As they slowly wound their way northward they met other travellers with some of whom Roger discussed the war. The news of Napoleon's crushing defeat at the Battle of the Nations had sped ahead of them, and the inhabitants of every German village were wild with delight. Here and there they were passed by bands of irregulars, all now marching south, with the hope of joining in the pursuit of the broken French.
It was not until they reached Brunswick that they saw any French troops at all. But the city was an important junction so Davout still kept a strong garrison there, and the citizens were clearly overawed by the groups of surly-looking Grenadiers who patrolled the main streets or lounged, silent and unhappy, in the cafes.
While working with Berthier, Roger had frequently heard Davout's position discussed. After the retreat from Moscow, the Emperor had made him Governor of the Lower Elbe, and instructed him to turn Hamburg into an impregnable fortress from which, in conjunction with their Danish allies, he could hold down the whole of northwest Germany.
No choice for such a task could have been better than the 'Iron Marshal', as Davout, Prince d'Eckmuhl and Duc d'Auerstadt, was called by the Army. He was the only Marshal who had studied and understood Napoleon's revolutionary methods of warfare, so was a very formidable soldier. He was also an able administrator, completely ruthless and the strictest of disciplinarians.
In Napoleon's two bids, earlier in the year, to take Berlin, he had hoped that Davout might come to the assistance of Ney and Oudinot. That he had been unable to do, because his limited forces were already stretched to the utmost putting down patriotic risings in Hanover, Mecklenburg and Brunswick; but he had carried out his assignment regarding Hamburg with an iron hand. The whole of Germany being in a state of semi-starvation, to conserve his supplies he had first forcibly evacuated three thousand children; then, also as useless mouths, all the elderly people in the city. To reduce to a minimum secret subscriptions by citizens to patriotic societies and subversive movements, he had inflicted taxes on the wealthy that had reduced them to near poverty, and imprisoned many of the leading merchants as hostages. His dread tribunals sat daily, and sent to execution anyone found guilty of having offended against even his minor ordinances.
The state of gloom and terror existing in the great port on the Elbe had been confirmed by several Germans to whom Roger had recently spoken; so when, on October 27th, he came in sight of the city spires, he knew how matters stood there, but he did not intend to enter the city. Some three miles outside the walls he had Dopet turn into a coppice and there the two of them changed from their ill-fitting civilian clothes back into uniform. They then took a side road to Herrenhausen, which lay just outside the city. Near it stood an ancient castle that, until the end of the past century, had been the residence of the sovereigns of Great Britain when they visited their Kingdom of Hanover. It was there that Davout had had his headquarters in 1810 when, before the Russian campaign, he had been commanding in Hamburg and Roger had been sent to him on a mission.
It was soon after midday when the Mess cart, now driven by Dopet and with Roger riding in it, pulled up outside the great gate of the castle. As Roger got out of the cart the sentry came smartly to attention and presented arms. Roger's surmise that Davout had again made the place his headquarters proved correct. The sergeant of the guard sent a man to show Dopet where to stable his cob and cart, and another to escort Roger up to the Marshal Prince's quarters.
Having announced himself as Colonel Comte de Breuc to an adjutant there, Roger learned that Davout had ridden in to the city that morning, but was expected back to dinner. Deciding to put his necessary wait to good advantage, Roger asked to be conducted to the department that dealt with officer prisoners-of-war. He was taken to a room in one of the towers, where a sergeant was shuffling through some papers. Duly impressed by Roger's sash, which proclaimed him to be an A.D.C. to the Emperor, the sergeant hastened to produce a ledger and he was soon able to tell Roger that Charles was a prisoner with some hundred other officers at Schloss Bergedorf, which was some ten miles distant.
Immensely relieved to learn that Charles was still alive, and at having at last run his quarry to earth, Roger went down the spiral stairs, enquired the whereabouts of the anteroom to the Marshal's office, and sat down there to await his return.
The wait was a long one, but at about half-past four Davout, grim-faced as ever, came striding in, his spurs clinking and his riding boots resounding on the parquet.
