I stood and went to the landing, peering over the balcony to the entrance hall below. The only noise was the distant sounds of unrest from the street outside, but the light was dimming now; it had begun to get dark outside and I’d need to light some candles. First, though, to rid myself of my unwanted guests.
The one sleeping by the door seemed to rouse a little as I approached the foot of the stairs.
‘If you’re awake then I suggest you leave now,’ I said, and my voice sounded loud in the entrance hall. ‘And if you’re not awake then I’m going to kick you in the balls until you are.’
He tried to lift his head, blinking as though regaining consciousness and trying to remember where he was and how he’d got here. He had one arm trapped beneath himself and he groaned as he rolled to free it.
And then he got up and closed the door.
Just like that. He got up and closed the door.
vi.
It took me a second or so to work out the question. The question being: how did a man who had been lying drunk on my entrance-hall floor stand up, with not a trace of a sway or swagger, and close the door without so much as a fumble or swipe? How did he do that?
The answer being that he wasn’t drunk. He never had been. And what he had beneath himself was a pistol that he raised, with an almost casual air, and pointed at me.
Shit.
I swung round in time to see that the second drunk guy had also miraculously sobered up and was on his feet. He too had a pistol that was pointed at me. I was trapped.
‘The Carrolls of London say hello,’ said the first drunk, the older and more barrel-chested of the two, obviously the boss, and I was hit with the blank fact of the inevitable. We knew the Carrolls would come for us, sooner or later. Be ready, we’d said, and maybe we thought we were ready.
‘So what are you waiting for then?’ I asked.
‘The instructions are that you’re to suffer before you die,’ said the boss evenly and without real malice. ‘Plus the bounty is for you, a certain Frederick Weatherall and your lady’s maid, Hélène. We thought that extracting their whereabouts and causing you to suffer might well be combined, a sort of killing-two-birds-with-one-stone arrangement.’
I smiled back at him. ‘You can cause me as much pain as you like, cause me all the pain in the world, I won’t tell you.’
From behind me, his friend made an ‘Aw’ sound. The kind of sound you make when you see a particularly appealing puppy playing with a ball.
The boss inclined his head. ‘He’s laughing because they all say that. Everyone we’ve ever tortured says it. It’s around the time we introduce the hungry rats that they begin to doubt the wisdom of their words.’
I looked theatrically around me, turned back to him and smiled. ‘I don’t see any hungry rats.’
‘Well, that’s because we haven’t started yet. It’s a long old process what we have in mind. Mrs Carroll was very specific about that.’
‘She still angry about May, is she?’
‘She did say to remind you about May during the process. That’s her daughter, I assume.’
‘Was, yes.’
‘And you killed her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Had it coming, did she?’
‘I would say she did, yes. She was about to kill me.’
‘Self-defence then?’
‘You might say that. Does knowing that change your mind at all?’
He grinned. The pistol never wavered. ‘No. It just tells me you’re a tricky one and I’ll need to watch you. So why don’t we start with the sword and the pistol? Drop them both on the floor, if you would.’
I did as I was told.
‘Now step away from them. Turn, face the banister, put your hands on your head and know that while Mr Hook here is checking you for concealed weapons I’ll be covering him with the pistols. I’d like you to remember that Mr Hook and I are aware of your capabilities, Miss de la Serre. We haven’t made the mistake of underestimating you because you’re young and female. Isn’t that right, Mr Hook?’
‘That’s right, Mr Harvey,’ said Hook.
‘That’s reassuring to know,’ I said, and with a glance towards Mr Hook, I did as I was told, moving to the banister and putting my hands to my head.
The light was dim in the entrance hall, and though my two genial killers would have taken that into account, it was still in my favour.
Something else I had in my favour: I had nothing to lose.
Hook was behind me now. He moved my weapons into the middle of the hall before returning, staying a few feet away. ‘Remove your jacket,’ he said.
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘You heard the man,’ said Mr Harvey. ‘Remove your jacket.’
‘I’ll have to take my hands off my head.’
‘Just take off the jacket.’
I unbuttoned it and shrugged it to the floor.
In the room was a dense silence. Mr Hook’s eyes roamed over me. ‘Untuck your shirt,’ said Mr Harvey.
‘You’re not going to make me …?’
‘Just untuck the shirt and gather it at the waist so we can see the waistband.’
I did as I was asked.
‘Now remove your boots.’
I knelt, straight away thinking I could use a boot as a weapon. But no. As soon as I attacked Hook, Harvey would plug me with the pistol. I needed a different tactic.
With the boots off I stood in my stockinged feet, shirt untucked for inspection.
‘Right,’ said Harvey. ‘Turn round. Hands back on your head. Remember what I said about having you covered.’
I resumed my position facing the banister as Hook came up behind me. He knelt, his hands reached to my feet and his hands began a journey from the tips of my toes up my breeches. At the top, they lingered …
‘Hook …’ warned Harvey.
‘Got to be thorough,’ said Hook, and I could tell from the direction of his voice that he was looking towards Harvey as he said it, which gave me a chance. A tiny chance, but a chance all the same. And I took it.
