Inferno (44 page)

Would he rescue the King of France? Kydd looked directly at Bernadotte; the man's face gave no indication of deceit.
He drew himself up. ‘On reflection I think it possible, yes, sir.'

‘Not overlooking the other laudable end that the people in Paris may be spared yet another gaudy trial. Then, sir, we may proceed with the details. Moreau is put out that I have assumed personal command, but it is my decision, given your importance. Your escort will be my men whom I trust completely, as they do myself. They will be told that your “escape” – to be blamed on the Stralsund Patriots – is for a secret purpose, such as the purveying of false information at a high level to the British. In the nature of things your capture has not been announced. The sudden triumphant production of your person in the capital for all to see is the usual form. Therefore your disappearance will be quietly forgotten. On the larger issue I will not be implicated, and matters will be handled with a pleasing discretion.

‘Sir Thomas, it will be expected that you travel with me in my coach, the others to follow in due course. The rest you may leave to me.'

Kydd tried to find words.

Bernadotte gave a dry smile. ‘At this point I should ask you to so swear, but that would be a trifle pointless, wouldn't you agree? Once out of sight you will be free to do as you desire. In our short acquaintance, however, I fancy my trust is not misplaced. Shall we go now, sir?'

A
ll the panoply and magnificence of a marshal of France was on display in the courtyard. Plumes, frogging, bear-skins; sword hilts, halberds, gleaming muskets; officers haughty with pomp; troopers rigid with pride. Bernadotte led the way to a plain but deeply polished carriage, chatting amiably with Kydd. Inside, the lavish appointments were of tasselled red silk and pearl satin, the seats of enfolding softness. The entourage moved off with fanfare and circumstance, through the gates and into the town. Gaping onlookers were held back as the cavalcade swept by and out into the countryside, on the road west to Paris.

As the sun sank lower it became necessary to seek encampment for the night and the village of Löbnitz found itself host to a squadron of the imperial guard. In the ferment and disorder of such an arrival no one noticed a small group make its way in the gathering dusk the mile and a half northward to the water's edge where a fishing boat was drawn up.

‘One of your ships was sighted off this coast only this morning and I've no doubt if you floated about a trifle you
would soon be spotted,' Bernadotte murmured. In a brisker tone he ordered, ‘Bring the other two here.'

A stunned Dillon and Halgren were bundled aboard the boat.

‘I fear I must make my farewell here, Sir Thomas. That I owe the honour of France to the actions of an Englishman is something we shall both remember.'

‘You have my word upon it, sir,' Kydd said.

Bernadotte gave a tiny smile and turned to his aide-de-camp who on cue gave him an object wrapped in a cloth. ‘Then if we wish to part on terms of amity it were better I returned to you your property.'

It was Kydd's precious sword, and he took it with a short bow. ‘I will never forget your nobility of character, sir.'

Bernadotte contemplated him intently for a space, then nodded, turned back for his coach – and they were left to their freedom.

The sea was calm, the winds light, and under a single lugsail they stole out into the gunmetal expanse of the Baltic, seeing the ruler-flat coast diminish into insignificance. At the tiller was a hoary old fisherman who saw everything and noticed nothing, his rheumy gaze unwavering on the open sea.

Halgren seemed lost in a world of his own and Dillon's eyes were fixed on a pair of seagulls swooping and soaring in their wake. It didn't seem to be the time to talk about what had happened, how they had been spared and why.

After an hour the horizon dissolved into pale grey, which hardened: a rain curtain. Yet another in this essentially inland sea. It advanced, then enveloped them in light, insistent rain. Kydd didn't care – after a prison cell, its cold purity was almost a sensual experience.

It brought problems, though, the first of which was that they could not see beyond thirty yards and any cruising British ship would miss them entirely. The other was that the wind had dropped almost to nothing and their progress with it. They were at the mercy of offshore currents, and if those trended inshore they would find themselves taken back whence they'd come.

As far as Kydd could see there were no oars, only a scull. The fisherman seemed unconcerned, keeping way on with the bows to seaward but if—

‘There!' Halgren's hoarse shout made them all start. Over to the right – a thickening shadow slowly moving. It could be anything and Kydd prayed it to be that which his soul had cried for these past two days …

A chance wind flaw and the veil was momentarily drawn back to reveal His Majesty's frigate
Tyger
.

In an instant Halgren was on his feet. The boat swayed alarmingly as he delivered a mighty bellow through cupped hands: ‘
Tyger!
' The age-old hail indicated that the boat contained the august person of the captain himself.

Kydd motioned for quiet – and faintly in the stillness they heard the bull roar of Bray, rousing the watch-on-deck to throw off lines and heave to. Then more bellowing to muster a side-party.

B
ray was visibly disturbed when they came aboard. ‘Sir, it's been two days and more! We were right fretful, which is to say knowing you're ashore in these heathen parts, and no orders left.'

‘Hmm. We were but detained a mite longer than planned,' Kydd said, flashing a warning glance at Dillon. ‘But we came away with an intelligence of the utmost importance.'

‘Sir.'

Kydd thought quickly. They were going to fulfil their mission, nothing was more certain, but that would mean leaving his allotted station off Rügen with
Lapwing
, a serious disobedience of Keats's orders: the commodore would assume he was still there when it came to calling for reinforcements in some important engagement.

His judgement was that, in this case, his move was justified, but should he first find
Lapwing
and tell her? There was no knowing how long that would take and time was running out.

No. It had to be now.

‘Mr Bray. Shake out all sail – take us out to seaward and catch a wind, then course nor'-east. I'll tell you more later.'

‘Aye aye, sir.'

‘Oh, and stand down Halgren. He's to get an immediate double tot and off all duties for twenty-four hours.'

What his shipmates would make of his story, if ever they could get it out of the taciturn Scandinavian, would be put down to a fine sailor's yarn.

Kydd insisted Dillon come below for a restorative, and while Tysoe fussed at the state of his uniform, over a hastily conjured meal of pork pie and pickles, they shared a fine claret and let the tensions of the last days ease.

As he reached for a second glass he was taken with a breaking wave of tiredness that threatened to fell him. He looked up, saw Dillon's red-eyed exhaustion, too, and grinned. ‘In this wise we're neither any use to His Majesty. Shall we get our heads down?'

The last thing he was conscious of as he slipped into a deep sleep was the gracious sway to starboard as
Tyger
took up to a strengthening north-westerly.

He'd let the world take care of itself until he'd claimed his rest.

‘A
fine nor'-westerly, Mr Brice,' Kydd said briskly, sniffing appreciatively, as the ship ploughed steadily up the Baltic.

‘Pleased to see you on deck, sir.'

‘Thank you. Do pass the word for all officers in my cabin in twenty minutes, will you?'

They assembled promptly and Kydd didn't waste time. ‘You'll want to know why I've taken us off station.' He fought to hold off a boyish grin at the thought of the effect of his next words. ‘So I'll tell you. We're off to rescue the King of France.'

There were sideways glances and troubled frowns.