Napoleon fell with such speed on Winzingerode that he was rapidly able to overwhelm him. From 26 March, the French cavalry vigorously fought off the Cossacks. The cannon fire of the mounted artillery, already in place, began to overpower the Russians. Winzingerode was delighted to see that his plan was working, but he was a victim of his own success. There were too many French, too quickly! He wanted to establish a solid position in Saint-Dizier to contain them. It was of the utmost importance that he should hold firm and continue to deceive the Emperor. But the French were already in battle formation - Macdonald, the Imperial Guard
- when Marshal Oudinot’s infantry burst in a torrent from the forest of Val and headed for Saint-Dizier. Winzingerode was rapidly ousted from the town, losing men and artillery, then pushed back again, and battered some more. The dragoons of the Imperial Guard and some Mamelukes galloped after him, charging everything in their way. The French army followed the cavalcade and set upon Winzingerode just as he was gathering his troops back into order; Napoleon thought he had caught the Bohemian army by the scruff of the neck, and so he went at them with all the force he could muster. But he found himself holding nothing but a handful of straw, a scarecrow, a decoy ...
CHAPTER 24
ON 26 March, Margont was again summoned to see Joseph Bonaparte and Talleyrand. As they could no longer meet in the Tuileries, Mathurin Jelent had given him the address of a private house on Tie Saint-Louis.
It was barely ten days since their first meeting, yet the two dignitaries frowned when they saw Margont, wondering if this was really the same man they had sent off on their mission ... Their spy was in old, outdated and not very clean clothes. But he had an affected, haughty air about him. He was holding a riding crop and seemed ready to lash anyone who did not obey his orders speedily enough. He looked like a baron holding a salon in the ruins of his chateau, devastated by the Revolution.
He was so supercilious that Joseph could not help exclaiming, All right, that’s enough of that now!’
Talleyrand, on the other hand, applauded quietly. ‘What a transformation! I would have you work for me any day.’
‘But the question is, would I want to work for you?’ replied Margont.
‘How far have you got, Lieutenant-Colonel?’ demanded Joseph.
The commander of the army and of the National Guard of Paris had spoken in a honeyed tone, but Margont had detected irony. There was poison in the honey. Margont guessed that he would be severely reproached, but he calmly presented a succinct report. When he stated that he was sure the Swords of the King were plotting an armed insurrection, as Charles de Varencourt also claimed, Joseph became agitated. Paradoxically, he seemed much more worried by the few thousand enemies hidden in Paris than the hundreds of thousands of enemies threatening the French army. He was convinced his brother would be able to handle the coalition, whereas the enemy within was his responsibility.
‘But there’s something more worrying,’ added Margont.
Joseph and Talleyrand looked surprised. Margont told them of his suspicion that the Swords of the King were planning something else as well. Talleyrand immediately accepted the hypothesis. Did he know something he was not revealing? Joseph, however, reacted violently, like someone who has had his fill of bad news and only wants to be told reassuring things.
‘What could be worse than a campaign of murders aimed at disrupting the defence of Paris, Lieutenant-Colonel?’
He had pronounced the last word as he might say the word ‘cockroach’.
‘I don’t know, Your Excellency. But believe me, at least two members of the committee, Louis de Leaume and Jean-Baptiste de Cha-tel, will not stop there. They are after something more grandiose, more spectacular.’
Talleyrand seemed lost in thought and was no longer looking at Margont. ‘So we are dealing with a hydra, each of whose heads poses a different threat, with the most prominent heads concealing the most dangerous ... What a diabolical strategy ...’
It was amazing to hear Talleyrand use the word ‘diabolical’, since he himself was nicknamed ‘the limping devil’. Just a coincidence? Or had he said it on purpose, implying that he too was capable of spawning hydras? Margont was reflecting on this possibility when Talleyrand turned to him and smiled, as though he could read his thoughts.
Joseph was in a state. Catastrophes were piling up around him at alarming speed: when would the damned avalanche finally stop? ‘When one is confronted by a hydra, one must cut off all its heads at once,’ he murmured. ‘You have to get them all! Not one must remain! Let’s decapitate the lot and hope that the body, deprived of its heads and paralysed by fear, becomes incapable of action. Lieutenant-Colonel, we’re changing the aim of your mission. For the moment, forget about the murder of Colonel Berle, you—’ ‘Forget about the murder?’ exclaimed Margont.
Joseph replied sharply, ‘Be quiet! Just obey orders.’
‘I can’t—’
‘Imbecile! You tell us the worst is to come? It’s already happened! Count Kevlokine has been assassinated. In Paris, by a member of the Swords of the King. We don’t know exactly when or why. And you, who’re supposed to have infiltrated them, noticed nothing!
We needed that man, do you hear? We could have tried to negotiate with the Tsar! Now that hope is gone!’
Margont’s confusion made Joseph even angrier and he was almost shouting. The Tsar’s agent, you halfwit! He was murdered by the group you were supposed to be keeping an eye on. We found the symbol of the Swords of the King on his body. And he was burnt, just like Colonel Berle! So it’s the same murderer, the one you were meant to unmask. The one who has succeeded in wiping out the only moderate amongst our enemies, the man we hoped to negotiate with! How is it possible that you didn’t know that Count Kevlokine was in touch with the Swords of the King?’ They don’t trust me ...’
‘You’ll have to find a way round that! So, let’s sum up: the only two things you have succeeded in doing are, one, to have some theories about a mysterious and hypothetical third plan, and two, to allow them to print a hundred posters calling on Parisians to revolt against the Emperor.’
Margont wondered if he was about to be carted off to the Temple
prison, or to the one at Vincennes ...
‘I couldn’t do any more! I—’
Joseph silenced him with a gesture. ‘Redeem yourself by allowing us to arrest all the leaders of the group. We waited, thinking you would identify other members and that you would soon discover who the murderer or murderers are. We had also hoped you would have had the opportunity to help us lay our hands on Count Kevlokine. You’ve failed us in all three ways, whilst the war has continued to go against us. We’re going to have to adapt to the new situation—’
He broke off before continuing more calmly, ‘We’re not going to arrest Mademoiselle Catherine de Saltonges at the moment, because her accomplices would soon know about it. So I’ve had your printing press put under surveillance. We haven’t done that so far to minimise the risk of your identity being discovered. But from now on we can’t afford to be so careful. We’ll still take precautions but if the royalists notice our presence, you’re going to have to act as if you didn’t know about it, make something up
That was easy for Joseph to say. He made it sound like child’s play!
‘You will inform us of the time and place of your next meeting,’ he went on.
‘But I never know when they’ll be! One or several members simply turn up at my lodgings—’
Joseph brushed that aside with a sweeping gesture.
‘Don’t bother me with details. Improvise! When the Emperor is in battle, he says to one of his generals, “Take that hill and hold it firmly to protect our right flank.” And the general does it; he doesn’t spend the day saying, “All right, Your Majesty, but with how many soldiers? Who should be in command? What battle formation should I use? Must I just use my infantry or can I use cavalry? When exactly should I take the hill? How long will I need? And why me?” Show some initiative! With all those posters you’ve allowed them to print, they must be starting to take you for a royalist, because, frankly, I’m beginning to wonder myself!’