The Isle of Devils (45 page)

Harrier was personally conflicted by where his choices had led him. After Antietam, he had continued to serve in the Union Army, and took part in Sherman’s March to the Sea. After Lee’s surrender at Appomattox in April 1865, Harrier had found himself a skilled soldier with no other appreciable skills. Harrier considered attempting to settle into a peacetime appointment, but whenever he lay down at night, faces of the men that he had slain upon the battlefield visited him in the darkness. Only when he was exhausted from a day full of military exercises did the faces fail to appear. And so he took ship to the one country where they freely accepted soldiers from other countries.

Before he knew what had happened, he found his battalion back on a ship across the Atlantic. If Harrier had ever heard of the Monroe Doctrine, he had long since forgotten it, so that he was unconcerned that the Legion would ever come into conflict with the forces of his native land. Harrier arrived too late to participate in the Legion’s defense of Hacienda Camarón, already legendary throughout the globe. But he distinguished himself in innumerable other skirmishes with the Republican forces and soon found himself being rapidly promoted through the ranks.

§

Harrier was expected at the Casas Reales y Cárceles, the combination palace and jail that served as the Emperor’s headquarters, and he was rapidly escorted though a series of passageways into an ornate room. The thick walls kept out the afternoon heat, but also cast the room in perpetual gloom. Most of the light emanated from an extravagant candelabrum.

When Harrier entered the room, his gaze was immediately drawn to the man behind the desk. He was about Harrier’s age, but the cares of ruling a country had erased most of the hair from the top of his pate, with only some brown tufts persisted above his ears and running into an enormous splayed beard topped by an elaborate handlebar moustache. His eyes were a soft blue
and his mouth possessed a sensitive character. All in all, it was an unusual face to rise out of the Imperial uniform that he wore, his shoulders draped with worked golden chains.

Harrier was not surprised to find Maximilian flanked by the white-haired and bearded Generals Miguel Miramon and Tomás Mejía, both legendarily loyal to the Emperor. Two other men made up the remainder of Maximilian’s entourage. The first Harrier knew to be the suave Colonel Miguel Lopez. The Colonel had a pleasant cultured smooth face, high-nosed and pale, with something perhaps of petulance about the mouth. He had a steady eye and a brisk manner. His hair was grizzled round the edges, and thin upon the top. All three men were part of the loyalist Mexican Army. The final man was unfamiliar to Harrier, despite the fact that he was the only man to share his French uniform. The man had a sallow face, scored with deep lines and eyes that bordered on bilious, making it difficult to place his age, but nearer to fifty than forty. He had thinning black hair that receded from his high forehead, and his little pointed beard was touched with a hint of grey. He was rail-thin, but his bowed shoulders suggested weakness rather than lithe strength. His nose was thin and projecting, reminding Harrier of one of the buzzards that circled the skies of this land. His eyes were brown, and the candlelight reflected a calculated look. The shoulder insignia near his epaulets made clear that he was a Lieutenant-Colonel, one rank higher than Harrier.

Harrier saluted the five men and remained at attention, in deference to the Emperor. Colonel Lopez opened the introduction. “Commandant Harrier. At ease. Do you know, Colonel Moreau?”

Once he heard the name, Harrier realized that he did know the Frenchman by reputation. The man was descended from an honorable stock, but rumors had circulated about some questionable actions. However, Harrier’s silence was taken as a negative by Colonel Lopez, who continued. “No? Well, he brings grim tidings from General Bazaine at Veracruz.”

The Frenchman stepped forward, “As you know, Commandant, the French Army is withdrawing from Mexico. That now includes your battalion of the Legion, Commandant.” He fell silent, clearly awaiting a response from Harrier.

A great wave of relief washed over Harrier, and the expression clearly must have showed on his face.

General Mejía spoke up sharply. “You look pleased, Commandant.” His tone made clear that his fury was barely contained.

“I am most sorry about this news, General, for it plainly means that the Emperor must now withdraw as well. But personally, I would not be telling the truth if I did not admit that I am glad that I do not have to face my countrymen on the field of battle. I killed my fellow Americans for almost four years, more of them than I care to remember. I would prefer to never do so again.”

