Deadly Peril (36 page)

“Why should you? You were exhausted after being up all night assisting me with those letters of passage for the travelers wanting to return to Holland, and there was nothing unusual in soldiers guarding cargo. The military have control of everything and everyone. Let’s return to our barge and some warmth. Not even this cape can keep out the arctic temperatures for long.”

Alec indicated to the soldier to lead the way back up on deck.

“But why were there pigeons in here with the gunpowder and muskets?” Hadrian Jeffries asked, following at Alec’s back. “Doesn’t that seem an odd assortment?”

“Not if they are the very things you want to take,” Alec replied calmly. “It makes sense to have everything in the one place—on the one barge. And the rebels were particular about what they wanted. They could have ransacked all the barges, taken food, taken hostages, taken coin and jewels, and our sacks of coal. All highly-prized booty. And yet all they took, they took from this barge and no other. Only those couple of bales were left behind.”

“They probably would have taken those too, if they’d had the time!” the valet scoffed.

“Oh, but they did have the time,” Alec stated confidently. “I believe they had all the time in the world. There is no spillage, nothing to show they were in a hurry to get the goods and run. The lock wasn’t broken or the door forced open. If they’d been in a hurry, surely they would have fumbled, stumbled, dropped a sack or two? Broken a crate? The bird droppings and feathers indicate nervous birds, nothing more. Given the noise of gunfire, that is no surprise. But I am very sure they were handled with care. And as nothing of value was left behind, in here or outside, or on the deck or towpath, I’d say they were given every assistance—”

“—by Colonel Müller’s men?” Hadrian Jeffries practically hissed.

“No names, Jeffries,” Alec said smoothly, continuing to converse in English, and confidently waving the soldier on when he glanced over his shoulder at the mention of his colonel by name. “We don’t want to alert our uniformed friends we are onto them.”

“Are we onto them, sir?”

Alec paused at the base of the shallow steps leading up on deck, and turned to face his valet. As the soldier had gone up ahead of them, they were left in pitch darkness.

“I have no way of knowing if all or some of the soldiers guarding this convoy are involved, or indeed, if their colonel is, also,” Alec said quietly into the darkness. “Though, given the ease in which this barge was cleared of its contents…”

“You think the battle was staged for our benefit—well, for your benefit, sir?” the valet asked in surprise, a glance up the steps to the pool of light.

“Or for the benefit of those few soldiers loyal to the Margrave, and so as not to cast suspicion a particular way until this cargo was secured behind rebel lines, yes. Come, we had best disembark before suspicions are raised as to our particular interest in this barge. Watch your head,” Alec advised as he ducked, a hand to his tricorne, to go back up the shallow steps into the cold night air.

“Sir! But why the pigeons?” Jeffries asked, pausing on the steps. “I presume they are not being used for pie?”

Alec turned to look down into his valet’s face, suddenly illuminated by candlelight as the soldier peered down into the void, lantern swinging.

“No. Not for pie,” Alec said with a smile. “They are too valuable and important to end up baked in pastry. Have you ever heard of the pigeon post, Hadrian?”

“Letter carriers? Yes. There are dovecotes all over Holland for the purpose.”

“And here. Emden’s principal dovecot is in the loft of the Customs House. Did you notice the popholes and landing platforms under the roofline?”

“You think the pigeons that were in this barge were stolen from the Custom’s House? Why?”

“Any town under siege needs a way to communicate with the outside world, efficiently and fast. Men could be sent on horseback or on foot, by ship, or in our case by trekschuit, but all are slow and dangerous. They have to cross enemy territory, or in the case of a ship, outmaneuver those pirates at the entrance to the Ems estuary. A note is much more likely to reach its destination, and more quickly, if sent by carrier pigeon. Take away a town’s communication and they are further isolated, and another step closer to surrender.”

