In the Name of the King Read online

  They were waiting for us, men, women and children huddled under the wet trees, their hopeful faces lifting as we strolled into their midst. There seemed to be twice as many as when we’d left, and all with a tired and edgy look that sank into outright gloom when they saw we’d returned alone. Even young de Chouy had a listless feel to him, which was nothing like the man I remembered from the old days.

  André got them moving. He sluiced the blood from his face with rainwater, Bernadette dug out his rapier to replace Fauvel’s sword, then he told the crowd casually that our army had already made its way to safety in the villages and we’d better go and join them. I doubt they were really fooled, Abbé, but he strutted about as if he’d won the bloody battle and they smiled at his youthful arrogance and followed him.

  We returned to the road at Noyers-Pont-Maugis, a train of refugees straggling wearily along while peasants watched sullenly from the fields. When we asked if they’d seen the army the most we got were shrugs and sometimes a silent finger pointing south towards the Bar. At least there was no sign of the enemy.

  We picked up a few more stragglers in Bulson, but the army wasn’t there. It wasn’t in Chémery either, but some wounded gendarmes said Châtillon had crossed by the ferry, heading for Rethel. The cavalry could make that by nightfall, but the women and children would be lucky to do it in a whole day. They stood waiting patiently on André’s decision, but were already shifting from one foot to the other with weariness.

  ‘Leave them,’ said Jacques, with the superiority of a man who’s done his marching on horseback. ‘They’re quite safe here, and we can’t afford to wait.’

  There was something new in the way André looked at him, something very different from the devotion I’d got depressingly used to in the past. ‘We can at least get them nearer, Chagny or somewhere like that. But they’ve got to rest first or they won’t move at all.’ He went to one of the pack mules, dug in a bag and drew out a handful of gold coins.

  ‘You look more respectable than me. Will you get them food? Bread, meat if you can get it, wine, anything you can find. We’ll stop a bit to get their strength back.’

  Jacques looked doubtful. ‘It’s the army’s money.’

  ‘We are the fucking army,’ said André, and for the first time I heard an edge of temper in his voice. ‘Please, Jacques, just do it.’

  Jacques bit his lip, stuck out his hand for the money, and went off without a word.

  Bernadette Fournier

  My poor Jacques. It was hard for him, Monsieur, to be told what to do by his little brother. But it was the Chevalier we followed, the Chevalier who had saved us, and what is more it was the Chevalier who was right.

  But yes, I know what I say. To you perhaps it seems foolish, for we were refugees on roads that might be overrun by the enemy, yet those two little hours in the fields made all the difference to who we were and how we felt. We were tired and unhappy, we had friends to mourn and no future to speak of, but the food helped, and the wine more, and the fires and company made it for a little while like our own camp again. Someone brought out a flute, someone else a fiddle, and we had music all over the field.

  To me too these things made a difference. I did not dance as some did, but sat on the grass and waited until Jacques came to sit beside me as I had known he would. I would have liked it better had he kissed me, but he was a gentleman now, he could not do such a thing in front of these others.

  He said ‘It’s all my fault you’ve had such a wretched time, I should never have let you go with André. But it’s all right now, Charlot and I have been discussing what to do with him.’

  I began a daisy chain to occupy my hands. ‘Do with him?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said importantly. ‘We’ve got to get him out of France. But there’s no need for you to go with him now, we’ll find you somewhere safe I can visit.’

  I was watching André. He was tired and in pain, but he was taking the hand of a little domestic from the retinue of M. de Chalancé and leading her into the dance. I said ‘Thank you, Jacques, but I will stay with the Chevalier.’

  He rolled over to look at me, and oh, just the movement of his body on the grass stirred me with memory. I could have torn the boots and breeches off him until he was Jacques again and mine.

  He said ‘But it’s not safe, mignonette. André can’t look after you, he ought never to have let you near the army.’

  I stabbed my nail through the next stem. ‘Was I not able to choose for myself?’

  His eyes clouded with perplexity. ‘Well, he shouldn’t have let you. It’s not just the battle, how could you possibly be safe with all these men?’

