Circle of Shadows (17 page)

‘Daniel has not been forced to work,’ she said. ‘Here, as everywhere else, status is what counts. He has a room and his own clothes. These men …’ she nodded out of the window, ‘are from peasant stock.’

‘What are their crimes?’ Harriet said, trying to pick out individual faces. None of the men were young, and all had the weather-worn skin of those used to outdoor work. None were fat, but none showed sign of malnourishment.

‘I asked the same thing, Harry. Persistent drunkenness or theft. Some argued with their priests or the headmen in their village.’

The carriage came to a halt and the door was opened by one of the scarlet footmen the court had provided to travel about with their visitors. An oppressive courtesy. A gentleman emerged from the heavy interior of the castle to greet them with a broad smile. He was not the hunched and shuffling jailer of Harriet’s imaginings, but a figure wigged and frock-coated, brushing crumbs from his waistcoat. Rachel made the introductions and he smiled at them very pleasantly and asked after their journey.

‘I am sure that all of Ulrichsberg is in a froth!’ he said, gesturing with his hands so broadly Harriet was afraid he might topple over backwards. ‘A new Duchess! I have had her portrait hung up in my office already, next to that of Ludwig Christoph. She is a pretty girl, but regal, I am sure you understand what I mean –
regal
!’

‘How is my husband, Herr Hoffman?’ asked Rachel.

He shook his head. ‘Pleased to hear of the arrival of his friends, but I wish I could get him to eat a little more. I had my own cook send up some of my stew yesterday evening, so delicious it was. But he hardly touched it.’

He blinked at Harriet and Graves. ‘The wind tells me you are already sowing doubt about Mr Clode’s guilt at court.’

‘You are very well informed, sir,’ Harriet said, surprised.

‘Fresh supplies and fresh gossip arrived only an hour or two ago, milady. You have an early meeting with the Duke, and Mr Clode’s friends leave it looking hopeful. The Countess Dieth has a conversation with the Duke, and her reactions are observed. A scribe is asked to make a copy of a letter. The tone shifts and without quite knowing why, we start to think Mr Clode is innocent. And I wanted to say, I am absolutely delighted about that. Such a pleasant, well-educated young man, a little serious perhaps, but it has been a pleasure to guard him. If you whip him away I shall have to hope the Duke finds some scribbler of seditious pamphlets to lock up here for a few months, or I shall be deprived of civilised company. No doubt some young man will publish something insulting for the wedding. I trust in that.’

Graves opened and shut his mouth a few times before managing, ‘It is kind of you to say you wish him freed, sir, if you would feel his loss so.’

Herr Hoffman waved his handkerchief. ‘Not at all, milord Graves. I would lose him anyway to the axe-man, given the charge, and would much rather see him go free! Do not worry about me a jot.’

To that Graves had no reply at all, so merely bowed.

‘Kleinman!’ A rather stooped-looking creature appeared suddenly at his elbow in the doorway. ‘Kleinman will take you up. Such a delight to make your acquaintance. I hope I shall see you at one or other of the fêtes and celebrations in town. Perhaps I shall be delivering dear Mr Clode back to you!’

‘You are able to leave your place here then, sir?’ Harriet asked.

‘Oh yes, from time to time. Some of these fellows have been here fifteen years. If I unlocked the doors and gave them the key, they’d probably lock themselves up again at once. Really, where could they go?’

In spite of what Rachel had told her, Harriet had not been prepared to see Daniel so drawn. There was a gauntness to his features, and though he met them warmly, Rachel was right, he was still distant, still to some degree lost in that night.

‘Harriet! Owen! How strange to see you here. What do you think of my first establishment as a married man?’

The room in which he was held was plain, but not uncomfortable. He had a little pile of books on his desk and a narrow view of the forest. The walls were the unplastered reddish stone of the castle, the only decoration a simple wooden cross above his narrow cot. Harriet preferred it to her own accommodation in court.

‘I rather like it,’ she said with a brisk smile and took a seat on one of the wooden stools provided. She removed her gloves and handed him a letter. ‘From your parents, Daniel.’ His expression as he saw the handwriting on the envelope was both tender and pained.

‘How are they?’ he asked. ‘I feared for my mother’s health – that the news might make her ill.’

His deep blue eyes looked too large for his face. Harriet felt an overwhelming urge to bundle the young couple into the carriage at once and not let them out of her sight till they were pink with health again. ‘She is frightened for you, Daniel, of course, but I suspect she is stronger than you think. Verity intended to call on them again with her parents when they arrived from London. She will give them every attention and I think they will like each other.’

