by Candy Rae
“In the soup.”
“In the paws of the Larg,” the Duke of Duchesne corrected him, “no, we go now. Let’s not wait until the crisis is upon us and our esteemed Duke of Baker tries to take control.”
“Who do you think we should send?”
“It has to be someone we can trust, someone with brains and who will not lose his head if things don’t go exactly according to plan.”
“We’ll send my son Charles,” replied Henri Cocteau with decision.
“Can he be spared?”
“William, all anyone needs to do at the moment is claim to feel unwell and all of his friends and colleagues fall over themselves trying to get the person off the premises fearing a return of the plague.”
William grinned, “he’ll need a boat and I know just the one.”
“Another of your ‘illicit’ trading vessels?”
“The Captain has been known to visit the North from time-to-time. Of course, most of these visits are bona fide trading journeys. A few though, well … even some citizens of Vadath are not above a bit of illegal trading, if the price is right.”
“Goods or information?” asked Henri in a bland tone.
“Whatever. Now, let’s get your son on his way.”
* * * * *
Santhed (Fourth Month of Winter) – AL156
Crisis (6)
It was now more than twenty days since Artur Bernardson’s disappearance had been reported.
John Branling, Police Superintendent, sat staring at his notes on the desk before him; the census records, the list of names and a summary about what was known about the Kushner farm.
John Branling was sure it related to the disappearance of Artur Bernardson. If he solved the conundrum he would find the man.
What was it his brain was stubbornly refusing to remember about the farm? He waited with impatience for an answer from the one man alive who might still remember.
There was a knock at the door and a member of the ‘Express’ entered. Like the Vada, the riders wore maroon but, instead of the silver badges the serving vadeln-pairs wore on their tunics, they wore the golden emblem of a shooting star, signifying speedy deliveries to anywhere where Lind paws and minds could reach.
The man passed a handwritten card over to John Branling. It was blue, which informed him that this was a telepathic message sent to him from … he scanned the originating name-tag … yes, it was from Andel, old friend of his father, retired from the Garda for over twenty years.
The Express operative left but John Branling knew he would wait behind the door in case there was a reply.
He scanned the words with eager anticipation, nor was he disappointed.
As it was a telepathic message, it was short and to the point; ‘Greetings. Kushner Farm. Yes. Duty station near. Ordered to protect. Important. Written message follows fast delivery. Protect family.’
He read it again but couldn’t decide what it meant. He would have to wait for the letter. It arrived two days later.
He tore it open; ‘John, good to hear from you. I hope you and your family are well. As you know I have been retired from the Garda for a long time but I do remember the Kushner farm. Until just before I made Colonel, I don’t remember exactly when, the farm and its occupants were protected by the Garda. I’m the only one still alive who remembers this. I always knew that it was important in some way but was never told officially why. I assumed that it was the depository of something valuable or important from the early years, technical records, even gold but I never believed this was the whole truth. I, personally, suspected that it was the Kushner family that was important; they appeared most ordinary though. We were instructed to keep an eye out, to report any suspicious looking people nosing about and I’m sure the Lind were there too but I never saw any. Only the Officer-in-Charge knew why we were there and as far as I know the order had been the same for years, decades, perhaps longer. I did two duty rotas and never saw anything that warranted a report. Then, I disremember when exactly, perhaps around AL117, the order was rescinded.’
The letter went on but John Branling stopped reading. The Kushner farm had been sold in AL114 when the family moved to Vadath. The record of where exactly in Vadath the family was moving was one of the missing documents but the Superintendent was more positive than ever that the Kushner family and Artur Bernardson were connected.
He decided that the conundrum was beyond him. The family had moved to Vadath. It was time to get in touch with the authorities there. Perhaps they could shed some light on the matter.
Accordingly he sent a runner with a letter containing his suspicions to the local ‘Express’ office. From there it was taken by fleet lindpaw to Susa Lynsey of the Vada. John Branling sat back to await events.
Artur Bernardson’s weighted-down, fish-nibbled and decomposing body was found in Lake Stewart a few days later.
Susa Lynsey forwarded the information sent to her by John Branling to one of her vadeln-pairs who worked closely with the Avuzdel.
They knew enough to know that the Kushner descendants, at present living in south-west Vadath might well be in danger and instructed Lynsey to send a Ryzck to the farm to protect them.
The Ryzck set out immediately but it was too late.
* * * * *
Kidnap (1)
The men crept towards the dark farmhouse. Patch, the guard terrier was concentrating on her day-old litter of puppies and apart from a low growl and a few warning yaps did not venture out of her cosy hay bed in the barn.
Her subdued yapping did rouse David Crawford. He donned his trews with haste and ran barefoot down the stairs after telling Anne to go back to sleep. He had a gravid and near term zarova cow in the other barn and was thinking she might need some help.
He met the masked men at the foot of the stairs.