I jumped, grabbed a banister strut, and in the same movement gripped Hook’s neck between my thighs and twisted. I twisted hard, trying to break his neck at the same time, but breaking men’s necks in a scissor hold was never a major part of Mr Weatherall’s training and I didn’t have the strength to wrench his neck hard enough. Even so, he was now between me and the pistol, which was my first objective. His face reddened, his hands at my thighs trying to free himself as I squeezed, hoping I might be able to exert enough pressure to black him out.
No such luck. He writhed and pulled and I clung on to the strut for dear life, feeling my body lengthen and the wood begin to give way as he tried to pull away. Harvey, meanwhile, cursed, holstered his pistol and drew a short sword.
With a shout of effort I increased the pressure of my thighs and jerked upwards at the same time. The banister splintered and came off in my hands as I flipped upright and for a second was riding Hook like a girl on her daddy’s shoulders, looking down upon a suddenly astonished Harvey, the strut held high.
It swept down. I plunged it into Harvey’s face.
What bits of the banister strut went into what bits of Harvey’s face, I couldn’t say for sure, and don’t particularly want to know.
All I can tell you is that I aimed for an eye, and though the strut was too thick to penetrate the socket, well, it did the job, because one moment he was advancing on us with his short sword ready to attack, the next he had an eye full of banister strut and was wheeling off, his hands at his face, filling the final seconds of his life with bloodcurdling screams.
With a twist of my hips I brought myself and Hook crashing to the floor. We landed badly but I pulled myself away, throwing myself bodily towards my sword and pistol in the centre of the floor. My pistol was primed and ready, but then so was Hook’s. All I could do was dive for my gun and pray I reached it before he recovered enough to reach for his.
I got there,
whirled on to my back and held it two-handed on him – at exactly the same time as he did the same. For the briefest second we both had the drop on one another.
And then the door opened, a voice said, ‘Élise,’ and Hook flinched. So I fired.
There was perhaps half a second during which I thought I’d missed Hook entirely, before blood began gushing from his lips, his head dropped and I realized I’d shot him through the mouth.
vii.
‘It looks like I arrived just in time,’ Ruddock said later, after we had carried the bodies of Hook and Harvey out through the rear courtyard and into the street where we left them among the broken crates and barrels and upturned carts. Inside we found a bottle of wine in the pantry, lit candles and sat in the housekeeper’s study where we could keep an eye on the back stairs, just in case anybody returned.
I poured us a glass each and pushed one across the table to him. It went without saying that he looked much healthier than he had the last time we met, since he’d been swinging on the end of a rope back then, but even taking that into account he had recovered a bearing, too. He looked more self-possessed. For the first time since our meeting in ’75, I could imagine Ruddock as an Assassin.
‘What did they want, your two friends?’ he asked.
‘To exact revenge on behalf of a third party.’
‘I see. You’ve upset someone, have you?’
‘Well, obviously.’
‘Yes, quite. I suspect you do your fair share of upsetting people, do you? As I say, it was lucky I arrived in time.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself. I had it covered,’ I said, sipping my wine.
‘Well, then I’m very pleased to hear it,’ he said. ‘Only it looked to me as though it could have gone either way, and that my entrance gave you the element of surprise you needed in order to gain the advantage.’
‘Don’t push your luck, Ruddock,’ I said.
The truth was that I was amazed to see him at all. But whether he’d taken my threat to hunt him down seriously or he was a more honourable man than I’d taken him for, the fact was he had come. Not just that, but he’d come with what you might call ‘news’.
‘You’ve found something?’
‘Indeed I have.’
‘The identity of the man who hired you to kill me and my mother?’
He looked abashed and cleared his throat. ‘I was only hired to kill your mother, you know. Not you.’
I fought a wave of unreality. Sitting in my family’s wrecked villa, sharing wine with a man who openly admitted trying to kill my mother, who, if all had gone to plan, would no doubt have left me alone and crying over her body.
I poured more wine, choosing to drink, don’t think, because if I thought then maybe I might wonder how I got to be so numb that I could drink with this man, that I could think of Arno and feel no emotion, how I could cheat death and feel nothing.
Ruddock continued. ‘And the fact is I don’t know exactly who it was who hired me, but I do know to whom he was affiliated.’
‘And who might that be?’
‘Have you ever heard of the King of Beggars?’
‘No, I can’t say that I have – but that is the person to whom your man is affiliated?’
‘As far as I can tell, it was the King of Beggars who wanted your mother dead.’
That strange wave of unreality again. Hearing it from the man who was hired to carry out the job.
‘The question is why,’ I said, taking a gulp of wine.
‘Steady on,’ he said, and reached to touch a hand to my arm. I stopped, the beaker still held to my lips, glaring at his hand until he took it back.
‘Don’t touch me again,’ I said, ‘ever.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. His eyes dropped. ‘I meant no offence. It’s just that – you seem to be drinking too swiftly, that’s all.’
‘Haven’t you heard the rumours?’ I said ironically, ‘I’m a drunk of some repute. And I can quite handle my wine, thank you.’
‘I only want to help, mademoiselle,’ he said. ‘It’s the least I can do. By saving my life you’ve given me a new outlook. I am trying to make something of myself now.’
