‘They have not let me into their secrets,’ murmured the postmaster.

‘They have a royal look, it seems to me …’

‘What do you suggest?’

‘Louis and Antoinette.’

‘Pish!’ said the postmaster, who disliked responsibility. ‘My job is to change horses, not to invent trouble.’

The horses were changed; the berline was ready to leave. A crowd gathered to watch it go, and in that crowd it was already being whispered: It is the King and his family.’

The berline drove out of Châlons.

The King smiled and looked reassuringly at his family.

‘That was the testing place,’ he said. ‘We all decided, you remember, that once through Châlons we should be safe.’

He closed his eyes. He was ready for a little nap.

The Queen listened to the clop clop of the horses’ hoofs. Soon Axel … soon, she was thinking.


* * *

Soon they would reach Pont de Somme-Vesle, and there they would find waiting for them the Duc de Choiseul and his cavalry; he would accompany the berline until they joined up with Bouillé’s troops. ‘Then,’ said the King, ‘all will be well, for if any try to stop us, they will have my loyal soldiers to face.’

The Dauphin was pointing to the green fields.

‘Papa, Papa, let us get out and pick some flowers.’

‘Should we not go on?’ said the Queen. ‘We are already late.’

‘We have passed the danger,’ Louis assured her. ‘A few minutes at the roadside will do us no harm and will placate Monsieur le Dauphin.’

So the berline pulled up at the roadside, and the Dauphin and Madame Royal ran about shrieking with joy.

Antoinette sat back fanning herself.

‘It was pleasant,’ she said, ‘to be with loyal people again.’

‘That man Vallet was touching,’ murmured the King, ‘quite touching … in his desire to help us.’

In the distance they heard the sound of galloping hoofs, and they came nearer and nearer. It was a solitary horseman who slackened his pace a little as he approached the berline.

Antoinette and the King looked out of the window and they saw his face – excited and strained. He shouted: ‘Have a care. Your schemes are known. You will be stopped.’

Then he was gone.

The King and Queen looked at each other in horror.

Then Antoinette called sharply to Madame de Tourzel: ‘Bring the children back to the carriage. We must leave here at once.’


* * *

They came into Pont de Somme-Vesle. The place seemed deserted. The outrider, who had ridden on ahead of them to make sure that fresh horses would be ready, met them with a worried expression.

The cavalry were not there.

While the horses were being changed there was great dismay in the berline, and eventually a single cavalryman appeared in the distance.

The King put his head out of the window and shouted to him: ‘Where is the Duc de Choiseul?’

‘He left, Sire, with his hussars.’

‘Why so?’

‘Sire, it was due to the fact that you did not arrive at the appointed time. It is three hours since you should have been here and, owing to the confused message of Monsieur Léonard, Monsieur le Duc de Choiseul thought that you had not been able to leave when you planned to do so.’

‘He had orders to await our coming,’ cried the King.

‘Yes, Sire, but he greatly feared trouble. He had been asked questions. Many people passed along the road and wanted to know what the presence of troops in the district meant. Monsieur de Choiseul’s reply was that he was guarding bullion which was to pass along the road to Paris. But there was a rumour, Sire, that you and the Queen were coming this way with the royal children, and the mayor was afraid that the peasants would rise against the soldiers and prevent your passing. Then there was a little trouble between some of the peasants and the soldiers. Monsieur de Choiseul thought he could do great harm by staying, and so moved off towards Clermont. He has sent messages by Léonard to the Marquis de Bouillé, explaining what he has done.’

The Queen said: ‘It will be necessary for us to go on without the escort, and that we should do with all speed. Choiseul and his hussars have been unable to meet us, but there will be the dragoons waiting for us at Sainte-Ménehould.’

She sat back, determined not to show the others how alarmed she was becoming.


* * *

In the town of Sainte-Ménehould the rumours were wild. Something was afoot. All day the town had been filled with dragoons, who stood about as though waiting for some important event. They had swaggered into the inns; they had drunk very freely and they had gambled with the local inhabitants. Something was about to happen in Sainte-Ménehould, and it was to be kept a secret from the inhabitants. This was not right. But what could they do about it? They could guess! The soldiers, when plied with liquor, found it difficult to keep silent. Some important persons were coming this way and they were to escort them on their journey. Oh, depend upon it, it was a very important party.

