CHAPTER TWO
The Hussar reveals and is astonished
There then remained the young soldier Etienne, standing with his toes on the brink of the wall. Alone again, he cast his gaze through the darkness of the night and took stock of his solitude. He was rid of the stranger who would surely not be coming back from that leap. No more would he be urged to desert his post and to go off on some mysterious lark. No more would he be seduced toward adventure. No, he thought, he was free now to get on with his night and let it pass as uneventfully and as quietly as possible. He was free from temptation. He was free to turn out the lamp and roll over.
There rose up though, from those 10 meters below, such a rich and mirthful laugh that Etienne’s defences were once again besieged by the Hussar. That honest joy, that sense of pure fun, had its way of affecting the boy soldier that Etienne could not understand. That was when he felt something within his torso. Without beckoning it in the least, a hearty chuckle emerged from himself to warm his night. He shook his head and released that laugh to run free and play with the remnants of the Hussar’s song beneath him. He knew then that his resistance was truly overcome. Gripping his musket firmly, he leaned forward and took another look at the fall that was a pace away. “Sauve qui peut!” he murmured, still flavouring it with a laugh and threw himself forward into space.
The fall was furiously fast. There was no time for anything but flashes of regret and desperate attempts to slow his plummet. Instantly, Etienne's senses were overwhelmed by pain when he impacted the ground. It passed immediately though and he knew he was not dead. He had survived but still the world seemed to be spinning madly. Was he still falling? Could he yet die? The reader knows, certainly, but the distressed Etienne was less certain.
One hand braced Etienne's shoulder and another clasped his own hand and helped to haul the fusilier to his feet. There was Henri Darlon, laughing yet again, and Etienne's world stopped spinning and his gaze settled onto the warm face of this smiling hussar.
"You are not broken?" queried the supporter. It worried Etienne that this was a question. Now he had to find an answer and began to take stock of his body. He was certainly sore and his costume was certainly disordered but a successful bending of the knees and waist confirmed that his young body was indeed not broken. Oh but it remained sore for a few minutes more. "Walk with me then." urged Henri, "and it will set you to rights."
It was only when Henri passed his companion's shako and musket back to him that Etienne realized that he had discarded the firearm in the fall. Briefly it passed through his mind that Henri could have kept it to make real the story and actually capture him. Relief washed over him though as he took possession of the weapon. He could trust this man.
The musket made a fine crutch as the pair started off through the night. Henri made a point of remaining slightly behind his companion to allow the limping fusilier to set the pace. Of course, for these two soldiers, there was never any question of anything but the standard marching pace. They made their way west along the seaside road.
"Tell me of one of your adventures, Captain? Take my attention from the ankle?"
"Tis an excellent notion," responded the Hussar "but I refuse my flank. If you wish a cannonade to hold the attention of the wing, you shall be obliged to draw your own batteries up. Tell me one of your tales."
"Etienne needed time to load. "My tales would not interest you. I am but a novice soldier."
"Au contraire. I've spent years hearing stories from countless veterans retold countless times. Do you appreciate how many times I've heard my own recountings? What I don't get to hear is anything new."
Etienne's batteries took up a cautious position. "I'm sure that nothing that has happened to me is new to you."
"Pish!" scoffed Henri, "Besides which, the point of this exercise is to distract you, not to amuse me. Tell your tale."
Round about that time it occurred to Etienne that he may find himself missing his backpack in time but for now its absence was welcomed. "I have been in but one battle which we call The Mincio River". It was fairly terrifying but I believe I did my duty."
"No no!" interjected Henri, "Begin by recounting your march. They whyfors and the weather. A battle without details of the march is just loud noises and lost comrades."
Adjusting his grip on the crutch, the fusilier rolled his eyes skyward and sought to recall details for the story.
"We were marching across Northern Italy under Viceroy Eugene, through the Po Valley. The air was crisp but not cold. This was last Winter. It was our first long march and we had been planning to cross Italy, link with Murat's Neapolitans, and then we'd march on Vienna to throw panic into the allied armies that were fighting Napoleon in France." Etienne grinned. " I approved of the plan and looked forward to seeing the Austrian Capital. I hear it is splendid."
Henri gave a good spirited chuckle at that, "I would recommend it as the finest capital to conquer in all of Europe. Rome is pleasant but yes, one's first conquest should be the Viennese."
"Plans changed though, of course, when we received word that the traitor Marshal Murat had deserted the Emperor and his Kingdom of Naples had gone over the Austrians. The coward!
Henri grew serious suddenly and his rich tones became intimidating. "Say what you will of Murat's honour, but he is no coward. Whatever his reasons for the defection, know that it was not done out of fear."
The fusilier's response was in-turn defiant "Napoleon gave him one of his sisters for a bride, Naples for a Kingdom, and a Marshal's baton. He gave him glory and wealth."
