Iron Butterflies

by Andre Norton

  I smoothed out the last of those slips again—the one which I had not seen written. The disjointed words, as I compared them carefully to those on the other scraps of paper, were, as certain as I could be, in the same painful handwriting. I read them aloud—trying to think what had brought my grandfather to make this last urgent message such a one.

  “Must be safe”—a wish for me? Yes, that I thought true.

  “Marry—arranged—” Those bore out the Gräfin’s story.

  “He will make you safe—” A husband to stand between me and the wrath of those who would have good cause to anger. Then that last scrawl—the beginning of a name? It was only a loop of line, trailing downward to the very edge of the page—as if the pen had fallen from fingers too weak to hold them.

  Had the Elector realized after we had gone that death was so close and so had made a last effort to speak to me so? Or—

  I sat very still, the papers spread out on my lap, my mind busy with another speculation, one which might mean even more trouble ahead. Suppose in an intrigue-ridden court the first scraps of paper had somehow been gathered up, concealed for a space, then passed on to those who would pay the most for them in either gold—or coming influence? The Gräf had been one sent to apprise the new Elector of his ascension. Therefore the Von Zreibrukens might be thought people well worth cultivating by some ambitious underling.

  So—with the papers to hand, the story of my night visit to the dying man made plain by the written evidence, someone else could have seized the chance to write that last one—for all its apparent resemblance to the others. The ambiguous “he” in that message—did that argue against the Gräfin’s clever use of what she saw as an opportunity to advance the Baron? Would not the name have been the point to make? Or was her mind subtle enough not to mention the name, only hint and then enforce that hint with her protestation that this was all arranged before I ever left Maryland?

  It was a very twisted skein they had looped about me. I was sure of only one fact, that I had no intention of marrying the Baron, and I determined to get out of Hesse-Dohna as soon and as best as I could. The treasure—that ill-fated inheritance—I wanted none of it. Could I ever make any of those so long bedazzled by it believe that anyone would deny ownership? The Gräfin had designed the new Elector as a weak man, easily led—

  With one hand I crumpled together those bits of paper. What could I do? Just what resources did I have? There was the gold which weighed in my dress pocket. Foreign coins unfortunately, ones to be quickly traced, but still gold. The inn Truda had spoken of, on the road to a spa, to Vienna. Only, how could I even get out of Kesterhof? My actions would be even more under scrutiny since the arrival of the Gräfin.

  Truda was my only hope. I went to ring for her, though I was not quite sure just how much of my present dilemma I might disclose to her. If it came to the point of actual escape, would her loyalty rest to my advantage or with those of her own people whose wrath might descend upon her if she gave me active aid? Never before in my life had I felt so alone and helpless as I did during those moments which seemed to strain into hours before the familiar scratching on the door heralded Truda’s arrival.

  She was once more wholly the subservient maid, awaiting orders. I beckoned her to mo, standing as close to the balcony window as I might. If there were any eavesdroppers, this place was as safe as any I could find.

  “Truda—” I still had not marshaled my thoughts, reached any decision of what I dared hope to plan. But I needed some one, so just to see her there gave me a small spring of comfort.

  She glanced at me and then at the door. There was no mistaking the meaning of that gesture. Then speaking so softly that her lips barely moved and the faintest of whispers could reach me: “Scold me—I have not done something to your satisfaction—”

  I caught her meaning. That Truda had been in any way taken into my confidence must not be suspected. I looked about me for inspiration, then demanded hurriedly why a fresh dress had not been laid out already—that I had chanced to brush against dew-laden bushes with the skirt of that I had on and must change. Into my voice I put what irritation I could summon, and that came easily enough since my interview with the Gräfin.

  Truda made no answer, but her hand went out swiftly and she laid a small bit of much-folded paper on the bedside table. Then she went to the wardrobe and brought out another dress, laid it across the bed and moved behind me to unhook my bodice. I had the paper now, unfolded it. The message inside was short, and though I had expected something like it, this was still a blow.

