‘What’s going on? Who are your friends, why are they following us?’ An even greater question rose onto Matthew’s tongue. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name has not changed, but today I am more than a magician, I am a messenger – just as in Australia I was both magician and searcher. I went only to find you.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Mattheus Coperneau disappeared many years ago and we have been looking for him ever since. We thought he must surely be dead, but we wanted what he left behind. We scanned the world, read newspapers from across the globe.’
‘The article in the paper!’ said Matt.
Genardi nodded. ‘Just a few lines, but enough for us to know we had found him at last. And, of course, there were those words he wrote so many times, but which we never heard about until he died. Only the heart knows. It had to be him, and the boy with him when he died had to know more than he told the reporter. We were right, weren’t we? It was you, despite the false name you gave.’
Things suddenly made sense. ‘The autographs. You only signed autographs for kids. You were looking for Tony Matthews!’
‘And I found him, at the magic competition.’
Matt didn’t know which emotion had the greater hold over him: fear or fury. ‘You’re crazy. As soon as Grandad gets here, he’ll call the police.’
‘That will do you no good. I have a worldwide reputation. I will say you are a boy who invents fantasies because he envies my talents and the police will believe me. After all, you are perfectly safe, nothing has happened to you.’
Matt saw immediately how clever the magician had been. Everything he said was true and, despite his anger, Matt couldn’t think of a way to fight back. Genardi knew as much. He smiled like a man who has the upper hand.
‘Going to the police will land you both in twice the trouble anyway,’ he said. ‘You are the descendants of Mattheus Coperneau, the most hated man in Montilagus, the man who stole the Royal Sceptre and continues to make trouble for the Mahling family today. How will it look when the police discover members of his family have come back under a false name? Worse still, one of you has tricked the Princess into trusting him.’
That was a slam in the guts for Matt. His friendship with Catine had brought fun and the tantalising hope that he might clear his family’s name. Now Genardi was using it against him. And the magician wasn’t finished, not by a long way. In case Matt was in any doubt, he continued to paint the unfortunate scene.
‘It will look like you have come to take the sceptre from its hiding place after all these years. Rumours will fly, especially if my friends start them. Coperneau’s son has come back to retrieve the sceptre from where it was hidden by his father. He plans to sell the precious symbol of power to a private collector for millions of dollars. The newspapers, the police, the royal family – all will believe it.’
This was more terrible than Matt had imagined. Once Genardi’s lies were spread, not even the Princess could help him. And that was assuming she’d want to. She might well believe the lies and turn against him too.
‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked meekly.
Genardi leaned back in his chair, his smile one of triumph now. ‘You will deliver to us the secret that so many have looked for.’
‘But I can’t. Mattheus didn’t tell me how the sceptre disappeared. He didn’t know himself, so how could –’
‘Enough!’ snapped the Maestro. ‘We are not interested in the sceptre. A stick of gold and gemstones – it is nothing to us. We want what alchemists have searched for through the ages and you will give it to us at last.’
‘What are you talking about? Mattheus wasn’t an alchemist!’
‘Wasn’t he? Coperneau had powers beyond anything an ordinary magician could do. In his heart he carried the gift of real magic. That was what he wrote in his notebook. Only the heart knows. That was his motto, his secret boast. It was all part of a game he played – and you have become part of it. You gave yourself away when you began your own act with words just like it. Mattheus would not have let the secret die with him. He told you where to find the formula, the instructions for how to turn lead into gold – a fortune for the taking. My friends and I will have it at last.’
‘The Practicum,’ Matt said. You’re one of them, like Walter Borrodi.’
‘Borrodi! That old fool wasn’t one of us. He was a second-rate magician who wanted to steal Coperneau’s tricks, when the real prize was his gift for sorcery. Mattheus made the Royal Sceptre vanish into thin air. What greater proof could there be of what he’d discovered? The sceptre has never been found and it never will be, because Mattheus Coperneau knew how to transform one material into another with magic alone.’
