The Barbed Crown (20 page)
“Don’t think I won’t have my revenge, Gage!” Pasques shouted from where he was trussed in the bow, on the other side of the steam engine in the boat’s center. “They’ll be sharpening the guillotine!”
“I saved your life,” I called over the racket of the machine. “You can thank me by shutting up.”
“Saved it after kicking my privates, damaging my legs, and toppling me into the freezing river! The blade is too swift for you!”
Sighing, I lashed the tiller again, grabbed my rifle, stepped over the churning gearing, and came up to him. Villains can be slow in realizing when advantage has turned. “If you’re so insistent at threatening me, perhaps I should drop you back in the Seine,” I said quietly. “Or simply shoot you for your foul temper and terrible manners.”
“You offended God, tried to sabotage the coronation, pummeled me, disrobed the grand chamberlain, and clouted Catherine Marceau.”
“It was you who assaulted me in Notre Dame. Have you no respect for a church, Inspector? And where have you put my wife and child? A simple expatriate family tries to enjoy French ceremony, and suddenly you’re kidnapping, grabbing, and shooting. Guillotine, indeed.”
“It was you who shot at me!”
“So you wouldn’t plunge through my steamboat. No one is more peace loving than me, Ethan Gage.”
He scowled, face swollen, throat red, clothes dripping. “Why do you even talk? Nothing useful comes out of that hole in your face.”
“If we’d remained friends you’d be dry and happy right now.” I shook my head. “Your judgment, Pasques, needs work.”
He writhed in his bonds. “They’ll send cavalry, Gage. The Seine winds like a serpent, and this smoking monster is slow as a nag. Your capture is inevitable.”
He had a point. Far from traveling in a straight line toward the sea, we were making long, looping twists through French farmland, issuing a plume of smoke to pinpoint our position. Despite my earlier optimism, I revised my opinion again and decided Fulton’s steamboat
was
a bad idea, at least for escaping spies. “True. So listen, Pasques: I’ve nothing to lose by murdering you. I’ll let you live only if you tell me what’s happened to my family.”
“How do I know? That bitch of yours struck me with a bag that had something hard inside and ran. Your little tramp rolled marbles on the church floor, and two grenadiers and a priest went sprawling. Talleyrand told us not to pursue.”
I sighed and aimed my rifle at his face. “Say that again.”
He looked sullen. “What?”
“Call my wife and child names, so I can squeeze my trigger without regret.”
From bitter experience I know gun barrels look enormous when pointed, and Pasques looked chastened. “I don’t always choose words carefully when I’m angry.”
“What was that? What did you call her?”
He was truculent but wary, since I looked like a madman. “We both know your wife is beautiful and wise. My apologies, monsieur.”
I shifted my aim away. “You actually have manners when you need them, Policeman. And Harry rolled his marbles? He does take after his father, doesn’t he?”
The Frenchman scowled. “Pity if he does.”
“Why would Talleyrand tell you not to pursue my wife?”
“Because she’s the one of real value.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Surely you don’t think all this fuss is about you, Ethan Gage.”
Again I felt off-balance. “But I do. I’ve consulted with Napoleon and Talleyrand. I’ve given advice to your army. I’ve written reports to England. I’m the celebrity all this has revolved around.”
“Your stupidity and vanity are impenetrable!”
“What the devil are you talking about?”
He shook his head, amused that even when tied like a hog he was in a position to lecture me. “You know that the comtesse was never a comtesse?”
“I guessed that, yes.” I paused before admitting it. “Today.”
“It was evil to strangle the real comtesse in her cell, but at least the revolutionaries recognized an opportunity to place a young agent in England. Your ‘governess’ was a rising intellectual, a firebrand of reform, and she volunteered to infiltrate the corruption that is called Britain to further our great cause. There she waited for more than a decade until proper use. And now, with the invasion of England ready, it was time to bring her home and put her spying talents to new uses. Meaning, Astiza.”
“Astiza? But my wife’s presence on the Channel coast was a complete accident.” Why did I always feel the fool?
“Word of her rescue came from the French islands in the Caribbean. Her research in Martinique was reported to the government. Here was a woman exploring the very subjects our leaders were interested in. We wanted her in France to harness her talents, but how to lure her after the tropical nightmare you conjured? Only one bait came to mind: you, hard as that was for us to believe.”
I stared at him. “I’m mere bait to attract my wife?”