"Marshal Murat earned and deserved everything he was awarded. Did you not meet him in battle that day and see the measure of him?"
"No. The Viceroy had us hasten to the east…several forced marches… to try defeating the Austrians before Murat could join him." Etienne continued, "We met them at the Mincio River where Eugene tried a clever ploy to bait the Austrians into attacking before Murat arrived. We emptied our center and went wide. My regiment, in General Fressinet's Division, was sent to the walled town of Peschiera. It was a charming little fortress and I hope the townsfolk weren't too set back. We were to wait in Peschiera for the appointed time to close the trap. Sergeant Gembloux said that Eugene was trying the Cannae trick and then told us about Rome and Carthage while we had broth breakfast. He is always going on about Old Romans and Greeks. It kept us from worrying about the battle too."
To which Henri replied, "And how are we faring about your worrying ankle?"
"It seems, said Etienne, "that it is well recovered already. We have tricked it into healing." Caught up in his reflections, the fusilier continued while he shouldered his arms. "I recall the sounds of the drums being distinctly clear and exciting that morning. Everything seemed sharper.
"Indeed" responded the Hussar, "I still have vivid and clear memories of my first battle and even through the chaos of Rivoli ridge I can see my former comrade's faces with eerie clarity.
Etienne said "I had imagined it to be more of a blur, more a wave of confusion."
Henri nodded, "I wager that the face of the first enemy you saw will be engraved in your memory forever."
"It was Austrians." Continued the young soldier, "they had begun to mass south of us. Tens of thousands of them and when they began to roll light guns up to take aim at our positions, you can imagine my anxiety. The fortress is on an island in the River so we were secure but being secure was not the plan. They had fallen for the Viceroy's trap and had crossed the River so we began to debauch and form up on the south bank. The confusion was terrible but we all knew our jobs and it was a great comfort to see that the training had been good and that we were capable of manoeuvring still. The first cannonballs began to smash through the files about then. Claude lost both his legs and went down screaming." Etienne paused a moment to reflect.
The veteran closed his eyes for the same duration, falling silent to exorcise some ghosts of his own even as he marched on confidently blind.
When the fusilier continued, he said "I don't recall what exactly happened that morning. We marched forward and back. Our officers were constantly bellowing orders and encouragements. A good many volleys were fired. I misloaded once or twice but I think I did well. I was proud of the entire company. At one point, an Austrian regiment bore down on us with bayonets but we held firm and fired three volleys into them until they withdrew. That was intimidating and exhilarating. Many of us were wounded or killed and a good many Austrians also."
"You were not slain?" was the jest.
"I heard the whistle of rounds and swear that once I felt a ball rush past my temple but I was not hit. After what must have been a couple hours of this we heard French cannon from the South. The Viceroy Eugene was closing the trap. The sound of those guns brought up an immense cheer and we were rejuvenated. We fixed bayonets ourselves and pressed in on the enemy though we never got to grips. Our regiment passed over some wounded but we spared them and took prisoners. We drove the foe back to the bridges and there we stopped. There seemed to be a lot of fight left in them and oh, so very many still."
At that point on the westward journey, the pair could make out a strong campfire ahead within an orchard on the shore side of the road. Dawn was slowly beginning to suggest itself at their backs and with the dim light they could make out a collection of soldiers taking advantage of the bonfire. As Henri was leading his new companion off the trail and directly toward this, there seemed little point for Etienne to ask what the scene meant. As the pair neared, Etienne was struck by a specific figure standing with arms across his chest facing the flames. The stark silhouette struck him as being so very familiar, especially with that overcoat. He then realized that he'd seen it on every coin, medal and in countless engravings throughout France. Napoleon!
His exclamation was audible and Henri pressed a hand to his shoulder. "Aye. Be at ease."
"Here?" asked Etienne, not at ease as he could have been. "In France?"
"He landed a few short hours ago and means to make for Paris. The Eagle has returned." Activity could be seen at the water's edge. Men were occupied unloading provisions from a pair of longboats. Just off shore was a large sloop. Ideas raced through Etienne's mind. Should he run back to Antibes to report this? Fleetingly, he thought about his musket. Where did his duty lie? If he was back, was he Emperor again? What of the King? Over it all though was a sense of being in the presence of an important moment in time and he was near overwhelmed by the desire to just be a part of it and to see this famous person for himself.
Entering the olive orchard, the young soldier though was instantly tempted to flee. Not only was he approaching the most powerful man in Europe, but more worrisome to this Private was the entourage of officers, generals, Marshals, Princes, and Statesmen that were accompanying him. Even more terrifying still were the senior sergeants of the Imperial Guard who eyed him as though they were ready to tear his arms off if he but erred in showing the least lack of respect and protocol. Scattered about the bivouac, sleeping and preparing breakfast, were several hundred of France's most veteran and distinguished soldiers.