‘No, that’s impossible. Magic is tricks and illusion. Ask Mr Crank.’
‘Crank is a fairground conjuror without the sense to dream of more. You are something different though, aren’t you, Matthew? You are special and that is why your grandfather has brought you to Montilagus. Oh, play the tourist all you like. It is part of the plan, so that no one gives you a second glance when you take the secret from its hiding place.’
Matt felt bruised, as though each of the Maestro’s words had been a fist. It was a wonder he could think at all. He heard himself say, ‘The notebook. If Mattheus had any secrets to pass on they would have been in that, but we don’t have it any more. It was stolen from our house.’
Genardi opened his jacket and, to Matt’s astonishment, took the notebook from a pocket inside.
‘Useless,’ he snarled, tossing it onto the coffee table between them. ‘We have read every word, looked for every possible code. It is filled with tricks and nothing else.’
Despite his fear and confusion, Matt was relieved to see the notebook. He was just as pleased to hear there was no alchemy in its pages. Reaching for it, he opened it to the inscription written across the first page. He’d explained its meaning to Princess Catine. The only way out of this nightmare was to convince the Maestro of its meaning too. But when he looked into the eyes of Genardi Kallinar, he saw only greed and a touch of madness. He would be wasting his breath. He needed proof, not pleas.
‘On the day Mattheus died, he had a tin with him,’ Matt said. ‘It was full of all sorts of stuff.’
‘Where is it?’ Genardi demanded.
‘In my room.’
He led Genardi up to his bedroom and took the tin from his suitcase. Genardi snatched it out of his hands and tore off the lid.
‘Ah, you see. Here is more proof,’ he cried, holding up the newspaper clippings about alchemy. ‘Silver and gold. Yes, he’d found the secret. There can be no doubt. You won’t fool me, boy.’
Matt groaned silently. He’d hoped to show that Mattheus was simply a magician, but the articles he’d collected when he’d been researching possible suspects in the theft of the sceptre only made it seem more likely that he’d been an alchemist too.
‘You have yet to retrieve the secret from its hiding place or you would have hurried back to Australia by now. Go ahead with your plans. Locate what you have come for and then you will hand it over to me. Do I need to explain what will happen if you don’t?’ The sharp edge to his voice was like a knife suddenly pulled from his pocket.
Matt shook his head.
‘Then I have delivered my message. You will be watched, both of you, and this time you won’t know who has their eyes on you – even in the Palace, for we have eyes there too. When you have found what we want, wear that cap with the kangaroo on the front.’ He pointed to Matt’s favourite cap in the suitcase. ‘Only when we have it will you and your grandfather be safe to go home.’
13
The Face Inside the Circle
Matt couldn’t remember the Maestro leaving. He remained slumped on the edge of his bed until the doorbell below announced his grandfather’s return.
Mr Cooper sat chatting about his day in Frau Grossen’s parlour and Matt had to play his part without giving away any of his fear
or confusion. Grandad wanted to know about his adventures in the Palace with a real princess. Somehow, Matt managed to keep a smile on his face as he spoke of his day but what he desperately wanted to do was pour out the whole story of the Maestro’s visit.
‘It’s a shame Mr Kallinar couldn’t stay until I came back,’ said Grandad after Fran Grossen mentioned the magician’s visit.
Tell him the rest! Go to the police! a voice inside Matt shouted. But maybe Genardi was right – they would look like criminals who’d entered the country under false pretences.
The only sure thing Matt knew was that he couldn’t give the Maestro what he demanded. Real magic was a myth, and the secret of the alchemists he craved was no more than a dream for sad men who didn’t want to accept the truth. And those men were everywhere, it seemed – even in the Palace, according to Genardi Kallinar.
When Matt and his grandfather went to a restaurant for dinner, Matt stared suspiciously at every face in the street and every diner at the nearby tables.
When they’d returned to Frau Grossen’s and Matt was once again in his own room, he picked up the photographs that the Maestro had tossed to the floor. He returned them to the biscuit tin and was about to seal the lid when his hands suddenly stopped.
