On the Night of the Seventh Moon

by Victoria Holt

  “He’s always trying to take it.”

  “Never mind about the hat,” I said. “Let’s think of Dagobert. Have you any idea where he’s gone?”

  “He likes to ride out to the Island of Graves.”

  While we were worrying over the mystery of what had happened to Dagobert there was a shout from outside. “He’s here.”

  We rushed out and there was Dagobert, hatless and sheepish. He had a wild story to tell. He had been kidnapped.

  Frau Graben said: “Never mind about that now. You’re damp.”

  “It was misty,” said Dagobert.

  “So we’ll get those clothes off and you’ll get in a hot bath with mustard. That’s it. You can’t beat mustard. And some of my soup and cordial.”

  Dagobert was bursting to tell of his adventures but he was shivering with cold so he allowed himself to be immersed in the mustard bath, and it was later when wrapped in a warm dressing gown after having drunk hot soup, that he told us what had happened.

  “I was in the forest,” he said, “when two men came up to me. They had masks on their faces. One of them came on either side of me and they got hold of my horse’s bridle. I wasn’t frightened. I said: ‘Who are you. I’ll kill you if you touch me.’ So I drew my sword . . .”

  “Now, Dagobert,” said Frau Graben, “no stories please. We want to know what really happened.”

  “It was a sort of a sword . . .”

  “You know it was nothing of the sort. Now tell us what really happened.”

  “They made me get off my horse and I lost . . . my hat, and I said I must find my hat . . .”

  “Your father will want to know what really happened,” said Frau Graben, “so you’d better try to remember. And no stories about swords because you haven’t got one.”

  Dagobert regarded us soberly. “They led my horse away right into the forest where the trees were thick. It was near the lake, and I think they were going to kill me, honestly, miss, honestly, Frau Graben. And I was frightened because I’d lost the hat and the magic wouldn’t be there without it.”

  I said: “You were wearing Fritz’s hat?”

  “Well, I thought he wouldn’t mind just once . . . and I said, ‘I’ve lost Fritz’s hat. Miss bought it for him. I must find it because it’s not mine. I only borrowed it.’ And they said: ‘You are Fritz and it’s your hat.’ And I said ‘No, I’m Dagobert.’ Then they whispered together and after a long while they let me go.”

  “My goodness,” said Frau Graben, “it must have been someone playing a sort of game. There are people who think that kind of thing funny. I’d flay them alive. Frightening the life out of people.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t frightened,” said Dagobert. “I would have killed them both. I soon escaped. It was only because I lost my way in the mist that I was late.”

  We let him go on boasting of what he would have done. I was silent, so was Frau Graben.

  A sudden fear had taken possession of me.

  When the children were in bed I went down to Frau Graben’s sitting room.

  She was sitting thoughtfully staring into the fire.

  “Oh, Miss Trant,” she said, with that little smirk which always appeared when she used my name, “I was just thinking of coming up to you.”

  “What do you make of it?” I asked.

  “You never know with Dagobert. He might have decided not to come in, have forgotten the time and then tried to make excuses about masked men.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.”

  “You believe two masked men really took him away. For what purpose?”

  “Because they thought he was Fritz.”

  She stared at me in blank amazement. “But why Fritz?”

  “I don’t know. But he was wearing Fritz’s hat. Now Fritz has rarely been seen without that hat since I gave it to him. It’s possible that seeing Dagobert riding in the forest wearing it, these men thought he was Fritz.”

  “That’s very likely true but why should they want to take Fritz away?”

  “I don’t understand it. Frau Graben will you come to my room. I want to show you something.”

  When we were there I took the arrow out of a drawer and laid it on the bed.

  “What’s this, dear?”

  “It’s an arrow which was aimed at Fritz. The hat I bought him stopped its penetrating his skin.”

  “It’s one of the arrows they use for their practice.”

  “Yes, and it was aimed at Fritz while they were doing their practice in the courtyard.”

  “Who aimed it?”

  “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

  “They wouldn’t do much harm surely.”

  “In certain circumstances they could.”

  “You’re being a bit mysterious, Miss Trant.”

  “Look closely at the tip. That’s the part that penetrated Fritz’s hat. Do you notice the tip?”

  She bent over it and when she raised her eyes to mine her expression had lost its habitual coziness.

  “Why,” she said, “it’s been dipped in something.”

  “Do you know what?”

  “I’ve an idea. I remember in the old days they used to hunt the wild boars and stags with arrows. They dipped the tips in some sort of solution . . .”

  “Poison,” I said.

  She nodded. “I’ve seen them. It leaves a stain like this.”

  I felt rather uneasy. “If someone deliberately aimed a poison arrow at Fritz; if two men tried to kidnap him, what does it mean?”

  “You tell me, Miss Trant, for I can’t say.”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “Perhaps we’re mistaken about that stain. It could have been something else. The children do aim rather wildly now and then. Someone might have hit Fritz unintentionally.”

  “And then tried to kidnap him?”

  “But it was Dagobert.”

  “Dagobert in mistake for Fritz.”

  “Well, miss, it does sound a bit like romancing to me.”

