Flashman's Waterloo Read online

  She stopped picking at the last fleur de lys near us while she considered the matter seriously. “No,” she said at last. “I think that the allies will underestimate the emperor. Men always fight harder when they are defending their homeland.” She looked sad for a moment as she added, “Men like my Michel would rather die than let the empire fall again. They know only ruin and disgrace await them if the king comes back.”

  We were interrupted by a shout from the end of the room and there was the sound of distant cheering. The emperor had arrived. I tore the fleur de lys I had been working on off the carpet and looked around. They were now nearly all gone with just a handful of people still picking away. Others were moving towards the door and the sound of cheering was getting louder. I helped the princess to her feet and we both joined the throng near the big double doors. Grinning guardsmen were gently pushing the crowd back to make way for the procession behind them. Then the noise redoubled as Bonaparte appeared.

  He was being carried on the shoulders of at least half a dozen men with others reaching up to support him. Lying half on his back he had his arms up in the air as though feeling his way through a dark room. There was a sublime smile on his face and, to my surprise, I saw that his eyes were shut. It was as though he was concentrating on just the sensation of returning to his palace. I was jostled by the crowd as he went past. Dozens more people were coming into the room behind him until you could barely see the carpet that had been so painstakingly ‘de-Bourboned’. Eventually, amidst continued cheering, he was delivered back to his feet on the dais at the end of the room. I saw him look at Louis’ huge throne and grin with amusement. It must have been vastly bigger than the one he had seen there before. The emperor would have looked like a lost child if he had sat in it. A group of army officers started chanting Vive l’Empereur! as they stared at their commander in chief with an almost feverish excitement. Many of the civilians were joining in, but I saw a few at the back with more anxious expressions. Napoleon let the chant continue a few moments and then, smiling again, he held up his hands for silence.

  “Thank you, my friends, thank you,” he called to quieten them. “The people of France have called us back and we have much to do.”

  “Lead us to beat the allies now, before they are ready,” called out a voice from the crowd.

  “No, no,” replied the emperor grinning. “The people want peace; the world wants peace and not war. We will do our best to give it to them.” There were confused glances between many of the army officers present at that, but the emperor continued. “I will write to the allies promising I will respect our 1799 borders and asking them to do the same. Then we will develop a new constitution to give France a stable government and remove the Bourbon injustices. We will bring a new age of science, industry and enlightenment to France. We will make her great again.”

  There was more cheering at that, perhaps slightly muted from the army officers, but when I looked over my shoulder at the sombre group at the back of the room I saw at least half of them clapping enthusiastically. The rest looked either puzzled or downright suspicious as though they could not believe that a leopard could so completely change its spots. I did not blame them, for it seemed to me that the little speech had been entirely for the benefit of the allied rulers, who all doubtless had their spies in the room. If the Princess of Moscow had heard that the allies had declared Bonaparte an outlaw, then he must have heard it too. He must have known that peace with him at the helm of France was unlikely. Perhaps, I wondered, that was why he was also announcing a new constitution; so that he could persuade the allies that he now ruled as part of an elected government.

  Before I could consider this anymore, a glass of champagne was pressed into my hand by a court flunkey who was precariously balancing a tray of them as he pushed through the excited crowd. I caught a glimpse of the emperor stepping down from the dais to greet his new court and the next thing I knew a young woman had literally thrown herself into my arms.

  “Isn’t it wonderful,” she gushed. “I don’t know when I have been this excited.” Most of my champagne had gone down the back of her dress, but she did not seem to notice. I had to put my arm around her to stop her falling, but I did not mind that for she was an absolute beauty.

  “It is a historic day, Miss,” I replied grinning. For you could not help but smile at her. She was nineteen or twenty, I guessed, and bursting with excitement.

  “Do you think the emperor will come this way?” she asked before continuing without giving me a chance to answer. “I have met him once before at my aunt’s wedding but that was years ago. He was very kind but my aunt says that he can be very angry sometimes too.”

  I looked into the crowd about us but there was so much movement it was hard to tell where the emperor was or in which direction he was going. I had no wish to run into him again, but any thought of leaving was dispelled by the shapely stunner at my side. I thought perhaps I could stay a few minutes longer. “He was kind to me when I met him too,” I told her. “But he will have a lot of people to meet today.”

  “I think you are so lucky being a soldier. You must have fought many battles with him and you are a colonel so you must have been brave.” Her bright eyes sparkled with interest as she licked her lips and asked, “What is it like going to war with the emperor?”

  Of course, I had no idea, but I could make something up. I thought she was the romantic type who wanted to hear tales of heroic valour rather than the gritty reality of blood and men screaming in agony, but as I tried to think of a tale to tell she asked, “Have you been wounded?”

  “Yes, I was wounded fighting in Spain. I was shot through the chest, I nearly died.” That at least was true although it had been a French musket ball that had nearly carried me off.

  “You poor man.” She bit her lip, hesitating, and whispered, “Can I see the scar?”

