Valeria, on deck for most of the trip, loved every minute.
Her soul soared with the gulls, and the wildness of the waves elated her. She was free. She was traveling to the land of her heart. She was happy for the first time in almost half a year.
They landed at night.
The dock at Kiel was cold. Valeria was grateful to be friends with the captain, who invited her to go with him to the inn where he usually stayed. They would dock that night, unload in the morning, and then return to England.
The inn was clean, but cold, and Valeria, exhausted, fell into a deep sleep. She was almost there. She had made it! She was safe and alive and on the border of Germany.
She could save Henry. She might even see Ernst.
For the first time in far too long, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LOYALTY, LOVE AND LIBERTY
LOYALTY, LOVE AND LIBERTY
Herr Albertus von Bergmann’s hall was dark, lit only with five candles. It was a meeting of the local group of the Enlightened ones – Illuminati. A group of intellectuals, nobles and simple landowners, they fought for freedom. Liberty, equality and fraternity for all. Now, they faced another problem.
“We have to find him!” a woman said passionately in German.
“Yes, Claudia,” an older voice agreed, more quietly. “We have to. After all, he has all our secrets.”
“It is not just that!” Claudia exploded. The candlelight shone off her hair, reflected in the deep, reddish brown of her eyes.
“I know,” the older voice, a woman, agreed again. “But we cannot risk ourselves in finding him. We cannot risk discovery.”
“Have you never heard of loyalty? None of you?” Claudia asked, voice shaking.
She heard the older woman hiss an indrawn breath, but before she could answer, cuttingly, another voice broke the brooding silence.
“I have.”
Claudia looked to where the voice had come from. She found a young man, lean-faced, with dark hair and wide black eyes.
“What do you know of loyalty, Ernst?” Claudia asked scornfully. She had limited trust of the young count, with his English connections and his quiet manner.
“I know I would die for those whom I love,” the young man said, very quietly.
“Then I am with you, Count of Aichelburg!” Claudia said, passionately. She went to stand beside him. “Does anyone join us?”
“Claudia,” the older voice replied, sounding infinitely weary. “We know you are de facto leader of this group of the Illuminated Ones. But you should be less hasty in your decisions.”
“We do need to move fast, Lady von Rothmann.”
“I know,” the older woman soothed.
“I am with you!” someone shouted.
“Thank you, Baron Oberhauser,” Claudia smiled.
“I am with you!” someone else cried. Then a third, and a fourth, stepped forward, joining Claudia and the others at the edge of the candlelit center.
A few moments later, Claudia heard the click of a knee, and a slight susurration of robes as someone crossed the floor.
“I am with you, too,” the older woman said from the space beyond the candles.
“Thank you, Lady von Rothmann,” Claudia breathed.
“Does this group all agree?” the older woman continued, with a steel-hard edge in her voice.
“We, the Illuminated of Riedburg, agree.” All twelve spoke with one voice.
Claudia felt something thrill through her as the whole room, darkened and cavern-like, echoed with their assent.
“We must decide, then, what to do,” the older woman continued.
“Does anyone know where they are holding him?” Claudia asked. “I think it is in Altenfeld, but...”
“I think it is, too,” someone confirmed. “I was watching the movements, and a group left the town of Westberg earlier this week, and went toward Altenfeld. I think they had prisoners with them, since they had a covered cart.”
“Confirmed, then,” Claudia agreed.
“I can make a reconnaissance,” the thin, dark-eyed man offered.
“Ernst! You would?” Claudia asked.
“I would,” he agreed.
“I thank you,” she said, a lump in her throat. “I would come, but...”
“But you will be here, helping to coordinate the rescue party,” he said gently. “I know.”
“I will go,” said a tall man with broad shoulders.
“Thank you, Andreas.” Claudia smiled her thanks at him.
Andreas was a local land owner, whose vast farms grew grapes and apples. The Illuminati had no social distinctions. All that mattered to them was the contents of a man's heart and mind, not that of his pockets.
That, Claudia thought distractedly as she reached for a map, was one of the reasons why their group existed. They were Illuminati. The Illuminated ones. They did not believe in race, class, social distinctions or power as it was defined on earth. They believed in reason. In equality. In freedom and rights for all. That was why they fought for Napoleon.
Intellectuals, thinkers and supportive nobles from all over Germany were part of the group. She smiled, looking around her at the wide cross-section of faces, ages and dress before her.
They sat and discussed for a long time. They argued. Men, and women, in one room, arguing as equals! Claudia grinned as she thought of what that meant. Nowhere else in the world, besides perhaps the salons of Napoleonic France, had such a thing been seen.
At the end of the evening, they had reached agreement. They took the chalices from the storage – a small trapdoor, dug under the floor of the hall – and drank an oath, as they always did. To Truth. To Reason. To Freedom.
They were the Enlightened Ones. They were the Knowers. And they would save their own.
CHAPTER TWELVE
IN PRISON
IN PRISON
Valeria’s ride to the prison in Altenfeld was exhausting. When she reached the town, Valeria felt almost too weak to walk. She had just enough energy to climb out of the carriage and walk to the small, boarded-up house beside the city wall where the prisoners were kept.
