The Last Earl

by Lara Blunte

  Edmund's eyelids fell over his eyes like heavy curtains, with only a small crescent of white and blue left to show that he was watching Adrian as he continued. "I'd like you to consider this: of the two of us, I am not the liar. You know that I care nothing for the money and that even if I did, I would still be a rich man without it. You know that I want the child back." Adrian leaned forward. "And as you must have surmised in your great sagacity, I want this chase to end, and for Catherine to be safe."

  Edmund had been watching him intently and now let out a small laugh. "You love her! It's not just guilt or chivalry, is it? It's love!"

  "How could you even begin to recognize the feeling?"

  "I never thought anyone would be good enough for you! What does she have, apart from looks, courage and some literacy? Is it because she has been playing Persephone to your Hades? I am very curious!"

  "Grabbing your throat has shown me where your nearest man is," Adrian said with quiet intensity. "I assure you that if you speak of her again, you will be dead before he gets here. Stop tempting me."

  Some sort of emotion was working through Edmund's shoulders and back, which seemed to be almost undulating. He put his head down as if to hide his face. "You have never understood that I don't hate you. I know that if it had depended on you my mother wouldn't have died forgotten in a tiny house in Naples. Of them all, you were the only one who was kind, who had mercy."

  Adrian's eyes were limpid and cold at the same time. "Do you think I will sit here and listen to your reason for massacring my family? You did it for the same reason you tortured a girl who had never done anything to you, because you are a monster. Why should a monster need to be understood?" Adrian shrugged. "You have always been a broken thing, you were probably born that way. You are just a terrible mistake of nature, Edmund. And no one gives a damn."

  Edmund did not raise his head, but finally he said tonelessly, "I do see, then, that you would keep your word. Cousin, you want a happy ending ─ "he looked up and leaned forward as well, "─ at least for her! Does my great sagacity surmise correctly?"

  Edmund's eyes showed grim amusement, anger, greed and something else, something hard to define or understand. It looked like regret.

  Adrian saw it all and said, "Try to think about the money. You have wanted it for a long time, you need it for your dangerous creditors, and you can have it. It's too bad you can't have Halford, but your mother is gone and you can't hand it to her as a present anymore. You can't have the final say against my father and take his name, but then he's dead, he wouldn't know it anyway."

  There was a small laugh again, as Edmund stared at his cousin. "Do you not believe in an afterlife, in another world? Do you not think he can see us, and my mother too?"

  "I should hope, for your mother’s sake, that she cannot," Adrian said, and for the first time he saw an almost imperceptible wince of shame in Edmund’s face. He added, "Think of the money, and give me the child. It's easy, Edmund. It's simple. Think that if you try to harm the child or Catherine in any way, I am going to kill you, and I am going to make it ugly."

  Edmund grimaced theatrically. "Oh, cousin, why end our meeting on this note? Heaven knows if we shall ever see each other again. I won't try to shake your hand, but I believe you. You see, this love of yours for Lady Catherine has convinced me that you will let me go, money and all. I wasn't convinced before, but now I am."

  He stood up and took his hat. "I shall send word to you of where to find your beautiful little boy. And then I shall expect the funds. After that..." Edmund shrugged. "I think after that you will learn that it was always, always about the money."

  Adrian didn't look at Edmund as he said, "You can be rich, Edmund, and you can stay alive to enjoy it."

  Edmund bowed, tipping his hat, and left. Adrian knew it was pointless to try to follow him. He watched the Abyssinian walk alongside Edmund towards the door of the bazaar, nodding at whatever he was saying. Both were engulfed by the crowd.

  V. Seven. Stalker

  You will learn that it was always, always about the money…

  It was all the opposite, and Adrian understood it as he left the bazaar and walked towards the Golden Horn. After a while, out of the corner of his eye, he saw that he was being followed by Muammar. It didn't surprise him.