“And to keep Catherine informed of any secrets you held, since you will tell attractive women anything. You’d draw Astiza to France with you, and through you we’d manipulate her. It was all planned from the beginning, including allowing you to invade the cardinal’s palace. Palatine we recruited, and when your wife didn’t seek him at a florist we planned, we moved him to a chemist shop with a new sign decorated with a rose. It’s been amusing to wind you up like mechanical toys and set you marching.”
I didn’t believe him, except I did. Even the gunfight in the ravine had been staged, I suspected. What was the loss of a few sentries to a man like Napoleon? The emperor had probably been briefed on the plan from the beginning, and his conversation with us at Boulogne was a nice piece of acting. Maybe the
gendarmerie
at the ravine hadn’t even been killed. Maybe they were playing dead.
I slumped. The interview with Réal, the consultation with General Duhèsme, the balloon experiments with Thilorier, had it all been to keep my wife in place and researching? Why had they thwarted her in the first place? To make her later permission seem real, and to put her on their side.
Now she’d escaped. Or had she? The grand chamberlain wanted her traveling east to search for the Brazen Head of Albertus Magnus. And she’d ultimately be more pliable, he’d assume, without her doughty American husband at her side. If they could capture me, I’d be hostage to ensure further cooperation. Astiza was quite capable of playing the wildcat all by herself, the French would discover, but in the meantime Catherine’s betrayal had once more broken up my family.
What a bollocks. It turns out I’m a terrible spy, trusting and honest to a fault. Living up to the maxims of Franklin makes me a better man, but a terrible espionage agent.
“Everyone plays me the fool, don’t they, Pasques?”
He nodded.
“Except you are tied up, and I am not.”
He scowled.
Time to ponder. I could fight through all of eastern France in hoping of catching up to Astiza and Harry. But the British were allies of the Austrian Empire, where Christian Rosenkreutz and Ruldolf II had done alchemical experiments. Why not get English help? I’d make a quick sea journey from London to Venice, Vienna’s backdoor, and dash from the Adriatic to Bohemia and Prague. There I could rendezvous with Astiza when she came by land from the other direction.
Maybe my old acquaintance Admiral Horatio Nelson would give me a ride. I contemplated Pasques. It was time to play this policeman as I’d been played.
“Yes, you French have been very clever. Yet before you struck Grand Chamberlain Talleyrand with your own colossal fist, he wasn’t approaching to seize me, was he? Now you must wonder: What was he trying to ask me? What did we talk about in the tower of Notre Dame? And what, exactly, does everyone want my wife to look for?”
“Monsieur Talleyrand does not confide in me.”
“He wants something he offered to pay me a great deal for.”
“What?”
“A secret that only I can decipher.”
“You’re lying.”
“He thinks Astiza and I might lead him to a treasure. So why not get it for myself now, and get my wife back in the process?”
“Because you’re a desperate fugitive headed in exactly the wrong direction.”
“Am I? My idea is to sail around to the backdoor of the Austrian Empire via the Mediterranean and Adriatic. So yes, maybe your cavalry will catch me, and you can watch the blade drop. Or maybe you will watch as the grand chamberlain inexplicably pardons me after my arrest, while dismissing you for striking him.”
“That was an accident.”
“You can stake your life and career on explaining that to one of the most ruthless men in Europe. Or—and this is where you have to use your imagination, Pasques—perhaps you and I can become partners and pull the puppet strings instead of dancing to them. We can become rich together.”
“Rich?”
“Think about it, Policeman. I’ve made you look like an incompetent by escaping the cathedral, toppling you from a bridge, and trussing you like a chicken. Your career is ruined. But I’m on the trail of something that Napoleon and Talleyrand are rivals for. So, I can kill you now; or drop you overboard; or leave you to be arrested, dismissed, and imprisoned . . . or you can help me get to England.”
“You’re insane!”
“Help get me to England and I’ll cut you in on the deal. If Talleyrand offers me ten thousand francs of his own free will, what will he pay when we’ve found the prize and are holding out for real ransom?”
“Ten thousand?”
“Your career is finished; instead of capturing me, you’ve allowed me to capture you. Réal will laugh before he sacks you and Talleyrand will sneer before he has you assassinated as an embarrassment.”
The giant glowered but knew I had a point.
“On the other hand, get me to England by telling me where police and patrols won’t be, and we’ll be rich as pirates, with no more answering to Réal, Talleyrand, or Napoleon. Get me to England, and you become not an agent of great men but a great man yourself. Help me find my wife, and you can enjoy the riches of a sultan.”
Anger had softened to doubt, and doubt had given way to curiosity. We were a long way from trust, but I’d intrigued him. “You have to tell me what you’re after.”
I winked. “The means to control the world.”
“How?”
