The bolt disengaged and invisible hands pulled the big doors outwards. Juana could see nothing but the flare of two torches, and behind them, blackness. But she could hear the sound of the sea, very near, crashing and roaring against the cliffs, and smell it salt in the cold air.
Beside her, Mrs. Brett spoke, her voice resonant, unrecognisable: ‘Who comes here?’
‘The Sons of the Star.’ A man’s voice from behind the right hand torch.
‘And why do you come?’
‘That we may gain wisdom, knowledge, power and peace.’
Mrs. Brett moved backwards and to one side. ‘Enter, Sons of the Star, and may your hearts’ desire be granted.’
The two torch-bearers advanced into the big cavern and Juana saw that they were robed like black monks, their cowls pulled so well forward that nothing could be seen of their faces.
‘Is the council chamber prepared?’ As the leader asked the question, the other shot the bolt in the big doors.
‘Search and see,’ said Mrs. Brett and took Juana by the hand to lead her back to the table, where they stood side by side, motionless, clearly revealed in the light of the seven candelabra, watching the two black-robed figures search the cavern. They were very thorough about it. When one of them turned the key on the inside of the door that led up to the castle, and removed it, Juana felt a pang of pure terror, and, at the same moment, felt her grandmother’s hand reassuringly on hers.
Now the two men had gone into the little cell, holding their torches high to search every corner of it. And again, admitting terror, Juana saw the leader remove the key from the lock before he returned to join them by the table.
‘All is prepared.’ Like Mrs. Brett’s, his voice echoed unrecognisably. ‘And yet all is not ready. Since you are two, who should be one, wait here, unworthy, to answer the question of the Star. And remember that to move or speak without leave in the presence of the Star is instant death.’
‘We will remember.’ Mrs. Brett’s hand was soothing on Juana’s, but it was impossible to tell whether she had expected this.
‘Then all is prepared. Open the gates, and let the Sons of the Star come in.’ As he spoke, he put one foot on a stool, one on the table and reached high with his torch to set light to a huge lantern, shaped like a seven-pointed star, that hung above the table.
The other man moved away down the hall, his torch casting strange shadows as he went, and unbolted and threw open the doors.
Juana heard the sound of the sea again and the scrape of feet on stone, then a procession of robed and cowled figures entered the cavern two by two and moved slowly toward the table. The acolyte who had opened the door remained by it, while the other moved forward from the table to meet the procession. The right hand man of the first pair stopped and spoke. ‘Son of the Star, is our council chamber ready?’
‘Not yet, most excellent Star.’ And suddenly, Juana was aware that the acolyte was almost as terrified as she. It was not a discovery likely to make her feel any better herself.
‘And why is it not ready?’ The colloquial Portuguese told her that this was not part of the rehearsed formula, but an improvisation.
‘Most excellent Star; there are two here, where should be one. Unworthy though they be, I have detained them here to meet the question of the Star.’
‘You have done well, my son.’ Juana thought the acolyte drooped with relief. ‘Let the intruders in our council chamber stand forward and explain themselves. One unworthy female under our sacred roof is too many; two are an insult to the Star.’
‘An insult, however, for which the Star should have been prepared.’ Mrs. Brett took a step forward, and Juana did the same. ‘I explained at the last meeting that I could no longer carry on my duties and must arrange a substitute. And here she is. An unworthy female, perhaps, but prepared to go to some trouble to make your meetings possible. For the same reward, of course, as I have received all the years, and the same promise of immunity.’
‘How like a female to speak of rewards. To serve the Star is a privilege, woman, and one of which none of your sex is worthy.’
Juana felt her grandmother stiffen beside her, and was afraid, for a moment, of what she might say. But after a slight pause she spoke mildly enough. ‘A promise is a promise, most excellent Star, and this is an old one. I had thought the Sons of the Star prided themselves on their long memories.’
