Reincarnated as Napoleon

Chapter 40 Flight To Varennes

?

After the resounding echoes of the Women's March to Versailles subsided, the King and his family were unceremoniously escorted back to the heart of Paris. The grandeur of their former abode had given way to the suffocating confines of the Tuileries Palace, where they found themselves imprisoned under an ominous house arrest.

In the face of an inexorable tide turning against him, the King realized that his very survival depended on escaping the clutches of the revolutionaries who held France in an iron grip. A glimmer of hope flickered in his weary eyes as his wife proposed a daring plan - one that would require him to seek refuge beyond the borders of his own kingdom.

***

Two years later. June 20, 1791, in the Tuileries Palace.

Moonlight spilled through the ornate windows of the chamber, casting ethereal shadows upon the opulent furnishings. Within this hallowed sanctuary, the royal family of France prepared for their audacious escape.

Marie-Antoinette, her countenance a delicate mix of determination and anxiety, stood at the center of the room, her eyes fixed upon the transformative task that lay before her. She clutched a bundle of exquisite garments in her hands, each one meticulously selected to disguise her identity and that of her loved ones. With each fold and fabric, she weaved a web of deception that would shield them from the watchful eyes of their captors.

Louis, his face lined with worry, approached her. He glanced at the array of attire laid out before them, his voice laden with concern.

"Marie, are you certain this is our best course of action? The people still supported us, you know? You saw that during the twentieth of February? It's a sign that not all people in France hated us."

Marie-Antoinette turned to face her husband, her gaze unwavering.

"But they were repelled, Louis. And ever since that day, the security around the Palace became stricter. There are rumors about the mobs storming into our palace. We have no other choice. Our very lives are at stake, as well as the future of our children. We must seize this opportunity."

With a sigh tinged with reluctant acceptance, Louis nodded, a flicker of determination kindling in his eyes. "Very well."

As the moon ascended its celestial path, casting its silvery glow upon the room, the royal children, Clotilde and Marie-Thérèse, entered, their youthful innocence stark against the backdrop of uncertainty. The queen knelt before them, her voice gentle yet resolute.

"My darlings, we are about to leave Paris, an adventure that requires your utmost bravery. You shall take on new identities, be my daughters no more, but young travelers seeking refuge."

The children exchanged nervous glances, their small hands clasping tightly together. Clotilde, the elder of the two, mustered a determined smile.

"We will be strong, Mama."

Marie-Antoinette's heart swelled with maternal pride, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"That is darlings," she said while hugging her children.

As midnight approached, the atmosphere in the room grew increasingly charged with urgency. The Marquise de Tourzel, entrusted with the vital role of the Russian baroness, entered, her eyes shining with both apprehension and purpose. She approached the queen, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and determination.

"Your Majesty," the Marquise said, her voice quivering, "the carriage outside is ready. We shall depart now."

Marie-Antoinette grasped the Marquise's hands, her eyes reflecting gratitude. "Okay, thank you," she replied softly.

As the final moments ticked away, the King's sister, Madame Élisabeth, joined the gathering. She took on the role of governess, a mask to hide her true identity, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

"Shouldn't we heed the advice of Sir Fersen?" Elisabeth inquired, her voice filled with concern. "He suggested using a light carriage for faster travel."

Marie-Antoinette sighed, her resolve evident in her response. "I don't want to, Elisabeth. I don't want our family to be separated."

Elisabeth persisted, her voice pleading. "But it increases our chances of leaving France. We must consider it."

Firmly, Marie-Antoinette shook her head. "I said no, Elisabeth. My decision is final. We will remain together."

Elisabeth fell silent, her eyes betraying her lingering doubts. They stood locked in a silent struggle. "As you wish."

With the final pieces falling into place, the royal family gathered before a mirror, a reflection of both their past and their future. Marie-Antoinette, now clad in a modest gown, adorned herself with a simple bonnet, her regal allure masked by the veil of anonymity. Louis, resplendent in a servant's livery, adjusted his collar with a touch of uncertainty.

