Duval at Waterloo Page 8

  “Lebrun?”

  “Ah, Lebrun.”

  “Yes?”

  “Again I don’t know much about him, except what I told you before. I doubt you’ll learn much more from asking around. Nobody talks about Lebrun.”

  “Why not?”

  “They’re afraid of him, with good reason.”

  “What reason?”

  “The man’s a bully. He’s an excellent shot and an expert swordsman as well. He’s also got a terrible temper. Most people, officers and men, try to keep out of his way. He’s fought at least eight duels and he’s killed his man three times.”

  “Then there’ll be someone who dislikes him enough to talk.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “His background?”

  “Not sure. He was at sea, I think, or a customs officer. Don’t know why he left. They probably got rid of him. I would. What he’s doing in the army is a mystery, especially in the Maison Militaire. Thought they were more choosy.”

  “Evidently not.”

  “Watch your words if you talk to him.”

  “I shall, don’t worry.”

  Rousseau flicked the list with one finger, then handed it back to me. “There could be others who can shoot but I don’t know them. I’ve never heard of some of these people. I’ll tell you the ones I do know, though, so you can eliminate them. One or two couldn’t hit a barrel at twenty paces.”

  Rousseau was as good as his word and I was able to cross off about five of the names Fournier had selected. I was unhappy to do so, because it is easy enough to feign bad marksmanship. Yet I had little choice. There were still nine left, Rousseau’s three and six others. Time was against me.

  Chapter 7

  We set out at four in the morning for Avesnes, the general headquarters. I was up about two and I began to wonder how long I could keep up this pace. I was no longer the young boy who had rushed so eagerly into battle. The Police did not require such prolonged activity and I had become lazy. I felt out of sorts and grumpy. Lefebvre was worse because he had been drinking with some of the officers, trying unsuccessfully to find out more about them. Nathan looked frankly sick and even a bit frightened. He realised he was rushing headlong to meet armed enemies and he was wondering if he had been mad agreeing to come with us. I decided I would take him to look at our three marksmen and some of the others on Fournier’s list. If he found our man, well and good; if not, I would send him home to his mother in Paris.

  I inspected Napoleon’s carriage, before he got in, and made sure he was screened from snipers. We had even checked his food for poison last night. Napoleon laughed at our diligence but gave the necessary orders, as he had promised.

  “You won’t be able to protect me on the battlefield,” he reminded us.

  “By that time, Sire, I hope that the traitor will be long dead,” I replied, crossing my fingers for luck.

  When the Emperor halted to consult with one of his generals, Lefebvre and I stayed near to him but we were able to discuss our next steps in finding the assassin. Nathan had still not recognised any of the men who had access to the Emperor. We planned to question the three marksmen when we camped for the evening and, if we had time, some of the others as well. I hoped that we would be able to do so and the man would not be able to find a way through our precautions and forestall us. I had the nagging feeling that I was missing something obvious.

  “Are we looking at this the wrong way by concentrating on looking for marksmen? There are plenty of ways to kill a man without shooting him. Could we be making a mistake?”

  “We probably are,” Lefebvre said, bluntly. “But you were a soldier once, how would you commit a murder?”

  “I’d use a soldier’s weapon, a sword or a gun,” I answered. “A bomb is too risky. They often kill everybody except the man they’re intended for, as we both know. Poison seems unnatural to me and you’d need to bribe the cook well. Even so you’d lay yourself open to blackmail or treachery.”

  Lefebvre laughed. “Poison might improve the swill Napoleon’s cook serves. The Emperor isn’t a fussy eater, thank God, but he must have a cast iron stomach or he’d be dead already.”

  “I’d kill him with a sword, if I was prepared to take the consequences,” I ignored his comment and continued speculating. “Drawing a sword anywhere near the Emperor would guarantee you would never leave the room alive.”

  “The assassin might not care about escaping, have you thought of that? What do you think would happen to him if he was caught?”

