The whispers became louder and more animated. Mrs Baker banged the table, and the maids fell silent.
‘This man was unconscious when I left them,’ Silas continued. ‘The doctor has examined him and says there’s no major injury. The hospital is more than full, and we were keen to do as much as we could to help. No-one knew him, and no-one claimed him, so Mr Payne was worried for this chap, and of course, His Lordship wouldn’t hear of him being left on his own. So, Mrs Baker, could you have the connecting room made up as well? Have plenty of hot water and… whatever ready too. Mr Wright can find suitable clothes for the stranger.’
‘May I ask…?’ Saddle stepped forward.
‘Yes?’ Silas expected the under-butler to present some unthought-of obstacle to Archer’s plan, some point of etiquette he didn’t want broken, but, surprisingly, he was as concerned as everyone else.
‘What can I do, Mr Hawkins?’
‘Thank you, Mr Saddle. Thank you, everyone.’ Silas gave them all an appreciative smile. ‘His Lordship said that everyone would want to help, but the less fuss we make, the better. Saddle, you’re to stand in for Mr Payne like you were doing when we were in the city.’
‘Very good, Sir.’
‘Then we should get on,’ Mrs Baker stood.
‘One more thing,’ Silas said, halting her in her tracks. ‘Two things, actually. First, preparations for the dinner on Friday are to carry on as normal in the hope the line will be open, and guests can get here. That’s down to you, Mr Saddle.’ The under-butler preened at the responsibility. ‘Secondly, there’s another houseguest on his way. Mr Wright rescued a young lad from third-class. We don’t know who he is, and he’s not saying anything, but if he was travelling with anyone, they are now… Well, he is on his own until someone claims him. His Lordship asked that Mrs Baker take care of him somewhere.’
‘Of course,’ the housekeeper said, concerned. ‘Is he injured?’
‘No, but he is very shocked, and so the doctor’s sedated him. Maybe put him in a room, and one of the girls can sit with him? I’ll leave it to you. Everyone should be back soon. And that’s it.’
Silas was impressed with himself as much as he was impressed with the way the staff reacted to his authority. He had never addressed them on behalf of Archer, and it dawned on him that this was his job and what they expected from him. As Archer’s man’s man, his personal, private secretary, he was closer to the viscount than anyone else in the room, even those who had known the viscount since he was a child. In truth, he hadn’t even thought about that, he had simply done as instructed, as would the servants. For someone who hardly spent any time below stairs, Archer knew his staff well.
The whispers had become gossip, and the maids were asking questions.
What happened? How many were hurt? Were more injured to come to the Hall? They were all sensible concerns, but also ones that would have to wait.
‘I’ll tell you everything when I can’, Silas said, silencing the chatter. ‘For now, there is a lot to do, and I’ll leave you in Mrs Baker’s hands to see it done. Apparently, you know where medical supplies are kept. We will need to re-dress some wounds, but nothing major. Mr Wright and I can take care of that. They thought Mr Payne’s friend had a broken ankle, but apparently not. Like Mr Payne, he’s only bruised, cut and got knocked out. Mrs Baker? Well… You know what to do.’
‘Thank you, Sir.’ Mrs Baker stood and began organising her troops. ‘Iona, Karan, make sure the fires are lit, the rooms are aired, and the beds made. Lucy, the bairn can be in with you, you being the most sensible.’
‘I’ll make a broth,’ Mrs Flintwich volunteered as if her cooking was the answer to all ills as chairs scraped, voices babbled, and the servants set about their tasks.
‘A word.’ Silas drew the housekeeper to one side as the others left. ‘When they get here, they will need to be washed and changed. I think it’s best if we men do that.’
‘I quite agree, Sir. Mr Saddle and Mr Wright…’
‘I’ll assist Mr Wright,’ Silas said. ‘Let Saddle see to His Lordship when he gets back. He’ll have to take over Mr Wright’s duties for a while too.’
‘Very good, Sir.’ The housekeeper was relieved she wasn’t going to have to undress anyone. ‘And what of Mr Williams and the brothers?’
