‘I believe I do. It is one of the Knights Imperial with a position at court. We wish to ride out at once and place him into Krall’s custody, but Colonel Padfield will not give up any of his men.’
‘I see. He has a point, my dear. Sending troops into lands not under his rule would be a serious breach of etiquette. You wish me to use my influence with the Duke? It would be a great deal better to wait until the morning. The lawyers can draw up a few Warrants Extraordinary and cover them with seals and Latin phrases. They are very particular about such things. This man will be just as mad then.’ He looked at the portrait again. ‘Fascinating.’
‘I overheard Pegel ask you to give him time to get his friend away to his father’s house. That friend was Count Frenzel’s son.’
‘Yes?’ Manzerotti frowned.
‘This is a portrait of Antonia Kastner. She was Count Frenzel’s second wife.’
‘I see.’ He folded up the picture and returned it to her. ‘That boy is a trial. Come then, to the Colonel — and Mrs Westerman?’ She looked up at him. ‘Thank you.’
VI.10
The doors that led from the courtyard were unlocked. Pegel chose one at random and began moving quietly through the corridors. The place was a warren; it seemed full of sudden dead ends, branching passageways. Pegel began to feel, with a rising sense of panic, that the building was a living thing, laughing at him. When he had climbed out of the bedroom, his intention had been to ride off indignantly into the night, but then there was that fire and the name of Kastner. He could not leave Florian here alone with his mad father. He thought about it, but he couldn’t. If he could find the room where Florian was, perhaps he could pick the lock. Florian would know where to search for guns in this place. Or a way out would be a start. This corridor looked familiar … Pegel fought down his nerves and nausea and stumbled on till he found himself on some sort of gallery looking down and into a room on the opposite side of another courtyard. He saw the Count cross the window. He was dancing with a young woman and smiling at her. The look on his face was one of such intense happiness, Pegel felt his heart contract. The old glass made it hard to see her face, but she seemed to be smiling, too, the jewels flashing around her neck. The grace of her movement was clear though, as she nodded, turned, took Frenzel’s hand. But Florian said his step-mother had died. A door opened behind him and Pegel pushed himself into the shadows, holding his breath. It was Florian, his hands tied behind him. Christian was standing behind him with a pistol aimed at the small of his back.
‘Christian, listen to me! Antonia was a kind woman, a good woman — she would never want this! He is quite mad! For God’s sake, man, stop now. I shall do everything in my power to help you.’
The servant’s voice was shaking a little. ‘Honestly, Master Florian, you’ve got it all wrong. It’s true. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen! She’s coming alive. Every time, she gets stronger.’
There were tears in Florian’s voice. ‘Christian, please! It is an automaton. We saw the ones my father used to have when we were children. We both swore they were alive, but they were just machines.’
‘Not like this, Master Florian.’ Christian’s voice had grown firmer again. ‘Antonia asked for my help. This is what she wanted. She came to me, and asked me to send Beatrice to your father.’
‘So he could murder her?’
Christian frowned. ‘You’re lying! She left here rich and happy.’
‘She’s buried by the waterfall. It’s in his damn letter, read it yourself.’
Pegel wondered if he could reach Christian and knock the gun from his hand before he could squeeze the trigger. Not a hope, and he was too weak to overpower the man even if the shot didn’t kill him. Why had Florian let his hands be tied! Pegel made a resolution not to risk his life saving damn fools from this point on.
‘You’re lying. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen,’ Wimpf repeated stubbornly. ‘Now move, Master Florian. The Count is waiting for us.’
They disappeared round the bend in the corridor and, hardly daring to breathe, Pegel followed them.
‘It cannot be done!’ Colonel Padfield was beginning to sweat. ‘I can understand that in your ignorance, Mrs Westerman, you might think otherwise, but Mr Crowther, Signor Manzerotti, you are, I think, men of the world. To send a party of horse to Frenzel’s home! His estate is held unmittelbar — it is tantamount to an invasion!’
Krall was leaning against the mantelpiece, his shoulders hunched. ‘Colonel, Kinkel saw Swann leaving this place with Wimpf. I reckon they weren’t heading to Gotha but to Frenzel’s home.’