  “Summary justice and a quiet grave, but we’ve both known fanatics who were willing to lay down their lives to murder the Emperor.” I grinned, remembering the first case I had ever worked on with Lefebvre. The Infernal Machine had been the work of fanatics too, bumbling ones, who had missed their mark but killed a lot of innocent souls instead.

  “True.” Lefebvre shuddered. He’d had a brush with one such man not so long ago, but that is yet another story. “A gun rather than a sword then?”

  “He might use a dagger. They’re easy enough to conceal but, if he wants to escape, only effective when the Emperor is alone. Fortunately, the only time I know no one is with him is when he’s sleeping. I’ll make that point to him and tell the guard to be extra vigilant not to allow anybody to approach the Emperor without searching him thoroughly. My guess is a gun and a man who is able to use it skilfully,” I told him. “Not many guns shoot straight and few men can fire them with enough accuracy to be sure of killing their victim. Yet that’s the best way to kill the Emperor and get away. No wonder the man wanted a well-made rifle if that was his plan. I’d certainly do it like that, although I’m not that good a shot, so I’d have to be close to him to try.”

  We did not have time for more because the General got out of the carriage and rode away. The cavalcade started again and continued until we reached Avesnes. The Emperor was quickly closeted with his senior staff and dismissed us. We were seeing to our own needs when the word came that the Emperor would remain at headquarters for the night and leave late the following morning. This gave us more some hours to work with and we intended to use them to full advantage.

  Before we set out to find the officers with Nathan, Lefebvre took me to one side and said,

  “I’ll take the boy with me, Alain.” I stared at him but did not argue. Lefebvre has better ways of finding things out than I do He’s able to get on with anyone and he’s never let me down. This time proved no exception. He came to me later that night with the information.

  “I’ve sent Nathan to bed. He’s not cut out for this sort of thing. He’s almost dead on his feet.”

  “Any luck?”

  “I can cross three off your list.”

  “Only three?”

  “Yes, including one of the marksmen, Morel. He says it’s not any of them.”

  “He’s sure?”

  “He had a good look at them and he said he did not recognise anyone.”

  “Pity. What about the others?”

  “Rolland was off somewhere on duty and we couldn’t find Lebrun or anyone else we are interested in.”

  “Well, at least that’s some progress.”

  “What about you?” Lefebvre asked.

  “I couldn’t be too inquisitive or I’d have roused suspicions, so most of what I’ve got is second-hand and not particularly trustworthy. I fell in with a group of messengers hanging around waiting for orders. They were bored and a small amount of brandy worked wonders on their tongues, but they didn’t have much to tell me.”

  I shrugged. “I asked about our marksmen and found out that, as you might imagine, Lebrun wasn’t popular and they kept out of his way. Rolland was different. He’s efficient and approachable on duty although a bit solitary at other times. No one claimed any close relationship with him and the consensus was that he didn’t have many friends. ‘An uncomfortable man’ someone called him.”

  “Anything else?”

  “They reacted badly to any suggestion of disloyalty among
the Maison. I didn’t phrase it like that, of course, or they’d have jumped on me. Our three marksmen are supposedly loyal or they wouldn’t be here Not everyone chose to cast their lot with the Emperor when he returned from Elba and several of the old faces are missing. There were a lot of vacancies in the Maison which had to be filled quickly before this campaign, of which Morel was one, but you’ve already eliminated him.”

  “Nothing we didn’t know then?”

  “A couple of things.” I pointed to the list. “Raponde is a poor shot. He lost a wager with one of the group a week or so back.”

  “He could have lost it deliberately.”

  “The stake was large enough to hurt. I think he can be crossed off. That brings our names down to seven.”

  “You said two things. What’s the other?”

  “I kept the best for last. The only thing of real value I found out. This man…” I stabbed at the list “…he’s an orderly officer, said something about the Emperor which didn’t go down too well. He made it out to be a joke but some of them did not believe him. The sword is his weapon but he can shoot as well, so no one challenged him, although they didn’t like his words.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Quarnet.”

