‘It was such a wonderful idea!’ Sami said. ‘An automaton, life-sized, who could dance. Only a madman like my brother would even attempt it, and only a genius like him could achieve it.’
Adnan looked a little embarrassed. Harriet sipped her tea. ‘How on earth did you manage it, Mr Al-Said? It sounds impossible.’
He lifted his hands. ‘Just as the writing boy you liked is the illusion of intelligence, Mrs Westerman, so the dancer is an illusion of willed movement. The figure is a woman, and she has but one dance, a slow minuet. She is wearing a long dress so you never see it, but in truth her feet do not leave the floor. It would be impossible for her to stand if they did.’ He shrugged his shoulders.
‘Like this,’ Sami said. He scrambled into the space between the workbenches and the shelves covered with faces, eyes and brass keys, then he stood very straight with one hand raised, the other at his waist and his nose in the air. Rachel laughed. He wrinkled his nose at her, then resumed the pose and took two slow rhythmic steps forward, his hand still raised as if holding his partner by the fingertips, but he held his foot very low and level over the floorboards. ‘Imagine that under my foot is a wheel,’ he said. ‘It appears as if my leg lifts and carries the foot forward.’ He tilted his head towards his imaginary partner and blinked.
Harriet shook her head. ‘Can she turn?’
Adnan nodded. ‘Have you ever skated on ice, Mrs Westerman?’
‘I have,’ she said.
‘The movement is similar.’ Sami continued his mime, turning as he slid over the wooden floor and took two steps the other way, then he dropped the pose and pushed his hands deep into his pockets, hunching his shoulders. ‘It was cruel, to have us build such a wonder then give her away where the world cannot admire her. Poor Nancy. I miss her.’
Adnan’s eyes were slightly clouded. ‘We shall build another dancer, Sami. We have all the designs — and the money, of course.’
‘We deserved a pension for that work. Though I admit,’ he smiled at Harriet, ‘the gold did help pull the sting a little.’
Harriet was looking at the leather folders piled at Adnan’s elbow. ‘May I see the designs? What did she look like?’
Sami clambered over the worktop and launched himself at a pile of his own papers. ‘Adnan’s designs of the wheels and levers will mean little to you, Mrs Westerman, but let me show you this …’
He became, briefly, a flurry of activity, sorting through his own piles of drawings and sketches, then drew one out. The paper showed the figure of a woman dancing, seen in profile, and another sketch showing her looking out of the paper back at the viewer. It was not a girl’s face or figure. Harriet would guess the woman to be a little younger than herself, and she was not beautiful, but pretty. Gentle. ‘Are these your work, Mr Al-Said?’
Sami shook his head. ‘No, the drawings came with the commission. Then the talisman you noticed. That was to be painted on the front of the torso, but out of sight, under the clothing, as I said.’
‘The clothing too was specified,’ Adnan said. ‘In fact, it was provided. It came with the money and the notes as to what the model was to do and how.’
Harriet put her fingers to her forehead as if she could massage the thoughts out of her brain. ‘Provided? Surely … I am alone in suspecting …?’
‘That we were recreating an actual woman? Yes, Mrs Westerman, we suspected that. I am afraid I did not know what to think. An artist paints living people, a sculpture has living models.’
‘But you add movement, does that not make your creations something different?’
Adnan put his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand and gave a lop-sided smile. ‘I do not know, Mrs Westerman. Suppose this is the recreation of a woman lost to our client, or even a portrait bought to compliment her, what harm could it do? It is only an automaton. Even if it is a rather wonderful one.’
She continued to stare at the portrait. It had life in it, even this simple piece of paper. ‘Was there anything else unusual about this commission?’
‘There was hardly anything usual about it. One more element, perhaps; there was a stipulation that there be a gap in the torso.’ He took his turn at his own papers and held out a sheet towards her. It showed a space, neatly measured eight inches by eight.
‘For what could this be?’
‘I asked, of course, since leaving that space made a complicated work more complicated still. The messenger simply said it was required. That was his answer to any question asked.’
