by Oisin McGann
He made his way down to the stables, slipping quietly through the door and stroking the noses of some of the horses, which whickered softly when they caught his smell. He liked being here, just standing among the animals when he had no work to do. It gave him a sense of peace. Walking slowly down past the stalls, he came to Flash’s door. He let himself in and crouched down by the engimal’s front wheel, running his hand over its front legs. It leaned against his hand, enjoying the contact. There was no reticence now; they had become friends at last.
“Tonight’s goin’ to be a big night for you ’n’ me,” Francie whispered to it. “Life’s about to change for the both of us.”
At that moment he heard a noise at the end of the stables. Pressing himself up against the low wall that looked out onto the stable, he pushed the engimal away from him and held his breath. There came the sound of footsteps, and the flickering light of a candle passed the stall and carried on down towards the other end of the building. There had been no sound of the stable door opening. It must be the mysterious gentleman again. Francie was about to come out of hiding when he heard more footsteps. He ducked back down again and peered through a gap between the boards. His eyes had adjusted to the bad light and he saw that it was a short, slender man in ill-fitting clothes. Francie got a brief look at his face but didn’t recognize him. The stranger had come from the same end of the building, but was not carrying a light. Francie wondered if he was following the first person.
But where had they come in?
When he was sure the stranger was gone, he darted out through the door and crept down to the end of the stables. They had not come in by the big double doors; he was sure of it. Somehow, they were getting into the stables at the house end and sneaking through to go out of the side door, which couldn’t be seen from the house.
He turned to look at the wall to his left and was just in time to see a section of it swinging shut. Lunging forward, he stuck his foot in the gap and held the door open. The stones on the front of the door were real, but it was balanced so perfectly it swung easily, and with hardly any sound at all. Pushing one of the smaller stones operated a latch, and he closed the door and opened it again. When it was closed, its shape was hidden amongst the stones of the wall. He marveled at the clever engineering. Peering inside, he saw there was a stack of candles just inside the door, and a box of matches. A stone-walled passage disappeared into the darkness beyond.
Francie was itching to explore it, but there was no point. It was a pity that this was to be his last day in Wildenstern Hall. He would have loved to follow the passage and see where it went; he wondered what secrets he could uncover. But he had a job to do and this wasn’t it. He swung the door shut and heard the latch click home. He would wait a little while longer to give the lads upstairs time to fall asleep, and then he’d make a start.
Daisy crept through the stables, careful not to let Roberto see her following him. She waited until he had gone out of the side door before letting go of the secret door in the stone wall and hurrying past the stalls to the other end of the building. She reached the side door and opened it cautiously, peering out.
He was not going to get away from her this time. After hearing about Tatiana’s velocycle ride, she had decided that she too would dress for adventure. She hitched up her trousers for the umpteenth time that evening, unable to get the braces tight enough. Wearing a man’s clothes was an alien and exciting sensation. It solved the problem of trying to negotiate one of her cumbersome dresses through the narrow hidden passageways, and if she were spotted, a man would attract less attention walking around at this time of night than a woman alone. Assuming one of the trigger-happy sentries didn’t shoot her, of course.
Making sure her long hair was still piled up under her flat cap, she ventured outside and was just in time to see her husband making his way down towards the end of the huge lawn, staying close to the hedge to avoid attracting attention. She had deliberately taken some of his less flamboyantly colored clothes for this task and was able to meld into the darkness behind him with relative ease.
He was headed for the woods that bordered the southeast edge of the grounds. A lazy rain was beginning to fall, but there was still enough light from the sky to allow her to trail behind him at a distance. Roberto was normally a graceful mover but tonight he walked with a dogged purpose. Daisy almost had to run to keep up. They entered the woods along a path she did not know, the airy beech trees still allowing in enough of a glow from the moon to see where she was going, but it became harder to keep Roberto in sight in the fragmented light, as she had to watch where she put her feet to avoid tripping on the roots and undergrowth. The jacket she wore was not heavy enough and the rain was starting to soak through. It fell from the branches above her, no longer a light spray now, collecting instead in large drops that spattered on her head and shoulders and dripped down the back of her neck.
There should have been sentries somewhere in these woods, she knew. The gamekeepers were normally out on the lookout for the poachers who came looking for deer or pheasants that were bred on the Wildensterns’ estate for hunting, but more armed guards had been posted around the perimeter since the attack on the cemetery. She wondered if Roberto had somehow found a way to divert them from this area.
They followed the narrow, snaking path for nearly fifteen minutes before coming to a road. Roberto stopped here and Daisy took up a position behind a tree to see what would happen next.
They were not waiting long. The sound of cantering hooves carried down the road towards them and a rider came into sight. Daisy recognized the stooped shape by the easy way in which he handled the horse. It was Hennessy, the head groom. He reined the horse in and climbed down. Roberto stepped out onto the road to greet him, shaking his hand as if he were an equal.
“I thought you might not make it,” he said to the older man.
“The guards were gone, like you said, sor,” Hennessy told him. “Came out here ahead of you so as we wouldn’t be seen together.”