  “The Colonel F. has been arrested. No one knows where they have taken him.”

  So—I was alone! I did not realize until that very moment that I must have held in the back of my mind somewhere the hope that Fenwick would come to my aid somehow. Though how he could have managed that I had no idea. Very well, I must save myself.

  I tore the bit of paper into very small pieces, then held those bits out to Truda, who took them from me and hid them again in her apron pocket, nodding her understanding. Once more hooked into a fresh dress, I went to my dressing table and studied my face in the mirror.

  My reflection looked as always, I could read nothing in my expression to suggest that I had received any blow. Arrested was he? For what, by whom? No, that was no problem of mine; I must waste no time in speculating over the misfortune of the man who had in the beginning overpersuaded me into this whole affair.

  Now—I could not remain in this room, hiding like a hunted creature waiting to be pulled out of meager safety. Would it profit me to seem for a while to fall in with the Gräfin’s suggestions and play a pliable female, watching for their guard to relax? At present I believed that to be my only chance.

  “Where is the Gräfin?”

  “In the Green Parlor, gracious lady.”

  So the Gräfin kept to the upper story of the Kesterhof, shunning the dark antiquity of the lower rooms. The Green Parlor was across from my own sitting room and I headed for it briskly, trusting that my inner agitation would not show. If I could only at this moment display to the world that same imperturbable facade my grandmother used as armor in a moment of crisis, then I felt stronger. On sudden impulse I did not open the door immediately before me but went back to my own room, straight to the box which held my very modest array of ornaments and in which I had kept the butterfly necklace since I had worn it on my visit to the palace.

  A decoration, the Gräfin had said, akin to those given for valor. Very well, no one needed more such a spur to courage at this moment than I did. With steady fingers I made safe the clasp, felt the cold iron settle about my throat. So armored, I returned to face my opponents.

  For the Gräfin was not alone. Lounging beside her in a chair, his booted feet outstretched toward a fireplace which on this warm day held no shooting flames, was the Baron von Werthern. He arose at once, favoring me with a bow and a smile which was a stretch of his lips raising no farther than that. His watchful eyes fastened on the necklace. I thought I saw them widen then a fraction, but perhaps I was deceived.

  “Amelia!” The Gräfin had regained, or resummoned, all her earlier affability, jumping up and coming quickly to catch up the hand hanging by my side to draw me farther in. I did not have to watch her to know that she was seeking to read my expression, eager to know how much I had been influenced by her arguments and half threats. Now I must play my game and I greatly feared that I was not fitted for such deceptions.

  “I have been thinking.” Such a beginning was the best I could summon. “As you have said, Luise, my position here is not without its difficulties. What we wish to do, and what we can do may be two different things.” I sought words, wove them into sentences, at the present they were my only defense. “This has all come too suddenly, I cannot change my whole life so quickly. I must have more time—”

  “Dear lady.” The Baron was still smiling. “I fear our Luise, in concern for your welfare, may have been too abrupt in her disclosure of what you term
‘difficulties.’ But these do exist, and they are formidable. It is not my desire, you must understand, to frighten you, but you are a lady of intelligence, and you must be shown the facts, as unpleasant as they may seem.

  “His Highness, due to his unfortunate ailment, could not make clear to those who did not know him well his full desires. It was his misfortune, also, that he had close to him certain advisers—or favorites—who had motives of their own for keeping him unaware of what might be happening. When he sent for you he was in better health, he fully intended to introduce you formally to the court, to make you secure in every way, and leave to you the legacy of that which had given him the greatest pleasure over the years.

  “Then came the second and greater impairment of his senses. He was prisoner within his own palace. Those whose motives he had good reason to distrust were now able to surround him with such guards that his true friends could not reach him without great difficulty and then only under the eyes of his enemies. It was only with the greatest of efforts that I, who share in a small portion the same blood with him, was able to see him at all.

