Castle of Shadows (20 page)

‘Mrs O’Dair,’ said her father through chattering teeth, ‘has gone mad. Did you know that, Charlotte?’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘She seems to think I want to marry her.’

‘I know.’

‘But I’m married to your mother. And even if I weren’t…’

‘Don’t worry about it, Father. Now let go of my hand. I’m going to get you out of there.’

‘Have you got the key? How clever!’

‘Nearly,’ she said, and squatted in front of the cell door.

‘Charlotte? What on earth are you doing?’

‘Picking the lock.’

‘Oh. But… How did you learn to do that?’

‘A friend showed me.’

‘I’m not sure…I don’t like to complain, Charlotte, considering the circumstances, but I don’t think you have any business learning to pick locks. It doesn’t seem…suitable, somehow.’

‘Yes, Father.’

The lock groaned open with a rusty wheeze. The door hinges screamed. Charlie pulled her father from the cell, picked up the lantern and began to run back towards the lift. ‘Come on, Father! Run! We have to get out of the Castle before O’Dair or Windlass find us.’

‘Alistair? What has he to do with any of this?’

‘
Oh, Father!
’

‘I can’t leave, Charlotte. I am the King.’ Her father trotted ahead of her, his slippers pattering on the marble floor of the state rooms. He was heading for his chamber. He ran with an easy grace, and she struggled to keep up.

She had pleaded with him, shouted at him, tried to haul him away physically, but when her father had insisted on returning to his chamber, she had abandoned the lantern and its telltale light and followed him.

‘Windlass has spent the past hour writing your suicide note, Father!’ Her whisper was harsh in the darkness. ‘Why can’t you listen to me? He plans to kill you!’ She caught him at last, clung to his arm. Her father slid to a stop and frowned down at her.

‘You must have misunderstood. Alistair is a man of honour. I trust him implicitly. However, I have let him carry the burden of state alone for too long. I have been remiss. I have duties…’ His voice trailed away, and he removed her hand from his arm, patted it. ‘I miss your mother.’ He sighed. ‘But that is no excuse.’ He began to run again. Charlie chased him across puddles of moonlight.

‘O’Dair has been drugging you, Father. On Windlass’s orders!’

He seemed not to hear her. ‘One thing I must do, Charlotte. After that, if it pleases you, we will discuss all your worries. I promise to listen to you. But first…’ They had reached the antechamber door. The King opened it, strode through, flung open the door to his chamber. He stood in the acid-pale light streaming through the windows, gazing up at his castle of cards.

He sighed deeply. ‘I have failed. I have failed the Kingdom, and you, and myself. And if your mother is still alive, I have failed her. This castle is a symbol of that failure. I am going to destroy it, and then, I hope, I will be able to start afresh.’ He switched on the gas, took a packet of safety matches from his pocket and began lighting the wall lights. The moonlight retreated before the blue-white glow of the gas. When he had finished, he returned to stand in front of her. His face was calm but inexpressibly sad. ‘Do you forgive me, Charlotte?’

Her eyes welled with tears of love and frustration and fear. Her father reached out gentle fingers and wiped the moisture from her cheek. Then, for the first time in five years, he gathered her in his arms and held her tight. Her face was pressed against his shoulder, and she did not see the intruder. But she heard the creak of whalebone and the swish of bombazine across a dusty floor.

‘Revolting!’ Mrs O’Dair stood behind them. Her skirts swirled to a stop, and Charlie heard the whisper of a thousand playing cards shivering. The housekeeper’s face was the colour of stewed plums. ‘Ancel has escaped,’
she snarled. ‘But at least I have you, brat! You sent me on a fool’s errand! Well, you won’t have the opportunity to trick me again. Stand away from her, Your Majesty.’ Her right arm swept up. It held Watch’s pistol.

‘You’re m-mad, woman!’ the King stuttered with outrage. His arms tightened around Charlie. ‘You are dismissed from your post,’ he gasped. ‘You will leave the Castle at once! And stop pointing that weapon at my daughter!’ He pushed Charlie behind him, walking them backwards, circling the castle of cards. ‘Get onto the scaffolding, Charlotte! Climb as high as you can. Keep the castle between the two of you. I shall disarm her.’

‘No! I––’

‘Do as I say!’ he roared. Charlie turned and ran.

‘
Out of my way, you stupid man!
’

Something flew past Charlie’s ear, and she heard the unmistakeable whine of a bullet, chased by the crack of a retort. She flung herself forward and scrambled up the nearest scaffolding ladder. She paused on the first platform, crouching down, her eyes searching for her father. And saw a huddle of blue dressing gown heaped against a wall, a tangle of auburn hair. Her heart stopped. The huddle stirred, and her father lifted his head. She heard herself cry out in relief. It was a mistake.

