The Prisoner of Silverwood Castle

by Marie Treanor

  Warm pleasure seeped through my skin. I laid my arms over his, chains and all. I knew that if and when he ever became duke, he’d marry someone quite different. We barely knew each other—which made the recent debauchery all the more reprehensible, I supposed. He probably felt he should propose marriage after what we’d done, and I was determined not to take it too seriously. But, insidiously, I liked his proposal. It was a sweet fantasy, and I was happy to join in for now.

  “Maybe I would,” I agreed.

  His head bent nearer as if he was trying to see my expression. His hair brushed against my face. “You don’t mind about the madness?”

  I turned my head to look at him. Impulsively, I touched his cheek. “I don’t think you’re mad at all. Or not very. But no, I don’t mind.” I didn’t. There was something very appealing about his oddness. I’d never met anyone remotely like him.

  “I’ve sat still here too long,” he said. “You give me reason to make things happen.”

  “You mustn’t let Leopold kill you,” I said anxiously. “You need to get away from here.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ve got lots of hair pins,” I offered, picking two off the pillow. “Will they not get us out of here now?”

  He shook his head. “The lock on the door is too strong to turn with a hairpin. Or even with two twisted together. Unfortunately, Dieter will be much more careful about locking the door after I escaped last night.”

  “What happened?” I asked curiously. “How did you get back?”

  “I climbed over the wall and let Dieter find me under a hedge.”

  “You climbed it? It’s too high and smooth!”

  “It’s not really smooth, especially higher up. We used to climb it as boys. Heribert and I and others. Until my father found out.”

  I said urgently, “They don’t know about the hairpin. They think the manacles weren’t locked properly.”

  “I know,” he said, taking the other hairpins from my fingers at last. “I hid it inside the mattress.” He tugged up the rumpled sheet, straightened the pins, and pushed them through the mattress cloth. “The spares will be useful. And Dieter will relax once the court is gone.”

  “We leave tomorrow morning for Rundberg.” I scowled. “But if I’m discovered here…”

  “We must make sure you aren’t. Dieter is deaf, so if you move quickly, you have a chance. If I’m peaceful, he’ll take me downstairs, give me food, and let me read and walk about. You should probably hide under the bed until we go down. I’ll distract him to let you run past.” He frowned, another problem clearly chasing across his expressive face. “But they’ll miss you. Won’t your sister be looking for you?”

  “Maybe,” I said doubtfully. “Mostly, she doesn’t really need me. And I think the duke and the baroness want me to go home in a huff, probably before I discover your existence.” I shifted restlessly against him. “Only why then put me in a room in the old part of the castle, closer to where you are?”

  “Because the newer rooms are too comfortable for their purpose,” he said, entering into the spirit of the discussion. “You’re only just in the old castle, and they have tea to make you sleep at night. Although they obviously misjudged the dose as well as your levels of curiosity. I sleep during the day, so I’m quiet.”

  “The beast!” I said, suddenly remembering.

  “I don’t know of any beasts,” he said hastily. “Maybe a dog or a fox wandered in from outside. The echoes here are quite distorting.”

  For the first time, I seemed to have found something he didn’t want to talk about. I determined to come back to it, but the “tea” issue seemed more important.

  “What is in the tea? Are you made to drink the same thing?”

  He shrugged. “I was, before. Now, they don’t bother to disguise it. I’m not sure what it is, but it might be addictive, so I’d avoid it if I were you. Pretend to drink it, pretend to be sleepy.”

  “Is it the baroness who does all this?”

  “Baroness von Gratz?” His eyebrows rose. “If the old witch is around, then yes, it probably is her. She was my father’s mistress for years.”

  “She’s my sister’s chief lady-in-waiting.”

  “Don’t trust her.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Don’t offend her either. She’s a very dangerous woman.” His arms tightened around me. “I wish I could look after you.”

  “I wish I could look after you,” I whispered. How many years had he been kept like this? Chained and drugged and abused.

  He kissed me again, his fingers caressing my cheek, my neck, while his chains dangled against my shoulder. And when the kiss broke, he began another and another.

  “A good way to sleep,” he murmured against my lips, his eyes still closed. “and yet I don’t want to. I have things to tell you…”

  “You said I should find a Dr. Alcuin?”

  “In Rundberg. I need him to know…”

  “Know what?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. He seemed to be falling asleep.

  When I took him by the shoulders, his eyes sprang open again, and he smiled at me, as if sleepily delighted to find me still there. “There’s a tavern in Rundberg. Blue Lamp. Good place to look for him. Tell him to come… I’ll…I’ll try… Do you know you really are distractingly beautiful?”

  Although I knew I wasn’t, I liked to hear him say it, even if his eyes closed again with heavy finality.

  I eased his shoulders down until he was lying on the pillow. I don’t know how long I lay beside him, thinking, remembering. I felt no fear, or even shame. In fact, I rather thought I was happy. I smiled and ran my fingers through his thick blond hair, letting the gladness wash through me.

  Eventually, as the room dulled with the progress of the sun, I slipped off the bed and dressed myself, wrapping the shawl around my shoulders to hide where I couldn’t easily reach my fastenings.

  In time, I heard the clumping of Dieter’s feet on the stairs, and gave Kasimir a little shake. “Wake up. Kasimir, he’s coming. You have to wake up now.”

