Jacob's ladder
Second part: Bifurcation. Chapter 7: Brussels

The rooms taken by Lady Borland in ahotel in Brussels were rather more sumptuous that her home in Lisbon. The townwas in fashion, full of English people. Every day she must go to some party, soLuis scarcely saw her, even though he was lodged with his patroness. In the firstfour days after their arrival they had never met, and he came to the conclusionthat the lady had forgotten him, lost in the joys of social life in Vanity Fair.

He found this way of life boring and humdrum.Fearing to meet Blatsov, he dared not go out alone, while the hotel did notboast of a library, as the house in Lisbon. Fortunately, the servants spokeFrench. Most of them, except milady’s maid, were natives of the country.Fraternizing with them, Luis was shocked at how they used to speak about the higherclass English people who had invaded their town, not even excluding their lady.As the ward of a French exile, whose rank he had not known while they wereliving together, he had never considered himself high class. Charles hadeducated him neutrally, without prejudices in favor or against those with privileges.However, he felt deep gratitude toward Lady Borland, so it was not easy totolerate the open criticisms of her servants. On the other hand, he did notwish to make enemies of the only people with whom he could speak, therefore he triedto ignore their comments and hide his disapproval.

On the morning of Friday April 21st,when he least expected it, Lady Borland called him to her presence. When he enteredthe morning-room, he found her on one of the soft couches furnishing the room,and was surprised to see her with two men, obviously of lower rank, forotherwise she would have invited them to seat down. She pointed with her eyes ata chair and he obeyed the sign and sat: she obviously wanted him in a higher positionthan her visitors, but he could not understand why he had been called. It wasnot long before he knew.

“On Wednesday, I had an interestingconversation with Wellington’s aide-de-camp,” said Lady Borland,conversationally. “We were speaking about you.”

Luis writhed, but his mind was blankand he didn’t know what to say.

“I told him about you and Blatsov’spersecution. Brussels is full of English soldiers. His Excellency assured methat the man will be arrested immediately, if he dares to come here.

“You said the same in Lisbon,”thought Luis. However, his face was transparent for Lady Borland and shecontinued:

“This time it will be different: Blatsovwould confront my countrymen, but he won’t come, bad luck for us!”

Luis shuddered. He did not consider“luck” the most appropriate word to describe the possibility that Blatsov wouldcome to Brussels.

“You must be wondering who these menare, and what they are doing here,” continued Lady Borland. “Even if Blatsovdoesn’t come, he may send someone else. You shouldn’t always stay in the hotel,young people must breath fresh air. I have asked His Excellency to recommendtwo men who will be your bodyguards. Both are experienced in the Duke’s secretservice. Starting today, one of them will always be in your company. Let meintroduce them.”

Lady Borland pointed first at ashort, dark, bushy-browed man, then at the other, as dark as the first, but tallerand handsomer.

“This is your fellow countryman,that’s why he was chosen. His name is Gonzalo. He entered Lord Wellington’sservice during the Spanish war. The other was born here, in Belgium, but canpass for French and has been useful as a spy. His name is Maurice.”

Luis bowed slightly at the two men.He did not like having to be in their company everywhere, but submitted to thelady’s decision. On the other hand, when he needed solitude and privacy, hecould always stay in the hotel.

Whenever he decided to go out, eitherGonzalo or Maurice would jump up and follow him. He soon discovered that theywere very different, not only in appearance but also in character and behavior.Gonzalo was reserved, and did not insist on deciding where to go or the bestway to get there. Walking with him, Luis had to depend on his own resources.Maurice was talkative, and full of jokes, he liked dares, bets and running risks,his knowledge of Brussels was overwhelming and he was always trying to extractthe fullest joy of life.

The next month, nothing specialhappened. When he went out with Gonzalo, Luis visited the town, which he foundbeautiful but dirty. He liked the old town best, the buildings older than theeighteenth century. He spent lots of time in the Grand Place, in the hostelryof the Cerf Volant, leaving his gaze wander at the house of the Dukes ofBrabant, the scales supported by two little angels, and the houses of thebakers, carpenters, coopers, tanners, bow-makers and other guilds. Sometimes hewalked up the Hill and the Mountain to the Gothic cathedral of Saint Michel,where he passed many hours looking at the windows, the chair of truth or thetomb of the Dukes of Brabant. Sometimes he thought that Gonzalo must be extremelybored with him, but his face never disclosed his feelings.

He went with Maurice to verydifferent places, in the lowest parts of the town. Luis sometimes wondered whetherLady Borland would approve the mean taverns and the gambling dens, if she knew thathe was being taken there, but she never asked and gave him freedom and a wellprovided purse, which Maurice emptied with prodigality. Luis almost never bet,but amused himself by watching his companion cursing at losing money, when hewas out of luck with the dice or the cards.