  At another time and place, I would not have hesitated to use that as an excuse to take her to some quiet spot in the palace to show her a lot more than my scar. But then I wavered. I had Louisa back, although I suspected that she might have been unfaithful already. Was I going back to my old ways? By Christ, though, this girl was pretty enough to tempt a cardinal away from his vows… “I can’t show you here,” I gasped hoarsely.

  “Let me feel it through your shirt, then,” she whispered, and she reached up to press her small warm hand to my chest. I felt her fingers delicately trace the scar lines of the star-shaped wound and gazed at the look of rapt concentration on her face as she tried to imagine what she could not see. “You were so brave,” she murmured as I felt desire course through me. I forgot everything else at that moment, felt only her body close to mine, her fingertips exploring the wound that had nearly killed me and her expression of wonder that I could have lived. If I had not been quite so rapt and aroused I might have noticed the disturbance in the crowd about us. But I didn’t, which made what happened then all the more startling.

  “Ah, Colonel Moreau, it is good to see you again.” It took a full second for my mind to adjust. In one moment I was lost in a delicious fantasy, imagining the girl touching me naked and the pair of us indulging in the most licentious debauchery. But in the next moment I realised that the man who had once ruled all of Europe was staring at me with a curious look on his face, while several about him were glaring indignantly at my inattention. Then as I finally remembered that I was Moreau, I snapped myself to attention.

  “I am sorry, sir…” I stammered but the emperor reached up and patted my shoulder.

  “Do not worry, Colonel, even an emperor knows he will be outshined by such beauty.” He turned to the girl. “Mademoiselle, it is only when you are old and grey that I will be able to get men to pay attention to me again.”

  The girl blushed a deep pink and dropped into a deep curtsey. “Pauline Leclerc, Your Majesty, I am so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” replied the emperor genially. “You brighten up my court.” Then he turned back to me. “Now, Moreau, your face s
eemed familiar when we met at Auxerre. Where have I seen you before?”

  If a man’s bowels can summersault in terror then mine did then, for this was exactly the situation that I had been trying to avoid.

  “I…I do not think that we have met before Auxerre, sire,” I said hesitantly feeling my mouth go dry as mounting panic set in. In a moment he would remember and then it would all be over. The emperor frowned now in irritation and started to search that prodigious memory of his. But then rescue came from an unlikely source.

  “The colonel has a terrible chest wound, sire.” Pauline spoke up while keeping her eyes cast down at the emperor’s feet. “He nearly died from it. Perhaps you saw him while he was unconscious as you visited the wounded after a battle?”

  “Yes that is possible, I suppose,” said the emperor smiling at Pauline and raising her chin so that she looked at him.” Relief washed over me for a heartbeat until he frowned again. “No, that was not it. I am sure we have spoken before.”

  He reached up and I thought he was going to pat my shoulder again before I felt a sharp pain in my earlobe as he pinched it hard. I may have winced in pain, although I have been told since that having your ear pinched by the emperor was a valued sign of comradeship. “Observe, gentleman,” he said to those about him, “the man who forgets a meeting with his emperor. I suspect he remembers all too well and I have reprimanded him for something.” He grinned at me and started to move away but called back over his shoulder, “I will recollect our meeting, Colonel, sooner or later.”

  Already others were talking to him and I felt my muscles relax. Unless his memory came back damn fast it would be too late: it was time for me to go. I was turning to leave when the girl I now knew as Pauline grabbed my arm.

  “You did know the emperor and he knew you.” She reached up and kissed me then. I tasted wine on her lips as she pressed her body against me. Now that the danger was past I felt that familiar feeling of recklessness and there were other memorable feelings too. I reached down and squeezed one of her breasts and she gave a small groan of desire.

  “I never did show you that scar, did I?” I whispered.

  “No,” she giggled. “And you are much rougher with my chest than I was with yours.”

  “Let’s find a quiet corner where I can check you over for scars too.”

  Chapter 17

  We moved discreetly to the nearest door and found ourselves back in the anteroom, which must have had at least a dozen people in it. There was an unguarded door leading deeper into the palace and we headed in that direction. We were giggling like schoolchildren when we pushed it open, only to find two generals and a civilian deep in conversation. From the way they glared at us and then quickly stepped apart they were clearly up to no good, but we did not care. Laughing, we ran on to the next room and found it completely bare. I don’t just mean of people but of a single stick of furniture too. That is the trouble with these big palaces; few monarchs can afford to furnish all of the rooms. If I was going to couple with this prime piece I wanted something a bit more comfortable than a marble floor and so we went on to the next door. As she held up her skirts to run, the minx was calling back to me, telling me just how she would like to be taken. By God she was brazen, just the way I like ‘em. By the time we had got to the next room I had so come to the boil that I would have had her on a marble staircase if that was all that was available. But no, it was a room full of huge crates; those still open showing the belongings of the previous occupants of the palace. There were half-packed life-size statues of kings and princes, stacks of portraits, mounds of clothes, shoes, even a rack of wigs. Of particular interest at that moment was a stack of what may have been priceless tapestries, which were piled conveniently to make a mattress.