  “His first concern in the latter days was your comfort and safety. Having been rendered nearly completely helpless, he was much burdened in his mind, yet he was determined to see you, to gain some feeling from you. His children had been little comfort to him—his son dead—one daughter also—the other much like her mother and in no sympathy with him, Though it may be hard for you to believe this, dear lady, he was a man of warm heart. Circumstances set upon him the duty of a loveless, a very unhappy marriage. So hurt was he by what he had been forced to do that thereafter he showed his real character to very few. I am honored”—the Baron paused, his smile gone now, his eyes steady on my face—“that I was one in his confidence. It is my consolation to know that I have never betrayed that confidence nor do I so now. For it was to me that he gave the very great honor of safeguarding the one person in the world he thought truly shared a memory and a background he had loved. Your grandmother was his only true wife—this I have heard from his own lips—”

  For the first time I was impressed by the Baron. His words now meant more to me than any protestation or lure the Gräfin had delivered. He did not talk of “treasure” or inheritance, but of what I had glimpsed for myself during that one visit with the dying man—his concern for the past.

  “Knowing well what intrigue and devious dangers you might have to face without his protection, he asked oath that I would protect you to the best of my ability. He did the only thing which would make you wholly safe, arranged for you a marriage—”

  I had been lulled by his references to my grandfather’s confidence. Now I was brought up short out of my drifting along with his soothing words.

  “Sir,” I said with all the emphasis I could muster, “having suffered himself from such an arranged match—as you have just finished telling me that he did—how could he so wish me to follow the same path? You have been most kind, but as I have already told Luise—there is another way out of this trouble, and one I am most willing to take. I do not want the inheritance my grandfather left—it means nothing to me. In my own country I have plenty to keep me in comfort all my life. With the Elector dead, and my grandmother also, there is no longer any reason for my ever appearing at court—of being in Hesse-Dohna at all. My presence here was supposed to be a well-kept secret. If it remains that—do you not see all that must be done is for me to assign to the new Elector that inheritance which seems to be such a lodestone for ill feeling, and to leave as quietly as I came, with no one—save those in the original escort—and perhaps the new Elector—aware of it.”

  “An ingenious plan.” The Baron smiled again, a condescending smile which suggested that “ingenious” was not the real word in his mind—but one closer to “stupid.” “But I fear it is one which cannot be followed. His Highness’s will and ail its terms are even now made public. Unfortunately the Princess Adelaide has already become aware of what was going on and discovered all. The Princess, my dear lady, has the unfortunate temper of her mother. She also has very powerful friends. Several of them have the ear of the new Elector. They would never believe you meant what you have just told me. It would be their contention that if you were allowed to leave Hesse-Dohna, you would repudiate any promises you had made, and there would follow much scandal and trouble. It would be very easy for the Elector to take steps to see you remain here under his control. He need only write a single order and you might well be imprisoned for life! Would there be anyone powerful enough then to stand up to him and demand your release—have you any friend in what you term your own country to do this?”

  I cannot deny that he shook me. The points he made were much the same as the Gräfin’s, but the repetition of them sank more deeply into my mind and I could see the dreadful logic of his reasoning. It fitted well with those tales I had heard of the absolute power these German princes held. That the treasure meant nothing to me—how could any of these raised on the constant viewing and descriptions of its splendors believe that I was not greedy for it?

  “If you are married, then you will have a husband, as well as a powerful court faction to protect you. No such summary action can ever be taken. Also—” He glanced from me for the first time to the Gräfin.

  She looked a little uneasy. “What he wishes to tell you, dear Amelia—it is a matter of delicacy, but the time is so short that we cannot allow such refinements to confuse us. Such a marriage would be a matter of convenience only, your convenience, do you understand?”

  I felt the warmth of color in my own face. Now the Gräfin plunged ahead a little more boldly.

