Текст книги "Wolf Hunt"

Автор книги: Armand Cabasson

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CHAPTER 32

ON 7 July Napoleon decided to let his army rest for the day. Detachments of hussars and mounted chasseurs harried the retreating Austrian army but came up against the Archduke’s cavalry. The Emperor wanted to pursue the enemy army, to break it up and encircle the isolated units one by one ... the pursuit had to be decisive in order to convert victory on the battlefield into total victory. The next day Napoleon would set all his troops to this task. The Grande Armée was in great confusion. Everywhere, soldiers were wandering about, isolated or in little groups, looking for their battalions. It would take hours to reorganise everyone, especially as it was hard to transmit orders. Numerous officers had been killed, interrupting the chain of command. This dysfunction generated misunderstandings and rumours. It was said that Massena’s IV Corps – which had lost twenty-five per cent of its soldiers – was going to be allowed to rest in Vienna. A few minutes later an aide-de-camp announced that it was to prepare for the pursuit.

Margont was in the village of Leopoldau to the south-west of the battlefield, taking stock of the state of his company. He had sent most of his able-bodied soldiers to collect the thousands of wounded who had not yet been tended to. Lefine was in an apathetic state, amazed still to be alive. He was sitting on a heap of rubble and, at his feet, dozens of infantrymen were asleep right there on the ground – they could have been dead. Behind him the village’s ruined houses threatened to collapse, so that Lefine looked like a petty king who had not yet realised that his kingdom was no more. Piquebois was supervising the distribution of cartridges. Gunners were gathered round an ammunitions wagon and were filling their cartridge pouches. The company needed an endless supply of bullets.

Saber was absolutely furious.

‘Unbelievable! Unbelievable! I’m still a lieutenant – not even promoted to captain! Not even that! The Austrians were obliterating our rear, our army was lost! Who was it who retook Essling? It was thanks to me! I led my company—’ ‘My company!’ corrected Margont.

‘I led our company in the charge that saved us all and will become legendary. I broke into Essling, and Klenau’s corps crumpled like an over-extended rope when someone lets go of one end. And how am I rewarded?’

‘More than thirty companies poured into Essling and its retrenchments ...’

Saber held up a finger to correct what he considered to be an important misrepresentation.

‘Ours was the first to get all the way through the village, all the others did was follow me in.’

Margont started to lose his temper. ‘You couldn’t see anything in all that smoke, so how can you say that?’

‘Only those following behind were blinded by the smoke. It was the smoke from our company firing at the front! Since our colonel refuses to make me a major, I’ll have to apply to his superior. To the general of the division. No, he would never go against the recommendations of one of his colonels. Has the Emperor been informed of my feat of arms? I demand to see the Emperor!’

After each confrontation, it was important to replace all the officers seriously wounded or killed in action as quickly as possible, so that the army could continue to function. It was traditional that heroics on the battlefield were rewarded by promotion, sometimes allowing soldiers to skip several ranks in one go. Saber would become more and more wound up as it became known that such and such had skipped captain, and so and so had skipped major

Margont caught sight of Relmyer, who was trotting over to feed his horse. He waved to the hussar, who bowed in his direction. Relmyer wore a strange expression. Pagin had died right in front of him, as had his colonel, Laborde, and many other hussars of the 8th. General Lasalle had also been killed. Relmyer could not yet admit to himself that all these men were no longer there. He was riding about, a broken man, surrounded by ghosts.

'I'm delighted to see you have survived,’ he told Margont and Le-fine. ‘Let’s go immediately and see Luise to put her mind at rest. We can see how far she’s got with her researches.'

He was already becoming obsessed again with the investigation ... ‘Fernand and I can only get away for the day.' replied Margont. ‘Tomorrow our regiment will definitely be taking part in the pursuit.'

Relmyer nodded silently. Margont left his company in Piquebois’s hands. As for Saber, he was engaged in writing his letter, failing to get past the first line, because it was rather daunting to be writing to the Emperor ... Without him fully realising it, his letter was acting as a screen, preventing him from seeing the broken flesh all around him.

Relmyer, Margont and Lefine went off, passing lost Saxons, streams of wagons heaped up with the wounded, white lines of prisoners and repentant deserters discreetly trying to rejoin their battalions ... All around lay corpses and the remains of horses, picked over by crows.

CHAPTER 33

THE Viennese were in mourning for Austrian hopes and asking each other what would happen now to the campaign. They questioned the French and their prisoners to try to hear news of loved ones serving in the Archduke’s army.

