Jacob's ladder
Chapter 10: Meeting again

Napoleon had won the battle of Waterloo. Luis was not surprised, for he knew that the amulet had given him an uninterrupted series of victories, while its absence brought a succession of defeats, his abdication and his exile in Elba. Anti-Bonapartist to the utmost, he could not accept this situation which made him the instrument which would help the usurper to keep his power indefinitely. He had to escape as soon as possible, but did not know how to do it.

After the victory, the Maréchals took two army corps to follow the defeated enemy, while Napoleon rode at the head of the imperial guard to enter Brussels in triumph. Walking through the battlefield after him, while the emperor was not looking, Luis took and hid in his clothes the loaded pistol of a dead officer. He did not intend to use it, but felt safer knowing that he had it.

Going through Waterloo and the forest of Soignes brought back to his mind his adventures in those places, just three weeks ago. He could no longer recognize the exact place where Gérard had intercepted the coach and killed Gonzalo. They spent the night among the trees and started again at dawn. Once out of the forest, they found the way to Brussels flanked with people who acclaimed the winner, as they would have acclaimed Wellington if the result of the battle had been the opposite.

The town was adorned with tricolor flags in all the windows. Luis wondered what had happened with the English high society which had invaded Brussels in the last months, especially Lady Borland, and decided to learn her news as soon as possible.

He had his opportunity while the victorious parade was crossing the Grand Place, crowded with onlookers. Little by little, while Bonaparte’s attention was on the people, he walked more slowly until he found himself among the last line of soldiers, who were followed by a throng of boys singing French hymns at the top of their voices. As he was the only person in the parade not in uniform, Luis had no trouble to mix with them, leave by the first side street and walk fast in the direction of the hotel where he had been lodging with Lady Borland.

The windows of the rooms they had occupied were adorned with French flags. As his patroness would not have allowed this, he came to the conclusion that she had left the city when she learnt the news of Napoleon’s victory, which would have been known on the previous evening. He went in the hotel and walked up the stairs slowly, trying to delay the instant when his surmises would be finally confirmed.

As he had feared, the rooms were empty, except for a man sitting at a table with his chin on his hand. Luis hesitated and the man seemed to sense his presence, raised his face and stared at him with those well-known sly eyes.

“Maurice!” exclaimed Luis, going to him with his hand outstretched.

Surprised, his bodyguard stood up, took Luis’s hand in his right and put the other on his shoulder.

“I thought I’d never see you again!”

Luis laughed in relief at having met someone he knew when he thought he would be alone in the conquered city. When he recovered, he looked around and asked:

“Where is Lady Borland?”

“She has left, as all the English. Some went several days ago, at the news of Napoleon’s coming. I must say in her honor that she waited to the last and always hoped for your return.”

“But you didn’t. Why?”

“When I heard that Gonzalo had disappeared with you, I felt the suspicion that you had been abducted. I’ve never trusted him; he was too glum and reserved. He was Napoleon’s agent all the time, wasn’t he?”

“No, he worked for Blatsov.”

Maurice pursed his lips in a low whistle.

“Tell me everything. But wait, you aren’t safe here. Shouldn’t we move first to a safer place?”

“Is there any in Brussels?”

“Of course! I have many friends. Are you being hunted?”

“Napoleon will have me hunted when he knows that I have left him. I have become his amulet.”

Maurice arched his brows but did not comment.

“In that case, we’d better go somewhere else. Follow me. You’ll tell your tale later.”

Without further words, they left lady Borland’s rooms and walked to the lowest class part of the town, as usual with Maurice. In a foul alleyway, they stopped before a dilapidated door, which the man struck with his fist in a meaningful staccato. The door opened slightly, letting them see the face of an old, wrinkled, tousled woman who, recognizing the Belgian, exchanged with him a few unintelligible words, moved back and let them in. When the door was shut behind them, Luis found himself in a filthy windowless room with darkened walls, scarcely lighted by a single candle. The woman took the candle and led them to the depths of the house, grumbling as though she didn’t feel happy with their presence. A few doors opened while they passed, and Luis saw the faces of several women whose aspect and undress increased his misgivings, for he had never been in a place like that.

The old woman led them to a dark smelly room, used her candle to light another one stuck in a hole in the wall, closed the door and left them alone. The room was scarcely furnished with a single cot covered by filthy coverings, where Maurice took his seat, making him sign to follow his example. Luis obeyed squeamishly.

“We are safe. Tell me everything.”

The boy made a detailed narrative of his adventures since the last time they had met. Maurice listened attentively without interrupting, but his eyes lighted in the most interesting scenes: when Luis swallowed Jacob’s ladder, or when Napoleon decided to adopt him as a living amulet. When Luis stopped, Maurice remained silent for some time, meditating on what he had heard, and then said:

“I see. Napoleon must be trying to find you. Getting you out of Brussels will be difficult, but I’ll try, unless you want to give yourself in.”

Luis shuddered.

“I want to get as far as possible from him.”

“Then I must leave you for some time. I’ll see what I can do. You must remain in this room. If soldiers search the house, hide here.”

Moving the cot, he disclosed an iron ring on the floor with which he opened a trapdoor, showing a small space in the shape and size of a coffin.

“Madame will tell you when you should hide, and will warn you when the danger is over. Don’t worry if there are knocks on the outer door. It happens frequently, but nobody will trouble you.”