Roger promptly stood up, came to attention and saluted.
Halting abruptly, the Marshal gave him an unsmiling stare and asked, 'What brings you here, Breuc?'
'I come, Your Highness, from His Imperial Majesty,' Roger replied.
Davout motioned toward his office. 'Come in then, and give me such news as you have of him.'
When Roger had followed him in and been waved to a chair, he said, 'Alas, Your Highness, I can tell you no more than that I last saw the Emperor in Leipzig shortly before disaster overtook our army. But I have a warrant from him that he ordered me to present to you.'
As he spoke, Roger produced the paper he had obtained from Napoleon, ordering that Charles should be handed over to him, and placed it on Davout's desk.
Passing a hand over his bald head, the Marshal read it through quickly, then asked, 'What is the reason for this? Why does the Emperor wish me to transfer the custody of this young Englishmen to you?'
'Because I have a special interest in him, Your Highness. As you may know, my mother was English, and this youth is my nephew. The Emperor graciously agreed that, if possible, I should be allowed to make arrangements for him to be sent back to England, on condition that he did not serve actively again in the war against us.'
Davout frowned. ‘I am most strongly opposed to sentiment being allowed to interfere with war. You should be engaged on your proper duties instead of travelling many miles to secure the release of a relative who is an enemy. However, that is not in my jurisdiction, and the Emperor's command must be obeyed. I will find out where this officer is being held prisoner.'
'While awaiting your return I took the liberty of doing so, Your Highness. He is at Schloss Bergedorf.'
'Schloss Bergedorf!' repeated Davout, with a sudden lift of his grey eyebrows. 'Then he may no longer be there. Some days ago, when the prisoners at the Schloss learned of our defeat at Leipzig, they got out of hand. There was a mutiny. Several were shot, but twenty-seven broke prison and escaped.'
Roger went pale. He swallowed hard, then gasped, 'Do you ... do you know if St. Ermins was among them?'
The Marshal's face took on a vicious look and his voice was almost a snarl. 'No, I do not. But one thing. I do know. I have given orders that any of the escapers who are recaptured are to be hanged.'
'Hanged!' Roger came to his feet. 'But you can't do that! Even if you condemn them to death, which would be unjustifiably severe, they are officers, so they have the right to be shot.'
'Silence!' Davout snapped. 'Who are you that you should dare to tell me my business? To hold down these German curs is the hardest task I have ever had. Officers they may be, but they are Germans and, until recently, our allies. By turning their coats they have become traitors. The penalty of a traitor who is caught is to be hanged, and this will serve as a warning to any of their compatriots who are my prisoners and tempted to make trouble.'
‘I pray to God then that none of those who escaped will be recaptured.'
'Then you'll pray in vain,' the Marshal retorted harshly. 'Nine of them were recaptured this morning. They will be given a few hours to see priests if they wish, and make known their last wishes. But before sunset they will be dancing at the end of ropes.'
18
Fate Strikes Again
For a moment Roger gazed at the Marshal in horror. Several of the prisoners had been shot while trying to escape, and now nine who had been recaptured were to be hanged. He had no doubt that Charles was among the latter.
Fantastic as i
t seemed, the scene Georgina had witnessed in her crystal had, after all, been a true vision of the future. Even more fantastic, Fate had caused him to travel many hundreds of miles uselessly and delayed him again and again in his search for Charles, yet brought him within a few miles of the place where a rope was to be put round his neck, on the very day he was condemned to die. Clearly this was the work of Providence; there could be no doubt of that.
But suddenly it flashed into Roger's mind that the issue was not yet settled. Unless he could reach Schloss Bergedorf within an hour or so it might be too late. He might find Charles's body, with that of eight others, dangling from the branches of trees. Without another word to Davout, he turned and strode toward the door.
'Halt!' came the sharp command from behind him.
Automatically he obeyed and again faced the Marshal, who glowered at him and said, 'You seem to have forgotten the respect due to a senior officer, Colonel.'
