her voice to a purr. 'There may be a reward in store for you.'
He sealed the bargain with a laugh then he began. As he worked his way unhurriedly through the list, he was allowed to take a liberty each time, unhooking part of her dress or delicately removing an item of jewellery or even taking off a whole garment. At the end of his recitation, she stood before him almost naked, exuding a bewitching fragrance and making a visible effort to hold back her passion.
'Now, it is my turn,' she said, helping him off with his coat. 'I must tell you the source of my adoration for you.'
Berenice did so with deliberate slowness, undressing him at intervals, heightening their mutual pleasure by delaying its release until they both reached a point of explosion. Daniel could wait no longer. Picking her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed and placed her gently down beneath its richly embroidered canopy. No more words were needed. Their writhing bodies continued the dialogue in a much more expressive language. Berenice surrendered herself completely and he responded with characteristic vigour, kissing her, caressing her and filling her with the urgency of his love. She matched his ardour at every stage, letting out a cry of ecstasy when she reached the peak of her pleasure and taking him into Elysium with her. They lay panting happily in each other's arms.
'Your husband is stupid,' he said at length.
'Stupid?'
'How could any man spurn such joy?'
'Armand has not spurned it,' she said coldly. 'He is probably sharing the same joy with his mistress at this very moment. I am a wife in title only. My husband sees me as no more than an attractive piece of furniture.'
'Then he is blind as well as stupid.'
'It was so different when we were first married.'
'Were you happy then?'
'I was treated with respect.'
Berenice omitted to mention that she had been the mistress of Armand Salignac before becoming his wife after the untimely death of her predecessor. The extravagant promises with which she had been showered beforehand wilted under the tedium of domestic life. As his lover, she had been mysterious, desirable and only infrequently available. As a wife, she was there all the time, diminished in every way by sheer familiarity. Her mystery had soon vanished.
'I should never have married a soldier,' she sighed.
'He's wealthy and highly esteemed at Court.'
'But he's never here to enjoy that wealth or to take me to Court where I can share his esteem. It's where I belong, Daniel — among the ladies at Versailles, earning smiles and glances from the King.' 'Even I cannot compete with King Louis,' he admitted.
She hugged him. 'You outshine any man!'
'Does that mean I can come here again?'
'Yes — as often as possible.'
'What about this blind, stupid, uncaring husband of yours?' he asked. 'He cannot stay away from the house forever. Surely, he will return to his wife soon.'
'If he does, it will only be to pack his trunk.'
'Is he off on another campaign then?'
'Armand will leave next month,' she said bitterly. 'Knowing him, I doubt if he will even bring me back a present from Vienna.'
'Vienna?' Daniel's ears pricked up. 'Why is he going there?'
'Armand swears they will capture it in a matter of weeks.'
'Indeed?'
'According to him…'
Berenice talked about her husband with a candour she had never shown before. When she had first met Armand Salignac, she freely conceded, she had been impressed by his military prowess, his social position and his easy sophistication. He had been loving and attentive to her. Once married, however, he cared less about Berenice and more about his career in the French army, subordinating her to the fringes of his life while he sought glory in the field. When the campaigning season resumed in April, he would desert her without a hint of regret.
Cradling her in his arms, Daniel listened intently until a more menacing sound was heard. It was the rattle of a coach, turning off the cobbled street and rolling down the side of the house to the courtyard. The lovers sat up guiltily. Without warning, Armand Salignac had returned home.
They leapt off the bed as if it had just been set on fire. While Berenice ran to the door to check that it was locked, Daniel went to a window that overlooked the courtyard. He watched in horror as the coach came to a halt and a servant rushed to open its door. A bulky figure stepped out. It was clear from the deference shown to him that he was the master of the house. Daniel did not hesitate. Snatching up his clothes, he dressed himself with a speed born of practice. A hasty retreat was his only option.
Berenice reached for her own apparel, alternately cursing her husband and apologising profusely to her lover. When she glanced in a mirror, she saw how ruffled her hair was and trembled with fear. Her husband must not be allowed to see her in that state. Having put on his own clothes, Daniel helped her into her dress, trying to calm her and insisting that she was not to blame for her husband's unexpected return. The important thing was that she was not compromised in any way. He was still assisting her when there was a thunderous knock on the door.
'Berenice!' shouted her husband. 'Berenice — let me in!'
It was no time to stand on ceremony. Taking a last kiss from his lover, Daniel opened the window and clambered out on to the roof. As he searched for a way to get down to the ground, he could hear the cuckolded husband, pounding on the door with a fist as if trying to knock it down. Escape was his priority but it would not be easy. When he looked at the courtyard, now illumined by torches, he saw that ostlers were loosening the harness on the horses so that they could be led forward out of the shafts. Daniel's own horse had attracted the attention of a servant who was opening the saddlebags in the hope of identifying the animal's owner.
An alternative route was needed and that meant scrambling across a steep roof made slippery by vestigial frost. It was a perilous manoeuvre. If he lost his balance, he would plummet down to certain death. Picking his way over the tiles with extreme care, he went up to the apex and cocked a leg over it. Daniel was able to rest briefly and consider his best course of action. From his elevated position, he could see, in the gloom, the guttering that ran along the base of the roof. Long, square, cast-iron drainpipes conducted rainwater to the ground. He had to trust that one of them would hold him.
Taking his weight on his hands, he pulled himself forward along the ridge tiles until he came to the part of the house that overlooked the garden and which was obscured from the stables by a high wall. It looked like the safest place to descend. On a raw evening like that, he still faced hazards. A biting wind had sprung up and a sudden gust whipped off his hat before sending it downwards in a spiral. For an anxious moment, Daniel feared that it would land in the courtyard and be spotted by someone but, unseen by him, it swung sharply to the left and came to rest in a flower bed.
With the wind plucking at his cloak, he inched himself slowly back down the roof until his boot eventually made contact with the guttering. Daniel worked his way along it until he came to a drainpipe then he knelt down and put a first tentative leg over the parapet. He did not dare to look down. Getting a grip on the drainpipe, he brought his other leg over then swung his body across. The drainpipe was old and rusted and, even with his gloves on, he could feel how cold it was but it had a brute solidity that cheered him.
Descent was slow and laborious. Even in daylight, it would have tested his mettle. Groping in the darkness, with his cloak flapping in the wind like a pair of oversized wings, he needed all his strength and concentration. It seemed to take an age and Daniel began to wonder if he would ever reach the bottom of the pipe. He clung on tightly and persevered, sweat oozing from every pore in spite of the cold. At long last, his toe finally brushed the ground. He let go of the pipe and stood there until the fierce ache in his limbs slowly subsided.
Accepting that he had lost his horse, Daniel searched for his hat then turned his mind to the problem of quitting the city. Before he loped off, he blew a farewell kiss up to Berenice Salignac. He carried away fond memories of her. Though it had ended abruptly, his visit to the house had been, in more ways than one, very profitable.
Edward Marston
Soldier of Fortune