As they went into the Mitterburgs’ house, Margont, Lefine and Relmyer passed medical orderlies of the Army Medical Service. Luise had been giving them sheets to make lint, and bottles of brandy. The war was an abyss that everyone tried to fill in his or her own way. Luise stared at the three of them, motionless, incredulous. Margont had eyes only for her. Luise looked at him but Relmyer hurried to question her.

‘Did anyone recognise the man in the portrait?’

‘No ...’

Luise was stupefied. After all that they had been through in the last few hours, was that all the greeting she was entitled to? Relmyer was once again a victim of his demons. Not noticing anything, he continued in the same tone.

‘Were you able to find out anything about Teyhern?’

This time she went along with it. She led them into the salon. Her face was deathly pale. During the two days of battle she had not been able to stop herself imagining Relmyer and Margont dead, the one run through in a tangle of hussars, the other riddled with bullets. She had determinedly imagined the worst, as if to get used to it in preparation. She could not therefore quite believe that they were really there, and had difficulty in rejoicing fully at their return. There were several sheets of paper on one of the tables. Some were the rough drafts that Luise had scribbled of accounts given by the servants charged with finding information. Others were more legible. Luise had cut out parts of the information and organised them logically. She had drawn up Teyhern’s family tree and grouped his friends and acquaintances together in a diagram. She had worked hard and gathered many names, but on all the sheets there were question marks. Each of the lists was incomplete, there was no information at all on some people ... It was like looking at a building under construction. Relmyer wanted to read all the papers at the same time, holding them like a fan in each hand.

‘Who do you suspect the most?’

Luise took one of the papers; it was a pretext to touch Relmyer’s hand.

‘I don’t know, Lukas

Some names were scored through, but most were still possibilities or unknowns.

‘“Acquaintance”, “cousin”, “distant relative”, “uncle”, “colleague” ...’ said Relmyer in irritation, shuffling the documents clumsily. ‘Let’s begin at the beginning,’ suggested Margont. ‘Let’s concentrate on Teyhern’s life.’

Luise ordered the papers.

‘He comes from a modest family, born in Vienna in 1773. He’s always lived here or round about. His father worked for the state, for the Ministry of Finance. He was an accountant, but I don’t know much else about him. Teyhern had three brothers, Gregor, Florian and Bernhard.’

Relmyer could not keep still. He burnt with impatience. He was reading Luise’s notes, anticipating what she was going to say.

‘We don’t know anything more about them? This one, the oldest, Gregor, serves in the Austrian army. The regular army? The Landwehr? The volunteer force?’

‘I don’t know ...’

All his brothers are suspects! But you’ve found out almost nothing about them! The other two aren’t in Vienna any more, but where did they go? And his cousins! He has eight of them altogether ... or perhaps he has more and you’ve forgotten!’

Relmyer was exhausting himself running round the labyrinth of the lists of names and the arrows linking them to indicate the nature of their relationship to Hermann Teyhern.

‘Let’s stick to Teyhern,’ insisted Margont.

Luise’s fingers were trembling. ‘He never married,’ she went on. ‘Like his father, he worked for several years as an accountant for the Ministry of Finance. He had a lowly position and in 1801 was involved in a serious incident. Teyhern was accused of falsifying some accounts and embezzling money, quite large sums, the equivalent to fifty thousand of your francs.'

‘Fifty thousand francs? Fifty thousand francs?’ exclaimed Lefine, dazzled by such a sum.

‘Exactly. There was even a trial. But Teyhern was found not guilty. He nevertheless wanted to change jobs and he went to the Ministry of War.’

‘Not guilty?’ Margont was astonished. ‘Even we know that he was not exactly the most honest man ... Besides, he owns a superb house in Leiten. And his furniture? Marquetry chests of drawers, Louis XV armchairs ... Not to mention the porcelain, Turkish carpets ... Yet ministry employees aren’t well paid. Look at Konrad Sowsky: he was doing the same job as Teyhern but his way of life was nothing like as lavish. And from what you’ve told us, Luise, Teyhern did not come from a rich family.’

Luise agreed. A neighbour told us that Teyhern’s parents died of consumption in 1800 and that they left almost nothing to their children. And most people who knew Teyhern said that he was a spendthrift. He dressed according to the latest fashion, went often to restaurants or the opera, often visited antiquarians to buy works of art ... He was described as a misanthrope, always on his own, thinking only of himself. His work colleagues thought he came from a rich family, while his few friends imagined that he had an important post at the ministry and commanded a large salary/

‘So where did all his money come from?’