  “I think these two things happening together make it too much of a coincidence.”

  “What can we do about it?”

  “We must watch over Fritz. We must make sure that any other attempt does not succeed. That hat I bought for him has saved him twice. It’s been a warning to us, or so it seems. And if we are wrong, if the arrow was just a stray shot and the discoloration was not made by poison, if it was merely two bandits who decided to kidnap one of the Count’s sons and then thought better of it, well then no harm will be done.”

  “I can see that you are really concerned, Miss Trant. You can rest assured that I will do everything I can to help you watch over Fritz.”

  A letter came from Maximilian. He wanted to see me at the royal Schloss and Frau Graben was to come with me. He thought it would be less conspicuous if we came together.

  Frau Graben was beaming with satisfaction when she came to my room.

  “A command from the Duke,” she chuckled. “I thought that wouldn’t be long in coming. We’ll leave in half an hour. Pastor Kratz will stay here with the children for the morning and Frieda’s a good girl. I’ve told her to keep her eyes on them. You can trust Frieda. It’s always a good thing to have wives and husbands working for the same household. It makes a certain stability, or that’s my experience.”

  She went on to tell me how Prinzstein the coachman had asked if there was a place for his wife Frieda and how she had decided that there was work enough in the fortress for her because Ella had developed an unexpected talent for the concocting of wine and cordials and she could make use of that.

  I believed she was talking just to tease me. She knew how impatient I was to prepare for the journey.

  We skirted the town and took the road up to the ducal Schloss. I had never been so near it before, having seen it only from the windows of Klocksburg and from the town.

  As we approached I was aware of its magnificence. It seemed to rise out of a wooded park and one wall seemed like a continuation of the mou
ntainside. Above us loomed the great towers and turrets; impregnable in gray stone which had stood against time for hundreds of years. I looked up at the Katzenturm and imagined the boiling oil tumbling down on any invaders.

  At the gates of the castle soldiers in their uniforms stood on duty. They glared at us as our carriage approached and when Frau Graben called out “Hello, Sergeant!” I saw them visibly relax.

  “We’re here on orders,” she cried and we were allowed to pass through the gates and into a courtyard.

  “My goodness,” chuckled Frau Graben, “this reminds me of old times. You see that window? That’s where my nurseries were.”

  I thought: There is a child up there now. His child! Perhaps he is watching us. He in his turn has become the heir to all this.

  Frau Graben walked with the confidence of one who knows her way. More soldiers stood at attention at the great oak door. They looked at us intently. Frau Graben grinned at them and I saw the answering response. Her position at the Schloss in the old days must have given her special privileges.

  “We’ve had orders to come here,” she announced.

  A soldier came forward. I remembered Sergeant Franck who had been present when I first saw the Processional Cross.

  He bowed to us both.

  “Will you come this way, ladies?” he asked.

  Frau Graben nodded. “And how are the children?” she asked. “And the new baby?”

  “Everything is well.”

  “And Frau Franck?”

  “Very well, thank you.”

  “Was it a good confinement?”

  “Fairly comfortable. It was because she was not so much afraid this time.”

  Frau Graben nodded. “This is the hunting room,” she said.

  I realized that. There were implements on the wall—guns and spears and the heads of stuffed animals. The hunting room in the Randhausburg at Klocksburg was a replica of this one. We went through another room and another. The ceilings were lofty; each had the old Gothic paneling and circular windows—some with window seats—looking over the town and beyond the valley to Klocksburg.

  In the Rittersaal there was a huge pillar round which had been painted a tree so lifelike that it looked like a real one. I noticed that lettering in red and green had been added.

  Seeing me look at it Frau Graben explained. “It’s the family tree. The male line is in scarlet, the female in green.”

  Had I not been so eager to see Maximilian I should have enjoyed examining that tree. I told myself that in the near future I should have an opportunity of doing so, and that my name would be added to it.

  We mounted a staircase and facing us was a door on which was painted the royal arms and the flag of the country.

  These were the ducal apartments.

  Sergeant Franck opened the door and we were in a thickly carpeted corridor. Frau Graben was invited to step into a room which she did with a grimace and I was alone with Sergeant Franck.

  He led me along the corridor to a door; he knocked; Maximilian bade him enter. The door was opened and Sergeant Franck clicking his heels and bowing smartly announced that I was there.

  Then the door shut on me and we flew to each other and clung together with that wonder which the appearance of each other never failed to inspire.

  “I had to see you,” he said at length. “Hence this ceremony. Nothing I can do avoids it now.”

  His presence banished the faint depression which my walk through the castle to this room had given me. When I had passed the soldiers at the gate and entered the great rooms I had felt years of tradition close in on me. I understood then how difficult it was going to be for Maximilian to bring me forward as his wife when his people believed him to be married to Wilhelmina. I understood then how right it was—particularly at this time—to preserve a secrecy.

  He held me against him. “It seems so long, Lenchen.”

  “A day and a night is like a year when you are not with me.”

  “It shall not be so much longer. When the funeral obsequies are over then I must act.”

  “Be careful, my love. Remember that you are now the ruler of this state.”