  Clearly Muammar didn't care if he knew that he was being followed, otherwise he would hardly be strolling. The Abyssinian towered half a head over Adrian, who was a tall man. It was impossible not to notice him.

  It was not the money that Edmund had always wanted. Catherine had been right, he wanted some sort of connection, of recognition, and he had seen that he would never get it from his cousin.

  Now he wanted them dead so that he could follow an even bolder plan, for which he had been preparing by breaking his nose, dyeing his hair, getting Catherine to sign letters and Kartal to forge documents.

  Edmund meant to have it all. More than he had ever thought he could have. He would take the child to England, become his guardian, and bring the boy up to love him like a father. He would, after all, rule over Halford Castle with a false name and a changed face.

  Adrian switched streets and started heading towards the Egyptian Bazaar. It was better to keep to the busiest streets and the markets, though another prayer was coming. That was probably why Muammar walked slowly: when everyone disappeared, it would be easy for him to kill Adrian, but while there were people around, he needed to bide his time: an attack on a European man by someone as identifiable as Muammar would certainly cause comment, and Edmund did not want any comment.

  Prayer was drawing near, and people had begun to hurry towards the mosques or their own rooms. The doors to the market stalls started to close. The humming that preceded the call had begun, but Muammar still walked slowly and steadily.

  Passing the market, Adrian's eyes fell on the sacks of spices displayed on the street front. Red, yellow, white, black. Black! As he walked by, his hand discreetly closed over a handful of Indian pepper.

  He increased his pace towards Hagia Sophia, and the Abyssinian, clearly sensing the opportunity he needed was soon to come, also increased his. Adrian disappeared around the corner of a narrow street.

  As Muammar emerged around the angle, his hand over the knife on his belt, a cloud of pepper flew directly into his eyes. He screamed in pain. Adrian avoided his swinging arm and aimed a blow at the man's throat.

  But Muammar, his eyes streaming, was somehow able to catch his fist a few inches before it met his windpipe. Adrian felt his strength and knew that in a few moments he would probably be rendered helpless. He kicked the man in the groin. Muammar bent over with a howl of pain and let him go.

  Adrian ran backwards, watching Muammar, who was still growling and rubbing his eyes. He then ducked under a rope and dove inside the Sunken Cistern only a few steps away. His feet echoed as he descended the stone stairs. He knew there was a way out of there over the water, and that would probably take care of any spies who might want to follow him.

  He found himself in the enormous underground chamber that had been built by the Emperor Justinian as a filtration system for his palaces. The water lay still among hundreds of columns, and the light was dim: there were only a few oil lamps burning around the chamber, left by the caretakers when they went to say their prayers.

  There was nothing to steal here except three small boats with oars that were tied to a big iron ring. It would take too long for him to untie a boat and start rowing now. Muammar would get to him long before he managed.

  Adrian rushed to hide behind one of the columns and looked for something that he could use as a weapon. The knife that he had tucked in his boot was not going to be any good against Muammar: he would need to strike a vulnerable spot almost at once and with great precision or the man would finish him with a single blow. He looked down and saw a rusty iron chain made of strong large links. He picked it up as silently as he could and waited.

  Muammar's heavy steps echoed from vault to vault as he ca
me down the stairs. The knife in his hand was so big that Adrian grimaced: he could already feel himself being gutted like a fish. Muammar stopped at the edge of the water long enough to scoop a handful and run it over his eyes.

  Then he started carefully walking around the dim chamber.

  When Adrian thought he was close enough, he emerged from behind the column and swung the chain with all his might at Muammar's face. There was the sickening sound of bone breaking. A gash opened on the man's face and spouted blood. Muammar reeled like a tower, and Adrian knew he only had a moment before the giant recovered and smashed him to pieces.

  He leapt behind Muammar and wrapped the chain around his neck. He pulled on it, bracing his knee against the man's back. Muammar grabbed at the chain as he bucked like a bull.

