grew over the Emperor’s tomb. His final words were specific, “My daughters should always remember that the Emperor was my benefactor and, consequently, theirs. The greater part of what I possess I owe to his kindness.”
• • •
Ashby had known of some of the items Saint-Denis left the city of Sens. The two volumes of Fleury de Chaboulon. The atlases. The folio volume of the campaigns of Italy. But a copy of The Merovingian Kingdoms 450–751 A.D.?
That was new.
Perhaps the answer he sought lay with it?
SEVENTEEN
DENMARK
T HORVALDSEN HAD COME TO C AI’S ROOM FOR STRENGTH . T HE time for resolution had arrived. He’d plotted this path carefully, planned every detail, anticipated the possible moves. He believed himself ready. All that remained was to enlist Cotton Malone’s help. He’d almost called his friend Cassiopeia Vitt, but decided against it. She’d try to stop him, tell him there was another way, while Malone would understand, particularly given what had happened over the past couple of weeks.
“Napoleon died peacefully on May 5, 1821, just after six o’clock in the evening,” he explained to Malone. “One observer noted, he went out as the light of a lamp goes out . He was buried on St. Helena, but exhumed in 1840 and returned to Paris, where he now lays in the Hôtel des Invalides. Some say he was murdered, slowly poisoned. Others say natural causes. Nobody knows. Nor does it matter.”
He caught sight of a knotted tail stretched across one of the shelves. He and Cai had flown the kite one summer afternoon, long ago. A flash of joy passed through him—a rare feeling, both wondrous and uncomfortable.
He forced his mind to concentrate and said, “Napoleon stole so much that it’s beyond comprehension. On his way to Egypt, he conquered Malta and acquired coin, art, silver plate, jewels, and five million francs’ worth of gold from the Knights of Malta. History says it was lost at sea, during the Battle of Abukir Bay. Isn’t it interesting how we title battles, as if they were some great dramatic epic? When the British destroyed the French fleet in August 1798, seventeen hundred sailors died. Yet we give it a title, like some novel.”
He paused.
“The Malta treasure was supposedly on one of the ships that went down, but no one knows if that is actually the case. There are many more stories like that. Homes, castles, entire national treasuries looted. Even the Vatican. Napoleon remains the only person to have successfully plundered the church’s wealth. Some of that booty made it back to France in an official capacity, some didn’t. There was never any adequate inventory. To this day, the Vatican maintains there are items unaccounted for.”
As he spoke, he fought with the ghosts this sacred room hosted, their presence like a chain of missed opportunities. He’d so much wanted for Cai to inherit his Thorvaldsen birthright, but his son had wanted first to commit himself to public service. He’d indulged the desire since he, too, when young, had satisfied his curiosity with a trip around the world. The planet had seemed so different then. People didn’t get shot while simply enjoying their lunch.
“When Napoleon died, he left a detailed will. It’s long, with numerous monetary bequests. Something like three million francs. Most were never honored, as there were no funds from which to pay them. Napoleon was a man in exile. He’d been dethroned. He had little, besides what he’d brought to St. Helena. But to read his will, you would think him wealthy. Remember, it was never intended that he would leave St. Helena alive.”
“I never understood why the Brits didn’t just kill him,” Malone said. “He was an obvious danger. Hell, he escaped from his first exile, in Elba, and wreaked havoc in Europe.”
“That’s true, and when he finally surrendered himself to the British, that surprised a lot of people. He wanted to go to America, and they almost let him, then decided
• • •
Ashby had known of some of the items Saint-Denis left the city of Sens. The two volumes of Fleury de Chaboulon. The atlases. The folio volume of the campaigns of Italy. But a copy of The Merovingian Kingdoms 450–751 A.D.?
That was new.
Perhaps the answer he sought lay with it?
SEVENTEEN
DENMARK
T HORVALDSEN HAD COME TO C AI’S ROOM FOR STRENGTH . T HE time for resolution had arrived. He’d plotted this path carefully, planned every detail, anticipated the possible moves. He believed himself ready. All that remained was to enlist Cotton Malone’s help. He’d almost called his friend Cassiopeia Vitt, but decided against it. She’d try to stop him, tell him there was another way, while Malone would understand, particularly given what had happened over the past couple of weeks.
“Napoleon died peacefully on May 5, 1821, just after six o’clock in the evening,” he explained to Malone. “One observer noted, he went out as the light of a lamp goes out . He was buried on St. Helena, but exhumed in 1840 and returned to Paris, where he now lays in the Hôtel des Invalides. Some say he was murdered, slowly poisoned. Others say natural causes. Nobody knows. Nor does it matter.”
He caught sight of a knotted tail stretched across one of the shelves. He and Cai had flown the kite one summer afternoon, long ago. A flash of joy passed through him—a rare feeling, both wondrous and uncomfortable.
He forced his mind to concentrate and said, “Napoleon stole so much that it’s beyond comprehension. On his way to Egypt, he conquered Malta and acquired coin, art, silver plate, jewels, and five million francs’ worth of gold from the Knights of Malta. History says it was lost at sea, during the Battle of Abukir Bay. Isn’t it interesting how we title battles, as if they were some great dramatic epic? When the British destroyed the French fleet in August 1798, seventeen hundred sailors died. Yet we give it a title, like some novel.”
He paused.
“The Malta treasure was supposedly on one of the ships that went down, but no one knows if that is actually the case. There are many more stories like that. Homes, castles, entire national treasuries looted. Even the Vatican. Napoleon remains the only person to have successfully plundered the church’s wealth. Some of that booty made it back to France in an official capacity, some didn’t. There was never any adequate inventory. To this day, the Vatican maintains there are items unaccounted for.”
As he spoke, he fought with the ghosts this sacred room hosted, their presence like a chain of missed opportunities. He’d so much wanted for Cai to inherit his Thorvaldsen birthright, but his son had wanted first to commit himself to public service. He’d indulged the desire since he, too, when young, had satisfied his curiosity with a trip around the world. The planet had seemed so different then. People didn’t get shot while simply enjoying their lunch.
“When Napoleon died, he left a detailed will. It’s long, with numerous monetary bequests. Something like three million francs. Most were never honored, as there were no funds from which to pay them. Napoleon was a man in exile. He’d been dethroned. He had little, besides what he’d brought to St. Helena. But to read his will, you would think him wealthy. Remember, it was never intended that he would leave St. Helena alive.”
“I never understood why the Brits didn’t just kill him,” Malone said. “He was an obvious danger. Hell, he escaped from his first exile, in Elba, and wreaked havoc in Europe.”
“That’s true, and when he finally surrendered himself to the British, that surprised a lot of people. He wanted to go to America, and they almost let him, then decided
Similar Books
