Manzerotti was silent, then nodded slowly. ‘I was a cruel and unforgiving deity. But his devotion was absolute, and as you see, his faith was not misplaced.’
For some time the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing of the Chancellor.
‘Shall we be successful in sweating the poison out of him?’ Crowther asked at last.
‘It is one strategy among others, but I shall be easier when your Alchemist has examined him.’ Crowther watched the castrato take a cloth from the basin at the bedside and carefully wipe the Chancellor’s hands again, then discard the material he had used.
‘Anything of the murder of Mrs Dieth you wish to confide in me, Gabriel? As we have become so confidential? You see, I know she is not in the countryside.’ Crowther clenched his jaw. ‘Ah, not yet. I understand. It is my turn to offer you something, is it?’
He washed his hands and took a seat by the fire once more, his attitude more businesslike. ‘Very well. You know I am not here simply to fill my pockets singing for the Duke, though he is a fine judge of opera. I am interested in Maulberg, Gabriel, because over the last five years there have been a series of minor … events that have begun to look suspicious to my eyes.’
‘To your eyes, Manzerotti, or to the eyes of those who employ you?’
‘I have no intention of naming my employer, so for the moment you must think of us as one. Do you wish me to continue?’
Crowther nodded reluctantly. ‘I do. What manner of events?’
‘Nothing serious in themselves, but a pattern of minor illnesses and ailments. Nothing as violent as this, or as exotic as the other murderous attacks. Some of the victims have held position at court, others have been visitors to Maulberg on business either mercantile, military or diplomatic. I suspected, and in the past few weeks have confirmed, a pattern in these troubles.’
‘Interesting. You believe the Duke has a pet poisoner?’
Manzerotti turned towards him, and blinked his black eyes. ‘He would not be the first sovereign to find such a person of use.’
‘Have you been of such use?’
‘Tush, Gabriel. So crude! I would not tell you if I had been. I do not think the Duke himself has commissioned this poisoner.’
‘Why not?’
‘Dear man, I have my reasons. No, I think someone has been acting without the Duke’s authority, occasionally on Maulberg’s behalf, mostly on their own.’
‘Poisoners who have a tendency to be civic-minded.’
‘Occasionally. Once or twice a man with claims on the Maulberg Treasury such as Graves has become rather ill here, and left to recover their health, before they could recover their money. But one case might serve as a more typical example. An architect from the French court was passing through Ulrichsberg and was made welcome in the usual way. The Duke took a liking to him and they spent some time closeted together discussing plans for a new palace — nothing on this scale,’ he raised his hand to the magnificence around them.
Crowther put his other wrist into the thin draught and felt his blood carry the cooling through his arm. ‘You have my attention, Manzerotti.’
‘Their discussions reached beyond architecture; the Duke was observed reading books that the architect had recommended. The architect then became ill.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Yes. He recovered after some weeks, then became ill again. After that, he returned to France saying he did not find Ulrichsberg conducive to his health. He tried to continue his intimacy with the Duke by letter. He received no replies.’
‘Interesting.’
‘Isn’t it? There have been other occasions. My little enquiries have taken me far afield. Have you been to St Petersburg? Lovely city. Then Vienna. But when news reached me of a member of the court actually murdered and some rumours of the distressed state of the Englishman accused, I decided to come to the source of these incidents. It is also interesting to note, Gabriel, that Colonel Padfield has his own house and servants in town, and Count Frenzel still spends most of his nights on his own lands.’
‘The men who helped arrange the current marriage. Yet these murders of Countess Dieth and Lady Martesen …’
‘And the others. Yes, I have heard of your interest in the recent accidental deaths too. They are on a very different, how may I say it, scale. I agree. And they are of a much more recent date. The petty poisonings in which I am interested began several years ago, long before that interesting little poison book was taken.’
‘Would it surprise you to learn, Manzerotti, that there is some sort of hidden meeting chamber within the walls of this palace?’