“You always have my interests at heart,” Berto said gratefully, still gripping the other man’s hand. “Well, I suppose we’d better get on with it.”
He released his grip and reached into his pocket, taking out a wad of pound notes, which he thrust into Hennessy’s hand.
“This ought to be enough,” he sighed. “At least for now. God, it’s a frightful business.”
“Life isnae always fair, sor,” Hennessy declared. “We all have our crosses to bear.”
“Indeed,” Berto replied. “You’d better go. I’ve sent the guards off—told them I wanted them to spy on the navvies, but I doubt they believed me. Probably thought I wanted to go off gallivanting with some woman, knowing the way they think. They’ll return in a couple of hours, so if you can’t be back by then, stay at your brother’s for the night.”
“Aye, sir.” Hennessy nodded and made to get back on the horse.
Before he could, Roberto grabbed him roughly and spun him round. What Daisy saw next made her recoil in horror. Stifling a sob, she stumbled away from the tree, turned and ran frantically back along the path with tears streaming down her face.
Francie heaved in a breath and nodded to himself. It was time.
He had been standing there thinking about it long enough. It would be all too easy to stand there all night and wait for the perfect moment—that moment would be when he had the balls to go ahead and do it. Unbolting the door to the stall, he led Flash out. He had been speaking to the velocycle in a low voice for the last hour, calming it and putting it at ease so that it would make as little noise as possible when he walked it out of the stable. It worked. The engimal’s motor made hardly a murmur as they crept carefully towards the side door and the lights of its eyes were dull and sleepy.
Francie’s imagination taunted him with his fears. If anybody saw them—either the lads or Hennessy or any of the sentries—he was done for. He had to escape with Flash into the night without being seen by a soul, and meet his
father by the broken oak on the crossroads in the woods. It was possible to get under the wall that circled the estate and, hopefully, past the sentries by following a stream through a culvert under the stonework. It was deep in the woods and overgrown with bushes and brambles, so he was sure it had long been forgotten about. Flash should just fit through.
When the theft was discovered, there would be no place to hide—they had to be out of the country by morning. But it was worth it all for the prize; his father would get enough money for this engimal to make them all rich. Francie had thought the oul’ fella was mad for thinking of it, but things had changed now that Francie and the engimal had made friends.
Francie felt in his pocket for the envelope Shay had given him. He had given it serious consideration and had decided to disobey his father on this one. It was bad enough that they were stealing Nathaniel Wildenstern’s pride and joy; there was no need to rub salt in the wound. The letter would be staying in his pocket until he had a quiet moment to get rid of it safely.
Francie stopped before the door just long enough to fit Flash’s saddle and then lifted the latch. The door was well oiled and opened without a squeak. He peered out into the darkness. The sky was cloudy and there was a light rain falling, but he could see well enough. Flash tucked in its horns to get through the door, and together they made their way slowly along the hedge towards the woods.
As they reached the edge of the trees, Francie heard heavy breathing, what could almost have been sobbing, coming towards them. Looking around desperately, he pulled Flash towards some bushes and quickly but gently coaxed the machine to lie down behind them. His heart racing, he watched through the foliage until he saw a figure run past. It was the second man he had seen sneaking through the stable. Francie could swear the fellow was crying. There was no time to wonder what it was all about. If the man was out here without clearance and was spotted by the guards, they’d be all over this place like a rash. Francie had to get out of here as soon as he could.
Pulling Flash onto its feet, he looked into its face.
“Now listen up, lad,” he whispered. “We’re going to ride out of here now, but I need yeh to be quiet. D’yeh understand? And I need yeh to keep yer eyes dull, Flash. No lights, d’yeh get me?”
The engimal rubbed its head against his hand and he took that to mean it understood him. They would find out soon enough. Climbing into the saddle, he patted the velocycle’s head and tapped his heels against its side. It rolled quietly through the wet undergrowth to the path and turned down it, its engine making no more sound than that of rustling grass, its eyes showing only the faintest flicker of light.
Francie knew the path well, having walked down here many times. It was twisting and narrow but was relatively clear of low-hanging branches, and Flash gradually picked up speed, obviously having no problem seeing its way in the dark. Francie leaned forward between the engimals horns, feeling the wind on his face. The dripping trees blurred past him on either side, the ends of branches snagging his jacket and trousers, threatening to whip off his cap.
He had left the stable with only what he had on him but it was all he would need. There would be no more mucking out the stalls, no more polishing tack or taking lip from the grooms. No more knuckling his forehead to every swell who said a word to him. He was free! The exultation rushed through him—he wanted to scream with joy, to let it out into the forest around him.
It was just at that moment that they swerved round a high bank of thick foliage and Francie’s breath caught in his throat. Standing right in their path was a man, his head hung low, lost in thought. They were going too fast to stop on the wet path. Flash reared and let out a bark of surprise as they slammed into the man, throwing him off his feet. He had time to scream before his body fell under the wheels of the velocycle. The jolt bounced Francie out of the stirrups just as Flash came down hard on its front wheel, its back wheel striking the man’s torso and bucking the boy forward over the handlebars. Francie crashed into a bank of ferns and soft earth, the impact knocking the wind out of him and leaving him stunned.
