'Oh, my poor Fortunée! You are involved in my disgrace! He would not see you because he knows you are my friend.'
'Well, if he does it's because he threw us together. Actually, though, I think it is rather my friendship with Josephine which makes him keep me at a distance. They say her new Danubian majesty is horribly jealous of anything even remotely connected with our own dear Empress. Indeed, I never really thought Napoleon would see me – in fact I expected it so little that I went to the trouble of making a few inquiries on my own account. The day after tomorrow the Emperor goes hunting. You may come upon him at some time during that day – and although he may be a little angry at first, I shall be very much surprised if he won't listen to you.'
'He must listen to me! Even if I have to throw myself under his horse's hooves!'
'Which would be a great piece of folly! With his clumsiness, he'd more than likely ride right over you. And your looks, my dear, are still quite your best weapon.'
It was decided, therefore, and Marianne was left to count the hours and minutes that must elapse before their ride into the forest of Fontainebleau. Yet now, as the fatal moment drew near, her eagerness to be up and doing was tempered by nebulous fears. She knew Napoleon's temper of old. What if he refused to let her speak, sent her away without so much as listening to what she had to say?
Fortunée had taken some chocolate from her pocket and was offering it to Marianne:
'Here. You'll need all your strength and it's none too warm here in the woods. But the luncheon can't go on for ever.'
A little biting wind had got up, sweeping the dead leaves over the surface of the Route Ronde which had been made in the days of Louis XIV to encircle Fontainebleau and a large portion of the forest for the vehicles following the hunt. Clouds raced across a sky more pale grey than blue, just failing to keep up with a dark mass of swallows on their way to find the sun. Marianne's throat tightened as she watched the birds, flying so fast and free, thinking of Jason, a sea bird held basely in a cage until such time as the dull hand of a slavish, so-called justice should strike him down, not letting him see the vast, pure ocean again, even for one day.
A horn blowing deep in the forest dragged her from her gloomy thoughts. She had not hunted all her life without knowing the signs that the hunt was moving off. She jumped to her feet, automatically smoothing out the folds of her riding dress.
'Hurry,' she cried. They're away!'
'Not so fast,' Fortunée said easily. We need to know the direction first.'
The two of them stood for a moment listening, trying to disentangle the confusing echoes of hounds and horns; then Madame Hamelin beamed triumphantly at her friend:
'Excellent! They are going towards the Haute Borne – we shall be able to cut across the line! Come on! I'll show you the way and then drop behind while you go on alone – since His Majesty would rather not see me! Ready?'
With one accord, the two young women sprang into the saddle. Their whips cracked and they were off at a full gallop through the forest, guided by the sound of the horn. At first they followed a cross-ride with heavy cover on either side, bending low over their horses' necks to avoid overhanging branches. The going was rough, over stony ground which climbed steeply from time to time only to descend as steeply into deep valley-bottoms thick with heather and high rusty-golden bracken, but both were excellent horsewomen, Marianne especially, and they were able to avoid the many obstacles in their path without slackening their pace. In the normal way, Marianne would have enjoyed enormously the hectic ride through one of the finest forests in Europe, but today the stakes were too high and the risk of failure too tragic. Galloping in a desperate bid to save Jason Beaufort's life, she knew beyond all doubt that her own life, too, hung on the outcome.
They rode for a long time. The quarry seemed to be doubling endlessly and it was nearly an hour before they caught sight of the flash of white between the bare trees that told them the pack was in full cry. Hounds were running fast, giving tongue as they ran. The horn calls had already told Marianne long before this that the quarry was a boar and with her nerves in their present raw state she was glad of it. Deer-hunting had never given her any pleasure: the grace and beauty of the creatures moved her too deeply.
Fortunée had reined to a halt and now her voice came, borne on the wind:
'There they are – you go on alone…'
Marianne could see the boar now, crashing through the undergrowth like a great, black, bristly cannon ball, the pack hard on his heels. After them came two red-jacketed huntsmen, both riding greys, blowing for all they were worth. The Emperor could not be far away. She dug in her heels and shot forward, burst through a thicket, jumped a fallen tree trunk and a tangled brake – and landed almost plump on top of Napoleon, who was also going full-tilt.
Both mounts reared wildly to avoid a collision but whereas Marianne, perfect mistress of herself and her horse, remained easily in the saddle, the Emperor of the French, caught off balance, parted company with his stirrups and took a flying toss into the leafy mould.
'Ten thousand thunders! What half-witted—'
But Marianne was already on her knees beside him, overcome with horror at what she had done:
'It's me, Sire! Only me! Oh, in heaven's name, forgive me! I did not mean – oh, good God! You are not hurt?'
Napoleon glared at her and, getting quickly to his feet, snatched from Marianne's hands the hat which he had lost in his fall and which she had picked up.
'I was under the impression, Madame,' he said, in such arctic tones that Marianne felt an involuntary shiver down her spine, 'that I had banished you. What are you doing here?'
She gazed up at him imploringly. It had not even occurred to her to get to her feet.
'I had to see you, Sire! I had to speak to you, at all costs—'
'Even the cost of my back, it would seem,' Napoleon said grimly, adding, with a touch of impatience: 'Well, get up, get up! The appearance we present is already sufficiently ridiculous – and we are not alone.'
They were not. Even as he spoke, three men, whom the Emperor must have outdistanced in the chase, came thundering up to them. The first to arrive wore the splendid uniform of a general of hussars, the second was in the green suit of the imperial huntsmen and the third, the only one of the three known to Marianne, was the Mameluke, Rustan. The general had dismounted in an instant.
'Sire!' he exclaimed in anxious tones. 'Are you all right?'
But it was Marianne who answered, smiling engagingly: 'It is I, General, who do not deserve to be. My horse bolted with me and I reached here at the same moment as His Majesty. Our horses reared and I was thrown. The Emperor was good enough to come to my assistance, for which I am most grateful.'
As she uttered this piece of diplomatic prevarication she saw Napoleon's jaw lose something of its set look and the glare go out of his eye.
'It was nothing,' he remarked, carelessly shaking a dead leaf or two from the skirts of his grey redingote. 'Say no more. But enough of this day's sport. I am tired of it. It has been a fruitless day. Call off your huntsmen and your hounds, Monsieur d'Hannecourt. We are going back to the chateau. You, Madame,' he turned to Marianne, 'will follow us. I wish to speak with you. Rustan will take you in by way of the English Garden.'
'But, Sire, I am not alone in the forest. A friend—'
A gleam appeared in Napoleon's blue-grey eyes, not of anger this time but amusement:
'I see. Then you had better collect your friend, Madame, before you come. Some people,' he added, with an inflection which told Marianne that he was under no illusions as to that friend's identity, 'would appear remarkably hard to lose.'