Duval at Waterloo Read online

  He did so fleetingly, clearly begrudging the time he spent with us.

  “Sire, our witness to the murder of the informer has been shot by a sniper. It was a fine shot and he was the only one killed, when there were many other targets in the area,” I said. “The captain of the guard will increase the number of troops surrounding you, but I beg you, Sire, to be even more cautious about exposing yourself.”

  Napoleon nodded. “I understand your concern but this plot has almost failed. We will be in the Low Countries tomorrow and I will join my army. Fouché reported that the assassin’s intention was to kill me before this happened. So you have only one more night and a day to keep me protected.”

  “That may be all he needs, Sire.”

  Napoleon smiled a grim smile. “And his timetable might be flexible, I know. Enough. I understand your concerns and I will act with as much caution as possible. But I am a soldier, about to go into battle where no soldier is ever safe. A stray shot may kill me as surely as an excellent one and rob your traitor of his glory. You have done well so far; continue for another twenty four hours and your job will be done.” Then he dismissed us and we went away unhappily. I had the uneasiness you get before the thunder starts and the air begins to tingle. It was not just the prospect of the battles to come. I remembered that feeling well and this was not the same. Something momentous was about to happen.

  Neither of us was reassured by the Emperor’s manner. Rousseau came to see us late in the evening. He had not heard about Nathan’s death because he’d been in another part of the line. So I told him about the incident and its significance.

  “Did any of your troops report the man he was following being out of their sight at the right moment?” I asked. “The assassin needed time to slip away from the column, find a place to shoot from, take the shot and leave. Then he’d circle round to make it seem as if he came from the opposite direction probably.”

  “Two them,” Rousseau said grimly. “One went to relieve himself and couldn’t find his quarry when he returned. I’ve spoken to him and he won’t do that again in a hurry. The second said his man simply vanished before his eyes like a spectre. I’ve had a word with him as well.”

  “So who was the man who did not disappear?” Lefebvre asked.

  “Capitaine Torchier. My man kept him in his sight for the whole of the journey.”

  “So our two marksmen, Quarnet and Rolland-Couteau are still in the picture.”

  “Can you assign an additional man to Quarnet and Rolland-Couteau?” I asked Rousseau. “So that they each have two people following them.”

  “Already done,” he replied. “I thought of that. I’ve assigned four of my best men to follow them. They won’t slip away again.”

  He left us and the night passed quietly enough, although neither Lefebvre nor I slept very well. A few alarms occurred on the outskirts of the camp, due to the restlessness of men living in close proximity and nothing more sinister.

  The Emperor rose very early next morning. There was a small balcony on the front of his lodging and he walked there, chatting with King Jérôme. He did not seem to have a care in the world but I was in a fever of apprehension.

  “Look at him!” I cried to Lefebvre. “If he’s being cautious now, then I don’t want to see him being reckless.”

  “Nor me.”

  “Go up and persuade him to come inside.”

  “I’ll try. What are you going to do?”

  “See if I can spot anyone taking aim at him.”

  Lefebvre hurried away and I borrowed a spy-glass to scan the surrounding area, especially the rooftops. It was a forlorn hope at best. If I saw the assassin, what could I do? Unless he was close to me, he had only to shoot and I would never catch him. I could feel icy sweat running down my back at the very thought. Fortunately, I saw no one. Presently, the Emperor turned around and spoke to someone in the room behind him. Then he and Jérôme left the balcony. I saw Lefebvre at the window. He waved to me.

  Napoleon did not pay for his foolishness. The killer missed his chance and did not strike. Why he did not, I never found out. Shortly afterwards we left Beaumont for Charleroi. We crossed the Sambre, and marched into the town. The enemy were camped on a hill nearby and had to be driven back. By afternoon, the area was cleared. The Emperor climbed the hill and ordered the army to march past him in column. Another wonderful opportunity that the assassin failed to profit by, perhaps because we had as many men as Napoleon would allow surrounding him.

