The Irish Witch rb-11

by Dennis Wheatley

  The meal proved a by no means cheerful one. Those officers present were very conscious that, as in other pockets of territory on the right bank of the Rhine still held by the French, their enemies were rapidly closing in on them, and the prospect of being reinforced seemed extremely dubious. Moreover, the state of things in the city of Coblenz had become very different from what it had been when they had lorded it there. The German population had become openly hostile. The troops no longer dared go to the beerhalles in parties of fewer than a dozen, they were hissed at in the streets and had to walk warily to avoid the contents of a chamber pot thrown from an upper window on to their heads.

  That evening Roger told the General that he naturally wished to rejoin the Emperor as soon as possible, and asked his assistance to get to Paris. The General willingly agreed, said that he still had the power to commandeer a coach and promised to provide a driver. By mid-morn­ing next day a coach had been procured. As the driver was a soldier, an escort was provided to accompany the coach into the town, so that Roger and Charles could buy razors, soap, flannels, a change of underclothes, some bottles of wine and other things for their journey. They then crossed the river by the bridge of boats. On the far side the escort left them, and for the five days that fol­lowed they were able to enjoy relaxing in freedom until they reached Paris on December 23rd.

  Roger directed the driver to Talleyrand's mansion. On alighting there they were informed that the statesman was dining out, but the maitre d'hotel, who knew Roger well, said he felt sure it would be His Highness's wish that they should partake of a meal while awaiting his return. Soon after eight o'clock Talleyrand came in, to find them still lingering over peaches and Chateau Yquem. As he limped into the room they both stood up. With a smile and a wave of his hand toward Charles, Roger said :

  'Your Highness, permit me to present my friend, Count von Schweibacker-Erman.'

  Returning the smile, Talleyrand replied, 'So you suc­ceeded in your quest.' Then he extended his beruffled hand to Charles and said, 'I am delighted to welcome Lord St. Ermins to my house, and I hope that you will both remain here as my guests during your stay in Paris.'

  They laughed and gratefully accepted. Some fine old brandy was produced and they sat round the table. Roger gave an account of all that had befallen him since he had left Paris toward the end of August, then Talleyrand gave them a resume of the war situation.

  Prince Metternich, anxious to keep France strong as a counterweight to Russia, had in mid-November offered peace on the terms that France must give up all that re­mained of her conquests in Spain, Italy and Germany and return to her natural frontiers: the Rhine, the Alps and the Pyrenees. But Napoleon, then at Frankfurt, had shillied and shallied until the offer had been withdrawn. This had caused him, quite unjustly, to dismiss Maret, Duc de Bassano, who had long been his Foreign Minister, and replace him with Gaulaincourt.

  His efforts to re-open negotiations had been thwarted by the Prussians. Determined to exact full vengeance from the French, they now proclaimed both banks of the Rhine to be German territory, and claimed Cologne, Treir, Strasbourg and Metz. The Czar, moreover, was set on dictating a peace in Paris. Ignoring a declaration of neutrality by Switzerland, an Allied army was marching through that country, and now menaced France from the east. Von Bulow's Prussians, with the aid of a British expeditionary force, had driven the French out of Hol­land, to the great rejoicing of the Dutch, and in the south Wellington had crossed the Pyrenees.

  At the end of this recital Roger said, 'Then it can now be only a matter of weeks before the Emperor is forced to give in.'

  Talleyrand shook his head. 'I'd not gamble on that. The man is as stubborn as a mule. Nothing will induce him to give up the left bank of the Rhine, Belgium or his Italian conquests. I fear there is yet much bloody fighting to come.'

  'But, my Prince, what has he left to fight with? After the debacle in Russia, he managed by a miracle to muster another half-million men and he has since lost those in Germany. One cannot make bricks without straw, and there is no straw left.'