Relmyer was leaning against the table, his hands grasping the edge as if he would have liked to crush it.

‘He knew what happened to those young boys whose names he added to the military registers and exacted money for that/

‘No.' Luise objected. ‘He was already rich before joining the Ministry of War. He began to spend money hand over fist when he was still employed by the Ministry of Finance. After his trial many people thought he was guilty.'

‘Who was his lawyer?’ asked Margont.

‘Rudolph Rinz. But I crossed him out because he’s nearly sixty now. The trial was short. The prosecutor complained about the verdict. But the matter never went any further.’

‘What is the name of the judge?’

‘Vinzenz Knerkes. But it can’t be him either.’

Vinzenz Knerkes’ name was crossed out on a page covered in notes.

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s impossible.’

‘Why do you say that?’ Margont pressed her.

‘I’ve often heard him spoken of, always in a positive way. He’s respected by his peers. He has the reputation of judging the guilty harshly and he’s particularly severe on anyone who harms children or young people.’

Margont recalled the smiles the assassin carved on the faces of his young victims. Because they had been locked away for days and deprived of food and water, they could not defend themselves. That gave their tormentor the impression that they accepted the cruelty he inflicted on them. And in a way, the mutilation also created the impression that the young men had consented to their treatment. Perhaps the murderer did feel guilt. A guilt so intense, so destructive that he tried to exorcise it with his tactic of weakening his victims and then faking their smiles? ‘Perhaps the judge doubly condemns people who make young people suffer because he’s punishing them for their crimes and also for his own. One culprit escapes justice but another pays double. The assassin thus tries to ease the guilt racking him.’

This remark met a lively response. Lefine shook his head, too down to earth to accept such an abstract explanation. Luise refused to entertain the thought that a judge could be culpable. As for Relmyer, he was lost in the depths of his own reflections.

‘What age is Knerkes?’ asked Margont.

Luise was distraught. She had devoted so much time to her investigation and now Margont was putting his finger on one of the blanks in her research.

‘I didn’t find out about him ... I thought he was above all suspicion ... He must be more than forty. Yes, in fact he could be the right age ...’

‘A judge would be exempt from service in the Landwehr, otherwise the judicial system would not be able to function. On the other hand, as a representative of the Austrian state, he would not be able to escape joining the Viennese Volunteer regiment when the war came to the gates of the capital.’

‘Our judges always come from good families,’ added Luise.

‘So they are all made subaltern officers, even if they do not have a military background. And a judge is a prestigious position. Kn-erkes would have had enough authority to convince other officers of the Landwehr and some Viennese Volunteers to organise the ambush we were victims of Everything tallies with what we know about the murderer! Hermann Teyhern embezzled money: he was guilty. The judge certainly knew that, but against all expectation he declared him not guilty. Why? Perhaps he was paid to let him off. Then when Teyhern started working on the army registers, Knerkes decided to make him falsify them. Teyhern could not risk refusing – he was at Knerkes’ mercy. At the moment I think Knerkes is the prime suspect. Let’s show his portrait to someone who knows him/

‘Madame Blanken met him sometimes,’ announced Luise. ‘She held him in high regard because he had the reputation of championing children and young people. Lukas, I know when you said that someone had kidnapped you and Franz, Madame Blanken told Knerkes. She thought his help might be useful ...’

Margont’s expression hardened. ‘So without meaning to, Madame Blanken may have caused Franz’s death. Because if Knerkes is the culprit, he hurried back to Franz while Lukas and the rescue team were losing their way in the forest. It’s even possible that his position helped him to sabotage the police inquiry by setting them off on a false trail. Let’s go and talk to Madame Blanken.’

Madame Blanken confirmed that the portrait was of Judge Knerkes, but she refused to believe that he was responsible. She did agree, however, to give them his address. Knerkes was a widower and lived alone quite nearby in the village of Radlau, on the other side of the Danube.

CHAPTER 34

KNERKES rode alone across the fields. He smiled to himself, overjoyed still to be alive.

When the Archduke had ordered the retreat the day before, the regiments of professional soldiers had formed powerful marching columns, protected by the cavalry. But several battalions of the Landwehr and the Volunteers had dispersed, shedding deserters in droves. Knerkes had melted into the stream of the thousands fleeing.

He had hidden in a wood, waiting patiently until nightfall to let the Austrian army move far away. He had put on the civilian clothes that he had kept for this purpose. Having the rank of captain entitled him to a horse, but as he was a Volunteer the army had not yet provided him with one, as they were unable to equip such a large number of combatants. He therefore used his own mare and so there was nothing to indicate that he was an Austrian officer. From now on he would pass himself off as a civilian who had come home to collect his belongings before leaving to escape the effects of war.

