‘Ristorin halted the carriage higher up and we walked through the wood to an open space, where we sat down on the grass, close to the edge of a cliff. Below us lay the turrets and gables of the palace of Norvius. Smoke rose from its chimneys, grooms walked horses in the stableyard, soldiers went to and fro. A servant came through a window to hang washing on a line stretched across a flat rooftop. The town lay further below, looking even smaller than the palace from where we sat. Toy carts moved along the streets, tiny people moved about the market square, birds like dots swooped about the red tiled roofs.
‘“How charming it all looks,” I said. “A fairy-tale. Unlike vast, sooty London.”
‘“Do not be deceived,” he said gravely. “There are some very tangled skeins here. How much has Prince Rudolph told you?”
‘“I think he has told me what he knows.” I answered. “But he is bewildered, of course. Let me tell you what I have gathered. Then you must add what you think fit – but we must both be frank.” Ristorin nodded in agreement. (I trust him up to a point, Sherlock, but I am not completely confident of him.) “Very well,” I said. “What I know is that the marriage of Rudolph and Ursula of Holstein is important to Kravonia as the alliance will unite the country with its Holstein neighbour, thus forming in effect a Greater Kravonia and giving it more power to resist its jealous neighbours, the emperors of Germany and Russia. Kravonia has a major port at Norvius, which rarely freezes in winter. Kravonia has coal, Holstein iron – together they could found an industry making ships and armaments which would make Greater Kravonia a force to be reckoned with. At first sight the only objection to the marriage on either side could have been that the partners to it strongly objected to each other. But this does not seem to have been the case. Love is scarcely expected in such marriages. It comes later, they say, to the happy couple.”
‘“If at all,” said Ristorin, with a smile.
‘“Just so,” I responded. Then I went on, “But Rudolph has never said he loathed Ursula of Holstein and there’s little evidence she objected to him. A well brought-up girl who has always taken it for granted she would have no choice in her marriage would probably thank her lucky stars if her future husband turned out to be Rudolph of Kravonia. Yet the marriage never took place. Two days before the wedding, with preparations in full swing, the prospective bride and her parents left Norvius in haste. Then came the declaration that the King was ill. Now Ursula of Holstein is studying art in Paris – has, in fact, been sent well away from these regions, even though such conventional parents must flinch at the thought of their carefully reared daughter leading such an independent life, however guarded she may be from the Parisian frivolity. And that”, I told the Chancellor, “is all I know.”
‘“And your suspicions?” he enquired.
‘“I will keep those to myself, until I hear more from you,” I told him. “Though I must admit to wondering about something quite far from this subject. I’m sure you know there are rumours Prince Rudolph’s older brother, Oscar, did not die in a hunting accident five years ago, as was announced, but is, in fact, kept locked up, mad, by the Royal Family. I hope you will forgive me for being so blunt about this painful subject, but you must know these rumours have been in circulation for some years.”
‘The Chancellor did not reply immediately. Instead he asked me certain pertinent, or perhaps impertinent, questions about the friendship between myself and Prince Rudolph with which, Sherlock, I will not weary you, as they have nothing to do with the investigation. He then handed me a Turkish cigarette, took one himself and we smoked quietly, gazing down over the rooftops of the palace and the town of Norvius in the still-bright afternoon sunshine.
‘Ristorin said ruminatively, “Miss Holmes – I have a feeling very little escapes you. To begin with, as far as I know, Prince Oscar is unquestionably dead. I attended his funeral. There is no evidence to suggest he is alive. Terrible rumours always encircle the lives of prominent people – insanity, illegitimacy, monstrous births, poisonings and false declarations of death. This is how the common folk entertain and console themselves on dark winter evenings.”
‘“I know that is so,” I agreed.
‘“As to the débâcle at Norvius last September, I will tell you what I can. Prince Rudolph will not, perhaps, have given you a very detailed account. He is the least vain of men, but a young and handsome prince who experiences the sudden flight of a prospective bride only days before his wedding is bound to be shocked. But before I tell you exactly what happened I must point out how serious the matter is. The Tsar of Russia has troops now massed on our border. He says they are on manoeuvres, an old story which often leads to skirmishes, if not outright war. Our spies also believe the Tsar, to cause social instability, is funding the Kravonian People’s League. Had the Holstein wedding taken place, I doubt if the Tsar would have chosen to act so provocatively. Kravonia would have been too much a force to be reckoned with.”