‘No. It was built by the uncle of Ludwig Christoph. There are slightly secret passages all through the building. But it is no longer in use.’
‘It is. And Countess Dieth’s body was found there.’
Manzerotti raised an eyebrow. ‘By whom?’
‘A footman who has orders from a Major Auwerk to clean the place. He informed the Major, who put the body into one of the grace and favour bedrooms before he summoned Swann, Krall or ourselves.’
‘The Major did that?’
‘Then Swann asked to meet Mrs Westerman and myself. I believe he knew something more of that secret room than even Major Auwerk did.’
‘Fascinating. What a nest of vipers this place is,’ Manzerotti said with a yawn. ‘It makes me long for the Opera House. Well, Gabriel, now we have begun, perhaps you had better tell me everything you and the lovely Mrs Westerman have discovered.’
It took some time. Crowther could not remember when he had spoken at such length to anyone other than Mrs Westerman. At some point during his narrative, the door had opened and Harriet herself had entered the room and taken a seat quietly between them, only motioning for him to go on. He concluded with a mention of the ring, necklace and fob in the shape of owls. Then he turned towards Harriet. ‘Did you discover anything, Mrs Westerman?’
‘Only this.’ She held out a sheet of paper towards them. It was folded twice and contained a series of groups of five letters. Crowther examined the broken seal. An owl.
‘Do you think Swann learned something of this group and meant to tell us?’ Harriet asked as he looked at the seal.
Crowther handed the paper to Manzerotti and sat back. ‘Then he was poisoned to prevent sharing his knowledge? Possible.’
Manzerotti sighed. ‘Codes are such a frustration. Without the key we do not know if this is an instruction, a warning, or a request of some sort. Nor do we know if it was addressed to Swann, or found by him.’ Having given Harriet a brief account of the reasons for his presence in Maulberg as he had described to Crowther, Manzerotti continued, ‘A little club. These owls — interesting. I doubt that they are merely enthusiasts for the theatre or somesuch. Who are the members, I wonder? Shame we cannot turn out the pockets of every person at court in search of owls.’
‘A cabal,’ Harriet said.
‘So it would seem, my dear,’ Manzerotti replied.
Suddenly Harriet got to her feet and crossed to where Swann’s hip-flask sat on the mantelpiece. She nodded to herself then handed it to Crowther.
‘Another owl. So Swann is certainly part of this group,’ Crowther said, passing the flask to Manzerotti. The latter studied the engraving a moment, then set it down on the table in front of him.
Harriet remembered Swann’s muttered words in the garden. ‘And now they are being hunted.’
Manzerotti smiled very faintly. ‘It seems so. Gabriel tells me you have thought of revenge when you have seen the pantomime of these crimes. Their viciousness. I wonder if you are right. I know of many little plots and shufflings here, but that does not mean I know them all.’ He looked at his watch. ‘The moment for the triumphal return from Castle Grenzhow approaches. I think I had better remove myself from the reunion. Though I am delighted to see the handsome Mr Clode released, perhaps it would be best if he didn’t discover us here, so intimate.’ He stood. ‘My dear Gabriel, Mrs Westerman.’ He bowed. ‘Such a jo
y to spend a little time with you both. You must come and hear me sing this evening. Not only because it will give you pleasure, but I think you had better start asking who else Swann’s little clique has damaged, don’t you agree?’
Pegel examined his stack of purloined messages and rolled his shoulders. It was a simple insight, that people could not resist writing themselves into what they created, and it had been the case with many codes and ciphers he had come across in the past. He had written out the square before Frenzel had interrupted him. Now he wrote out that phrase above it. Per me caeci vident. Then knocked out the repeated letters. Permcaivdnt.
‘Well, let’s see if that’s true,’ he said, and began.