  Adrian was slammed with considerable force against the stone wall over and over again, but he didn't let go. Bringing up all his strength he pulled more tightly on the chain. He needed to get out. He needed to get back to Catherine.

  Finally, just as Adrian thought all his bones might break, Muammar started gurgling, eyes bulging, and the hands that clawed at the chain began to falter. He fell to his knees with a crash. Adrian kept pulling on the chain until the big man became motionless.

  Even then he could not stop pulling. He could not believe that Muammar was dead. When he finally let go, the Abyssinian fell sideways on the ground, his eyes open, his tongue sticking out. Panting, watching his enemy in case he gave any signs of life, Adrian also fell to his knees. He moved his right elbow and almost cried out in pain. It might be broken, or at least very sore. His shoulder and upper back also hurt.

  But he had no time to waste. Prayer time would be over soon and the caretakers of the cistern would come back. He had to use all his strength to push Muammar onto one of the boats. If his body were found, Edmund would probably be told.

  Adrian jumped into another boat and started to row out, pulling the boat with Muammar on it. He would leave tied up underground, but not in plain sight, so that his death should not be reported too soon.

  V. Eight. A Mortal Wound

  Adrian had an address, and if his cousin believed that his plan had worked he would be there.

  Edmund’s henchmen had gone to seek Catherine at the house, to kidnap her again and then kill her with an overdose of opium, but instead they had found men prepared for them.

  Another falsehood was then written by Kartal: a note telling Edmund that everything had gone according to plan. Lord Halford and Lady Catherine were dead, he confirmed: the British consulate would assume that one had been struck by an unknown assailant, and the other had died a natural death as a consequence of an addiction.

  Edmund only knew what Kartal told him, because this time he wanted to disappear completely. No one ought to know that he was about to leave for England: no allies, no creditors, not even Muammar. No one should be able to find him henceforth.

  Before dawn, Adrian and Catherine drove in a carriage to a point near the address he had been given. He gave her a loaded pistol and asked if she knew how to use it. She nodded.

  "If any of Edmund's men find you here, don't hesitate to use it."

  "I won't," she promised, setting her chin.

  Abed was to stay with her, while Omar and three other men went to stand with him outside the house that might be holding Edward and the child.

  It wouldn't do to storm the house, not knowing exactly where the child was: Edmund would immediately use it as a hostage and escape. Adrian had to see exactly where the baby was before he made any move, and that meant they had to wait until Edmund came out.

  Adrian was aware that his right shoulder might be out of place or fractured, as he found it difficult to move his arm without great pain. Muammar had given the rest of his body a good thrashing as well. He reminded himself that it was almost over, and that he couldn't pay attention to the pain now.

  Just then the light appeared in an upper floor of the house. A shadow passed to and fro. A tall shadow.

  It was Edmund.

  Not long after, the door of the house opened. Adrian's hand tightened around the knife he was holding. They could not to use guns because, in the confusion, the child might be hurt.

  Servants appeared, carrying trunks which they deposited on the street before the curb. It looked as if Edmund was losing no time to stage his return to England. He must be confident that no one there would recognize him, not only because of his changed appearance, but because no one expected him to be alive.

  After perhaps ten minutes, a shiny closed carriage drove up and stopped before the house. The driver briskly climbed down and started to load the trunks on the back, securing them with strong belts.

  "Anything else?" he called inside in Turkish.

  One of the servants appeared at the door, "No, that's all. The master will come out in a moment."

  It wasn't the master who came out first, but a stern-featured woman. She descended the stairs carefully holding a bundle in her arms. Adrian saw a little arm emerge and move, and saw the woman tuck it back inside the blanket. She climbed briskly into the carriage with the driver's help.

  Adrian had to keep himself from running to snatch the child away. Unless Edmund was playing another horrible trick, their baby was in the woman's arms.

  He held his hand up, letting the men with him know they needed to wait a few more moments.