Hand in hand, the royal family moved towards the chamber's exit. They boarded the heavy couch drawn by six horses and made their way to the Austrian Netherlands.

***

The moon cast its pale light upon the weary travelers as they made their arduous journey through the darkened countryside. The wheels of their carriage rumbled along the uneven road, a constant reminder of the obstacles that lay ahead. The royal family, hidden beneath layers of disguise, pressed on, their hopes and fears intermingling with each passing mile.

At Fromentiers, the horses were exchanged with an urgency that belied the need for secrecy. While the servants diligently attended to the task, King Louis engaged in casual conversation with the local peasants. His affable nature endeared him to the simple folk, their voices mingling in the cool night air. Time slipped away unnoticed as stories were shared and laughter filled the space between them.

Meanwhile, Queen Marie Antoinette, her true identity concealed beneath the veil of a generous benefactor, stepped out of the carriage in the town of Chaintrix. With grace and elegance, she presented silver dishes to a grateful local official, a gesture of goodwill in the midst of their clandestine journey. The townspeople gathered around, their faces filled with awe and gratitude, as the queen's kindness ignited a glimmer of hope within their weary hearts.

But time was a relentless adversary, its passage a cruel reminder of the limited moments they had to reach their destination. The carriages themselves demanded attention, their worn wheels and creaking frames in need of repair. Mechanics toiled diligently, their hands stained with grease and their brows furrowed with determination. Every minute spent in repairs was a minute lost in their race against fate.

Yet, destiny had other plans—

June 21, 1791.

As the royal family resumed their journey following the necessary repairs, they arrived in the town of Sainte-Menehould. It was there that a postmaster named Jean-Baptiste Drouet stepped forward, raising his hand to halt the carriage.

As the carriage came to a halt, he approached the door and rapped his knuckles against it.

The knock on the door reverberated through the carriage, shattering the fragile bubble of hope that had enveloped the royal family. Silence fell upon them as they exchanged anxious glances, their hearts pounding in unison. King Louis motioned for the carriage door to be opened, revealing the postmaster.

Drouet's gaze shifted from one face to another, his eyes lingering on the man dressed as a valet.

He furrowed his brows as he gazed at the valet's face.

"Wait…you are quite familiar sir," Drouet said as he pulled out an assignat from his pocket. His gaze flickered between the assignat and the man's face, his memory working to make a connection.

Louis, feeling a tremor of fear coursing through his veins, tried his best to maintain composure.

"What do you mean, sir?"

Drouet's eyes narrowed, suspicion growing in his gaze. "It can't be…" he muttered under his breath. He took a step closer, studying Louis intently. "You bear a striking resemblance to the King himself, Louis XVI."

Marie-Antoinette, her heart pounding in her chest, felt a cold sweat trickle down her spine. She knew that their carefully constructed disguise had been compromised, and their lives hung precariously in the balance.

Summoning her strength, Marie-Antoinette leaned forward, her voice trembling with a mix of desperation and pleading. "Sir, I implore you to show mercy. Please let us pass!"

Drouet's expression softened momentarily, his eyes reflecting a flicker of sympathy. He had witnessed the suffering of the common people and understood their grievances. But he also knew that capturing the royal family would secure his own place in history.

"I cannot turn a blind eye to my duty, Your Majesty," Drouet replied, his voice tinged with regret. "I must bring you before the authorities."

A heavy silence settled in the carriage as the reality of their capture sank in. The royal family exchanged somber glances, their thoughts entwined with the uncertain future that awaited them.

Suddenly, the stillness was shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps. The clattering of boots echoed through the night, sending a chill down their spines. The guards had arrived, aiming their muskets at the carriage.

"That's King Louis…" One of the guards recognized him. "What is he doing here? And why is he dressed like that?"

"Maybe trying to escape?" One of the guards replied.

"What do we do?"

"It's obvious, we return them to Paris."