Jacob's ladder

Fifty days later, on Friday August 18th 1815, Luis arrived at Montsegur. In his journey he had suffered hardships, difficulties to find food, a fast decrease of the contents of his purse, fear to be discovered, discouragement because many who feigned to help him wanted really to betray him to the French, relief at those who risked their lives and possessions in his defense. During the way he heard all kinds of contradictory news:

“Bonaparte has been defeated in Maastricht by a Prussian and English army.”

“No, it was near Liège.”

“On the contrary, the battle was in Antwerp and Bonaparte won.”

“The emperor is retreating to Paris, defeated.”

“No, he has invaded Prussia.”

“Russia is now allied with the Prussians and the English.”

“No, the Russians are neutral. Czar Alexander is a good friend of Napoleon’s.”

On July the 22nd, Luis had not even remembered that it was his birthday and he was seventeen. He had been too busy avoiding his enemies. Ten days later, in the heart of France, the news suddenly became more sinister, less believable:

“An army of living dead has invaded Austria, coming from the Turkish Empire.”

“Their leader is a mysterious Greek named Nikomakos.”

“They cannot be killed, because they are already dead.”

“That’s a lie! The dead cannot come back.”

“They’ll overcome all of Europe!”

“They’ll conquest France!”

“Impossible! France cannot be defeated.”

At the end of the week, people were even more frightened, while the news became increasingly confuse and dark:

“Napoleon has abdicated and surrendered to the English.”

“That’s not true! Napoleon is always victorious.”

“Russia is at war with Prussia.”

“Czar Alexander has been murdered.”

“Austria has been defeated by Nikomakos.”

“Nikomakos is about to invade Prussia.”

“Nikomakos is about to invade France.”

When Luis arrived in the village of Montsegur, in the Roussillon, he was very different from the boy who had left Salamanca: taller, looking full-grown rather than a boy, his skin tanned, his muscles harder. He had not noticed the changes, which had been a great help, for his description no longer fitted his appearance. On the other hand, he seemed to have been forgotten. In the last days, nobody had heard about him, while at the beginning of his journey it was the opposite. He had once seen a warning with his description, offering a large reward. He no longer had to hide when a patrol went by, for there were no patrols. He had heard nothing about Blatsov, who must have lost his tracks or been dissolved in smoke.

Montsegur was a small village, with a main street continuing the trail up the mountain and ending at the castle, plus several side alleys which ended at awful precipices. At first sight, the village looked quiet and peaceful, but when Luis went in the only inn, everybody turned to look at him with mistrust, all the conversations stopped, and they turned their backs on him and ignored his presence, while the innkeeper served him without a word. As soon as his hunger and thirst were satiated, he left the inn and walked toward the castle.

Night had fallen. The castle of Montsegur, which in 1659 had passed from Spain to France, together with the Roussillon, had been turned into a prison. Napoleon had put some of his political enemies there. Its dark bulk was lighted with sinister shades by the crescent moon, whose face was veiled by thin threads of vapor. At the west the clouds were gathering, heralding a tempest.

The castle door was open. Hiding in the bushes, a hundred paces away, Luis watched the embattlements and the moat and wondered how he would get in. Then a man crossed the bridge and took the way to the village. When he was passing near, his face was lighted by the moon. Luis recognized him and exclaimed:

“Pierre!”

It was really the old soldier, friend, confident and accomplice of Charles, whom he had met for the first time in Salamanca, who five months ago had fallen prisoner to major Gérard. Hearing his name, Pierre stopped and looked around. Luis showed himself. For some time, none spoke. Then a look of understanding lighted the eyes of the French, he threw his arms around the boy’s neck and dragged him to a darker place.

“Luis! You are changed!”

“Am I? Never mind. What are you doing here? Are you free? Where is Charles?”

“Easy! I can’t answer so many questions at the same time. Charles is well. In the last few days, the prison watch has relaxed. I am not important. They consider me your tutor’s servant and let me get out. I was going to the inn, the food is better than what the castle provides, so we use it whenever we have the opportunity. But tell me about you! How did you escape from the man in black? Where is Jacob’s ladder? How did you arrive at Montsegur?”

“Now you are asking too many questions,” laughed Luis. “It’s a long tale. There are more pressing things than the story of my adventures.”

“Right! What do you want to do?”

“I want to get in the castle and see Charles.”

“That won’t be difficult. Half the garrison left three days ago. The world is unsettled, but we haven’t been able to find exactly what is happening: the news is getting every day more absurd and impossible.”

“I’ve heard it too.”

“Anyway, there are few guards. Those who remain are watching at the outside world rather than the prisoners. I’m practically free. I should be able to get you in tonight. Wait here, I’ll get the dinner and we’ll think of something.”

While Pierre went away, Luis hid again among the bushes. He was unsettled: his long journey was coming to the end. He would meet Charles and get rid of the immense responsibility weighing on his shoulders since they were separated in Ciudad Rodrigo.

When Pierre came back, his face showed that he had found a solution to their problem.

“I have a plan,” he said. “In half an hour, the doors will be shut. In two hours, the guards not on watch will be sleeping. Can you see that window at the left, over the moat?”

Luis nodded.

“That room is unoccupied. Come back in two hours. When you see a light at that window, swim across the moat, taking care not to be seen. I’ll help you to get in. You know how to swim, don’t you?”

“Of course!”

“That’s OK, then. See you in two hours.”