She had not yet come to terms with Fecker and Danylo’s surname.
‘They’re fine,’ Silas reassured her. ‘They’re covered in muck and worse from carrying the injured and… other things.’ The other things were bodies, as the brothers had assisted the police in removing the dead to the hospital morgue and the butcher shop. It was the only other place with a large-enough cold storage to keep them until the police had identified the corpses, but she didn’t need to know the gruesome details. ‘All they need is a bath and a rest. We must get ready to welcome injured strangers and your main man.’
‘I’ve never heard His Lordship called that.’ Mrs Baker raised an eyebrow.
‘I meant Tommy,’ Silas said, and out of habit, winked. Mrs Baker had always been fond of Thomas.
She rolled her eyes at his cheek and bustled away, shouting at the laundry maid to start boiling water.
The carriage returned an hour later, driven by Fecker and carrying Thomas and Danylo. Archer and the stable lads brought back the horses, and a short while later, Williams drove up in the trap bringing the stranger and the boy, both sedated into sleep and laying on the floor attended by James. Neither was expected to wake until the evening. Archer oversaw the arrangements as the men were carried into the house through the tower entrance, which offered the most direct route from the yards to the first floor.
James brought the lad to the servants’ hall where, with permission from Mrs Baker, he carried him to the female servants’ rooms on the top floor. Lucy fussed, made the bed, set the fire and turned her back while James cleaned the lad and put him in pyjamas too large for him before hurrying down to Thomas.
The older stranger was laid on the bed in the Bosworth suite and Barnaby was tasked to watch over him until the other men had seen to Thomas.
Silas, Archer and James, stood at the bedside looking at their friend. Tom’s hair was matted with blood from a cut which had also painted his face and ruined his shirt. There wasn’t much left of his jacket and trousers, the material being more rips than cloth, and where the doctor had pulled his shirt free to check his abdomen, it had been done up on the wrong holes.
‘He won’t want to see himself in this state,’ Archer whispered. ‘How are we going to do this?’
When there was no answer, he looked at James and saw he was holding back tears. Archer put his arm around the valet’s shoulders and drew him to his side. ‘He’ll be fine, Jimmy,’ he said. ‘We haven’t lost him.’
‘Sorry, Sir,’ James said, trying to pull away. ‘I forgot myself.’
‘Come here.’
Archer hugged the man, and the act brought James to tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ James spluttered again. ‘It’s just shock.’
‘You take your time.’ Archer patted his back. ‘Better to get it out now so you can be strong for him later. And while you’re pulling yourself together, we have to decide who’s going to do what.’
‘Can I make a suggestion?’ Silas didn’t wait for an answer. ‘James ought to be the one to undress him, but I’m happy to lend a hand if you need me to lift. Only, I don’t think Tommy would want to think that you’d seen him naked, Archie.’
‘I think, in his present state, he wouldn’t know let alone mind,’ Archer replied. ‘But I see your point. We’ll see to Mr Smith while you do it, Jimmy, but we’ll help get Tom down to his underclothes first. See what the damage is.’
Together, and with James recovered, they undressed the butler until he wore only his long johns. Silas’ ideas about modesty wasn’t a s
uccess as the long johns were as ripped as his trousers, and there was no way to cover what was on display. Silas caught Archer gawping before he looked away as if he’d just seen something he’d often wondered about. Who could blame him? Silas had often wondered the same thing about Thomas, but there were more appropriate times for such thoughts. The intimate act of washing him and changing dressings fell to James, and he was left alone to care for his lover.
In the next bedroom, Silas and Archer found Mr Smith on his back, laid atop an old blanket to protect the sheets from the dirt and soot on his clothes. The fire was alight, and an open window aired the room which had not been used since the late viscount’s funeral.
Barnaby was dismissed, and they set about removing the man’s shoes, socks and jacket, finding his clothes in much the same condition as Thomas’, and his vest stained with patches of darkly dried blood.
