, come alone now behind the church. Don’t tell anyone or we’ll kill her. Hurry.’
Someone had taken Sophie. Marie-Ange looked around her, a helpless feeling gathering in her stomach. Clutching the note and the ring, she rushed out just in time to see Saintclair and the gendarmes riding out of the courtyard. Her shoulders sagged. She bit her lip and looked around. What should she do? She feared a trap, yet couldn’t ignore the ultimatum in the note. She had to go to the rendez-vous.
She put the note and the ring back into the envelope thoughtfully and walked back inside.
‘Please give this to Colonel Saintclair when he comes back in. It’s very important,’ she said as she handed the envelope to the innkeeper.
‘Certainly, Madame.’ The man put the letter in his waistcoat pocket.
She climbed the stairs to her bedroom, grabbed her cloak and her reticule, and ran back down. Chagny was a small place. The streets were almost empty so early in the morning. The bells were ringing for the morning service when she arrived on the church square. Half a dozen women crept into the building through a small wooden door.
‘Bonjour, M’ame.’ A gruff male voice spoke behind her. She swirled round and found herself face to face with Rochefort. She stepped back in shock.
‘You! We all thought you were dead.’
He chuckled. ‘Not so. I fell through a trap and landed in a chamber below the crypt. There were several tunnels branching out and it didn’t take me long to gather I was in the disused salt mines. Monsieur was in a bad way when he crashed down on top of that stone tomb, but I managed to drag him along a tunnel far enough to avoid getting hurt by the blast of the explosion or hit by the rubble. It did take us a day or so to find our way out, but we made it.’ He came closer, and she smelled the pungent odour emanating from his shagpile coat.
‘You will come with me now.’ He took her elbow.
‘Where are you taking me? And where is Sophie?’ Marie-Ange tried to gain time. She couldn’t believe Uxeloup was alive. Had he managed to retrieve the Cross of Life too?
Rochefort walked quickly, pulling her along narrow, deserted alleyways. They soon left the village behind and found themselves near a farm. A black carriage with four tall horses and two men on the driver’s box waited on the road. Her captor opened the door and pushed Marie-Ange inside. He climbed in after her.
‘Sit down.’ He sat opposite her and the carriage started.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Malleval. Now be quiet, or…’ He showed her a flask and a handkerchief. She remembered the foul smelling cloth Karloff had put over her face in St Genis to send her to sleep.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said. She needed all her wits about her. There might be a chance of escape before they reached their destination.
There wasn’t. They travelled all day and part of the night, stopping at isolated inns to feed and rest the horses and use the rest room. Rochefort never let her stray far from his sight. He had bread, cheese and bottles of wine in a basket for himself and his men.
‘Do you want some?’ He asked her gruffly. She accepted and forced some food down. She had to keep her strength up.
Rochefort drank a long gulp of wine and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. ‘So the Captain and the gendarmes fell for our ruse it, what half-wits!’ He laughed.
‘What do you mean?’
‘They walked straight into our trap and followed our decoy. Must be in Autun by now! Saintclair may be able to deal with royalist rebels but he’s not so clever when it comes to dealing with the men from the Pilat.’ He took another swig of wine.
She ignored him. ‘Where is Uxeloup?’
‘Waiting for us
.’ Rochefort narrowed his beady eyes. He shook his head with mocking pity. ‘What a waste…I think I’ll ask him for a little time alone with you before we get down to business.’
‘What business?’
He grunted but didn’t answer.
Although she tried to stay awake, she eventually gave in to the rocking motion of the carriage as night fell. A harsh jolt woke her up. Glancing out of the window, she saw that they had arrived at Malleval.
Rochefort grumbled. ‘About time!’
He kicked the door open and jumped down. Marie-Ange shivered in the cold. The past couple of weeks had been mild at Beauregard, with a hint of spring in the air. Tonight however she had travelled back into winter. A snowstorm was blowing in the rugged Pilat mountains.
The wooden doors of the fortress were wide open as they approached and they entered the hall.
‘Follow me.’ A man holding a torch led the way down a dark corridor.
‘I’ll tell Monsieur you have arrived,’ he said before leaving Marie-Ange and Rochefort alone in a large room dominated by an enormous stone fireplace bearing the arms of the Mallevals.