  ‘They would not have touched me,’ I said. ‘They had too much respect for my husband.’

  He sat upright with such speed I wished to laugh. ‘But you’re not …’

  I smiled. ‘It was only pretence.’

  ‘But you’ll have had to do stuff. You’ll have had to sleep in the same bed.’

  His mistrust enraged me. I had never betrayed him in my heart, and if I had offered my body that was something he could not have known and should not have imagined. You will call that hypocrisy, but I knew myself guiltless of what he really meant, and said boldly ‘What right have you to question what I do?’

  There was a little silence. I looked up from my chain, and there was my poor Jacques, his face creased with the hurt I had inflicted myself. He said ‘None, I suppose. I wouldn’t blame you if you chose André. Everyone else bloody does, whether he’s right or not. But I love you, Bernadette, doesn’t that give me any right at all?’

  Oh, Monsieur! We were not in bed, we were not so much as touching, and still he said he loved me! I dropped my foolish chain and said ‘I have not given myself to André, nor do I wish to, because it is his brother I love.’

  There was no lie in it, nothing but the light in his eyes and the joy in my heart. So I kissed him, I leaned forward and kissed his mouth and he did not pull away.

  ‘Darling Bernadette,’ he said. ‘Please don’t frighten me like that.’

  I kissed his nose, and over his shoulder saw André advancing with the smith. I said ‘Your brother will need tending, he is to take off his manacle and his wrist will be sore.’

  He stroked my cheek. ‘All right. But you mustn’t think of him more than that, I can’t bear it.’

  ‘But I will stay with him, Jacques,’ I said gently. ‘He needs me, and perhaps I need him too, for he keeps me safe.’

  His hand left my face. ‘He can’t. He means so well, but he’s only a boy.’

  I said ‘He is a man, Jacques, you must let him go his own way.’

  ‘Must I?’ he said, and it might almost have been André himself who spoke, for the voice and narrowing of the eyes were just the same. ‘Why?’

  Stefan Ravel

  No, Abbé, I didn’t fucking dance. We were on the run from an invading army, so I did what soldiers do and kept watch.

  A few battered remnants of our own army went by, but they didn’t know anything and were only too glad to join us. One exhausted arquebusier was leading another with bandaged eyes, and André fetched them on to the field himself. The wounded one sat turning his blinded head from side to side in confusion at the music, then bit into a roasted chicken leg with a kind of incredulous wonder. Poor sod, he probably thought he’d died.

  But next came a pair of well-dressed horsemen, our first sight of officers, and of course they headed straight for the women. I strolled over to make sure they behaved, but the girls seemed happy enough, they were passing the wine and giggling like fools.

  ‘Stay and eat with us, Messieurs,’ said the youngest girl. ‘Everyone is welcome.’

  ‘We’d love to, my pretty one,’ said an officer patronizingly, reaching down to chuck her chin. ‘But the enemy’s moving on Donchery, and we must warn the Maréchal at Rethel.’

  ‘Donchery?’ I said. ‘They’re not coming this way?’

  He flicked his eyes briefly in my direction, but
since I had neither tits nor a title I was clearly invisible. ‘Tell me, child, who’s your officer?’

  The girl laughed. ‘We have none, we’re led by the Chevalier de Roland himself.’

  I should have seen that coming, but it was too late now. The officers were already heads up and scouring the field.

  ‘There, Monsieur,’ said the girl and only went and pointed. ‘There.’

  They couldn’t fucking miss him. André was actually resting his arm on a barrel while the smith struck off that second manacle.

  ‘Thank you, little one,’ said the officer quickly. ‘Perhaps we’ll meet again at Rethel.’

  They turned their beasts and were off in a second, hooves splashing up water from the puddles in an aggressive spray.

  Jacques de Roland

  I’d told him it was stupid, I’d said we shouldn’t stop, but he wouldn’t listen, he never bloody did. When Stefan told us he only said ‘That’s a bugger, I can’t come to Rethel.’

  I said ‘Where will you bloody go then? You can’t sleep rough in this damp.’