The largest of the men grabbed him and held a dagger to his throat. “Do as you’re told and no-one will get hurt.”
“Get them all up,” a tall elegant man in black velvet ordered. The tone of authority in his voice was unmistakable.
David heard his family rising from their beds, the rough voices of the intruders, the frightened squeals of the children, Anne’s voice. His wife and children stumbled down the stairs. Little Ruth was still three-quarters asleep and Xavier not much better. Annette was crying.
“Are they pirates?” whispered Anne as she was pushed into the room, “and I thought we’d be safe here, they’ve never raided this far upriver before.” The children clustered behind her. Ruth hid her little face in the folds of her mother’s nightdress.
“I don’t think so,” he whispered back, “these men don’t look or act like what we’ve heard of the pirates. They act and talk like soldiers and I think that’s exactly what they are, soldiers from the South. Their voices drawl, like Jess’s friend Beth.”
“Why have they come here?” asked Anne, “are they slavers? Are we to become slaves?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is this them all?” asked the ‘velvet’ man.
“An old lady in the back room downstairs,” answered one.
“My mother-in-law, please don’t hurt her, she is old and very frail,” pleaded David.
“We was ordered to take them all,” warned the man who had answered, glancing at his superior.
“An old woman is of no use to us, lock her in the room and tie her up.”
“I could …” the man made a gesture of running his knife across his throat.
Anne gasped in horror. Annette burst into a fresh flood of tears and began to tremble.
“No,” the elegant man commanded, “I’m not in the business of killing old women for no reason.”
The man left, muttering darkly to himself about ‘noble fools’. Only David heard him and it confirmed his suspicions that the marauders were not pirates but were here for some nefarious purpose of their own.
The ‘velvet’ man pointed at Anne.
“You, you go upstairs and gather up outdoor clo
thing for you all, boots and heavy cloaks if you have them. Hurry now.”
Once they were attired, outdoor clothes on top of their night garments, the men tied all but little Ruth’s hands behind their backs.
“She’s too young to cause any trouble,” the noble leader said and told her to stay beside her mother.
Ruth’s frightened face nodded assent.
He then looked at the family.
“We are going for a short walk,” he informed them, “no harm will come to you.”
“Until we reach the slave holds on your ship,” growled David in an ominous and quiet voice, trying to surprise him into revealing just exactly why he was here.
The ‘velvet’ man laughed.
“I’m not one of the slaver scum,” he said with a short smile. “I am an honourable man, doing my Duke’s bidding.”
“Honourable? Kidnapping an innocent family?" scoffed David.
“I am a loyal vassal of my Duke who is desirous to make your acquaintance. It is unfortunate that it has to be this way.”
“What Duke? We don’t know any Dukes. We’re simple farmers.” said Anne.
“Enough questions,” he said, “time to go.”
They were hustled out of the farmhouse and into the dark night.
The events of the next two bells the family never wanted to experience again, hustled as they were out of their home and led towards the river. They were not permitted to talk. One of the men carried little Ruth as they struggled through the rain, stumbling over the uneven ground. The little girl was sobbing fit to burst, one damp hand clutching tight to her favourite dolly, a battered individual handed down from Jess (when most of the damage occurred) and Annette.
Where were these men taking them and why? If the ‘velvet’ man was to be believed and they were not slavers but agents of their Duke, what did he want with them all? What is so important about my family that would make this Duke go to all the trouble to kidnap us? Why?
When they reached the river’s edge they were helped into a small rowing boat. David realised that it was sitting extremely low in the water and he heard the leader telling the men to take care.
“Don’t want a capsize,” he said, “water’s too dammed cold.”
The only sound was the oars dipping into the water and the occasional grunts of effort from the men as they oared the laden craft downriver towards the sea.
A ship loomed out of the darkness, creaking eerily with the slow ebb and flow of the estuary tides.
For David Crawford this was confirmation that they could not possibly be slavers. This ship was a merchantman, not a galley.
Their hands were untied as the boat bumped against the ship’s side and was made fast. They were ordered through the sally port, the ‘velvet’ man carried Ruth aboard with a gentleness that surprised David. Now they had reached the ship his face became relaxed, genial even.
The Captain met them on the deck and gave a sharp jerk of a bow that only confused the family even more. They were then escorted, not into the ship’s hold as they had expected but to a cabin at the rear of the vessel where six makeshift cots had been set up.
“Six cots?” queried Anne.
“I assume Jessica was supposed to be here as well,” David surmised. He had realised that their abduction must have been long in the planning.
“Did you recognise any of the men?”
“No I didn’t, nor would I have expected to my love. How many men of the South have you met? They are definitely not slavers; if they had been they certainly wouldn’t have housed us here, the ship’s hold more like. No, I think he was telling the truth when he said we have been taken on his Duke’s orders.”