  In the evening the Emperor insisted on touring the outposts before he retired to a house in the Place de Promenade in the centre of Charleroi. We went with him on his tour and so did his guards. We all kept peering through the darkness and the flickering flames of the torches and fires. Our hands were on our weapons and our senses alert, but no one challenged us and no bullet came out of the night.

  “Napoleon bears a charmed life,” Lefebvre muttered to me as he retired to his lodgings.

  “Thank God our task is nearly over,” I replied.

  “If we’re lucky. I wonder why the assassin didn’t try today. He won’t have many better chances.”

  “Who knows? Perhaps Rousseau’s men inhibited him,” I said but in my heart I did not believe it.

  The Emperor did not get much sleep. During the night various officers of the staff kept coming and going, bringing him accounts of the movements made by the different enemy corps. Lefebvre and I took turns watching over him along with his guards. I kept a loaded pistol in my pocket. I started to draw it when Rolland-Couteau came into the room. He bowed to the Emperor and handed him a message. Rolland-Couteau must have caught my sudden movement because he cast me a quizzical glance while the Emperor was reading his missive. By that time I had my shaky nerves under control. The pistol was again hidden inside my coat, although it was now cocked and my finger was on the trigger. I nodded to him as the Emperor said, “No answer.” He bowed and left. I sank down into my seat with a sigh of relief, uncocking the pistol with a careful hand. I had been foolish. Rolland-Couteau certainly would never have left the room alive if he harmed Napoleon. The guard would have torn the man apart. Nevertheless, I felt sick and a little shaky for several hours afterwards.

  Scouts arrived and the Prussians were reported to be at Namur. Marshal Ney had found the English and Dutch near the crossroads of Quatre Bras and expected to give battle in the morning. Another report made the Emperor go storming around the room. It seemed that General Bourmont had defected to the enemy.

  “He knows our position and my plans!” Napoleon fumed. “I will have to change all our depositions!”

  As a result of this, messengers came and went in increased numbers and the scribes nearly worked their fingers to the bone. Among the men summoned was Quarnet. I had a chance to examine him, while he was waiting for a reply to the message he had brought. He was a thin dark man who looked as if a breath of wind would knock him over. Could he be the assassin who had killed Nathan and his father? To look at him, I doubted it. Then I remembered other men who appeared slight but had been capable of evil deeds. The way a man looks, I reminded myself, was no clue to his mind. I kept Quarnet covered by my pistol for safety, of course, but he, too, made no move and left quietly with his letter.

  At last the Emperor retired, saying he would make a late start in the direction of Fleurus. This would give time for his messages to be delivered and acted upon. It was the middle of the night when he went to bed and nearly ten in the morning before we clattered out of Charleroi. By now our forward ranks were in touch with strong columns of the enemy but we did not yet have sufficient troops to offer battle, or so Rousseau reported.

  “Though it may only be scuttlebutt,” he warned us.

  “What do you think?” I asked the veteran soldier.

  “I think there will be a battle before the evening,” he replied.

  Rumour seemed to be correct. When we reached Fleurus, the Emperor took over the windmill of Naveau, which stood on a hill outside the town.
It gave him a good view over the rolling countryside, where the opening engagement would be fought. It was possible to see the enemy now, grouped on the plain before us. But we made no move and I wondered what the Emperor was waiting for. “Reinforcements,” one of the officers told me when I asked.

  I was pleased at the thought that the plot against the Emperor had failed. Napoleon was in command of the army and about to give battle. From now on, his safety would be in the hands of his soldiers, but Lefebvre and I had not yet been dismissed. We had not seen Napoleon since he arrived at the windmill. He spent the time conferring with his officers inside the building, which was too small for all of us to be in the same area. The ADCs, messengers and equerries were sent on various errands, the two suspects among them. Neither of them had done anything unusual so far. I felt sure the assassin was Quarnet, for no better reason than the way he looked. Lefebvre had begun to favour Rolland-Couteau, who he had found out had few resources and lived on his pay.

