The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘Nevertheless, it’s going to be a big help to me. I’ll reap the reflected benefit of their liking for you. Young Jean Greuze is nice, too. He comes from Pontoise, near Paris, and his father owns a little news sheet and sweet shop. He absolutely worships you for having taken him from the hard life of an ordinary soldier.’

  ‘He’s a good lad, but delicate and not up to the hard life of the rank and file. As an officer’s servant, too, he gets more and better food than he would if with his regiment.’

  ‘The food I was given for supper surprised me. There was a good choice, it was well cooked and there was plenty of everything. I’d gathered from you that the troops in Moscow were half-starving.’

  ‘They were when they got here. Since then they have not done too badly, but supplies are getting short again and you must not take the fare that Sergeant Loriel gives his boys as a criterion. Mess servants are the lucky ones, they feed nearly as well as the officers. The men in the regiments have to make do on biscuits, cheese and stew with only a few bits of meat in it. But come, my love, we must get some sleep.’

  The room was one of many hundred in the vast Palace which, before the coming of the French, had been occupied by Court officials and officers of the Imperial Guard; so it was well furnished in the heavy Russian style, and they were soon snuggled up in the big, four-poster bed. The thought of what Mary might have to face by being brought to Moscow as his servant had greatly worried Roger. But he dropped off to sleep with the comforting thought that things had gone much better than he had expected.

  When the bugles sounded the reveille, they got up. He told Mary where she could fill the water cans at a washroom along the corridor, then they washed and dressed and crossed the square to have their breakfasts. Before he left her he said that, as soon as she got back, she had better set to work polishing one of his pairs of field boots, so that when Greuze arrived he would find her busy.

  On his return he found them both in his room, talking cheerfully and making the bed together. When they had finished he said, ‘I am going out to make some purchases, and I wish you both to come with me.’

  There were no longer shops in the city where one could buy things, but there was a strange market in the big square outside the Governor’s Palace, where a part of the Imperial Guard was billeted. The vendors in the market were troops of many nations and camp-followers. When they needed money or drink or clothes, they brought pieces of their loot there and bartered them for whatever they wanted.

  Many of them had small carts that they used as stalls, and Roger persuaded a Pole to part with his, which was a good, solid one in sound condition, for a tempting sum of money. When the man had emptied it of his things, Greuze placed himself between the shafts and pulled it along for Roger to put other purchases in.

  Going from one stall to another, he bought high boots, sheepskin breeches, long fur coats and fur mittens for Mary and Greuze. His own clothes were of good, stout cloth, and he had a fine fur that he had bought the previous January in Stockholm, so he needed only a muff for himself when he bought muffs for them. His next purchase was two large fur carriage rugs and, after that, a good supply of flints, tinder and six dozen candles. The choice of goods at the food stalls was limited; there was little meat or game, but he was not looking for perishable goods. There was plenty of tea, so he bought several pounds quite cheaply, but a supply of sugar and half a stone of oatmeal cost him a lot of money. By chance, on one stall he saw some boxes of candied fruit, so he bought them all and from another stall a dozen bottles of brandy. His final purchase, as an afterthought, was a block of salt. Except for the furs and the tea, he had had to pay from five to twenty times the normal price for the things he had bought, so he had spent the greater part of his money; but he had big arrears of pay on which he could draw and he knew that if he had waited until the afternoon, by which time he thought it as good as certain that it would be announced that the army was leaving Moscow, he would have had to pay three times as much.

  Back at the Kremlin, his two servants carried all the things upstairs, then he said to them, ‘You, Greuze, are to come with me and wheel the cart round to the stables. Then return here and give a hand to Hipé. I want the two of you to sew together the sides and one end of the two big fur carriage rugs, so that they will serve as a large sleeping bag.’

  Ten minutes later he was talking to the Guards Sergeant-Major, who was in charge of the horses belonging to the Emperor’s entourage. Producing all that remained of his gold, he pointed to the little cart and said, ‘I want you to get me a small horse or, better still, a mule to draw that.’