He pulled out the first of the letters and moved up and down the square guided by his keyword. The first two groups of letters were nonsense, but then the words began to unfurl. His excitement was touched with regret; the search over, his weariness was gaining the upper hand. The pompous idiots! If they’d chosen something at random, he might never have found it. The first paper contained instructions on how to indoctrinate new members to the order. Slowly. Guiding them into habits of obedience and secrecy through their readings and discussions. Offering them help, approval, admiration, friendship, punishing any who left their order with scandal and hatred. The second contained in a series of numbered paragraphs some of the philosophy that Florian had shared with him. That, to return the world of men to a happy state of equality and peace, property must be abandoned, borders between nations removed, and a group of enlightened individuals would then guide the people like Olympians. The document didn’t actually mention Olympians, but that’s what it seemed like to Pegel.
He sighed deeply and put down his pen. Surely there was no sensible man alive who would believe this nonsense. And yet … If it were revealed little by little, dressed up with the proper ritual, and when people encoded their letters, they seldom allowed themselves any great, persuasive flights of rhetoric. Perhaps these rather bald statements could be made to sound glorious in the words of a skilful orator. But could there really be, as Pegel’s master suspected, members of the Minervals in positions of real power in Europe? He started on the third sheet, and the neat little groups of letters unfurled into a name, then the name of a town and a title, then there was another … He had his answer. His master had been right.
Pegel got up from his chair and checked that the lock was turned in his door. He was returning to his chair when he changed his mind again and dragged a stool in front of it as well. As he sat down he noted that his fingers were shaking. There were Minervals in power all across the Empire — and he had the list of their names.
V.11
Harriet left Crowther to guard Swann while she went to greet Daniel and tell her friends of Swann’s illness. Their discussions were interrupted on numerous occasions by court officials knocking lightly on the door to offer their congratulations to Clode on his return and express their pleasure in seeing him. When she asked if Clode, Rachel and Graves might watch over Swann, they responded with such enthusiasm Harriet suspected that the continual exchange of polite platitudes was having as severe an effect on their tempers as it had on hers.
‘You were right to say that Clode would not want to leave until this business was cleared up, Mrs Westerman,’ Graves said. ‘We suggested to him that we could leave at once and he was most emphatic in his refusal.’
Harriet and her brother-in-law exchanged glances. Daniel was looking better than he had two days before. There was some colour in his face and he had lost a little of his hunted look.
‘Harriet,’ he said. ‘What you have told us … I — this madman did not collect my blood also?’
She put her hand on his sleeve. ‘No, I think not, Clode. He seems to be after the blood of these individuals alone.’
Daniel smiled briefly. ‘I find that oddly comforting.’
Harriet had on her lap the product of her friends’ work in Castle Grenzhow. There were a number of sheets in Rachel’s neat handwriting, each one carefully dated with a series of visits and meetings. ‘Lord, Daniel, you kept yourself well-occupied here. I assume if anything had appeared to you that was particularly strange, you would have mentioned it by now.’
‘We have written down everything, and I see nothing suspicious,’ Daniel said.
Harriet began to read more carefully. ‘You saw something, Clode. Something that made you seem a danger to this creature and his plans. I wish we knew what we were looking for.’
‘Murder will out, Mrs Westerman,’ Graves said, and stretched his arms. ‘I am going to rest for a while if Mr and Mrs Clode will take the first part of the evening at Swann’s side. Fine way for you to celebrate your reunion.’
When Rachel and Daniel entered the chamber of Chancellor Swann to relieve Crowther, they found he was not alone with the patient. Herr Kupfel had arrived at last. Clode and Crowther were still shaking hands, with great warmth on both sides, when Kupfel patted him on the sleeve.
‘I need things.’
‘What can I do for you, sir?’ Clode asked.
The Alchemist rattled off a list of equipment and ingredients in a mixture of French, English and German that made Clode’s head spin. ‘I shall do my best,’ he said doubtfully and Kupfel rolled his eyes and shuffled back towards the bed again, where he stood, staring down at Swann’s sweating, sleeping form.
‘Don’t worry, Daniel. I think it best if I go. They know me in the kitchen and gardens,’ Rachel said, a little wearily.
