For two terrible minutes the four thin shafts of steel clanged and slithered, rasping on one another for a second then flickering like writhing snakes in the light of the flames as they swept in swift arcs from head high, down to knee level and back. With three blades against him, Roger dare not use his skill in feints or tricks as he would have in a duel; neither could he give back, and he had no room to use swift footwork to his advantage. It was all he could do to parry the lunges and keep his opponents off by making sudden jabs at the eyes of one or other of them every few moments.
Stooping suddenly, the man on the right ducked down, got past Roger's guard with a low thrust and pierced his left leg half-way up the thigh. Before the blade could be withdrawn, Roger's had entered the man's throat. He fell, gurgling horribly. But the man in the jersey sheathed his knife and, snatching up the fallen man's sword, took his place.
The pace of the swordplay to keep three men at bay was so furious that Roger was tiring now. His sword arm felt as heavy as lead, his wrist was aching; so, too, was his burnt hand. So far none of his wounds had been serious and in the heat of the conflict he hardly felt them; but he was losing blood from three places. Sweat was pouring from him and mingling with the rain that still pattered on his face.
The odds were still three to one against him and he knew that he could not keep it up much longer. Yet every moment that he could remain on his feet meant just a shade better chance that the kidnappers would not get away with their captive. From the first he had realised that they might do so by getting out of the boat-house one of the boats belonging to the casino, but in the excitement none of them had yet thought of that. And if they did, its caulking might have become so dry from long disuse, that it would prove unserviceable. He could only pray that that would be so if the idea occurred to any of them, and in the meantime continue to defend the one boat by which they could be certain of carrying Boneparte off if only they could get him into it.
Desperately he fought on, cutting, thrusting, slashing, always threatening the eyes of his attackers, and using his left arm wrapped in its sodden cloak as a buckler to parry the thrusts that came at him from that side.
Suddenly he saw an opening. His sword point darted forward ripping open the cheek of the man in front of him. With a loud cry his victim reeled sideways, cannoning into the man in the jersey and knocking his blade aside. Next second Roger had driven his blade through the jersey into the man's stomach. The third man, now aghast at finding himself alone against so terrible an antagonist, sprang away. Hastily, he and his companion with the slit cheek retreated several yards to join two others who had been standing in the background with their swords drawn but irresolute expressions on their faces.
For a moment Roger stood there gasping and panting, the bodies of the men he had slain or injured in a ring before him, the point of his sword dripping blood on the ground. In the glare of the flames his face looked like a death-mask, lit by the hard, glinting, jewelled eyes of an idol. His heart was beating furiously. Borne up on a sudden wave of triumph he rasped out. defiantly:
'Come on, you bastards! Come and get your gizzards slit!'
Had they accepted his challenge, he was so exhausted that he could hardly again have lifted his sword arm; but his daring in making it saved him. Believing that he still had plenty of fight left in him, none of them had the courage to renew the attack. Instead, with the wounded who were still on their feet, and the still less warlike who were crowded round Boneparte, they broke into a heated argument upon what they should do next.
Their querulous dispute ended as quickly as it had begun. Like angels' music in Roger's ears, there suddenly came shouts of 'Vive la Republic! Vive Boneparte! Vive Boneparte!' and a surge of men swept round the corner of the casino.
The beacon made by the blazing wood shed had brought Andoche Junot to Portillo and he had arrived on the garden side. A magnificent figure, his sword held high, the flames glittering on the gold of his pelisse, the future Due d'Abrantes came hurtling across the wharf to the rescue of his future Emperor, and after him streamed the picked men of the Hundred and Thirty-first.
The Venetians scattered like chaff before the wind; the soldiers pursued and seized them. Boneparte was left standing alone. Suddenly he strode forward, put his arms behind his back, confronted Roger, and said:
'Colonel Breuc, your sword-play was magnificent. You shall be mentioned in an order to the Army. But I require explanations. I do not understand how these people could have known that I was here. Tell Junot to have all those who can walk brought into the salon.'
Turning away abruptly, he stalked back to the casino and disappeared through its doorway.
Ten minutes later his order had been obeyed. The conspirators had been rounded up and herded inside. Boneparte again stood behind the supper table. Sirisha, pale but composed, was seated to one side of him on the sofa. Roger and Junot stood on the other. On entering the room Roger had looked quickly about for Malderini, and spotted him standing in a corner near the door to the kitchen. The sides of the room, all but that adjacent to the bedroom, were now lined with troops; so, knowing that Malderini could not get away for the moment, Roger took no special action.
The noise of shuffling, low moans from the wounded, and apprehensive murmurs, filled the room. Boneparte called sharply for silence, then turned to Roger and asked, 'How did these conspirators know that I was here? You were insistent that I should take an escort, and must have told Junot to follow us. You must have known there would be an attempt to kidnap me. What have you to say?'
Now had come the awful moment that Roger had known all along he would have to face. He replied boldly, 'Mon General, I am entirely to blame. I learned from Villetard that in Venice a conspiracy was being hatched against French interests. When the Peace had been signed and the bulk of our troops withdrawn from Italy, the conspirators intended to launch a coup d'etat to overthrow the new pro-French Government and re-establish the Serenissima. I decided that the best means of averting such a menace to the interests of France in Italy was to induce the conspirators to show their hand prematurely, then crush them.'
'You mean that, with this in mind, you used me to bait a trap?'
'I confess it. Had you not upset my plans at the last moment by refusing to take an escort, you would have been in no danger. Even then, had it not been for the storm, Colonel Junot would have arrived on Portillo before the conspirators and saved you from the indignities to which you have been subjected.'
'Your arrogance is almost unbelievable.' Boneparte struck the table with his fist. 'Risk or no risk, that one of my aides-de-camp should have dared to use his General-in-Chief like a piece of cheese for these miserable mice robs me of words with which to blast you.'
Without flinching, Roger faced the blazing anger in the Corsican's eyes. Sadly he shook his head. 'Mon General, you do me a great injustice. It was not merely to trap these miserable people that I hatched this plot. You have mentioned to me many times that the people of Venice love and honour you; that they are grateful to you for the freedom you brought them; that they are to be relied on when you are gone back to France to maintain an independent City State, governed on the principles of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity. It may have been presumptuous of me, but I wished you to see for yourself how ill-founded was your belief. Look at them! There are not only noble ex-Senators here. There are also men of the robe, bourgeoisie, and even members of the proletariat. They are representative of Venice. For France and yourself they have only hatred. My object was to unmask them before you.'