Deadly Peril (47 page)

And so when one of Müller’s assassins marched up to a lackey and barked out the order that the air was far too putrid to breathe and the tunnel needed clearing, the lackey dozing in a dark corner outside the cells, immediately jumped to life, went off and returned with a set of long keys. The assassin followed, the heavy grate was found, the shackle unlocked, the bolt drawn back, and the grate lifted. For his effort, the lackey had his throat cut. Prince Viktor and his men silently scrambled into the dungeon, and the lackey’s lifeless form was tossed down the hole, and the grate replaced. But it was not bolted.

T
HE
C
ASTLE
’
S
expansive audience chamber was noisy and crowded with noblemen gathered for the Margrave’s morning audience. Courtiers were clustered in conversation, liveried footmen moved amongst the crumpled velvets and tatty furs, with trays laden with foodstuffs for the Margrave’s table. Blank-faced soldiers of the Margrave’s personal guard stood to attention at the entrance doors and lined a wall hung with an enormous tapestry proclaiming in woven detail the glorious military history of Midanich.

The Captain of the Guard stood silent and grim-faced by his ruler’s high-back chair, ever vigilant. The daily whisperings of discontent were growing louder as the food stores became ever more depleted. Last week an assassination plot had been uncovered. The week before that, a councilor was discovered bribing soldiers to allow him and his wife and son to flee the castle under cover of darkness. Reports received confirmed that Prince Viktor’s rebels had taken the town of Herzfeld and now controlled the entire south of the country. With no word from Emden—there had not been a pigeon post in the past sennight—it was assumed that the merchant town had also fallen to the rebels. and if not the rebels, then foreign troops in alliance with Prince Viktor.

And if this wasn’t enough to try the resources and patience of Captain Westover, the most loyal of the Margrave’s servants, there was the disturbing fact that His Highness was spending more and more time away from his duties and his court closeted with his sister in her apartments—apartments which were forbidden to Westover, and which remained off-limits to all but the Prince and Princess, and her retinue of mute servants. This made Westover’s prime objective—to protect the Margrave’s person at all times—nigh on impossible upon these occasions.

Baron Haderslev was of the opinion that come the spring thaw, Ernst’s tenure as Margrave would meet with a brutal end when the castle was forced to surrender to Prince Viktor. But Captain Westover had taken an oath to serve and protect his Margrave, and had done just that under Margrave Leopold, and would do so for his legitimate heir, Ernst, and protect him and his sister with his life. Westover was doggedly loyal and a believer in the divine right of kings—that God had ordained Prince Ernst to rule after his father, and thus only God could remove him. And so he told the Court Chamberlain. He would uphold Ernst’s right to rule for as long as there was breath in his body, and breath in the bodies of his men, who to a man were loyal to him.

W
ITH
HEART
THUMPING
, but angular features devoid of his thoughts, Alec’s gaze swept the audience chamber from painted and gilded ceiling down to the long gallery opposite the tapestry wall, where the women of the court were permitted to view proceedings from behind latticed screens, and out across to the far end of the chamber where, upon a dais, the Margrave sat in state on an enormous ebony chair, or behind a table at meal times. He remembered it all as if it were only yesterday when, as a fresh-faced under-secretary, he had accompanied Sir Gilbert Parsons as part of the English delegation. And just as the chamber had been then, it was now crowded with noblemen going about their business. Which surprised Alec, given the castle was under siege conditions. But nothing was as it seemed, and none more so than on this day.

As Alec, General Müller, and their escort shouldered through the crowd, heads turning with interest to see why they were being ordered to make way, they were caught off-guard by the acrid stench of the great unwashed. Sour body odor, disheveled clothes, inexpertly powdered wigs which looked tired and in need of grooming, were glaring indicators none of these men had been outside the castle walls in months. And with the turn in the weather and the war now on their doorstep, nothing and no one had entered the castle either.

But Viktor did not want unnecessary bloodshed, or troops on either side to die for little gain. Usurp Ernst’s position as Margrave in a peaceful coup and the country could again be at peace. But to do so, he needed the Margrave’s household guard to stand down, and he was confident the nobles loyal to Ernst would then bow down to him without a fight.

