For three days they continued to bicker over the question. Then, on the morning of June 24th, an officer arrived at Roger's inn with a message that His Excellency the General-Duke desired to see him upon an urgent matter.
Going to the palace, Roger found his not very intelligent but normally cheerful friend looking far from happy. Having greeted him awkwardly, Junot said:
'Mon vieux, I am greatly distressed because I fear that, unwittingly, I have brought misfortune upon you. In a recent letter to the Emperor, I happened to mention that you had recently returned from Brazil, where you had captured a beautiful young heiress, and were here in Lisbon. From him, only a few hours since, I received a despatch. He has ordered me to send you to him in Madrid under close arrest.'
Caught in the Web
Since his return to Lisbon at the beginning of the month, Roger had not given a thought to Napoleon. His mind had been occupied by, in turn, the importance of getting his intelligence on the situation in Spain to Canning, Lisala's affairs, and his desire to persuade her to return to England.
For several years past, his mind had seesawed between the desire to be done for good with courts and camps, and settle down to a safe, pleasant life at home; then, after a period, the restless urge to play again a part in great affairs. Sickened by the terrible crossing of the Atlantic, which had been forced upon him, and the dreary discomfort of existence in Rio, the fortnight he had recently spent in England had made residing there permanently seem more than ever attractive. Only Lisala's insistence on claiming her fortune had persuaded him to contemplate returning to Portugal and Canning's appeal to his patriotsm finally decided him to do so. But he had had no intention of remaining there a day longer than was necessary, much less of re-entering the service of the Emperor. Now, once more, he had become involved, and most dangerously, with Napoleon.
Giving a resigned shrug, he said to Junot, 'Since our master has ordered you to send me to Madrid, I must obviously submit. But why he should require my presence there—and under arrest—I cannot think.'
Junot shrugged. 'Surely the explanation is not far to seek. Having learned that you are once more in Europe, he resents the fact that you should have dallied here in Lisbon, instead of reporting at once to him. I can only say again how sorry I am that I should inadvertently have brought this about, by a mention that, at a reception I gave not long since, you and your beautiful wife were among the guests.'
'That was understandable enough. But what of her? Can she accompany me on the journey, and will you give me a day or so in order that she may have time to prepare herself for it?'
'I would I could: but I dare not. She can follow you, of course. But the order is marked "immediate". And you know our master well enough to be sure that he will tolerate no delay. While I send to your inn for your belongings, you can write her a note explaining your sudden departure; but you must set off within the hour.'
Putting as good a face as he could on the matter, Roger sat down and penned a letter to Lisala.
They had never spoken of her having murdered her father and he had, as far as possible, put it out of his mind. Recognising that, when thwarted, rage could temporarily rob her of all control, he told himself that she had not intended to kill the Marquis, but struck out in blind fury, concerned at that moment only with saving him, her lover.
Since leaving Brazil, apart from occasional outbursts brought on by her determination to get her own way, they had been happy together. Her beauty had continued to have a mesmerising effect upon him and, owing to their circumstances during the past three months, her demands that he should make love to her had been no greater than he had been happy to meet.
In consequence, his letter expressed genuine distress at being parted from her and an assurance, about which he was very far from confident, that they would soon be re-united. However, thinking it wiser to await the outcome of his interview with the Emperor, he did not suggest that she should at once follow him to Madrid. Instead, he told her that, should any trouble arise, she could rely on the friendship of Junot and his Duchess, as the General had already promised that they would take every care of her.
Shortly before midday, the Captain of Hussars who had brought Roger Junot's message that morning, came in to report that a coach was now loaded with baggage and provisions and ready to set out. Junot said that the Captain was to act as escort; so Roger formally surrendered his sword to him and took leave of his old friend. Ten minutes later, the coach was jolting over the cobbles, on its way to Madrid.
The Captain was a pleasant young man and, knowing Roger's high reputation with the Army, did all he could to make the journey agreeable. But for Roger it entailed four days of gnawing anxiety. He had always previously succeeded in producing to Napoleon plausible reasons for his long absence from headquarters. But the present case was going to be exceptionally difficult to explain away.
He thought it certain that General Gardane would have reported his departure from Isfahan on a project of his own invention—that he would proceed to Goa, the Portuguese settlement in India, and there assess its vulnerability to a surprise attack by the French. But he had never been to Goa and, if he had, he could not possibly have reached Lisbon until several weeks after Don Joao's fleet had sailed for Brazil. How, then, was he going to account for having been in one of the ships and carried off in her, owing to a storm?
Napoleon was extraordinarily indulgent to old friends and, even when his Secret Police reported that one of his early comrades-in-arms was conspiring against him, would do no more than transfer the offender to some distant command, where he was deprived of any opportunity to make mischief. But in matters of discipline he was adamant. Those who disobeyed his orders did so at their dire peril. He had reduced at least one General to the ranks, and other victims of his displeasure had found their prospects of advancement blighted for good after interviews during which he had vented his wrath upon them.
Roger was no longer concerned for his career in the French Army; but, the nearer they came to Madrid, the more he feared that, for having deliberately ignored the Emperor's instructions, he might shorrty find himself serving a sentence in a fortress.
On June 29th, they drove into the Spanish capital. At the Royal Palace, the young Captain handed Roger over to the Provost Marshal, and obtained a receipt for him. The Provost asked him for his parole. Knowing that an attempt to escape would be to admit guilt, he gave it willingly. He was then taken to a not unpleasant room on the third floor and left there.
Presently, in deference to his rank, a soldier servant was sent to bring up his meals and attend to his other requirements. During the three days that followed, no-one else entered his room, and he was left to brood in considerable apprehension on what the future held in store for him.
It was early in the evening of the fourth day that two officers arrived, to escort him to the Presence. As he tidied himself up, his heart began to beat a little faster, from the frightening knowledge that, within the next half-hour he would, unless he played his cards supremely well, find himself stripped of his uniform and being taken off to a cell.
Placing himself between his escorts, he was marched downstairs, to the lofty main floor of the building. The guards at a pair of tall double doors came smartly to attention. An equerry rapped sharply on the doors with a silver-headed wand, waited a moment, then threw them open.
They gave on to a huge, white and gold salon, at the far end of which Napoleon was pacing slowly up and down. Abruptly coming to a halt, he turned and with a gruff word, dismissed Roger's escort. As the two officers fell back, Roger continued to advance, his eyes fixed on the Emperor.