by Joan Wolf
Augustus found that he would very much like to discuss his interview with Anton with his wife. A little farther down the path there was a small garden with a fountain and a stone bench, and the Prince put his hand under his wife's elbow and steered her in that direction. Once they were seated side by side, he began to recount his meeting with Anton. He had gotten as far as telling her about Anton's threat that Austria would launch a military attack against Jura when Charity suddenly leaped to her feet.
"I don't believe it! Austria would never risk an attack on a British ally." She paced up and down in front of him once, then whirled to face him. "Did the emperor really say that, or is that just Anton talking?"
"I don't know." The Prince watched his wife as once more she walked up and down the smoothly cut grass in front of him. "He said he was speaking for the emperor, but I have my doubts. The emperor must know that as soon as Austrian troops march into Jura, Russian troops would invade Poland, and the whole territorial settlement of the Congress of Vienna would go up in smoke. No one wants that."
Once more Charity swung around to face him. "Exactly." Her cheeks were rosy with emotion, her eyes were sparkling. "When I think of the nerve of that man . . ."
"Which man?" he inquired, "Anton or the emperor?"
She shot him an indignant look. "Anton, of course. He is supposed to be your ambassador, but it seems to me that he is more concerned with representing the interests of the Austrian emperor than he is with representing you."
For some reason, he was feeling much less upset about Anton than when he left the palace. Charity looked so pretty when she was angry, and there was something supremely satisfying about seeing her angry on his behalf.
"Oh well," he said soothingly, "Anton's wife is Austrian and he has spent so many years there that I suppose his bias is only natural."
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "If that is the case, Augustus, then he is hardly the man to act as your ambassador!"
"I know that." His voice was patient. "That is why I have posted Viktor in Vienna to be my eyes and ears."
She curled her lip. "As far as the Imperial Court is concerned, Anton is your ambassador. You need to get rid of him, Augustus, and officially appoint Viktor."
The Prince frowned. It had been a long time since anyone had told him what to do.
She returned to her seat on the bench beside him. "Huh! The nerve of the man, thinking he could frighten you by threatening an Austrian invasion."
His frown smoothed out and his mouth curved into a smile. She looked up at him and smiled back, and for a brief golden moment they were in perfect harmony. Then she said, "Oh-oh, Augustus, don't move. A bug has just gone under your neckcloth." He remained perfectly still as she knelt beside him on the bench and inserted her finger under the starched white linen. He felt her finger touch the bare skin of his neck as she searched for the insect, and he gritted his teeth and shut his eyes.
As soon as she had discovered and ejected the invading bug, he rose to his feet, thanked her, and said that he must be on his way to the stable. He left her still kneeling there on the bench in the garden.
15
After his meeting with the Prince, Duke Anton returned to his palace in Julia in a very grim frame of mind. Waiting to speak to him were Count Georg Hindenberg and Marshal Jan Rupnik.
Both men stood when the duke walked in. When Anton did not immediately speak, Hindenberg demanded, "Well? Did you talk to him, Anton?"
"I talked to him." Anton came all the way into the library and poured himself a glass of brandy from a decanter set out upon a side table. "Christ, but he is a stubborn bastard! One could reason with my brother, but talking to Gus is like talking to a rock."
"He didn't listen to you?" Rupnik said.
Anton took a swallow of brandy and shook his head.
"He is a fool," Hindenberg said contemptuously. "This country suffered for ten years under a foreign occupation. What we need now is peace in order to rebuild our economy. We do not need another war."
Anton approached the other two, his glass in his hand. "Augustus informed me that he does not think Austria will dare to invade Jura."
Hindenberg got to his feet and began to pace up and down the polished library floor. "What does he know of the world? Nothing! He was seventeen when he went into the mountains, and he was there for ten years. Then, as soon as he emerged from his cave, he went to England and made this insane treaty that has so infuriated the emperor." He halted his pacing and turned to face the duke. "Such a man should not be on the throne of Jura."