  He was stretching and flexing his wrist, and Bernadette was right, it did look painful. ‘We’ll stay with you till Chagny, then strike off for the Saillie in the morning. Can you let us have money for the journey?’

  I suddenly felt like shit. ‘Give me your arm, that needs dressing.’

  Bernadette reached for it. ‘Let me, Chevalier.’

  ‘No,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘Let my brother do it. You and Stefan had better eat something, we’ll have to move in a minute.’

  She dropped a funny little curtsey that made me want to curl up with loving her and walked obediently away.

  I sat the boy down and spat on my handkerchief to clean his wrist. ‘Look at the bloody state of you, I can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?’

  He turned away. ‘Couldn’t be helped.’

  The side of his cheek was all bruised. Someone had hit him, and I didn’t know who. As I lifted his arm I felt the thickness of a bandage under the coat, another wound I hadn’t even known about. I wondered what else there’d been.

  I said ‘You can’t go on like this, André.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I know.’

  ‘All right then,’ I said. ‘You can go to the Saillie till we get organized, but you can’t stay there, it’ll be watched. Charlot and I have agreed we’d better get you to England.’

  ‘Have you?’

  I knew that tone. ‘It’s all right. I’ve been legitimated, the estate’s safe, there’s nothing for you to stay for. The Comte says we should have done this from the start.’ I folded my handkerchief to make a dressing.

  He said ‘I’m not going to England.’

  ‘Well, Rome then,’ I said, tying the handkerchief in place. ‘It doesn’t matter, just somewhere we can keep you hidden.’

  ‘I’ve tried hiding,’ he said. ‘That’s what’s been wrong, don’t you see? I’ve been running and hiding while they’ve done what they like, and we’ve got to start fighting back.’

  He never understood that there are things you can’t fight. ‘It’s not like that, this is politics.’

  ‘Is it?’ he said. ‘You want to tell these women that?’

  I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. ‘But there’s nothing we can do.’

  ‘We killed Soissons, didn’t we?’

  ‘So?’ I said. ‘They’ll find another figurehead, there’s still Orléans and Cinq-Mars. And Spain won’t give up, not now they’ve come this far.’

  ‘They’ll never give up,’ he said. ‘All we ever do is push them back a bit and think we’ve won a victory, but it’s not enough. We’ve got to stop thinking about just surviving, we’ve got to go out and fucking beat them.’

  I thought back to the battlefield, seasoned Imperials smashing into our demoralized troops. ‘It can’t be done. I saw our men facing them, I saw them break and run.’

  ‘They won’t always.’ He put his hands on my shoulders and looked in my face. ‘One day we’re going to stand side by side, you and I, and see the Spaniards run the way they made us run today.’

  He was so young, you’ve got to understand that, he was so bloody young. I said ‘André, stop minding so much. Let them eat each other up, let them bloody have it.’

  ‘Give up?’ he said. He seized my hand and pressed it down on the rough grass. ‘Champagne, feel it? Our neighbours. A few miles west is Picardie and all our friends. South is Paris and our grandmother. How in honour can we possibly –?’

  ‘Oh, stuff your honour!’ I cried. ‘There’s more to life than that!’

  For a dreadful second I thought he was going to hit me. Then his face went sort of blank, he stood very slowly and looked down.

  ‘So I just leave it? They have me hounded out of Paris, they open our whole country to the enemy and I just hide and do nothing?’

  I had to stand too, I’d got to make him see. ‘What else is there to do?’

  His eyes moved over my face, like he was taking in what I looked like. He said ‘If you don’t know, then it’s not a bit of good me telling you,’ and turned to go.

  I wasn’t having it. I grabbed his arm and swung him round to face me, I shouted in his face ‘You’re wrong!’

  He shouted back at me ‘So what?’

  For a second we stared at each other, faces inches apart but the whole world between us, then he wrenched himself free and walked away.

  Stefan Ravel

  The last part of the march was a piece of piss. The cavalry didn’t ride aloofly at the rear any more, they marched like the rest of us and gave the women and children turns on the horses. Charlot even perched a little boy on his shoulders for a ride, the kid waving and saying shrilly ‘I’m a giant, look at me, I’m a giant!’ The pikemen round the war chest started singing marching songs, and soon they were all at it, the whole damn train.