Roger saluted. 'My apologies, Your Highness. The peril in which my nephew stands drove all other thoughts temporarily from my mind.'
'You seem very attached to this nephew of yours.'
'I am indeed.'
'Yet you are citizens of different countries, which have for many years been at war. You cannot have seen him since he was a child.'
Galling as it was to Roger to have to waste precious moments giving an explanation to the Marshal, there was no avoiding it, and he replied, 'As I stated a moment back, Highness, by blood I am half English. Moreover, I was brought up there, and still have many acquaintances in that country who believe me to be an Englishman. His Imperial Majesty has long been aware of this, and on numerous occasions has sent me to England in secret to report to him upon the morale of our enemies. During these visits, which were at times several months in duration, I naturally saw a great deal of my relations.'
Davout nodded. 'So that is the way of things. Even so, you could not have known that the boy was likely to be hanged, and merely to obtain his release I marvel that you should have risked showing yourself in northern Germany.'
'I see no reason why I should have feared to do so,' Roger replied, inwardly fuming at having to carry on this conversation when every minute was so precious. 'Your Highness's being in command of this territory is guarantee enough that, apart from exceptional circumstances, all French officers are safe here.'
'You are right, but you mention exceptional circumstances^—and they apply to you.'
'In what way, may I ask ?'
'Surely you have not forgotten that in 1810 you were tried by a Prussian court for the murder of your wife and the Baron von Haugwitz, found guilty and condemned to death?'
Roger frowned. 'I recall very vividly, Highness, that most unpleasant experience, resulting from my being unable to prove my innocence. Also that I owe my life to your having induced the King of Prussia to commute my sentence to ten years' imprisonment.'
'I felt that I could do no less for a French officer whom I knew to have served my Emperor well on numerous occasions. But I was thinking of the present. When we met again last year in Russia, you told me that you served only a few months of your sentence, then succeeded in escaping when being transferred from one prison to another, through an attack on the convoy by a mob of rebellious students. Now that Prussia has betrayed us and become our enemy, owing to the great scarcity of food bodies of Prussian troops frequently raid my territory in the hope of securing supplies. Should you run into one of these raiding parties and someone in it chances to recognise you, I've not a doubt but that they'll carry you off with them to serve the other nine years or more of your sentence.'
Giving a hasty glance at the clock with frantic anxiety, Roger saw that it was now past five. As it was late October there could not be much more than an hour of daylight left. Swallowing hard, he said, 'That is a chance, Highness, that I must take. I beg you now excuse me.' Then he saluted and ran from the room.
Below in the stables he found a sergeant farrier, who picked out for him a good, strong horse and had it saddled up. Since being shot through the calf, Roger had ridden only on a few occasions and then at a walk. He had not yet even attempted to wear riding boots, but swathed his
legs in spirals of blue cloth. Now, ride he must and at the fastest pace he could manage, for Charles's life hung on a matter of minutes.
While the horse was being saddled he got out his map to make certain of the road to Bergedorf. It lay on a main road south-east of Hamburg and he must have passed within three miles of it that morning. Mounting the horse he found it more mettlesome than he could have wished, and had difficulty in holding it back to a trot as soon as he had passed out of the great gateway.
Now that he was trotting for the first time, the pressure of his wounded leg on the horse's side hurt less than he had expected; so, having covered half a mile and knowing only too well the necessity for speed, he broke into a canter. Another mile and the leg began to hurt him so he eased the pace, for he dared not risk his wound opening again and cause him to lose his grip, with the risk of being thrown from the saddle.
Luckily, the way was fairly flat, with no steep gradients which would have put a further strain upon him. But by the time he had covered half the distance he was sweating profusely and with each jolt of the horse a sharp stab of pain ran up his leg.
