Authors: Jane Aiken Hodge
âAnd when all is finished, and the acolytes let you forth again, you will close all behind them, and return to your own place, and speak not a word of what you have seen and done?'
âI promise.'
âNot to your nearest and dearest, not to your mother or your lover, neither under torture nor under fear of your life.'
âI promise.' And, how unreasonable, she thought, her irritation at this elaborate mumbo-jumbo suddenly rising in a flood to give her unexpected courage.
She needed it at once. âAnd if you fail us in any point of this,' he went on, âdo you devote yourself to the vengeance of the Star, which is more horrible than the vengeance of ordinary men, because slower and more subtle?'
âI do.'
âTo be no longer even a woman â miserable creation of the left hand of God â but a thing, a death in life, mindless, speechless, an example to others. Out of your own mouth, do you condemn yourself to this, should you betray us?'
She could not help it: she hesitated for a moment. Then: âI do.'
âIt is well. Remember, woman, that the arm of the Star can stretch around the globe, the memory of the Star is like the
memory of God, and the vengeance of the Star is more bitter than death.'
âI will remember.' And, it's blasphemy, she thought, and, really rather absurd: the arm of the Star, indeed. But she was glad, just the same, that it seemed to be over.
The speaker had turned away from her to summon the acolytes. âIt is well. I am satisfied. Let the council chamber be freed from the presence of these inferior creations of God.'
But as the acolytes moved forward to lead them away, another voice spoke up from the crowd of hooded figures, who had spread out into a loose semi-circle to watch and listen. âMost excellent Star, should we not know who the woman is?'
The simple, practical question seemed to take them all aback, and, surprisingly, it was Mrs. Brett who answered. âI may be merely an inferior creature,' she said, âbut I have been guardian of the gates for more than fifty years, and I have never heard such a question asked in the house of the Star. Do you ask each other to throw off your cowls and show your faces? Do you, when a new member is initiated, ask him his name, or do you let two of his brothers vouch for him? Most excellent Star, I claim that this suggestion is an affront to the secrecy of the Star.'
âYes â well,' the man they called the Star hesitated for the first time. âThat's rather another thing, you know.' And then, recapturing his dignity. âThe word of even one of the Sons of the Star is like the word of God, but you are merely a woman.'
âJust so. And therefore, I am sure, after I made my request at the last meeting that that night's Star made his own enquiries, where enquiries should be made. To him I appeal.'
âShe's right, most excellent Star' â how maddening it was not to be able to recognise voices â âenquiries have been made, and have proved satisfactory on every point.'
And that was a surprising thing, thought Juana.
âMade by you?' This was another voice.
âNo, by last month's Star. As you know, he is not here tonight.'
âBut you vouch for him and for her.' The leader obviously felt it was time he got the meeting under control. âYour life for their life, your blood for their blood, your death for their death?'
âI do.'
âVery well, Brother of the Ragged Staff. You will give your symbol to the junior acolyte, in token of this. And now, we
have lost too much time. Remove these talking women, and let us to business.'
Listening to the key grinding in the lock on the other side of the cell door, Juana looked apprehensively around at the high roof and damp-smeared walls of the cell. Suppose the door was not unlocked, how long would they last?
âWe can talk now, until we open the panel.' Mrs. Brett settled on the chair with a sigh of relief. âI'm sorry about all that. I hope it didn't frighten you too much. I didn't expect that last month's Star would have left already. Tonight's has always been more difficult.'
âYou know him? Who is he?' They were speaking in whispers.
âThe less you know, child, the better.'
âBut when I'm on my own?' She could not help a shudder at the thought. âHow shall I tell you who says what?'
âThey all have their symbols, received when they are admitted as Sons of the Star. One on the front of the cowl, its replica in the pocket, to be handed in as identification when necessary. You heard.'
âYes, I see. But will I be able to tell them from here?'