“You’ll learn only by throwing in with me.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“Trust
me
? You’re the one who’s been arresting and pursuing and threatening.”
“There’s no way we can steam all the way to the Channel.”
“So go back to Réal and explain how I made a fool of you.”
He stared out over the dark water. “How many francs again?”
“Don’t think small, Pasques. How much of the world?”
“But how do you plan to get to England? They’ll block this boat at Honfleur.”
“I have a confederate. But first, do you want to partner with me? I can’t say it’s not dangerous, but I can say I offer riches instead of demotion and arrest.”
He sighed. “You’re a fool, American. But you have odd luck.”
“Yes.”
“The British will not put me in prison?”
“Not if you’re my ally. They think me clever.”
“You’ll treat me fairly?”
“I’ll proclaim you a hero.”
He shook his head, wriggling in his bonds. “Very well. I’ll betray my country to join a pirate American on an insane mission that will probably get us killed.”
“A wise choice. Otherwise, I’d just shoot and drown you.”
He looked at me slyly. “And your secret?”
“I’ll confide when we’re on our way to Bohemia. First we must reach England. We’ll put ashore near Argenteuil, aim the steamer downstream, tie the tiller, and let her go. Then we need to use a rose to find a redheaded Rose. And more roses, where we need to go.”
W
ith the help of Rose and Pasques, I returned to England that December of 1805 to save its navy with the secret plans I’d found in Talleyrand’s cloak. I expected to play the prodigal hero, while arranging transport to rescue my family.
Instead, I found myself reduced to jail, government service, penurious pay, and the disappointment of the French policeman. “You seem to be humiliated everywhere you go,” Pasques told me.
My problem was once again my naive trust, this time in financial advisers. In my absence from England my bankers had knotted my fortune with loss and exorbitant management fees. Not only couldn’t I afford passage to Venice, I was told, I must pay the boarding cost of feeding my new French ally during our jailing in a British castle used as a headquarters for spies. Instead of being applauded for changing world history, I found myself discredited and dependent.
I was mad with frustration and helpless to escape. Reuniting with wife and son must wait, I was told, on the outcome of Napoleon’s invasion of England.
“You’re not the only one being asked to make sacrifices,” Sir Sidney Smith told me when I complained. “Lord Nelson hasn’t set foot on land for years.”
As irksome as bad luck is getting no sympathy.
At first our escape from France went well. Pasques and I jumped off the
Vulcan
at Argenteuil and tied its tiller, sending it steaming downriver until it thrashed its way into a riverbank more than three miles away. The boat drew our pursuers to its column of smoke while I sent a flower to fetch the redheaded spy Rose, whose blue eyes appraised us skeptically before agreeing to help. She and Pasques warily combined their knowledge of French security to smuggle us to the Channel coast.
As we made our way the Frenchman began to warm toward me, as people do, and was intrigued by our comely spy. “Why is every woman you deal with as fair as a flower?” he asked as Rose led us on secret paths.
“Maybe I’m not as charmless as you think, Pasques. It was Rose who elected to deal with me.”
“Every woman I get is uglier than my sisters, and you can imagine, by looking at me, how truly ugly that is.” He glanced at me. “Can you help me do better?”
“You have to prove yourself dashing and exemplary.”
“I’m fleeing my own country in disgrace with a scoundrel.”
“But you’ve been in a steamboat and are after storied treasure. We’ll find you better clothes, too. Catherine always said fashion makes all the difference, and she’s the expert on being a poseur.”
We eventually arranged to signal Tom Johnstone’s smuggling sloop from the Channel coast, ran for England, and tidied ourselves for a hero’s welcome after handing over the French naval plans I’d stolen. I was desperate to go after Astiza and Harry and expected enthusiastic British reward.
Instead, we were jailed adjacent to the soldier’s kitchens in the bowels of Walmer Castle, a Tudor fort not far from Dover. We were being held, it was explained, as possible French saboteurs because of the likelihood I’d sold myself to the enemy due to my desperate poverty.
“What poverty?”
“You’re a ruined man and apparently deserve it,” our jailer said.
I hounded him with protest until I finally got to see Smith.
“We thought you’d thrown in with Boney again, Ethan,” my spymaster told me when Pasques and I were escorted from our dungeon cells. “You disappeared with an English stipend, and instead of Napoleon being assassinated or overthrown, he triumphed at his coronation. In fact, it was such a smashing success that he plans to repeat it in Milan, putting on the crown of Italy. Good heavens, you’ve enabled bloody Julius Caesar. I’m frankly surprised you’d the nerve to return at all after such a fiasco. And with a gigantic Frenchman?” He peered at Pasques. “He’s as expensive to feed as a horse.”