Noting the haunted expressions on the gaunt faces of these reeking noblemen, and their furtive glances, Alec was confident that whatever loyalty these men had shown Ernst upon his elevation to the Margravate it had been all but eroded since Leopold’s death. They might talk amongst themselves, wear their best velvets, however in need of good laundering, and pretend that all was normality within Ernst’s dominion, but it was obvious they remained in the chamber under sufferance and fear; when the time came, Alec was certain Viktor would have no trouble in gaining the allegiance of the heads of the first families of Midanich.

Colonel Müller (for here in the Castle he was no General), however, looked neither left nor right at the noblemen surrounding him, and strode on with purpose, ignoring the sourness which assailed his nostrils, and keeping his heavy chin elevated above his linen stock. He had a gloved hand to the hilt of his rapier, and secured under his cloak, and under his arm, was the casket of jewelry belonging to Olivia, Duchess of Romney-St. Neots, which Alec planned to use to coax the Princess Joanna out from the shadows.

Müller was ready for any eventuality, and when Prince Viktor thought the time right to show himself in this chamber, would defend his stepson with his life; so, too, this Englishman beside him. So he was put on the alert when into his path stepped the Court Chamberlain. Baron Haderslev dismissed the liveried footman with a wave, and with a quick glance at Alec which told him he had no idea who he was, said through his teeth,

“This is not the best time, Colonel!”

“Good to be back, Herr Baron,” Müller replied loudly and evenly. “As you can see for yourself at long last, I had a safe journey from Emden, despite the icy roads, fog as thick as your mother’s cabbage soup, and barbarian rebels lurking in every hovel from here to Wittmund!”

Up ahead there was a yelp, someone let out a bark of laughter, and then in response the noblemen laughed too, the half-hearted laughter rippling back amongst the crowd, who had no idea what or who was fueling their amusement, but it was best to laugh so as not to be singled out.

Müller’s brows drew over his large nose and his gaze darted toward the dais, but his view was blocked by the crowd surging forward shoulder to shoulder, in curiosity and trepidation.

“What’s going on?” Müller asked in an altogether different voice.

“’Tis madness.
Madness
,” Haderslev hissed, a glance over his shoulder, which told Alec he feared being overheard, and thus feared such disloyalty would uncover him a traitor. “You should have stayed in Emden until someth—”

“Take us to His Highness, Haderslev. This here is Alec Halsey—the Baron Aurich.”

Baron Haderslev staggered back a pace, as if struck. He could hardly believe it. He put a gloved hand to his chest, as if he had a sudden pain in the heart. He stared at Alec with wide eyes, terrified, and finally in recognition. “My God! It
is
you! You came!? I never thought—” He glanced at Müller. “We never thought you would!”

Alec saw the glance and understood instantly. “Why wouldn’t I? Your master is holding my best friend hostage. But perhaps that was just a ploy—telling Ernst I would come for Cosmo, even when you thought I wouldn’t—to suit a much grander plan?”

The latter part of the sentence was directed at General Müller, who confessed evenly, “Yes. To keep the Margrave occupied until such time as we could convince Westover to capitulate, or we found a way to infiltrate the castle, whichever happened first. Of course,” he added with a wry smile at Alec, “the Countess never wavered in her conviction that you would indeed heed the call and come to plead for your friend’s release.”

“That you allowed Ernst to use my best friend as his plaything, all to further your own ends, I will never forgive,” Alec stated with suppressed anger. “I understand why you did so—for the greater good. But it doesn’t make me in charity with what you did. And now, here we all are!” he added bitterly, and then addressed the Court Chamberlain. “I presume Westover is as intractable as ever or you’d have let Müller know differently by now?”

“Unfortunately, that is so, Herr Baron,” Haderslev apologized. “Westover is determinedly loyal.”

Alec threw back the front of his gray woolen cloak over a shoulder and stripped off his gloves, suddenly uncomfortably warm in this crowded stinking room.

“Then there is nothing for it. Westover needs his eyes opened. And at once. But first, you’d best have this chamber cleared out. She’ll never show herself before an audience.” He jerked his head at the lattice screens of the gallery “You will have a ringside seat from over there. Make certain Westover does too. There’ll not be a repeat performance.” He stuck out his hand to Müller. “I’ll take the casket now.” When he had the jewelry box in hand and Haderslev had yet to move, he waved a hand at him. “Lead the way, Herr Baron. Time is of the essence, if you want to avoid a bloody struggle.”