Before the pair had gotten close those about the campfire turned to discern them. Napoleon raised a hand and spoke in an assured and warm voice. "This must indeed be a momentous day! Captain Darlon is walking beside an infantryman. I'd seen such a thing once before in Russia. At least this time he has not lost his boots to Cossacks!"
This did not flap Henri in the least and he answered back to his Emperor in cordial spirits. "T'was a fair exchange, My Emperor. He kept my boots, I kept my life, and he lost two friends in the fray. Had I lost any toes in the march I'd have been considerably more incensed."
Some resplendently bedecked companion at the fire retorted, "It would certainly have motivated us all to march on Moscow again to avenge you, Captain." And the crowd murmured its jovial approval.
Continuing to amaze Etienne, Henri strode right up to the Napoleon, offered a smart salute, and began to give a report. He told of the capture of Captain Lamouret and his grenadiers. Immediately some officers volunteered to take troops to rescue them.
"We can do nothing for them." answered Napoleon, "Time is too precious. The only way to correct the bad impression created by this affair is to travel more quickly than the news of it. Why, if half my force were prisoners at Antibes I should leave them there. If they were all there I should go on alone."
"Also," continued the Hussar, "I have brought young Private Etienne Neville from the Antibes Garrison should you wish to question him."
Etienne stammered and stumbled indecisively with the idea of removing his headdress. He doffed it humbly, "Sir, Sire, Your Majesty…" but Napoleon cut him off with a reassuring gesture.
"Truth to tell, my correct title will be something that every Frenchman will have to individually decide over the coming days. It should prove extremely interesting." While he listened, Etienne was struck by how the man's manner could be at once so soft and also so energetic and powerful, even in trivial utterances. His face was similar for it seemed so soft and boyish and yet in a second it could muster up terrible energy. His stature was remarkably unheroic but a turn of his head would create of profile that could bend destiny's knee. The former and future Emperor did have a question for the fusilier. "Colonel Marechal still commands the 102nd?"
"No Sire. He was awarded promotion to the Brigade. Colonel Susbielle has the Regiment. He is on leave at Sainte Margeurite."
Napoleon nodded and waved a hand while remarking , "Him I do not yet know." And then turned toward Henri to change the subject. "Captain Darlon, are you still on familiar terms with Madame the Countess de Montesquiou?"
"Yes, Sire," was the reply with neither pause nor embarrassment, "She is in Vienna and is still governess to your son, the King of Rome."
"Then I shall ask that you undertake a mission for me that perhaps only you could succeed at. The Empress Marie-Louise and our Son are not, I believe, free to choose their fortunes and to rejoin me. The imprisonment may be physical but it may also only be familial. Her father would insist that The Empress and I remain separated. We are unable to even exchange letters."
"The safety and happiness of the Empress weighs heavily upon me for I do love her dearly, but events in France, and Europe, of course, must overturn my heart's desire. If I could but take a coach and ride through storms to be at her side I would. I must look though for a worthy man to bring her and my son to Paris and therefore, Captain, I look to you."
The Hussar was staggered. Here was his Emperor looking into his face with solemnity, earnestness, and pain. This was the man who had shaped the destiny and fortunes of millions of Frenchmen, who had forged Europe into something new and grand. Here he was asking Henri to help him as though he was a dearest friend. Henri's eyes glittered with pride as he opted to kneel before his Emperor and hero. If Etienne was witness to the trembling of the Hussar Captain's hands, he never spoke of it.
"Of course, Your Majesty, I shall do all that I can."
"Take these letters (one for each), hand deliver them and await a response. I require to know her true feelings and trepidations. More though, much more, I beseech you to find a means and manner to bring them to me. Persuade her to come away with you but ensure that if it should become an escape no harm or indignity comes to them."
Henri clasps his hands to his breast and did not wipe the tear that was building in his eye. His voice faltered slightly as he spoke atremble. "Sire, I swear that I shall undertake this task with all the courage, honour and resourcefulness that France, your Majesty, and the Empress deserve. You shall have your wife and son at your side in Paris."
Napoleon, touched by this demonstration of affection, took a single step forward, placed a gentle hand upon the Hussar's blue-clad shoulder, and beckoned him to his feet. "Through all the events of the coming weeks, Captain Darlon, my thoughts will be on you." He then proffered up a trio of envelopes and small purse. "There is also a letter for Emperor Francis since you'll be in the area. Maybe we can avoid war. Be fleet and wary, of course, the borders will be closed within hours. Frenchmen will not be welcome in Austria now."
Etienne had stood quietly, humbly away during this scene but saw all that transpired. He was elevated by the impact of what he was witnessing. His own soul was the more ennobled. His own role in the world somehow had to matter now.