“I am not abdicating, Commandant,” the voice was pleasant, the words precise despite the Germanic accent. It was the voice of a scholar, not an Emperor. “I may not have been born in Mexico, but I have come to love this land and its people. I have served them to the best of my abilities, and this is my adopted country now. Despite what Napoleon III urges, I will not abandon them. I have asked them if they want me to abdicate and the answer was clear. They want me here, and I will stay.”

Harrier was silent. The Emperor’s proclamation did not require an answer. But the Emperor appeared to see the hint of a question in his eyes.

“Do you have an observation, Commandant?” the Emperor asked. “Feel free to speak your mind.”

“Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty, your devotion is not in question. Nor is the bravery of the Imperial Mexican Army. But without the French forces, your men will be hopelessly outnumbered by the Republican forces of Juárez. You have only about eight thousand men.”

The Emperor smiled grimly and shook his head. “You are not wrong, Commandant. But Santiago de Querétaro will not be easy to take, no matter how many men Juárez has. We can hold out until reinforcements come.”

Harrier frowned in incomprehension. “Reinforcements, Your Imperial Majesty?”

“As much as I would like to think that all men fight for honor or loyalty, the reality is that there will always be men who are willing to fight for monetary gain. As long as I can buy their loyalty, this war can still be won. But my resources here in Mexico are finite. I need someone to travel to Europe and raise capital to use for funds. That is why you are here, Commandant.”

If possible, Harrier’s frown deepened further. “Sire?”

“General Miramon here has asked questions, Commandant. He has sought a vast numbers of opinions as to who is the most honest man in the French forces. Imagine his surprise, Commandant, when he discovered that the most honest Frenchman was actually an American! The men were unanimous in choosing you, Commandant.”

Harrier shook his head vigorously. “I am not worthy of such an appraisal, Sire.”

“It is not a matter of debate, Commandant. Your superior officer, Colonel Moreau has agreed that you and a section of your choosing will be temporarily seconded to the Mexican Army. But you will not fight in the siege of Santiago de Querétaro. Nor will you withdraw with the main French forces, which are likely to be harried by Juárez all of the way to Veracruz, and who will therefore move slowly. Instead, your squadron will move like the wind towards the sea. You will take this coffer to Paris and place it into the hands of Napoleon III himself. He owes me as much, since he failed to aid my dear Carlota.”

“They are all cowards!” General Mejía spoke with disdain. General Miramon raised a hand to try to stay Mejía’s outburst, but the rash General would not be stopped. “No! Forgive me, my Emperor, but I will speak my mind! Napoleon! Bah, that fat fool isn’t fit to carry the name of his illustrious uncle.” Lieutenant-Colonel Moreau stiffened at these words, but General Mejía plowed on. “Your brother is equally useless, quivering in Vienna after being slapped about by Bismarck. Even Pius IX proved to be nothing but a greedy little Italian coward. None of them deserve to call themselves gentlemen after turning away the supplications of the Empress Carlota herself!”

Harrier thought the Emperor would be upset at these vicious insults of the great leaders of Europe, as well as the Pope himself. Not that Harrier disagreed with General Mejía’s opinions, but he would never dare to voice them aloud. The Emperor only laughed, as if he had heard this a hundred times before. “Come, come, General. Let us not upset these fine officers of the French Legion by besmirching the name of their Emperor. Napoleon’s concerns are valid. Between the United States Army encamped upon our northern borders, and Bismarck’s Prussians amassing upon his eastern frontier, Napoleon III’s forces are spread too thin. There is no shame in his withdrawal. As for my brother and the Pope, however, you may have a point.”

Harrier licked his lips with an atypical nervousness. “Your Imperial Majesty, may I ask what is inside the coffer?”