“Then let me go, English.” Pasques looked at me balefully as well, clearly disappointed with my official standing.
“And I’m offended to find myself imprisoned, Sir Sidney,” I tried, deciding it was best not to reveal I’d agreed to be a double agent to save my family. I tend to edit my résumé for each employer and was a little defensive about my ability to bounce from side to side. “Always I’m the victim of misunderstandings. I wove myself into the heart of the French military establishment and reported for months on French politics and arms. My reward for such courage is rude jailing?”
“Reports? Haven’t received a one. Pitt thought you were dead, but I said, No, Gage is a survivor but his alliances are one of convenience. Turncoat, I predicted. American, after all; the whole bloody country is a nest of traitors. So the man has betrayed us and is likely living in luxury in Paris, I said. The prime minister agreed, as we never expect much from foreign agents such as yourself.”
I was confused. “But I risked my life and my family’s life spying for England! I mailed regular as a gazette.”
“Apparently, what the French say and what they do are two different things, Ethan. We haven’t heard a peep from you or Comtesse Marceau since you both crossed the Channel last April.”
“She
is
a traitor, and not even a comtesse. She’s an imposter as secretive as a mole who betrayed me as well as you, Sir Sidney. Damned good at coronation fashion, however.”
He blinked. “Catherine Marceau is an enemy? I rather enjoyed her.”
“She lived with my family in Paris and broke us apart at the coronation. She’s the one who worked to make Napoleon’s crowning a success. I, meanwhile, told you everything I could learn about the French army.”
“Your reports probably made fine fire starter in the offices of Commissioner Réal after he had a chuckle reading them.” Smith cocked his head. “Unless you’re posing
now
in the service of Bonaparte and lying about your every action. You can’t be that clever, can you?”
I picked at some lice I’d acquired in our cell. “Certainly not. I just find myself working for everyone because I’m so popular.” I sat straight to feign dignity. “We can test me, can’t we?”
“How? Hot coals?” He looked sourly at Pasques, who looked sourly back.
“I’ve brought you a report I snatched from Talleyrand himself. It details plans to lure the British navy away from the Channel with a complex attack on Senegal, Surinam, and Saint Helena, involving dozens of ships crisscrossing the Atlantic. It’s impossibly ambitious, which means it came from Napoleon instead of his admirals. He thinks you can move sailing ships like chess pieces. The British Admiralty can judge whether it reflects real French movements, and thwart it by responding prudently.”
“Talleyrand? How the devil did you get that?”
“I work for him, too, or would have if Pasques here hadn’t floored him with a punch. I fled Paris on a new American invention called a steamboat, enlisted this heroic if hungry Frenchman here, and avoided pursuing patrols with the aid of a beautiful redheaded spy named Rose. I assume she’s yours?”
Smith blinked, skeptical but always seduced by derring-do. He longed to win wars with cleverness. “This Frenchman is heroic?”
“I struck the grand chamberlain only after I swung at you and missed,” my new companion spoke up, which I had coached him not to do.
“Yes, we make quite a team,” I put in.
Smith drummed his fingers, considering us. “Rose has helped us smuggle countless agents in and out of France, and I instructed her to contact you. An interesting woman with odd beliefs, she’s the follower of the rosy cross, if you’d heard of that bunch. Medieval mystics, mostly, but she thinks there’s something to it.”
I filed this assessment away for my own future use. “It’s not my fault the courier system you instructed me to use in Paris has been compromised.” I looked stern. “Nor that I never received a word of instruction from England. Now my wife and son have fled to central Europe and I need a ship to catch up with them.”
“A ship? You do have gall, Gage.”
“Passage to Venice. From there I’ll ride north to Bohemia. A fast frigate will do,” I demanded with more confidence than I felt.
“We’re going to win a huge fortune from Talleyrand and win the war single-handed,” Pasques put in, with the logic of a lunatic.
Smith looked from one to the other of us. “No one is sailing anywhere until I determine what side everybody is on. We’ll put this purported plan carried by Talleyrand to the test, as you’ve said.”
“Then I must be given leave to buy my own passage. My family is in peril, and time is critical. Let me play the spy in Prague.”
“Buy passage how?”
“With money. I believe that’s the conventional way.”
“But Ethan, you’re a debtor.”
“To the contrary, I’ve invested ambitiously and by now should have doubled my fortune,” I said without any conviction.