Anton met and held his gaze. "Well, he is on the throne of Jura, and there isn't anything we can do about it." The duke finished the brandy in his glass. "All we can do is pray that he is right and that the emperor will not have the nerve to follow through with his threats."
A very grim Hindenberg and Rupnik left the duke's palace a few minutes later and walked halfway down the tree-lined street to the house belonging to Count Hindenberg, a substantial brick residence that had been built by the count's grandfather fifty years earlier. Directly across from it was a small jewel of a Baroque church.
The two men entered the house and went immediately to the count's study, a room that featured several fine paintings that the count had hidden successfully in a sub cellar before he left Jura a day ahead of the French army's arrival.
The chief minister and the Marshal of Jura sat down in a pair of heavy carved wooden chairs and regarded each other. Hindenberg's square powerful face looked ruthless. "We must get rid of him," he said, his words matching his look. "He is dangerous. He listens to all the wrong people."
Rupnik nodded. "He cannot be allowed to continue leading Jura along this treacherous path."
Hindenberg slammed his hand down upon the arm of his carved wooden chair. "It’s not as if we didn’t try to warn him. Anton brought him a direct proposal from the emperor, for God's sake. He could have secured his dynasty if he had agreed to an alliance with Austria." He stared at Rupnik and said deliberately, "It is Augustus himself who is forcing us to take this action."
"He has too high an opinion of himself," Rupnik said. "He led our troops into battle at Waterloo and he thinks he is a military man." He snorted contemptuously. "Jurian troops would be squashed like bugs under the foot of a giant if the emperor should decide to send an army against us."
Silence fell in the room as the two men contemplated what they were about to do. Then Hindenberg said, "We must keep this from Anton."
"Do you think he would object?" Rupnik asked.
"Anton is the type who will be more than happy to benefit from a crime so long as he can tell himself that he was not responsible for it," Hindenberg said with derision. He let his eyes rest on his favorite Dutch landscape. "Fortunately, his son is made of sterner stuff."
Rupnik agreed. "Franz has given me the name of a man in the Household Guard who owes him a favor. He recommends we use him for the job."
Hindenberg removed his gaze from the painting and returned it to Rupnik. "What favor?"
"This man fought with the Jurian army at Austerlitz, was wounded and left behind in an Austrian field hospital. Franz personally saw to it that all of the Jurian wounded were evacuated to Vienna, where they received proper care, and then he made certain that the men were repatriated back to Jura. It was through his recommendation that this man got his job in the Guard."
"Good," Hindenberg said. "This is a task for more than one man, though."
Rupnik nodded. "I'm sure this fellow will be able to pick a trustworthy companion."
"You will schedule both men for nighttime guard duty at the Pfalz?"
"Yes. I will have them put on duty outside the royal apartment. They can do it when everyone is asleep."
"We don't even have to worry about Augustus not being in his own bed," Hindenberg said contemptuously. "He does not sleep with his child bride, nor apparently does he sleep with any other woman. What kind of a man is that to lead Jura?"
"
He is not the right man, certainly," Rupnik said. He smiled. "But we will rectify that."
The following morning a member of the Household Guard by the name of Kurt asked a friend to accompany him into Julia so that he could buy a birthday gift for his mother. Once the two young men were away from the barracks and walking through the narrow streets of the city, Kurt dragged his friend Oskar into a small coffee shop and huddled with him over a scarred wooden table in the corner.
After the fat proprietor had brought them a pot of coffee and two cups, Oskar said, "All right, Kurt. What is it? You obviously have something on your mind other than your mother's birthday."
Kurt leaned forward and said in a shaking voice, "Marshal Rupnik came to see me yesterday. He wants me to kill the Prince while I am on guard at the royal apartments—to smother him with a pillow while he is sleeping!"
At first Oskar wouldn't believe that Kurt was telling the truth. "It's a joke," he said. "I am not that gullible, Kurt. You won't catch me out with this one."
