“It is heartening to see that in all this chaos your imagination is unimpaired. This object—which you do not need to hear the particulars about, for I would like to keep you alive for awhile—not only kept him from destroying it, but it killed him. Such is its power. What it has to do with The Lesser Key, you don’t need to know for your own protection.”
“Protection from what? A devilish bookworm?”
“No,” Fell said. “Protection from me. Julian, I’m putting you in charge of cleaning up, since Fenna is no longer with us. After the prisoners are bound, send as many men as you can spare to go through every house room by room. We don’t want any of their wounded hiding here.” The professor’s eyes had become more focused, and his mouth a cruel slash. “As for the prisoners, find a strong sawblade or two. Build a fire in the center of the square. I’ll be along in a little while.”
“What about him?” Devane jerked a thumb toward Matthew.
“What about you, Matthew? Why did you come here, knowing that Miriam was planning to kill me? Were you intending to stop her?”
“That’s right.”
“And why should that be? I would’ve thought Albion might have fought you for the pleasure of killing me. Where is that gentleman? Hiding under his bed?”
“He was killed in the hospital by Cardinal Black’s men,” Matthew answered. “What you don’t know is that your White Velvet caused the death of his wife in a freak accident, and for that and your other ventures he saw you as a blight on society.”
“I’ve been called that,” said Devane, with a measure of twisted pride. “It’s an exclusive club. The membership dues are more than most men want to pay.”
“Indeed.” Fell flashed a quick and insincere smile. “My heart bleeds for Judge Archer. I’ll say a kind word over him when we throw his body to the sharks. Now…your reason for wishing to save my life? Listen to this, Julian, it should be interesting.”
Matthew said, “You told me Hudson would recover on his own within a few days, if you ceased giving him the drug. He’s a strong man both physically and mentally, he’ll come out it. But Berry…” He had to stop for a moment, as the memory of her all powdered and painted and made to think of herself as Nash’s daughter welled up in him. “But…as you say, Berry’s on a path to mental infancy unless she gets the antidote. With Ribbenhoff dead and the book of potions stolen, who but you has the ability to make that antidote and give it to her in the proper amount?”
“Oh,” said the professor, with a slight nod. “I see.”
“I expect you to give it to her and bring her back, presuming she’s not been killed in this onslaught. I still offer the proposition…you put Berry and Hudson safely on a ship bound for New York and I’ll find Brazio Valeriani. That’s a promise.”
Fell seemed to be considering it. Then, very suddenly, he laughed.
Matthew didn’t care for the sound. “What’s humorous?”
“You,” Fell answered. “What makes you think I know the formula for the antidote?”
Matthew had the feeling that the floor had given way beneath his feet.
“That was Ribbenhoff’s formula, a variation on something Gentry had created. I’m sure he added it to the book, as he liked to keep everything in order…but with him dead and the book gone…the only one who can possibly bring your Berry back to you is this Cardinal Black, and I’m fairly sure he doesn’t have access to the proper botanicals.”
Matthew had lost his power of speech.
“I admire him, in a way,” Fell went on. “A courageous bastard, breaking in here as he did. But that doesn’t mean I won’t savor cutting him into small pieces. I want to know how he got hold of Miriam’s mind and how he took possession of a mortar vessel. That smells to me like someone in the Admiralty is involved.”
“To hell with that!” Matthew exploded. “You’ve got to have a supply of that antidote somewhere! I know you do!”
“No, we do not. We have a supply of what is used to keep the general public pacified, and what we spice the Velvet with, but not the more esoteric formulas. As I told you, I never intended to give the girl an antidote.”
Matthew got up from his chair. Instantly Devane stepped forward and picked up the sword Matthew had dropped. Matthew was shaking with anger and the realization that without the antidote, the woman he’d decided to share the rest of his life with was doomed.
“Damn you,” Matthew seethed. “Damn you to hell and back a hundred times.”
“Quite so,” said the professor. He cast an uneasy gaze upon the dead woman again, as if still expecting her to rise and strike. “Julian, go about your business,” he said. “Our valiant Matthew has been reduced to a blubbering shell.”
“You don’t wish me to take him out?”
“No, let him go where he chooses. Just bind the prisoners, get that search done and prepare the sawblades and the fire. But I shall keep the sword and dagger, thank you.”
Devane handed it over. He worked the dagger from the pink-gloved hand, gave it to Fell, and then he cautiously stepped over the body and passed Matthew on his way out.
“Wait,” Matthew said. The power of his voice stopped Devane short.
“You have something further to add?” Fell asked. He prodded Mother Deare’s body with the toe of his boot, just in case.
What Matthew had come up with in the last few seconds had been born of desperation. “Let me go. I’ll get the book back.”
“Oh, of course you will! The problem-solver on the hunt! Of course!”
“Hear me,” said Matthew, and again the force of his voice was a strong commandment. “You and I have equal desires to get it back, but either you’re in shock or you’re pretending that all those formulas at a madman’s whim would not wreck what remains of your so-called empire. He’ll likely already have a chemist at the ready. He might not have all the necessary botanicals but I’d say he could get them in time…if he’s allowed to. Now tell me truthfully: how long does Berry have? I mean to say…what’s the point of no return for her?”