At nightfall, he had cautiously set off. He had skirted north-west round the French army, watching the immense spread of the fires by their bivouacs. The wind carried snatches of the songs of the victorious soldiers. He lost time because of his wide detour and by daybreak he had still not arrived home. He knew that the hussars and chasseurs would pursue the Austrians during the day, so from dawn onwards he had been forced to move slowly. He had more or less succeeded in keeping out of the field of action of the two armies, but even so, he was careful only to move from one hiding place to the next. He hid himself in the woods, scrutinising his surroundings, looking out for the next wood, or a deserted farm ... As soon as the coast was clear he would hurry towards his new hiding place. He had to wait a while, trapped in a thicket, as French hussars deployed in line passed in the distance. They were sweeping a meadow strewn with bodies, looking for the remains of one of their superior officers.

Finally Knerkes found himself far enough north-west of the battlefield to avoid the possibility of bumping into a platoon of cavalry, and he therefore trotted straight to Radlau.

The village was deserted. The fighting had not reached here, but Knerkes did not let down his guard. He might still come upon a deserter or thieves pillaging the evacuated houses.

He considered his position. Lukas Relmyer would never give up searching for him, and that thought appalled him. What could be worse than to have someone relentlessly tailing you? Besides, Tey-hern had told him that the army had found out that he had falsified the military registers. The naive fool had wanted to blackmail him! A few knife strokes had soon dealt with that problem. But the military investigators would never leave it there. Teyhern had sworn that he had told them nothing, but was that true? What’s more, after his blackmail attempt, Teyhern had warned him that he had given his friends letters asking them to pass them on to the Ministry of War if he had not contacted them after a few weeks.

Teyhern believed he was protecting himself. He had planned to leave Vienna and to take up his opulent way of life in Berlin. Unfortunately for him Knerkes had also decided to flee. He thought he would settle in Westphalia or Bavaria. People would assume he had been killed at Wagram.

Knerkes could have left immediately but he had wanted to return home for a last time. He was keen to retrieve some personal belongings as well as the money he had amassed in preparation for his final departure. He had not dared take his gold with him before the battle. Had his horse been killed or wounded, Knerkes would have had to abandon it with its saddlebags full of coins. By the same token, had he been captured, his horse and his fortune would have been seized. A new life would not be possible without money. But these were not the only factors bringing him back here. A young man, bound and gagged in the shed, awaited his attentions. Knerkes had managed to lure him to his house and overcome him just before the battle had started, interrupting him. Now that he was a widower he could use his own home for his crimes. The young man would be very weak by now: he would not be able to put up any resistance ...

Knerkes stopped in front of his house. He felt excitement take hold of him; his face was filmed in sweat. He dismounted, hastily tied his horse to a stake and hurried over to the shed. He opened it and found himself face to face with an adult. Knerkes drew back, bewildered, as Relmyer advanced on him. Relmyer experienced a moment of total triumph. It was much more than just the feeling of confronting the criminal in order to arrest him. He was stepping out of the shadow of the shed, but he felt as though he were coming out of the cellar of the ruined farm. The prisoner, whom he had freed two hours earlier, had fled, but Relmyer imagined that there was still a young boy there and that it was Franz. His dream was coming true. In his confused state, he felt fifteen again. But he had changed into an adult skilled in combat, into an élite soldier who was easily going to floor their kidnapper. At that moment Relmyer relived his past but this time in the winning role.

Knerkes backed towards his horse. He withdrew one of his horse pistols but Relmyer was too quick for him. The point of his sabre plunged into Knerkes’ wrist, forcing him to drop the weapon. Relmyer’s attack had been executed to perfection. Knerkes pressed his wound with his good hand to stop the blood flowing. Margont and Lefine suddenly appeared. Margont came through one of the windows of the house while Lefine came from one of the neighbouring woods. They were quite far away. Fearing that if Knerkes noticed anything amiss he would guess that he had been set a trap, Margont, Lefine and Relmyer had hidden themselves at some distance from each other. They had formed a wide circle to ensure that they caught Knerkes in their net. They approached slowly, fearing that haste would frighten Knerkes into some desperate act. The two Frenchmen walked determinedly, pointing their pistols. Relmyer asked Knerkes: ‘What was the point of the mutilated smiles?’

Knerkes did not reply, seeing that his silence would unsettle his opponent.