Everything happened as planned. At midnight, they met again in the room. Pierre had even brought dry clothes for Luis to change. Taking the candle he had used to give him the signal, he put his finger on his lips, opened the door of the room with great care, and guided him through a maze of corridors and stairs to a room on the third level of the tower.

“We were in the dungeons for some time,” he whispered, “but a month ago we were moved up here, where the air is fresher. Perhaps Bonaparte was reminded of the rank of your tutor. Do you know that he is a nobleman?”

“Yes, Charles is the count of Philippe.”

“I’ve told him that you are coming. He’s waiting. I’ll watch here and warn you if somebody comes.”

“But is the door open?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you escape? You could have got out the same way I got in.”

“Charles has given his word.”

“I see.”

Luis’s legs were shaking when he knocked at the door, opened it and went in. Charles stood up and came to him with stretched arms. It took Luis some seconds to recognize him: he looked older and shorter than he remembered. Suddenly he felt shy and knew that it would be long before they would recover their old comradeship.

“Luis! You have changed!”

He let Charles hug him, got Jacob’s ladder from inside his clothes and offered it to his tutor, who rejected it and said:

“Later! First we must speak. Tell me your adventures.”

It was a long tale which took the whole night, but neither wanted to sleep. Charles did not interrupt, just showed surprise at his courage in the difficult times, amusement at the way in which he had escaped from Brussels, scorn toward Bonaparte, or gloom whenever Blatsov was mentioned. When he finished, the first rays of the sun were coming through the window. Charles moved his head to relax the stiffened muscles of his neck and prepared to speak, but just then there was a knock at the door and Pierre came in. He looked worried.

“I have been walking around the castle. The doors are open, the portcullis raised, the bridge down across the moat. They have all left, there is nobody here.”

Charles walked at the window and looked out; then he turned at Pierre and asked:

“Do you know when this happened?”

“I heard noises about three o’clock.”

“They must have been ordered to leave the castle.”

“What about us? And there are more prisoners.”

“True. We should let them out. With no guards to give them food, they’ll starve.”

“What shall we do?”

“Nothing, I’ve given my word not to leave the castle.”

“But they’ve left! We are free and can go away!”

“You’ve heard me. We’ll let the other prisoners out. If they want, they may go, but we’ll stay here. By the way, that open door worries me. The villagers may try to plunder the castle. Get down, lower the portcullis, raise the bridge and shut the door. Luis will help you.”

The castle was really abandoned. In a corner of the kitchen, Luis found a bunch of keys. With them, they opened the cells in the dungeons and let out thirteen men. Some, who had been there a long time, were in very bad shape. Others in better health helped them to move the sick to the ground floor. Luis explained what had happened: they were free and could leave when they wanted. Suddenly they heard a muffled noise outside. Pierre went to the nearest window to see.

“It’s the people in the village. They are armed with tridents and pitchforks.”

“The soldiers forgot two rifles,” exclaimed one of the prisoners, who had been searching the guardroom. “We’ll be able to defend ourselves.”

“Don’t fire unless there is no other way,” advised Luis. “If we threaten them from the windows, they won’t come nearer. Wait here, I’ll call the count of Philippe.”

Soon Charles had taken the command of the prisoners, now turned into the defenders of the castle. With their simple tools, the villagers did not dare attack men armed with firearms, but they maintained the siege. The castle had become again their jail.

The next day, Sunday August 20th, the situation worsened. A little before noon, the besiegers were reinforced by several men. Although they were not in uniform, they had muskets and showed clearly their training as soldiers. As soon as they took their positions, they started firing at the windows and forced the besieged to find cover, although they did not use their advantage to assault the castle. Apparently, they were waiting for something or somebody.

At three o’clock in the afternoon, Pierre, who had been watching at the top of the tower, came down to inform Charles. Luis was near and heard the news.

“An old friend is coming to visit.”

“Who do you mean?” asked Charles.

“The pale man in black we met in Ciudad Rodrigo,” replied Pierre. Luis shuddered and felt about to swoon. When he recovered, he jumped at the window, ignoring the danger of being hit by a bullet and Charles’s warnings. Then he turned back to his friends, as pale as his implacable persecutor.

“It is him, and he doesn’t come alone,” he said. “He’s brought lots of men and one cannon.”

Charles peeped out to check, gave his rifle to Pierre and asked:

“How is your marksmanship?”

“Excellent, as always.”

“Will you be able to hit him?”

Pierre looked out, raised the rifle, took careful aim and fired.

“You’ve failed,” whispered Charles.

“Impossible!” protested Pierre. “I’ve hit him, but he hasn’t even moved! That man is the devil!”

“I must think,” said Charles, and he went to his room at the tower, leaving Luis and Pierre dumbstruck.

At that point, an explosion thundered and the building shook, struck by the cannon shot.

“Take the sick men to a safe place!” ordered Luis, taking the command.

A second shot cracked the wall, making dust and plaster fall on their heads.

“We can’t stand this,” said Pierre. “We must surrender.”

“Never!” exclaimed Luis. “Better die than fall in his hands!”

But when the third cannon shot struck the castle door, several of the defenders threw themselves in the moat from the windows at the opposite side and fell in the power of the besiegers, while Pierre went to find Charles, and Luis was left alone with the danger.

“My God!” he exclaimed hopeless, his shaky fingers grasping at Jacob’s ladder. “Help me! Do something! I need you!”