“I’m afraid you’d better consult with your financial advisers. Since you were in our employ as a spy, I ordered an audit of your affairs and was alarmed at what we learned. It was the collapse of your fortune that made us think you’d thrown in with Bonaparte.”
“But it can’t have collapsed. Can it?” My voice was strained.
“Your financial advisers can explain it in some detail. You’re a pauper, Gage. Our cell at Walmer here is the only thing that has kept you out of debtor’s prison. The only thing you possess is the hilt of a medieval sword.” He squinted. “You’re a very odd man.”
“I’m a collector of antiquities.”
He looked at me with pity. “I’m going to provide the necessary passes for you to consult with your bankers in London while we study these naval plans, holding the Frenchman here as guarantee of your return. Get a realistic appraisal of your financial situation, and then we’ll see where you stand. If you’re telling the truth, maybe we can salvage a crumb of career.”
A visit to London confirmed the worst. Hiram Tudwell received me in his counting house on Cornwall Street after a two-hour wait, timing it so he could plead office closing if our interview became too difficult. His bald head sprouted like a cabbage from a stiff cravat, his skin was the color of suet, and his suit was dark enough for a mortician.
“I’m afraid your holdings have become inaccessible, Mr. Gage,” the senior partner of Tudwell, Rawlings, and Spence announced. He regarded me like an unwanted relative.
“You mean my money is in a particularly remote and formidable vault?” I seize every opportunity to hear the bright side.
“I mean that your account has not generated the returns expected. It was ambitiously invested as you instructed, but dogged by events. A great deal of it has been captured in the Indian Ocean and auctioned off by the perfidious French.”
“Captured by the French? How could they capture ten thousand pounds from a London bank?” News of my calamity was being given in a high-ceilinged, mahogany-paneled room designed to enforce calm, but it wasn’t working. I’d been offered a cup of lukewarm tea and a stale biscuit, but that didn’t help, either.
“If you’ll recall, you gave our firm permission to invest your holdings in aggressive vehicles to maximize potential profits while you disappeared on the Continent. I believe you said you were comfortable with calibrated risk.”
“Not betting the whole table!”
“In your lengthy absence and complete lack of correspondence we diversified into coal mines, steam engines, a horse-drawn rail-wagon line to Portsmouth, and tea futures. The latter was based on delivery of a cargo on an East Indiaman, following recent victories by General Arthur Wellesley on the Indian subcontinent. We sought investments that were innovative and inclined to quick profit, our aggressiveness being the very model of bold financial stewardship. You had the potential to double your money in months. Astonishing opportunities these days, astonishing.”
“And?”
“The war has caused disruption. The East Indiaman was captured, the steam engines have yet to find a market, the coal works went bankrupt, and the horses all died. It was an excellent strategy, had it worked.” He pushed over a balance sheet to show me where my money went.
I struggled to understand it. “What’s this one thousand, one hundred twenty-seven pounds here, then?”
“Insurance premiums. Policy not payable, alas, for acts of war. A French battleship has been prowling off Africa. Can’t insure against that.”
“And this fifteen hundred pounds?”
“Our management fee.”
“Fifteen percent? That’s usury!”
“Our fee was in the fine print of your contract.”
I couldn’t be bothered to read such tedious documents. “What then is the five hundred thirty-two pounds for?”
“Incidental management expenses. Postage, correspondence, resolving of claims, business meals, refreshments, stationary, and office incidentals.”
“That’s not included in the fifteen hundred pounds?”
“Mr. Gage, our standard fee cannot cover the unanticipated exigencies of a complex and variable portfolio like yours.”
The Tripoli pirates were amateurs compared to this bunch. “And this two hundred seventy-one pounds?”
“Your losses were so severe that nothing remained in your accessible account to cover your final billing. That’s how much you still owe us. You still have a balance of nearly two thousand pounds on credit, but there’s a lien against it from a family called Chiswick, which claims you contracted with them to educate your son and then stole the boy away without paying in full.”
“My wife didn’t steal our own son!”
“They are seeking damages. I must say, your domestic affairs strike me as extremely untidy. Is that an American habit? I hope you’ll settle with your litigants so we can get our money.”
“My God. Are you monumentally incompetent, or simple thieves?”
“Insults will not help your situation. The decline of your portfolio results from political, financial, and competitive circumstances beyond our control. I can understand your disappointment, but I can assure you that, had we succeeded, you would have been a very wealthy man.” His expression was as animated as a corpse.
I instinctively reached for my tomahawk and regretted leaving it at home. “I risked my life and that of my family for that ten thousand pounds! This is the most outrageous financial burglary I’ve ever heard of!”