‘Who was the messenger? One of the servants of the palace, you said. Do you know his name?’
Adnan pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Wolf, William … no, Wimpf! That was it, Wimpf.’
Harriet’s pace was a little too hot for Rachel as they returned through the garden. She felt a clutch in her stomach and came to a halt.
‘A little sickness, Harry. If we could just sit for a moment?’ She fought the swell of nausea. ‘Talk to me, Harriet, give me something else to think on. Why are you so interested in this sign, the automata?’
Harriet put her arm around her sister’s shoulders and thought of her own times of pregnancy. That strange yellow nausea that came so violently, then left her, that first glorious moment when life stirred in her. ‘That design came from one of the books stolen from Kupfel along with the poison books. Below that was mention of some manner of ritual using blood. Now I wonder at the secrecy with which the model was commissioned.’
‘The servant they mentioned, Wimpf — he is the man who cleaned the secret room for Major Auwerk, is he not?’
‘Yes, though of course he must serve the needs of any number of people at the court during the day.’
‘I see.’
‘Do you believe him, Rachel?’ Harriet asked suddenly. Rachel realised she had been waiting for the question.
‘Manzerotti? That he did not order James’s death? I cannot say. It is plausible, I suppose. Do you?’
Harriet put her hand to her face. ‘I simply don’t know, my love. Part of me feels it does not matter. Whatever I do, whatever revenge I might dream of taking, I can never bring James back.’ She suddenly froze. ‘Oh my Lord …’
‘What is it, Harry?’
‘The automata, the rituals, the blood. There was a sentence in one of those volumes taken from Herr Kupfel’s about fixing a spirit in a statue. But the lady was banished, not killed, it was her boy that died. We must get back to the palace and talk to Crowther and find out about the woman in the picture. Could it be the widow, Frau Kastner, driven from court, and if so, is she alive and where did she go? Are you recovered?’
‘Just a moment more, please, Harriet. My head is spinning.’
The sisters sat together in silence, then, just as Rachel opened her mouth to speak again, Harriet held up her hand. There was the sound of footsteps close by on the gravel and on the other side of the hedge, Harriet heard Manzerotti’s voice; he was speaking in French.
‘You have done very well, you will leave Maulberg a rich man. I think I could have named the names on this list …’
‘How?’ The person to whom Manzerotti was speaking sounded rather put out. It was the voice of a young man.
‘They are dead. All but one of them.’
‘Good God. The Circle of seven? Those closest to power in Maulberg? What a blow to the Minervals.’
‘You sound sorry for them. Do you wish to sit, does your ankle pain you?’
‘It’s not a problem as long as I don’t forget and put my weight on it too suddenly. You should have seen me, clambering all over those roofs like a damn squirrel. Honestly, Philippe, then waking in that muck. Lord, I thought I’d never stop stinking.’
Harriet realised she had never heard Manzerotti’s first name spoken aloud before, she didn’t even think he had one. Rachel’s hand lay in hers; she squeezed it gently.
‘But look here,’ the unknown voice continued. ‘Are these other people in danger?’ They heard the sound of paper being unfolded, jabbed at
.
Harriet heard Manzerotti’s soft laugh. ‘Now you have given me their names, yes, I think they are in quite a lot of danger, don’t you?’
‘That’s not what I mean, and you know it.’
‘What is your concern?’
‘Florian.’
‘Oh yes, the young man of whom you have made such exemplary use. A young man at his studies in Leuchtenstadt. No, I don’t believe the murderous hand will reach to him. What the Duke will do to him when he learns he is part of this society, I cannot say.’
‘I want to get him out of Leuchtenstadt.’ Harriet heard Manzerotti sigh and there was a rustle of clothing as he took a seat on the other side of the hedge. She caught Rachel’s eye. Her sister looked uncomfortable. Drained as she was, Harriet still smiled. It was typical of her sister’s strict codes of behaviour that she could feel it was wrong to eavesdrop on the conversations of a spy.
‘You have become sentimental, my boy?’