‘It is no concern of ours, Herr District Officer. The Duke made it clear that Chancellor Swann has made his own bed. The man is a traitor, we cannot risk such an action for his sake.’ The Colonel turned to Manzerotti. ‘Sir, you know — you know this is an impossible request.’
Manzerotti smiled at him, but it was not the usual cat-like smile. It was tight. Impatient. ‘Of course it is impossible, Colonel. I wouldn’t expect you to entertain it for a moment.’
Harriet looked at him in disbelief, but he held up one long hand. ‘However, I think you may find it in your power to give a day’s leave, effective at once, to a small number of your Turkish Hussars. They then would be available for hire by some other party. I think you may then find that they, on the road, hear a disturbance that takes them, unwittingly, onto Count Frenzel’s land. You may then find that by morning, Count Frenzel will be on Maulberg territory where he can, of course, be arrested at once. Major Auwerk might also welcome the opportunity to do some extraordinary service today.’ The singer turned to Harriet. ‘His name is on the list of Minervals, of course, but very, very low down on that list. Krall, you and the Major could deliver this murderer to the Duke as a wedding present. Whatever the Duke’s feelings about the Minervals, he, I’m sure, would like to see the killer of Lady Martesen in custody. It reflects well on his authority.’
The Colonel looked at him very steadily. Manzerotti sighed. ‘If you would perhaps write out a short notice of leave, and allow a gap for some half-dozen names to be filled in, and place it on the table before you return to your duties?’
‘And that would be all right, would it?’ the Colonel asked, half-suspicious, half-hopeful.
‘Yes, Colonel, that would be quite in order.’
‘You going?’
Manzerotti smiled the same thin smile. ‘I am engaged to perform again this evening. I cannot leave here without drawing too much attention. However, as Mr Crowther, Mrs Westerman and their party aim to take no further part in the festivities, perhaps they might go for a ride in the moonlight.’
Pegel followed Florian and Wimpf into a wide hallway, tiled in black and white, and watched as they passed through a medieval-looking doorway and let the door close behind them. Pegel was not at all sure what was happening, but his suspicions were dark. He had risked a great deal to get Florian out of harm’s way, and now it seemed his friend would have been a great deal safer in the custody of the Duke. There was a narrow staircase to the right of the doorway. Pegel scuttled up to a small landing with a low door leading from it, slightly ajar. He dropped to his hands and knees and pushed it open before slipping through. Voices. Deep shadow here, and to his right candlelight. He glanced in that direction and saw the top of an old-fashioned chandelier. All functional iron, where the palace lighting was crystal and silver. He was in the minstrels’ gallery of some great hall. There was a movement in the shadows in front of him and he saw he was sharing his perch with a very old man, trembling, eyes wide, staring at him.
‘Gunter?’ Pegel whispered hopefully and the old man nodded. Pegel crawled towards him. ‘I’m Pegel. What’s going on?’
The old man looked miserable. He pointed into the hall. Pegel peered through the balustrade. It was a grand room, a rectangle, high and plain. The old refectory, perhaps. He wished it were still full of nuns — he’d take any help he could get right now. Instead, at the far end of the room were two figures. A
woman, finely dressed in a rather old-fashioned style, and an old man seated on a chair in front of her.
‘Who is that?’ Pegel whispered.
‘He was always a hard man, and a bad master. But then that girl came, Beatrice. Told him he could talk to his wife again.’
‘Who is the old man?’
‘Chancellor Swann.’
Pegel swore under his breath. ‘I was afraid of that.’
Swann’s left hand was trailing. Even from the other end of the hall Pegel could hear the steady patter of his blood draining into a brass bowl at his side.
‘Father, what have you done?’ Florian was standing some twenty feet in front of the little tableau. His hands were still tied, and Wimpf still had his gun in his hand. But Count Frenzel had his arm round his son’s shoulders.
‘I have become a worker of miracles, Florian,’ he said. ‘I am become like a God, aren’t I, Wimpf?’
‘You are, sir.’
