Marianne and the Crown of Fire

'What do you expect me to do? Rupture myself lifting the thing? If the Emperor comes, he'll just have to stop, that's all. There'll be soldiers to move the wagon, won't there?'

'I said the Emperor, not the army,' Amodru snapped back angrily. 'His Majesty is obliged to travel on ahead. He must be in Paris as soon as possible. It seems that there's bad trouble there. So are you going to help me – Oh, my God! Here they come!'

Three vehicles had emerged from the clump of trees that marked the bend in the road. They were the Emperor's sleeping coach and two closed carriages, all three white with frozen snow. They were followed by a dozen or so mounted men.

There was no time for Marianne to scramble back into the kibitka and hide. She gave a little moan and clung to Barbe, pressing her face into her shoulder. She was ashamed of the fear which suddenly possessed her, she who had faced so many perils far worse than an Emperor's wrath, even with the full force of the law behind it. Yet what frightened her was not so much Napoleon himself as the ill-luck which dogged her so relentlessly, raising one obstacle after another in her path. It almost seemed as if she were fated never to reach Danzig.

The outrider, meanwhile, was hurrying up to the leading vehicle where a head was already poking out of the window. Marianne heard a well-known voice demanding impatiently: 'Well? What is the matter here? What is this vehicle?'

'It belongs to two women, Majesty. They've broken a wheel and I haven't yet managed to clear the road.'

'Two women? What are two women doing at this hour of night on such a road as this?'

'I don't know, Sire. One of them speaks French with a local accent and the other with no accent at all. I think that she is French.'

'Wretched fugitives like ourselves, I daresay. Someone see what can be done for them. I will wait.'

So saying, Napoleon opened the door and sprang out on to the frozen snow. In spite of her terror, Marianne could not help stealing a glance at him as he wriggled out of the great bearskin that enveloped him and came towards her, walking with some difficulty on account of the thickness of his garments and the huge fur boots he wore. Then he was beside them and Marianne's heart was thudding in her breast as he addressed them pleasantly.

'You have suffered an accident, ladies?'

'Yes, Sire,' Barbe answered him hesitantly. 'We were hoping to reach Kovno before daybreak but then this mishap occurred – and my companion is barely recovered from a grave illness. I am afraid for her in this terrible cold.'

'I see. She must have shelter. May I inquire who you are?'

Barbe was opening her mouth to say something when all of a sudden something gave way inside Marianne. Perhaps it was the will to fight. She was tired of struggling against the whole world, mankind and the elements alike. She was tired and she was ill, and it seemed to her that any prison would be preferable to what she had endured. She thrust Barbe aside and, turning so that he could see her face, sank to her knees.

'It is I, Sire! Only I! Do with me what you will.'

He uttered a muffled exclamation and then, without turning, called out sharply: 'Rustan! A light!'

The mameluke hurried forward, looking like a mountain of furs with a turban perched incongruously on top. He carried a lantern and by its fitful light Napoleon studied her face, sunken with illness, and the tears that welled from her eyes and rolled freezing down her wan cheeks. A light flashed briefly on his own eyes and was as quickly extinguished. Then he was bending over her with so stern a look that she could only moan helplessly: 'Sire – will you never forgive me?'

He did not answer but took the lantern from the mameluke's hand.

'Take her,' he said. 'Put her in the coach. Her companion may travel with Constant. The horse can be unhitched and led but don't waste time on the cart. Push the wretched thing into the ditch and let's be on our way. We could all catch our death standing here.'

Rustan lifted Marianne without a word and set her down inside the coach. There was a man there already and Marianne's lips twitched involuntarily when she saw that it was Caulaincourt. He was staring at her in blank astonishment.

'We two seem fated to meet in unusual circumstances, my lord Duke,' she murmured, but then a violent fit of coughing shook her and she could say no more. At once, the Duke of Vicenza slipped a hot brick under her feet and reached for a travelling case from which he took a bottle of wine and a gilt cup. He poured some and held it to the girl's lips.

'You are ill,' he said sympathetically. 'This is no climate for women—'

He broke off as Napoleon climbed back into the coach and settled himself inside his bearskin once more. He appeared to be in a very bad temper. His movements were brusque and he was frowning heavily, but Marianne was feeling somewhat restored by the wine and she risked saying softly: 'How can I thank you, Sire? Your Majesty—'

'Be quiet.' He cut her off short. 'You'll make yourself cough again. Wait until we get to the inn.'

They reached Kovno in no time and drew up outside a house on the outskirts. It bore evidence of having been badly damaged at some time and only half of it was left standing. The rest of the town offered a similar picture, for Kovno had been largely destroyed in a disastrous fire some ten years before and had not yet recovered. Nor had the arrival of the French on this side of the Niemen improved matters. Except for the old castle, some of the churches and about half the dwelling houses, the whole place was in ruins.

The building in front of which the three carriages had stopped was an inn of a sort, kept by a young Italian, a cook who had come there with the army the previous summer. He seemed to be making a success of it because, although he had received no more than a few minutes' warning from the outrider Amodru, who had already ridden on again, he had worked miracles in the time. When Marianne entered the coffee room on Caulaincourt's arm there was a bright fire burning and she saw a table laid ready with a white cloth, white bread, roast chickens, cheese, preserves and wine and she felt as if she had walked into paradise. The room was warm and bright as a new pin and there was a delicious smell of omelettes in the air.

To Guglielmo Grandi, as he came forward bowing, cap in hand, Napoleon said bluntly: 'Have you a good bedchamber?'

'I have three, Imperial Majesty. Three good bedchambers. Does your Majesty wish to honour my house by staying to rest here?'

'Not me, I've no time. But this lady needs a bed. Have a room made ready. I see you've maidservants there. Have them light a fire and make some supper for her.'

He beckoned curtly to Barbe who had just come in, along with the occupants of the other carriages. These proved to be Duroc, General Mouton, Baron Fain and Constant. The latter, recognizing Marianne, came hurrying towards her, his face alight with joy.

'Princess! Good God! This is a miracle!'

Napoleon checked him sternly.

'That will do, Constant. See to it that the lady has everything she needs. And you,' he added, speaking to Barbe who had been staring at him with big, anxious eyes, 'go with her and help her to bed.'

'Sire!' Marianne begged. 'At least let me speak to you, explain—'

'No. Get to bed. You can scarcely stand. I will come up in a little while and tell you what I have decided.'

With that he turned away, as though she had ceased to exist, and began divesting himself of his great overcoat and peeling off numerous woollen garments that enveloped him like the layers of an onion. That done, he went to the table, sat down and began without further ado to demolish the omelette set piping hot before him.

As was his way, the Emperor did not dawdle over his meal. Only about ten minutes after packing Marianne off upstairs, Napoleon followed her. She had just got into the bed, which was so heaped with mattresses that it looked like a ship on the high seas, and was sipping with cautious enjoyment at the first cup of scalding hot milk she had seen for a long time.