‘We do. As those who cross us find to their cost. But we waste precious time on you, woman. Tell me, Sons of the Star, is she right in what she claims? Did she make such a request at our last meeting, from which I was, unavoidably, absent?’ And, it annoys him, thought Juana, to have to admit to being less than omniscient.
There was a murmur among the robed figures and then one stepped forward. ‘Yes, O Star. The female did, in fact, make such a request, and it was granted.’
‘And I was not informed! But we’ll not discuss that now. Woman, by what right do you suggest this substitution?’
‘By the right of age and infirmity.’
‘And this, your substitute, do you vouch for her as you would for yourself? Your life for her life, if she fail or betray us?’
‘I do.’
‘And you?’ He turned his cowled head towards Juana. ‘Do you realise what you are undertaking?’
‘I think so.’ Her voice shook a little, but she hoped that the strange acoustics of the place masked it.
‘You promise that once a month, at the full of the moon, in sickness and in health, maimed or halt, at whatever cost to yourself, you will be here to throw open the gates of the Star?’
‘I promise.’ She wished she was back in England.
‘And having opened the gates, you will retire to your own cell, as befits one of the inferior sex, and take no cognisance, not even in thought, of what goes on in this chamber?’
‘I promise.’ Her voice was steadier this time, perhaps because she knew it was a lie.
‘And when all is finished, and the acolytes let you forth again, you will close all behind them, and return to your own place, and speak not a word of what you have seen and done?’
‘I promise.’
‘Not to your nearest and dearest, not to your mother or your lover, neither under torture nor under fear of your life.’
‘I promise.’ And, how unreasonable, she thought, her irritation at this elaborate mumbo-jumbo suddenly rising in a flood to give her unexpected courage.
She needed it at once. ‘And if you fail us in any point of this,’ he went on, ‘do you devote yourself to the vengeance of the Star, which is more horrible than the vengeance of ordinary men, because slower and more subtle?’
‘I do.’
‘To be no longer even a woman – miserable creation of the left hand of God – but a thing, a death in life, mindless, speechless, an example to others. Out of your own mouth, do you condemn yourself to this, should you betray us?’
She could not help it: she hesitated for a moment. Then: ‘I do.’
‘It is well. Remember, woman, that the arm of the Star can stretch around the globe, the memory of the Star is like the memory of God, and the vengeance of the Star is more bitter than death.’
‘I will remember.’ And, it’s blasphemy, she thought, and, really rather absurd: the arm of the Star, indeed. But she was glad, just the same, that it seemed to be over.
The speaker had turned away from her to summon the acolytes. ‘It is well. I am satisfied. Let the council chamber be freed from the presence of these inferior creations of God.’
But as the acolytes moved forward to lead them away, another voice spoke up from the crowd of hooded figures, who had spread out into a loose semi-circle to watch and listen. ‘Most excellent Star, should we not know who the woman is?’
The simple, practical question seemed to take them all aback, and, surprisingly, it was Mrs. Brett who answered. ‘I may be merely an inferior creature,’ she said, ‘but I have been guardian of the gates for more than fifty years, and I have nev
er heard such a question asked in the house of the Star. Do you ask each other to throw off your cowls and show your faces? Do you, when a new member is initiated, ask him his name, or do you let two of his brothers vouch for him? Most excellent Star, I claim that this suggestion is an affront to the secrecy of the Star.’
‘Yes – well,’ the man they called the Star hesitated for the first time. ‘That’s rather another thing, you know.’ And then, recapturing his dignity. ‘The word of even one of the Sons of the Star is like the word of God, but you are merely a woman.’
‘Just so. And therefore, I am sure, after I made my request at the last meeting that that night’s Star made his own enquiries, where enquiries should be made. To him I appeal.’
‘She’s right, most excellent Star’ – how maddening it was not to be able to recognise voices – ‘enquiries have been made, and have proved satisfactory on every point.’
And that was a surprising thing, thought Juana.
‘Made by you?’ This was another voice.
‘No, by last month’s Star. As you know, he is not here tonight.’
