ELLEN’S GOLD BY JAMES WALKER
 

    It is 1904. A letter is found hidden in an old book describing the burial in a ravine of a treasure taken from Moscow in 1812. The drama unfolds with the advance of Napoleon’s grand army into Russia, and relates its terrible retreat through the eyes of Michael Korsowski, a Polish cavalry officer. Meanwhile, the heroine of the tale, Ellen Charpentier, waits and hopes for his deliverance. After the discovery of the treasure, those who survive the retreat do so in the expectation of being able to share it. However, more suffering and death await them during the campaign of 1813 that brings Napoleon’s Empire to its knees. To safeguard the treasure, Michael and a few fellow survivors bury it. Michael then nearly dies of typhus, and on what he believes to be his death bed writes the letter that is to survive untouched until 1904, as it is never sent to its intended destination.
    Michael’s aide-de-camp, Piotr Florentin, betrays him after initially saving his life. Michael retrieves the treasure before he can, and when he offers him a far smaller share of its value than he believes he deserves, he decides with the help of an accomplice, to kidnap Ellen and hold her to ransom. A quantity of gold is handed over to secure her release, but the accomplice murders Florentin and tries to flee the country with the gold. Following a duel in which he is about to kill Michael, he is shot dead by Michael’s rival for Ellen’s affections, George Dupont. Then, After fighting at Waterloo, and warn out by his wounds, Michael dies in early 1816, leaving Ellen pregnant, and she almost dies in child birth. Fortunately, she has the services of an able physician, who successfully performs a caesarean operation, which she and the baby both survive. Some while later she marries George. Again it is 1904 and the letter is sent on a journey that will take it to the French Embassy in London.
    A real letter did reach the Embassy that year. It could have been a clever hoax, but who can say for sure. The ravine still exists and some of the events of 1813 are accurately described in the letter on old enough paper to date from the Napoleonic era.
 

 PROLOGUE

Erfurt Germany 1904

    “Good afternoon Frau Paulsen. It is a pleasure to meet you again.”
    The elderly lady of the house was dressed all in black. She smiled a little at her visitor, and stood to one side to allow him to enter her large hallway. “Do come in Herr Kelber.”
    “What a fine house you have Frau Paulsen. Have you lived here for many years?”
    “Almost fifty,” she responded proudly. “I moved here when I married my late husband.”
    “Really, that’s a long time.” Max Kelber sounded genuinely impressed.
    Max was a good natured, jovial individual, who had grown fat and red faced on good food and wine and little exercise. As he spoke he mopped his brow with a handkerchief. The walk from his shop, although not all that far, had quite worn him out. A bookseller in his late fifties, he was grateful for being able to derive a living from his trade. He still enjoyed the anticipation of examining books that he had not previously seen, and had been looking forward all morning to his visit.
    Frau Paulsen had recently visited his shop to inform him that she had a library with a large collection of books. She told him without giving any reason that she had decided to dispose of as much of it as he might be interested in. It was a task that he was used to being asked to undertake. Whilst most of the books he examined were likely to be of no great value or interest, occasionally he could come across something quite special.
    Built in the Baroque style, the house was more than two centuries old. He was impressed by both its proportions and the character of its interior, but as he entered its library with its shelves of neatly stacked books, and he began to look through them, he was rather disappointed by their quality. Then, on close inspection, tucked away out of sight behind some larger tomes, he happened to notice an edition of Latin letters by a number of ancient authors, with the original text and its German translation facing each other on opposite pages.
    From its cover it was apparent that the book had been published in Augsburg in 1784. It was so dusty that he wondered if it had gone unread and forgotten for nearly as long. What intrigued him about it though were the words written in English across the cover “two times eight,” not once but three times. It seemed very strange, and when he began to thumb through the book he also discovered the words, again in English, “10 times 10” had been written on a couple of pages. It also looked as if these pages had been glued together and then pulled apart. Further on still he discovered that two pages had been cut out of the book. Then, most surprisingly, he came across a drawing on a blank page. It was clearly a crude map of a locality, which meant nothing to him except that it included a road marked as leading to Erfurt.
    The book had effectively been defaced, but clearly with some deliberate purpose rather than through mindless vandalism. He decided that he would examine the book more carefully later, and added it to the pile that he was prepared to take away with him. He then offered Frau Paulsen a price for these that she willingly accepted, and returned to his shop.
    That evening by gas light he again studied the book. Suddenly, he felt something lying under a flap at the end of it. To his surprise it was a letter, or part of a letter, for there was no signature, written in poorly spelled English, and dated 13th December 1813. He could speak a little English, and with the help of an Anglo-German dictionary slowly read it through.

    “Dear Ellen, our enemies seem to be determined on crossing the river Rhine so they have put an end to any communication with France. Poor Poniatowski drowned after Leipzig, but Florentin not heavy wounded will soon make his escape. My left arm is better a little you see how well I can write. May God save us from the typhus! Hope that you received the money I sent you by Duroc- All the other treasures we brought with us from Russia were well hidden in some carriages of my horse artillery being there no other chance of bringing them to a place of security- After the battle of Leip. I quitted the large road to Erfurt and went upwarts the river Saale reaching the town of Jena Oct 21st about midnigt. Here we come to another road to Erfurt via Weimar well known to me from 1806 the Prussian Hussards being at my heels - Now my darling listen carefully to what I have to tell you. Quitting the town of Jena on the road to Erfurt there is a right hand RIGHT HAND- before we come to the oil-mill a small ditch called the Swabish-Grabe- this ditch some hundred steeps upwards grows a deep ravine overgron with bushes and trees. There I came only accompanied by Florentin and some trusty soldiers -- the latter brought our boxes on horseback. In the ravine- nearly in the Head (End) of it -- found a fox or rabbits hole-in the middle border left hand-coming up LEFT Hand-enlarged it and put treasures into it stopping up the hole with large stones,earth, etc. The gold coins barrs of gold and silver, the juwels I found in a churchs cellar in Moskou all is enclosed in strong grapeshot boxes and so it can remain there for hundred years without becoming changed. If the gracious Lord would not bring me back to you, go to the town of Jena with Florentin buy the upper end of the Swabish Grabe you can make it out with my sketch and take it up all: you will be immense rich -- You will get 10-12 millions. God bless you dear Ellen!”

 

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Published by Turner Maxwell Books
 

First published 2008.
Copyright © James Walker 2008

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Warning: May contain explicit material, which is not intentionally offensive.

 Not suitable for children

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