‘Yes, I think they will. However gracious you are to them, Harriet, my father still feels like a footman in front of you.’ He ran his hand through his hair and Harriet noticed for the first time grey hairs among the black. ‘He and Mr Chase will understand each other. It is good of Verity to look to them. You have married well, Graves.’

Graves was looking uncertain, something shocked by his friend’s looks and tone. His voice was serious as he replied, ‘I know it, Daniel. And better than I deserve, much like yourself.’

Clode dropped his gaze. ‘Of course, I did not mean,’ he put his hand out to Rachel, ‘you know I did not mean to imply …’

Rachel smiled and shook her head. ‘Of course not, Daniel.’

An odd, clinging sort of silence fell over them. Harriet looked out at the forest through the open shutter. It filled the frame with spring green. So vast it seemed, waves hiding the landscape. It reminded her of the sea when they were out of sight of land, how it seemed to flow to the edges of vision.

‘You have come to tell me about your reception in court,’ Daniel said. His voice was slightly hoarse, as if he had become unpractised at speech. ‘Do you think they mean to execute me? Or lock me in a madhouse?’

‘They will do neither,’ Graves said. ‘You will be returning to England with us, your name cleared and their profound apologies ringing in your ears. What is the matter with you, man? We have travelled for weeks and you greet us as if we’d just arrived rather inconveniently while you were writing epic verse or somesuch.’

Clode almost smiled. Almost. ‘I thank you for coming, and I know you will do everything in your power to release me. But how can anyone, even Harriet and Mr Crowther, find out the truth of that night? It must haunt me always.’ He folded his arms across his body as if cold. ‘I thank you, for Rachel’s sake, but you can do nothing for me, I think.’

‘All that Crowther and Mrs Westerman have done, and you show such little faith? In two months you’ll be home and dancing with my wards till you are sick with laughing.’

Clode turned sharply on his friend. ‘Laugh?’ Harriet noticed that as he lifted his hand to his temple, the fingers were shaking a little. ‘You don’t understand, Owen. I was parted from my reason, the horrors of that night …’

‘No, I do
not
understand, and from what I saw of that little girl, I can only imagine. But it was a dream, Daniel. A nightmare, and you must learn to see it in that light, rather than brood.’

‘What little girl?’

‘One who thought I was King of the Fairies. There, that almost made you smile! Your mask was drugged, my friend. We have just seen a demonstration this morning. A child wore it for a short time – and she saw all manner of things.’

‘So it was drugged?’

‘Yes.’

‘But that does not prove I am innocent of doing Lady Martesen harm.’

Graves was quite red in the face. Harriet felt a wave of affection for him. ‘From what I read, you were hardly capable of standing. Could you, in that state, pour water down a woman’s throat till she drowned?’

‘Drowned?’ Clode lowered himself onto one of the rough stools in the room and stared at Graves, his mouth slightly open.

‘Yes, drowned. You were drugged with your nasty mask – I can’t believe you were fool enough to wear such a thing – and she drowned on dry land. Hoffman will be delivering you back to court within the day, I guarantee it. And you will look every silk-smothered devil there in the face like a free-born Englishman! So there is a little parcel of facts for you and we have others to hand too if you will stop staring out of the window like a hero in a novel and act like a man. Do you have food here? Rachel says she always brings you delicacies and finds them untouched.’ He picked up a stool and placed it opposite Daniel, blocking his view of the forest. ‘And by the way, Manzerotti is in court.’

Daniel turned to stare at Harriet. ‘Good God, Harriet! Is he …? Have you …?’

Harriet tilted her head to one side. ‘I was going to stab him with one of Mr Al-Said’s files, but he provided a pistol so I almost shot him instead. I hate to say it, but I think having the opportunity to do so, and not killing him, has done me a great deal of good.’

Rachel smothered a shocked laugh. Clode was speechless. Graves ploughed on.

‘Now we have a mission, Daniel. We must think through every moment of your time in court before the Carnival and see who might have had a reason to try and murder you alongside Lady Martesen.’

Daniel was looking confused and distressed, and Rachel put out her hand. ‘Graves, please! Daniel has been very ill.’

Graves reached across the table and grabbed one of Clode’s wrists, jerking it towards him. His coatsleeve rode up and the scar, thin and livid across his wrist, was exposed. Graves turned his hand back and forth. ‘Seems to be healing well enough. A year and you won’t even have to wear long cuffs. Rachel, you have been too sympathetic. What Clode here needs is good food and a swift reminder of his duties.’