Haderslev hesitated, brows raised at General Müller to offer further explanation. When he did not, he swiveled on a heel, and with the sweep of an arm, and a bark of command, ordered those in front of him to make way.

Müller and Alec followed, without another glance at one another. They discovered, just as Prince Viktor and his men had discovered minutes earlier, that Sir Cosmo Mahon was not being held captive in the Castle dungeons after all.

S
IR
C
OSMO
and his valet Matthias were only a few feet away, standing before the dais, with heads bowed. So they could not make a run for it, not that that was likely, given they barely had the energy to stand and the room was full of soldiers, two of the Margrave’s bodyguards stood to attention behind them. Both men were resigned. They had been prisoners just a handful of days shy of three months. It felt like three years. Sir Cosmo’s soiled clothes no longer fitted, his stockings which had once been white were grey and full of ladders. His hair was not only matted but also infested with lice, and he carried the sores of malnutrition. But neither had stubble; their cheeks and chin were clean shaven.

The only thing keeping Sir Cosmo on his feet was Matthias, who was supporting him at the elbow. And the only thing keeping Matthias from shaking with despair was that the soldier at his back was his friend Hansen, and Hansen had promised, when the time came, to end their lives as quickly and as painlessly as possible. He had shown Matthias the dagger he kept in his boot, and assured him he always kept the blade hair-splittingly sharp.

The Margrave was eating his breakfast, and to amuse himself and his courtiers he had offered his prisoners a last meal. He wanted them to eat up, to enjoy the moment. But as neither man was the least interested in the plate of stewed fruit and nuts placed at the scuffed toes of their shoes, and merely stared down at the floor, unmoved and unappreciative, Ernst grew increasingly angry to be so defied. He threw the odd nut at them to elicit a response, which sent his courtiers laughing, but the two men were too drained of hope to even react to this puerile torment. He was about to give the order for the Englishmen to finally be taken away, to the dungeons, and there to rot, when the crowd parted down its center.

Coming towards him was the only man who mattered.

Ernst was so disbelieving he broke off mid-sentence, the two prisoners no longer of interest or given another thought. He dropped his fork and stared open-mouthed, and with an expression of one who is witness to a specter. He never thought this day would come, despite wishing and praying for it every day since Alec Halsey’s escape ten years ago.

His first thought was a vain one. He was not properly attired for such an occasion. He should have been wearing his best frock coat, the one with gold spangles. And his best boots, the black leather and silk pair with covered buttons that went all the way up over his knee. And his wig wasn’t elaborate enough. He’d not paid attention to his face. He was without rouge and powder and his eyebrows had not been penciled in since the day before. That he was not looking his sartorial best for this reunion made him irritable and petulant. His second thought was that he should be feeling furious, murderously so, that the man had the supreme audacity to stride up to him as if it were only yesterday they had been sitting back, boot heels up on a footstool, enjoying a good port and a laugh. But he didn’t feel anger, he felt apprehensive. He didn’t want his sister to find out about Alec Halsey’s return, not until he was ready to tell her; she would monopolize his time; and hadn’t he told her time and again that Alec Halsey was first and foremost
his
friend?

When Captain Westover stepped forward and spoke at his ear something about the Court Chamberlain clearing the chamber of courtiers, Ernst waved him away impatiently without taking his eyes from Alec. He wouldn’t allow anything or anyone to spoil this moment.

“Yes! Yes! Get them out. Get them
all
out of here. And send that lot away, too!” Ernst demanded waving a lace ruffled hand at the row of guards standing to attention along the tapestry-covered wall. “You leave also!”

As Ernst made no mention of the two prisoners, they were ignored, along with the guards standing behind them. But then Hansen muttered to his fellow guard that if he wished to earn merit points with their captain and the Court Chamberlain why didn’t he help shift those nobles dragging their feet to take their leave; he, Hansen would keep an eye on the prisoners. And so off went this second guard, much to the satisfaction of Hansen, who then gave Matthias a friendly nudge in the back and said in his ear,