"Yes. In such a situation as this one, I do. Madame Svarinskaya will be up, of course, and you should inform her, as well. She and I will worry until you return." Van Hoek motioned to the four men. "Come. Have your drink and give yourselves time to talk."
"By which you mean you don't want us to follow the Hercegek and his coachman," said Weissenkraft.
"A good precaution, with the Guards coming," said Colonel Broughton as the door closed.
"You said the stable at the Polish house, did you not?" Saint-Germain set out in the broken snow that marked Gronigen's approach to the care-house. "The sleigh is still there?"
"It should be where I left it," said Gronigen, lengthening his stride to keep pace with Saint-Germain, although Saint-Germain was a hand shorter than he.
"Did you notice if he was warm?"
"I told you I saw steam rising from his blood. I didn't touch him but once, and I couldn't tell through my gloves if he was warm or cold." He almost stumbled as Saint-Germain strode on.
"Did you tell anyone in the Polish house about this?" Saint-Germain asked, keeping up his rapid pace.
"Antek, when I told him to fetch the Guards," said Gronigen. "I would guess he told someone about it before he left the house."
"But you don't know for certain," said Saint-Germain, glancing toward the Guard station at the far end of the road where nothing seemed to be happening. "Do you know that Antek has made his report yet?"
"How could I?" Gronigen sounded rancorous. "I came to get you as soon as I told Antek to inform the Guards."
"That's right," said Saint-Germain as he turned toward the Polish house. "You did," he said grimly as he made for the stable and the sleigh with its appalling contents.
Text of a letter from Zozia, Ksiezna Nisko, to Arpad Arco-Tolvay, Hercegek Gyor, written in Krems' code and carried by Salomea to the care-house.
To the man I know as Arpad Arco-Tolvay, Hercegek Gyor,
Hercegek,
There has been so much scandal attached to you in the last ten days that I fear I must change our arrangement: as soon as is possible I am asking you to leave Sankt Piterburkh. Do not wait for the thaw, but leave as soon as there is a sufficient break in the weather to allow you to travel overland to Hungary; the next arrival of the supply-train
should be a good time to leave. If there were some way to nullify the rumors, you might be able to remain, but between the murder of your body-guard and the continuing absence of Lajos Rakoczi, you are too much an object of gossip and speculation that can only lead to problems here.
I have been questioned by Captain Fet of the Sankt Piterburkh Guard, and I am convinced that he believes you have played some role both in the Finn's death and the disappearance of Lajos Rakoczi, and for that matter, my brother agrees with him. I want to think well of you, but there are too many questions being asked, and this cannot continue much longer. You can understand why I have decided that you must depart, for it would be most difficult for my mission to have you unmasked or imprisoned; it would undo all the work I have undertaken here for Poland.
My brother has convinced me that your presence compromises my purposes here, and I find that, regretfully, I must agree with the points he has presented to me. Benedykt has told me that he has heard far too many discreditable things about you to allow you to continue here, for you complicate all my efforts; my brother has assured me that he will be at pains to guard me and support the tasks Stanislas has charged me to accomplish for the benefit of Poland, and to be more attentive to my welfare than he has been since he arrived here. He admits that he has been lax in his duties, but that was because you were so shielding of me that his attentions seemed superfluous. You have done all that you can for me in that capacity now that Benedykt has promised to support me as well as you have done, and better; he and I agree that it would be best for you to leave now, before any more misfortunes befall you.
You have done much good work in Sankt Piterburkh--your departure now will salvage the last of the good opinion you have enjoyed for so many months. If you leave money to endow the care-house for another several months, it is likely that your reputation can, in time, be restored, and the problems of the last several weeks may eventually cease to be spoken of. This would please Stanislas and make my position easier. With Ferenz Ragoczy, Grofok Saint-Germain, still in the city, you could announce your intention to return with him
to Hungary, to aid him in regaining his titles and estates. That would also spare me from having to invent an argument to account for your departure and relieve me of the necessity of risking my mission to protect you.
