Having got safely away from the Grand Army, Roger was most averse to returning to it. He had left England the previous December, expecting to be away in Sweden for only a few weeks; but between them Bernadotte and the Czar had already prevented him from going home for ten months. He would have protested and pleaded to be spared this new task; but by decorating him Alexander had skillfully entrapped him and made him feel that he could not decently refuse to be of further service. Stifling his annoyance as best he could, he again kissed the Czar's hand and bowed himself backward out of the room.
Roger would have liked to remain in St. Petersburg for a few days. But he knew that all his younger friends would have gone to the war, and that if he called on the older ones it would soon get to the ears of the Czar that he had disobeyed the Imperial injunction to return to Moscow as speedily as possible; so he reluctantly decided to take the road again the following morning.
He had no means of knowing whether Napoleon would elect to submit his army to semi starvation by remaining in Moscow throughout the winter, or if he would decide on a withdrawal, at least to Smolensk; but he thought the latter more probable, as it would greatly shorten the distance supply trains from Poland would have to cover.
In either case food was going to be extremely short, and even the Emperor's entourage would have to make do on meagre rations. Concerned as ever about his own material well being which more than once had saved his life Roger debated with himself what foodstuff he could buy in St. Petersburg that was easily portable and had a high quality for sustaining vigour. Eventually he decided on marzipan, as it was composed solely of sugar and almonds, a compound hardly to be bettered for stimulating energy.
Leaving his hostelry he walked to the great, covered bazaar. Under the scores of small domes, an incredible variety of things could be bought there: food of all kinds, weapons, clothes, furs, jewels and a multitude of other items. Easing his way through the crowds of haggling people, he found a sweet seller who had a number of large slabs of marzipan from which he cut off pieces according to the quantity required.
Having tasted a sample and judged the quality to be satisfactory, Roger asked the vendor to weigh his whole stock. Much surprised, the man complied. It came to eleven and a quarter kilos. Being of the opinion that during the coming months such a reserve of food might be of more value than pistols, Roger had it in mind to store the marzipan in his pistol holsters, even if he had to sacrifice one pistol and stick the other through his sash; so he enquired the price of the marzipan. The man did a quick calculation on his abacus and gave it him. After several minutes of bargaining, Roger got it reduced by a third, produced the money and had the sweetmeat packed up.
As it was being handed to him he distinctly heard Georgina's voice. That had happened on a few previous occasions when he had been in great danger. Although she was unconscious of it, the strange psychic link between them had enabled her to warn him and inspire him as to how best to escape the peril he was in. Now she was saying:
'Look to your right! Roger, be quick! Look to your right!'
Amazed as he was that in his present harmless occupation any danger should be threatening him, his hand nevertheless flew to his sword hilt, and he swiveled round as she had directed him.
No villainous figure was about to come at him with a knife, or was aiming a pistol at him. The only person at the next stall was a short woman, wearing the clothes of a Russian bourgeoisie and a scarf that partially hid her brown hair. She had just completed the purchase of a pair of soft leather boots. As she handed the money across the stall to pay for them she was only ten feet away from him. He gave a gasp. It seemed incredible, but he could not possibly be mistaken. She was the girl who, before her marriage, had been Lady Mary Ware.
21
A New Problem
Next moment, the girl had taken her parcel and turned away. Roger sprang after her, grabbed her by the arm and cried:
'Mary! What in heaven's name are you doing here?'
Swinging round she stared at him. Her green eyes opened wide and she dropped her parcel. Both of them stooped to pick it up and bumped their heads together. Laughing, they drew back, and Mary exclaimed:
'But you! How come you to be in St. Petersburg?'
He shook his head and put a finger to his lips. 'I'll tell you later. But by what extraordinary coincidences we meet. Last summer in Richmond Park when I did not even know that you were back in England, and now here, of all places.'
'There was nothing extraordinary about our happening upon each other outside your home, but to do so here is, I agree, passing strange.' Suddenly Mary's pretty face became very grave and she went on, 'Oh, Roger, I cannot say how pleased I am to see you. I am in trouble; most grievous trouble.'
He smiled. 'Then you must tell me of it. I doubt not that I can find a remedy and would be most pleased to do so.'
'Not here. We can't talk here, and I'd prefer not to take you to the place where I am dwelling.'
'We'll go to the hostelry where I am lying, then, the Laughing Tartar. 'Tis one of the best in St. Petersburg.'
Roger collected his twenty-four pounds of marzipan, gave his free arm to Mary and they walked to his inn. In those times no hotelier ever dreamed of questioning the use a gentleman made of the chamber he had hired; so Roger took Mary straight upstairs to his bedroom.
Throwing his heavy parcel on the bed, he settled Mary in an elbow chair, poured for them both glasses of rabinowka a liqueur made from blackberries, to which he was partial and said, 'Now, tell me the worst, and we'll see in what way I can help you.'
She gave a heavy sigh. 'Roger, I am in desperate straits. I am marooned here, and cannot get home because I have no money.'
He raised his eyebrows. 'I thought your husband was a rich merchant. But let that wait, and start at the beginning. How in the world do you come to be in Russia at all?'
'I, too, believed Mr. Wicklow to be a rich man,' she replied sadly. 'And, until a few years ago, he was. But, as is the case with many other merchants, Bonaparte's Continental System brought about his ruin. When I married him he was already heavily in debt. It was not until later that I learned that. At the time he had hopes of mending his fortune; but, alas, they did not mature. His principal trade had always been with Russia. This spring his creditors were pressing him so hard that he feared to be made bankrupt and thrown into the Debtors' Prison. He then decided on one last, desperate venture. Secretly, he sold our house and all its contents to a Jew, on condition that the man should not take possession until we were gone from London.
'With the money Mr. Wicklow bought a cargo of such goods as are always easily saleable on the Russian market. He told me nothing of all this, but said I must accompany him on the voyage. As I have ever delighted in sea voyages, and seeing foreign parts, I made no objection. All went well until we entered the Gulf of Finland. There was still much ice about. In the night a storm blew up, and our ship was driven into an iceberg. It was not a large berg, but must have had a big, jagged point below the water. It holed the ship. The sea gushed into the hold and she listed dangerously. The men worked desperately at the pumps; but it was of no avail. Within an hour the ship, with all our cargo, went down.5
'Oh, my dear,' Roger shook his head. 'What evil fortune for you.'