Fell’s face had become grim. He said, “Ribbenhoff told me that beyond thirty to forty days the antidote would be useless.”
“How long has it been so far?”
“Six days. A dose was started on her the night they were brought in.”
“I am begging you,” said Matthew, “to let me try.”
“We no longer have a chemist here.”
“I’ll find the book and a chemist. If not, I’ll die trying.”
“A sensible statement. One that may well be etched upon your gravestone.”
“You don’t have enough men to guard this place and send a group out searching,” Matthew said. “You have me. I heard Black tell Mother Deare to meet him at ‘the tower’. Do you have any idea where that might be?”
“None. We are some twenty miles down the coast from Swansea. The nearest village would be Adderlane, six or seven miles to the northwest, also on the coast.”
“All right. That’s a place to start.” Matthew still read indecision on the professor’s face. “I have to go as soon as possible. I expect I can use one of the horses, if they haven’t burned down the stable.” He had another inducement to offer, as odious as it seemed. “I don’t have time to wait for Hudson to recover. Send someone with me. One man is all I need.”
“You think highly of yourself.”
“Yes, I do. And so does he.” Matthew lifted his chin toward the third man in the room.
Devane frowned. “Me? Are you mad?”
“Here’s a chance to make amends for past errors,” Matthew told him, and the message between them was clear.
“Meaning what?” Fell asked.
“I believe he means,” said Devane, recovering silkily, “that he blames me for the loss of two teeth and a dirty guttersnipe who he considered his ‘brother’ by that mark on his hand. Is that what you mean, Corbett?”
“Exactly so.”
Fell backed away from Mother Deare’s body and stepped ar
ound it. He approached Matthew and Devane and looked from one to the other, his eyes holding a spark of renewed interest. He said to Matthew, “You would go with Julian out to find the book?”
“Yes.”
“Julian? What say you?”
Devane answered, “As always, I am ready to serve.”
“Hm.” Fell stepped closer to Matthew and stood only a few inches away. “You’re correct in that time is of the essence. I don’t know the meaning of ‘the tower’ but perhaps one of our new guests does. We may get some valuable information in the next few hours, so let’s don’t put you on the road until we hear what’s to be said. In the meantime, Julian, go on and do what I’ve asked.”
Devane nodded. He cast a brief glance at Matthew that had a flash of sneer in it, and then he departed.
“I want to get out of this room.” The professor was staring down at the remnant of the crisped brown wig on the floor. “Come downstairs with me. I have a bottle of whiskey I’ll share.”
“I need to find Berry,” Matthew said. “I want to make sure she’s still alive before I go out hunting the book.”
“I imagine Nash got them to his house. It’s up where Conger Street begins, on the left. He has one with a cellar, and doors that can be locked.”
“Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t miss the festivities in the square,” Fell said, “but I’d advise you to try to get some sleep. I can give you something for that, if you’d like.”
“I’d rather not get in the habit.”
“Of what? Sleeping?” Fell gave him a chilly smile. “You should rest while you can.”
“I’ll be all right.”
“Likely so. I’ll tell you this, Matthew: if you bring the book back to me, I will agree to your proposition and I will agree to your terms. By all means go find the girl and make certain she’s well.” He made not the slightest sign of recognizing the irony in this statement. “If you bring the book to me—and a chemist who can understand the formulas—the first order of business will be creating and administering the antidote. When the girl has recovered, I’ll send her and Greathouse safely back to New York. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“And the second part,” Fell went on, “is that I would then hold you to going to Italy with a team of my men to find Brazio Valeriani. Is that also agreed?”
“It is.”
“Then,” said the professor, “I believe we are in partnership.”
“Don’t ask me to shake your hand on it,” Matthew said, and with a last look at the dead Mother Deare lying on Fell’s floor he turned around, got past the other corpse outside the doorway, and left the house to go find Nash’s counterfeit daughter.
Forty-Three
DAWN was a red slash to the east when the two men who’d talked were tied to the mouths of cannons, the barrels elevated over the parapet, and ten-pound cannonballs blasted through the men’s bodies out to sea.
The other three deaths had not been so clean, because the execution by cannon was Professor Fell’s brand of mercy.
After leaving the professor Matthew had banged on the locked door of Nash’s house and been admitted by the bandaged and bloodied man who by candlelight was getting drunk on a bottle of rum in the front room. He’d found Berry asleep and unharmed in a bed beside the sleeping Mrs. Nash. Matthew had caught the man up by the collar and told him that if either he or his wife forgot that Berry Grigsby was under both his and Fell’s protection he would kill them without hesitation. As he left the house, he realized that not only was he in partnership with the professor but he was taking on some of the ruthlessness required, because he had meant the threat.
He’d contemplated getting some sleep of his own, but it really would’ve taken drugs to get him calmed down enough to rest. Anyway, he had such a headache from his fight with Mother Deare that it would be impossible. He would rest when he collapsed and not before.
The festivity in the square was a merry scene, if one enjoyed seeing the limbs of screaming men being sawed off.