‘Doctor Penhale told me that his ankle is most likely sprained,’ Archer said. ‘It’s certainly not broken, but we may as well leave on the bandage that’s there.’
‘Whatever you say.’
‘Help me get his shirt off, then bring the water, will you?’
They removed the man’s shirt with Archer holding him up and supporting his head and weight while Silas manoeuvred his arms from the sleeves, and then did the same with his undershirt. Pulling it free, it revealed a toned chest, smooth except for a few dark hairs in the centre. His stomach was drawn in showing its muscles, and the otherwise perfectly pale body was marred only by unevenly shaped bruises and scratches.
‘Who is he?’ Silas asked as they laid him down.
‘All Tom said was that they were chatting just before the accident.’ Archer told him, dipping a cloth in warm water and applying it gently to the man’s angular face.
Silas took hold of his drawers at the waist. ‘Shall I?’ he said, pulling a worried look. ‘Seems odd.’
‘Silas, when I was at sea, we had to do a lot worse than undress a man.’
‘Oh, aye?’ Silas smirked.
‘Now isn’t the time,’ Archer chided, unable to hold back a knowing smile. ‘It’ll make a change for you, getting a man’s drawers off without first being paid.’
‘Cheeky fecker.’
‘We’re all just men, Silas,’ Archer said. ‘This man needs help, he’s not going to mind you seeing his… luggage.’
‘Luggage?’
‘Well, he was travelling. Just get them off and see if he’s got any injuries on his legs that we need to see to, then turn him over and we’ll wash his back. Poor chap.’
‘Mr Smith?’
‘So Tom said. Joshua Smith.’
‘Unknown, unclaimed passenger?’
‘Indeed. No-one at the scene knew him. Unless he was travelling with one of the unfortunates, he is a mystery.’
‘Anything in his pockets?’
‘Only that.’ Archer pointed to the pile of clothes. He had been through them and found only a pocket watch. ‘It’s gold, so I expect he’s a man of means, and someone will claim him in due course.’
‘No identification?’
‘Nothing but his ticket. Not even any money. Tom said he was heading west, but was on the wrong train. Lord knows where he thought he was going.’
‘Oh my.’
Silas looked down on the now naked man, and his voice drew Archer’s attention away from his work.
‘I thought you were a big lad,’ Silas said.
‘Will you just get the poor man washed and not worry about his…? Oh, just get on with it, you dirty-minded, gorgeous beast.’ A quick glance at the door and Archer leant over and kissed Silas on the lips. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ he whispered.
‘Love you, Your Lordship.’
James joined them just as Archer had washed the last of the grime and blood from the man’s face, and Silas was changing the water in the bathroom.
‘Fuck me,’ he said as he walked in.
‘Not you too,’ Silas tutted returning with the bowl. ‘He’s a man with a big dick, alright? No need to be jealous.’
‘That aside,’ Archer said. ‘Can you help us turn him, Jimmy.’
‘Of course.’
‘How’s Tom?’
‘Clean, in pyjamas and sleeping,’
‘Good man. Now, take his legs, Silas that side…’
Together, they rolled Mr Smith gently onto his front, with Archer arranging his arm, so it wasn’t crushed. His back was covered in blood which gave Archer cause for concern, and he dipped a clean cloth into the fresh water to see what damage lay beneath.
James was bringing a pair of Silas’ pyjamas from the armchair where he’d set them when he heard Archer draw in a deep breath, and whispered, ‘Oh my God.’
‘What is it?’ he asked, coming around the bed for a closer look. ‘Bloody hell!’ In cleaning the man, Archer had revealed an inked pattern on his skin. ‘Are those teeth?’
Archer revealed more. ‘I believe so. And here.’
‘It’s a mouth.’
‘Yes.’ The cloth was dipped, rinsed, and more of the man’s back came to light. ‘No cuts,’ Archer said. ‘The blood must be from elsewhere. Have you ever seen anything like this?’
‘No, Sir. It looks like… Is it a wolf? No, it’s a dragon,’ James said. ‘Incredible.’