A + M. Ante Morte. Before Death. The Death both Edmond and Uxeloup refused.
The fire in the hearth was the only light in the room. Marie-Ange walked to a long table with a marble top on which a silver tray with medical instruments was placed. Long, sharp blades, lancets, curved and twisted implements, a pile of cloth and a white porcelain bowl. She felt a shiver of fear run down her spine.
‘What are these for?’ Her voice quivered.
‘All in good time.’ Rochefort pointed to an armchair positioned in front of the fireplace. ‘Take your coat off and sit down.’
She wrapped herself more tightly in her cloak and remained near the table. She was in terrible danger. Last time she was here, Uxeloup and Karloff wanted something from her. The words from her mother’s song to locate the Cross of Life. What did they seek from her tonight? She had nothing to offer them.
‘Sit down, I said!’
This time she did as she was told. Rochefort seemed nervous. She looked around the room shrouded in shadows and gasped. In one corner, placed on a high console table, was the Cross of Life standing on the glass phial with the relic inside. So Rochefort and Uxeloup had saved it from Arginy.
‘How did you travel back here after the explosion? I mean, all your men either died at Arginy or fled.’
‘I waited near the main road, hidden in the undergrowth, while Monsieur rested. We were in luck. A couple of peasants drove past in their cart. It was child’s play to ambush and kill them, then hide Monsieur in the back of the cart. It took us a few days to reach Malleval but we made it.’
‘How is Uxeloup now?’ Surely with the advancing ravages of the syphilis and his fall at Arginy, he must be in a very bad shape.
‘Not good.’
‘Where is Sophie? Why did you take her from Beauregard?’
Rochefort stood up abruptly and came to stand in front of her.
‘Will you shut up?’ He raised his big hand as if he wanted to strike her. She recoiled in her seat. He shrugged and went back to his seat.
Outside, a gale was howling, blowing freezing gusts down the chimney into the fireplace, threatening to extinguish the tall flames as if they were tiny candles. Marie-Ange tried not to move or make a sound. Time passed. Rochefort nodded off in his armchair. His head rolled forward and he was breathing loudly, making a snuffling noise. For the first time since she left Chagny, she had a chance of escape.
Cautiously, she stood up and tiptoed towards the door. There were probably guards both in the castle and outside but she had to try.
The door flung open as she was half way across the room. She froze with horror. In front of her stood a man so emaciated he was hardly more than a skeleton. His pale, transparent skin stretched over his bones and was marred with scratches and purplish bruises. His eyes were hollow and feverish.
‘Here you are. At last.’ He shuffled like an old man across the floor.
‘Uxeloup!’ She gasped, putting her hand in front of her mouth. She stepped back.
‘Monsieur. Come and sit down.’ Rochefort stood up. He rubbed his face roughly with his hand and tried to take Uxeloup’s arm.
The former Hussar shook him off. ‘No time for a rest. We need to do this now. Before my strength leaves me for good.’
‘Do what?’ Marie-Ange asked, feeling the blood drain from her face.
Uxeloup gestured towards Rochefort. ‘Lie her down on the table and tie her up.’
‘What do you want with me?’ She screamed as the big man grabbed her waist and lifted her up onto the marble table top.
Uxeloup gave her an evil glare.
‘You are going to give me your heart.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘I should have understood before,’ Uxeloup said. ‘The answer was there all along, in the parchments from the Knights Templar. A pure heart and the Master Keepers’ bloodline were needed to unlock the relic’s power.’
He turned his crazed eyes to the Cross of Life. His body was seized by a coughing fit that seemed to drain him of all his strength.
‘What exactly do you mean to do?’ Marie-Ange’s voice quivered as panic welled inside her.
Uxeloup pointed to the surgical instruments on the table.
‘Hold your heart in my hand. Drink your blood so that it runs inside my body, then I’ll be able to handle the Cross and gain eternal life at last.’
She shuddered violently as she contemplated the gruesome death Uxeloup had in store for her.
‘Karloff guessed what I meant to do.’ He shook his head. ‘Old fool…He told Sophie of my plan yesterday and turned her against me. After that he tried to run away from my men at Beauregard. He should have known better.’