But Kurt's bony face was grim, his deep-set dark eyes burning. "It is no joke, Oskar. This is not something I would joke about." Oskar finally realized that his friend was telling the truth, and his own lighter eyes widened in horror. "Jesus Christ," he said. "Jesus Christ."
"I didn't know what to do," Kurt said tensely. "If I had refused to do as he asked, he would have had me killed to keep me quiet. So I pretended to go along with him."
Oskar, who was a big burly man with sandy hair and a scar on his left cheek, turned to look around the coffee shop to make certain that no one could overhear them. He lowered his voice even more and said, "What are you going to do?"
"I’m not going to kill the Prince!" Kurt hissed back.
"Sshhh." Once more Oskar gave a quick, hunted look over his shoulder. "Of course you are not going to kill the Prince." He rubbed his nose. "What did Rupnik say exactly?"
"That the Prince's treaty with England was going to cause Austria to attack us and he said that is why it is my patriotic duty to eliminate Augustus."
Oskar rubbed his nose again. "Do you think Rupnik is right about Austria?"
Kurt's voice rose slightly. "I don't know if he is right or not. All I know is that for ten years Augustus fought for Jura while Rupnik sat on his arse in England."
"Shhh!" Oskar said frantically.
Kurt looked over his companion's shoulder at the others in the coffee house. "No one is paying the slightest bit of attention to us."
"How did Rupnik come to choose you?" Oskar asked.
"He knew that I was one of the men Count Adamov helped after Austerlitz and he apparently believes that I would like to see Franz become prince one day."
Oskar fingered the scar on his cheek. "Do you think the count is involved in this plot?"
"Of course not," Kurt said contemptuously. "Franz and Augustus are good friends. I don't think Duke Anton is involved either. It is just Rupnik. I think he’s afraid of actually having to lead the army into battle. He certainly did a wretched job of it at Austerlitz." At last he drank some of the coffee that had been sitting untouched in his cup. "He promised me a lieutenancy, Oskar. He thinks he can buy me."
Both guardsmen drank their coffee.
"You realize that if we don't do the job, the marshal will find someone who will," Kurt said at last.
"We?"
"You have to help me," Kurt said tersely. "I can't deal with this on my own."
Oskar sighed. "I suppose not." Once again his hand touched his scarred cheek. "I fought with Augustus at Waterloo. He even spoke to me individually before the battle. I like him."
"We must warn him," Kurt said. "Who knows what other plans Rupnik may have made? For all we know, we are not the only assassins he has employed."
Oskar blew out his breath. "How do we warn him? What chance do you and I have to approach the Prince? We can hardly present ourselves at the front door of the Pfalz and ask to speak to him."
Kurt stared in silence at the coffee cup in his thin, bony hand. At last he said, "If we don't have access to the Prince we must talk to someone who has."
"Who?"
"I think Baron Hindenberg is our best choice," Kurt replied. "He is Augustus's chief minister and his house is right here in Julia."
"Some more coffee?" the shopkeeper called from behind his counter.
"No, thank you."
The two young men looked at each other.
"We should go to see Hindenberg now," Kurt said.
Oskar nodded somberly.
Very slowly both guardsmen got to their feet and made their way to the door.
Count Hindenberg was preparing to leave his palace to make a call upon the Austrian ambassador when he was approached by his secretary with the news that two men from the Household Guard were at the door asking to speak to him.
"I would not bother you with this request, my lord," his secretary apologized, "but these men appear to be in great distress. They said it was a matter of life and death."
Hindenberg felt a chill go down his spine. "Did you get the names of these guards?"
"Yes, my lord. Kurt and Oskar."
God in heaven, Hindenberg thought in horror as he recognized the first name. Abruptly he pulled off the gloves he had just finished putting on and said, "You may bring them to the anteroom, Grasse."
"Yes, my lord."
An hour after his interview with Kurt and Oskar, Hindenberg was sitting in the marshal's elegant office recounting what had happened. "Apparently Franz was wrong about the loyalty of his friend," he concluded sarcastically.