By the crimson light of a fire at the center of the square, Matthew had stood to one side and watched the five men be stripped and tied to chairs. A small number of people had gathered. The two fiddle-players, the accordionist and the tambourine girl had been brought out to add the bizarre touch of lively tunes to the proceedings. Austere and solemn in his black suit, Professor Fell had stood speaking to one of his men who held a handsaw. Another man had thought to bring an axe. A brazier and bellows had been set up and an iron put into the coals.
Fell asked no questions of any of the men. He simply gave a command and the arms and legs were sawed off one of the horsemen and one of the turncoat guards, the wounds cauterized with the iron after each limb was severed. In time with the music, the man with the axe chopped the arms and legs into pieces and they were shovelled into a leather bag. Fell announced to his new guests that the pieces would be thrown over the cliffs to attract the sharks, and then the torsos of those unfortunate men with the blood-drained faces and the eyes rolling in their sockets would be tossed over to join the feast. Those who refused to talk would become part of the meal, but if any man offered to at least partially blot this stain on his character he would be given a merciful death.
“Now,” Fell said, his arms crossed over his chest, “does anyone have anything at all to say?”
The first man who spoke up babbled that he had been a prisoner in the gaolhouse in Cardiff and had been freed with six others in a raid there two weeks ago, he knew nothing but the name of Cardinal Black and all he was doing, sir—kind sir—was taking orders in exchange for food and drink.
“Prepare that man,” Fell had said, and the sawblade had instantly gone to work. “I want some real information,” he told the remaining two, over the screams and the music. “Give me something of value or follow the others.”
It was amazing, what a saw, a cauterizing iron and the image of a torso being torn into by sharks’ teeth could do.
As the sun came up, Matthew stood in Berry’s cottage. He had no idea how long she would sleep in the bed at Nash’s house. He couldn’t bear to see her again in there, and it was pointless. He knew what he had to do and that at the very most he had thirty-four days to get it done.
But he lingered in Berry’s house awhile. He sat in a chair and watched the sun’s rays strengthen, as she might. He had a little time, as the professor had directed that a pair of horses be saddled and supplies be put into the saddlebags, and it would take about twenty minutes for everything to be readied.
One of the horsemen had revealed that Cardinal Black and his men—eighteen in number, subtracting their own casualties—had taken over the village of Adderlane. The harbor wasn’t deep enough for the mortar vessel to be kept at wharf, so it was anchored in the bay. There were lookouts all around the town, and they would be expecting retaliation but they were soon to be moving out by coach, horse and ship. When they were moving and where to, the man didn’t know. He had also been among the number of prisoners freed from the Cardiff gaol, and admitted that he’d been imprisoned there for the murder of a watchman during a robbery. He said that one gave allegiance to Cardinal Black by having a vein opened in the arm and blood dripped into a sacred jar during a ceremony, you got a burn on the underside of that arm in the shape of an inverted Cross—which had already been shown to all eyes in the man’s condition of stark nudity—you repeated some gibberish and thus you belonged not only to him but to the will of the Devil. If you failed to do that, you were gutted on the spot. The man claimed he had no use for things Satanic, but it was said that Cardinal Black had discussions with his own Master in the darkest hours of the night, and it was best to go along to stay alive.
About Cardinal Black’s origin and history he had no clue. Why this raid on the fortress village had taken place, the man was not told, but he understood from some of the others that there was something here that Black had spent much money, time and effort to get hold of.
The tower h
e thought Black had mentioned was a crumbling structure about a half-mile in the forest on this side of Adderlane, a medieval watchtower that was the last thing remaining of what must’ve been a sprawling castle. The man said he’d never been there, but he’d heard that the ‘tower’ was where Black went to commune with his Master. The Devil’s church, as it were.
The other man, one of the turncoats, said that Martin had approached him over a period of more than a month, had worked into his confidence and told him Miriam Deare was planning an organization of her own, that the professor was old and tired and he’d become too weak to manage the various operations.
“Pardon sir, pardon please, I’m just repeatin’ what I was told,” the poor terrified wretch had said.
“Go on,” Fell had answered, his face showing no reaction to this blasphemy.
The turncoat continued, haltingly, to relate his passage from Fell loyalist to fallen soul. What it came down to was something that Matthew knew the professor could readily understand: the lure of money and power. Those who helped Miriam Deare in what was expressed as a righteous cause in saving the empire Fell had built from breaking down like last century’s wagon were to be rewarded with more gold and higher positions of authority.
Matthew thought it was a tried-and-true story, and had made sense to those who’d participated. Thus the two cannons had fired and the two bodies torn apart, their stories ended but a new tale yet to begin.
It was time to get moving. Matthew had told the professor what Fell already knew, that Black had gotten only one of the books he’d desired. By now Black was well aware that since Mother Deare had not, presumably, taken a horse from the stable and met him at the tower he was not getting The Lesser Key. Black might find a copy at a bookseller, but it would likely not be in London. The professor had informed Matthew that the book was rare and made more so since Fell had bought up every copy in London at exorbitant prices. There was a possibility Black and his men might attack the Beautiful Grave again tonight or tomorrow night to get hold of it, or he might play a waiting game.
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