  The Sergeant-Major made a face. ‘That won’t be easy, sir. You know how terrible short we are of horses. The number we lost on the way here doesn’t bear telling; and fodder being so short, a good third of the poor beasts that did get here have died from lack of it since.’

  ‘I know, Joux,’ Roger replied. ‘But an animal I must have. Procure me a good one—a good one, mind—and there are thirty napoleons for you. If all else fails, commandeer a mule from the Italians.’

  ‘You shall have your beast, Colonel,’ the Sergeant-Major grinned. ‘Leave it to me.’

  In the A.D.C.s’ Mess, Roger learned that the members of the conference the Emperor had called had wrangled for three hours, but the meeting was now over and the decision he had anticipated had been taken. The army was to evacuate Moscow and winter in Smolensk.

  Opinion on the wisdom of retreating was sharply divided. Several of the younger A.D.C.s were young nobles: ex-émigrés with famous names, whom the Emperor had taken on his staff for his own aggrandisement. They were all in favour of retreat. The Niemen, which formed the frontier, was some six hundred miles distant, and Smolensk was getting on for half-way to it; so, like Duroc, they argued that, being so much nearer Poland, it would be much easier both to keep open the lines of communication and keep the army supplied.

  But the older A.D.C.s who had served through many campaigns, did not agree. In such conditions the army could not be expected to march more than fifteen miles a day. That meant that it would be the first week in November before it reached Smolensk. Just as the summer had proved exceptionally hot, so the autumn weather was unusually fine and sunny. But could it be expected to last? If the snow came early, it would slow down the speed of the march and, as the troops would have to sleep in the open, it would inflict terrible hardship upon them. A great part of Moscow was in ruins, but so was Smolensk, and it was a far smaller city, so was much less easy to defend. Even if the army was cut off and Moscow besieged, they could somehow hang out there. The hardened campaigners had tightened their belts before; up in the Alps, during the siege of Genoa, on the retreat from Acre to Egypt, and many other places. They could do so again, and stick it out until reinforcements reached them in the spring.

  The midday meal over, everyone set about his preparations for departure. Roger had already made his, so had only to see the Paymaster and refill his money belt with gold. In the evening he went again to the stables. Sergeant-Major Joux had got for him a sturdy mule. Having made a careful examination of the animal’s hooves, Roger willingly paid over the sum he had promised.

  Over supper he learned that the Emperor had decided to leave Mortier and his Young Guard in the city, to give the enemy the impression that he meant only to strengthen his line of communication with part of the main army, then return. The Young Guard was to follow a few days later.

  On the morning of October 19th, after occupying Moscow for thirty-nine days, the Grand Army began its evacuation of the city.

  But it was a very different army from that which had entered it after Borodino. Then the battalions had marched in, column after column, in impressive military formation. Now, it was one vast horde, in which troops were mingled with camp-followers. The men were determined to take their loot with them. Many of them were wearing women’s furs, or had costly brocade curtains draped over them. There were hundreds upon hundreds of wagons, carts, carriages and hand barrows,
in fact everything left in the city that had wheels. All of them were piled high with furniture, bronzes, pictures, china, carpets, clothes, cooking utensils, antiques, jewel-encrusted weapons and sacks of food. On the top of many of them were perched women, mostly Russian whores who, unlike the vivandières, were unused to foot-slogging. About a third of the carts and carriages were drawn by horses or large dogs. The rest were pulled and pushed by groups of men wearing the uniforms of many nations: French, Italian, Polish, Prussian, Czech, Hanoverian, Swiss, Hessian, Dutch, Westphalian, Croat, Wurtenbergs, Albanian with, here and there, groups of Russian prisoners.

  Only the Old Guard marched out in good order, with bands playing and tricolours fluttering beneath the gilded Eagles.

  Of the five hundred thousand men and women who had crossed the Niemen toward the end of June, fewer than one in five were destined to live to recross it in December.