‘Mayhap it is the Prince de Condé or someone of that rank?’ said the innkeeper.

‘Mayhap. Mayhap.’

The soldiers strutted about the streets. Their commander, the Comte de Damas, was alarmed. He saw that many of them were ready to be very friendly with certain young men who ostentatiously displayed the blue, white and red cockade.

Léonard arrived in the town with a confused message. The little hairdresser was distressed. His business was to create new styles for ladies’ hair, not to ride about the countryside delivering verbal messages which he did not understand.

What was the exact message he had received from Monsieur de Choiseul? He could not quite remember. But he knew that Monsieur de Choiseul had thought it better to move from Pont de Somme-Vesle because the inhabitants of that place were suspicious of him.

Damas considered. He decided to send most of his troop to a spot five miles distant, where they could camp for the night. He himself would remain at Sainte-Ménehould, greet the King on his arrival, and tell him that he had had to divide his soldiers because of the growing rumours.

So when the berline arrived at Sainte-Ménehould it was to find again no escort waiting for them.

But Damas was there and it was good to see him. He was able to explain the position. His dragoons were not far off, and after passing Les Islettes the berline would take the quiet road to Varennes, and not far distant from that town they would meet Bouillé and his army.

It had been arranged that fresh horses would be waiting for them at the little villages where there would not be posting houses, and this would be ideal, for there would be no inquisitive people to wonder who they were.

There had been some delay and some misunderstanding, but, Damas assured the King and Queen, they were almost on the road to safety.

Among those who watched the handsome berline while the horses were being changed and who saw the respectful way in which the officer of the dragoons addressed the occupants of the coach, was the postmaster’s son, Jean Baptiste Drouet.

He was a young man of strong revolutionary feelings, and he knew that the occupants of that carriage were émigrés; more than that they were persons of high standing, for who but the very rich would escape in such comfort?

He watched the berline take off and, as he did so, Guillaume, one of his friends, came up to him and said: ‘Do you know who that was, Jean Baptiste?’

‘It’s some of those cursed aristocrats,’ said Jean Baptiste. ‘Why should we let them pass? It is our duty to detain them.’

‘Someone rode in from Châlons. He says it is the King and Queen.’

Drouet brought his hand down sharply on his thigh. ‘The King and Queen! And we let them pass!’

He leaped onto the wall of his father’s house and shouted: ‘Citizens! Do you know what has just happened? The King and Queen have passed this way. They are escaping to the frontier.’

A crowd gathered. They smiled. ‘Oh, ’tis Jean Baptiste again. He’s a firebrand, he is. He ought to go to Paris and tell them how to run the revolution.’

‘Citizens!’ cried Jeane Baptiste, ‘what will you do? Will you wait here and bring the venom of France upon your shoulders?’

‘What can we do?’ asked one old wine-grower. ‘Run after the fine carriage?’

‘My God,’ cried Jean Baptiste, ‘somebody must. Come, Guillaume. They are on their way to Varennes. I heard it said. We’ll get there ahead of them and we’ll raise the town against them. They must not pass beyond Varennes. Now we know why there are soldiers hereabouts. They’ll be advancing on us … destroying the vines … destroying our homes. Come, Citizens!’

The people of Sainte-Ménehould shrugged their shoulders. Guillaume was reluctant. ‘Don’t make a fool of yourself,’ said the wife of Jean Baptiste.

But Jean Baptiste was a son of the Revolution. He demanded that Guillaume go with him; and how could Guillaume refuse a command from such a good son of the Revolution?

They saddled their horses.

‘They’ve had a good start of us,’ said Jean Baptiste, ‘but we know the short cuts to Varennes.’


* * *

So the berline came into Varennes. Worn out with the day’s adventures the King was dozing; the Queen had her eyes closed but she was not sleeping; she was too anxious to be able to sleep. Not until I reach Montmédy shall I be able to feel at rest, she told herself. Then Axel will be there. If Axel had stayed with us, surely all these mishaps would not have overtaken us.