  We were all over each other in a moment. She undid my belt with practiced ease and was soon working to undo my breeches, while I had one tit out and was munching down on it and hauling up her skirts. She had half torn open my shirt – it appeared that she did actually want to see the scar – when we heard the voice.

  “Pauline, Pauline, I saw you. Come back here this instant. You will not bring disgrace on this family again. Where are you?”

  “It is my Aunt Louise,” gasped the girl pushing me away and tucking her breast back in her dress. “Quick, go, she must not find you here.”

  There may be other men who would stay to help defend a girl’s honour in this situation but I am not one of them. Grabbing my belt with one hand and holding up my breeches with the other, I was off, darting into the maze of packing cases.

  “There you are,” I heard the woman call as she entered the room and found Pauline. It was a strident voice which sounded vaguely familiar. “What is it with you and men in uniform? Where is he, then?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Aunt, I just came to take some air. It was very hot in the room with the emperor.” This was followed by a slapping sound and a shriek of pained surprise from Pauline.

  “Do you take me for a fool?” the older woman scolded. “Did I not just glimpse you with my own eyes running in this direction with some army officer? Now, where is the rogue?” There was the noise of banging wood now. I imagined her throwing open one of the crates of statues to see if I was hiding inside. I looked around for a hiding place and saw another mound of clothes. I quickly and silently burrowed into them.

  “Where is he?” The older woman was almost screeching in fury now and I heard Pauline say, “He’s gone,” between sobs. Another crate slammed open nearby and I twisted feverishly in the confined space to do up my breech buttons and tuck my shirt in so that things would look less incriminating if the aunt did find me.

  There was the sound of more crate lids being thrown to the floor and then a clatter of what must have been a stack of portraits being pushed over. She was getting closer and I held my breath to keep my pile of clothes absolutely still.

  “Where are you, you wretch!” her voice shrieked at me from nearby and I felt something fall on my pile.

  I felt panic rising in me, but then I calmed myself. What could an old woman do? I would push her away and then I would be out of the palace. Then free of Paris and soon all of France. She could threaten what she liked; she would never see me again. There was the smash of some vase she must have dashed to the ground in her fury and then her voice rang out. It seemed to come from directly over my head.

  “I know you are in here, you villain,” she snarled. “So listen carefully. If you come near my niece again you will find yourself transferred to latrine guard duties for the rest of your miserable career. And if you think I am bluffing think on this: my husband is about to be announced as war minister in the emperor’s new government.”

  I breathed a slow sigh of relief as their footsteps receded, which was swiftly followed by an idle curiosity as to who this new minister was. When the room fell silent I counted slowly to a hundred and then started to pull the clothes away. Instead of the ceiling, I found a disapproving face glaring down at me. It was a fallen portrait of an angry French king, now lying across my pile of clothes. I pushed it up against another stack of pictures; judging from his attire, it was probably Louis XIV. I could not help feeling that given his own reputation as a womaniser, his stern glare was a tad hypocritical.

  I had to return the way I had come and peered cautiously around each door before entering the room. When I reached the room with the two army officers and the civilian, who were still deep in their intrigues, one of the soldiers cackled in delight.

  “Ah, here he is, his weapon unfired and his target stolen away.” I gave them a rueful grin as I entered the room, to be met by a steely glare from the civilian and a guffaw from the other officer.

  “Have they gone?” I asked

  “Yes,” said the first officer. “Young Venus has been dragged home in disgrace by the gorgon. But don’t worry, there will be plenty of others. With the emperor back and Paris full of soldiers, few pretty girls will sleep alone tonight.”

  “That on
e will,” muttered the civilian. “She will be locked alone in her room tonight and you would be a brave fool to try and disturb her.”

  “Oh I have no intention of risking any more trouble tonight,” I told them as I went past, and I meant it too.

  I was soon on the street outside the Tuileries and breathed a sigh of relief. I had dallied long enough; it was time to go home. It was already getting dark and too late to set out that night. I thought I would spend one final night at the hotel and then leave first thing in the morning.

  When I reached the building I was relieved to see that the hotel door was now open. The emperor duly welcomed, it was clearly back to business as usual. I still had my key in my pocket and hoped to get up to my room again and slip away in the morning without being seen by anyone. I peered cautiously around the entrance hall. It was deserted apart from another guest reading a paper by the fire. I was halfway across when a voice called out in an urgent hushed tone.

  “Monsieur, Monsieur, quickly, this way.” I looked around; the guest was still reading his news sheet and for a moment I could not see who had spoken. Then I spotted the hotel manager’s face peering around his office door. I had met him before, when we had arrived at the hotel and he had shown his new wealthy English guests to their suite. Since then he had given me the odd curious glance when he had seen me in my French army uniform, but I had brushed away any questions with the explanation that I was now a liaison officer. He had always borne a sad expression, but now he looked like a grief-stricken bloodhound as he gestured urgently for me to join him.

  “Look, if it is about the bill...” I started but he flapped his hand dismissively at the thought.