  23

  Death Takes Something on Account

  On the advance from Kovno to Moscow, the Grand Army had cut a great swathe through the country, leaving not a thing to eat behind it and very little shelter. But the swathe did not extend for much more than twenty miles on either side of the highway, owing to the limited distances that forays of horsemen could cover and be back by night with the main force, secure from capture by the Cossacks. Well aware of this, the Russians had refrained from scorching the earth outside the limits within which Napoleon’s troops could commit their depredations.

  The Emperor had therefore decided that, instead of retreating by the way he had come, he would march south-east to Kalouga, as that would enable the army to march through unspoiled country, where there were still inhabited towns and villages, hay-filled barns and, with luck, a number of horses and cattle.

  The thought of new territory to plunder greatly cheered the men, but the Generals and Staff were not so happy. They knew that Kutuzov’s main army lay out on that flank and, only the previous day, Murat’s cavalry had suffered a severe defeat in the neighbourhood of Tarutino, which was not far off the route they were to take. But, after five weeks of inactivity, everyone seemed to have taken new heart at again being on the move.

  Napoleon, riding his grey, wearing the plain uniform of the Guides and his undecorated tricorne hat, rode between two battalions of the Guard, immediately followed by his staff. Behind them, under Duroc’s quartermaster, came the headquarters’ baggage train. In addition to its own wagons, a number of others had been commandeered to carry the trophies, loot collected by the staff and a big supply of food reserved for the entourage. A number of them had also secured small vehicles to transport their personal belongings. These followed the wagons with, among them, Mary on her mount and Greuze walking beside the mule.

  At midday the Emperor, his people and the Guard halted for a picnic meal at the roadside, clearing the highway for the endless stream of mixed units to continue their march. As Roger watched them going by, he decided they were in better trim than he had judged them to be earlier that morning. Although, at a casual glance, they had the appearance of an incredible rabble, their officers had got them into some sort of order, so that different units were at least distinguishable and, if attacked, could swiftly be called on to leave temporarily the motley collection of vehicles carrying their loot, supplies and women, and get into fighting formations. In general, too, the health of the men appeared better than it had after their long march to Moscow and the terrible battle of Borodino. The majority of those whose wounds had not been too serious for them to stagger as far as the city had since recovered. While in Moscow, for the first few weeks they had enjoyed an abundance of food and, even recently, their rations had been reasonably adequate. Rest and relaxation had put new spirit into them. Many of the groups were singing as they marched and, as they passed the Emperor, they cheered him with something of their old enthusiasm.

  The worst weakness of the army was its shortage of horses. Roger noted that in most cases artillery units had had to leave behind their second-line ammunition limbers and, in many cases, the guns and first-line limbers were drawn by only four or two horses, instead of the normal six. A great part of the cavalry, too, was no longer mounted, but now sharing the lot of the foot-slogging infantry. However, as relays of remounts were constantly being sent up from Poland, at least the French cavalrymen could hope to be in the saddle again by the time they reached Smolensk.

  On their first night out of Moscow, the miles-long column bivouacked at the roadside and had an opportunity to try out such arrangements as they had made to secure for themselves as much comfort as possible. The Emperor sent Roger and his other A.D.C.s to ride some way along the road and see how the men were faring. In the neighbourhood there were many woods of pine and larch, among which fuel could be collected, so the hundreds of bivouac fires blazed merrily, and the A.D.C.s were able to report that morale was good; also that nearly everywhere, in addition to the rations with which the troops had been issued, they had brought with them stocks of food of their own.

  But early in the morning the news that the staff had feared came in. Strong Russian forces, possibly Kutuzov’s main army, were advancing toward them, so the Emperor, being most averse to fighting a battle at that moment, sent orders to the head of the column that it should leave the road for Kalouga and turn off to Malo-Jaroslavitz. Nevertheless, many attacks by Cossacks had to be beaten off, and it was clear that they were not going to be allowed to continue their march in immunity.