The Emperor nodded. “Of course. A man should understand the reason why he is risking his life. You may know, Commandant, that before I was called to lead this great nation, I made some inquiries into the natural sciences. As part of that pursuit, in 1860 I undertook a voyage to the rain forests of Brazil. There I was given the opportunity to purchase a few gemstones of a remarkable size and clarity from all about the South American continent. These are what I wish Napoleon to sell for me.” He took a key from a silken cord about his neck and turned it in the coffer’s lock. As Maximilian threw open the lid, the lights of the candles reflected upon a collection of gems that Harrier had never thought to lay eyes upon outside of a drawing from the Arabian Nights.

“At the bottom of the stones, Commandant, there is a detailed list of what the coffer contains, sealed by my hand, so that no stone can disappear or be substituted with a lesser one. There are two hundred and twelve diamonds of the first water from the Gran Sabana region of Venezuela, including the magnificent thirty-three carat greenish-yellow Carlota Diamond, now named after my consort. There are three hundred and four yellow topazes from the Ouro Preto mine in Brazil, two hundred and forty-two aquamarine beryls from Aracuaí, Brazil, ninety red garnets from Lavra Navegadora, Brazil, a hundred and twenty three opals from the Sierra Gorda, seventy agates, half from Brazil and half the fabled Cyclops agate of Mexico, and eighty-eight turquoises from Chuquicamata in northern Chile. But the pride of the collection is the unparalleled
émeraudes
from the Muzo and Cosquez mines of Columbia. There are two hundred and fifty-seven common emeralds, including an emerald and diamond necklace that is of inestimable value. There are two emeralds of particular note. The first has become known as the Maximilian Emerald. It is twenty-one carats in size and a deep grass-green color. It was cut and set for me into a golden ring, and it alone is worth a small duchy. Finally, there is another stone, known as the Empress Emerald, which at two-hundred and thirty carats is the second largest emerald in existence, even larger than the Moghul Emerald. The largest, of course, was the Queen Isabella Emerald, however, in 1757 the ship carrying it to Spain mysteriously caught fire and burnt somewhere in the strange waters between Florida and Bermuda. The Queen Isabella will never be seen again and so the Empress Emerald, named after my wife, has now claimed the premier spot on that exclusive list.” Maximilian plucked the Empress Emerald from its berth in the coffer and held it up to the light. It was cut into a multitude of facets, which made it appear to be almost a perfect dark green sphere the size of a child’s fist. “But this emerald was not purchased on my trip
to the Amazon,” the Emperor continued. “The Empress Emerald was given to me by the grateful inhabitants of my new home. For this emerald once belonged to Cuauhtémoc, the last king of the Aztecs. In 1521, Cuauhtémoc was captured by the Conquistadors trying to cross Lake Texcoco in disguise while fleeing from the eighty-day siege of Tenochtitlan. Hernán Cortés tortured him for four years trying to get the king to divulge the whereabouts of his hidden treasures.

“Cortés was a monster, of course, his greed insatiable. Upon his arrival he had been handed the Stone of Judgment, later called the Isabella Emerald, by Montezuma himself. It was thought to be the most powerful instrument of the Aztec culture, destined to be reclaimed by Quetzalcoatl upon his return, as prophesied in the Aztec Codex. There was a legend that the when the Stone of Judgment is reunited with twelve crystal skulls, the secrets of the universe will be revealed to its bearer. But it now lies in the waters of the Atlantic. Cortés was not satisfied with owning this great stone. He wanted more, and he was aware of another legend that spoke of an emerald called the Stone of Life, able to impart eternal youth to its bearer. It was said that Cortés desired this mystical stone more than anything in the world, but Cuauhtémoc valiantly refused to lead him to it. Finally, in a fury Cortés had the king executed, ensuring that the Conquistadors would never learn the stone’s hidden whereabouts. But over three hundred years later my grateful people presented it to me when they realized that I came here to lead this nation to greatness, not  despoil its riches like so many before me. Its value is inestimable and it pains me deeply to send it from this land, where it belongs. But someday, when there is peace in the land, we will reclaim it. Though,” he paused, finally smiling sadly, the lines of care worn deep into his brow, “I am afraid that it has not shed any
years
from this face.”