morning. The denunciations cost Bonaparte’s government four million francs a year, and they consider it a bargain.”
“Once in Paris we’ll be hidden among friends,” Catherine said.
“Alas, we’re hard-pressed in Paris as well, Comtesse. Georges Cadoudal has been arrested.”
“What?” Catherine’s question was more of a cry. She was having a bad night.
“After a coach chase through Paris, Georges shot one policeman and tried to blend with the crowd, but someone pointed him out. General Pichegru was seized after fighting a dozen men in his sleeping chamber. General Moreau had already declined to cooperate with our plan—he says he is a republican, not a royalist, even though Bonaparte is neither—but they’ve imprisoned him anyway. Our conspiracy is falling apart before it can get started.”
I turned around, wondering if it was too late to get back aboard Phantom, but the sloop had disappeared. “They didn’t tell us this in England,” I said, sounding more inane than I intended.
“They didn’t know. A servant was caught, and the network unraveled under torture. Réal is an expert at coercion.”
“Perhaps our chase on the Channel crossing also came from betrayal.”
“Indeed, Monsieur Gage. It’s sheer pluck and fortitude you’ve come this far.”
So I’d sailed into a fiasco. Cadoudal was a burly rebel from Brittany. Former French generals Pichegru and Moreau were military heroes who despised Napoleon. Now they were all in prison? “We should regroup,” I said.
“First you must hide.”
“We will not give up,” Catherine vowed.
“Oui, mademoiselle. But only if you can keep from being imprisoned.”
This rebel captain had common sense. “And we avoid that how, exactly?” I asked.
“By getting off this beach. Come, there’s a slit of a ravine smugglers have used for decades. It’s wet, steep, and muddy, but we have climbing staffs.” He looked at Catherine. “Some dry clothes soon, Comtesse. And a brandy.”
“What would warm me is a regiment loyal to the Bourbons.”
“Oui, mademoiselle. All in good time.”
The cut in the bluffs was almost impossible to spot from the sea, and probably just as invisible above. Storm-gnarled shrub hid us as we climbed steeply toward a plateau of farmland. Mud soon joined the blood and water in our clothes. Fortunately, there were fixed ropes to help. To Catherine’s credit, she didn’t complain once except to curse the geography. For a lady, she had a rich vocabulary.
We’d ascended halfway, coming out of bent trees to flattened grass and heath, when a shot came and one of Butron’s men coughed and fell backward. I’m always amazed at how a musket ball falls a victim, as if a puppeteer cut his strings. One moment a man is thriving, and the next he is a silent sack of meat. And it’s dumb chance that you live and he dies.
More shots rang, slugging into the grit around us.
“Patrol! They must have seen their ship’s rocket!” Butron’s men drew pistols and fired at the flashes. Then silence as everyone reloaded, ramrods scraping barrels. Sword fights don’t pause, but a gun battle provides intermissions.
Our comrade was dead, the captain confirmed, so we abandoned him and crawled a few more yards. More shots whined overhead. Shooting high is so common a mistake that soldiers wear high hats and plumes to bait the enemy. Aim low and slow is always my advice; your quicker opponent will likely miss.
“They’ll block us at the top,” Butron predicted. “We can’t descend; the incoming tide will reach to the cliffs.” He sounded apologetic. “We may be trapped, monsieur.”
“The devil we are. Those soldiers are between me and a warm fire.” I had to live up to my reputation for ingenuity, especially if I was going to impress a comtesse. I was a protégé of Benjamin Franklin, after all, and a hero of Acre. There was no time to be truly clever, but perhaps I could be daring.
“Listen: pick up stones or clods of earth. I’m going to draw their fire with the help of rocks you throw my way, and when their weapons are empty, charge. Save your powder until you’re right on top of them and then finish with ball and steel.”
“You’ll expose yourself for us, Ethan?” I detected a slight note of deference from Catherine, and puffed at finally getting proper notice and being addressed by my first name. It’s easier being brave with a female looking on.
“I need your coats and climbing staffs. I’ll scramble up the side of the ravine and make it look as if we’ve fled that way. When I shoot at the enemy patrol, throw your rocks at me to