‘But you vouch for him and for her.’ The leader obviously felt it was time he got the meeting under control. ‘Your life for their life, your blood for their blood, your death for their death?’
‘I do.’
‘Very well, Brother of the Ragged Staff. You will give your symbol to the junior acolyte, in token of this. And now, we have lost too much time. Remove these talking women, and let us to business.’
Listening to the key grinding in the lock on the other side of the cell door, Juana looked apprehensively around at the high roof and damp-smeared walls of the cell. Suppose the door was not unlocked, how long would they last?
‘We can talk now, until we open the panel.’ Mrs. Brett settled on the chair with a sigh of relief. ‘I’m sorry about all that. I hope it didn’t frighten you too much. I didn’t expect that last month’s Star would have left already. Tonight’s has always been more difficult.’
‘You know him? Who is he?’ They were speaking in whispers.
‘The less you know, child, the better.’
‘But when I’m on my own?’ She could not help a shudder at the thought. ‘How shall I tell you who says what?’
‘They all have their symbols, received when they are admitted as Sons of the Star. One on the front of the cowl, its replica in the pocket, to be handed in as identification when necessary. You heard.’
‘Yes, I see. But will I be able to tell them from here?’
‘You will have to. And you’ll find you can. The symbols are picked out in some kind of strange paint that catches the light. But it’s another reason why I have known, for some time, that I should have to give up. I have been finding it increasingly difficult to tell them apart. Ah!’ Once again the leaden sound of the gong had echoed through the wall. ‘They are about to close the great doors. Count ten, child, slowly, then blow out the candle and open the panel. Watch as if your life depended on it, which it does; and not a sound till it’s closed again.’
‘… Eight, nine, ten.’ When Juana blew out the candle, the darkness in the cell was absolute and it took her what seemed an age to feel her way back to the door and fumble for the rough place in the rock above it. But at last the panel slid back and she found herself looking straight at the council table and the cowled figures seated round it, all clearly illuminated by the star-shaped lamp. The leader was speaking: ‘… The news is bad, brothers. The day of Portugal’s liberation has been postponed again. The Czar of Russia has refused to ratify d’Oubril’s treaty with the French. Instead, he and the Prussians are conspiring against Napoleon, and the French army at Bayonne – the one our friend Junot was to have brought to our help – has been ordered to Germany.’
‘Is this certain?’ The speaker rose to his feet and Juana saw how the light of the central lamp caught the silver lion on his cowl.
‘Most certain, Brother of the Lion. I have it here, in Junot’s own hand. The messenger reached me only today.’
‘It’s always the same: fine promises and no performance.’ This speaker had a silver hand on his cowl. ‘I vote, most excellent Star, that we leave waiting for the French and take action on our own account. The whole country fears us; the army is away on the coast; the Prince Regent is at Mafra. We have our agents there, and at Sintra and Queluz with his wife and the old Queen. Let us strike now, fast and hard. With the House of Braganza extinct, who more able to take over the country than the Sons of the Star?’
‘You are ill-informed, Brother of the Silver Hand. The Prince Regent returned to Belem today. But I have more news for you; there is a plot against him afoot among the English – may they rot in the hell they deserve.’
‘The English plotting against Dom John?’ If Juana had not been so cold, and so frightened, she would have found something rather ridiculous about the way each speaker in turn bobbed to his feet so that the light caught his silver identifying emblem. Only the acolytes standing submissively to right and left of the Star, had none.
‘Yes. Lord St. Vincent is an impatient man. He does not know, yet, that the French have marched away from Bayonne. He still expects an invasion and has been trying to persuade Dom John that he and his family should sail for the Brazils, and safety. Our brother at Mafra has done his best to persuade the Prince Regent to go but unfortunately without success, since his sloth is even greater than his cowardice.’
‘Unfortunately?’
‘You do not think, Brother of the Silver Hand. Why murder the Braganzas if we can persuade them to disgrace themselves in the eyes of their people? The assassin’s is but a clumsy weapon, at the best of times. Murders make martyrs. You, of all people, should know that.’