  “Such men will do much for money,” Lefebvre said when we discussed it.

  “What about the jewel?” I asked him. “That’s worth a fortune.”

  “Not if it’s locked in Moses David’s safe,” he retorted, which was true.

  We never resolved the argument. Lefebvre went to check the area surrounding the mill and reported, “It’s not good, mon brave. There’s some thick woodland, where a sniper might hide.”

  “Can we cut it back?”

  “No time. Look at the sun. It’s half way through the afternoon. If there’s going to be a battle today, the barrage will start soon.”

  “Have the reinforcements arrived?”

  “So they say. Certainly there are more troops here than there were earlier in the day.”

  I felt my skin crawl as it always used to do before a fight. I started to sweat.

  “Take over will you? I need some fresh air.”

  I went out to see the troop positions for myself. I also wanted to find Rousseau, so I walked in the direction of the Imperial Guards. The light was strong but starting to throw shadows, for it was a couple of hours past midday. Some birds sang among the trees.

  When I looked down from the edge of the hill, I agreed with Lefebvre it could not be long now. I started to run. Once the battle started, everyone would be on the move and a single man would be impossible to find. I was about half way from the windmill to the ranks of the guards when I saw Rousseau hurrying to meet me. He was sweating and had obviously been running, despite his high boots and the blow to his dignity.

  “What is it?” I cried when I came near enough. “What’s happened?”

  He skidded to a stop. “Three of the men I set to watch the suspects have been found dead.”

  “Who were they following?” I asked quickly. “Three you said? Then they must have been after both suspects.”

  “They were.”

  “Is the other one alive?” For a few moments I wondered if there was a conspiracy, with both of them involved but Rousseau shook his head.

  “Yes. It was the first thing I checked. You realise what this means?”

  “The man or men are about to make their move!” The soldiers had to be removed so the assassin could act freely. The assassin must have been aware of being followed and acted before the soldiers could escape.

  I spun on my heel and began to race back the way I had come. Rousseau panted after me but polished boots are not intended for running and I actually made better speed, game leg and all. I arrived as Lefebvre and some of the guards came out of the mill, peering round, with the Emperor close behind them. Napoleon walked forward to the edge of the brow and studied the terrain with his telescope. He saw me as he turned and beckoned me to him. We stood before him and I struggled to catch my breath. I had to tell him what had happened but my chest heaved and my tongue was like lead. For those few vital instants, I could not speak. Concentrating on him, I was unaware of my surroundings. His words seemed as if they were spoken in another place and time. My vision darkened and mist seemed to cling to the edges of my sight.

  “The assassin has failed, Duval, and the battle is about to begin,” he said. “You and Lefebvre may leave me now, with my thanks.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth, when something fluttered on the edge of my blurred vision and perhaps that impairment made me see it. Instinctively, I did a thing I would never have normally done – I shoved the Emperor hard. He staggered aside, just as a bullet whistled between us, passing the place where his head would have been. A soldier on the other side of the group put his hand to his arm and slowly sank to his knees. I saw this even as I yelled,

  “After him!” I plunged into the trees, Lefebvre and several guards on my heels. I glimpsed Rousseau coming onto the top of the hill, taking in what was happening and turning to cut off the running man.

  Someone crashed through the bushes ahead of us. One of the soldiers stopped behind us and shot at him.

  “Don’t fire! I want him alive,” I screamed. At that moment my blood was up and a death by bullet seemed too clean.

  The assassin ran fast but Lefebvre has always been an excellent runner, far better than me, even before I was injured. He sprinted forward and I heard the thud of falling bodies. More crashes and then a sudden scream, whose I did not know. I came up to find them struggling, Lefebvre on top, pinning his man to the ground. The assassin heaved upwards and twisted round as he tried to break free. He punched Lefebvre who gasped. A blow from a rifle butt made him drop onto his back and ended his resistance. The white, strained face of Rolland-Couteau, the man I had so carelessly dismissed, stared back at me, hatred in his eyes. He was nursing his wrist and I suddenly realised it was his scream I had heard before. Lefebvre never had any time for the niceties of combat. He knew a way of breaking a man’s hand that stopped a fight, almost before it started.

