Jacob's ladder

His mind was empty. He couldn’t understand, he didn’t dare to move. The pistol was cocked, ready to fire, and Gonzalo’s finger seemed ready to press the trigger. His eyes did not show the least hesitation. The coach jolted on the forest road, while the driver did not seem interested on the drama being acted inside.

“Where are we going?” asked Luis in a very low voice, through dried lips which seemed to have stuck to one another.

“To Waterloo,” answered Gonzalo without dropping the weapon.

“What are you going to do with me? What will happen in Waterloo?”

“Somebody is waiting for you.”

“Blatsov?”

Gonzalo didn’t answer.

“Why are you doing this? Lady Borland would pay you more.”

Gonzalo’s lips were pursed in a bitter grimace.

“It’s not the money.”

“But you are Wellington’s man! Why are you selling me to his enemies?”

“A spy works for everybody. Both sides must believe that he is their man.”

“Whom do you serve?”

Gonzalo’s smile was belied by his diamond-hard eyes.

“Nikomakos.”

Luis shuddered. Nikomakos again, the mysterious and sinister unknown who was trying to capture him! Whatever for? He did not dare to think about it. He knew that Waterloo was three hours from Brussels, at the other side of the forest of Soignes. He had only a couple of hours of freedom left, for his current situation seemed like freedom, compared to what he could expect after falling in Blatsov’s hands.

Suddenly they heard a crack and the coach jolted violently. Something heavy fell on the ceiling, while the horses galloped wildly. Gonzalo peered out of the window, cursed, drew his pistol out and fired. There was a grunt, shouts and another shot. Gonzalo fell inside the coach, his left hand against his right side, soaking in a dark liquid which looked almost black in the dusk of the forest and the darkness inside the vehicle. Luis was huddled in a corner, so frightened that he dared not move a muscle. The horses ran away, threatening to crush the coach against the trees bordering the road.

Then Luis saw, through the nearest window, a rider galloping. He was marvelous, a true acrobat. Reaching one side of the vehicle, he grasped both hands in the window posts, pushed with his legs on his saddle and launched himself to the top of the coach, entangling his feet with the roof rail. After hanging upside down for a few seconds, he took impulse again and fell on the roof with a dull blow.

Forgetting the danger of being shot, Luis leaned out and looked up, but couldn’t see anything, for the rail cut his sight. Looking back, he saw several riders behind the coach, recognized their boss and saw that he was just passing from one kidnapper to another. In this case, however, he knew what the newcomers wanted and could do something about it. He put his right hand inside his clothes and extracted Jacob’s ladder which, as always, hanged from his neck by a string. He broke the string with a sharp wrench, took the amulet, gazed at it for a moment, put it in his mouth and, with an effort, swallowed it. Then he threw the broken string out of the window and waited.

In the meantime, the man above had crawled to the front of the box, took the reins, which had been trailing on the ground, and controlled the horses. One minute later, the coach stopped. Half a dozen riders circled it with their weapons ready, but they were not using them to threaten Luis. One of them approached the vehicle, touched his hat and said in French:

“So it’s you! I thought it would be! That’s why you were staring at me in the gambling house. I’ll introduce myself, although I don’t believe you need it. I’m major Gérard.”

“I am Luis García. What do you want with me?”

“You know very well. Give it to me!”

He held his hand, but Luis didn’t move and Gérard’s face darkened.

“This is going to get disagreeable,” he added.

While they were exchanging those words, another two men had climbed the coach and forced Gonzalo down. The man was wounded and could not offer resistance. When he was left on the ground, Gérard looked at him for an instant, then drew his pistol out, pointed at Gonzalo’s head and pulled the trigger. Luis shouted:

“He was helpless!”

“I’ve been merciful,” answered Gérard, blowing off the smoke at his pistol’s mouth. “He was mortally wounded. In any case, he was going to die real soon: there’s a death penalty on his head. During the Spanish war, he was Wellington’s spy. The French army has been trying to find him. This has just been a delayed execution.”

“But he is Blatsov’s man, and Blatsov is your friend!”

“Who says so?”

“I heard you talking in the inn near Ciudad Rodrigo.”

“Then you should know that Blatsov and I were only temporary allies. I was after your tutor and the amulet, he was after you. We were complementary, thus joined our forces, but when we discovered that we were actually after the same person, automatically became rivals.

“Then why didn’t you follow me to Lisbon?”

“I couldn’t do that, in Portugal I am well known, they’d be glad to arrest me. But I sent a man. Once in Lisbon, he got friendly with Blatsov and took part in his mad sea voyage.” Gérard shook his head. “It was a truly romantic action, more appropriate for a German than for a Russian. When their ship was dismantled by the frigate, it took them several days to reach land, but they did. My agent slipped off and came to inform me. By then, I was in Montsegur.

“How did you learn that I had gone to Brussels? When we left Lisbon, we were going to London.”

“The emperor’s secret service is very good and covers all of Europe. We had only to find Lady Borland. When I knew that she was here, I joined the emperor’s ambassador and came to find you. Blatsov has probably done the same. You haven’t been too subtle; it was easy to find you. I had you watched. When they told me that you had left the town, I followed. So, here I am. This is talk enough! The way is long and the evening near. Give me the amulet!”

Gérard held his hand again, but Luis ignored him. Then the Frenchman turned to his men and ordered:

“Search him.”

