by Oisin McGann
“Hush,” he said. “I’ll get help.”
“Shut up and listen, boy,” Clancy growled, his Limerick accent suddenly stronger, all trace of civility gone from his voice. He seized the collar of Nate’s jacket. “Shut up! Listen to me. You can’t let them take what’s yours, y’hear me? Don’t … don’t let those bloody snakes take over. This is your family … you must claim it back!” He choked on something, coughing.
“Don’t worry about me now,” Nate told him. “We need to—”
“This isn’t about you, you little whelp!” Clancy snarled again. “There’s more at stake here than your privileged little life …” He ran out of breath, growing steadily weaker. “Your father didn’t want you or Roberto taking charge, y’understand? You don’t have his greed and he sees that as weakness. It takes an appetite for … for money … for power to run this family the way he wants and you don’t have it, y’understand? The Duke’s seed was gone, he could have no more children. And Gideon is a coward … and … and stupid to boot. The Duke needed a new Heir … That’s …” He took a shaky breath. “That’s why he let Hugo and the others live. Because the Duke needed to seed a ruthless new generation.”
He went quiet for a moment, struggling to breathe. Blood pooled under him, despite Nate’s attempts to cover the wounds.
“This wealth isn’t theirs to take,” Clancy managed at last. “Nor is it yours … for that matter. You never earned it—none of you did. But … but you can spend the rest of your life making good. Be a just master … You have a duty … Don’t disappoint me … Nathaniel.”
He slumped down, barely conscious, letting out short, loud, wet panting groans. Nate pulled him up and heaved his servant onto his shoulder. Hurrying back to the painting at the end of the corridor, he entered, lit a candle, and slammed the Duke’s portrait closed behind him.
“Where is he?” Gideon demanded. “We’ll find him anyway, you know.”
“Then why bother asking?” Roberto said through broken teeth.
Gideon and his stocky brood of five sons with their thick black pelts and various facial hair arrangements wrestled their captives along the hallway towards the Duke’s study. Daisy had tried to hold them up so that she could tend her husband’s injuries, but they would have none of it. Berto had put up a fight and had paid the cost. The fingers of one hand were dislocated and Daisy was sure he had fractures in his ribs or arm from the way he walked. His face was badly bruised.
Holding Tatiana’s hand, she walked as quickly as her dress would allow, shaking her arm free when one of the Gideonettes tried to drag her ever faster. They reached the door of the study and Gideon threw it open, two of his sons becoming jammed in the doorway behind him in their efforts to be next through. The rest of the party managed to enter with a little more dignity. Berto was thrown to the floor in front of the desk, with three men holding him, his face pressed into the carpet.
“The prodigal children return!” Hugo greeted them with a grim smile as he stood up from behind the desk. “I trust you have recovered from your pampered tantrums and are ready to behave with a little more decorum?”
They stared for a moment, struck by the strange sight of a man wearing a dress suit, but with a vest of chain mail over his shirt. It must have come from one of the antique costumes the family kept. The steel links glittered in the light under his black suit jacket. A purple cravat covered a stout leather collar protecting his neck. He saw them looking.
“Old habits die hard,” he said, gesturing at the armor. “Best to be careful until I know where everyone stands, eh?”
He came round the desk to face them, glancing at Roberto for just a moment before fixing his gaze on Daisy. Taking her hand, he kissed her knuckles, his waxed goatee brushing against her fingers. She wrinkled her face in disgust at his touch, but she was not going to give him the satisfaction of showing her fear. There was nothing left to her but her dignity.
“This family has bathed in sin long enough,” he said softly. “It is time to accept Christ into your hearts. I have been chosen to save you all from your sins that we might spread His Word across this benighted land.”
Daisy threw him a contemptuous look.
“The problem with people who think they’ve been chosen by God is that all too often they haven’t,” she said to him. “But they enthusiastically proceed in committing all manner of atrocities, safe in the belief that anything they do is God’s Will. Don’t mistake your motives for His. I’m quite sure Christ is not in the business of stabbing his host at the dinner table.”
