Valentina (19 page)

‘I should say it was almost certain,' the Prince said. ‘I shall be going to Warsaw myself soon, taking this news to some members of the Diet. But I will give you a letter to deliver to Count Potocki. This will give you immunity and advise him to release your sister at once. I'm sure he will comply. In a few months the Czar's armies will be entering Poland in pursuit of Napoleon. He dare not risk offending the Czar's personal emissary. I shall make that plain too.'

‘Thank you,' Alexandra said. ‘With all my heart I thank you. I can never repay you.'

‘I only hope that you are not too late,' he said, ‘to save your sister, Princess, as well as yourself.'

An hour later she was on her way back to the capital with Czartorisky's letter.

There were ten men sitting in the small bare room, with a long table in front of them. Candles burnt on stands down the two walls on either side, they smoked and there was a strong smell of tallow. When Valentina came in, she was guarded by two officers of the Polish militia, one of whom placed a wooden chair for her. She paused for a brief moment to look at the faces of her judges, recognised three of them as friends of her husband, the fourth as Potocki himself, and then, sweeping her skirts aside, she sat down and fixed her eyes on a point above their heads.

Ledsczinki, a retired General with thick white moustaches and bright blue eyes, got up and opened the proceedings. He read from a paper in front of him.

‘Countess Valentina Grunowska, wife of Count Theodore Grunowski, by the authority vested in me by the Diet of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw under the sceptre of our sovereign Grand Duke, His Majesty the King of Saxony, I declare this tribunal convened to hear the case of treason against you. I also pronounce this tribunal empowered to pass judgement upon you, and declare that from this judgement there is no appeal.' He glanced up at her; she was not looking at him. She did not appear to have heard a word.

‘You are on trial for your life, Madame,' he barked. ‘I suggest that you pay attention! You are accused of betraying your mission, acquainting the French authorities with internal Polish secrets, and accepting their official protection against the legal rights of your own Government and the natural authority of your husband. What answer do you make?'

Valentina stood up. She was pale, and composed, and when she spoke she did so in a clear decisive voice that surprised her judges.

‘You say I am accused of treason. Was it treason to refuse to prostitute myself to Marshal Murat? I agreed to spy for my country, not become a whore. This was never explained to me or I would have refused at the first instance. You, Count Potocki, know that my husband never told me this was the real nature of the service you asked of me. You can't deny that!'

‘I am not bound to deny anything,' the Count said coldly. ‘It is you who are on trial here. You seem to have forgotten that. You say you didn't know you were supposed to form a liaison with Murat. You say you refused to become a whore, even though ladies of greater virtue and higher birth than you have compromised their feelings without a thought of self to help their suffering nation! You make a plea of virtue, is that right?'

‘I make a plea of decency,' Valentina said contemptuously. ‘I was tricked, duped into agreeing to something which I thought was shameful at the time. I believed in our French alliance; I didn't know we felt it necessary to spy upon our friends. But I agreed to do it for the reasons you've put forward. Then I heard the truth. When I refused, my husband thrashed me and threatened to have my sister murdered. I pretended to submit. When the rendezvous was arranged for me, I went, gentlemen, with the marks of my husband's persuasion all over my back! You know the rest. Your plan was known all the time; the French Intelligence officer Colonel De Chavel was waiting for me, instead of Murat. I confessed the truth to him, and, fearing my husband's vengeance, accepted his protection and went to my sister at Czartatz. If that is treason'—she gave a withering look at them all—‘then I am truly guilty!'

Potocki rearranged some papers in front of him; the rustle he made broke the sudden silence which had come on them all. He spoke in the same dispassionate voice in which he had first accused her. ‘You refused to become the mistress of Murat to help Poland,' he said. ‘You say you were too virtuous. How was it, then, that you substituted the Marshal with this French policeman? Or did you approve of adultery with him because it would benefit you instead of your country?'

Valentina flushed angrily. ‘I was never Colonel De Chavel's mistress,' she said. ‘Nothing wrong happened between us.'