‘Why, why, why?’ persisted Relmyer.

Knerkes had understood that he would not win a fight with Relmyer, so instinctively he attacked his weak point – his mind.

‘You can’t kill me,’ he announced, his voice brimming with confidence. ‘It’s you who are my prisoner, my little Lukas.’

Relmyer had the impression that something gave way inside him. He found himself in the same situation as before; the past was consuming the present! In spite of his age, of his lieutenant of hussars uniform and his fearsome sabre, Relmyer felt frail and defenceless, just like a weakened boy.

He stared at the drops of blood dripping between Knerkes’ fingers. He reminded himself that he knew more than fifty different attacks that could floor the man in a flash. But Knerkes wore the same masterful expression now as when he'd threatened Franz and him with his weapon.

‘You haven’t changed,’ added Knerkes. ‘Nothing has changed.’

At that, with the stupefying audacity of one who has nothing to lose, he turned his back on Relmyer and untied and mounted his horse. Relmyer was paralysed into inaction. Margont began to run. ‘He’s escaping!’ yelled Lefine.

Just as Knerkes galloped off, Lefine fired, but he missed. The detonation jerked Relmyer out of his torpor. All three of them made for their horses, hidden at some distance to prevent Knerkes’ horse from smelling their presence and starting to whinny. Neither Margont nor Lefine reproached Relmyer. He was in more disarray than ever. But with each step, he took hold of himself. The duellist in him, and the hussar, exhorted him to counterattack. He was the first into the saddle.

Knerkes had gained a head start. His silhouette moved speedily across the plains. He was heading west towards the Danube. He wanted to lead his pursuers into the marshy labyrinth of the river. Relmyer overtook Margont and Lefine. His horse, in harmony with its master, understood that Relmyer wanted above all to catch the fugitive and so it galloped with unusual zeal. Soon the long blue ribbon of the Danube appeared, hidden from time to time by the abundant woods.

Knerkes reached the first trees. Relmyer sheathed his sabre and took hold of one of his horse pistols. Although he was at full gallop, he aimed precisely at Knerkes’ horse. The shot hit the mare’s rump – it was an excellent shot, worthy of the hussar’s reputation. Knerkes forced his animal forward, but now it was having difficulty trotting, its hind legs sagging. Knerkes took hold of his second horse pistol but the wound weakened his hand and he almost dropped it. He transferred it to his left hand. Relmyer fired with his other weapon and wounded Knerkes’ horse again. This time the mare was immobilised. Knerkes just had time to dismount before it collapsed. He began to run through the trees and thickets. His plan had failed; he would not now be able to lose his opponents. He might be able to hide and pick them off one by one, but what were his chances of success? He could think of only one solution. Relmyer stopped his horse and continued his pursuit on foot through the woods, so as not to offer too easy a target. He moved forward cautiously, sabre in hand, scrutinising every possible hiding place. The dense vegetation enveloped him in an oppressive

green veil. The route was easy to follow: he could see drops of blood on the grass. Margont joined him, armed with a pistol and a sword. When the two men next saw Knerkes, he was wading into the Danube. The water was already up to his chest and the current was strong, swelled by the thawing snow. Margont aimed at him. ‘Drop your pistol!’ he commanded.

Knerkes raised his left hand and ostentatiously let his weapon drop; it sank like a stone. He did not need it any more. He smiled and continued to advance into the river. The current began to carry him off

‘He’s getting away from us!’ cried Relmyer. ‘Fire!’

Margont could not bring himself to do it.

‘He’s unarmed, it would be murder,’ he replied. ‘Let’s follow him along the riverbank.’

‘If he knows how to swim, he’ll find his feet on one of the little islands and we’ll lose him for ever! Fire! I don’t care if it’s the correct procedure, fire!’

Margont was still threatening Knerkes, who was getting further and further away. Relmyer flung himself on Margont’s weapon and took it from him. Margont wanted to take it back, but Relmyer stabbed him with his sabre, exactly as he had wounded Knerkes. Margont stared with disbelief at his bloody, painful wrist.

‘Don’t force me to kill you,’ warned Relmyer. ‘It would pain me immensely, but I would do it.’

Margont stood stock-still. Relmyer aimed in his turn at Knerkes. Now he was only a head moving away on the current. He was laughing at the sight of his pursuers arguing. It was inevitable that Relmyer would fire at him. It was the last hurdle he had to cross; after that the current would carry him out of range.

To put Relmyer off, he shouted: ‘Until next time, little Lukas!’

The bullet shattered his skull.