“Henry! Oh, my heavens! Henry...”
“Valeria!”
Valeria, standing in the small, fetid prison, erupted into the cell the moment she saw Henry, all trace of exhaustion forgotten. Heedless of the smell, the damp, the cold, she ran forward and embraced him. At last, she was here with Henry!
Henry was gaunt. That was the first thing she noticed. Thinner than she had ever seen him, with his fair hair grown long and a straggling pale beard on his chin.
“Henry!”
She embraced him again, holding him close, wincing at the feel of his ribs against her heart.
“Valeria?” Henry seemed dazed. Valeria looked at his eyes, concerned, and realized that it was probably starvation that slowed his thinking so. But she did not care. He was here. He was alive. He was Henry, her brother: dearest of her heart, bar one.
“Henry!” she cried. “It's me! Valeria!”
“I know,” his reply was soft, a whisper of sound.
A month of incarceration had reduced him to a ghost of himself. Henry moved like an old man. He was weak, impossibly so. He groaned with pain as he bent down toward her, and his hair, Valeria noted, looking closer, was streaked with white.
“I know,” he said again, and embraced her.
“We will set you free,” Valeria assured him, stroking his hair. “We will.” She was crying, and had not noticed it.
“Valeria,” he breathed in her ear, “you cannot. I am a traitor.” He smiled at her, as if this was a joyous thing to be.
“No!” Valeria cried. “I will not let you die!”
“You have no choice,” the ghost who was her brother whispered softly. “I have chosen. This is my fate.”
“No!” Valeria insisted, passionate. She had not crossed oceans, endured carriage rides, slept in rank, uncomfortable beds in foul, di
rty inns, for him to give up! “You will not die!”
“I am a traitor.” Henry smiled, lopsided.
“Will you let go of this madness?” Valeria shouted at him. “They have told you that so many times that it has turned your brain.”
“I am sane, dear sister,” he said, and smiled at her. Seeing that smile, she knew that it was true.
“I am sorry.” It was all that she could say.
“So am I,” Henry said. He held out his hands, a saint, come to offer absolution.
Crying, she collapsed into his arms. What else could she do?
Later, much later, Arthur came and led her away.
“I am sorry, sweet Valeria,” he breathed, when they were in his office, and alone. “I have tried. All I can do is buy him time.”
“I know,” Valeria said, and covered her face with her hands.
“I would if I could do more,” Arthur said gently, and rested his hand on her shoulder.
“You would? Really?” Valeria wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe he was not a traitor, not aligned with Matthew and his treacherous deals.
“I would,” Arthur agreed, and bowed his head. Valeria could hear his sobs, though she did not look, afraid of shaming him.
“Thank you, Arthur,” she said. “Thank you for taking me to see him.”
“That was nothing, sweet Valeria,” he said, and kissed her hair. “I would that I could save him. But he has confessed. He is against us. And I am loyal to my King and to my homeland. What can I do?”
Valeria had no answers. “I do not know,” she whispered. What else could she say? There was nothing. Nothing, it seemed, that anyone could say, or do.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MEETINGS
MEETINGS
“Lady Grey?”
It was dark, the night moonless. Valeria, asleep in the lodgings Arthur had found for her, stirred restlessly.
“Lady Grey?” the voice whispered again, this time cutting through her dreams.
“Yes?” Valeria sat up.
She moved her head, to try and find the source of the whisper. Then she sat very still. At her throat, she could feel the steel edge of a weapon.
“Are you awake?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I am Claudia von Bergmann, daughter of the Lord of Alpenstein.”
“Charmed. I am Lady Valeria Grey,” Valeria whispered. She checked herself. Had she really just given a perfect societal answer, with a steel dagger pressed to her throat? “What are you doing here, Miss von Bergmann?” Only after she had whispered it, did she realize she spoke in German, the same language that the disembodied voice at her ear had spoken.
“I am here for Henry. I bear a message from Ernst,” the woman's voice whispered in German.
Valeria went very still.
“Ernst.” The name was a question. She could not believe it was the same Ernst. But...
“The Count von Aichelburg,” the woman – Claudia, that was her name! – replied.
“Oh.”
Valeria, swallowing hard, realized her heart was beating far too fast. There was nothing she could do to stop it.
“I know the count,” she whispered. What else could she say?
“Good.”
The pressure released a fraction. Valeria felt relief flood through her. It was crippling. She was about to ask permission to go to the lavatory, when she checked, abruptly.
“You know Henry? My brother?” That fact had not sunk in until that moment, swamped as it was by Ernst.
“He is my life.”
The woman's voice was hard, passionate. Whoever she was, she clearly meant it. Valeria blinked surprised. Her brother Henry – rosy-cheeked, dreamy Henry – had inspired this fierce devotion?
“I am glad to hear of it,” she said, cautiously. “Miss von Bergmann?”
“Yes?”
“If you could lower the dagger?”
