Читать книгу Nightcap and Plume - Bowen Marjorie - Страница 8

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Toll listened while the four men discussed Gustaf, they agreed that he was an asset to any cause because of his brilliant personal gifts, in particular, his superb oratory and seductive manners. But what was known of him? None had his confidence. There was no favourite, man or woman. Affable to all, he disclosed himself to none.

"There is not anyone?" insisted M. de Vergennes, puzzled.

Count Scheffer, who had known Gustaf all his life, declared that there was no one, his mother had some influence over him—not much, she was left outside this plot, he took trouble to surround himself with brilliant young men, he told them nothing he would not have told his coachman, a near friend was the Bishop of Visby, but he was ignorant of the mind of the King who despised the Church.

"He is an able intriguer," said Baron Jakob. "He can conduct this conspiracy, while seemingly absorbed in frivolity, his powers of dissimulation are remarkable, he has tact—are these the gifts of the playhouse only? He has not been put to the test," the stern soldier was plainly uneasy. "Perhaps we risk our lives, our estates, on a man who plays a masquerade, an actor, a poet, perhaps he fools, with his schemes on paper! Listen, M. de Vergennes, I sent M. Toll to him, and he admitted this stranger to his full confidence at once."

"It was clever of him, he saw I knew too much," said Toll calmly. "And remember I had already persuaded you that I might be useful."

"You had found out too much for us to be indifferent to you, certainly," replied Baron Jakob. "I sent you to the King—partly to test him—partly to test you."

"I know. You almost hoped he would have me disposed of when I made my bold throw, you almost hoped you would be rid of me that way." Toll spoke with good humour, with deference towards the French Ambassador. "You were in two minds about me of course—yet, if he had done just that, you would have known him fearful, suspicious and cruel and would perhaps not have continued to intrigue for him—as it is—" Toll was abruptly silent.

"He acted, perhaps, like a fool, confessed everything, accepted you on my word."

"On his own perception," corrected Toll; he spoke directly to M. de Vergennes. "Do you, Sir, consider His Majesty a fribble? It is important that we should know how far you think we may trust him."

"I saw him for a few weeks only at Versailles, against a glittering background, he exactly suited our taste, our fashion. I cannot judge his capacity to endure a great role—his courage—"

"Courage," repeated Baron Jakob sombrely. "His is no martial temperament—has he heard a musket fired? He is afraid of assassination and keeps a pair of pistols on his desk. Wears mail, perhaps, beneath his waistcoat—we deal with a Prince who writes verses, and embroiders ladies' sashes, also designs costumes, wears a silk scarf—vermilion heels."

"A useful disguise for one in his position," remarked Toll.

"Is it a disguise? Is it not the man himself?" demanded Baron Goran keenly. "He is too accomplished in all gentle arts."

"But you have backed him, gentlemen, as has France," smiled M. de Vergennes. "An enigmatical character. Courage? He will need that, of many kinds, to put through this—fantastic adventure."

"So fantastic it is not credited," said Toll. "That is amusing is it not—Sir John Goodrich suspects, but none will believe him. Well, I'll answer for Scania, I await only the signal."

Baron Jakob asked bluntly:

"How much money can you raise for us, M. de Vergennes?"

"The King had the first instalment of his subsidy, a million and a half livres last January," replied the Frenchman taking refuge in a seeming stupidity, repeating what was known to all of them.

The Finns despised this fencing—were they dealing with avarice or bankruptcy?

"It has been his sole resource," remarked Baron Jakob. "One does not buy Sweden for a million and a half livres. It was expected that your Excellency would bring more supplies."

M. de Vergennes, careful not to admit that he could not compete with Prussia, England or Denmark financially, made wary half promises, and turned the talk onto the Struensee scandal that had, he believed, further disgusted Gustaf with his unlucky wife, and with the King's visit, on his return from Paris, to his uncle Frederik of Prussia at Potsdam. "They disliked one another, I hear? These family alliances on which one counts so much, how little they prove! The Danish marriage has been complete disaster—and the Queen Mother, so loyal to her son, cannot influence her brother in his favour." The Frenchman rose and his guests got to their feet, Toll a head and shoulders above them all. "I wish you success, gentlemen," a keen question followed the conventional words. "What do you suppose your King will make of his success—if he obtains it?"

"He means to be a citizen king of a free people," said Baron Jakob. "A disciple of Voltaire—Rousseau. As for me—say that the game, not the stakes are my concern."