“I am Christ’s Sword,” Hugo said solemnly. “And I will do His Bidding.”
“I don’t remember Jesus using a sword, or any other weapon for that matter. Perhaps it’s someone else’s voice you’re hearing?”
Hugo flinched, but then laughed and opened his arms wide.
“By Jove, you’ve got spirit!” he roared. “You are a woman of substance and no mistake. My sisters and I are going on a visit to the zoo. Will you join us, ma’am?”
“I’d rather you just let us leave,” Daisy retorted.
“Hah! No,” said Hugo, his smile changing to a regretful expression. “I’m afraid a trip to the zoo is the best we can do for you at the moment.”
XXIX
A NIGHTTIME VISIT TO THE ZOO
NATHANIEL MADE HIS way down through the labyrinth of wooden and stone-walled passages, the light of the candle throwing a bobbing glow ahead of him that would announce his approach to anyone lying in ambush. He turned every corner with care, pistol raised. Clancy had still been alive when they reached Gerald’s laboratory. Gerald did not offer much hope, but had begun operating immediately. Nate had been forced to leave his footman in his cousin’s hands; they would all be in danger if Nate was discovered there.
Every step he took felt like a betrayal. Tatty, Berto and Daisy were all behind him and he was deserting them to save himself. It would be days, if not weeks, before he could return with allies from the family in Cork, and anything could happen in that time. And by then, Hugo would have secured his position in the house. Nate would return to find a fortress waiting for him.
But there was nothing for it; he couldn’t defeat Hugo on his own. Clancy’s last words grated at him. The family’s power was not his responsibility—it never had been. He just wanted to get the others out safely. Descending a narrow staircase, he followed a twisting corridor to a door made of stones mounted in an oak frame. Blowing out the candle, he peeped through the spy hole in one of the cracks to see that the way was clear and then gently unlatched the door and swung it open. He was in the east wing of the stables.
It was dark, but not the pitch black of the passage behind him. He could smell the horses and their hay and the oiled leather of the tack hanging up on the wall beside him. The quiet was disturbed only by the animals shifting position or snorting softly, and the creaking of the grooms and stable boys moving about in the attic above. Letting his eyes adjust to the gloom, he walked through the stable until he reached Flash’s stall.
As he opened the door to the stall, he was surprised to find the velocycle was not alone. One of the stable boys was asleep next to it, hugging its front wheel. Flash greeted Nate with a friendly grunt and turned towards him, waking the lad. Blinking his encrusted eyes, the boy took a moment to register Nathaniel’s presence. He gaped in shock, jumped to his feet and whipped off his hat, knuckling his forehead.
“I’m sorry, sir!” he blurted out. “I was just—”
“Shhh!” Nate whispered, holding up his hand, forgetting that he was still holding his firearm.
The boy started to shake. Nate looked at the gun and then put it in his pocket.
“It’s all right, I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassured the lad. “I need you to be quiet though, you understand me? You’re … I’ve never seen anyone so comfortable with this beast. You must be good with engimals. What’s your name?”
“Francie, sir. I mean … Francis Noonan, sir.”
; Noonan. Nate tried to remember where he had heard that name before—and then it came to him.
“You’re related to Séamas Noonan?”
The boy didn’t answer at first, but his hesitation was enough to give him away.
“He’s me father,” he admitted at last.
Nate leaned back against the door. Suddenly, things started to make a little more sense.
“Saddle it up … quietly,” he said, gesturing at Flash. “I’m leaving here and I don’t want anyone to know it. And you’re coming with me. You’re going to take me to your rebel friends.”
It did not surprise Nate that Francie knew how to lead Flash with its eyes dimmed, without making any noise, and that he knew the path through the woods to the forest road. After all, he had stolen the velocycle once before. What did surprise him was that the rebels would recruit such a young agent. They must be a cold-blooded lot indeed. But once Francie knew the game was up, he wasted no time in telling the full story, in a desperate attempt to convince this gent that Shay Noonan was neither a rebel nor a murderer.
“You blew up the cemetery because you were trying to rob us?” Nate asked in a low voice, his disbelief evident.
