The state of gloom and terror existing in the great port on the Elbe had been confirmed by several Germans to whom Roger had recently spoken; so when, on October 27th, he came in sight of the city spires, he knew how matters stood there, but he did not intend to enter the city. Some three miles outside the walls he had Dopet turn into a coppice and there the two of them changed from their ill-fitting civilian clothes back into uniform. They then took a side road to Herrenhausen, which lay just outside the city. Near it stood an ancient castle that, until the end of the past century, had been the residence of the sovereigns of Great Britain when they visited their Kingdom of Hanover. It was there that Davout had had his headquarters in 1810 when, before the Russian campaign, he had been commanding in Hamburg and Roger had been sent to him on a mission.
It was soon after midday when the Mess cart, now driven by Dopet and with Roger riding in it, pulled up outside the great gate of the castle. As Roger got out of the cart the sentry came smartly to attention and presented arms. Roger's surmise that Davout had again made the place his headquarters proved correct. The sergeant of the guard sent a man to show Dopet where to stable his cob and cart, and another to escort Roger up to the Marshal Prince's quarters.
Having announced himself as Colonel Comte de Breuc to an adjutant there, Roger learned that Davout had ridden in to the city that morning, but was expected back to dinner. Deciding to put his necessary wait to good advantage, Roger asked to be conducted to the department that dealt with officer prisoners-of-war. He was taken to a room in one of the towers, where a sergeant was shuffling through some papers. Duly impressed by Roger's sash, which proclaimed him to be an A.D.C. to the Emperor, the sergeant hastened to produce a ledger and he was soon able to tell Roger that Charles was a prisoner with some hundred other officers at Schloss Bergedorf, which was some ten miles distant.
Immensely relieved to learn that Charles was still alive, and at having at last run his quarry to earth, Roger went down the spiral stairs, enquired the whereabouts of the anteroom to the Marshal's office, and sat down there to await his return.
The wait was a long one, but at about half-past four Davout, grim-faced as ever, came striding in, his spurs clinking and his riding boots resounding on the parquet.
Roger promptly stood up, came to attention and saluted.
Halting abruptly, the Marshal gave him an unsmiling stare and asked, 'What brings you here, Breuc?'
'I come, Your Highness, from His Imperial Majesty,' Roger replied.
Davout motioned toward his office. 'Come in then, and give me such news as you have of him.'
When Roger had followed him in and been waved to a chair, he said, 'Alas, Your Highness, I can tell you no more than that I last saw the Emperor in Leipzig shortly before disaster overtook our army. But I have a warrant from him that he ordered me to present to you.'
As he spoke, Roger produced the paper he had obtained from Napoleon, ordering that Charles should be handed over to him, and placed it on Davout's desk.
Passing a hand over his bald head, the Marshal read it through quickly, then asked, 'What is the reason for this? Why does the Emperor wish me to transfer the custody of this young Englishmen to you?'
'Because I have a special interest in him, Your Highness. As you may know, my mother was English, and this youth is my nephew. The Emperor graciously agreed that, if possible, I should be allowed to make arrangements for him to be sent back to England, on condition that he did not serve actively again in the war against us.'
Davout frowned. ‘I am most strongly opposed to sentiment being allowed to interfere with war. You should be engaged on your proper duties instead of travelling many miles to secure the release of a relative who is an enemy. However, that is not in my jurisdiction, and the Emperor's command must be obeyed. I will find out where this officer is being held prisoner.'
'While awaiting your return I took the liberty of doing so, Your Highness. He is at Schloss Bergedorf.'
'Schloss Bergedorf!' repeated Davout, with a sudden lift of his grey eyebrows. 'Then he may no longer be there. Some days ago, when the prisoners at the Schloss learned of our defeat at Leipzig, they got out of hand. There was a mutiny. Several were shot, but twenty-seven broke prison and escaped.'
Roger went pale. He swallowed hard, then gasped, 'Do you ... do you know if St. Ermins was among them?'
The Marshal's face took on a vicious look and his voice was almost a snarl. 'No, I do not. But one thing. I do know. I have given orders that any of the escapers who are recaptured are to be hanged.'
'Hanged!' Roger came to his feet. 'But you can't do that! Even if you condemn them to death, which would be unjustifiably severe, they are officers, so they have the right to be shot.'
'Silence!' Davout snapped. 'Who are you that you should dare to tell me my business? To hold down these German curs is the hardest task I have ever had. Officers they may be, but they are Germans and, until recently, our allies. By turning their coats they have become traitors. The penalty of a traitor who is caught is to be hanged, and this will serve as a warning to any of their compatriots who are my prisoners and tempted to make trouble.'
‘I pray to God then that none of those who escaped will be recaptured.'
'Then you'll pray in vain,' the Marshal retorted harshly. 'Nine of them were recaptured this morning. They will be given a few hours to see priests if they wish, and make known their last wishes. But before sunset they will be dancing at the end of ropes.'
18
Fate Strikes Again
For a moment Roger gazed at the Marshal in horror. Several of the prisoners had been shot while trying to escape, and now nine who had been recaptured were to be hanged. He had no doubt that Charles was among the latter.
Fantastic as it seemed, the scene Georgina had witnessed in her crystal had, after all, been a true vision of the future. Even more fantastic, Fate had caused him to travel many hundreds of miles uselessly and delayed him again and again in his search for Charles, yet brought him within a few miles of the place where a rope was to be put round his neck, on the very day he was condemned to die. Clearly this was the work of Providence; there could be no doubt of that.
But suddenly it flashed into Roger's mind that the issue was not yet settled. Unless he could reach Schloss Bergedorf within an hour or so it might be too late. He might find Charles's body, with that of eight others, dangling from the branches of trees. Without another word to Davout, he turned and strode toward the door.
'Halt!' came the sharp command from behind him.
Automatically he obeyed and again faced the Marshal, who glowered at him and said, 'You seem to have forgotten the respect due to a senior officer, Colonel.'
Roger saluted. 'My apologies, Your Highness. The peril in which my nephew stands drove all other thoughts temporarily from my mind.'