  “I’ll roust Nathan out of bed early and walk him past these people if I can find them.”

  “What are you going to do next?”

  “Have a chat with Lebrun or Rolland, both of them if I am lucky and have time.”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘lucky’. What happens if Lebrun finds out what you’re about and challenges you?”

  “I won’t accept his challenge. I’ll run away as fast as I can!”

  Chapter 8

  Because of the late start, we had some hours free on the morning of the fourteenth of June. Lefebvre and Nathan set off to look at the people on our list, while I went in search of either of our two marksmen. Time was getting alarmingly short; we should cross the frontier tomorrow. We’d been lucky so far and the assassin must be getting desperate by now, if his intention really was to prevent the Emperor joining the army. Perhaps our watchfulness had been sufficient, or something else prevented an attack. I hoped our luck would continue.

  I went to Lebrun’s tent and, for a wonder, I found him there, packing up for departure.

  “Good morning,” I greeted him.

  “What do you want?” he replied. Charming manners, I thought.

  “A little of your time.”

  “I’m getting ready to go on duty. Go talk to someone else.”

  “It won’t take long and I brought a drink to chase away the fug of the night air. Will you join me?”

  I flourished two bottles under his nose. I’d already found out that the man preferred wine from the Langudoc area. Not a taste I share myself. I bought a couple of bottles from one of the sutlers who followed the troops and hoped they might tempt him to talk to me.

  They did. He laughed suddenly. “Ho! Who told you I liked sand wine?”

  “A sutler. Says you buy from him often.”

  “Well he was right, I do. I’ll crack one bottle with you, stranger, but when it’s finished, bugger off and let me get on with what I have to do.”

  “I will.”

  I can’t say I learned much from our meeting, although it enlightened me in some ways. At first I proceeded carefully, saying that the Emperor wanted me to make notes of the campaign for future publication. I thought it would be interesting to talk to the staff. I asked him about the journey and the coming battles as compared with others he had undertaken. He did not tell me anything of real interest, merely indicating that he thought the battles would be hard but that we would win. By happy chance we then found a mutual interest, fencing. Lebrun proved to be an advocate of the French school, with little time for the Italian, which he considered sissy. I changed the subject before our difference of opinion developed into an argument and forced me to defend my point of view physically. It surprised me that Lebrun was reputed to have few friends. We got on well enough, but then we’d only shared a single bottle, it was morning and we had an interest in common. Our talk turned to shooting and I bragged a little about hunting, to draw him out. He did not let it pass. I found out he had a passion for guns and owned two rifles and a pair of pistols that shot straight. He showed them to me and indeed they made me envious. I said so and told him that I did not own anything half so well balanced. He said that he had bought the guns at various times over the years and they had never let him down. At this moment his sergeant came to find him and we parted.

  I was glad to have got the encounter over before his mood deteriorated. I found him good company, although I sensed the menace which did not lie far beneath his skin. One thing I was sure of — Lebrun possessed four very fine weapons, any one of which could kill the Emperor in the hands of an expert. I was walking away when his words hit me. Lebrun had owned his guns for years. Why would he need to risk buying yet another well-made rifle? He had effectively removed himself from suspicion.

  I returned to the Emperor’s quarters in time to watch the bustle of preparation which heralded his departure. Lefebvre and Nathan were waiting for me.

  “Any luck?” he greeted me and I told him what I had found out. I took some satisfaction in scribbling out Lebrun’s name from our list.

  “There are two things to do next. First we get Nathan to take a last look at the others on the list, then he can go home. Second we set someone to watch all the ones who are left. The watchers should be prepared to shoot if anyone makes a wrong move.”

  “Who do you want to do that?”

  “It’s a job for Rousseau’s men. I’m going to find him now.”

  “Stop a minute. Let me tell you what we found out.”