‘“What is the Kravonian People’s League?” I asked Ristorin.
‘“Anarchists!” he exclaimed disgustedly. “Revolutionaries! Do not be deceived by their innocent-sounding title. They are armed. They cause explosions. They blow up railway bridges, raid the docks and steal goods to support themselves. They seduce or threaten the country people into helping them. They are vermin.”
‘“What are their principles?” I asked him. This question inflamed him further. “Principles?” he said angrily, as if I were a People’s Leaguer myself. “What principles? Explosion! Anarchy! Disorder! Chaos!”
‘At risk of further infuriating him I mentioned, “Kravonia is an absolute monarchy, is it not?”
‘“It is ruled by His Majesty and a Council of Ten, to which I have the honour to belong. I hope you are not suggesting Kravonia is some kind of autocracy such as Russia, Miss Holmes?”
‘“Certainly not,” I answered tactfully. “It has the name, among European nations, of being most enlightened.”
‘“To the events of the September wedding, then,” he said rapidly. “The Count and Countess of Holstein, with many members of their court, arrived late in August. They brought forty people, a regiment of soldiers and some fifteen wagons of baggage. Both nations rejoiced. The King, the Council of Ten and the entire court were naturally delighted.”
‘“And the Prince?” I enquired.
‘He gave me a sharp look. “Content to do his duty.”
‘“And the Countess Seraphine?” I asked further.
‘His look was even more piercing. “Happy for the Prince and the nation, so far as I am aware,” he told me.
‘“Ristorin,” I protested, “be frank with me.”
‘“Miss Holmes,” he said, “there are things – matters – it is not always wise …”
‘“Very well,” I told him, “let us go on. Will you tell me about Ursula of Holstein herself?”
‘“Healthy, pretty, well educated – more or less – well brought-up, well conducted and, as far as I could tell, of an even temperament. Rather excited, I thought,” he added, “about her wedding, and quite ready to fall in love with her husband.”
‘“What girl would not be?” I asked.
‘“Just so. The Prince’s attitude to his bride was entirely as it should have been – respectful, sympathetic, tinged with the knowledge that his bride-to-be is a young woman, inexperienced, in need of guidance …”
‘“Yet in spite of all this, two days before the wedding …”
‘“Sadly, yes – two days before the wedding, the Holstein entourage left the palace, bag and baggage, at dawn. There was little warning. All had gone well until the preceding evening, when we sat down to dinner, some fifty of us – without Ursula of Holstein. There was no explanation for her absence, she simply failed to arrive. Then she sent a message down to Prince Rudolph asking, apparently, if he would visit her in her apartment (which she shared with her mother) and come immediately, and alone. The Prince jumped up from the table and left the room without explanation. Fifteen min
utes later the Countess, Ursula’s mother, unable to endure any longer the absence of her daughter, and the sudden, prolonged disappearance of the Prince, excused herself from the table, saying that she felt unwell. She was gone some time – then, in a very undignified way, and contrary to any protocol, we all began to drift from the table on one pretext or another – first the Count left, then I did. Others followed. It was quite disgraceful. When I arrived in the doorway of Ursula’s room she stood there, in her bedchamber, small, young, shaking, her mother trying to calm her. Rudolph was standing there startled and white as a sheet. Meanwhile the Count was attempting to find out what was happening and the room was filling up with people. The scene was chaotic. When the babble subsided somewhat and the room was cleared. Prince Rudolph explained that when he went to Ursula, he found her in her chamber, hysterical. She told a horrid tale. It seemed that the little Princesses, Cunegonde and Ulrica, had revealed themselves to her as witches, then led her to the attics where she had seen a dreadful spectacle – a creature, short-trunked, with a huge head, lying inside a locked and barred room, on straw, mumbling, muttering, devouring – ” and he shuddered, “a living animal, cat or rabbit, she could not tell which in the dim light. This still twitched as he ate. The creature, though hideously deformed, she said, was still human and was said by the Princesses to be their brother Oscar, not dead but horribly deteriorated. Madness, hereditary degeneracy, witchcraft – those were the accusations made by Ursula of Holstein. There was a colloquy, late into the night, between the Count and Countess and the King. An unsatisfactory conversation, evidently – next day they all went home.”