Kupfel turned to her with a look of deep suspicion. ‘You remember the list?’ he said at last. His accent in English was heavy, as if the words had to be spat out individually like rocks.
Rachel repeated it back to him. ‘Would you like the Creeping Jenny fresh or dried? It is just coming into flower, but I know the cook has a store from last season. She takes it for her cough.’
‘Creeping Jenny?’
‘Lysimachia nummularia.’
‘Fresh.’
Rachel simply nodded. Her husband and Kupfel watched her leave, a little open-mouthed. Crowther smiled.
Evening, and Harriet found herself once more changing her costume. To listen to music in the court, it seemed, required a different standard of dress than was thought seemly during the day. It was lucky that Dido had been insistent about the proper number of dresses, gowns, gloves and jewels that were necessary for residence at a foreign court. Harriet said so, and Dido grinned. ‘It is a pleasure to dress you up nice from time to time, Mrs Westerman. You’re never out of riding dress at home, and before then, of course, it was the mourning clothes — such dull colours.’ She put her hand over her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry, madam.’
Harriet shook her head. ‘Don’t worry, Dido. They were dull colours. James said so himself when I wore them for my father.’
‘I wish I’d known the Captain better, madam,’ she said. ‘Everyone is full of stories about him at Caveley. He sounds like a good man.’
Harriet looked at herself in the mirror. The dress was cut quite low and showed off the length of her neck and the paleness of her skin.
‘He was, Dido, and much loved by his family and his friends.’ She turned and smiled at the maid. ‘But it is just as you said before, my dear, about travel. We must make our own stories now.’
Harriet met Crowther in the concert chamber. He raised his eyebrows when he saw her and nodded in approval. Having enjoyed that minor triumph, Harriet wondered where to begin. Most of the faces in the room were strangers to her. She thought of Mrs Padfield: perhaps she might be able to offer some insight into old stories that could have driven someone to wreak a terrible revenge. Tomorrow morning, she would return to the Al-Saids’ workshop and see what other threads they could offer. She and Crowther joined the Colonel and Mrs Padfield as the company began to take their seats. They shook hands and Harriet was glad to notice the Colonel looking at his wife with affectionate admiration.
‘Lord, what a crush!’ the Colonel said, a little loudly.
Mrs Padfield put her arm on his sleeve and he blushed and said more quietly, ‘So many strangers here for the wedding.’
His wife was looking around the room. ‘Yet I do not see Glucke, do you, my dear?’ The Colonel shook his head. ‘Strange,’ Mrs Padfield continued. ‘He is such a lover of music.’
Harriet smiled. ‘That is the gentleman who keeps cats, if I remember rightly.’
‘Indeed. But he is almost as passionate about opera. He helped design the Opera House, and I have never seen a man so delighted as the day he heard that Manzerotti was coming here.’
They found their places but, frustratingly, Harriet found herself next to the Colonel rather than his wife.
The Duke entered, alone apart from his dog, and once the room had risen to greet him and all had taken their seats again, Manzerotti strolled out on to the stage and bowed. Seeing him on stage was somehow worse than sitting with him in Swann’s chamber. The leader of the opera band played a shimmering clamber of notes on the harpsichord, the violinists began a rhythm, dance-like, neat and tripping, then Manzerotti began to sing. It was as beautiful as ever. Light, dancing over the air rather than through it, a thing as perfect and fleeting as the glimmer on the crystal chandeliers. Harriet felt her lungs compress. It seemed so very wrong to take pleasure in his music, but her body simply ignored her objections as she was lifted and fell with it. She raised her fan to cover her eyes. What would it be, to know such perfect lightness?
The aria ended to the usual storm of applause, and with a bow to the Duke, Manzerotti made way for the dancers. Crowther saw something in Harriet’s expression and turned his head towards her, saying softly, ‘You cannot blame yourself, Mrs Westerman, for the effects Manzerotti produces.’
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