The Adventure of Anna the Great

by Camille LaGuire

Chapter XI - Nighttime Mischief

  In the evening after my wild ride on Sea Sprite I felt on top of the world. I really had not had a bad fall. After resting a bit, and eating a full dinner, I took a walk around the palace to stretch and test out just how well I was. I was a bit stiff and sore, but nothing worse.

  It was quite late, and night had fully fallen by the time I had come all the way around and was heading back for the stable. The moon was out, though, and as I strolled along behind the palace I could see the familiar form of the marquis pacing back and forth by the stable. A moment later he saw me, and he came out to greet me.

  “Albert!” he said, joining me. “Are you feeling better?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I told you. I’m ready to take Sea Sprite out for another ride.”

  We had just then stepped into the full shadow of the stable and I could not see his face at all, but I could tell by the long pause he took before speaking what his face looked like.

  “Albert, you shouldn’t have been on that horse at all,” he said. “I don’t know what was on Bloch’s mind. Sea Sprite should be left to Philip or the older boys.”

  “I get along with Sea Sprite better than anyone else, even Philip,” I said. “He isn’t dangerous. He just got spooked.”

  “He could have been hurt too, you know. You’re responsible for more than yourself.” He sighed and shook his head.

  “I didn’t think about that,” I said. After a pause I lowered my voice. “Have you heard anything from Bartleby? About, you know, the lady?”

  “Nothing yet,” said the marquis. “I expect that will take a bit of time.”

  “Good,” I said. “I heard Tybalt talking to one of his men today. He’s got a spy on Bartleby, and another in the telegraph office.”

  “Really,” said the marquis.

  “He’s watching all telegrams to and from Bartleby, and also you and the queen.”

  “Ah. Good work. Have you heard or seen anything else?”

  “No, not really,” I said. We stood silently in the shadows for a time. “What do you think?” I said at last.

  “I fear she may be dead,” he said in a very somber tone. “If I knew that for certain there would be nothing stopping me from going after them, but I also fear she’s alive. I can’t risk that they’d kill her if I press them too hard. I wish I knew what they were up to. Whatever it is, they’re laying low.”

  “Maybe it’s a plot to kill the queen,” I suggested. “Do ya think?”

  I heard him chuckle softly, which I must admit I expected, then unexpectedly, he stopped.

  “Actually, Albert,” he said quietly, “that’s a possibility. I doubt it, because if it was that serious they wouldn’t have kidnapped the woman, they’d have killed her outright. It might be a lesser plot against the queen, or it might have nothing to do with her at all.”

  “But you said she had something to tell the queen.”

  “Yes, but what? That bothers me, Albert. We really don’t know anything at all. We have only a guess at who she is, no idea where she is, and as for the queen, well, she may have only wanted royal protection. But that,” he added, “is what makes me think Hugo must be involved. Why would she want royal protection unless from a royal threat? She wouldn’t need it from young Tybalt. He’s a crafty devil, but a local constabulary could have saved her from him alone. Hugo, though, could have got round a constabulary. No, I think the only person she could trust was an equally powerful enemy of Hugo’s, and that would be the queen.”

  “Unless she was crazy,” I said, considering it.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if she was crazy, she might think she should go to the queen regardless of who was after her.”

  “True,” he said. “Did she seem crazy to you?”

  “No. But she didn’t seem particularly not crazy either. She was upset, as anyone would be, but she could always be that way. Or she could be irrational because she’s frightened.”

  It was at this point that we heard a scream. It was not very loud and it came from above us, in the palace. The two of us moved forward as one and looked up. A second cry sounded and one of the unlit windows on the second floor burst open. A human figure swung out and crawled down the wall like a spider, using the decorative moldings as a handhold. As he dropped lightly to the roof of the portico, I realized that the thin, agile figure must be Tybalt. With a quick glance at the window he had just left, he swung off the roof and dropped to the ground, and there he stopped to lean against a column and light a cigarette.

  The marquis checked himself before he left the shadow, and put out a hand to stop me, whispering, “what’s he up to?” and glancing with alarm back up at the window. “That’s Claire Linder’s room.”

  There was now a light behind that window, but I could see nothing of the inside of the room. Below Tybalt tossed away his cigarette and dashed out into the open, all wild-eyed and in alarm.