O’Dair was standing near the portcullis, pistol in hand, scanning the scaffolding. Now her head swivelled, and her eyes fastened onto Charlie like black leeches. The malevolence in them struck Charlie like a blow, and she
clutched the scaffolding to keep from falling. O’Dair smiled – her lips parted in anticipation.

She lifted her arm, took careful aim.

‘Put it down, Mrs O’Dair!’ Alistair Windlass stepped through the doorway. His face was flushed, and he was panting as though he had been running, but his voice was cold and precise. ‘I don’t want to have to kill you,’ he said, ‘but if you fire again you may be sure I will.’ His right arm was fully extended, the pistol in his hand pointing at the housekeeper. His eyes were colder than his voice. Colder than Charlie had ever seen them. She could feel his fury from across the room. She shivered.

Charlie watched the triumph in O’Dair’s face twist into a snarl of rage and fear. Watched her spin around in a whirl of black. The housekeeper’s skirts flared out and whipped the dust, roused the air. She stood in the eye of a whirlwind. As Mrs O’Dair took aim, a gust struck the card castle, and the portcullis trembled. It shifted, shuddered and fell with a dry clattering, like the rain of a thousand tiny bones. Charlie saw O’Dair flinch, and Watch’s pistol spat a bullet into the plaster over Windlass’s head. The housekeeper bellowed in fury and lifted her arm again. The Prime Minister did not move, but Charlie heard a second explosion. She felt a distant awe, a faint surge of surprise, as Mrs O’Dair staggered, then collapsed onto the floor with groan of whalebone and a dusty sigh of bombazine.

In the silence that followed, Charlie stared at the body
of the housekeeper. It lay with an unnatural stillness that made the breath catch in her throat. She looked up and met Windlass’s eyes. In two seconds she was down the scaffolding and darting across the room. But he was there before her. She stumbled to a halt in front of him, watching with all the intensity of a trapped animal as he slid Watch’s pistol into his pocket. She turned her head, seeking her father.

He was standing now, leaning against the wall, looking down at O’Dair. She lay on the remains of the portcullis, stretched on her back in a tumble of playing cards. Her face was peaceful, her eyes open. There was a small hole in the centre of her chest, and the surrounding bombazine was a darker black than usual. Blood puddled around her, seeping into the cards and staining them scarlet.

The King lifted his gaze. The Prime Minister looked at her father, and Charlie saw Windlass’s mouth tighten as though he were in pain. ‘I’m sorry, Your Majesty,’ he said and raised his arm. The pistol pointed at the King’s head. Charlie froze. Fear unlike any she had ever known flooded through her.

Her father’s sea-green eyes widened and a look of deep sadness darkened them. ‘So Charlotte was right. Treason and regicide. Why, Alistair?’

The hand holding the pistol never wavered. A lock of Windlass’s hair had fallen across his forehead, but otherwise he was as elegant as ever. His black frock coat was unbuttoned, showing a silver-figured waistcoat. His
tiepin gleamed in the gaslight. His mouth tightened further, and he shook his head. But his eyes glinted cold as the winter moon. ‘It is necessary. Truly, I wish it were otherwise.’

‘I have failed,’ said the King, ‘so many people.’ He glanced at her, and she saw that his eyes held the distant look they had so often contained when he was busy designing a new tower. He was far away – somewhere she could not follow. He turned his head to gaze up at his card castle. ‘You’ll not harm Charlotte?’

‘I give you my word. As long as you do as I tell you. If you do not…’

The King nodded. ‘And?’

‘Climb,’ said Windlass. ‘Take that with you.’ He pointed to a coil of rope lying beside the door. The King walked to it, picked it up, and Charlie saw that one end had been knotted to form a noose.

‘
No!
’ she screamed and lunged at Windlass, hitting and kicking.

He gathered her to him with one arm, binding her arms to her chest so fiercely she could barely breathe.

‘I’ll kill you!’ she panted. ‘If it takes the rest of my life!’

‘Quite possibly.’ He was watching her father. The King strode to the nearest scaffolding tower and sprang up it. Tears burned in her eyes as she saw her father, graceful even in pyjamas, swing himself to the very top of his card castle, the rope strung about his chest like a royal sash.

‘Don’t, Father!’ she screamed. ‘Fight him! Don’t give in!’

The King did not look at her. Did not hesitate. He stretched up his arms and tied the end of the rope to the highest scaffold pole. Then, without the slightest pause, he loosened the noose and slipped it over his head.

Darkness swarmed over her eyes, and when she looked again she saw nothing but the glimmer of dust motes dancing in the gaslight. She was lying on the floor. She felt sick and weak. Her vision cleared, and she saw Tobias staring down at her in horror. Mr Moleglass’s face swam into sight beside him. His eyes were huge with shock. As she looked at him, his face sagged with relief, and he staggered. Tobias put out a hand, steadied him.