I thank you for the service you have given me and Poland.
In highest regard,
Zozia, Ksiezna Nisko
February 22nd, 1705
12
For five days the winds had howled over the marshes along the River Neva, bringing more snow and a cold so intense that even the wolves kept to their dens, and the deer remained huddled in their thickets, now nothing more than rounded drifts in the snow. Throughout Sankt Piterburkh, the residents took the example of the animals and stayed in their houses and barracks; work-gangs were crowded into half-finished buildings in order to provide them some protection from the savage storm while they continued their labors. By the evening of the fifth day, the winds were dying down at last, and the leaden clouds were beginning to break up.
"They say the English ship, the
Dauntless,
moored in the mouth of the river has broken apart--crushed by shifting ice," said Hroger in Imperial Latin as he strove to pack the old red-lacquer chest with things they would need on the road.
"The
Koenigen Frika
may meet the same fate, according to the sailor with the broken leg; all the crew is afraid for their ship," said Saint-Germain, taking stock of the various pots, jars, and vials set out on his trestle-table. "Leave as much of this as you judge we can spare. They will have more need of it here than we will traveling."
He was in his burgundy leather riding coat and leather britches, with a warm woolen chemise beneath; his high boots had a turned cuff just below his knee, and he wore a knit-cap on his recently trimmed head.
"The salves and tinctures could be useful," said Hroger, pointing out the ones he thought would be most in demand. "And your sovereign remedy."
"Not that we will benefit from the medicaments," Saint-Germain said calmly.
"The horses might," Hroger observed, selecting rolled lengths of linen. "This old chest, then two for clothes and bedding, and one containing your native earth. That will fill two pack-saddles. We also have the tent we brought from Poland, and the coverings for grain for the horses; the grain can be divided up into sacks and carried on all the saddles, riding and pack. That is the smallest amount that we can take with us from here and be safe."
"Two pack-saddles, then, and shearling blankets for all." Saint-Germain considered. "We have sufficient in the tack and supplies we brought with us."
"For how many horses?" Hroger asked. "Have you worked that out yet?"
"We will need twelve of them, I think," said Saint-Germain. "Three for riding, three for remount, three for packs, and three for reserve."
"That would take most of what is in the Polish stable," said Hroger.
Saint-Germain hesitated, then told him in Frankish, "I have spoken with Zozia, and she has agreed to let us have her pair of Danish Ardennes as pack animals; I have given her my chestnuts in exchange, and the carriage she is so fond of. She is pleased with the arrangement, and that will make our leaving easier, since it will not make it seem that my departure indicates a formal separation from Arco-Tolvay." He indicated his shelf of books. "These will have to stay. There is no way we can take them with us, not traveling as lightly as we must."
"Madame Svarinskaya will be glad of them, and Heer van Hoek," said Hroger with extreme neutrality, his Frankish almost too precise.
"So I hope," said Saint-Germain. "She has been very good to me. So has van Hoek, for that matter."
"How much have you explained to her--to Madame Svarinskaya?" Hroger asked, deliberately bluntly.
"As much as has been needed," he said, a tinge of ruefulness in his admission. "We have lain together only four times. If she wishes to lie with me one more time, she will still be free from the taint of my blood."
"Do you think you should tell her, so she'll understand your nature?" Hroger paused in his sorting to give Saint-Germain his full attention.
"I know it would distress her to learn what I am, and it would cause her much anxiety for no useful reason, fearing that she had been contaminated by my--" He stared at the shuttered window. "It troubles her that I am an alchemist; she would be appalled to learn what else I am."
"Do you think she will lie with you again, at least?" Hroger went on without waiting for Saint-Germain's answer. "We will be on the road a long time, and the blood of game and horses may not be enough to sustain you."
"We have had harder journeys," said Saint-Germain.
"Yes, we have," said Hroger. "But none of them are things to aspire to, are they?"