‘I’m pleased for you. But if I thought that saving your life meant you were going to lecture me about the wine I was drinking, then I wouldn’t have bothered.’
He nodded. ‘Again, I’m sorry.’
I took another gulp of wine, just to spite him. ‘Now tell me what you know about the King of Beggars.’
‘That he is a difficult man to find. The Assassins have tried to kill him in the past.’
I cocked an eyebrow. ‘You were working for a sworn enemy of the Assassins? I take it you’ll be keeping that fact quiet?’
He looked ashamed. ‘Indeed. They were different, more desperate days, my lady.’
I waved that away. ‘So the Assassins have tried to kill him. Why would that be?’
‘He is cruel. He rules over the beggars in the city who are forced to pay him a tribute. It is said that if the tribute is insufficient then the King of Beggars has a man named La Touche amputate their limbs, because the good people of Paris are likely to donate more generously to a beggar deprived in such a way.’
I fought a wave of disgust. ‘For that reason Assassin and Templar would both want him dead, surely? He is a friend to no one.’ I curled my lip at him. ‘Or are you saying that only the good-hearted Assassins wanted him dead, while we black-hearted Templars turned a blind eye?’
With a studied look of sadness he said, ‘Would I be in any position to make moral judgements, my lady? But the fact is that if the Templars do turn a blind eye to his activities, it is because he is one of them.’
‘Nonsense. We would have nothing to do with such a disgusting man. My father wouldn’t have allowed him in the Order.’
Ruddock shrugged and spread his hands. ‘I’m dreadfully sorry if what I’m telling you comes as a shock, my lady. Perhaps you should not take it as a reflection on your entire Order, rather than rogue elements within it. Speaking as something of a “rogue element” myself …’
Rogue elements, I thought. Rogue elements who plotted against my mother. Were these the same people who killed my father? If so, then I was next.
‘You want to rejoin the Assassins, do you?’ I said, pouring more wine.
He nodded.
I grinned. ‘Well, look, I’ve got to say, and you’ll have to pardon my rudeness, but you did attempt to kill me once so I think I’m owed a free shot. But if you’ve got any hopes of rejoining the Assassins, you need to take care of that smell.’
‘The smell?’
‘Yes, Ruddock, the smell. Your smell. You smelled in London, you smelled in Rouen and you smell now. Perhaps a bath might be in order? Some perfume? Now, is that rude?’
He smiled. ‘Not at all, mademoiselle, I appreciate your candour.’
‘Why you’d want to rejoin the Assassins is beyond me anyway.’
‘Begging your pardon, mademoiselle?’
I leaned forward, squinting at him and waggling the beaker of wine at the same time. ‘I mean I’d think very carefully about that if I were you.’
‘What can you mean?’
I waved an airy hand. ‘I mean that you’re out of it. Well out of it. Free of all that –’ I waved a hand again – ‘stuff. Assassin. Templar. Pah. They’ve got enough dogma for ten thousand churches and twice as much misguided belief. For centuries they’ve done nothing but squabble, and to what end, eh? Mankind carries on regardless. Look at France. My father and his advisors spent years arguing over the “best” direction for the country and in the end the revolution went ahead and happened without them anyway. Ha! Where was Mirabeau when they stormed the Bastille? Still taking votes on tennis courts? The Assassins and Templars are like two ticks fighting over control of the cat, an exercise in hubris and futility.’
‘But, mademoiselle, whatever the eventual outcome we have to believe we have the capacity to effect change for the better.’
viii.
After I had dismissed Ruddock, I decided I would be ready for them if they came, whoever they were: looting revolutionaries, agents of the Carrolls, a traitor from my own Order. I would be ready for them.
Luckily there is more than enough wine in the house to fortify me for the wait.
25 July 1789
It was daylight when they came. They stole into the courtyard, the noise of their footfalls reaching me where I waited in the darkened, boarded-up hall, a pistol at hand.
I, who had waited, was ready for them. And as they climbed the steps to the door that I had deliberately left ajar, just as I did every day, I reached for the pistol, pulled back the hammer and raised it.
The door creaked. A shadow fell into a rectangle of sunlight on the floorboards and lengthened across the floor as a figure crossed the threshold and came into the gloom of my home.
‘Élise,’ he said, and dimly I realized that it was a long, long time since I had heard another human voice, and how sweet the sound of it was. And what bliss that the voice should belong to him.
Then I remembered that he could have saved my father, and didn’t, and that he had fallen in with the Assassins. And, now I came to think of it, perhaps those two facts were connected? And even if they weren’t …
I lit a lamp, still holding the gun on him, pleased to see him jump slightly as the flame blazed into life. For some moments the two of us simply regarded one another, faces conveying nothing, until he nodded, indicating the pistol.
‘That’s some welcome.’
I softened a little to see his face. Just a little. ‘One can’t be too careful. Not after what happened.’
‘Élise, I …’
‘Haven’t you done enough to repay my father’s kindness?’ I said sharply.
‘Élise, please. You can’t believe I killed Monsieur de la Serre. Your father … he wasn’t the man you thought he was. Neither of our fathers was.’
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