explore half a dozen islands.
Finally Margont exclaimed in exasperation, ‘It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack!’
‘Even an entire regiment wouldn’t be enough to find the island,’ admitted Relmyer.
Pagin painfully made his way back to the riverbank, exhausted and trembling, and delivered his conclusion: This man knows the area like the back of his hand.'
Lefine clenched his teeth. ‘We knew that already before wasting three hours here.’
Margont turned towards Relmyer. ‘Why don’t you show us the cellar you were locked up in?’
‘I don’t think we have time, it’s already late ...’
Late? It was midday! Relmyer wanted to return to the cellar, but at the same time he would have given anything never to have to set foot there again. ‘All right. I’ll take you,’ he conceded with bad grace.
They followed the banks of the Danube back towards the north-west. Then they skirted round Vienna to the north. Neither Lefine nor Margont had managed to visit that admirable city at the time of the 1805 campaign. All the riders except Relmyer looked towards it, avid to discover the least little detail about it even from afar. They lost time because there were troops in their path. The battalions had become muddled up trying to get round a mass of ammunition wagons. The light horse of the Imperial Guard, arriving in their turn, had decided to take the shortest route and simply galloped through the infantry. Bad idea. The resulting disorder rang with shouts, threats and injunctions. Behind this chaos could be seen the hand of Napoleon.
Lefine leant towards Margont. The Emperor is deploying his troops in the best way to confront the Austrian army, while still holding on firmly to Vienna. That will give pause to those who want to stir themselves to cause havoc behind us.’
Like every French soldier, Lefine still remembered the Viennese bells ringing out in celebration of the Austrian semi-victory at Essling.
Finally their way was clear and they were able to trot rapidly into the forest. It was denser and more massive than Margont could have imagined. Visibility dropped dramatically, as did the heat, which became more bearable. The hussars spread out one behind the other, a few paces apart. They held themselves at the ready, sabres or muskets in hand. Lefine and Margont were ill at ease. They passed a dead tree, suddenly revealing bushes, invisible the moment before. A group of shrubs trembled; was that just the wind? The tree trunks obscured their vision. If there were danger you would definitely not realise it until too late.
‘How much further, Lieutenant?’ asked Lefine.
Relmyer, lost in his memories, did not answer. Margont recalled an old history lesson. What was it now? Shortly after Jesus Christ, the Germanic Armin, chief of the Cherusci, annihilated three Roman legions that had imprudently taken a short cut through the Teutoburg forest. Margont moved up alongside Relmyer.
‘I hope we’re not going to linger here.’ ‘No.’ ‘Can you describe the man we’re looking for?’
The irregular shadows of the foliage flickered slowly across Relmy-er’s tormented features.
‘I’m tempted to say he was tall, but I was shorter at the time. His clothes were unremarkable, neither rich nor poor. His hair? Brown.’
‘And his face?’
Relmyer grew agitated at that question. ‘His face - I see it, but I can’t describe it! It’s like a splinter perfectly visible beneath the skin, but impossible to pull out. I only saw it briefly; then he made us turn our backs. It was so long ago ... Everything is so vivid but at the same time blurry. He was thirty-five or a bit younger ... with heavy eyebrows. No moustache or beard, blue eyes.’
‘Would you recognise him?’
‘Most probably. At least I think so ...’
‘And would he recognise you? Have you changed much?’
‘Yes, I have changed! Today I know how to fight.’
Actually, the answer to Margont’s question was obvious: Relmyer
still looked very young.
‘Let’s put that to one side for the moment. What can you tell me about his hands?’
‘His hands? He had two of them, each with five fingers. Flesh-coloured. Does that get you anywhere?’
‘You must have seen his hands, at least the one brandishing the weapon. Was he right-or left-handed?’
‘Right-handed, I’m sure about that.’
‘He knew this forest well, according to what you’ve told me. Did he have the calloused hands of a woodcutter?’
Relmyer brightened. ‘No, not at all! His hands were slender with clean nails.’
‘Are you certain you’re remembering correctly?’
‘I’m not remembering, I’m seeing them.’
After a while, Relmyer stopped. ‘It’s somewhere near here that he surprised us. But I can’t tell you exactly where.’ He made an effort to overcome his apprehension. ‘We have to go this way, now,’ he added, forcing his way through a curtain of branches.
They abandoned the path they had followed up to that point. The interplay of greens and shadows became even more pronounced. The horses picked their way painfully through bushes and branches.
‘We are a long way past Vienna now. You must have strayed far from your orphanage,’ remarked Margont.
‘At the time, I loved to ramble as far as possible. I had even thought of leaving, never to return. In the hope of abandoning my problems and grief at the orphanage. As if everything was their fault. But if I hadn’t gone back of my own accord, I would have been dragged back by the police or the orphanage staff...’
They continued on their way in silence. Birds sang with full throat, not the least bit intimidated by the presence of the horsemen. ‘Here we are,’ declared Relmyer finally.
Margont and Lefine stared, unable to make out anything unusual. Tree trunks, foliage, shrubbery, bushes ...
Relmyer leant over his horse, dumbfounded. Pagin joined him in
three bounds of his horse, pistol at the ready. The area had been burnt. The bushes, ivy and tall grasses, which had previously carpeted the clearing, were all singed. The remains of the walls, eaten away by the depredations of time and bad weather, had collapsed. They lay there, a heap of blackened rubble. Relmyer leapt from his horse and hurried over to the cellar. The roof had given way. Relmyer froze at the sight of the spectacle, his boots in the cinders. His back shook, a pale indication of his inner turmoil.
‘He came back and destroyed everything.'
Lefine and Margont dismounted in their turn and went over to him.
‘That’s just supposition,’ objected Margont. ‘Why would he do that? To—’
Relmyer rushed at Pagin, yelling, ‘Damn your eyes! I ordered you to stay here lying in wait! I’m going to have you arrested!’
The young hussar paled, looking suddenly more dead than alive. ‘I really wanted to, but it was impossible, Lieutenant ... I couldn’t do it on my own. Several Frenchmen have been assassinated by—’
Relmyer continued to fulminate, expecting the impossible. Margont intervened.
‘If Pagin had stayed here, his incinerated corpse would have been laid out in the middle of these ruins. It would have needed fifty to stay and keep watch; one is useless. You don’t have fifty troopers under your command. And even if you did, I doubt that your major would have let you do it.’
‘I should have stayed myself then!’ fumed Relmyer, going forward amongst the ruins.
‘That would have made you a deserter. Your men would have been forced to reveal where you were and—’