  “Claire!” he called up at the window. Claire’s silhouette appeared at the window and tentatively she leaned out. “Claire, I thought I heard a scream.”

  “Oh, Tyb,” she cried out. “Oh, Tyb, there was a man in here.”

  “Where? In...,” he said, in seeming disbelief, pointing up at her.

  “In here,” she said, nodding. “In my room.”

  “No!”

  “Yes! He...he grabbed me, then ran away when I screamed.”

  Tybalt whipped out his sword. “Where did he go?” he cried. “I’ll kill him for you.”

  “I don’t know,” she called back, starting to whimper.

  “I say,” said Tybalt, lowering his sword. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so,” said Claire. “I’m only frightened.”

  “Oh, Claire,” said Tybalt, sheathing his sword. He took a step and made a fantastic leap to reach the cornice of the portico, swinging up and climbing the wall as easily as he had come down. Once inside the window, she collapsed into his arms, and they moved out of sight.

  The marquis snorted, and I swallowed a chuckle. I did think it was funny. The marquis, however, moved out of the shadow sharply, looking up at the window.

  “It’s about time somebody taught that young man some manners,” he said, moving toward the palace.

  “Do you think it will do any good?” I asked.

  “Probably not,” he said smiling grimly back at me. He moved on again, this time a little less purposefully.

  After he had gone I thought I should have followed him, to see the scene between the two of them. I remained behind, though, because another thought was going through my head. I could not stop thinking about how easily Tybalt had gone up and down that wall, and whether I could do it too.

  After about an hour of thinking, and walking around to survey the territory, I had pretty well decided that I could. I was just lacking in a place to climb to, and a reason why. I was considering climbing to the balcony on the third floor when I saw, well to the side of the balcony, at the corner of the floor above, a light went on. The thing that drew my attention most, however, was the unmistakable silhouette of Prince Hugo that was framed in the window. By the agitated way he moved his head I thought he must be talking to someone.

  There was a ledge that ran from the balcony to that corner, and a drain pipe that went up from there. I thought it might be instructive to listen in on Hugo’s conversation.

  Getting started was the hard part. I was not tall enough to make a running leap for the portico roof, as Tybalt had, but after a few moments of searching I found a rose trellis. It led near to the balcony, and looked sturdy enough.

  I would never recommend climbing a rose trellis to anyone. The brambles put up quite a fight, and the whole thing was not quite as sturdy as it looked. I managed well enough, once I had succeeded in laying a hold of the trellis and not the thorny stems. It was slow work, and my new livery trousers were none the better for snags, but at last
my hands reached the top of the trellis. I was up quite high, just below the third floor, but not so high as to make me dizzy when I looked down. I felt quite secure on my thorny ladder and the distance only made me feel some sense of accomplishment.

  The trellis only went up to the top of the second floor, and to the bottom of the balcony. I found myself a full five feet from where I wanted to be, for my hands were on the top rail, and that is where I needed my feet to be in order to reach the balcony.

  I climbed up a little higher, keeping my right hand on the top of the trellis and reaching out with my left. I could touch the corner post of the balcony railing, but no more.

  As I stepped up a little higher yet I found myself doubling over with my feet near the hand that still held the trellis. I would have to let go of it soon, but I still had not a grip on the balcony. I stepped up a little higher once again, wedging my feet in among the brambles and rails for more security, but that, I am afraid, was too much for my balance. I grasped harder at the rail to stop myself, but a thorn bit into the fleshy part at the heel of my hand. My hand jerked, and then I toppled sideways.

  For a moment my entire body was free of any support, save my feet on the rails, which were not under me, but in front of me. My arms wheeled wildly, reaching for any object, any solid surface to grasp. Then my left hand hooked on to something, and my right joined it. My fall stopped with a jerk that made me sway back and forth so violently that I thought I would lose my grip again.

  I had fallen toward the balcony, thank heaven, for that had been the direction I was leaning in. My feet were still wedged in the trellis and my hands had caught on to a drain spout at the base of the balcony. I hung there for just a minute, a perfect right angle between my hands and feet. I was not sure what to do, or what to think, for that matter. I was still a bit stunned. The spout was shaped like a lion’s head, and as I stared into its roaring face I could see the round pipe in its mouth. If it were to start raining the water would come smack into my face.