  Just then Edmund appeared at the door. He looked right and left as he put his gloves on, but without any fear or suspicion. His was the look of a man who had triumphed. He was dressed elegantly, as a well-to-do Englishman should dress on his voyage home.

  Tucking his walking stick under one arm, he skipped jauntily down the steps and walked towards the carriage.

  Adrian lowered his hand and his men began to move.

  Edmund heard their steps and turned around. His face revealed utter surprise, then terror.

  He tried to reach into the carriage, probably to grab the child, but Adrian was already running towards him. Edmund screamed for help, but the servants were not trained to fight. They looked as frightened as he did.

  He turned and started to run down the street.

  Omar had to secure the baby, Adrian would trust no one else to do it. The other men would make sure that the servants would not run to ask for help.

  Adrian ran after Edmund alone.

  The streets were still deserted one hour before the first prayer. Edmund ran for his life. There was no one in the street who might help him, and his shoes slipped on the cobblestones. He ran until he saw some steps leading to the door of a bath house. He jumped up the steps and opened the door, disappearing inside.

  Slowing his pace to a walk, Adrian entered carefully. There was a hall and then a door that led to the right. It was the only place where Edmund could have gone.

  Adrian found himself in a very large room made of veined marble and blue tiles. Arches sustained by columns went round the wall in a circle. In the center of the room there was a slab of marble, where customers would lie down to be scrubbed and massaged.

  The ceiling had holes in it to let the daylight in, but it was still night. The little light available in the hammam came from a few lamps that had probably been burning there for a while.

  Adrian walked carefully around the marble floor. Edmund was probably hiding behind one of the columns. He moved around them and couldn't find him, but when he passed the central slab of marble he felt the sudden cold sting of metal in his flesh.

  The slab was hollow, and Emund had been hiding inside it. He had stuck a blade concealed inside his walking stick through the grid and into his cousin's left side. He pulled it out and the blood spurted from the wound.

  Edmund rolled out across from Adrian. His face with its broken nose was flushed with fear and wild elation, as well as something like remorse. "I didn't want to do it. I really didn't want to kill you, I swear. But it has gone too far, now it's either you or me," Edmund whispered. Then he shouted, tears in his eyes, "Why
couldn't you do as I said, cousin?"

  He had misjudged Adrian's strength. The wound might prove fatal, but he had enough left in him to leap over the slab. Landing a blow on Edmund's cheek with his left fist, he took the stick that fell from his hand.

  Edmund stumbled backwards and Adrian slashed at him with the blade. He managed to jump back while a shallow horizontal cut appeared on his shirtfront. Edmund screamed.

  But just then Adrian fell on one knee, his hand over the wound. Anger and the heat of the fight had kept him going, but he was bleeding, and knew that he would soon lose consciousness. Edmund took advantage of the moment to run.

  He reached a wooden door beyond the arches and threw himself at it, but it was locked. Adrian was already coming towards him with the knife drawn, his face pale. Edmund put his back against the door, and started to scream. "No, Adrian, not like this!"

  Edmund's voice was as shrill as a woman's, and he shrieked. His face was full of terror as he huddled, his hands begging.

  Adrian had killed men before, and he must kill Edmund; he might not have much time left. But he couldn't slash his throat like an animal while he was crouching. "Get up, Edmund! Stand up, you mad coward!"

  Edmund shook his head and would have gone on screaming, but then his eyes shifted to the left and there was an even more frightened expression in them. "No, no, no!"

  A shot rang out, and the explosion seemed to echo loudly from wall to wall. The smell of gunpowder filled the air. Adrian turned and saw Catherine standing a few feet from him, the arm with the pistol still raised.

  Edmund fell on the ground. His eyes remained open in surprise.

  Adrian moved towards the body and opened Edmund's shirt. There was a hole near his heart, still smoking. Blood poured out of it like lava and onto the marble.

  "Is he really dead?" Catherine asked.

  "Yes," Adrian said. "You shot him through the heart."