Rupnik's face looked even gaunter than usual.
Hindenberg went on: "The friend he has dragged into this is a veteran of Waterloo who admires Augustus greatly."
Rupnik swore.
The marshal's office was in one of the more extravagant rococo palaces in Jura, which for the last fifty years had been used as an office building for the Jurian military establishment. The two men were standing close together near the wall farthest from the door, and their voices were pitched very low. Rupnik asked the crucial question, "Have they told anyone else?"
"No."
"You are certain?"
"I made certain." Hindenberg's hard eyes held an ironic expression. "They came to me because they knew I could get the Prince's ear in a hurry. I told them that I would take care of it, that they should tell no one else."
"Then . . . it's a problem, of course, but we can rectify it," Rupnik said.
Hindenberg agreed. "We will have to kill them, of course."
Someone knocked upon the marshal's closed door and both men jumped.
"What is it?" Rupnik called in a voice that was too loud.
"I have that report you wanted, Marshal." The voice of Rupnik's secretary came clearly through the shut door.
"Later," Rupnik said.
Both men strained their ears to hear the sound of footsteps going away from the door. When all was quiet once more, Hindenberg said doubtfully, "Can you arrange to have them killed?"
"Certainly." Rupnik's voice was almost casual. "One can always hire an assassin for a small job such as that. It is finding someone who is willing to assassinate a prince that is more difficult."
"I don't think I would try using the Household Guard again," Hindenberg snapped.
Rupnik's hooded eyes fixed themselves on the chief minister's face. He said slowly, "This might be a job we will have to do ourselves."
Hindenberg shook his head. "It's too dangerous. Always make sure there is at least one dupe between you and the crime."
Later that same afternoon, Kurt and Oskar huddled together in a secluded corner of the stables that were attached to the Household Guard barracks. Their hiding place was concealed from the rest of the stable by a wall of baled hay, but they kept their voices to a low murmur so that they would not be heard.
"I don't think Hindenberg has done anything to warn the Prince," Kurt said. His face was white and tense looking in the dim stable light. "He's had the w
hole day and no one has sent for us to testify."
From the other side of the barrier of hay came the thud, thud, thud of a hoof kicking at a wooden stall door. "Stop that, Cesar!" a groom yelled.
"What if he isn't going to say anything?" Kurt asked.
The two men looked at each other and found in the other's apprehensive eyes a confirmation of his own deepest fears.
Oskar wet his lips. "What if Hindenberg is in the plot with Rupnik?"
The strain on Kurt's face deepened. "I am beginning to think that he must be. What other reason would account for his delay in warning the Prince? This is not something one takes one's time about."
Thud, thud, thud came the hoof again.
"If that stallion comes up lame tomorrow, the Marshall will have our heads," a groom grumbled.
"He wants his supper," another voice said.
"It's too early. Better take him out into the stableyard and walk him around for a bit."
There came the sound of a stall door opening. "Look at that! The brute tried to bite me!"
"The horse is as miserable as his master," the first voice agreed.
Kurt and Oskar listened to the sound of the animal's hooves going up the aisle.
Oskar said, "If the two of them are in it together, then our lives aren't worth a single mark."
"I know."
Oskar smashed his fist into the baled hay. "The only way we can save ourselves now is to warn the Prince."
"But how?" A nerve twitched in Kurt's lean cheek. "We don't have access to him, and you can bet your pay that Hindenberg will make certain that we don't get access."
"There must be someone who can help us!"
Kurt's eyes widened abruptly and his head lifted.
Oskar saw the change. "What is it?"
"If we can't see the Prince, perhaps we can see the Princess," Kurt said.
Both men had done escort duty for the Princess when she left the Pfalz to go into Jura or to pay visits to local villages. "If we can get her attention, she will listen to us," Kurt said hopefully.
"How do we go about getting her attention?"
"I know that she rides every morning with Lord Louis," Kurt said. "If we get into the Pfalz stable area tomorrow morning, perhaps we can find a way to talk to her."