âYou will have to. And you'll find you can. The symbols are picked out in some kind of strange paint that catches the light. But it's another reason why I have known, for some time, that I should have to give up. I have been finding it increasingly difficult to tell them apart. Ah!' Once again the leaden sound of the gong had echoed through the wall. âThey are about to close the great doors. Count ten, child, slowly, then blow out the candle and open the panel. Watch as if your life depended on it, which it does; and not a sound till it's closed again.'
â⦠Eight, nine, ten.' When Juana blew out the candle, the darkness in the cell was absolute and it took her what seemed an age to feel her way back to the door and fumble for the rough place in the rock above it. But at last the panel slid back and she found herself looking straight at the council table and the cowled figures seated round it, all clearly illuminated by the star-shaped lamp. The leader was speaking: â⦠The news is bad, brothers. The day of Portugal's liberation has been postponed again. The Czar of Russia has refused to ratify d'Oubril's treaty with the French. Instead, he and the Prussians are conspiring against Napoleon, and the French army at Bayonne â the one
our friend Junot was to have brought to our help â has been ordered to Germany.'
âIs this certain?' The speaker rose to his feet and Juana saw how the light of the central lamp caught the silver lion on his cowl.
âMost certain, Brother of the Lion. I have it here, in Junot's own hand. The messenger reached me only today.'
âIt's always the same: fine promises and no performance.' This speaker had a silver hand on his cowl. âI vote, most excellent Star, that we leave waiting for the French and take action on our own account. The whole country fears us; the army is away on the coast; the Prince Regent is at Mafra. We have our agents there, and at Sintra and Queluz with his wife and the old Queen. Let us strike now, fast and hard. With the House of Braganza extinct, who more able to take over the country than the Sons of the Star?'
âYou are ill-informed, Brother of the Silver Hand. The Prince Regent returned to Belem today. But I have more news for you; there is a plot against him afoot among the English â may they rot in the hell they deserve.'
âThe English plotting against Dom John?' If Juana had not been so cold, and so frightened, she would have found something rather ridiculous about the way each speaker in turn bobbed to his feet so that the light caught his silver identifying emblem. Only the acolytes standing submissively to right and left of the Star, had none.
âYes. Lord St. Vincent is an impatient man. He does not know, yet, that the French have marched away from Bayonne. He still expects an invasion and has been trying to persuade Dom John that he and his family should sail for the Brazils, and safety. Our brother at Mafra has done his best to persuade the Prince Regent to go but unfortunately without success, since his sloth is even greater than his cowardice.'
âUnfortunately?'
âYou do not think, Brother of the Silver Hand. Why murder the Braganzas if we can persuade them to disgrace themselves in the eyes of their people? The assassin's is but a clumsy weapon, at the best of times. Murders make martyrs. You, of all people, should know that.'
âBut if they refuse to go?' This was the Brother of the Lion.
âSt. Vincent proposes to kidnap them. He plans a great review
of the British fleet. Dom John and as many of his family as possible will be lured aboard the
Hibernia
and carried off to the Brazils. Nothing could be better for our purpose. There will be a few days of complete confusion. We alone will be ready. Those of the royal family who remain in Portugal must be disposed of, at once, with the exception of one of the Princes â it doesn't much matter which. The Prince Regent will be disgraced by his flight, and his wife dead â there must be no bungling there, lest she bring down the Spanish about our ears ⦠And then, what more natural than that the Sons of the Star should come forward to bring order out of chaos and rule in the name of the young Prince? The murders, of course, will have been no affair of ours; merely accidental results of the confused state of the country. We will be the law-givers, the restorers of order: I doubt if we shall even need the Prince as figurehead for long.'
Juana was shuddering so much that her teeth chattered. She had a moment's wild, irrational fear that the noise they made might be heard in the council chamber.
But the conspirators were busy now with practical details of their atrocious plan. The Brother of the Lion was to dispose of the Regent's estranged wife, Carlota Joaquina, at her
quinta
of Ramalhao at Sintra. The Brother of the Silver Hand would deal with the old mad Queen at Queluz. Others were told off to look after other members of the royal family who might not be involved in the proposed kidnapping.