‘Every one of her enemies I kill, she grows stronger. She returns. With Swann’s blood, with his death, all is done. Tonight, my child, you will hear her speak.’ Pegel could see that Florian’s shoulders were shaking. He was crying. ‘Is the pyre ready, Wimpf?’
‘It is, sir.’
‘Excellent. I shall carry him there myself.’
Pegel turned to the old man beside him. ‘Where are the guns in this house?’ he murmured.
‘Locked away,’ he said in a hoarse whisper, ‘in the master’s study. You’d have to go through this hall.’
‘Can you get help?’
Gunter looked near to tears. ‘No one would come!’
Pegel thought for a moment, then pulled at the lining of his coat and fished out two gold coins. ‘Take these.’ He pressed them into the man’s hands. ‘Tell them if they come, there will be more. Be quick.’
For the first time the old man looked hopeful. ‘What will you do, sir?’
Pegel shrugged. ‘Improvise. Now go.’ The old man scurried away.
‘You are mad!’ Florian burst out. Pegel crept back to the balustrade. Florian had staggered away a step from his father. His face was bright red.
‘Florian! I had faith even before I saw these miracles, yet you remain blind. Try — try to be worthy of these wonders and I will be generous. But you do make it very, very difficult.’ Count Frenzel was holding a knife in his hands. ‘How you can think I am mad, when God has delivered into my hands … but you do not understand.’ With a light step he approached Swann and produced something from his pocket to bind the wrist.
‘Is he dead?’ Florian said, his voice high and trembling.
Frenzel took a handful of Swann’s hair and lifted up his chin. The eyes were dull, unseeing. ‘Swann here? No, not yet. He will be soon though.’ He sank down on his haunches so he could look into the Chancellor’s emptying eyes. ‘You see, Swann? You killed her, now it is up to you to bring her back to life. Everything fits together. All is balance. You caused her death, that of her child, and my child. But if you had not driven her from court, she would not have become my wife. You killed her with the banishment, but at the same time put her into the arms of one who could make her live again.’ He let Swann’s head fall forward again and stroked his long grey hair. ‘God is wonderful.’ He picked up the bowl into which the blood had run, then stood and turned to the automaton. ‘This is the last time, Antonia.’ He said it with such love, Pegel was almost touched. He went round to the back of the machine and bent over. Pegel’s view was partial, but he thought he saw a panel opened. ‘Wimpf, help me,’ the Count said.
The servant approached and took the bowl of blood from his master. Then Frenzel removed some vessel from the machine. Pegel could see it gleam gold in the candlelight. He untwisted it, then held it as Wimpf poured Swann’s blood into its base. Pegel swallowed; his mouth had gone very dry. Frenzel was closing the panel again. His son looked as if he was going to be sick.
‘You are mad,’ he said again, quietly. His father shrugged and adjusted his wife’s dress with a little smile of pride. Then Florian began to shout. ‘I do not care if that thing comes over here and talks to me! It can get down on its knees and tell me it is come from hell! You are still insane, Father, and your “miracle” is an abomination!’ The Count stepped over to his son and slapped him hard. Florian spat onto the floor and kept yelling. ‘You killed her! You did! You kept her apart from her son and that is what killed her; even when she was kind to you, good to you, you denied her that and it killed her! It should be your blood in there!’
Frenzel slapped him again, and Florian stumbled this time.
‘Take him outside,’ Frenzel said. He turned to the automaton and lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing it with his knuckles. ‘You see, my love? I always told you he was wilful. So soon, Antonia. The fire will burn, Swann will die, and when I come back into this room, we shall talk again.’
He turned from her, hoisted Swann over his shoulder as if he weighed no more than a rabbit and followed his son and servant out of the hall through a doorway in the west.
Pegel counted to ten, then ran lightly down from his hiding-place and into the hall. He went along the east wall as quickly as his ankle would allow, like a rat trying to keep to the shadows. He found the door to the Count’s study easily enough. There were papers covering the desk — many drawings and pages and pages of writing. Pegel had a fleeting impression of the seals and sketches. A separate table had been set up with mortar and pestle on it, next to little boxes and piles of dried plants. He found a pistol in a case in the desk itself, loaded it as swiftly as he could, then returned to the hall and approached the automaton. Now that he was inches from her, he could see that of course this was not a real woman. But the work was so fine, if she had only turned her head at that moment, he would have stepped back and apologised for staring.