  Then, on the 25th, Kutuzov launched General Dokhturov’s division against the centre of the marching column as it was passing through Malo-Jaroslavitz. The French were taken by surprise and the action very nearly proved fatal to the Emperor. Early that morning he had ridden out, accompanied by some fifty officers, to make a personal reconnaissance. Suddenly a horde of Cossacks broke from a wood, yelling their war-cry, ‘Hourra! Hourra!’, and came galloping toward the little cavalcade.

  Napoleon had never lacked for courage. He drew his sword and his companions followed his example. Next moment the Cossacks were upon them. The French were outnumbered three to one. There ensued a wild mêlée. Several men on both sides were killed or wounded. Roger escaped being run through with a lance only by throwing himself violently sideways. As he did so, he slashed out with his sword and severed the Cossack’s arm at the elbow. Rapp was less fortunate. A lance dealt him his twenty-third wound and he was thrown from his horse. The fight raged furiously; but only for a few minutes. The Hetman of the Cossacks sighted a convoy of wagons in the near distance. Having failed to recognise the Emperor and realise what a prize he was forgoing, he called his men off and led them toward the wagons, more eager for loot than slaughter. At that moment, having heard the shouts of the combatants, two squadrons of Chasseurs and a troop of the Cavalry of the Guard came charging up. They fell upon the Cossacks and routed them. But the battle was on. Dokhturov was attacking all along the line.

  For several hours the units of the Grand Army in the area were in grave peril; then Eugene arrived with his Italians and was followed by Davout. By then Kutuzov had brought up his main forces and a general engagement took place. All day there was desperate fighting. The battle continued until long after dark, and it was not until close on midnight that the French succeeded in driving the Russians out of Malo-Jaroslavitz.

  Frantic with anxiety, Roger went in search of Mary. At last he found her. She and young Greuze had taken refuge under their cart. Twice they had been charged over. Only one Russian had spotted and attempted to kill them; but Greuze had brought up his musket and shot him dead at close quarters.

  The Emperor was now faced with a question of paramount importance. Should he renew the battle next day and gamble everything on succeeding in breaking through to Kalouga—or should he abandon that route and take another?

  It was known that General Tchitchagov had now brought up his army from the lower Danube and this reinforcement made the Russians much superior in numbers. On the morning of the 26th, Bessières went out on a reconnaissance.
His report was pessimistic and decided the Emperor to retreat north on Mojaisk. The decision was fatal. It drove the last nail into the coffin of the Grand Army.

  In taking it, Napoleon had supposed that, though he must abandon the advantage of marching through country that had not been scorched, he would be compensated by the depots of stores that he believed to have been established in every town and village through which the army had marched to Moscow. Throughout August, September and the first half of October, thousands of head of cattle, quintals of wheat and tons of flour had been despatched from Poland. By this time they should have been available at intervals all along the road, in readiness to supply the army should it be forced to retreat. But many of the depots had never been filled, and many more were empty. Millions of pounds’ worth of supplies had simply vanished.

  In many cases they had been carried off by raiding Cossacks before they reached their destination; but there had been a far more serious drain upon them. During the advance, the Grand Army had left in its wake tens of thousands of wounded and deserters. The wounded had had to be fed, and the deserters were determined not to starve as long as their weapons could obtain for them food and liquor. As bands of them had made their way toward Poland, they had attacked the depots and carried off their contents. The Grand Army, still eighty thousand strong, and making up for the casualties it sustained by being joined by the troops who had guarded the lines of communication, must now retrace its steps along the scorched-earth swathe in which neither food nor fodder was to be found.

  Until the last days of October, the weather remained sunny; but then the skies became overcast, a biting wind got up that swept across the plain and the first flurries of snow gave a warning of what was to come. At Mojaisk the head of the column debouched on to the road by which it had marched to Moscow, and turned west toward Poland. Forty miles further on, the army suffered the most terrible blow possible to its morale. It had to cross the battlefield of Borodino.