  'You are wrong there, but it is a different kind of straw. When he returned to Paris, he was openly cursed as the destroyer of France's young manhood. For years the people have become more and more sickened by his foreign wars. But now they have changed their tune. The Allies are about to invade France—to tread the sacred soil won by the people's army, led by Moreau, Jourdan and Kellermann in the days of the Revolution. Men long since released from the Army, many even who were middle-aged in those days but can still march and fire a musket, are volunteering in their thousands to fight again.'

  Roger sighed. 'How terrible that there must be yet another bloodbath.'

  They talked on for another hour or so, then Talleyrand excused himself on account of having papers to go through, and had his guests shown up to bedrooms.

  When Roger had left La Belle Etoile he had had his big trunk brought round to Talleyrand's mansion, and he recalled that he had an old uniform in it. It was one he had worn at the battle of the Nile, and had a big tear through the upper part of the left arm, made by a bullet that had narrowly missed him. Although the tear had been mended, he had been in half a mind to throw the garment away, but the providence he had inherited from his Scot­tish mother had led to his keeping it in case one day it came in useful. Now was just such a time, as going to the Ministry of War in uniform rather than in civilian clothes would save him from having to answer a lot of tiresome questions. Next morning, after the footman who was valeting him had given the coat a good brushing, he put it on and took a coach to the Ministry.

  After the retreat from Moscow he had been listed as 'missing, believed killed', but while in Paris the previous August he had had his name restored to the pay roll and now had considerable arrears owing to him. Not expecting to be in Paris again until after a peace had been agreed, he drew the whole sum, partly in gold for current pur­poses, but the bulk in bills of exchange.

  Having learned that the Emperor was not in the capital but making a tour of the principal provincial cities to encourage, by showing himself, more ex-soldiers to rejoin the colours, Roger was in no danger of again being caught up in his web, so he decided that as Charles had never before been in Paris, he would remain there for a few days, to show the young man something of the city.

  During the past twenty-five years Roger had lived there for so many months that Charles could not have had a better guide; and, now that he and Roger had become boon companions, he immensely enjoyed going with him to the Louvre, to Notre Dame, the Sainte Chapel, the site where the guillotine had stood, and driving out to St. Cloud and Versailles.

  It was on the evening of December 30th that Roger told Talleyrand that, greatly as they had enjoyed their stay, he and Charles must now make their way home, and that he proposed to set out on the following day.

  The Prince expressed great surprise at this and ex­claimed, 'Mais non! Cher ami, how can you even think of leaving Paris now? For many years happenings in France have been the great interest in your life. You wit­nessed the rise of Bonaparte; surely you do not mean to forgo being present at the tyrant's fall ?'

  Roger smiled. 'It will be a great day, Highness, and I'll regret to miss it. Indeed, I'd happily stay on here could it be anticipated in the course of the next few weeks. But that is more than we can hope for. It is your own opinion, and endorsed by many of the prominent men I have talked with while a guest here at your lavish table, that the new army, containing so many tough old soldiers, will put up a most desperate resistance when the Allies invade France. Unless the Emperor agrees to accept humiliating terms—which we both consider unlikely—it will be many months before he can be crushed by sheer weight of num­bers.'

  'That I admit. But even so you should remain. You are unique in being known and trusted by many men of importance in both camps; so, as a go-between for my­self, you could be of immense help in bringing about a cessation of hostilities.'

  'No, Highness. In such a way I could be of l
ittle use to you. When the Emperor returns to Paris, it is certain he will learn that I am here, so I could not avoid report­ing to him. In this past year he has lost so many of his old intimates who knew his ways, that he will instantly seize upon me and require me to accompany him to the front. I've had more than my share of luck in having lived through so many dangers, and I'm determined not to risk death now in further battles.'

  'You would have no need to do so. I am happy to know that you are now nearly recovered from your wound, and that it has left you with nothing worse than a limp. But Napoleon is not aware of that. An A.D.C. who cannot ride a horse is of little use in the field. You could easily excuse yourself from further service by pretending to be severely crippled, and your health seriously affected; then remain on here in Paris with me.'