  If I lost my grip on that spout, I thought, two things might happen. Most likely the force of the fall would pull my feet loose from the trellis and I would crash to the ground head first. At least I would be dead in an instant. The other possibility was that my feet would be wedged in proper, and the force of the fall would only break my ankles, and I would be left dangling there all night, in terrible pain, if I did not die from shock or exposure or whatever it is people die of when left dangling by broken ankles all night. If I survived I would have a lot of awkward questions to answer about how I got up there, and if I was taken to a doctor, and he got a good look at me, I would have a lot of even more awkward questions to answer.

  That thought pretty well decided me to get out of the situation. Now that I at last had a hold on the balcony, I pulled with both my hands and feet to get an arm around the railing post. Once that was done I was able to work my feet loose from the trellis and inch my way up and at last over the railing.

  I rested a moment on the balcony, then walked to the other end, shaking my tired arms to get the trembling out of them. I was feeling a mixture of fear, exhilaration and exhaustion that left me standing there saying, “Whew!” I remembered how Tybalt had zipped up and down that wall and thought he must have had a lot of practice.

  Still, the next thought on my mind was not how I could get back down, but rather that on the rest of the way up I would be more careful. That would be easy enough, I thought as I looked at the wall. There was a nice wide ledge that led out from the balcony, and at the corner a sturdy drain pipe. I could see the pipe’s silhouette against the sky, and it had thick fasteners every few feet. They would make good hand and foot holds. The fourth floor had a ledge, too, though smaller, but it was the corner window that I was going for. I would not have to come far from the pipe.

  The window opened. I could not see who opened it, but a moment later I saw Prince Hugo lean out. Another head appeared behind his.

  “Really Uncle, do you expect the birds to be spying on us?” It was Tybalt’s voice, distant and barely audible.

  “If you had been more careful,” retorted Hugo, as I strained to hear, “we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “If I had been more....” Their voices drifted away to nothing as they left the window.

  With this fresh incentive I jumped up on the ledge and sidled along it. I was able to move quickly because of how wide it was, and the only thing that slowed me was the thought of what would happen if someone popped a window open in my face.

  At the corner I made the mistake of looking down and saw that I was now above the moat, making the ground some ten or fifteen feet further than I expected. I grabbed hold of the pipe until the slight sense of vertigo went away. I thought I had best not look down again.

  The pipe was easy enough, like a tree with evenly spaced branches, and as long as I did not look down, it seemed like a mere tree. I had never developed much fear of heights, thank goodness.

  The fourth floor ledge was smaller, but wide enough. I did not have to go far. Already I could hear the murmur of voices. I hugged the wall and moved cautiously along it until I reached the window frame.

  The side of the window nearest to me was closed, and the farther side open halfway, which suited me for I could peek through the closed side without being hampered by the swung open sash.

  They were moving about the room, which was very large, but not well lit, and I could not see them most of the time. I could only hear dimly what they were saying. Tybalt was speaking.

  “Well, if we kill her,” he said. “Dead, there’s no obstacle left—legally or morally.”

  “Sigmond is the obstacle. He’s the only obstacle.”

  “Sigmond doesn’t have to know.”

  “He’ll know.” The prince paused and when he spoke again his voice was louder, as if he had moved closer to the window. “He’s obstinate. He’s been fighting me from the start. Every single thing I do.” I had not much liked Sigmond, but on hearing this my opinion of him jumped several notches.

  “How did you raise your offspring to despise you so thoroughly?” said Tybalt with a note of amusement.

  “Perhaps you can convince him.”

  “He doesn’t like me any better than he likes you. But that’s neither here nor there. We still have this woman shut up in your closet.”

  “I think we should move her to your estate.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” snorted Tybalt. “They’re watching me. Besides, we couldn’t keep anything secret there. How do you think Mother would react if I brought another woman into her domain?”

  “You should strangle that mother of yours.”

  “Me?” asked Tybalt, amused. “Not I! You try it.”

  “I have.”