‘Why did you leave Czartatz?' That was a certain Felix Bodz, an eminent lawyer whom she had met once or twice in Danzig.

She saw the way the question must lead her, and for a second she hesitated. Then the answer came back clearly.

‘I left to find out what had happened to Colonel De chavel.'

‘You knew you might be seized if you came back to Warsaw—you knew your husband was looking for you? But you took this risk just the same. For a man who was not your lover?'

‘Yes.'

‘Why was it so important to you to find out about this French Colonel?'

‘Because I love him, and I was afraid he had been wounded or killed.'

‘You love him,' Bodz repeated, ‘but you were not his mistress?'

‘No,' Valentina said, ‘I was not. I said I loved him, and I did. I do, and I will till the day of my death. I didn't say he loved me.' For the first time her voice shook.

‘For a man who didn't love you and wasn't your lover, he took a great deal of trouble to abduct you, threaten to murder your husband and put you under State protection,' the lawyer remarked. He nodded at his fellow members to show that he had finished with the prisoner.

Potocki smiled. ‘Why did you feel it necessary to confess that we were trying to put a spy in French circles?' he asked. ‘Couldn't you have persuaded this Colonel to release you without compromising your Government and jeopardising the interests of your country?'

‘No,' she said. ‘I told you; he knew all about it. Your whole plan was known; they even guessed I was the one chosen to seduce Murat. I revealed no secrets to him or anyone else.'

‘Why did you allow him to abduct you? Didn't you think it your duty to return to your husband and warn him that the plan had gone wrong?'

‘I was afraid for my sister's life,' Valentina countered. She had not meant to fight them but she found herself doing so, defending herself against men who had already judged her and passed sentence before she even came before them.

‘Not for your own life then?' Bodz looked up at her sharply.

‘No,' Valentina said. ‘I'm not afraid for it now. I'll answer your question, Sir. At this moment I'd rather die than go back to my husband and suffer his cruelties.'

‘It seems to me,' the General said acidly, ‘that you are trying to make your husband the accused, Madame. It would go hard with all of us if wives were to take your disloyalty and infidelity as an example.'

‘It would go hard with Poland if our women were to imitate your self-interest and treachery, Countess,' Potocki said. ‘I think we've heard all that is needed. Have you anything more to say?'

‘Nothing,' Valentina sat down. ‘My conscience is clear. Pass your pre-judged sentence and have done.'

‘Gentlemen—do we need time for deliberation?' Potocki looked round him. One by one the judges shook their heads. ‘We are agreed,' the lawyer said.

‘Your verdict?' Potocki demanded.

‘Guilty.' The word was said nine times, and then he repeated it, his hard eyes fixed on Valentina's face.

‘The sentence is death by hanging. Take the prisoner away!'

‘May I ask why I've been brought here?' De Lamballe had seen angry women before and he was normally quite unimpressed by female tantrums. He had never seen such an embodiment of fury as the Princess Alexandra Suvarov as she faced him in his office. The officer who had arrested her on her return from Cracow had reported that the worst battle was preferable to such an experience. ‘I'd rather face the Austrians at Wagram than take that woman into custody again!' A white-faced, tight-lipped Lieutenant had made that remark only a few minutes before, and Major de Lamballe had outraged him by laughing. But it wasn't such a laughing matter; he could see that for himself. She stood in front of his desk, her black eyes blazing in a face ashen with rage, and she had begun their interview by calling him a string of stable obscenities. He felt quite sure that she would soon begin breaking the furniture. He decided to answer the first coherent question she had asked him.

‘You were brought here on my orders, and for your own protection. Why don't you stop swearing, Princess, and sit down?'

‘You arrested me,' she shouted. ‘You refused to help me, and then you send your soldiers to take hold of me when I arrive at my lodgings! You are a low-born, dirty—'

The Major put his hands over his ears until she stopped. ‘You've been to Cracow and seen Czartorisky, haven't you?' he barked at her suddenly. She answered in the same tone.

‘Yes! What's it to you? He's no friend of France!'