‘Where is Sophie now?’ She had to keep him talking for as long as possible. But then what? Nobody was coming to rescue her this time. Her father and his remaining Turcopilar companion had returned to Sicily, and Hugo was off on a wild goose chase.
‘Upstairs.’ Uxeloup’s eyes grew darker. ‘She won’t come with me on the journey. She won’t even talk to me.’
He coughed again, and then gestured to Rochefort. ‘This time I will succeed. I have to, after the fiasco at Arginy and the way I failed my father.’
He pulled a small silver flask from his pocket and showed it to Marie-Ange.
‘Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing.’
It was now or never! She refused to be butchered by this maniac without attempting an escape. She darted for the door so suddenly both men were taken by surprise. She pushed two heavy chairs over to block their way. Flinging the door open, her heart thumping hard, she ran down the corridor. Rochefort’s heavy footsteps resounded behind. They were getting closer.
‘Damn you!’ He shouted as he caught the hood of her cloak and pulled her sharply towards him.
He lifted her up as if she was just a bundle of rags. She kicked and wrestled against his chest, but he didn’t seem to feel anything. Instead he pulled her hair sharply, yanking her head backward, and slapped her in the face. The force of his blow took her breath away. She stopped struggling, her strength ebbed and her mind drifted into unconsciousness. The last thought she had before darkness engulfed her was that Hugo would never know how much she had loved him.
She was floating on the angel’s wing. Down below was Malleval’s fortress and the village perched on the snow-covered mountains. Nobody could reach her now. She was safe. Muffled voices and the clinking of metal instruments close by intruded on her dream and she fought her way slowly to consciousness. She opened her eyes. Two blurred figures moved against the glow of the fire. Uxeloup and Rochefort. She wasn’t safe at all. Bile rose in her throat. She coughed and tried to turn to her side to be sick but she couldn’t move. Her hands were bound tightly on each side to the table legs. She shivered from fear and from cold. Her dress was open at the front, her chest exposed. A cold object pressed do
wn on her stomach.
‘Please, don’t…’ She moaned.
Uxeloup stood over her. He was holding a sharp, shiny scalpel. Through a daze she saw him lean closer. She mustered all her strength to struggle free, but it was no good. Her binds were too tight.
‘She’s awake. She needs more draught,’ he said.
He took out his silver flask again and brought it near her lips. As he held her head to force her to drink, a loud explosion outside shook the fortress’s walls. It was followed by shouting and the firing of pistols. Startled, he dropped the flask on the floor.
‘What’s going on out there? Where are the men?’
‘A moment, Monsieur. I will investigate,’ Rochefort said as he walked away.
‘Damn!’ Uxeloup stepped back.
Marie-Ange breathed a sigh of relief. She heard the door open and light footsteps walk across the floor.
‘Sophie, ma chérie! Have you changed your mind?’ Uxeloup asked. His voice was soft, full of hope.
‘No, Uxeloup, I have not.’
Marie-Ange heard sounds of a struggle, then a whimper of pain and the thud of a body collapsing onto the floor.
‘I am so sorry, my love. I couldn’t let you do this,’ Sophie cried out.
Marie-Ange felt fingers on her wrists, untying her binds.
‘Quick, there is no time.’ Sophie attempted to lift Marie-Ange’s head off the table. ‘The fortress is under attack. I don’t know if it’s the gendarmes or the army. We need to get out through the back door.’
Marie-Ange sat up and something rolled onto her lap. It was the glass phial with the relic inside. Uxeloup had placed it there, ready for him to handle once he’d cut her heart… She started shaking.
‘So that’s what it was all about.’ Sophie took the phial and lifted it towards the light of the fire to peer at the piece of fabric inside. ‘It doesn’t look much like an angel wing, does it?’
She helped Marie-Ange stand up and put her dress back in order. Marie-Ange kept hold of the glass phial and, with a last look at Uxeloup’s crumpled form on the floor, the two women walked from the study. The fortress was dark and deserted. They hurried along empty corridors through the kitchen and a pantry. Sophie pushed the door open into the snowstorm outside. The gale had not abated during the night. If anything, it was stronger. Snowflakes swirled madly all around. Gusts of icy cold wind slapped Marie-Ange’s cheeks.