  “It’s a very small one, Lenchen. It is not like France, or Prussia even.”

  “But to these people it is as important . . . as important as France to the French or Prussia to the Prussians.”

  “The situation is explosive at the moment. It always is when a ruler dies and a new one takes over. There are inevitable changes and the people are wary of them. They suspect a young ruler until he proves himself to be a worthy successor to the old one. My father was popular. You know that my uncle rose against him and tried to depose him. That was at the time of our marriage. You remember Ludwig’s followers blew up the lodge at that inopportune moment. If they had not our lives would have been different.”

  I gripped his arm in my sudden fear for him.

  “Be careful,” I said.

  “As never before,” he assured me. “There is so much to live for now. My cousin has returned. He could not find Ilse. She seems to have disappeared completely. No one could give him any news of her.”

  “Could she be dead?”

  “We should have known if she had been. As soon as I can get away I shall go myself. I shall find out what has become of her and if she is alive I shall have the truth from her.”

  “Perhaps it is not so important now that we have found each other.”

  “Oh, Lenchen, how I long to have you here with me! When I ride out it is you I want beside me. You will find so much that is ceremonious. It is not an easy way of life.”

  “If we are together I shall want nothing more.”

  The meeting was over all too soon. It must necessarily be short. I realized that already his position had changed. He was no longer as free as he had been.

  We found it difficult to leave each other. He said that he would, if it were possible, come to Klocksburg that night. If he could not we must arrange for Frau Graben to bring me to the ducal Schloss, although too frequent visits would give rise to comment and he did not want people to draw the kind of conclusions which they certainly would. He wanted everyone to know that I was his wife, and nothing would content him but that.

  It was what I had wanted, but I was aware as he was of the delicacy of the matter and that we must tread with the utmost care.

  Frau Graben was waiting for me somewhat impatiently and Sergeant Franck escorted us back to the carriage.

  “Tell your wife that I’m happy to hear she came through all right. I’ve got a bottle of cordial for her. I shall see that she gets it in the next few days.”

  Sergeant Franck thanked Frau Graben; and we got into the carriage and rattled down the hillside to the town and then back to Klocksburg.

  . . .

  In the church the Duke was lying in state. I took the children down to see his catafalque which was displayed in the church. This was draped in black velvet on which the Duke’s emblem had been embroidered in gold thread. Candles burned at either end of the coffin and the church was full of the scent of flowers.

  The light filtered through the stained-glass windows and in the semi-gloom people filed past the coffin.

  The children were suitably solemn and I suspect rather relieved when we came out into the sunshine.

  People whispered together.

  “How impressive it was!”

  “Poor Carl, he was a long time dying.”

  “The Prince will have to settle down now that he’s Duke.”

  “Oh, he was serious enough. Let him enjoy himself while he’s young.”

  “Women! You all make excuses for him. Oh yes, he’ll have to settle down now. If there’s war . . .”

  My heart was touched with a cold fear at the thought. He would have to go off to fight at the head of his army. I shivered. I could not bear to lose him to war.

  The children quickly recovered from the gloom of the church.

  “Let’s go and look at the shops,” suggested D
agobert.

  “Is it present time in England now?” Liesel wanted to know.

  I answered that birthdays and Christmas were really time for presents. But there were easter eggs at Easter.

  “It’s not Easter now,” said Fritz.

  I said I would buy them all a safety hat. What about that?

  “There was only one magic one,” sighed Fritz sadly. “And Dagobert lost that.”

  “I didn’t really lose it. A troll came and picked it off my head.”

  “There aren’t any real trolls are there, miss?” pleaded Fritz.

  “Oh no, they disappeared long ago.”

  “Dagobert just lost my hat.”

  “I want a magic hat,” wailed Liesel.

  They should all have one, I said. And perhaps they would all turn out to be magic.

  So we went and bought hats—even little Liesel had hers, and the children enjoyed swaggering along with them, glancing sideways at themselves in shop windows. They laughed at each other until I reminded them that the town was in mourning for the dead Duke.

  “It’s not a real mourning,” Dagobert told me, “because there’s a new Duke. He’s my uncle in a way.”

  “Mine too,” said Fritz.

  “And mine,” insisted Liesel.

  “Of course,” whispered Dagobert, “it ought to be my Papa who is Duke.”

  “Now Dagobert,” I said, “that’s treason.”

  Fritz looked alarmed but Dagobert was rather delighted with the prospect of treason. I wondered where he had picked up the idea that his father ought to be in Maximilian’s place.

  When we reached the Schloss they played a new game, lying in state. Dagobert thought he ought to be the Duke in the coffin, but that was very dull; he much preferred the game of robbers in the forest.

  All through the morning the bells tolled. From my room I saw the flags of the royal Schloss flying at half mast; our own was lowered in the same way.

  The children were excited, though silent. They had been caught up in the general air of solemnity. Frau Graben and I were taking them into the town to see the funeral procession.

  “We’ll go early,” she said, “you won’t be able to move in the town in a few hours’ time.”

  It had been arranged that we should see the procession from the window of the inn where we had seen that other cavalcade which was to celebrate the return of Maximilian from Berlin.