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Prussian rebels are involved.’
    Helena’s frightened voice echoed in my mind. The words that she had pronounced on the beach. Despite censorship of the papers, news from the Spanish peninsula was on everyone’s lips. The fact that it was supposed to be kept a secret made it all the more disturbing. The Spanish
guerrilla
were getting the best of the emperor’s finest. And though we might admire their courage, we quaked at their methods. Was it possible that men who wore the Cross of Christ around their necks could strike in such a manner? They went from bad to worse—hamstringing horses first, then the men who rode them. And the revenge that the French extracted was even more horrendous. There had been a massacre in Santa Maria del Cruz. One hundred Spanish women and children had been hanged. The peasant
guerrilla
might go home victorious one day, but they would find no one to welcome them. Their cooking-fires had been extinguished for ever.
    ‘Nothing of the sort will happen here,’ I had promised Helena.
    She had been silent, never once taking her eyes off mine.
    ‘Can you be certain, Hanno?’ she had said at last. ‘You think you know the French. But do you know your countrymen? I am more afraid of what our rebels may do. There will be no end to it. That’s all I know.’
    Had Helena been right?
    ‘You are a magistrate, sir,’ General Malaport emphasised. ‘By helping us, you may protect the less hot-headed of your countrymen. Innocent people are bound to suffer if violent repression of a rebellion is necessary.’
    Did he understand the risks of the situation in which he was placing me? Did he know how many Prussians had been murdered by their neighbours as they walked home after speaking to a Frenchman?
    General Malaport smiled thinly. ‘I know what you are thinking, Stiffeniis,’ he said. ‘I’ll order Claudet to set a close watch upon your family here in Lotingen while you are away.’
    He rose without a word, walked to the window, and gazed out over the market square. He was even shorter than I had estimated. Round and bloated above the waist, his legs were thin and curved like carriage-struts. There was nothing palpable which denoted authority in his physique, yet something had induced Napoleon to hand the man a general’s baton. I could only pray that it was his intelligence.
    He turned abruptly and stared at me.
    ‘If you have no objection, sir, you will leave immediately.’
    My thoughts flew instantly to Helena.
    ‘My wife is ill,’ I said. ‘I am reluctant to leave her in a state which . . .’
    The fat on Malaport’s forehead corrugated into a frown. ‘Is the lady dying?’ he asked. He was not being sarcastic. Rather, he was informing himself of the situation, and I was forced to smile. He seemed to be a man of extreme judgements.
    ‘My wife is pregnant.’
    ‘Pregnant?’ he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘I thought you were talking of something serious. Your wife has a doctor, surely? He’ll play her fool while you are away. When is the child expected?’
    ‘In a month,’ I murmured.
    ‘If all goes as I expect,’ he charged on, ‘you’ll be home in a couple of weeks. I do not see that as a reasonable objection. You will be serving France, but Prussia will thank you for it. I have already spoken to the district governor. Herr Count Dittersdorf agrees with me. You will report to Colonel Richard les Halles who is in command ofthe area, though you should consider your authority to stem directly from me. I will be keeping a close watch on the situation. In the final analysis, I’ll hold you responsible for the investigation. Do you understand what I am saying, Stiffeniis? Do as you wish, but try not to step on too many toes. A coach will be leaving for the coast at five o’clock. Make sure that you are on it.
Bon voyage
.’
    I had been dismissed.
    Yet one thing prickled me as I walked to the door.
    ‘Herr General,’ I said, turning back to face him, ‘we have a