‘A dragon indeed,’ Archer said as he worked. ‘If I’m not mistaken, it’s the Râșnov balaur sacru.’
‘The what?’ Silas asked, gawping.
‘The Râșnov balaur sacru,’ Archer repeated, as if by doing so the others would understand its significance.
James and Silas exchanged shrugs.
‘Rasnov?’ James queried. ‘As in Musat-Rasnov?’
Silas looked him up and down. ‘You’ve heard of it?’
‘I’ve heard His Lordship’s full title,’ James said. ‘And so have you. It was read out in court.’
‘It was, Jimmy,’ Archer agreed.
‘So what does it mean?’ Silas asked.
‘It means,’ Archer said as he continued to wash the man’s back. ‘I doubt this person is called Mr Smith.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the Râșnov balaur sacru is Romanian shorthand for “The scared dragon of the family Rasnov.” It is also part of the family crest, and the Rasnovs are one of the oldest houses of Romanian royalty. Transylvanian to be precise, but they and the Szekely people have been in dispute for centuries.’
‘Well, blow me down with a feather. He’s a royal?’
‘Not necessarily.’ Archer worked the cloth over the remaining blood, cleaning the last blemish away from the tattoo. He drew in a sharp breath.
‘What is it?’ Silas leant in for a closer look.
‘He’s not Romanian royalty,’ Archer said.
‘Make up your mind. Why d’you say that?’
‘The Dragon is part of the Rasnov royal crest,’ Archer explained. ‘And I know that because I am distantly related to them through my mother’s Hapsburg line, but not this dragon, not this pattern.’
He sat back, dropped the cloth into the bowl, and his brow furrowed in thought.
‘Not this one?’ James prompted.
‘Protectorul regalității Râșnov.’ Archer’s words were whispered, as if he was casting a spell.
‘Speak up.’
Archer cleared his throat. ‘The direction makes this symbol the mark of the Protectorul regalității Râșnov. The Protector of Rasnov royalty. It means he works for the family, but isn’t part of it.’
‘Works as what?’
Archer regarded Silas, concerned. ‘As an assassin.’
Seven
It took an hour for James to tell Thomas what had happened, and for Thomas to tell him what he remembered
. By the time they had exchanged stories, they had finished the supper Mrs Baker had delivered, and Thomas was feeling a little better although his head still thumped, and his limbs were heavy. James sat beside him on the bed with his lover resting on his shoulder.
‘What happens to Mr Smith now?’ Thomas asked.
‘The Rasnov assassin?’ James grinned, finding the revelation exciting rather than disturbing. ‘I’m not sure. His Lordship said he would come and talk about it later. He’s gone back to the village to see what else he can do to help.’
‘His heart’s too big, that’s his problem.’
‘I don’t disagree with you there, but it’s also his duty. At least, that’s what he said.’
‘He said something strange.’ Thomas was uncomfortable after so long in one position and tried to hoist himself up the bed. James helped.
‘Who, Smith?’
‘Yes. It was just before the accident. I could tell something was wrong, and I told him to hold on. I thought we would just tip as we took the corner, but at the same time, I knew we were about to crash.’
‘Hey, don’t upset yourself over it.’ James kissed Thomas’ hair. It smelt of Archer’s musk oil.
‘It’s okay, Jimmy,’ Thomas said, stroking James’ hand. ‘I’d rather talk and get it out.’
‘If you’re sure. What did he say?’
‘I was right. We tipped, the carriage I mean, and one side left the track. A second later it came down with a crash and bounced, throwing us in the air. It would have been a comical sight, like those rope swings at the summer fair when you make them go too high, but it was too serious for that. Mr Smith rose at the same speed as me and fell back to his seat just as quickly. It was then he said something like “I am Eshuat.” That’s what it sounded like. It might have been one word, but it didn’t make any sense. What did it mean?’
‘I don’t know, Tom. Like I said, it’s all a mystery, and one we’re going to look at tomorrow. For now, you should go back to sleep. Mrs Baker left another powder for you.’
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