‘He's offered to help you, hasn't he?'

‘He's done more than offer!' She turned on him with a contemptuous sneer. ‘He's written to Potocki, demanding my sister's release. He's threatened the Diet with the Czar's vengeance if anything happens to either of us. So much for French promises! Bah!'

‘They're not as worthless as you suppose,' de Lamballe said. ‘Your sister was given our protection. I tried to explain to you why circumstances made it impossible to interfere, especially once she broke the essential rule of staying quietly on your estate. You might remember that! You might also remember that I advised you to seek out Czartorisky and it was good advice.'

‘Why have you had me detained?' Alexandra demanded. ‘Don't you know every moment is precious now—I must get to my sister at once?'

‘That is the reason,' the Major said. ‘When you take your letter to Potocki you will need a French escort there and back and to take your sister out of the Lubinski Prison safely. One woman, however formidable,' he gave her a sour smile, ‘cannot have the same authority as a half a dozen mere men, and a low-born, dirty illegitimate Major. We will be on our way to Count Potocki in one hour. Until then, Princess, you will be good enough to wait outside, and to refrain from cursing my men, who will wait with you. I can't say goodbye, unfortunately, only
au revoir!
Fanchon! Come here!'

The Lieutenant took his orders, saluted and went out. He had a great respect for his Major; had he been less frightened of him he might have described his feelings as affection, but it was beyond the Lieutenant to fathom his officer's reasons for concerning himself with that frightful Russian termagant outside. She terrified the young man, who liked his women pliable and helpless, and he imagined that the Major must feel the same. Yet he detected something more than duty in the Major's interest. It was odd, but then the Major was an odd man. Fanchon passed the Princess quickly in the corridor and shook his head. A very odd man, the Major. As odd as that very odd Russian woman. He took his place in the small escort that set out for Count Potocki's house with a disapproving air, and avoided looking at either of them.

‘This is very interesting.' Potocki looked up from the letter Alexandra had given him, and glanced from her to Major de Lamballe with an unpleasant smile. ‘I find it remarkable how many influential gentlemen take an interest in your sister's welfare, Princess. She's a very beautiful and talented lady, but to spring from the French into the Russian camp so quickly—quite extraordinary!'

‘You may find the results of seizing her even more extraordinary, Count,' de Lamballe interposed curtly. ‘She is a French protégée; if she is a Russian protégée as well then you should be doubly careful how you treat her. We want an order for her release immediately!'

The Count nodded; the little smile was still on his mouth, and suddenly Alexandra felt sick with fear.

‘I will give you the order,' he said at last. ‘It will be on the record that I did so; Prince Czartorisky will have a copy sent to him. But I must warn you that it will be too late, the Countess was tried by a special tribunal two days ago and sentenced to be hanged as a traitress. The sentence was due to be carried out this morning. What a pity,' he looked from the Major to Alexandra, ‘that you delayed so long. Would you like a chair, Princess Suvarov? You look quite pale—'

‘She's dead,' Alexandra said. She leaned back in the Major's carriage, and wept as she had never done in her life. ‘This morning. They
hanged
her—God in heaven, do you realise that, they hanged my sister—' She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. De Lamballe put his arm round her, and she tried to fight him off. ‘Leave me alone, leave me alone! She's dead, and I did nothing.'

‘You did everything,' he said roughly. ‘Stop struggling, woman, and let yourself be comforted! We'll punish them, don't have any doubts! Here, wipe your eyes.' She took his handkerchief, and let herself be held in his arms, her face pressed against his shoulder.

‘There's nothing you can do to them,' she said at last. ‘Your Emperor is beaten, Czartorisky told me.'

‘I know,' de Lamballe said. ‘I got the news yesterday. We're at the prison now; you wait here. I'll go in and make a claim for her body with this. He tapped the useless order for release the Count had given him. He hadn't been afraid of any consequences to himself. He had given the order; if the girl was already dead he couldn't be blamed, even by Czartorisky. His compatriots might suffer, but he could explain himself out of the situation.

‘Wait here,' the Major said.