He picked out the top photo and sat on his bed studying the group of men and women, some in servants’ uniforms, others in suits or dark dresses, all lined up like a class photo. Mattheus had drawn a circle around one of the faces.
‘What’s so interesting?’ asked his grandfather when he came to say goodnight.
‘Oh, nothing. I think I saw this man at the Palace today, that’s all.’
Grandad took the picture from his hands and turned it over. ‘What’s this written on the back?’
Matt checked the graceful handwriting for himself – Palatine Servicio, Montilagus – then stared at the face again.
‘That’s amazing,’ he said. ‘Looks just like him.’
He looked up, wondering what he should say to his grandfather, but he’d gone. Rather than go after him, Matt decided to show Catine instead and see what she made of the face in the photo.
When the limousine called for Matt the next morning, he took the notebook and the biscuit tin with him. Inside the tin lay the photo that held his slim hopes of a breakthrough. Yesterday, he and Catine had searched the Palace as a kind of game. Now, the game had turned serious and the only way Matt could get his grandfather and himself out of trouble was to find the sceptre. Then the police would have no reason to arrest them and Genardi’s blackmail would vanish like coins in a magician’s hands. A thought came to him – at home in Sydney, he had proudly claimed his great-grandfather’s name. Somehow, in Montilagus, he had taken on more than his name, he had taken on his crime as well. How could things get so crazy?
He had only one clue and, as soon as Catine led him to what she’d called the playroom, he put it to use. ‘Is your tutor here today?’
Catine smiled and nodded towards Helvar who was watching from the doorway. ‘He’s going to hang around again to make your visit look educational, like yesterday.’
‘Good,’ Matt said. ‘I brought Mattheus’s tin with me, like I promised, and there’s something in it that he has to explain.’
‘Helvar? How can he help us?’ asked Catine, clearly puzzled.
Matt pulled off the tin’s lid and passed her the photo. ‘There are some words on the back. Can you tell me what they say?’
She flipped it over and read them out in English. ‘Palace Staff, Montilagus.’
‘I thought it’d be something like that. Do you recognise the face in that circle?’
Catine checked the face, then her gasp filled the room. ‘Helvar, that’s you!’
By the time the Princess spoke to him, the tutor was already close enough to reach for the photograph.
‘May I, Your Highness?’ he said with perfect manners. When she passed it to him he looked at the circled face while Matt watched Helvar’s for his reaction. And there was definitely a reaction; the blood had drained from Helvar’s cheeks.
‘You have to admit he looks just like you,’ said Matt.
‘Yes … a resemblance … it does look like me.’ Helvar appeared to scratch around for an explanation but couldn’t come up with one. ‘Quite a coincidence,’ was all he managed.
Matt was certain he was on to something. ‘Mattheus wanted to know who really had taken the sceptre. He collected research on his suspects in this tin and that photo was inside, with a circle around your face. It can’t be a coincidence. There has to be some connection.’
‘My face?’ said Helvar. His ghost-white skin was regaining its colour as he passed the photograph back to Catine. ‘Your Highness, is there another face you recognise in that picture, in the centre of the front row, perhaps?’
Catine took only moments to respond. ‘That’s Edvord, my great-grandfather. I’ve seen pictures of him all over the Palace.’
‘And when did Prince Edvord die?’ asked Helvar in the confident voice of a man who already knew the answer.
While Catine considered it, Matt began to see the photograph with different eyes. It was black and white and its edges were frayed. It must have lain inside Mattheus’s tin for many years.
‘He died the same year the sceptre went missing,’ said Catine. ‘That was 1946.’
‘1946,’ Helvar repeated. ‘Then how old would the man in that circle be now?’
Matt couldn’t get his brain to work. He was still chasing numbers around like jelly on a plate when Catine answered, ‘Maybe ninety.’
