Free Three Emperors (9780062194138) by William Dietrich Page B

reminded of it by the master of a prancing horse with bouncing tiger head—dressed in a uniform costing more than I’d earned in years of service—while simply trying to cross the street.
    â€œExcuse my interruption,” I said, trying to step around. “I’m sure you’re busy.” A bugler mounted on a white mare blocked my way. The street had filled with cavalry, putting me in a ring of intimidating horsemen. Some had bearskin hats that rose like shaggy towers, and their sabers banged and rang like chimes. Sashes held pistol butts, and pennants were topped with lance heads.
    â€œYou’ve an odd way of turning up, Gage,” Murat said, and addressed the others. “This American was at the pyramids and Marengo, but I’ve also seen him at Boulogne, the Invalides, and Mortefontaine. He’s like a cat hurled into a pond that finds its way home. It amuses the emperor.” He turned back to me. “Are you on a mission?”
    â€œTo Prague. Secret, hurried, vital. I have to cross the Danube.”
    â€œThen fortune has indeed united us! There’s no crossing to be had. The enemy holds Tabor Bridge, and they’ll shoot if you come from our lines.”
    â€œI wasn’t planning on there being any French lines.”
    â€œNeither did Emperor Francis! We’re pushing him to his own frontier!” Murat leaned down again, treating me like a confidant. Men always want to either shoot me or trust me, neither course warranted by the facts. “Truth be told, we’ve ridden ahead of Napoleon’s orders. Vienna was a fruit begging to be picked.”
    And its capture would assure Murat fame. “Then I’ll search for a boat,” I tried. “I need to get to Bohemia.”
    â€œBut you’re Talleyrand’s man, are you not? Like me?” The patronage of the grand chamberlain was typical of the interwoven strands of Napoleon’s new aristocracy, a gang as tight and treacherous as Corsican bandits. Twenty years before, Talleyrand had been a churchman who didn’t believe, and Murat a boy bored by studying for a priesthood. The two had allied and risen together.
    â€œPerhaps.” I stalled. I’d been recruited to work for the foreign minister at the coronation but agreed only out of expediency, and escaped after stealing Talleyrand’s cloak and taking the broken sword. I’d cut my puppet strings.
    â€œGood news, Gage. I’ve seen the grand chamberlain’s other agents here, your comtesse and policeman. You’ll be joining together?”
    I tried not to choke. Catherine Marceau and Pasques, my two enemies from my adventures before Trafalgar, were in the Austrian capital? Catherine had pretended to be a comtesse while betraying us, and Pasques was a policeman the size of a bull who’d plagued me since I met him. I’d escaped from Richter in Venice, only to stumble across another nest of plotters in Vienna?
    All looking for the Brazen Head, I guessed.
    I couldn’t risk having them see me, lest they cry “English spy” and have me arrested, tortured, seduced, or lectured. I feared they were looking for Astiza and that my presence would convince them that they were getting close.
    â€œCertainly not, Marshal,” I said. “My orders are to remain alone and anonymous.” I had no orders, of course. “You’ve put me at hazard by calling my name and surrounding me with cavalry. You must let me slip anonymously by.”
    â€œThe marshal prefers to be called Your Serene Highness,” the bugler interrupted.
    â€œI’m afraid I must borrow you, Gage,” Murat said. “I’m in trouble with the emperor because of my own initiative. I’m winning the war yet being blamed for losing it. I’ve galloped ahead and been told to fall behind. It’s all jealousy, posturing, and politics. You’ve a reputation for being sly. Swing up behind my bugler there and come