‘Let me take his name off the list — they’ll never know. And get him to his father’s place till all this dies down. He’s just an infant! All ideals and soft-heartedness, with no idea what he is caught up in.’
There was a short silence before Manzerotti spoke. ‘I think the same might be said of you, Pegel.’
There was no reply.
Then: ‘I shall consider it.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Let us return to the palace, Jacob. I would like you to explain what you have been about to a widow of my acquaintance and an anatomist.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I know.’
The footsteps retreated. Rachel looked up at her sister. ‘It rather sounds as if we should be making our way back too, does it not?’
‘Indeed it does. I hope we will hear from Michaels today.’
‘He will have found her trail, Harriet. No one is more capable. But I fear learning what he has found at its end.’
VI.3
Harriet only had time to tell Clode and Crowther what she had learned in the village before a note arrived asking them to meet Manzerotti in Swann’s office. Rachel and Clode went to release Graves from his watch at the Chancellor’s bedside. When they were admitted to the Chancellor’s office Harriet did not see the castrato, but instead a young man in a dark blue coat sitting in Swann’s chair. He had his feet up on the desk, his hands linked behind his head and his eyes closed. His face was rather bruised. As they entered he opened one eye and looked at them both carefully, but made no movement.
‘Manners, Pegel.’ Manzerotti’s voice spoke slowly from the window where he leaned, half-watching the activity in the courtyard. The youth rolled his eyes and sighed lustily but stood, rather awkwardly, nonetheless, and made a bow. ‘This, Mr Crowther, Mrs Westerman, is Jacob Pegel.’
‘Delighted,’ Harriet murmured and examined the youth more closely. He looked away.
‘Pegel is a … friend of mine, who has a talent for discovering all sorts of interesting information.’
‘Another spy then?’ Crowther asked, and Harriet saw Pegel blush under his purple bruises.
‘Ignore Mr Crowther,’ Manzerotti said. He joined Pegel behind Swann’s desk and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘His manners are worse than yours. Tell them.’
‘If you wish it, Philippe,’ the youth said rather stiffly, then he continued in rapid, rather rough-edged French. ‘I have got my paws on a mound of information about a group active in Maulberg. Call themselves the Minervals. I have lists of their members and a number of instructions going back and forth in cipher, and I’ve had a look at a fair few of their letters in plain text. They have a presence in various states in Germany, but they are most proud of the stranglehold they have over Maulberg. I have a note from last year speaking of Maulberg as a paradigm for the new world order.’
‘How did you break the cipher?’ Harriet said.
He shrugged. ‘I’m cleverer than they are.’
Crowther took a seat. ‘Are our victims on your membership list? Or do the instructions include their death warrants?’
Pegel glanced at Manzerotti.
‘Mr Pegel,’ Crowther said with a slight drawl, ‘I assume that what you have discovered from your espionage has a bearing on the murders in Ulrichsberg. I cannot believe we have been dragged from our coffee merely to hear you boast.’
Pegel looked at him with his head on one side and folded his arms. ‘Look, Mr Crowther, all I know of you is that you are a competent anatomist, you left one of Manzerotti’s men to be torn about by the mob — Johannes was his name, I think — and you were just quite rude to me. What gives you the right to sit down and look at me as if you are settling in for an interrogation?’
Harriet had never heard Crowther being spoken to in that fashion. He looked at Pegel as if he had two heads. He then put his fingertips together and opened his mouth to reply.
‘Forgive Pegel, Gabriel,’ Manzerotti said quickly. ‘He is very tired.’ He then turned towards the boy. ‘Pegel, my dear, Johannes did work for me I do not think I would ever ask of you. He also killed a number of people, including this lady’s husband.’
‘Oh.’
‘So you see, you cannot blame them for taking against my old friend.’
‘And I am a great deal more than competent,’ Crowther said.
Pegel unfolded his arms and clasped his hands behind his back instead. Then cleared his throat. ‘The members of the organisation call themselves the Minervals, as I say. There is, or rather was, a circle of seven individuals at Maulberg, who seemed to hold the reins of the state.’
‘And their symbol is the owl,’ Harriet said.
