Free The Magician's Wife by Brian Moore Page B

God is not on their side but on ours.’
    ‘I think it’s a capital notion,’ the Emperor said. ‘It’s a gamble of course and may well come to nothing. But if we win it? If you succeed, Monsieur Lambert, you will be saving thousands of our soldiers’ lives.’
    At once Lambert made a small bow in the Emperor’s direction. ‘Your Majesty, I am honoured by your confidence and, of course, I will do my utmost to be worthy of it.’
    ‘Good.’ The Emperor turned to Emmeline. ‘Madame, your husband will be in Algeria for several weeks. He may have to travel to different venues. Colonel Deniau has suggested that it might make his stay more pleasant were you to accompany him. It’s up to you, of course, but Algeria is, I am told, a very interesting country and it will be part of our plan to send your husband there with all the ceremony we would afford our highest ambassador. You will be fêted and dined by both the sheikhs and the French community. You will be housed in Algiers as the guests of the Governor-General.’
    Emmeline looked at Lambert who, with an almost imperceptible nod of his head, was urging her to accept. ‘I will be glad to go, Your Majesty,’ she said. ‘As you say, it will be very interesting.’
    At once, the Emperor leaned towards her and again put his hand on her arm, his fingers moving from her elbow to her shoulder in a long lascivious caress. ‘Good, good. What a lucky man you are, Lambert, to be married to this charming girl. Don’t forget, you will both be my special guests at the curée tomorrow night.’
    He rose and, lifting her hand in his, put his moustachioed lips to her skin. ‘Till then, dear Madame.’
    A few minutes later, walking down the long draughty corridor between her husband and Deniau, she was filled with a sudden rush of excitement. ‘But when will we go?’ she asked Deniau. ‘And what sort of clothes will I need in Africa?’
    ‘There is a ship sailing from Marseille to Algiers on the 27th,’ Deniau said. ‘And a second one sails three weeks later. It depends on whether your husband can assemble what he needs in time to make either sailing. What do you think, Henri?’
    ‘I have already decided on what I will need,’ Lambert said. ‘I can be ready for the sailing on the 27th. What about you, my dear?’ He turned to her as if in question but she knew it was rhetorical. ‘Yes, we can be ready,’ he said to Deniau.
    ‘As for clothing, at that time of year it will be like a dry summer’s day in France,’ Deniau said, smiling at her. ‘Don’t worry, we will go over all the necessary arrangements. You know, I’m delighted that you’ll be with us on this adventure.’
    ‘The Emperor is an extraordinary man, isn’t he?’ Lambert said. ‘I’ve met many kings and queens and rulers, as you know, but no one like him. Obviously, a man of great vision.’
    Emmeline, listening, knew now that her husband had not needed to be persuaded to accept this mission. In the five years of their marriage she had never seen him so happy as at this moment. Now he was more than a magician. Now, he was France’s emissary on an important mission. But at the same time she sensed that Deniau was aware of this conceit and amused by it. For, turning to her with his usual intimate smile, he asked, ‘What did you think of him, Madame? He has an eye for the ladies, no?’
    ‘But we ladies have eyes too,’ she said, laughing. ‘The Emperor uses rouge.’
    ‘That could be,’ Deniau agreed. He turned to Lambert. ‘But you’re right, of course. He is a man of vision. Think of it. Nine years ago he was a simple member of the National Assembly. Then, four years later, he staged his coup d’état and now he’s Emperor Napoleon and the victor of Crimea. And by this time next year I hope he’ll be the conqueror of Algeria. With your help, of course.’
    ‘My help?’ Lambert laughed. ‘He doesn’t need me.’
    ‘He does, my dear fellow. We all do.’
    But when he said this,