‘“Astonishing,” I said. “Did no one offer to show them the attics where, I assume, no monster is to be found?”
‘“Of course that was done,” said Ristorin. “And of course there was no trace of life there. But they knew, I suppose, that if there ever had been some poor creature captive there we would have removed it. We could not prove that it – he – had never been there.”
‘“I suppose the little Princesses were questioned?”
‘“They denied any knowledge of anything Ursula had said. They charged her with madness, claimed she had made the whole thing up.”
‘“What do you believe?” I asked the Chancellor.
‘He shrugged. “I don’t know what to believe.”
‘We gazed in silence over the scene below. A tiny man in a scrap of leather apron was chasing a minute horse, which had evidently broken free from his forge. We watched him catch it and take back to the smithy.
‘“I know”, Ristorin said, “that none of this makes sense. I assure you, Miss Holmes, that in twenty years in the service of the King of Kravonia, I have never had any evidence at all of the existence of a monster.”
‘“They are traditionally kept”, I observed, “in conditions of absolute secrecy, guarded only by a mute hunchback.”
‘“We are coming to the end of the nineteenth century,” Ristorin told me. “We are not at the start of the fifteenth. Tell me, what do you think?”
‘I had come to some conclusions, Sherlock, and now plead with you to let me know yours, on the basis of what I have so far told you. However, whatever I was thinking and whatever I was prepared at that time to reveal to Ristorin was never to be told, for suddenly, from our position on the hillside, we heard a sharp bang. The ground beneath us trembled very slightly. Below us in the market square we saw a large building, which I later discovered to be the Town Hall, disappearing in a plume of smoke, filled with debris. Small figures outside the centre of the disturbance began to run about. The smoke-cloud broadened, debris was beginning to fall. The effect of watching a bomb blow up a building so far below was extraordinary, as if we were children who had naughtily put a firework under one of the buildings in a toy village set up on the nursery floor. I expected Ristorin to jump to his feet, call the coachman and set off to see what he could do, but after we had exchanged the foolish ritual phrases inevitable on such an occasion – “A bomb?” “Yes, it must be a bomb” – the Chancellor did not move but stayed sitting despondently on the hillside.
‘“Who do you think responsible?” I asked him. He only shrugged. “The Kravonian People’s League?” I pressed.
‘“Most likely,” he responded.
‘“Let us go down to the town and see what we can do to help,” I suggested, getting to my feet. Which, dear Sherlock,’ Charlotte’s first letter concluded, ‘we did. I will be brief. While I was assisting the innkeeper of the charming traditional inn in the market square to extract his dog from the rubble he told me the name of the leader of the Kravonian People’s League, John Land – curious name, is it not – and I felt he knew more of the man than he was saying. Ristorin, regrettably, returned to the palace, in order, he said, to make out his report for the King. As the rescue work went on not one figure appeared from the direction of the palace to help, only one or two servants whose families lived in the town. Now I must hurry to catch the post. This kingdom has an atmosphere of deception, of things unsaid and unacknowledged, beneath its peaceful surface. Please let me know your views as soon as you can.’
‘And the letter ends, “your most loving sister, Charlotte”,’ said Mary Watson, placing the last sheet of the letter on the pile of papers on the small table beside her. ‘Heavens, John. This is a most mysterious story she tells. Do you think she is safe?’
‘Hard to say, my dear,’ responded John gravely.
‘It sounds very alarming.’
‘Hand me her next letter,’ said John. ‘It is my turn to read to you. We must get through all three quickly. Then decisions can be made.’
He took the second letter from Mary and began to read while Mary sat, transfixed, her eyes on his face.