Pegel rocked on his heels. ‘Err, yes.’ Harriet thought she saw Manzerotti’s mouth twitch into a smile.
‘And am I right in thinking the names of those seven are our victims and Chancellor Swann?’
‘Yes. Honestly, you are good!’ Pegel said, grinning at her.
‘But this marriage was not their design, was it?’ Crowther said. ‘Even before someone began to kill them in this foul way, they had begun to lose their influence. Their control. So what made things go so terribly wrong for them?’
Pegel sat down again at the desk and started to rub his right ankle. ‘They spilled some ink on that subject, as you can imagine. There were words about the influence of “John Bull.”’
‘That must be Colonel Padfield,’ Harriet said, and she saw Manzerotti nod.
‘… and of the Toy Man.’
‘The Toy Man?’ Harriet repeated. ‘Count Frenzel, I suppose. He did collect automata once, the Al-Saids mentioned it.’
‘They are only referred to by those names. Then, towards the end of the year they speak about the unfortunate losses in their circle. Remember, Mrs Westerman, I am talking about letters written in plain language. Only when they wrote in code did they name names, state facts.’
‘But they did not see those deaths as suspicious?’
‘As I said, the word used was “unfortunate”. What has been said since you threw the cat amongst the pigeons, I can’t say.’
Crowther examined his cuffs. ‘The note Mrs Westerman found in Swann’s office?’
‘From …’ Pegel glanced at Manzerotti. ‘A gentleman in Leuchtenstadt. A suggestion of who to approach, and hopefully recruit, in the party arriving with the new Duchess. It seems events here have come too thick and fast for news to get to Leuchtenstadt.’
‘How did you manage to discover so much about them, Mr Pegel?’ Harriet asked.
‘Oh, a little play-acting. Best way to get an idea of an organisation is to make it think it is under attack. They recruit among the various orders of Freemasonry, so I made them think one of those orders, the Rosicrucians, were cutting up rough.’ He shrugged.
Harriet got to her feet. ‘So what is their aim?’
‘In general? Oh you know, a New World Order, universal brotherhood and justice, no property, no states … that sort of thing.’
‘That certainly would be new
,’ Crowther said dryly.
Pegel gave a snort of laughter and Harriet found herself thinking he could only just be out of the schoolroom. ‘So who gives the orders, who leads?’ she demanded. ‘Swann said something about “secret superiors”.’
Manzerotti straightened and left his post at the window. ‘You must indulge the performer in me on that point. You will know of them soon enough. It’s really quite entertaining. Then I do have a rather dark sense of humour.’
Harriet looked at him steadily and he smiled, showing his white sharp teeth, then she turned back to Pegel. ‘And once they held power in Maulberg, Mr Pegel? What did they do with it? There is no universal brotherhood here.’
Pegel had the trick of youth in that his mood seemed able to switch in moments. He suddenly looked faintly miserable. ‘They did what everyone with power does in my experience, Mrs Westerman. They spent most of their energies trying to hang onto it. I imagine they told themselves that others of their kind were moving into positions of power in other states, then these “superiors” would give the word and the New World Order would magic itself into being.’
‘As lead magically transforms to gold,’ Crowther said darkly.
‘That’s it exactly, Mr Crowther!’ Pegel said, and in his enthusiasm leaned on his bad ankle and winced. ‘And just like alchemy, you end up with lead and a nasty smell.’ Even the corner of Crowther’s mouth twitched at that.
Pegel was still grinning at the idea when Harriet spoke again. ‘I suspect someone is taking a very personal revenge, Mr Pegel. Are there any references to them having done great damage to anyone? Did you see the name Kastner mentioned anywhere?’
He shook his head. ‘Mostly petty shufflings, as far as I can tell. Though after the deaths of Raben and Warburg, they talked about how cleverly they had avoided the danger posed by the Carpenter’s daughter. It was as if they wished to encourage themselves. Whatever the plot was, they seemed to think they had been very clever.’
‘I wonder if that was Frau Kastner.’
Circle of Shadows caw-4 Page 30