‘You think they aimed to kill
me
?’ Clode said slowly, looking up at his friend.

‘Don’t be a fool. Lord, I’ve entrusted my ward’s fortune to a babe-in-arms.
Think
, Daniel – if Colonel Padfield had not broken down the door, you would have died on the floor in your own blood. It was the merest chance saved you. Someone meant you,’ he released his grip to point at Clode fiercely, ‘
you
– to die there. Now who?’

Clode looked across at Harriet. ‘Is this your opinion too, Harriet?’

‘Yes. In all particulars,’ she said very calmly, ‘and Crowther’s too.’

Clode shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself again. ‘Very well.’ Then he lifted his head and looked at Harriet. ‘You and Mr Crowther are come like angels to deliver me, Harriet.’ The corner of his mouth twitched, and she saw something of his former self trying to return. She only smiled in reply, trying somehow in that smile to show both her faith and her sympathy.

‘Do you have pen and paper?’ Graves asked, looking about him. ‘I shall act as your scribe.’

‘No, Graves. Dear God, only years of close study have taught me to read your hand.’ Clode sighed deeply and shook himself. ‘Let Rachel write while you play drill master with my memory. But Manzerotti?’

Graves crossed his arms and tossed his hair back from his forehead. ‘Our concerns are with what happened
before
that devil arrived. Perhaps we will have a chance to shoot him later. Very well, let us begin. What are you looking at me like that for?’

‘I think I am glad you are come, Owen.’

Graves looked a little shy. ‘I promised your mother that I’d look after you. And Susan. If you come back all wan-looking and destroyed, it will only make her passion for you stronger, you know. I want you fat and balding before my ward is out on the marriage market, otherwise all men shall be compared to you and be found wanting.’

‘And we wouldn’t want that, would we?’ Daniel said.

‘No, we damn well wouldn’t.’

The cell became a hive of activity. Harriet asked the guard at the door to send them up something to eat, then turned to see the younger people preparing to set to work. It was a moment where she felt the difference between them. They seemed eager, revived. She knew there was something desperate in their sudden energy, but thought it better they exhaust themselves. It would do them all good. They were preparing a sheet for each day that Rachel and Clode had been at court, then some fierce discussion ensued if it would be better to instead have a sheet for each personage encountered. Harriet felt weary, and wished for Crowther.

P
EGEL WATCHED THE HOUSE
of Dunktal all afternoon. He thought of Florian coming to find him, then leaving disappointed, and felt a slight shiver of regret. However, his job was to follow the trail and this was where it had led him. A house that suggested prosperity, but not great wealth. There was a man in a green coat working at the window upstairs. It took an hour before Pegel recognised him as one of the men he had seen leaving the back room of the bar in Leuchtenstadt where he had first set eyes on Florian. He had left some hours before the others, so Pegel had not thought him important. It seemed he had been wrong.

He had expected some activity, some stirring within – but nothing came. The news of the attack on Florian did not seem sufficient to scare Dunktal into the streets. Jacob consulted his notebook again. The message had reached Dunktal, Dunktal had sent messages back, but none forward. Pegel wanted very much to get into that upper room where the man was working so assiduously, but he might be there for hours, days even. He needed to alarm one of the lieutenants enough that Dunktal would need to provide reassurance in person. He looked at the list of people who had sent to Dunktal. Three. Two men and a woman, the wife of the Head of the Law Faculty. She lived on Charlottenstrasse. Now these friends of Florian obviously liked to think of themselves as the noblest of men. If a woman were threatened, surely Dunktal would not only send a polite coded note. He would go there himself – ideally in such a hurry he would forget to lock his door. But what manner of threat should it be? Nothing like the attack on Florian, of course, but it had to look as if it came from the same source. One of the odd little books of alchemy and allegory the Rosicrucians claimed as their manifesto would do nicely. Sent with no note. He tapped his pencil on his teeth and hid away his notebook, then sauntered up the road until he found a bookseller who had what he required, a cheap printing of
The Chemical Wedding
. He had it wrapped and then found a boy at play among the gutters and handed it to him. ‘Fourpence to deliver it,’ he said. The boy looked suspicious. ‘And if they try and get you to say who sent it, tell them a man in a brown coat with a yellow wig. I’ll be by and listening. Do as I tell you and there’s another fourpence. Deal?’