  “Not so easy. But listen. The woman’s a danger as long as she’s here. She could escape, or be discovered, or whatever. But outside of Lifbau—say exile in Africa or America or some godforsaken place like that—she wouldn’t be much of a threat at all. We could pension her off, give her a nice isolated little home with a companion to keep an eye on her. Sigmond couldn’t possibly object to that. And if she should be killed in a raid of local savages, why, Sigmond most likely wouldn’t even hear of it.”

  “And these savages just happen to number among your friends?”

  “I have a lot of friends. If you find it necessary I’m sure I can find some for you.”

  “How soon can you get her out of the country?”

  “How much speed can you pay for?”

  “Immediately. Every second she is here is a risk.”

  “A few days then. In the meantime, we have another little problem.”

  “Now what?” asked Hugo with impatience.

  “Evidence.”

  “Evidence?”

  “To her claims.”

  “We’ve taken care of the only witness, other than yourself and Sigmond.”

  “There are other ki
nds of evidence than witnesses. Think about it. Any fool can prove what she has to say, if only he knows what it is. It doesn’t matter if she’s alive, dead, or decides to keep her mouth shut. If it were to get out, even as a rumor, that would be that. On the other hand, my lady could get loose and announce it to the entire world, but without proof she would seem a fool. We could certainly prove her insane. Her wits are going quickly.”

  The sound of their voices began to fade as they moved away. I moved closer, peering through the glass to see their backs as they strolled off.

  “You’re planning to get rid of this evidence, of course,” said Hugo.

  “Me? All by myself? Of my own volition?”

  Hugo snorted. “With my money in your pocket, naturally.”

  “Now that sounds like a good idea....”

  Their voices faded just below clarity. They were moving into the other end of the room, and they still faced away from me, speaking in lower voices. I moved cautiously across the window to try to open the closed sash. That placed me where they would see me if they turned so I kept moving across to the other side. The ledge was narrower here because of the window, but I was able to hold onto the frame.

  The sash unlatched easily and I pushed that side of the window part way open too. Still I had to strain my ears to hear anything.

  “Tonight?” I heard Tybalt say, his voice raised. “Surely tomorrow....”

  The prince interrupted him with some mumbling. I moved back into the open window in frustration. The light was dim, and I thought perhaps they would not see me.

  “If you want my money you’ll do it tonight,” said Hugo, turning slightly. I thought he was turning toward the window and I quickly stepped sideways toward the shadow. Unfortunately, I had forgotten that I had partially opened the other sash.

  I ran full into the edge of it. I collapsed on it, wrapping my arms over the top of it in an effort to stop from falling. It gave under my weight immediately and swung out. Almost as I realized that my feet were dangling five stories over the moat I was past it and the sash had swung me back against the wall. It happened too quickly for me to be afraid of falling, but I had a fear of the noise it made; not much, thank heaven, for my body had come between the sash and the stone wall, but it was enough to be heard. I was certain they were already coming to investigate.

  The smartest thing to do would have been to sidle quickly around the corner, but I did not have time to be smart. I happened to look up and there I saw the cornice of the building, with its gargoyles and carvings and spouts. It was an easy climb from the top of the window.

  I used the window’s latch as a foothold to vault myself up within reach of the carving. Then, pulling at the small ledge in the cornice and pushing off the top of the window, I pulled myself up high enough to get my arms around a gargoyle.

  Just in time, too, for as I pulled my feet up and out of the way, Tybalt’s head appeared out the window. He looked down, and to each side, but not up.

  “Nothing,” he announced. “It must have been the wind. There’s a breeze picking up.”

  Hugo’s head appeared. “Someone could have gone in the next window.”

  “Not to worry. Sigmond’s in that room.”

  “That worries me in itself.”

  “Look, he wants this as much as you do. He wouldn’t have let it get this far otherwise.”

  “You had better get going.”

  “You can count on me, your Highness, as I count from your purse.” With that he pulled the window shut.

  I waited a moment to be sure they were gone. I was half leaning against the cornice, and not uncomfortable, while my lower half dangled. I moved my feet down slowly. They did not touch anything down there. I moved them around. Nothing. With the window closed I had no place to put my feet, no purchase to steady myself with to climb down, or to push off to get up any higher. I was stuck.

