Having got rid of General Clarke, Boneparte ignored the Directory's orders and put his own terms to Count Cobenzl. Berthier, meanwhile, was told to get out the maps and, as a precaution, start planning a new campaign, and was given several officers, Roger among them, to assist him.
The Chief-of-Staff was an ugly little man with a head far too big for his body. The splendour of the uniforms he designed for himself could not disguise the ungainliness of his movements, or his enormous red hands with their finger-nails bitten to the quick. His speech was as awkward as his body and he was incapable of showing natural affability. But, under his frizzy hair, he had a quite exceptional brain.
Not that he was an original thinker and, although he did not lack for courage, on his own he would not have made even a passable General. His forte was his extraordinary capacity for memorising detail. He could at any time give the approximate strength, the position, and the name of the commander, of every unit in the Army of Italy. He was a living card-index, carrying every sort of information about fortresses, topography, munitions, supplies, hospitals, transport and the enemy. His value to Boneparte was trebled by two other factors: he positively worshipped the General-in-Chief and was capable of working swiftly, yet carefully, for far longer hours than any other man could possibly have sustained. At critical times in the campaign he had often gone for several days without sleep and appeared no wit the worse for it.
For some days Roger devilled for him, while he worked out with meticulous care the routes which should be taken by infantry, cavalry, artillery and transport of each division, should it become necessary to resume the war. It was on October 11th that, after a morning session with Berthier, Roger met Boneparte in a corridor, and the little Corsican said to him abruptly: 'You seem to have forgotten your suggestion about my spending a night in Venice, to meet an Indian Princess.'
Roger was very far from having forgotten, but he had felt that, although they were now within a day's ride of Venice, it would be tactless to reopen the matter while this new period of intense activity continued, and he said so.
Boneparte grunted. 'I told you to remind me, so you should have. But I've thought of it more than once. It promises to be an interesting experience. Cobenzl will not receive from the Emperor any reply to my latest proposals for some days; so now is the time. How soon can you arrange it?'
'To manage the matter with discretion I'll need two clear days in Venice,' Roger replied. 'If all is going well, I could get a courier back to you here the day after tomorrow; then, if you go down to Mestre on the fourteenth, I'll report to you there that evening with everything in readiness for you to dine with the lady that night.' Good; see to it, then.'
'Mon General, I will leave at once; but there is one thing I must take with me. I need a line of authority from you to Villetard, instructing him to give me any assistance I may require." Why should you need that?'
'There are such matters as suitable accommodation to arrange. Far too many tongues would wag if I brought the Princess to the French Embassy and you dined with her there, At such short notice…'
'You are right. Come with me. Boneparte took Roger into his cabinet, scribbled the line of authority and, as he handed it over, said: 'No scandal, mind. There is no reason why Madame, my wife, should ever know that I have left here except on a short journey to inspect troops, but I am bound to be recognised at Mestre, and I want no rumours running round among the Venetians that I slipped into the city by night in order to seduce an ex-Senator's wife.'
'You may rely on me,' Roger declared firmly, and half an hour later he set off with high hopes that, at long last, his chance had come to be revenged on the villainous Malderini.
Chapter 27
The Trap is Set
In the early hours of the morning Roger reached Mestre. It had been a long and tiring ride, but during it he had matured his plans and, although they entailed great risk to himself, he was now more than ever determined to go through with them.
The French Headquarters at Mestre was in a large villa on the outskirts of the town and, as one of the General-in-Chief's A.D.Cs, he had no difficulty in getting a shake down there for what remained of the night. Next morning he had himself ferried across the three mile wide stretch of shallow water to Venice and by half-past nine was closeted with Villetard at the French Embassy.
When he had confirmed that Malderini was still in Venice and keeping the Embassy secretly informed about the anti-French conspiracy, he asked, 'Is there any prospect of a rising taking place in the near future?'
'No, none,' Villetard replied. 'It could not possibly succeed, and they know that. They will do nothing until after the Peace, and then not for several months; anyway, until the greater part of the Army of Italy has returned to France and the garrison here been reduced to a token force.'
'If the City's independence were restored no garrison would be left here.'
Villetard shrugged. 'If it were, the conspiracy would no longer have an object, and Malderini have lost his chance of achieving his ambitions through having made use of it. But surely that is most unlikely? All the information that has reached me points to the Directory's insisting that the city should be incorporated into the Cisalpine Republic; and that it will be so is the opinion generally accepted by the people of Venice.'
'Then they put no trust in General Boneparte's promises that Venice shall survive as a City State?'
'No. Why should they? He has played ducks and drakes with all the other States of Northern Italy and altered the arrangements for their future from month to month, according to his whim. From the beginning he spoke fair words to the Serene Republic, yet acted towards it as a whip of scorpions. Why should he suddenly change his tune? What has he to gain by preserving a remnant of it? Those are the questions that the Venetians are asking themselves. Go into the cafes and a dozen times a day you will hear the question asked, “Will he make us citizens of his new Cisalpine Republic or, far worse, give us to the Austrians?” '
'Should he do the latter the prospects of the conspirators would be no better after the peace than before it; for 'tis certain that, as the French troops moved out, the Austrians would move in, and they would never reduce their garrison to so low a state that it would be overcome by a popular revolt.'
'True. The Venetians' only real hope of regaining their independence is that, having been made Cisalpines, they will succeed in breaking away after the French have gone.'
'They will be given one other.' Roger suddenly held Villetard's eyes with an intent glance. 'The General-in-Chief is coming here on a brief visit. If they captured him they might extort their own terms as a ransom.'
Villetard sat forward with a jerk. 'What! Surely you are not suggesting…'
This is no suggestion. It is a plan already agreed on. General Boneparte is anxious to exterminate this nest of vipers before the peace terms are declared, so that they will no longer be able to rouse the population in a revolt against them. Having calmly told this thumping lie, Roger produced his note of authority and went on.