With half-closed eyes and clenching his teeth, he pressed on, trotting and cantering alternately. At last he sighted the Schloss, standing on a rise above a village, but it was still two miles off. Glancing down at his burning leg, he saw that the blue bandage was now stained with crimson. As he had feared, the wound had re-opened and must be bleeding freely. By the time he was clattering on the cobbles through the village street the whole of his lower leg was covered with blood and it was dripping from his boot. But there could be no question of pulling up. Rounding a bend he came opposite the gates of the Schloss. At the sight of his uniform a sentry presented arms. But Roger ignored him. It was all he could now do to keep in the saddle.
Ahead, leading up to the Schloss stood a long avenue of lindens. His sight misted by pain, he saw that several score of troops were gathered in the avenue. They formed two long lines and there were several smaller groups beneath the trees. As, with his last reserve of strength, he galloped up the slope, his vision cleared. The nearest group of soldiers was standing below a body that swung from the branch of a tree. The next group was hauling on a rope to hoist a second victim. Beyond, hatless and with their hands bound behind them, stood seven escapers among other groups. In the queue awaiting death Roger saw Charles.
In front of the two lines of soldiers stood several officers. One, obviously the commander of the garrison, was walking slowly up and down. He came to a halt as Roger approached and stared enquiringly at him. Roger pulled up beside him and slid from his horse. As his wounded leg touched the ground, it gave under him and he caught at the arm the officer extended to him. Next moment, as they stood face to face, they recognised each other. The garrison Commander was a Colonel Grandmaison, with whom Roger had served in Austria.
'Why, 'tis the Comte de Breuc!’ Grandmaison exclaimed. 'How come you here, my dear fellow, and in such a state?'
With one hand Roger drew the Emperor's order from his pocket and thrust it at his friend; with the other he pointed at Charles and gasped, 'That man ... the last but three in a row. The Earl of St. Ermins. This . . . this is a reprieve ... an order that he is to be handed over to me.' Then he fainted.
When he came to, he was inside the Schloss and being carried up a stone staircase on a stretcher. Soon afterwards he was laid on a table. Colonel Grandmaison and several other people were gathered round him, one of whom was an army surgeon. He was given what he realised was an opium drink, then most of his clothes were taken off. Several men held him down while he squirmed and yelled during the agonising process of having his injured calf disinfected and sewn up again. After he had been put to bed in another room he managed to ask Grandmaison if Charl
es could be sent to him.
The Colonel agreed, and five minutes later the soldier who had been left to supply Roger's need of anything let Charles in. His face was still drawn and pale from having recently so narrowly escaped death, but his eyes lit up and he was about to rush forward and pour out his thanks to Roger for having saved his life, when Roger put a finger to his lips enjoining silence.
Having sent the soldier from the room, Roger beckoned Charles to his bedside, made him kneel down and said in a low voice, 'I have told the Emperor and Marshal Davout that you are my nephew; but they, and everyone else in the French Army believe me to be a Frenchman, born in Strasbourg, the son of a Frenchman who married your aunt. In England it is known only to a few statesmen that I am a Count and Colonel in the French Army. Everyone else believes me to be an English eccentric who has spent the greater part of his life travelling in distant lands. Remember these things, Charles, for my life depends on them, and avoid talking about me whenever possible.'
Charles, weeping with gratitude, readily promised; then, having given Roger another opium drink, sat by him until he managed to get off to sleep.
The days that followed were agonising for Roger and very anxious ones for Charles. Twenty-four hours after his arrival at Schloss Bergedorf, Roger's leg. began to swell and the wound go purple at the edges. There could be no doubt that the blue dye in the strips of cloth he had wound round his leg had got into his bloodstream and poisoned it.
He had to submit to the pain of having the gangrenous strips of flesh cut away and the wound being restitched. But that failed to avert the menace. The following day the signs of poisoning appeared again, and the surgeon gave his opinion that the only certain way of saving Roger's life was to amputate his leg below the knee. However, on being pressed by Charles, the sawbones admitted that there was just a chance that further cutting away of the flesh might make amputation unnecessary. Upon this the wretched Roger, his brain a prey to delusions caused by opium and three-parts drunk on brandy, yet still capable of feeling acute pain, submitted for the third time to the surgeon's knife and needle.
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