Getting up onto his knees, he bent forward, trying to get his breath back. There came the sound of shouting in the distance, off to one side. The guards had heard the noise. They were coming. Francie looked around for the velocycle. Flash was standing on the path, looking from Francie to the fallen man and back again. Francie waved to it, his chest still too constricted to call the engimal, but it backed away warily, turned and scuttled off back towards the house.
“No!” Francie wheezed. “Come back, yeh blackguard!”
But it was no use, the velocycle was gone. The man lying on the path moaned in pain, barely conscious. Francie wondered if he should try and help him, but what could he do? The voices were getting closer; he couldn’t tell where they were coming from. There was nothing to be heard from the direction of the house—it seemed like the only way left to him. Francie stood up shakily and started running, weakly at first but then faster and faster until it seemed as if his feet were hardly touching the ground. Terror gave him wings and he raced back to the edge of the woods and up the lawn along the shadow of the hedge. The alarm had not yet been raised in the house; there were still few lights to be seen in the huge edifice. He had time to make it back before all hell broke loose.
He staggered to a halt in amazement. Flash was standing nervously by the side door, as if waiting to be let in. Francie shook his head and walked the last few yards, his legs suddenly feeling stiff and heavy. Opening the door, he ushered the velocycle in, stopping only to give it a sound kick up its arse as it slipped past him.
“I never figured yeh for a coward!” he hissed softly. “Look at yeh! The size o’ yeh and yeh run like a mouse when yer startled!”
Flash looked suitably cowed, hovering by the door of its stall. It made an apologetic grunt but Francie opened the door and shoved it inside, muttering curses under his breath. Once the velocycle was put away, he sneaked back out to the rear of the stables and climbed the stairs to the loft. Wincing at the creaking floorboards, he found his way through to his bed in the darkness. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he sat there feeling utterly drained. He was wearily pulling off his clothes when Patrick rolled over and squinted up at him.
“What are yeh gettin’ up for, Francie? It’s a bit early yet, isn’t it?”
Francie hesitated in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt. He carefully started buttoning it back up again, and pulled his braces onto his shoulders before answering.
“Somethin’s goin’ on outside,” he said to his friend. “It woke me up. Thought I’d go and see what the story is.”
“Jaysus, I’ll go with yeh,” Patrick declared. “’S bin a while since we had a bit o’ drama.”
Francie nodded and tried to look enthusiastic. He’d had his fill of drama for one night. Standing up, he grabbed his cap and jacket and waited for Patrick to get dressed. He was standing with his hands in his pockets when he realized he should have been able to feel the letter his father had given him. He checked the pockets of his jacket but he already knew he wouldn’t find it. He had dropped it somewhere out in the woods. Sitting down on the edge of the bed with his back to Patrick, he tried not to cry.
XXIV
AN UNJUSTIFIED ACCUSATION
IT WAS AFTER three in the morning when Clancy woke Nate to tell him he had been summoned to the main drawing room. Roberto had been attacked. Stopping only to pull on a pair of slacks, shoes and his dressing gown, Nate rushed down to see his brother.
He arrived, out of breath, to find Roberto stretched out on a divan, looking pale and uncharacteristically disheveled and muddy, his waistcoat open and his shirt torn. He was holding a damp folded cloth to the side of his face. Sitting in armchairs on either side of him were the Duke and Gideon, and Nate was surprised to see Hugo there as well. Standing by the Duke’s chair was Slattery, a strange smile playing on the corners of his mouth.
“What happened?” Nate demanded.
“
Your brother was attacked in the woods,” Edgar growled.
“By whom?” Nate asked, then he frowned and added to his brother, “And what were you doing in the woods at this time of night?”
“I was taking a walk,” Berto replied defensively. “I can still take a walk when I like, can’t I? I couldn’t sleep.”
“Are you hurt?”
“The good doctor says I’ve cracked some ribs, but apart from that and some bruises and a rotter of a headache, I’m fine … apparently,” Berto said in a skeptical tone. “I don’t feel fine. I feel bloody awful.”
“Someone riding an engimal, most probably a velocycle, ambushed him and almost killed him,” Edgar said. “This, in an area surrounded by armed guards. We do not know if it was an opportunistic attack, or whether somebody was deliberately targeting the Wildenstern Heir. If so, it was a bold and extraordinary act of aggression.”
“Well, that’s not likely, is it?” Nate stuck his hands in the pockets of his robe. “Who could have known Berto was going to take it into his head to go for a walk in the middle of the night? Or where he’d walk? It must have been an accident. And you said they used an engimal? That doesn’t sound like rebels or poachers—more like someone from the family.”
Both Hugo and Gideon were following what was being said very closely, but said nothing.
“Sit down, Nathaniel,” Edgar said quietly.
Nate felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. He was missing something here. Something was badly wrong. He reached for an armchair and pulled it closer, sitting down clumsily. Slattery stepped out into the middle of the floor and gave him a little bow.