  “After a time, during which your difficulties are resolved, Konrad will take you abroad. Such a marriage can be easily dissolved—perhaps in your own country. You shall be free then to follow your own desire. And, since you swear you do not want the treasure, then I am sure all can be arranged—but only if—”

  “I have a friend at court,” I supplied. “This is a very difficult decision for me, Baron von Werthern. To say yes, even under the circumstances you offer, violates all that I have been raised to believe in. It merely follows a pattern which caused my family so much grief in the past. I cannot easily nor quickly answer you—I must have time.”

  “That is what is not left for us, dear lady.” Perhaps he thought that he had near won his point and, like the men carved in those hunting scenes on the walls of the hall below, need only now move in with short sword to deliver the final blow to my hesitation.

  “I repeat, I must have time.” I held to that. That his words added to the Gräfin’s had shaken me inwardly, I had to admit. While with the Colonel—but, no, there was no reason for me to look in that direction any more. Fenwick was clearly out of favor. Not only that, but in dire trouble himself. I stood alone, but I still clung to a very forlorn hope that if I were only given fraction more time, I could break out of the web.

  The Gräfin arose. “It is time for lunch,” she said as might any hostess. “Let us forget for an hour at least. Worry does not let food taste the better.”

  Unfortunately the meal set out for us was in one of the low, dark rooms on the lower floor. Warm as the day was, the limited light, the gloom here, made one shiver. I had little appetite and did no more than taste the dishes offered, though the Gräfin urged me to try a special omelet with such assiduity that I could not refuse with any politeness. The dish was savory and highly spiced. So that I had to turn to my wineglass more often than I did at any meal. At least that part of German heritage had never been mine, I had no desire to drink deeply. My two companions ate and drank their way through the courses. The Baron seemingly set himself the duty of being attentive and discussed the news of Axelburg, with speculations on the coming of the new Elector, as he might in any company.

  I had emptied my wineglass, and my thirst was not assuaged. Just now I wanted water, for my mouth felt parched, my tongue seeming to swell. There was more wine in my glass, though I was sure I had not seen
it poured.

  In fact the room was growing so dark that I wished they would light the candles to dismiss the ever-encroaching shadows creeping out from the corners. So very dark—was there a storm brewing?

  A sudden spasm of giddiness struck at me and I caught at the edge of the table, needing anchorage. I was falling— What? My last remembered sight was the half-emptied wineglass, and in my mind some warning struggled—far too late.

  Chapter 11

  It was more vivid than any dream, still I was a part and yet not a part of it. I stood unsteadily in a place so dark that the light of at least a dozen or more candles, some lamps which blurred when I turned, or tried to turn my head a fraction, blazed without making it all visible. That chill dark was a curtain, a wall, shutting me within one small space. I stood, yes, but only because of the support of an arm about me. When I strove to view who it was who held me, my dizziness became so intense I had to close my eyes quickly against a spinning whirl of lights.

  In the past I had done many strange things in dreams, danced, run, ridden, crept, merely stood to watch a myriad of weird creatures pass. Yes, this was different. The standing so was more real, my dizziness was real. I tried to speak, yet all I could hear was a croak of sound.

  Yes, I was not alone. I was aware of a second presence on my other side, though he or she did not touch me, help to hold me upright. Sickness was a sour taste in my mouth, a heaving in my middle.

  There was a third figure outlined in the blaze of those lamps which assaulted my eyes, seemed to enhance my giddiness. He—she—it appeared as a patch of black with pale blur for a face, standing directly before me. I could hear a voice, very thin and far away, sometimes fading completely. It was as if I had been brought before some bar of justice to await a sentence. I—I was in danger!

  Fear cut through the haze which enclosed me, made all clear for a moment or two. That stranger whom I had seen earlier in the garden, it was he who faced me, holding a book in his two hands, repeating a garble of words of which I could make no sense. I fought to move, to speak, and found that both actions were beyond me. The only answer to my efforts was such a wave of nausea that I would have fallen forward had not that hold on me tightened painfully, kept me still upright.