“That’s crafty. Removing those pigeons from their dovecote would take some planning. So to my reckoning this was no ambush but a planned military operation, of which the good colonel would need to have knowledge. Unless he was ambushed himself and taken away by the rebels, because he isn’t here, is he, and—”

“All questions we can ask Colonel Müller,” Alec said in German as he emerged onto the deck to find the officer in question waiting for him. “Ah! Colonel. We were just wondering as to your whereabouts, and if you survived the rebel attack. And here you are, none the worse for the ordeal. And I see you’ve changed your stripes, too…”

The valet understood what his master had said in German, just did not comprehend what he meant by it, or his suddenly buoyant tone, until he came up the steps onto the deck and into the candlelight from the lantern. And there was Colonel Müller, and behind him half a dozen soldiers. All had their swords drawn and all were pointing the tips menacingly in Alec’s direction.

N
INETEEN

‘
V
ERY
DROLL
, Herr Baron,” Colonel Müller replied to Alec’s less-than-subtle quip that he had changed his stripes, and thus sides in the civil war, though he did not refute the assertion. He signaled for his men to put away their swords. “We will return to your barge, Herr Baron, where it is warm, and where you can be protected from the
elements
.”

He signaled for Alec go before him and follow the soldier with the lantern, and with Hadrian Jeffries at his master’s back, followed them off the barge. On the towpath the soldiers formed a guard around master and servant.

“I would advise you and your man not to attempt anything foolish for the remainder of our journey or—”

“That is hardly necessary advice, Colonel,” Alec stated wearily.

“—it will not be you who suffers for your recalcitrance, but those dear to you. Understood?”

“Understood, Colonel. But again, unnecessary.”

“It’s General Müller of Prince Viktor’s own regiment.”

Alec made him a grandiloquent bow. “I stand corrected. Accept my apologies, and my congratulations. Though I suspect you have been a general in the prince’s army from the start of the civil war…?”

General Müller’s only acknowledgment of this assertion was to give a small nod. He was about to march the Herr Baron to his cabin, when one of his men approached, saluted and came forward to whisper a piece of urgent news. There was a terse exchange between the soldier and his superior, and then the soldier went away with his instructions, disappearing into the thick fog from whence he had appeared. Müller sent the guard with the two prisoners on ahead, and half an hour elapsed before he came down the shallow steps into the warmth of Alec’s cabin.

A
LEC
WAS
STANDING
in that part of the deckhouse which had been curtained off for his private use. The damask curtain used for this purpose had been torn down, and thus the space was no longer private, and two soldiers stood guard at either entrance to the trekschuit. He was inspecting the damage to the pair of stays—or as Selina had called them
jumps
—caused by the stray bullet which had killed the soldier who had gallantly tried to retrieve her ribbon. The bullet had sliced through the front of the material, shaving off the outer layers as a nutmeg grater finely shaves the outer skin off the nut, just barely touching the quilting but enough to burst the stitching and cause the cotton to pop out, irreparably damaging the garment. By his dispassionate reckoning, had the bullet’s trajectory been a mere inch higher it would have entered Selina’s breast.

He quickly put aside that horrifying thought and inspected the garment’s construction, and was all admiration for the ingenuity of its design in concealing its precious cargo. The padded quilting along with the intricately stitched pockets helped smooth out the contents so that when worn the jumps looked no different to any other female undergarment, except that the hook and eyes drew the two sides together across the breasts… Finding his thoughts wandering again to the unimaginable, he put the jumps aside on the camp bed and looked about for the strong box he had left for Selina to deposit the jewelry into for safekeeping. And that’s when he saw General Müller. He had been so absorbed in his inspection he had not heard the soldier enter the cabin.

Müller stripped off his leather gloves and put them in the crown of his tricorne which he then handed to a subordinate saying with a nod at the pair of stays on the bed, “A close call…”

Alec had no wish to discuss Selina’s undergarments with this man—with any man. And when Müller picked up the garment and examined it, fingers prodding deep in the little hidden pockets, to convince himself all its hidden treasures had been found, Alec felt his face glow hot with embarrassment and an unreasonable anger.

“An ingenious method of hiding a King’s ransom,” Müller mused, continuing to poke about in the soft cotton layers. “Your idea?”

“No,” Alec replied brusquely, itching to snatch the stays away.