A movement caught her eye. Nell stood behind Mr Moleglass. Charlie recognised other Resistance members behind her. They were crowded in the doorway but did not seem to be trying to push further into the room. Many of them carried muskets or rifles. Charlie struggled to her knees. She shook her head to clear the last of the giddiness from it and looked for her father.

Instead, she saw the Prime Minister. He stood near O’Dair’s body, his face grim, his mouth pressed thin. His eyes glittered as he watched the intruders in the doorway. His arm was raised; the pistol in his hand pointing unwaveringly towards the top of the card castle. Charlie looked and saw her father. He had not moved. He was
staring at Windlass as though the Prime Minister was a puzzle he was trying to solve. The noose was still around his neck.

‘Stand back, Moleglass.’ Windlass’s voice was as cool and controlled as ever. ‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘Out of the chamber. Out of the antechamber and into the corridor. And keep the others out. All but Tobias. He stays. Do it, Moleglass, or I shoot the King!’

The crowd behind Nell began to shout. Angry voices crowded into the room.

‘Nell!’ Mr Moleglass straightened. He turned from a small, frightened man into a butler. ‘Take these people out now! You put the King’s life at risk with every second you stay here!’

‘Please, Nell!’ Charlie cried.

Nell’s eyes met hers, softened. She nodded. ‘Very well, Mr Moleglass. Until the King is safe. And Charlie. Then he’s ours.’ She turned to look at Windlass, and Charlie saw a Nell she did not recognise – a Nell as ruthless as Peter, as the Prime Minister himself. There was a confusion of pushing and shouting, then Nell vanished into the antechamber, taking the Resistance and their bristling weapons with her.

Mr Moleglass cast a last agonised look at Charlie, at the King, at the body of Mrs O’Dair heaped upon the floor. Then he, too, backed out of the chamber.

Tobias threw his father a look of contempt, walked to Charlie and took her hand. He squeezed it and tried to
smile. His eyes were bright with anger, his jaw clenched. He pulled her to her feet. ‘You all right, Charlie?’

She nodded and turned to face Alistair Windlass. The Prime Minister was watching them, his mouth twisted in a faint smile.

‘Well, Charlie,’ he said. ‘It appears you get your wish. Your father may live, but in exchange I must once more request the pleasure of your company. If you agree to become my hostage while I escape the country, I will not shoot him. If you refuse, I will. And my aim is deadly, Charlie. Trust me.’

Her eyes climbed the castle of cards. Up and up they flew, twenty feet into the air, past rampart, crenellation and tower. Her father was looking at her now. He gazed into her eyes and smiled. ‘Charlotte,’ he said. ‘My little Charlie. I forbid you to do as Alistair requests. Do as I tell you, and leave this room.’

Charlie shook her head. It felt like her heart was breaking. Her father was himself again, and she was about to cause him pain. ‘I can’t do that, Father. You know I can’t.’

The King frowned. ‘Charlotte! Don’t disobey me. I know you’ve had little enough cause to do so these past five years, but please trust me. I know what is best for you. You are my dearest treasure, and I cannot give you into the power of a man like Alistair Windlass. Leave this room!’

Tears blurred her eyes. ‘I can’t.’

‘Moleglass!’ roared the King. ‘Come back! Get Charlotte out of here! You, boy! Take my daughter out!’

‘If you do, Tobias, I shoot the King.’ Windlass’s voice was calmly precise. ‘Make no mistake. I will do it.’

‘You’ll do it, all right!’ Tobias shouted. His hand still gripped hers, and Charlie felt him trembling. ‘There’s nothing you’ll not sink to. Anything low and rotten as long as it’s in the cause of Alistair Windlass. I wish Petch had been my father. At least he was an honest villain. If you need a hostage, take me, damn you! Leave Charlie with her dad. You owe her that much.’

Windlass’s mouth thinned. He smiled. ‘Sorry, Tobias. You’re worth very little as a hostage, I’m afraid. Any soldier out to collect bounty would merrily shoot us both dead. It must be the Princess. Come here, Charlie.’

‘Charlotte!’

She let go of Tobias’s hand and smiled up at her father to show him she wasn’t afraid. Her eyes were as cold as Windlass’s own as she walked towards him. But she looked away as she stepped past the mound that had been Mrs O’Dair.

‘Well done, Charlie,’ said Windlass when she stood in front of him. She stared into his eyes and saw him blink. This close, she could hear the quickness of his breathing, see the pulse beating fast in his temple. So the icy calm was mere pretence. She tasted bitter satisfaction, lifted her chin in defiance.

He looked back at her, and a gentle, self-mocking smile
flickered across his face and disappeared. The momentary warmth faded from his eyes. ‘Turn around, Charlie.’ She turned and flinched as the cold mouth of the pistol pressed against the back of her neck. ‘Tobias,’ he said. ‘Go and get my carriage ready. You have ten minutes. Be prompt.’

Tobias looked sick. He glared hatred at his father, turned and ran from the room.