Maurice got out and Luis was left alone. It was not long before he lost count of time. The old woman in charge of the house opened the door and looked inside from time to time, but she never went in, except once to change the candle, and once again to serve him a very small repast, which he assumed must be his supper. When he couldn’t keep his eyes open, he lay on the filthy cot, but his sleep was often interrupted by staccatos on the door of the house. At first he expected to see Maurice, or feared that Napoleon’s guard was coming to search the house for him, but remembering his friend’s warning, he stopped listening and slept till the morning.

Maurice came back at noon. Before he spoke, his face told him that he brought no good news.

“Napoleon is frantic. Brussels is a wasp nest. The soldiers are searching every house for you. They’ll come here at any moment. You know what you must do.”

“Have you any plan?”

“Not yet. There’s no way to travel, the English have taken every conceivable convey, to escape.”

“Then what shall we do?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”

Maurice went off again and Luis fell on the cot, hid his face in his hands and tried to forget his troubles and passed the time reminding himself that his tutor was a prisoner. He decided to go as soon as possible to the castle of Montsegur. Once there, he expected to save Charles or, at the very least, join him and share his fate.

On the evening of the next day, Wednesday June 21st, several strong knocks made the front door shudder. The disheveled old woman entered the room and pointed at the cot. Luis understood, moved the bedstead, which was not heavy, pulled the ring, and let himself down in the narrow hole. The woman closed the trapdoor, pushed the cot in its original position and ran at the front door, where the patrol was getting impatient. Soon later, the noises coming through the cracks told Luis that the soldiers were searching the house. He felt sick and suffocating. The hole, dark as the tomb, had never been cleaned, and was full of all kinds of smells accumulated in the room for years, but he scarcely dared make a movement, fearing to attract the attention of the searchers. The wait was endless, and he was about to faint when the trapdoor opened suddenly and he saw the woman, who gave him sign that it was safe to get out. He obeyed with alacrity and breathed deeply the thick air in the room which, compared to the hiding place, seemed fresh, almost scented.

That night, just when he was about to sleep again, Maurice came back. His face was grave, but openly optimistic.

“Napoleon has offered a reward for any news which drives to your recapture. I don’t trust the girls, not even Madame. We must get off here before they know. News runs faster in this house than anywhere in Brussels.”

“Can we do anything?”

“Yes, I have the means of escape. You’ll be uncomfortable, but you have been in worse places.” His eyes looked in the direction of the hiding hole in the floor. “I’ve got a coach and a couple of horses. Be ready to leave in four hours. We’ll get out of the city before sunrise.”

“I’ve nothing to prepare, I’m wearing everything I possess. But the coach and the horses must be very expensive, and I cannot repay you.”

“My purse is full: I found money in Lady Borland’s apartments, forgotten during her hasty departure. So I’m not paying for your flight, Lady Borland herself is doing it.”

Luis tried to sleep a little, to recover his strength for the trip, but he seemed to have scarcely closed his eyes when he was shaken and saw the old woman with a candle, signing him to follow her to the door of the house. Maurice was outside, on the box of a coach, wearing a cloak similar to those used by post drivers. When Luis appeared, the Belgian got down, opened the door and raised one of the seats.

“Down there is a hole where you can hide. The city gates are watched, but don’t worry, they won’t find you.”

“Won’t they be suspicious if you try to leave Brussels with an empty coach?”

“The coach won’t be empty; several friends will come with us. They are waiting. Come on! Get in, I’ll cover you with the seat and we’ll leave.”

This was the beginning of the most uncomfortable and boring trip Luis had ever experienced. The hole was even narrower than the hiding place in the house, although the only smell was dust. Somewhat later, the coach stopped and the creaks of the seat told him that several people had got in and sat. A new stop, followed by hoarse voices, signaled the moment when they were challenged by the guard in one of the city gates. Flourishing a lantern, the watcher stared long at the faces of all the occupants of the vehicle, but he didn’t suspect that one more was hidden below the seat. At last they started again and the jolts and noise changed, showing that they were now on an earth road, and that Brussels and its dangers had been left behind.

Four days later they arrived in Aachen, where Maurice and Luis took lodgings in a third rate inn. They had been alone during the last part of their trip, as Maurice’s friends had been left in Liège. For the first time in many days, Luis felt out of the reach of Napoleon, although he knew that the frontier gave scarce protection in those perturbed times. The town had been French until the congress of Vienna, which gave it to Prussia. Obviously, after his return to power, Bonaparte would want to recover it. At least, he was no longer a prisoner and could walk around freely. Maurice was out most of the time, so Luis decided to visit Charlemagne’s city and the cathedral, which dates from that emperor’s time of and contains his tomb.

After one hour in the cathedral, which he used to thank God for having got him out of so many dangers, he was going out when he saw the dark entrance to the tower and felt the impulse to climb to the top and look at the city. The last rays of the sunset reddened the horizon while Luis looked long at the distance, before focusing his eyes on the square, just below. Then he shuddered, for he saw the shape of a man, clad in black, walking across the square, and recognized Blatsov, his unrelenting pursuer. His eyes followed him to the opposite side, near the entrance to a pub, where another man was apparently waiting for him. They shook their hands, spoke some words and went inside the place. The sunset lighted the face of the second man and Luis could identify him: he was Maurice.

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