‘Dear Sherlock,’ began the second letter from Kravonia, ‘I think you must by now have received my first letter. I expect your detailed reply will take a further three or four days to arrive, although I am confident you will cable me with the more important points. Indeed, as I scribble this in my room, three days after the events I described in my last letter, I hope continually that a servant will come to me with your telegram.
‘I have made further discoveries, and I suspect the discoveries mean I will shortly have to act. Therefore, your advice is urgent.
‘Well, I think I know more of the mysterious Countess Seraphine now, a knowledge, I have to confess, gained by peering through an open doorway at night. In short, attempting to find my bedroom one night and getting lost on an upper floor of the palace – easy enough in such a large, confusing building – I saw, through an open door, the Countess Seraphine in her elegant sitting-room. There was a brightly burning fire, a bottle of wine on a table and the Countess was seated, en négligée, at the end of a sofa on which lay King Weland. She was bending towards him smoothing his brow, while he, with an expression of great weariness on his face, gazed up at her in a kind of despair. This scene did not lead me to think that these two were lovers, or even that the Countess was bringing the King much consolation. Nevertheless, as I hurried past – one attempts, Sherlock, not to allow detection to dwindle into mere keyhole-peering – my mind was full of suspicion.
‘The King is a man evidently full of care, on, or over, the verge of melancholia. And the Countess is an ambitious woman. While nothing is more natural for a man, any man burdened by grief and heavy responsibility, to go to the sister of his late wife for some consolation, when that woman is the Countess Seraphine – the case is altered. Her aim? I suspect it is to marry the King! If not the King, then his son – Rudolph! Either marriage would be illegal in Britain, but I imagine dispensations, civil and religious, could be got in Kravonia to licence either marriage. If I am right about Seraphine’s intentions, and I think I am, I do not need to tell you, Sherlock, of all people, that she must be suspected of taking a hand in the ruining of the marriage of Rudolph and Ursula of Holstein.
‘Then I found my own room – and later Prince Rudolph visited me to discuss what wa
s going on. My mind was still on the Countess’s marriage plans. I was about to ask him about his relations with her when – you know my bat’s ears, Sherlock! – I heard a small noise outside the door and crept over, signalling to the Prince to make no sound. He watched in astonishment as I reached the door and flung it open. And there was the Countess Seraphine, plainly listening outside. She was unhappy to see me, to say the least, and straightened up in confusion. I asked her what she was doing. She rapidly pulled herself together, then answered coolly, “Walking past this door, as you see. I did not know this was your room.” At that point she peered past me and curtseyed towards the Prince, who was sitting on the floor by the fire. “A million pardons, Rudolph,” she said in a surprised voice. “I did not see you there.” To me she said in the rapid undertone of those accustomed to communicating secretly in society, “Is it wise to entertain gentlemen in your bedchamber? Do British ladies greet royalty in their night attire?” (for the Prince had arrived just as I was ready for bed). Without waiting for a reply she dropped another curtsey to the Prince and swept away. Perhaps, the Prince suggested later, she had indeed been doing nothing else but passing the door when I opened it. Well, I agreed, perhaps that was all the Countess had been doing. Rudolph is a jewel among men, Sherlock, but possibly a little too trusting.
‘Next day I had yet another unexpected meeting with the Countess. If I were masquerading as a governess, then governessing was what I would do, I thought (and there can be no doubt that any particle of knowledge one might impart to Cunegonde and Ulrica would be beneficial). Therefore I breakfasted early and went to the schoolroom to prepare for the little Princesses. However, when I entered there were the Princesses, all starched petticoats and shining faces, and there, too, was the Countess. She sat with the two girls at the table and in front of them was a mass of papers, many of them old documents, some in writing, some covered with drawings and configurations. As I entered I saw on the Countess’s face the same fleeting, guilty expression which had been on it the previous night when I caught her listening outside my door. She stood up, swept all the papers together and put them under one arm, while saying rapidly, “My goodness, Miss Holmes, you are an early bird. I thought I would impart a little information to my nieces before their lessons began and here you are already.” She added, somewhat provocatively, “And after such a late night, too.”
The Strange Adventures of Charlotte Holmes Page 5
