‘Do I really have to go on helping you? I don’t want to find that by associating with you, I end up with your blade through my stomach.’

That would never happen!’ Relmyer spoke with the utmost sincerity. But was that sufficient guarantee? ‘I swear that I would not have killed your friend,’ he added.

He had that arrogance of masters of arms who believe they can wield their blade with the precision of a surgeon manipulating his scalpel. Margont spoke in clipped tones. ‘If you take your sabre out again - even once! - on a whim, I will end our co-operation for ever. Well investigate separately and too bad if that slows us down and plays into the hands of the man we’re hunting.’

This threat plunged Relmyer into gloom.

Ashen-faced, he solemnly declared: ‘I swear on my honour that I will never initiate any other duel until this business is resolved. However, I don’t think you understand exactly what that fight represented for me. As soon as I hear people extolling the merits of a swordsman, I am riven with worry. I do my best not to think about it, to concentrate on my work, but I can’t get it out of my mind and the fear grows. Only fighting a duel and winning brings me any relief. Well, relative relief, at least. I want to be sure - no, I need to be sure - that no one will ever be able to defeat me. I have to become invincible, more than invincible. I have to become untouchable!’

Relmyer looked strained. He had revealed the very core of his being: ‘to become untouchable’.

‘If you continue down that route,’ Margont replied, ‘perhaps you will be safe but you will also be alone, because everyone will be

frightened of you. You will become untouchable in more ways than one.’

Relmyer did not respond. Margont was obviously still irritated.

‘And another thing: do you expect me to believe that you want to deliver the murderer up to justice when you would happily run a stranger through? Do you take me for an idiot?’

‘Of course not. I really do want to take him alive. Because it’s not only him I want vengeance on, it’s society’s silence too. If I capture him there will be a trial, statements, witnesses, everything will be recorded. Finally people will take notice! We will finally be able to challenge that silence, justifiably ...’

After a brief hesitation, he gestured towards the avenue. ‘So are you coming with me?’

Margont acquiesced and fell into step beside him. They melted into the crowd of strollers, street-traders and prostitutes, ‘the nymphs of Graben’.

‘I’ve organised Pagin and Telet, another of my hussars, to find out about all the boys “killed in action”,’ Relmyer told him. ‘They’re going to go to all the orphanages, except Lesdorf, of course. I’m not going to get involved personally with that part of the investigation because I fear we will not get very far with it. The man we’re hunting is too good at concealing his tracks. On the other hand, I can’t stop thinking about the military records! We’ll have to track them down so that we can find out who fills them in and therefore who could have allowed them to be altered.’

‘Unfortunately I fear that we won’t be able to,’ declared Margont. ‘Unless the Austrians have lost their minds. You would never let exact details of your troops fall into enemy hands: the size of your regiments, battalion by battalion, the identity of your officers and which regiments ... Maybe the records have been removed by the Austrian army, or maybe well find what’s left of them in a fireplace.’

Margont’s arguments made absolute sense. But not to Relmyer. The young hussar swept them aside with an expansive gesture.

At the moment that’s all we have. I can only see one way of going about this. We’ll have to go to the War Ministry and see if we can

find, despite everything, a register or document that might help us/

Lefine’s eyes widened. He could imagine mounds of files, reports, letters ... With the endless procession of wars, army numbers were growing all the time because of mass conscription and the integration of foreign contingents. Now France, Austria or Russia could easily boast hundreds of thousands of soldiers and militiamen. Bureaucracy had ballooned alongside this vertiginous growth in numbers. The bureaucrats maintained complete control and their innumerable verifications translated into millions of pieces of paper. The effectives had to be counted and recounted to establish how many active soldiers each battalion had, how many deserters there had been and what their names were, to check that each combatant did actually exist and that there were no ‘phantom soldiers’ whose pay could be appropriated by profiteers, to make sure the logistics (pay, provisions, uniforms, weapons and munitions, and billets) were correct ... This last had to be especially closely monitored because there were so many crooked suppliers and corrupt officials swarming over everything.

Relmyer was annoyed at his companions’ lack of enthusiasm.

‘No one is forcing you! But we know how slow-moving and nitpicking bureaucracy is. What’s more, the Austrian Empire is enormous: it includes Hungary, Bohemia, Moravia, Galicia, Slovenia, Croatia, Slavonia, Transylvania ... Perhaps in the middle of all these papers there will be a copy of a report or the translation of a letter that has escaped the notice of the people charged with taking away or destroying all confidential documents. Don’t forget the Austrian army did not reckon on being driven back by Napoleon. Vienna was evacuated in chaos and when everything is done in haste, people make mistakes.’

Margont looked sceptical. ‘Well, such things do undoubtedly exist ... But it would take months—’

‘Well, I’ll spend months,’ persisted Relmyer. ‘If necessary I’ll find translators for Hungarian, Croatian, Czech, Slovenian, Polish, Romanian and the dozens of other languages and dialects spoken in this monstrous empire.’

Margont responded soberly to calm Relmyer down. The French have already searched the registers. Don’t you think the Emperor has had the Austrian archives examined? Last night I asked one of my acquaintances—'

‘One of my acquaintances!’ corrected Lefine.

‘Indeed, Fernand, and I thank you once again, even if I did have to pay you both. According to this aide-de-camp to the general staff, no interesting documents relating to the Austrian army were found. So I propose another way of going about things, and if it fails, then, all right, we’ll go and drown ourselves in the Viennese archives.’

‘Another way of going about things?’ repeated Relmyer, emphasising ‘other’. He stood stock-still in the middle of the Stephansplatz. The Stephansdom, St Stephen’s Cathedral, was endowed with a single spire because the silver and the energy needed for a second one had been used to shore up the fortifications before the first Turkish siege in 1529. Behind Relmyer this gothic steeple rose up, its disturbing patchwork of stone seeming to be the incarnation of the questions and worries of the young hussar. ‘Let’s speak to one of the people who fill in the records,’ explained Margont. ‘Indirectly, of course. We’re going to have to convince someone sympathetic to the Austrian cause still living in Vienna to ask the partisans about it. Some partisans regularly cross the front line and could try to find the information we need. After all, we don’t care about the actual registers, what we’re interested in is the list of people who write them up. Now these bureaucrats must have followed the Austrian army in order to avoid being arrested and interrogated on the subject of enemy effectives. If these people understand why we are looking for this information, perhaps they will give it to us.’

Relmyer thought about this new approach, weighing up the pros and cons.

‘It will take a long time, several days probably, but not as long as my approach, I concede. Unfortunately, it won’t work. We would have to find an Austrian sympathiser, persuade him of our sincerity, hope that he accepts and that he has enough credibility to