“I did not think so. You are too chivalrous to put a lady’s life in danger. Still,” Müller continued, turning the garment over, “if the jewels and coin had not been concealed in that way, and provided a layer of protection, there may have been a very different outcome…”

Alec had crossed to the window by the table and was looking out on the view, anywhere but at the soldier as he continued to manhandle Selina’s corset. He wondered if Müller was deliberately goading him, wanting him to do something he regretted. He told himself to remain calm, that he was being irrational. It was only a pair of stays—Yet, they belonged to Selina… He counted to ten, before he found his voice. All he could manage was a curt “yes”.

“You would not know this, but one of the rubies was chipped by the ball that killed Sergeant Schmitt,” Müller told him. He finally dropped the stays on the bed, and joined Alec by the window. “Though there is surprisingly little blood on the stays given his head—”

Alec cut him off.

“I would prefer not to discuss this further. Your soldier lost his life as a casualty of war, and that is regrettable. For his sake, I hope he was killed instantly.”

“He was.”

“Good. Perhaps you can also tell me how Mrs. Jamison-Lewis fares? I left to give her some privacy to change her garments, and expected to find her—and the rest of the passengers—upon my return.”

“Mrs. Jamison-Lewis and the others are being held on another barge, one that is warm, and are being fed and attended to with all the care that can be offered them, given the circumstances.”

“I am pleased to hear it, General. I did not think you an unreasonable man. Perhaps you would now be good enough to take me to join them.”

“You and I will have dinner here,” General Müller stated, and signaled to the two soldiers hovering nearby to go about setting the table with cutlery, plate, and goblets. “You’ll be pleased to know that the females of your party are all holding up well after the regrettable incident on the towpath. The Reverend’s granddaughter was distraught and required a draught of laudanum. One of my aides is also a physician. He offered to examine Mrs. Jamison-Lewis—Please, Herr Baron, do not be alarmed,” Müller added, raising his hand in a gesture of conciliation when Alec clenched his fists. “She is perfectly well. She refused but did accept some liniment for the bruising to her knee—”

“Bruising?”

“Her lady’s maid said she collapsed with shock when the soldier died before her and—”

“She did not tell me—” Alec began then stopped himself.

“Mrs. Jamison-Lewis means a great deal to you, Herr Baron, yes?”

“Yes. We are engaged to be married.”

General Müller bowed his head. “Accept my felicitations. And my thanks for being truthful.”

“I have no reason to hide that information from you. I believe I am a good judge of character, and thus I have every confidence you will accord us the respect that our circumstance deserves.”

Müller indicated the bench on the other side of the set table. “Please, won’t you join me? You must be ravenously hungry since you have not eaten since first light.”

Alec sat where directed and slid the linen napkin across his lap. “Not as hungry as you. Making sure those musket crates, gunpowder kegs, not to mention the crate of pigeons, were spirited away behind Aurich’s walls, must have given you quite the appetite.”

Müller smiled for the first time since returning from the township. He flicked out the skirts of his uniform frock coat and sat across from Alec, then signaled to his hovering subordinates to begin serving dinner.

“Beef stew and some fresh bread, courtesy of the citizens of Aurich, and for their Herr Baron.”

“No pigeon pie on the menu…?” When this made the soldier shake his head with a smile, Alec added, as he took up his soup spoon, “My guess would be those birds are worth more than the muskets and gunpowder combined…?”

“Very true, Lord Halsey. May I call you by your English title? The coronet of marquess better befits you than that of Baron Aurich. Although, you have been most useful to me, and to His Highness, as the Herr Baron. But first, let us eat! We have all night to talk, do we not?”

“As you wish, General,” Alec replied congenially, the aroma of the hot broth making him realize that he was indeed hungry, and it would not do to try and negotiate his freedom, and those of his fellow passengers, on an empty stomach.

The men ate their stew in silence, both relishing its warmth and taste. When Alec was offered the loaf of fresh bread, it was gratefully taken, and he pulled off a chunk, dipping the fluffy white bread into in the rich liquid heavy with onions and spices. With a second helping ladled into their bowls, Alec asked conversationally,

“Would you mind telling me why a high-ranking officer in the Margrave’s army turned traitor and joined the rebels?”