Evil in a Mask

He was, as usual, dressed in the white breeches and green tunic of the Guides. Since Roger had last seen him, he had put on weight and now had a small, but definite, paunch. His face was very pale, and his smooth forehead seemed to bulge more than ever under dark hair which had thinned a little and was brushed sideways. The two most striking things about him were the breadth of his head, with its powerful, forward-thrusting jaw, and his fine eyes, which were now glowering with anger. The expression of those eyes showed that he was in one of his blackest moods.

Within a few feet of a broad, satinwood desk littered with papers and maps, Roger halted and bowed three times. Napoleon snarled at him:

'What have you to say for yourself?'

'A great deal, Sire,' Roger replied quietly, 'having, as ever, been most diligent in your service.'

'You lie! Instead of carrying out my orders, you have been gallivanting across half the world, pursuing some woman.'

Roger knew that, if he allowed himself to be bullied, within a matter of minutes he would be dismissed and finished. Permitting himself a slight smile, he said, 'Do not we all at times? That is, men who are men, like Your Majesty and me. I trust the Countess Walewska is in good health; or has she . . . er, been replaced by ...'

'Silence! I have not had you brought here to talk of bedfellows, but to demand an explanation of your flagrant disobedience.'

'Then talk of bedfellows we must, Sire. What goes on in the beds you frequent is known only to Fouche, but . . .' 'That rogue!'

'Why, yes.' Roger proceeded to develop the red herring. ' Tis common knowledge that it is reported to him every time you use a chamber pot.'

'Who in hell's name told you that?'

'Oh, er . . . a charming lady who later pleasured me with her embraces.'

'Her name? Who was this spying whore?'

Roger shook his head. 'How can you ask such a thing? Your Majesty and I are men of honour. We do not kiss and tell. Suffice it that she took me only because she was overwrought with distress at having been abandoned by you, Sire.'

Slightly mollified, the Emperor snapped, 'That Fouche should spy upon my private life is intolerable.'

'You are unfair, Sire. He docs so only for your protection, and no monarch could have a more competent Chief of Police.'

'He is as cunning a rascal as ever drew breath, and useful in such matters as dealing with these eternally rebellious Chouans. But I long since took the Ministry of Police from him and gave it to General Savary.'

'Of that I was aware; but Fouche still concerns himself for Your Majesty's safety. Savary, I am told, showed great ability in luring Prince Ferdinand across the border to you in Bayonne.'

'He did indeed; and it was no easy task. That great blockhead, Murat, got on his high horse and declared that, as a soldier, it was beneath him to soil his hands with such a business; and the Spanish people did their utmost to prevent the Prince from leaving Madrid. But Savary beguiled him with a promise that we would let him have the throne and, on the last stage of the journey, when he endeavoured to break away, virtually kidnapped him.'.

For a moment Napoleon paused, then he went on reminiscently. *What scenes took place when I did have them all at Bayonne. That imbecile old King, his ugly, lecherous Queen, poor Godoy with his handsome face a mass of scars, and that cowardly young swine of a Prince. They near tore one another to pieces. But I made them all dance to my tune, then packed them off to Talleyrand at his chateau of Valencay.'

As Roger listened, his spirits rose. It was like old times for the Emperor to be talking to him in such a familiar strain. But he was counting his chickens before they were hatched. With a sudden change of mood, Napoleon glowered at him and said:

'But we are not here to talk of such matters. Enough of police and women.'

'Forgive me, Sire,' Roger put in quickly, ‘But a woman is the cause of your displeasure with me. I was about to say that you take women to bed only as a relaxation; whereas I have frequently gone to bed with one in order to learn secrets that are of value to you.'

'And what have you learned in this case?'

'Alas, Sire; nothing of any importance. But, had fortune favoured me, I might have done, and I may yet'

Napoleon scowled. "You have the effrontery to tell me that on this slender chance you ignored my commands and absented yourself from duty for many months?'

'That is not so. I did my utmost for you both in Turkey and Persia, then...'

'Then, instead of accompanying Gardane's Mission to India, you told him some cock-and-bull story about going off on your own to Goa.'

'It was as good an excuse as I could think of to leave his Mission.'

'Excuse to chase this woman who had besotted you back to Europe, instead of obeying my instructions regarding the Mahratta Princes.'

'I told you, Sire, before leaving Poland that, although I had once crossed India, I knew little of that vast country, and I considered that I could serve you better . . .'

The Emperor's eyes blazed and his face was becoming purple, as he bellowed, 'So you set yourself up to be a better judge of my interests than I am.'

'Sire!' Roger held up a warning hand. "I beg you to have a care. Last time we had a ... a slight difference of opinion, you...'

'Slight, mon Dieu! You had seduced my sister Pauline, and had the infernal impudence to ask my consent to your marrying her.'

Roger managed to force a laugh. 'Oh, come, Sire. Twas she who seduced me; and you know her amorous inclinations well enough to believe that. I was about to say, though, that our interview ended by Your Majesty's having an epileptic fit.'

Turning away, Napoleon began to walk up and down, his hands clasped behind his back, as he fought to regain control of himself; then he muttered, 'Yes . . . yes. That is true. But no-one must know of these . . . these occasional attacks. You have not mentioned it?'

'Is that likely? I am Your Majesty's most loyal servant.'

'Fiddlesticks! Were that so you would not have disobeyed me.'

'It was in your interests. The lady concerned is the daughter of the Marquis de Pombal. He was the Portuguese Ambassador in Isfahan.¹

'I know it.'

'Very well then. He was recalled to Lisbon. As one of the most trusted advisers of Don Joao he would have been privy to all the Prince Regent's secrets, and I would have learned them through his daughter. Knowing from long past Your Majesty's designs on Portugal, I decided ...'

'So that is your story. You are as plausible as ever. But I do not believe it. Fathers do not divulge State secrets to their daughters. And how, pray, did you think to serve me by going off to Brazil?'

'It was not my intention. I was aboard a ship endeavouring to influence de Pombal into persuading Don Joao to postpone the sailing of the fleet, in order to give Junot time to arrive and capture it. A storm blew up, I could not get back to shore, and was carried off to Brazil against my will.'

'Junot! That bungler! What a mess he made of things.'

'You are unfair, Sire. Junot performed a miracle by reaching Lisbon at all. He led his troops through storm, flood and a land naked of provisions. His army of thirty thousand literally fell to pieces. When he did arrive, he had left only fifteen hundred starving men.'

'But he failed, he failed! And I accept no excuses for failure.'

Roger decided that the time had come to take the offensive, and he burst out with simulated anger:

'I know it! And you should be ashamed of yourself for having denied poor Junot his Marshal's baton. He, I and scores of your Other old friends go through fire for you and suffer incredible hardships. Yet, if fate thwarts our efforts, what do we get from you? Only kicks and curses. Why any of us should continue to serve such a master, I cannot think.'