  The only sour note was Jacques, who was stomping along in a black sulk that kept its own space around him. André started in a temper too, but it seemed to cool as we marched, and more than once I saw him look round regretfully at his brother. Oh, yes, Abbé, I’d seen that split coming two years ago now, but I found it rather sad all the same.

  It was falling dark when we reached Chagny. The gate was shut but the flags looked right, so de Chouy trotted up to parley with the men on the wall. I watched warily, which is how one survives in this world, but de Chouy knew the officer personally, Chagny was in French hands and we were home. Women lifted tired children down off the horses, André got the pikemen to transfer the money bags from his own beasts, and the gate began to open.

  The man who rode out was a King’s Musketeer, but he wasn’t alone. A dozen more came filing out after him, while militia cantered up the sides of the column like Beauceron dogs guarding sheep.

  I said ‘Forget tomorrow, André, go now.’

  He took one glance and turned away from the gate. ‘Grimauld,’ he muttered. ‘Bernadette.’

  ‘Come back in an hour,’ I said. ‘I’ll bring them out, now go.’

  He nodded and disappeared into the crowd.

  Jacques was staring at the Musketeers. ‘Rethel, those horsemen said. Rethel …’

  But Chagny was on the way and I should have bloody seen it. News like that wasn’t going to wait for fucking Rethel, they’d have tossed it about in every town they passed.

  There was still time if he ran. It was dark, there were two hundred bodies around him, but the crowd realized he was leaving and hemmed him in as he struggled through, women thanking him, clutching at his arm and holding him up.

  ‘The column will stand!’ called the lead Musketeer. ‘No one is to move!’ Horsemen were crowding us on all sides now, and the air suddenly filled with their shouted orders. ‘Stay where you are! No one to move! Everyone stand still!’

  The civilians milled in sudden panic, but André’s purposeful movement stood out in the chaos and two different horsemen yelled ‘Stop and turn!’ at once. I hoped he could sti
ll bluff it out, the manacle was off, the coat was ordinary Aubéry, but when he turned to face the Musketeers I saw the one little anomaly I’d missed. The unkempt appearance and soldier’s coat were all right, but there on his hip hung the unmistakable length and elegance of a gentleman’s rapier.

  The crowd hushed as the Musketeer picked his way delicately through them and reined up before André. ‘Have I the honour of addressing M. de Roland?’

  There was no way out and the kid knew it. ‘I’m the Chevalier de Roland. What do you want with me?’

  The Musketeer doffed his hat. ‘Monsieur, there is a royal warrant out against you, and I must ask you to accompany me to my officer.’

  De Chouy bobbed angrily in front of him. ‘Oh come on, d’Espernay, this is ridiculous. He saved a great part of the baggage train, the Chevalier should be thanked, not arrested.’

  The Musketeer hardly glanced at him. ‘That’s not for me to judge.’

  ‘Then what about this?’ said Jacques. ‘The Chevalier’s saved part of the caisse from the enemy, he’s bringing it back to the army.’

  He flapped a frantic hand at the pikemen, who obediently trundled the mules and baggage horses forward to be examined. The horsemen murmured, though not as much as our civilians, who were probably cursing themselves silly at missing the opportunity to nick it.

  But the Musketeer was one of those dutiful bastards who won’t fart without his Colonel’s leave. He waved a dismissive hand and said ‘That cannot affect my orders. This is France, Monsieur, you surely don’t imagine justice is to be bought with money?’

  I knew damn well it was, and this was the first time in my whole principled life I’d have welcomed a little venality. But we’d got the real thing here, Abbé, idealism, duty and hypocrisy down to the last thread of his silk hose. He leaned down to André and said ‘Your pardon, but these are my orders.’

  André bowed. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Well, I bloody don’t,’ shouted a voice. It was Becquet’s wife, a great carthorse of a woman, she elbowed her way right in front of André and glared up at the Musketeer. ‘This man saved our lives, so you can turn your arse round where it came from and fuck right off.’