And when that happened, Argenton had promised Christopher, the army would mutiny. The war had to be stopped, Argenton said, or else, like a great fire, it would consume all Europe. It was a madness, he said, a madness of the Emperor who seemed intent on conquering the whole world. „He believes he is Alexander the Great,” the Frenchman said gloomily, „and if he doesn’t stop then there will be nothing left of France. Who are we to fight? Everyone? Austria? Prussia? Britain? Spain? Portugal? Russia?”
„Never Russia,” Christopher said, „even Bonaparte is not that mad.”
„He is mad,” Argenton insisted, „and we must rid France of him.” And the start of the process, he believed, would be the mutiny that would surely erupt when Soult declared himself a king.
„Your army is unhappy,” Christopher allowed, „but will they follow you into mutiny?”
„I would not lead it,” Argenton said, „but there are men who will. And those men want to take the army back to France and that, I assure you, is what most of the soldiers want. They will follow.”
„Who are these leaders?” Christopher asked swiftly.
Argenton hesitated. Any mutiny was a dangerous business and if the identities of the leaders became known then there could be an orgy of firing squads.
Christopher saw his hesitation. „If we are to persuade the British authorities that your plans are worth supporting,” he said, „then we must give them names. We must. And you must trust us, my friend.” Christopher placed a hand over his heart. „I swear to you upon my honor that I shall never betray those names. Never!”
Argenton, reassured, listed the men who would lead the revolt against Soult. There was Colonel Lafitte, the commanding officer of his own regiment, and the Colonel’s brother, and they were supported by Colonel Donadieu of the 47th Regiment of the Line. „They are respected,” Argenton said earnestly, „and the men will follow them.” He gave more names that Christopher jotted down in his notebook, but he observed that none of the mutineers was above the rank of colonel.
„An impressive list,” Christopher lied, then he smiled. „Now give me another name. Tell me who in your army would be your most dangerous opponent.”
„Our most dangerous opponent?” Argenton was puzzled by the question.
„Other than Marshal Soult, of course,” Christopher went on. „I want to know who we should watch. Who, perhaps, we might want to, how can I put it? Render safe?”
„Ah.” Argenton understood now and he thought for a short while. „Probably Brigadier Vuillard,” he said.
„I’ve not heard of him.”
„A Bonapartiste through and through,” Argenton said disapprovingly.
„Spell his name for me, will you?” Christopher asked, then wrote it down: Brigadier Henri Vuillard. „I assume he knows nothing of your scheme?” he continued.
„Of course not!” Argenton said. „But it is a scheme, Colonel, that cannot work without British support. General Cradock is sympathetic, is he not?”
„Cradock is sympathetic,” Christopher said confidently. He had reported his earlier conversations to the British General who had seen in the proposed mutiny an alternative to fighting the French and so had encouraged Christopher to pursue the matter. „But alas,” Christopher went on, „it’s rumored he will soon be replaced.”
„And the new man?” Argenton inquired.
„Wellesley,” Christopher said flatly. „Sir Arthur Wellesley.”
„Is he a good general?”
Christopher shrugged. „He’s well connected. Younger son of an earl. Eton, of course. He wasn’t thought clever enough for anything except the army, but most people think he did well near Lisbon last year.”
„Against Laborde and Junot!” Argenton said scathingly.
„And he had some successes in India before that,” Christopher added in warning.
„Oh, in India!” Argenton said, smiling. „Reputations made in India rarely stand up to a volley in Europe. But will this Wellesley want to fight Soult?”
Christopher thought about that question. „I think,” he said eventually, „that he would prefer not to lose. I think,” he went on, „that if he knows the strength of your sentiments, then he will cooperate.” Christopher was not nearly as certain as he sounded; indeed he had heard that General Wellesley was a cold man who might not look kindly on an escapade that depended for its success on so many assumptions, but Christopher had other fish to fry in this unholy tangle. He doubted whether the mutiny could ever succeed and did not much care what Cradock or Wellesley thought of it, but knew his knowledge of it could be used to great advantage and, for the moment anyway, it was important that Argenton saw Christopher as an ally. „Tell me,” he said to the Frenchman, „exactly what you want of us.”