On Monday May 22nd,something happened. It was Maurice’s turn and, as usual, they had ended in agambling house. Half an hour after their arrival, the door opened and a mancame in, clad in clothes smarter than those worn by the usual customers of theplace. Everybody stopped what they were doing to look at him. The owner of thehouse came forward and took him to the table where Maurice and Luis weresitting. The Belgian considered the new arrival as a possible source to recoverhis losses, but Luis stared at his face so long that the man noticed and pursedhis brow, showing that he was angry. When he was about to protest, Luis stoodup and walked out of the den without waiting for Maurice, who had to follow himreluctantly, for the arrival of the man had been his lucky turn. When heovertook Luis, two blocks beyond the gambling house, Maurice spoke angrily:

“Why are we leaving? I was winningand the night is young!”

“That man...”

“What about him?”

“I know him. He is major Gérard, andhe belongs to Bonaparte’s army.”

Maurice pursed his lips in a slygrin.

“He has not recognized you. At least,he hasn’t shown it.”

“He only saw me once, long ago, at night,near the roman bridge in Salamanca.”

“Are you sure that you’re notmistaken?”

“Yes, because I saw him again andagain without his seeing me.”

In a few words, Luis told the part ofhis story where Gérard had played an important role. Maurice listened attentivelyand asked:

“What is he doing here? Is he a spy forNapoleon in Brussels?”

“Perhaps. It would be good to know.We could have him arrested”

“I’ll take care of that. Let’s go to thehotel; I’ll leave you there and get back. It won’t be difficult to pump him out,with the wine and the gambling.”

“And you’ll take care of emptying hispurse,” thought Luis.

Two days later he saw Maurice again. Assoon as they were alone, he asked what he had found out.

“The Englishmen know that he is here, he’s nota spy. He has come in a diplomatic mission, as escort to Napoleon’s ambassador.In his free time, he spends his money on wine, women and gambling houses. He mustbe very rich: he loses money without turning a hair.”

“I’d like to know what happened to mytutor, Charles Houy, Count of Philippe. When I saw him last, he was Gérard’sprisoner. But I don’t want to meet him again.”

“I’ll replace out. You’d better remainat home today, so I’ll have time to approach Gérard without you.”

Luis had to wait for further news tillFriday, the next day he met Maurice. They did not speak until they were sittingin the Cerf Volant, far from indiscreet ears, when Maurice told him whathe had discovered.

“Le Comte de Philippe is aprisoner in France, chateau de Montsegur, in the Roussillon,” he saidwithout beating the bush.

“Does Gérard know that I’m here?”

“He didn’t say anything about thatand I dared not ask him.”

“He must not hear about me. I escapedhim once; I don’t want to fall into his hands again.”

“He remembers.”

“How do you know?”

“He has mentioned your name.”

“Then he must suspect!”

“No, he was drunk when I soundedhim.”

“Has he mentioned Blatsov?”

“The man in black? Not a word.”

“Yet they were together. Are you surethat Blatsov is not in Brussels?”

“Nobody in the retinue of the ambassadorresembles him. Don’t worry, he won’t dare to come. The English have hisdescription.”

On Sunday, Maurice could not addanything new to his previous discoveries about Gérard, but promised to get moreinformation from the Frenchman. On the next day, May 29th in theafternoon, when he went out with Gonzalo for a walk, Luis felt no premonitorywarning: it was like any other day. His companion, however, appeared nervous.Walking toward the Grand Place, as usual, he coughed several times and finallyopened his mouth:

“I know that you enjoy visiting oldchurches and monuments. Would you like to go to Anderlecht? There is a cryptthere, a monastery of the Middle Ages and a very old churchyard. It isn’t far.We can take a coach and come back on the evening.”

Luis was astonished: in these fewwords, Gonzalo had spoken more than in the preceding month. However, he liked theproposal and felt easier thinking that Gonzalo enjoyed those visits as much ashe did. Once in the Grand Place, Gonzalo talked to one of the drivers who were waitingfor customers near the Golden Head Street and invited Luis to get in thevehicle. The driver climbed the box, shook his whip and the horses trotted away.

In three quarters of an hour, theygot out of Brussels by secondary roads and went through a few villages, untilthey came to the outskirts of a forest. Luis leaned at the window to look atthe landscape and saw that the sun was high in the sky, a little to theirright. He turned to his companion and asked:

“Isn’t Anderlecht to the West ofBrussels?”

“Yes,” answered Gonzalo, who hadrecovered his usual laconic manner.

“Then the driver must have mistakenyour instructions. We are traveling to the South.”

Gonzalo grimaced but did not speak.By then, the road was bordered by trees on both sides: they were deep in theforest. Luis struck several times on the trapdoor to the box, to call thedriver’s attention, but only silence answered his efforts. In fact, the horsesincreased their speed. Alarmed, he turned to Gonzalo and said:

“We have been tricked. Let’s jump.”

He tried to open the door, butstopped at a slight pressure against his ribs. Turning around, he saw thatGonzalo had drawn forth a pistol which was pointing directly at his heart.