Jacob put his arm around her carefully to pick her up and felt something at her waist. It was a ribbon, and hanging from it was a little collection of owls — two fobs, two pocket-watches, a flask, a pendant, a ring. Seven in all. He picked up the machine and staggered a little under its weight. His ankle throbbed and he breathed hard. ‘Sorry about this, madam. But I’m almost out of ideas.’
VI.11
The party of hussars came to a slightly disorderly stop, and Harriet urged her horse past them till she could reach the rider at the head of the column.
‘What is happening, Major?’
He nodded to the left and for the first time Harriet noted a stooped servant, staring up in fear at the great horses and glittering uniforms that surrounded him.
‘This man wants us to go to Count Frenzel’s home and help some boy save Chancellor Swann and a Master Florian,’ he said to her. He was smiling slightly. Harriet looked down. The old man held out a gold coin nervously towards her. ‘Oh yes,’ the Major said. ‘He says he’ll pay us.’
Pegel kicked open the door to the courtyard. Florian was slumped on the ground at Wimpf’s feet. Frenzel was carefully laying Swann across the framework of logs on top of the pyre. As Pegel stepped out through the doorway, Frenzel and Wimpf both turned towards him. Wimpf looked startled, Frenzel, quite calm. Ah, Mr Pegel. We thought you’d left.’ He saw Pegel look at his friend. ‘Florian is not dead, Mr Pegel. Merely unconscious. I was finding his ignorant complaints rather irritating.’
‘Get away from Swann, Count.’
The courtyard’s white walls reflected the moonlight, giving everything about the place a pale, dreamlike atmosphere. The flames of the dozen torches around the walls whispered and hissed.
‘Now, now, Mr Pegel. I don’t wish to appear ungrateful. It is, after all, thanks to you that Swann came here — a desperate man is one very easy to fool — but you shall not interfere. Go away.’ He picked up a torch from the bracket and approached the pyre again.
‘I am armed,’ Pegel said, his voice higher.
‘But not very effectively. The pistol you are holding is not an accurate weapon, you know. Wimpf’s is much better.�
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‘It doesn’t need to be accurate.’ Pegel moved away from the door-frame, pulling the automaton with him so Frenzel could see it and pressed the barrel of his gun to its torso.
Frenzel stopped. ‘If you harm her, Pegel, I shall pursue you through hell.’ He took a step away from the pyre.
‘Then let us go.’ Jacob nodded to the figure of Swann. ‘All of us.’
‘Not possible.’ Frenzel smiled. ‘We seem to be at something of an impasse.’
Pegel swallowed. Frenzel put his head on one side. ‘Even so close, your shot would be unlikely to damage the vessel.’ Pegel thought he heard something — one of the horses in the stables, no doubt. ‘So even if you manage to pull the trigger before Wimpf’s shot kills you …’ He gave a little nod. Pegel thought he heard something else. Metallic. ‘Wimpf? Please shoot Mr Pegel.’ Frenzel set his torch to the pyre; it began to crackle. Wimpf hesitated. ‘Now, please, Wimpf.’
Pegel lifted his nose: that was horses, several of them. A great shout reached them from the world outside: ‘Hoo-rah!’ and there was a clatter of hooves on cobblestones in the outer courtyard. An English voice, a woman’s, shouting: ‘There, through that arch! Fire!’
Frenzel had gone completely still, the torch in his hand and a look of confusion on his face. Wimpf shut his eyes and held the gun straight, then fired. Pegel darted behind the automaton and felt the force of his own gun exploding, pressed against the automaton’s side. Wimpf’s bullet caught it too. The roar deafened him. Pegel felt the automaton fall across him, trapping his ankle. He yelled, squeezing his eyes closed with the pain. When he opened them, he found himself staring into the automaton’s blue eyes. They flickered. ‘Christ,’ he said, and instinctively reached out and touched her cheek. It felt warm. He dropped back onto his elbows, panting.
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