"Do you trust him?" asked the Frenchman. "He has shown he can deceive. He has signed the oath to a Constitution he intends to subvert, maybe you hatch a tyrant."

"If he has the makings of a Caesar," smiled Baron Goran, "one among us will have the makings of a Brutus. I do not fear his tyranny—but his lack of courage. He must act alone in Stockholm, Toll and Prince Karl will be in Scania, I and my brother in Finland—"

"You have to risk the question of his courage," said M. de Vergennes. "I hardly understand him—why does he concern himself with dangerous plots? For one of his temperament the life he has—every luxury—a gilded idleness—should be sufficient."

The Frenchman considered his own court where Louis XV lived so unperturbed by any pricks of conscience, of idealism, of heroics; secretly the ambassador considered Gustaf likely to make an absurd failure—Russia would pounce across Finland, England send her fleet to the Baltic—Denmark push across the frontiers, France would face yet another political failure, and the four fine men now begging money from the Bourbon would die barbarously. Probing Count Scheffer who had known Gustaf so intimately, the Frenchman tried again to discover if there was not anyone who had the King's confidence; M. de Vergennes was so accustomed to working through favourites that this situation found him at a loss.

"None," repeated the Chamberlain. "You might say that he is open with all, accessible to all, uninfluenced by any—until this plot, he was candid and concealed nothing."

"He must be very lonely," remarked the Frenchman dryly.

"He wears openly the colours of Madame d'Egmont, he was much with her when in Paris, but she is entirely virtuous and he gave his friendship to other noble ladies of pure reputations, Madame de la Marck, Madame de Boufflers—nothing there, a coquetting with philosophy and the graces of the salons."

He looked with a trace of compassion at the two soldiers, the courtier, the adventurer, who were prepared to stake their all on such a King as Gustaf III was likely to prove, but compassion was not in his instructions, he had to maintain the dignity and credit of a great nation who possessed little of either. He asked if there was any means of getting rid of Baron Pechlin, the ablest of the King's enemies and if Baron Jakob was sure of his officers?

Pechlin, was the reply, was far too cunning to be meddled with, had it been possible to make away with him, that would have been done before now, but he was sly and cautious to the extreme, the only hope of outwitting him was by a surprise. As to his confederates, Baron Jakob could count he said, on several members of his loyalist club, "The Swedish Band," men of integrity and importance, who did not, however, yet know the details of the plot, he mentioned a naval man, Henrick Af Trolle, and a Baron Saltza of the Guards...

"Pechlin flatters the King," said Toll, "but when I told him there was his chief enemy he replied that he knew—I warned him also of Prince Karl and Aurora Lowenhjelm."

"You were bold," remarked M. de Vergennes.

"I have to be. His Majesty received my impertinence well. We cannot trust Prince Karl who means to marry Fersen's niece, we cannot trust this silly frivolous girl. But we can trust the King to avert this danger."

"Ah," the Frenchman shook his head. "Is he also not frivolous? He has told this mighty secret to M. Beylon and M. Schorderheim, two humble civilian members of his household."

"Who would die for him," added Toll, "and who fetch and carry for him without attracting attention, so that he need not employ any servant or messenger on his secret business."

M. de Vergennes watched the two Swedes, the two Finns, as they picked up their gloves and cloaks. He rebuked himself for stupidity, really, he had become unbalanced in his judgment through having so far met only one type of human being; these men were honest, were patriots, they were not considering their own advantage, indeed they were all, except Toll, in good positions, they had everything to lose, even Toll could have sold himself at a high price to Pechlin or Russia, but they were really moved by these bad harvests, that corrupt Diet, the national vassalage, the poverty and suffering of their country, the debased coinage, the humiliation of a people essentially noble and brave. The Frenchman had often yawned through dramas where Bayard or some such chivalrous figment of academic fancy had declaimed self sacrificing and lofty sentiments, until now, he had not taken such aspects of mankind seriously; he had pulled himself up only just in time—he had nearly been so foolish as not to believe in the possibility of virtue.

The Swedish Band—the key to the puzzle was there; these quiet men were the prototypes the posturing actors aped; perhaps even the King? It was bizarre, but possible, that he had neither mistress, favourite nor vice, that he too was a patriot—a patriot? Sweden was his by adoption only, more likely he was a brilliant harlequin, but M. de Vergennes resolved to keep an open mind; he felt slightly uneasy, he would have preferred to have dealt With Osterman, Goodrich or even Pechlin.