  Again Roger shook his head. 'The excuse you suggest might be accepted, but I'll not risk it. I could be useful to him in so many ways that the odds are he would insist on forcing me into some employment. Besides, I am anxious to get Charles home and so put an end to his dear mother's anxiety about his still being alive.'

  The Prince shrugged. 'I'll say no more then. How do you propose to get back to England?'

  ‘I hope, as I have done many times before, to find some smuggler along the coast who will run us over.'

  'You'll not find that so easy as you did in the past. Now that the Allies are closing in about us it is feared that the English might attempt to land an army in Normandy or Brittany, so the coast is much more carefully guarded’

  'Sir,' Charles addressed Roger. 'I did not put on a uni­form merely to strut about in it, but to play my part on active service. It was my intention when we reached England to sail again as soon as possible, in order to rejoin His Grace of Wellington's army. There is an alternative, though. Why should we not travel south direct to it ? That would save me the voyage from England to Spain, and you would have no need to risk yourself with a smuggler. You could go home in safety and comfort in one of our ships sailing from a Spanish port.'

  Roger considered for only a moment, then he smiled. 'Charles, you have something there. It is an excellent idea.'

  So the matter was settled. Two days later, on New Year's Day 1814, they left Paris in a comfortable travel­ling coach, generously provided by Talleyrand who, when they took leave of him, handed Roger a letter which he asked him to deliver to Wellington.

  They made the journey through France without inci­dent, and on January 11th reached Bayonne, which was now actually in the battle zone. There they put up at a modest hostelry and next morning, having given Talley­rand's coachman a handsome pourboire, Roger sent him back to Paris with the coach. He then bought two good horses and, with their portmanteaux strapped to the backs of their saddles, they took the road east to Bidache.

  From time to time Roger had heard news of the war in the south and, as he had expected, Marshal Soult had proved a much more redoubtable opponent than had King Joseph and Jourdan. During the late summer Wellington had driven the French back across the Pyrenees with a loss of ten thousand men, but his advance had then been badly held up by the fortresses of San Sebastian and Pamplona. It was not until the end of the first week in October that he had been able to plant the British flag on French soil, and he had then had to force the line of the river Bidassoa, which Soult had fortified with a chain of strong re­doubts.

  From there the French had fallen back on a still stronger line along the river Nivelle. It ran through very rugged country which greatly favoured the defence, and during the whole of November the weather had been appalling, which further hampered offensive operations; so it was not until the 10th that, after many desperate assaults, the enemy had been driven from it. Soult had then retired to the river Nive at the mouth of which lay die great fortress of Bayonne. This had placed Welling­ton at a strategic disadvantage because, further inland, his army was divided by the river into two parts. The able Soult had first concentrated his army on the west bank, hoping to defeat that half of the British force. Failing in that, he had transferred his troops to the east bank and endeavoured to overwhelm the one British and one Portu­guese division there under the command of Sir Rowland Hill; but again he had been defeated. By December 13th the whole of Soult's army had been driven back and taken refuge among the ring of forts surrounding Bayonne.

  On the evening of their arrival in the city and during the night, Roger and Charles frequently heard the sound of cannon as the British bombarded the forts to the south of Bayonne and the forts returning the fire. It was not until they had ridden several miles along the road inland that the sounds of battle faded in the distance. At an easy pace they covered the twenty miles to Bidache and Roger was

  greatly relieved to find that now, ten weeks after the last operation on his leg, riding did not pain or unduly tire him.

  They had a meal at an inn in Bidache, and rested for a couple of hours. The little town lay on the fringe of the foothills of the Pyrenees, and that afternoon they took the road south toward the mountains. By making a big detour they had skirted right round the area in which there was fighting, so had seen only a few French troops escorting wagons. Evening found them in deserted, wooded coun­try, some miles south of St. Palais. Noticing a small cave in a ridge of rocks a hundred yards or so off the track, they decided that it would be a good place to pass the night.