‘But if they refuse to go?’ This was the Brother of the Lion.
‘St. Vincent proposes to kidnap them. He plans a great review of the British fleet. Dom John and as many of his family as possible will be lured aboard the Hibernia and carried off to the Brazils. Nothing could be better for our purpose. There will be a few days of complete confusion. We alone will be ready. Those of the royal family who remain in Portugal must be disposed of, at once, with the exception of one of the Princes – it doesn’t much matter which. The Prince Regent will be disgraced by his flight, and his wife dead – there must be no bungling there, lest she bring down the Spanish about our ears … And then, what more natural than that the Sons of the Star should come forward to bring order out of chaos and rule in the name of the young Prince? The murders, of course, will have been no affair of ours; merely accidental results of the confused state of the country. We will be the law-givers, the restorers of order: I doubt if we shall even need the Prince as figurehead for long.’
Juana was shuddering so much that her teeth chattered. She had a moment’s wild, irrational fear that the noise they made might be heard in the council chamber.
But the conspirators were busy now with practical details of their atrocious plan. The Brother of the Lion was to dispose of the Regent’s estranged wife, Carlota Joaquina, at her quinta of Ramalhao at Sintra. The Brother of the Silver Hand would deal with the old mad Queen at Queluz. Others were told off to look after other members of the royal family who might not be involved in the proposed kidnapping.
‘You will be ready, day and night.’ The leader summed it up.
‘And the signal?’ asked a brother who had not spoken before and who had his back to Juana so that she could not see his symbol.
‘The signal will be the kidnapping. We will be ready. No one else will. And now – the night draws on – we must be in our places by morning. Who knows, our chance may come tomorrow?’ He raised his hands as if in blessing. ‘Sons of the Star, we meet only to part; we separate that we may come together; we pledge ourselves, one and all to work without fear and without fail for the greater glory of the Star. What is the penalty for failure?’
‘Death.’ The voices echoed strangely.
‘And the doom of treachery?�
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‘The death in life that is worse than death.’
‘So be it. And now, brothers, may the Star speed you on your way, and make you worthy of its light.’
The two acolytes rose, as if this was their signal, and turned toward the big doors, and as they did so, Juana touched the rough stone with a shaking hand and the panel slid into place.
‘Good,’ whispered Mrs. Brett. ‘Now, light the candle, quickly.’
But this was more than Juana could do. Working in the dark, her shaking hands were incapable of striking the light she needed. She felt panic rising in her and at the same moment her grandmother’s firm, cold hand took away the tinder-box. ‘Never mind, you have done admirably.’ And then, as the candle flickered into life under her steady hands: ‘Sit down here by me, as if you’d been asleep most of the time. Your head in my lap. That’s it.’
It was horrible to be able to hear nothing, now, from the big cavern. ‘Suppose they don’t let us out?’ whispered Juana.
‘There will be no one to admit them to their next meeting.’
Juana shuddered. ‘But they may be running the country in a month’s time.’
‘I doubt that. Ah!’ The key grated in the lock on the other side of the door and it swung open to reveal the two acolytes. Behind them, the big cavern was empty and dark. Juana watched, shivering, as the two men went silently to work in the little cell, pushing the faintly smouldering brazier aside, preparing another and changing the guttering candle. Then, without a word said, they left the cell and moved, side by side across the cavern and out through the big doors. Once more, Juana heard the sea roaring below, before the doors shut it out and Mrs. Brett drove the big bolt home.
Going back, the climb seemed endless, even to Juana. Mrs. Brett looked ghastly: her breath laboured, her hands clutched like claws at the guide-rope by the stairs. Juana helped her where she could, but much of the time the stairway was too narrow. Once, Mrs. Brett swayed in front of her, and she wondered, for an endless moment, whether she would be able to catch her, or whether they would fall together to certain death in the cavern below.
The Winding Stair Page 9