  “I’ve seen three more of the men on your paper,” Nathan said. “None of them are the man I remember.”

  “So that brings us down to how many?” I asked Lefebvre who had put the list back in his pocket.

  “Our two marksmen, Rolland and Quarnet, plus another man called Torchier who has only recently joined the Maison and is not well known.”

  “We may have missed somebody.”

  “We may but whoever he is, he must act quickly now. Asking your friend Rousseau to set a guard on all three, if nothing else, might make the assassin think twice about risking a shot.”

  “I agree,” I said and went off to find him.

  Rousseau detailed three of his men to follow our suspects.

  “Don’t let yourselves be seen, if possible,” I warned them. “We know this man is a killer, we just don’t know who he is. The man you follow may be entirely innocent but he might not. If you see anything suspicious, try to arrest the suspect. If you have to, shoot him. The Emperor won’t blame you for trying to keep him safe. Do you understand?”

  They nodded and I rode back to join Lefebvre in a lighter frame of mind. It did not last long. I was riding up the line, passing some of the wagons in the convoy when I heard the sound of a shot ahead of me. A wagon staggered out of the line and came to an abrupt halt. I joined several troopers who came over to see what had happened. Two of them made for the trees which lined the road.

  “A sniper,” one of the troopers said. “But why shoot at a wagon when there are many better targets all round us?”

  I did not reply but I knew the answer. Sprawled across the chest of the wagon driver lay the body of Nathan David, shot neatly through the head.

  The troopers who had ridden into the woods soon came back with little to report.

  “What did you find?” I asked.

  “Whoever he was got clean away,” one of them told me. “Didn’t think the cursed English were so close to us.”

  “An Englishman you say? Why do you think that?”

  “Who else would it be – either an Englishman or a Prussian, they’re both cowardly races, killing by stealth rather than face to face.”

  “Did you see the man at all?” Lefebvre asked.

  “No, only a shado
w riding away among the trees. We followed but we couldn’t find him.”

  “So you don’t know what uniform he wore?”

  “No. I can tell you he was about medium height, wearing a cloak but no hat.”

  I nodded and turned away.

  “No wonder they lost him,” Lefebvre said. “A Frenchman would double back and mingle with the column. No one would notice.”

  “And who but a Frenchman would have any interest in killing Nathan David?” I muttered. “The one man who could expose him for a traitor.”

  “What do we do now?” Lefebvre asked crossing himself as he stared at the dead man. “He can’t tell us anything further.”

  “I wonder…”

  “What?”

  “I wonder which of our suspects went missing at the time he was shot.”

  “Yes, they’d have to be missing wouldn’t they? If they’d taken the shot in plain sight they’d have been shot themselves or arrested.”

  “I’ll go and see what Rousseau’s men have to say after we’ve finished here. You stay with the Emperor. The assassin must be getting desperate to take such a risk.”

  We wrapped Nathan’s body, put him in the back of the wagon and continued on to Beaumont, where we stopped for the night. As soon as the Emperor was safely under cover, Lefebvre and I buried Nathan in a corner of the local churchyard. We did not tell the priest his religion, so he did not object to him lying in consecrated ground. Rousseau found a fellow Jew for us and, when the priest left, this man muttered words which we did not understand. Lefebvre pulled out his knife and carved ‘ND 1815’ on the bark of a tree that shaded the grave.

  “The best I can do for now,” he said, “but how am I going to tell Sarah that her boy is gone?” In the end, he did not have to undertake such a painful task, I did.

  At least Nathan died cleanly of a single wound, rather than lingering on in agony for days. I reflected on this and the fact that whoever killed him was, indeed, a wonderful shot. The marksman picked out his target and hit it from a distance which would defy many others. If he was able to kill Nathan, he could certainly kill the Emperor and I wondered why he had not done so. I went to see the captain of the guard and recommended that he increase his precautions, which he agreed to do. Then Lefebvre and I requested Napoleon to see us.