âYou will be ready, day and night.' The leader summed it up.
âAnd the signal?' asked a brother who had not spoken before and who had his back to Juana so that she could not see his symbol.
âThe signal will be the kidnapping. We will be ready. No one else will. And now â the night draws on â we must be in our places by morning. Who knows, our chance may come tomorrow?' He raised his hands as if in blessing. âSons of the Star, we meet only to part; we separate that we may come together; we pledge ourselves, one and all to work without fear and without fail for the greater glory of the Star. What is the penalty for failure?'
âDeath.' The voices echoed strangely.
âAnd the doom of treachery?'
âThe death in life that is worse than death.'
âSo be it. And now, brothers, may the Star speed you on your way, and make you worthy of its light.'
The two acolytes rose, as if this was their signal, and turned toward the big doors, and as they did so, Juana touched the rough stone with a shaking hand and the panel slid into place.
âGood,' whispered Mrs. Brett. âNow, light the candle, quickly.'
But this was more than Juana could do. Working in the dark, her shaking hands were incapable of striking the light she needed. She felt panic rising in her and at the same moment her grandmother's firm, cold hand took away the tinder-box. âNever mind, you have done admirably.' And then, as the candle flickered into life under her steady hands: âSit down here by me, as if you'd been asleep most of the time. Your head in my lap. That's it.'
It was horrible to be able to hear nothing, now, from the big cavern. âSuppose they don't let us out?' whispered Juana.
âThere will be no one to admit them to their next meeting.'
Juana shuddered. âBut they may be running the country in a month's time.'
âI doubt that. Ah!' The key grated in the lock on the other side of the door and it swung open to reveal the two acolytes. Behind them, the big cavern was empty and dark. Juana watched, shivering, as the two men went silently to work in the little cell, pushing the faintly smouldering brazier aside, preparing another and changing the guttering candle. Then, without a word said, they left the cell and moved, side by side across the cavern and out through the big doors. Once more, Juana heard the sea roaring below, before the doors shut it out and Mrs. Brett drove the big bolt home.
Going back, the climb seemed endless, even to Juana. Mrs. Brett looked ghastly: her breath laboured, her hands clutched like claws at the guide-rope by the stairs. Juana helped her where she could, but much of the time the stairway was too narrow. Once, Mrs. Brett swayed in front of her, and she wondered, for an endless moment, whether she would be able to catch her, or whether they would fall together to certain death in the cavern below.
But at last they reached the door that meant they were entering the castle itself. âSilently now.' Mrs. Brett spoke with difficulty.
The stairway was wider here, and Juana could help her up it and at last out through the clothes-press and into her own room.
âHelp me to bed, child. We'll talk in the morning.'
âBut, grandmother, shouldn't we do something?'
âThere's nothing we can do tonight, since we've no messenger. Pray, if you like. And hope Mr. Varlow comes early. At least he's never failed me.' She fell back with a sigh of exhaustion on the big bed. âSleep well, Juana. You've earned it.'
But not even her own exhaustion could bring sleep to Juana. She lay wide-eyed in the darkness, suffering again the events of the day. Next time she must go alone down the winding stair, counting the steps â did she remember how many? Next time she would be alone to face the Sons of the Star. But would there be a next time? Suppose their atrocious plan of murder and usurpation had already succeeded. If there had been any doubt in her mind, before, about whether she could really play the terrifying role for which her grandmother (and Gair Varlow) had picked her out, now she knew she had no choice. In England, politics had not concerned her much. She had hated Napoleon because everyone else did, and been a Tory, because her father was a Whig. But this was not politics, it was murder.
Shivering, but not with cold, she thought: this was what Gair Varlow wanted me for. This was why he brought me to Forland House and wooed me among nightingales and roses. For this. For murder, for conspiracy, for possible death. There had been a moment, back in St. Roque, when she had begun to understand something of this and had wanted, bitterly, passionately, to walk out of the great church doors, back down the stinking lanes, back to the ship, and England. Why had she not gone?