To him Roger said quickly, 'Sir, you will not recall me, but we met once before. It was while Mr. Pitt was out of office and commanding two battalions of Fencibles at Walmer. You came over from Hythe to give a talk on the new tactics you have invented, by which infantry should advance in open order, each man trained to fight independently, instead of offering a good target to enemy guns by going forward in massed formation.'
The General nodded. 'I remember the occasion and vaguely recall your face. What brings you here ?'
Roger produced the despatch for Soult. 'Time docs not now permit, Sir, for me to give you particulars of how it is that I am one of the Emperor's aides-de-camp. But I was charged to deliver this despatch with all speed. It instructs Marshal Soult to stand on the defensive should you attack him. Meanwhile the Emperor will already be giving orders for his main army to advance into the country to your south, and so encircle you.'
"That is bad news, indeed!' Sir John exclaimed. 'I have been delayed by a fool of a Spanish General telling me that the mountain roads were impassable for my artillery, which proved quite untrue when I crossed them with my main body; but I had already sent the guns round by a long detour. They reached me only a few days ago, and it was not until then that I was able to make contact with General Baird. But now, with twenty-seven thousand men, I had good hopes of routing Soult and cutting Napoleon's communications with France.'
'Alas, Sir,' Roger shook his head, 'that is now out of the question. Within a week, the Emperor will have at the least one hundred thousand troops massed against you.'
'I must retreat at once then, and by forced marches escape the trap. Given good fortune, I may yet get my army back to Corunna in lime to embark them in our ships and take them off to fight another day. Entrust me, please, with your name, Sir, that I may report confidentially to Mr. Canning or Lord Castlereagh this great service you have rendered me.'
'I am known to both, and am the son of the late Admiral Sir Christopher Brook. But I pray you, let that knowledge go no further.'
'Ah! Now I recall meeting you at Walmer. But, Mr. Brook, you look sadly worn. You must have refreshment and rest. I'll see to it.'
'Nay, I thank you, Sir.' Roger shook his head. 'Do I delay overmuch in getting this despatch to Soult, I'll be finished with Napoleon. I must return at once to Tondesillas with all possible speed.'
Sir John had a gig which he used on occasions. By the time Roger had drunk a glass of wine and munched a hastily-made sandwich, it was brought round. Having wrung his hand, the General saw him off. An hour later, he reached the vedette. The Captain of Hussars had had Roger's horse watered and fed. It was quickly saddled up, and Roger was off again.
By the time he reached the outskirts of Tondesillas, the late winter dawn was breaking. Behind a barn he changed back into his uniform. Skirting the town by byways, he came out on the road to Valladolid. The last twenty miles were agony. He was half-frozen, saddle-sore and incredibly tired. Half a mile outside the city, he turned into a bridle path, dismounted, removed his valise from the back of the saddle and gave his mount a sharp cut on the rump with his riding switch, causing the animal to bolt. Rallying his last reserves of strength, Roger walked into the town, to arrive at Marshal Soult's headquarters just before ten o'clock.
The grey-haired Marshal, whom Roger had met on many occasions, received him immediately he was announced. Roger had worked it out that, even had he ridden with less speed from Madrid, he should still have reached Valladolid in the early hours of the morning; so he had several hours to account for. Leaning heavily on a chairback, he told Soult that, after passing through Tondesillas, he had been shot at from behind a hedge; his horse had thrown him and bolted, and he was lucky to have escaped with his life, as he had rolled into a ditch where, in the darkness, his assailants had failed to find and murder him. He had not dared to leave the ditch for a considerable time, then had had to walk the rest of the way to Valladolid.
Such occurrences had become so frequent in Spain that the Marshal did not even think of questioning his statement; but ripped open the despatch, read it, shouted for his staff to give them urgent orders, then sent Roger off to bed.
Dead to the world, he slept through the day, roused in the evening, only to take a glass of wine and cat a wing of chicken which a friend of his on Soult's staff brought up to him, then slept again. On the 21st, he set off back to Madrid, but his thighs were still sore so he took the journey in leisurely fashion, not arriving until the 24th.
To his surprise, he learned that the Emperor had left Madrid for Paris in great haste on the evening of the previous day, so he must have passed along the road through Valladolid while Roger was sleeping. Between the 19th and the 23rd, Napoleon had placed Ney in command of the army despatched to outflank Sir John Moore, and for the past four days had been constantly sending couriers after him to insist that he press on in spite of a blizzard which was rendering the mountains of Galicia almost impassable. In view of the frenzied excitement the Emperor had displayed at this chance to destroy the British, his sudden departure was more than ever a mystery. But Roger learned the reason from Lavalette, one of his fellow A.D.C.s.
Undoubtedly, after the Emperor, Talleyrand and Fouche were the two most powerful men in France. Both had made immense fortunes, but their backgrounds and personalities were as different as it was possible for them to be.
The two men loathed and had constantly opposed each other. Napoleon had always secretly feared the intellect and influence of both; so it suited him admirably that his two principal lieutenants in directing the affairs of France should be irreconcilable.
It now emerged that the Emperor had learned that these erstwhile enemies, who never attended the same function if they could avoid each other, had been seen arm-in-arm at a reception given by Madame de Remusat. Still more formidable, Napoleon's stepson, Eugene de Beauharnais, Viceroy of Italy, had intercepted a letter from Talleyrand to Murat, informing the King of Naples that relays of horses were being stationed across France to bring him to Paris with the utmost speed in case of a certain eventuality.
Roger instantly saw the implications. He already knew that Talleyrand was secretly working to bring about the Emperor's downfall. Evidently Fouche now also realised that Napoleon's ceaseless wars were bleeding France to death, so his rule must be ended. They had decided to stage a coup d'etat while the Emperor had his hands full in Spain.
But why put Murat on the throne? Because, even if Joseph had been prepared to accept it, the French people would not have him, or any of the other Bonaparte brothers, as their Emperor. On the other hand, Murat, the handsome, dashing Cavalry leader, hero of a score of battles, was immensely popular and, pushed on by his boundlessly ambitious wife, Caroline, would not scruple to supplant his brother-in-law. Moreover, such a vain and stupid blockhead was just the sort of figurehead who would give no trouble, so enable Talleyrand and Fouche between them to rule France.
As they discussed the matter, Roger found that Lavalatte had reached the same conclusion. He had been left behind to see to certain matters which Napoleon had had no time to settle, but had now completed them. So, on the following morning the two A.D.C.s left Madrid together, speculating on whether, when they reached Paris, they would find that the two great conspirators had been arrested, or that Napoleon was deposed and the capital in a turmoil.