After a complete and degrading search, his men informed Gérard that the boy did not have on his person what he was looking for. He then ordered them to search the coach, whose cushions were destroyed uselessly. When they had looked, even inside the smallest cracks in the wood of the vehicle, Gérard thought deeply for some time, pushed Luis in the carriage and went in too. One of his men climbed the box, whipped the horses and made them trot. The others rode after them. Luis sat on the bare wood and looked wondering at his captor, who was sitting in front of him.

“Where are we going?”

“To Valenciennes. I believe the emperor is there.”

“Are you going to hand me over to him?”

“Of course!”

“Why?”

“Do you take me for a fool? You would never have parted from the amulet. However, you don’t have it on your person and it’s not hidden in the coach. There are two possibilities: either you have thrown it out, or you have hidden it where I cannot reach it, namely inside yourself. The first is not probable, we are in the middle of a forest, the amulet is small and you would have put it out of my reach at the expense of losing it forever. You wouldn’t be able to find it again. Therefore, I assume that you have swallowed it. The emperor ordered me to recover the amulet and bring it to him. This is exactly what I’m going to do. When I put you in his hands, I’ll have fulfilled my mission. He may do with you whatever he likes.”

“Will he kill me?” asked Luis, a little pale.

“I don’t know; I don’t care. You have given me enough work. Do you expect me to worry about your fate? Shut up. I’m bored by this conversation.”

It was night when they went through Waterloo. Several persons came out when the carriage went by, or looked out of the windows. Among them, Luis saw a pallid man, clad in black, at the door of an inn. Their eyes met and he couldn’t look elsewhere until he was lost from his sight. In spite of what Gérard had said, he would rather fall in Napoleon’s hands.

They voyaged all the night and the next day without speaking a word. The horses were exchanged twice in relay houses, but the men were not given a moment to rest. It was evening again when they went through Valenciennes. At the other side of the town, they found a large encampment. Gérard took Luis by his arm, made him get down from the carriage and pulled him to the center pavilion, the largest and most adorned. A soldier guarding the entrance stopped them.

“You can’t get in, major.”

“I must see the emperor. I’ve just come back from a very special mission.”

“The emperor is not here. He left on an inspection. We expect him tomorrow.”

“All right, I’ll wait.”

Cursing in a low voice, Gérard took Luis to the tents of his regiment, made him go inside one, put one man watching him and went away without any comment. A little later, a soldier brought him a camp ration which he could scarcely eat. Alone in the dark, he felt so exhausted after the journey that he fell on the ground in a corner, covered himself with an overcoat, closed his eyes and did not open them again until the morning.

About noon, his guard brought him to the central pavilion, where Gérard was waiting. As soon as he arrived, the major took his arm and pulled him inside the tent. This time, the soldier did not prevent their entrance. When his eyes got used to the dusk, Luis saw for the first time in his life the most feared man in Europe. He was a little disappointed at seeing him so short, thick rather than strong, with a fringe in his short hair. He was wearing a uniform, but his head was bare and his sword was lying on a divan. When Gérard and Luis came in, Napoleon turned, exchanged a significant look with the major and stared at the boy.

“This is Luis García, sire, ward of le Comte de Philippe.”

“Give me what I sent you to fetch.”

“It’s in the boy’s stomach, sire. He has swallowed it.”

Bonaparte’s surprise at these words turned suddenly into a hearty laughter.

“You saw him do it?” he asked.

“No, sire, but it’s the only possible explanation of its disappearance.”

“Is this true, boy? Have you swallowed my amulet?”

“Yes,” answered Luis, who wanted to gain time and had come to the conclusion that confessing the truth was less dangerous than trying to mislead Bonaparte. If he denied it, the emperor could order him carved to discover whether he had actually swallowed Jacob’s ladder. With his confession, he had the hope that Napoleon would wait and see whether he could eventually get it, in a simpler though not cleaner way.

The emperor did not look angry; he was enjoying Gérard’s obvious confusion. He even patted Luis on the back in a friendly way.

“I like you, boy,” he said. “You have courage and resources. Some day I’ll make a good soldier of you, but not yet, you are too young. In the meantime, you will be my amulet.”

“What, sire?” asked Gérard, astounded.

“The amulet was always in my luggage until your tutor stole it,” explained Napoleon, ignoring Gérard. “I don’t need to touch it, I don’t mind if you carry it inside you. Of course, we’ll have to watch, so that you don’t lose it. I’ll talk about it with my personal doctor, but I don’t think we’ll need to make a hole in your stomach. We’ll wait until it gets out by itself. If it doesn’t, never mind. For me, it’s enough to know that it’s again in my power. From now on, you’ll live with me in this pavilion.

With a sign, he dismissed Gérard, whose dark gesture showed his displeasure. The emperor had not even thanked him for his service.

Interlude in the second echelon

“Things are getting back to normal.”

“For the time being. They seem to have got rid of Blatsov.”

“Anyway, I’m not happy. Something is not working as it should.”

“Working is not the appropriate word, but you are right, something is fishy.”

“Blatsov has diverted our course, but I think the experiment will take place without further problems. We are very near the bifurcation.”

“We’ll see. I’m afraid Nikomakos has not spoken his last word.”

“But what can he do? Napoleon has recovered the amulet.”

“I’m worried by the simple fact that there is a Nikomakos.”

“All right, we’ll keep on watching.”