Helvar held his arms out wide, inviting them to look him over. ‘Not doing too badly for a ninety-year-old, am I? No grey hair, barely a wrinkle. You’re the magician among us, Mr Cooper. Can you explain such magic?’
Matt heard Mr Crank in his ear. Magic isn’t real, it’s deception and illusion. ‘You’re not the man in the picture,’ he conceded.
Helvar seemed pleased to hear him admit it. ‘Perhaps there is a connection, though,’ he said, as though he didn’t want Matt to feel like a fool. ‘My family left Montilagus long before I was born, but distant cousins remained. The man circled in that photo might have been one of them. That could explain the resemblance, don’t you think?’
Yes, it could, thought Matt, but it wasn’t the close connection he’d been hoping for. ‘Did your family members stay in touch, write letters, that sort of thing?’
‘No, my family all has wanderlust in its feet.’
‘Wanderlust. What’s that?’ Matt asked. He liked the sound of the word, even though he hadn’t heard it before.
‘It means you never stay in one place for long,’ said Catine. ‘Even if that man in the photo had something to do with the sceptre, Helvar wouldn’t know any more than we do.’
Matt’s only clue had faded to nothing. When he fell into silent dejection, Helvar spoke again.
‘Forgive me, I heard your story in the gallery two days ago, Mr Cooper, but I didn’t hear what happened to Mattheus, once he left Montilagus.’
Matt glanced at Catine and with signs rather than words asked what he should do.
‘Tell him,’ Catine said. ‘It’s not like we’ve got much of an idea where to search, is it?’
Unfortunately that was true, so Matt retold the sad story of Mattheus writing his message in chalk on the footpaths of Sydney, not knowing that his beloved Carrida was already dead.
‘I am sorry, very sorry, to hear this,’ said Helvar when the story was finished. ‘The poor man lived all those years without love.’
‘Yes. I suppose he’d grown too old to find anyone else by then.’
‘Grown too old,’ Helvar repeated. ‘Age is a curse, that’s true enough. A tragic tale. It seems your Mattheus paid a high price for a man who had done nothing wrong.’
Matt was surprised at the way Helvar believed the story without question. All through the telling, Helvar’s right hand had kept crossing nervously to his left to adjust a ring on his little f
inger. Matt couldn’t help feeling Helvar knew more about the sceptre than he was letting on.
14
No Longer a Game
‘Where will we begin the search today?’ Matt asked Catine. ‘Is there a part of the Palace the police didn’t check with all their new machines?’
Catine sighed and shook her head. ‘I’ve been thinking about that since you left yesterday. I can’t help feeling we’re wasting our time. I mean, sure, yesterday was fun, but it was a game really, wasn’t it?’
The same thing had occurred to Matt, even before Genardi’s visit. Now, with the Maestro’s threats like hands tightening around his neck, it wasn’t a game any more. He couldn’t mention Genardi to Catine, but he soon discovered things had become more serious for her as well.
‘Last night I heard my father talking to Mother and Mikheil,’ she said. ‘The crisis is getting worse. Olivar Delano arrives in Montilagus tomorrow and if the people all gather at the station to welcome him, he might be proclaimed the new Prince by tomorrow afternoon. He has powerful men behind him. All they care about are the riches they can squeeze out of the country. It will be awful for Montilagus. We have to find that sceptre.’
‘It disappeared in the Great Hall. That has to be our starting place,’ said Matt.
Catine didn’t have a better suggestion, so she set off in the lead, walking briskly as usual. In a corridor, they came across a tour group like the one Matt had been part of when he’d first met the Princess. The guide bowed. When the people around him guessed who was walking by, the men stood to attention and one of the women curtsied, which made it seem that they were paying their respects to Matt as well.
‘How does it feel to be Prince Matthew?’ Catine laughed, then she dug her elbow into his ribs as though they were two little boys playing in the backyard.
Matt wished he could share in her lightness of spirit, but he couldn’t get Genardi’s threats out of his mind.
In the Great Hall, they tried to work out exactly where the sceptre would have been.
Disappearing Act Page 11