  I waited a while, moving my feet in a vain attempt to find something, anything, to support myself on. All I succeeded in doing was tiring my arms. I wondered if I could hang on all night. Then I heard distant footsteps. I could not tell where they came from, but I assumed it was from the balcony or the moat walk below.

  I turned my head to see who and where, but I had to lift myself up to look down and that made my position less secure. Again I was surprised at the distance to the ground. I had forgotten while I was concentrating on Hugo’s conversation. It seemed as far as the sky, and for a minute I could not tell which direction was up. That may not seem so awfully important, but you try keeping from falling when you do not know which direction to avoid, and you will understand why my head started spinning. I grasped at the gargoyle to keep from falling in any direction. I pressed my face against the cool stone, eyes closed, and vowed not to look down again.

  For the first time in my life I began to feel just a hint of panic. Usually I jump into things too fast to realize the danger, and once I realize it, it is either over with, or I am busy getting myself out of it. I had nothing to busy myself with now, though. My arms were rapidly tiring, and I did not even want to think about how far my feet were from helping me. I had nothing on my mind but that slowly growing fear, and as I hugged that gargoyle for dear life, I was too scared to even open my eyes again.

  The dizziness was clearing. I pressed my face against the stone and willed it to go away faster. The footsteps sounded again. It did not sound as if they were coming from below. I began to get dizzy again, but then I realized that the footsteps were the reason I could not tell up from down. They were coming from above me, from the roof. I was so relieved, I nearly let go. I remembered seeing people on the roof now. They used it like a balcony sometimes.

  I did not have much energy to yell, but I let out a feeble “help!” and hoped it could be heard.

  The footsteps stopped.

  “Help me,” I called again. The footsteps started up again, getting closer. The thought crossed my mind that this could be Tybalt or Hugo making one last investigation about the sound outside the window, but at the moment I would just as soon be caught.

  “Albert!”

  I mustered the courage to open my eyes and look up. It was the marquis.

  “Help!” I said with the energy of relief. He reached over and hauled me up by one arm. I collapsed onto the roof, so happy to have something solid under me.

  “Albert, what on earth...?” said the marquis.

  “Hugo’s room’s just down there,” I said, pointing, and panting.

  “So you thought you’d just have a quick climb down for a look?”

  I shook my head. “Climb up.”

  “Up?”

  “From the ground,” I said. “It didn’t go so well as when Tybalt did it.”

  He knelt down and looked at me with concern. “You did this because Tybalt did it.” I shook my head but he continued. “I thought you admired him a little too much.”

  “No...,” I said.

  “Yes. Albert, that man is destructive. He does nothing but harm. Don’t try to be like him.”

  “I’m not, but....”

  “There’s something wild in you, Albert,” he added, sitting back and shaking a finger at me. I had thoroughly upset him. He had a wild worried look in his eyes. “And you had better learn to curb it before you get your neck broken. Or you end up like Tybalt von Stenbau. Do you want to be like that?”

  “No.”

  “Nothing but harm to anyone,” he continued.

  “That wasn’t why I climbed up there,” I insisted, as he pulled me to my feet. “Listen! I climbed up to eavesdrop on Hugo.”

  “It was a damn fool thing to do,” he said in a lecturing tone as he led me off to the door.

  “Don’t you want to know what I heard?”

  He stopped and looked at me with irritation. “All right. Let’s hear it and be done with it.”

  “I think they are going to kill the queen,” I said. I know, it was
a silly thing to blurt out, but I felt exaggeration might make him listen.

  The marquis crossed his arms and tilted his head. “What exactly did they say?” His tone was skeptical and disapproving.

  “Well, they were talking about killing the lady,” I said. “And Tybalt is up to something important tonight.”

  I described the conversation in as much detail as I could. It had been a mistake, what I had said about killing the queen, but as I spoke now, I could see he was forgetting his irritation at me. He was interested and saw that I had heard something important. By the time I was done he was quite excited.

  “Good job, Albert!” he said, all enthusiasm. Then he stopped himself and started to shake his finger at me again.

  “I’m not going to do it again,” I said, before he could think of another lecture.

  “Good lad,” he said, patting me on the back. “It isn’t worth getting your neck broken.” I nodded solemnly and we rushed down the stairs to the stable.