She smiled, brilliantly, as the knife was abruptly lowered, and turned around.
“You look like him,” the woman said, softly.
“Thank you,” Valeria whispered.
Looking up at her captor, Valeria was struck first by her hair. Beautifully glossy, it cascaded down loosely over her shoulders, a river of dark auburn in the light of the lanterns.
“Don't thank me yet,” the woman said harshly, her fierceness belying her gentle appearance. “I have not spared you. Nor will I, until you pledge an oath.”
Valeria blinked, surprised. “What faith have I to swear? I love Henry. And Ernst...”
“He is your life?”
“He is.”
“Good,” she agreed. “Then that is your oath. You are with us, then?”
“Of course!” Valeria agreed, passionately. “Tell me what I must do!”
“Very well,” the woman outlined the plan.
Ten minutes later, leaving as silently as she had arrived, she was gone.
Valeria, elated, said a prayer. She could rescue Henry! She really could. And maybe, just perhaps, she would see Ernst again.
She could not stop smiling.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LIBERATED
LIBERATED
At the prison in Altenfeld, everything was dark. The guards had changed, and it was that time of the night when nothing stirred. Even the dogs in the camp had stopped barking. Henry blinked, hearing a tap on the wall.
“Henry?” a voice hissed in his ear.
“What?” Henry whispered, still half-asleep. The day after tomorrow, they would try him for treason. The next day, he would probably die. He was surprised that he had fallen asleep, but glad of it, and more surprised to be awoken now, so cruelly.
“Henry?” the voice whispered again.
“Yes?”
Suddenly, Henry recognized the voice. It couldn't be. It was not possible.
“Ernst?”
“It is me,” the voice confirmed. “Ernst, Count von Aichelburg,” the voice said in easily-comprehensible English. “Now, Lord Grey, do you think you could sit up? Good.”
“Ernst!” Henry grinned, standing, and embraced his friend. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, if you insist on talking loud enough to wake the guards, I might not be able to complete my mission,” Ernst said, dryly. “I am here to rescue you.”
“Me?” Henry laughed. “But...”
“But you have a few minutes while the guards patrolling out there are across the wall from us. Do you want to follow me?” Ernst blinked, and waited while Henry turned to the window and then ducked, moving silently to stand in the shadow beyond the starlight. “Good,” Ernst continued. “I thought you would. Good man,” Ernst breathed, as Henry quietly, so as not to alert the guards, stepped back toward the gap in the window where Ernst had removed some of the boards.
“How?” Henry breathed, as he wriggled through the gap, striving for quiet.
“I will tell you when we both survive this mad venture,” Ernst breathed.
Henry nodded, chastened, and wriggled through the space. He was amazed he had managed it. A month before, his shoulders would not have made it. Had he really become so emaciated? He shuddered. No wonder Valeria...
“Valeria?” he whispered, suddenly thinking of her. He’d thought he’d dreamed her visit. Was she really here? “Where?”
“She is in safe hands,” Ernst assured him. “Now, will you kindly hush until we cross the lawn? Good.”
With Henry out, Ernst followed suit, wriggling through the gap that he had made, and then joining Henry. Together they breathed deeply for a moment, then turned to one another.
“The gate?” Henry suggested. “It is not guarded at this time, and...”
“Thank you,” Ernst breathed, in genuine gratitude. “That was the one piece of information we did not have.”
“We?”
Ernst sighed. “I will explain later. Now please. If you will follow me across the gate? I understand that this is rather urgent.”
Together they raced
to the gate, keeping to the shadows. They slipped over. Henry and Ernst’s officer training came to the fore, and they moved silently, keeping to the darkness.
Two minutes later, the firing started. Weaving, as they had been taught, they dodged bullets and ran for the fence.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
REUNION
REUNION
It was dark, and cold, the night still moonless. There was one way into the Baron von Bergmann’s castle that no one else knew of: a trapdoor, built centuries before, that led down to the cellars.
Moving silently as shadows, Ernst and Henry, breathless from the ride up the hill through the surrounding woodland, slipped through the trapdoor and into the cavernous space of the cellar beyond.
“Claudia!”
“Henry...”
The two embraced in the chapel-like hall in the cellar of the castle. Once again, it was lit with the candles in the candelabrum. This time, four people stood alone in the empty gold-lit space.
Standing back a little way from the two lovers, Valeria and Ernst watched them embrace. They both felt something move within their hearts. They, too, felt the elation of that reunion.
“You are safe!” Claudia breathed. She stood back from him, studying him as if to assure herself that he was whole. If she noticed the emaciation, the beard and the white streak in his hair, they certainly did not repel her. She embraced him again. “You are safe.”
“You saved me,” Henry replied.
“You let me go, all those months ago, in the woods.”
Then there was silence, except for the sound of their kisses.
Across the room, Ernst looked down at Valeria.
Valeria, her eyes dark in the candle-light, looked back.
Wordless, they walked across the room, leaving the reunited couple in privacy.
Valeria felt the warmth of Ernst brush against her as she slipped through the door.
The Gentleman’s Challenge Page 6