“They were just tryin’ to blow through the wall,” Francie explained. “They thought there was a treasury on the other side. They didn’t know about the powder store.”
So much for the Duke’s theories about a criminal mastermind, Nate thought.
“But what about your attack on my brother? You left a bloody note!”
“I was just nickin’ the engimal, sir!” Francie protested softly. “Da just wrote the note to put the wind up yez. I wasn’t even goin’ to leave it except I ran into Master Roberto and dropped it by mistake when I fell off.”
“Bloody hell,” Nate sighed. “All this mayhem because a few petty thieves were trying to steal some gold. So you’re definitely not rebels?”
Francie shook his head vigorously, his eyes ever watchful for a chance to make a break for it. He wasn’t sure why Nathaniel was being so sneaky about wandering around his own grounds, but there could be no doubt that Francie was well and truly scuppered. He was probably too young to be hanged, but there was plenty of space in Kilmainham Gaol for the likes of him.
When they were a little way into the forest, Nate climbed into Flash’s saddle and had Francie get on behind. With Flash still suppressing the sound of its engine, they rode through the forest towards the wall that surrounded the estate. Francie felt the thrill of the ride again, relishing the engimal’s raw power.
It took less than ten minutes to reach the wall, and then they stopped.
“There’s a culvert off to the right,” Francie said. “You’d have to get wet, sir, and Flash would have to be pushed through on its side—”
“Nonsense,” Nate declared. “We’re going to jump it.”
He steered the velocycle round until they were about thirty yards back from a grass bank that lay in front of the wall. Nate knew his beast’s agility could make a ramp of that hillock and the ground on the other side was clear enough for a landing.
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea, sir,” Francie whispered nervously. “This thing’s a contrary craythur at the best of times.”
“Just hold on,” Nate told him, and kicked his heels into the velocycle’s sides.
Flash reared and its eyes flashed bright, its engine raised in a roar. They hurtled forward, gathering speed at a tremendous rate. The beams of Flash’s eyes picked out the stone wall and then the ramp …and then the wall again. Nate felt the engine falter.
“No—” he managed, before Flash slowed as they hit the ramp and then came to an abrupt halt, hurling the two riders over the wall.
The ground struck with a shocking suddenness in the darkness. Nate found himself sprawled in the long grass, unable to see where he was and in too much pain to find out. He could hear Francie giving wheezing cries a few feet away. And then he heard someone else shouting.
Sentries had been alerted by the noise and the lights. Did they know there had been a change in power? Were they Hugo’s men now? There was no way to be sure. Nate heard two voices, possibly three. He lay still in the grass, trying to discern where they were coming from. Turning his face to the ground, he detected running feet approaching from his right. He felt for his pistol, still in his jacket. Falling on it had left a nasty bruise under his ribs, and he winced as he drew it from his pocket. A man came hurrying through the grass and was almost on top of him when Nate sprang up and whipped the butt of the gun across the side of his head. The man flipped onto his back and hit the ground with barely a grunt.
Grabbing Francie’s arm, Nate pulled him onto his feet.
“Come on,” he hissed. “That blasted beast has shafted us good and proper. We have to get out of here.”
“But … but why are yeh runnin’ from yer own family?” Francie gasped as he hobbled after Nate on wobbly legs.
“That’s a bloody good question,” Nate replied.
The zoological gardens where the Wildensterns kept their menagerie of exotic wildlife—including their collection of untamable engimals—was a bizarre place in daylight, but at nighttime it was positively eerie.
Some footmen had gone ahead to light the gas-lamps along the walkway, but the place had not been built to visit at night and the widely spaced lamps gave a meager light; they still needed two of the footmen to guide the way with lanterns. The enclosures loomed over them in all shapes and sizes, from closed-off sheds to fenced pens to ridiculously ornate cages. Daisy let herself be led on Hugo’s arm, willing to play along until an opportunity to escape presented itself. And if one didn’t, she was determined to concoct one.