“But why David, why?”
They listened to the muted shouts from the deck and sounds of sailors moving around.
“Sounds as if we are on our way, the tide must have turned,” announced David, sitting down on one of the cots.
“It’s beginning to get light,” replied Anne, looking out of the stern window.
David snuffed out the safety lamp.
“I think,” he added, “that we have been housed in the Captain’s own quarters.”
“Did you notice him when we arrived?” asked Anne.
“The Captain? No, not particularly, why?”
“It was as if he didn’t know how to treat us.”
“He never said a word.”
“He didn’t need to. He treated us as if we were important. He was almost deferential.”
“How can you be almost deferential?” he teased. “We’ll learn more once we’re at sea I’m sure. Lie down and get some rest.”
Anne nodded and lay down on one of the empty cots.
The Captain was on deck supervising his ship’s negotiation of the narrow estuary.
The Arrowhawk was his own ship and although he was being paid well for his trouble he was a curious man and could not help but wonder what was so special about this family.
The family had not uttered a single word when they had arrived which was strange in itself and now they had been secreted away in his own cabin with a guard on the door. His other passengers, those who had accompanied the Count on their excursion were resting in an adjoining cabin.
Why this secrecy? He shook his head.
Count Charles Cocteau knew that the Captain had many questions and invited him into his own slip of a cabin (vacated by the Master’s Mate for the duration of the voyage) as soon as he had broken his fast early the next morning.
By now the ship was well on her way south.
He sat elegantly on the bunk like the scion of the noble house he was.
“It is time to tell you some more about the task in which it is your good fortune to be a part,” he began, “and may I remind you, you are being paid for your trouble and for your silence.”
“I understand,” answered the Captain.
“Our passengers are important people, very important people.”
“I had gathered that but why all the secrecy?”
“It is a matter of inheritance and it is imperative that it is kept a secret. After we disembark you will set sail immediately for the islands and stay there for the next six months. You will not return either to Vadath, Argyll or Murdoch until that time has passed.”
“But ...”
“I am empowered by My Liege Duke to pay you extra for this disappearance and if you break the agreement, well, we have ways of finding out such things and steps will be taken to ensure, shall we say, a more permanent silence.”
The Captain understood, or thought he did. He assumed that the Dukes of Murdoch were yet again plotting against each other and that this silent family was central to their plans in some way. He did not wish to get involved in what might well turn into another civil war.
“I will do as you say,” he said, “the coin?”
“When we dock. You will treat the family with respect during what remains of the voyage but you will not speak to them and you will instruct your crew to do likewise. My own men will take them their meals. The family may come on deck under guard but you and your men will avoid them at all times.”
The Captain agreed to this also.
Count Charles sat back.
“That is all.”
It was a dismissal.
The Captain returned to his duties a richer, if not a much wiser, man.
On the few occasions when the family were permitted on deck for some fresh air, he watched but saw nothing that marked them out as anything special. If he had met them under different circumstances he would have concluded that they were an ordinary farming family, more prosperous than some and not as rich as others, which was in fact what David, Anne and their children were.
It was dark when the merchantman reached Port Duchesne.
The family had been instructed by Count Charles (he had not introduced himself by name and had refused, despite David’s pleas, to tell them anything more) not to undress, as they would be disembarking as soon as they arrive
d.
“Not that we have anything to change into,” Anne complained, “I would have preferred to face whatever is going to happen in clean clothes at least.”
“That will not be a problem My Lady,” Charles answered, “I have been assured that hot baths and a change of clothing will be available once we reach our destination.”
“You are the very soul of courtesy,” replied an acerbic Anne (she had noticed that their abductor had changed into superfine clothing of a dark silken material) as she tried to bring some order to little Ruth’s untidy hair, like the missing Jessica, the toddler had a short curly mop of hair and it needed constant attention to keep it in order. Anne was trying hard not to think about her eldest daughter.
They felt the ship dock, heard the hawsers being made fast and the shouts of the men.
The ‘velvet’ man bowed very deep in Anne’s direction as they were ushered on to the deck. David started and Anne gasped. Before this he had acknowledged her with a polite incline of his head although he had always been scrupulously polite.
“I am Count Charles Cocteau,” he said. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Murdoch. I am sorry that your journey was on the uncomfortable side but it was necessary and if the situation had been different, you would have made your journey in more opulent surroundings,” he managed to convey regret, “we will provide you with every comfort now.”
“Well,” said Anne in an aside to David, “what does that all mean?”
“I don’t understand either Mummy,” said Annette who had been listening.
“A carriage awaits to transport you to the castle. I must ask you to remain silent.”
“So our arrival, like our passage is a great secret?” asked David. He did not get an answer.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” said Anne, “it is as if impending doom is hanging over us all. I am very scared David.”
“I don’t think we are in any immediate danger,” he tried to reassure her.