  “Rolland, you! Why?” I asked.

  “For my King,” he hissed at me.

  “You’ve served the Emperor for years. Why try to kill him now?”

  “I served the usurper, only when I had no hope of the true king’s return.”

  “You’ve eaten the Emperor’s bread,” I said in disgust.

  “It choked me!”

  “Take him to the Emperor,” I told the soldiers. “Tell him the assassin has been found. He must decide his fate.”

  Lefebvre had rolled off Rolland and still lay curled on the ground. As the party left, I bent down to give him a hand up, when his groan startled me.

  “Jean? Are you hurt?” I'd been so engrossed; I had not realised he might be injured.

  “He had a knife and I broke the wrong wrist!” His grin was more of a grimace. “I must be getting old.”

  Horrified, I pulled back his jacket and the bright blood spurted through his clenched fingers. The knife still stood in his chest and, if I withdrew it, the bleeding would get much worse. Even so, I saw bubbles in the flow, so his lung was certainly punctured. The wound was a deathblow and Lefebvre knew it. I began to rise, to fetch help, but he caught my sleeve and held me.

  “You need a surgeon,” I said, “this wound is beyond me.”

  “Not enough time.” His words were starting to slur. “I’m dying. We both know it.”

  “Don’t leave me, Jean, not like this.” I could feel the hot tears start to my eyes.

  “Not my choice.” His lips crooked into a smile. “Never thought I’d be a hero, dying to save the Emperor.”

  “Not your style, I agree.” The words almost choked me but I forced them out. I would not waste the few moments we had left.

  “I was right again, wasn’t I?” he murmured. “About Rolland?”

  “You were. I’ll miss you, old friend.”

  “Give Eugénie my love... and look after Lucienne. Tell her I love her and I’m proud of her. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, except for her mother…”

  “I will; my word on it.” I squeezed his hand in token of the promise and felt a slight pressure in return. Then hi
s fingers relaxed. He slipped away, just as the artillery boomed out and the battle started.

  Chapter 9

  The noise washed over me but I didn’t hear it. I sat beside Lefebvre, holding his hand and remembering all our adventures. I’d saved his life and he’d returned the favour several times over. For those reasons, amongst others I named my son for him. I remembered his stories and his jokes and realised my life would never be the same again without him. Whatever I did from now on would be duller, because he would not be there to share it with me. We had been so lucky to have all those years together. The chances of one of us dying in the course of our investigations had been high but we always escaped — until now.

  I must have become a little mad, sitting there. I heard nothing; I saw nothing except a grey mist which floated before my eyes, blinding me. I was in another place, another time, and Jean was there with me. A light rain started to fall, wetting my shoulders and making Lefebvre’s still face glisten, as if he, too, was crying. The sound of the rising wind became lost in the artillery barrage, until the guns suddenly ceased. I came back to the present, when a particularly strong gust whipped leaves and broken twigs into my face. I felt as if I had awakened from a nightmare and I looked around me. The wood was relatively quiet and the fighting somewhere to my left, not nearby but not far either. I knew enough about battles to realise it would not stay that way. This place might soon be over-run.

  I glanced down at Lefebvre. I could not leave him there, like a cast-off toy. I had no intention of leaving him for the ravens to peck out his eyes unhindered or to be trampled by horses. I would have to bury him quickly. Suddenly I remembered Nathan’s burial in the quiet country churchyard. No time for that here. I would be lucky to get him underground before soldiers fought over the ground where he lay. I would have to hurry. I was taking a chance, but I did not see it that way at the time, only the clear duty I owed to my closest friend.