They were accompanied by Elizabeth, Brunhilde and Gideon. As they stepped through the tall east-iron gates of the zoo, Elizabeth gasped in delight at the shadowy beasts around them. Brunhilde began scurrying from one to the next, chattering, grunting and panting as if she were trying to communicate with the creatures. The woman had no class whatsoever.
“The smaller creatures are kept here,” Gideon explained as they strolled down the walkway. “Wild mowers, a few breeds of snake-chain, some miniature cranes … you get the idea. Down by the canal are the larger engimals, including the ones that require moats, like Trom. Although none of them have been tamed like Trom, of course.”
“Let us see the most magnificent first,” Hugo said.
Gideon nodded and led them through the avenue of dark buildings. They heard an array of noises emitted by the restless engimals: clanking, clacking, whirring, ticking, whistling and any number of other faint sounds. Hugo and his sisters listened with interest. They must have seen enough engimals in their time, but Daisy knew there would have been nothing like the Wildenstern Zoological Gardens in their century.
But they could see very little without lighting each enclosure individually, so they walked on as Hugo had requested, to see the most magnificent first. As they strolled arm in arm, Hugo would rub Daisy’s arm against his side and she could feel the hard links of the chain mail beneath his jacket. Sometimes he stroked her fingers. His touch made her skin crawl and she was glad that the diameter of her crinoline kept him a good two feet away. Every now and then he gave her a smile that she supposed was meant to be charming, but merely made him look like the depraved old man that he was.
As they moved along the path, they passed an enormous bronze birdcage. There was a faint white glow emitting from it. Elizabeth stopped to peer inside and even Daisy turned to look. She hadn’t seen the leaf-lights in darkness for some time. Roberto had taken her here at night, during their first year of marriage, for one of his well-orchestrated romantic evenings.
Daisy wondered bitterly if he had ever taken Old Hennessy to the zoo.
There was a thick pane of glass between each intricately shaped bar of the cage, forming a solid dome.
“I saw creatures like these once,” Elizabeth whispered in a sensuous voice. “On a campaign in France. Do you remembe
r, Hugo? They flew past my tent one night when we camped in a forest.”
The leaf-lights lay on the floor of the cage. It appeared as if someone had taken a ream of paper—of sheets about six inches square—and cast them across the boards. But these sheets of paper glowed, and as the people approached the glass, the creatures floated up into the air and fluttered in a rustling cloud towards their visitors.
Elizabeth put her hand to the glass, but it was the servants holding the lanterns who interested the engimals. They drank light; during the day they basked in the sun and in the evening they took to the sky in wild and meaningless dances. They danced now, whirling in a dizzying display of agility. Elizabeth clapped her hands and Brunhilde pointed and laughed.
“We didn’t come here to look for toys,” Hugo said after a few minutes.
“Yes,” Gideon replied, making a big hand gesture so that his rings caught the light. “You wanted something magnificent. Come this way. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”
The most magnificent engimal was a behemoth even larger than Trom. It was an eight-wheeled juggernaut, brought all the way from North America, where it had roamed the endless plains of the Midwest. Now it was held in an enclosure of little more than three acres; it would spend days and nights rolling around the perimeter one way and then the other, tirelessly searching for a way out. Its body was black, gold and purple, with a narrow sloping tail and a huge muscular torso shaped like a tightly clasped fist with two thumbs. It was scarred along its front and sides from territorial battles. But its fighting days were over. Now it stood listlessly at its water trough, sucking up water.
“This is Colossus,” Gideon announced proudly as they stopped at the railing to peer across the moat at the gloomy scene. “It is the mightiest, most untamable monster this side of the world. You would have to go to Africa, or even Asia to find its match.”
“Indeed.” Hugo stared across the moat with a faint smile on his face.
There was a raised pier that ran out over the stonewalled moat, so that visitors could look down on the engimal from above. Hugo let go of Daisy’s arm and ran up the steps and along the length of the walkway to the end. He stood there, his tall, upright figure silhouetted against the sky, the lanterns casting a faint light from below. The others followed him up more slowly, and Daisy felt a sense of foreboding come over her as she came up the last few steps and saw the new Patriarch leaning over the railing, a look of wonder on his face;