Saint-Germain gave a single, sad laugh. "No, old friend, they are not." He mused for the greater part of a minute. "Is Niklos expected back shortly?"
"I suppose so," said Hroger. "Captain Fet said he wants only to resolve a few questions about Lajos Rakoczi, though what they might be, I cannot guess." He made a sharp gesture of exasperation. "Why should they have more questions to ask? What more is there to say? The man is gone, and we have no idea where. He has my note and my report, and yours, so what more can he learn from Niklos? And you have assured the Captain that you will call on him shortly."
"It is a bit disturbing that the Guards continue to question him," Saint-Germain said. "How many times can he say that he knows nothing?"
"I hope they will not torture him for answers," said Hroger.
"Fet is more likely to want to torture me than Niklos," said Saint-Germain. "Since I informed ... myself of the problem, I am more suspect in Fet's eyes. If Rakoczi were here, we would probably both be beaten."
"To what purpose? Why should Lajos Rakoczi tell us anything more than what he told everyone else?" Hroger asked.
"Why indeed," Saint-Germain agreed.
"The man was prepared to fight a duel with Niklos," said Hroger. "That makes his posture unfavorable toward Niklos, and you."
"I hope his disappearance does not remain tied to us. The Guards still seem to think we might be connected to his disappearance, although they have only gossip on which to base their suspicions." Saint-Germain gave the clock a quick look, then lifted his head. "If Niklos has not returned within the hour, I will set out for the Guards' station to discover why they continue to hold him for questioning."
"That sounds reasonable." Hroger began to stack those unguents, lotions, tinctures, and salves that would not be necessary on their travels. "Pansy-and-willow-bark: what do you think? Do we leave it or take it?"
"It is helpful against fever and pain. None of the three of us can contract a fever, and our pain cannot be relieved with nostrums, so unless you want some for the horses, we can leave all behind." Saint-Germain looked around the room. "Blankets for us as well as the animals, and it would be wise to seal our boots with goose-grease."
"I'll take care of it," said Hroger. "And I'll arrange for a haunch or two of venison for Niklos and me. The meat has been preserved by being buried in the snow, but he and I will have to eat it quickly, for such meat goes off quite rapidly."
"You two can live on fresh raw meat; sometimes I believe you are more fortunate than I." He pulled his black chamber-robe more tightly around him.
"You need living blood to nourish you; I know." Hroger put down a dozen maps rolled into a long leather tube. "We'll want these, and a compass to keep us aligned."
"So we will." Saint-Germain looked up, and saw Ludmilla standing in the door; immediately he switched from Frankish to Russian. "Ludmilla Borisevna; I am honored to receive you tonight."
"Is it true that you're leaving in the morning?" she asked without prelude.
"I am; Poteshnye Menshikov has ordered it, and while the Czar is away in the Ukraine, strengthening his ties to Mazepa, anticipating another confrontation with Karl and the Swedes, Menshikov has almost unlimited authority here, and we are bound to obey him." Saint-Germain went to her and escorted her into the room. "I regret that I will not be able to continue your lessons."
"Heer van Hoek has said he will try to tutor me as often as he is able," said Ludmilla, a bit distantly; she sat down in Saint-Germain's chair, and patted its upholstered arms. "Will you take this with you?"
"No," said Saint-Germain. "It is yours, if you would like to have it."
She smiled at him. "You are very kind, Hercegek." She turned toward Hroger. "I hope your journey is safe; you will be much-missed here."
"Most gracious of you to say so, Madame Svarinskaya." Hroger continued with his work for a few minutes while Saint-Germain and Ludmilla occupied the time reading through a few pages of one of the books from Eclipse Press that would be left at the care-house; he said, "I have to go fetch the traveling trunk from the Polish house stable. I'll return in half an hour or so." With that he bowed to the two of them and left the room.
"Most accommodating of him," Ludmilla said, her smile quick and broad.
"You shouldn't be surprised that he would do this, since he knows privacy is in short supply here." Saint-Germain bent to kiss her, relishing the mollescence of her lips.