  They had not yet reached the snowline, but it was bit­terly cold, so they got a fire going as quickly as they could. On it they cooked some slices of ham they had bought in Bidache; then, having warmed themselves up with a bottle of Bordeaux and lavish rations of Armagnac, they wrapped themselves in their cloaks and did their best to get some sleep on shallow piles of fir sprigs that they had broken off from the branches they had collected for their fire.

  In the morning, believing that they were now well out­side French-held territory, Roger took off his old uniform coat, threw it away in the far end of the cave, and put on the grey cloth coat in which he had travelled from Germany. After watering their horses at a stream and giving them a feed, they ate some more of the ham, washed it down with another bottle of wine and resumed their journey.

  Soon after leaving the cave they came upon cross-roads, so they turned west in the direction of the coast. The morning passed in a tiring ride up over spurs and down across valleys, but early in the afternoon they saw ahead of them a group of tents and some red coats in a clearing by the trackside. A Lieutenant was in command of this outpost, and when they made it known that they were English he gave them a cheerful welcome.

  By the time they had warmed themselves at a fire and eaten a hot meal, the early winter dusk was already clos­ing in, so they decided to remain there for the night. In the morning die Lieutenant showed them on his map the direction they should take to reach Wellington's head­quarters. It meant a ride of another twenty-five miles, but knowing they had succeeded in getting safely through the dangerous area, they took the road in good heart.

  After passing several other units of British troops they reached the headquarters soon after midday. It was a chateau with a beautiful view over the ridges of woodland to the north. Dismounting outside it, Roger sent in his name and that of Charles. Ten minutes later the Com­mander-in-Chief received them with his usual charm.

  However, he told them that he was just about to hold a conference of his senior officers, so must wait until later to hear such news as they had brought him. He then said they must join him for dinner and turned them over to one of his A.D.C.s with orders to provide them with accommodation. Having thanked him Roger, before leav­ing the room, handed him the letter he had brought from Talleyrand.

  Dinner that night proved a cheerful meal. Such brother officers as Charles knew on the Duke's staff heartily wel­comed him back among them. It emerged in conversation that they were confident of soon taking Bayonne and advancing on Bordeaux, where it was now known that a great part of the population was secretly eager to welcome the Allies. Intelligence had also been received that recently
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  Napoleon had ordered Soult to send ten thousand men to assist in defending the eastern frontier of France. The Spanish troops had inflicted such atrocities on the French in the towns and villages they had captured that the Duke, who was anxious to gain the good will of the French people, had sent the Spaniards back to their own coun­try. But even without them, Wellington now had such superiority in numbers that Soult's final defeat could not be long delayed.

  When the port circulated there was an eager audience to hear Charles's account of all that had befallen himself and Roger in Germany. The two of them then enjoyed a sound night's sleep in comfortable beds.

  In the morning the Duke sent for Roger and said to him, 'Mr. Brook, are you aware of the contents of the letter you brought me from Talleyrand?'

  'No, Your Grace,' Roger replied. 'He told me nothing of it.'

  ‘I see. Well, to be brief, it is a most earnest appeal to me to use any influence I may have with you to persuade you to return to Paris.'

  Roger shook his head. 'Your Grace must forgive me, but I am utterly sickened of war, and determined to go home to England.'

  'One moment,' the Duke held up a finger. 'Talleyrand points out, and I know this to be true, that you are the only man in all Europe who has special qualifications for possibly hastening the end of hostilities. You are in his confidence and mine. You have long been an A.D.C. to Napoleon, who believes you to be devoted to him. You are known and trusted by the Czar. You know Prince Metternich, Lord Castlereagh and scores of influential persons in our camp and that of the enemy.

  'You have served your country so long and so well that you are trapped by the circumstances you have yourself created. How can you possibly now refuse to serve her for a few more months? You are not a soldier, so I am in no position to order you to return, neither am I accustomed to beg; but on this occasion I beg you to do so.'