The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon (читаем книги онлайн бесплатно txt) 📗

‘It is good to have the treaty,’ Arthur agreed. ‘But I shall use it only in the last resort.’

‘As you will,’ Castlereagh bowed his head slightly. ‘It would be most gratifying to see reason prevail, rather than veiled threats. I wish you the best of luck, Arthur. I shall be glad to quit this place.’

As Castlereagh had warned him, there were two distinct worlds at the Congress. With the gathering of so many rulers and statesmen and their entourages it was inevitable that grand social occasions should be given such prominence. In between such events the negotiations continued in the suite of rooms in the vast sprawl of the Schцnbrunn palace. The fires were continually built up by servants, and the delegates from the great powers discussed the terms of the European settlement in sweltering heat. The uncomfortable atmosphere was made more taxing still by the Tsar’s worsening hearing difficulties, which obliged the other delegates to strain their voices as they conversed in French, the common tongue of most of the royal courts on the Continent. Arthur’s refusal to enter into any secret meetings and his forthright discussion of the need to reach agreement and the dangers of not doing so quickly won him the respect of the other powers, and the Tsar began to give ground on his demands.

A month after he arrived, the morning dawned clear and crisp and Arthur rose early to dress for a hunt that was to take place in the vast park that stretched out across the landscape to the west of the palace. He breakfasted, and was waiting for his horse to be saddled and brought to the courtyard at the rear of the British delegation’s mansion when there was a sharp rap on the door of his private dining room. Arthur lowered his coffee and called out, ‘Come!’

The door opened and a tall, thin-faced man entered. He wore a thick coat, spattered with mud. It was unbuttoned and revealed the gold braid across the red jacket of a British army officer. He strode across the room, halted in front of the breakfast table and saluted. Arthur frowned.

‘Who the devil are you?’

‘Colonel Sir Neil Campbell, your grace.’

‘Campbell?’ Arthur repeated, then his eyes widened. ‘The resident in Elba?’

Campbell nodded anxiously. ‘Yes, your grace.’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Your grace, I beg to report that Napoleon Bonaparte has escaped from Elba.’

‘Escaped? Where to?’

‘I know not. All I know is that when I returned to the island he was gone.’

‘You left the island?’ Arthur frowned. ‘In God’s name, why?’

‘I - I was invited to Florence for a ball, your grace.’ Campbell’s gaze faltered. ‘I was gone for a matter of days. Nothing seemed amiss when I left. When I returned, Bonaparte had vanished, together with his men. I made for Italy at once and sent a message to London, and now I have come to Vienna to inform the powers at the Congress.’

Arthur glared at the man. The monster of Europe was loose again, thanks to Campbell’s lack of diligence. ‘Stay here. I will question you more closely when I return.’

‘Yes, your grace.’

Arthur rose from his chair and strode towards the door. He walked quickly to find one of his aides waiting in the hall to join Arthur at the hunt. ‘You can send the horses back to the stable.’

‘Your grace?’

‘Another has bolted,’ Arthur responded. ‘Run to the other delegations. Tell them we must meet at the Schцnbrunn at once, on a matter of the gravest urgency. Run, man, as if the very devil himself were at your heels!’

‘Escaped?’ Metternich shook his head, and then laughed. The other delegates in the room joined in, though their laughter was more nervous than humorous, Arthur noted.

‘Where does he think to hide?’ the King of Prussia snorted. ‘He is the most notorious figure in Europe. Who would dare harbour him?’

‘I do not know where his ships were headed, your majesty,’ Arthur replied. ‘But I suspect that he would most likely make for Italy.’

‘Why Italy? Why not France?’

Talleyrand shook his head.‘He would be arrested, or assassinated, the moment he set foot on French soil. I agree, he will go to Italy. He has friends there, and family. Napoleon will go to Murat.’

‘Even though Murat betrayed him last year?’ Metternich queried.

‘I imagine he will ask his brother-in-law for asylum,’ Talleyrand suggested. ‘I know him, I know his strength of will. He is a hard man to refuse. Murat will take him in. Then, when the moment is ripe, Napoleon will seize power. The kingdom of Naples will be his new base of operations.’

It made some sense,Arthur reflected. Murat’s domains would provide him with an army large enough to threaten the rest of the Italian kingdoms.

The Tsar cleared his throat and leaned towards the conference table. ‘The question is, gentlemen, what shall we do about this?’

Talleyrand looked at him with a faintly surprised expression. ‘Do, your majesty? Why, we should organise an army to march on Napoleon and crush him, before he has time to prepare. That much is obvious. Meanwhile, the Congress must continue. The peace settlement is more important than the pursuit of a criminal, however notorious.’

The other delegates nodded their agreement, but Arthur was not so certain. He had witnessed the strong loyalties that Bonaparte still commanded in Paris. If the former Emperor raised his banner in Naples, then many thousands would flock to join him, and those who remained would be sure to unsettle the new regime in France.

Over the next few days messages were sent out from Vienna to mobilise the allied armies. The audacity of Bonaparte’s escape had shocked the delegates, but there was little sense that he posed an immediate danger to Europe, and the powers continued their deliberations as they awaited confirmation of his location. It was four days after Colonel Campbell broke the news of his disappearance that the truth was learned. One of Talleyrand’s aides entered the chamber just before the midday recess and whispered urgently in his ear. Arthur watched as the French Foreign Minister’s face drained of blood. Metternich was speaking, reading verbatim from notes, and had not noticed the little drama.

Talleyrand rapped his knuckles sharply on the table and the Austrian minister looked up irritably, stopping his address mid-sentence.

‘Pardon my interruption,’ said Talleyrand as he looked round the table, ‘but I have just been informed that Napoleon landed on the coast of France six days ago. He has declared that he has come to reclaim his throne and is marching on Paris.’

There was a moment’s stunned silence, then Arthur spoke. ‘Did the local authorities oppose him?’

‘On the contrary. I am told that they went over to him without a shot being fired.’

‘By God, that’s bad news. Others will surely follow. If he gathers them up en route to Paris, I fear he will not be stopped.’ Arthur cleared his throat and spoke as clearly as he could, to ensure that the Tsar caught every word. ‘Your majesties, ministers, delegates, this changes everything. The peace of Europe is once more endangered. Every available soldier must be made ready to fight. If Bonaparte makes good his claim, then he will have the armies of France at his back again. We must face him on the battlefield once more.’

‘We must do more than that,’ Talleyrand interrupted. ‘We must ensure that he never troubles Europe again. I beg to move that before the Congress is suspended to deal with the threat it passes one last resolution. That Napoleon Bonaparte is declared an international outlaw. In the event that he is taken, then the powers gathered here shall jointly decree that he is beyond the protection of the law.’

‘I cannot agree to that,’ Arthur protested. ‘It would be nothing less than an incitement to assassination. Murder. Regardless of the ethical issues, it is a game that two can play. I would urge you to reflect on that.’