  Although he muttered something unintelligible, he didn’t open his eyes. I couldn’t wait any longer. But as I crawled under the bed, dragging the edge of his blanket towards the floor so that it would hide me, I couldn’t help wondering what state he would eventually wake up in. Would he even remember our plan? Would he think our time together had been a drug-induced dream?

  I tried not to breathe as the key scraped and ground in the lock. I could see Dieter’s large, grubby boots approach the bed, which rocked violently as Dieter shook his prisoner awake. A moment later, I heard, and felt, the violent slaps delivered to his face and head. Kasimir groaned, but the mattress above me heaved as he sat up.

  “Can I shave?” Kasimir’s voice asked indistinctly. Then, after a pause, “Why not? Because I was naughty and wandered yesterday? All right, never mind. Let’s go.”

  Two pairs of feet stood in front of me now, Dieter’s boots and Kasimir’s bare feet. Something was fastened round Kasimir’s ankles. More chains, so that he couldn’t run. And then I heard the manacles being unlocked, and the bare feet shuffled forward beside the boots. Appalled and outraged as I was by the sounds I heard as they descended the stairs, I almost forgot the plan.

  With a jolt, I scrambled out from under the bed and shook the dust off my gown as I made my way to the open door and the stairs. This was the tricky part, because Dieter would lock him in the downstairs room, and I still wouldn’t be able to escape.

  So I crept down as fast as I dared until I could see Kasimir sitting on the chair by the table, glancing through the book I’d seen there earlier. Dieter was fastening his chains to a bolt in the wall, similar to the one beside his bed.

  A single candle burned in the gloomy room, but outside it wasn’t yet dark. At the foot of the stairs, I paused, staring rather fearfu
lly at Dieter’s back. Kasimir tugged on his chain, pulling it out of his gaoler’s hand. Dieter grunted and impatiently grabbed it back.

  Kasimir looked up from his book and caught my eye. It was the tiniest instant, but my heart stood still. Then he jerked his eyes towards the door, and I fled as fast as I dared. Even as I raced down the steps, I expected to hear lumbering footsteps after me, or a cry to warn others about me.

  But I reached the empty hall unmolested and bolted into the passage leading back to my own room. Already, my adventure seemed curiously unreal.

  I returned to my room to discover someone, presumably Button, had packed everything into my trunk except my night things and a travelling dress for tomorrow. I smiled with relief, since I couldn’t actually be bothered with packing, and went to my sister’s apartments, both to thank Button and to show my face. It was almost the dinner hour and we were to dine informally in the duchess’s apartments.

  Augusta scowled at me when I strolled into the sitting room. “Where in the world have you been all day?”

  “Oh just around,” I said vaguely. Suddenly I wanted to laugh with sheer happiness. “I was tired after last night, so I found a quiet place to lie down.”

  Chapter Nine

  Silberwald’s capital city of Rundberg continued the fairy-tale image of the country—at least from a distance. As we approached, its spires and turrets gleamed at the top of the hill, a centrepiece for the picturesque city which had spread to the foot of the hill on all sides.

  Inside the city, the fairy tale disintegrated, as I discovered on my journey to the Blue Lamp tavern. I had left the palace, and the mansions of the noble and wealthy, and even the modest houses of the middle-folk far behind. Like all cities, there was squalor and poverty, but this was a large section of a small city to be taken up entirely by slum dwellings, tumbledown buildings and wooden shacks. I knew I was taking a risk coming to this part of the town, but I had no time to feel threatened.

  By the time I found the Blue Lamp, I’d almost given up looking. Until I realized this tavern had no name. It didn’t need one. A blue lantern hung above the door. A blue lamp burned in the grubby window. The whole area smelled of rubbish, rotting food, and human waste. I only hoped it was pleasanter inside the tavern.

  I stepped around the lad loitering under the street lamp and crossed the road. As I placed my hand on the door, a voice said, “Lady Guin!” in tones of total disbelief.

  Damnation! With difficulty, I prevented the unladylike exclamation spilling out of my mouth. Instead, I tried to smile as if I didn’t care I’d been discovered entering a very seedy tavern quite alone.

  “Colonel Friedrich,” I said, as if we’d met at a palace reception. I almost didn’t recognize him. I’d never seen him out of uniform before. “How are you?”

  “Worried,” he said frankly. “What in the world are you doing here? And alone!”

  “I’m looking for someone,” I said vaguely before going on the attack myself. “What brings you here?”

  “The same,” he said with a twist of his lips that might have been a smile.

  “Professionally?” I asked as casually as I could. If he’d come to arrest someone… His men could be concealed around the corner, or even inside, awaiting his orders to pounce.

  “Personally,” he said. “Lady Guin, I would really advise against entering the tavern. Let me fetch you a cab—”

  “Not yet,” I said pleasantly. “Be easy, Colonel, I don’t intend to linger.” And before he could prevent me, I pushed open the door and walked inside. At least it must have appeared that I had the escort of Colonel Friedrich. If anyone could actually see. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of stale beer and too many bodies in close proximity. It caught at my breath, threatened the stability of my stomach. With difficulty, I prevented lifting a hand to my mouth in distaste.

  A low rumble of voices, an occasional laugh drifted out of the fog. A woman in a low-cut bodice drifted out of the fug, her hands full of beer mugs.

  “Excuse me,” I hailed her in my best German.

  “What will you have, little one?” she asked comfortably, without stopping.

  Afraid of losing her, I followed. “A moment of your time, if you please. I’m looking for a Dr. Alcuin. I’m told he comes here sometimes.”

  The woman plonked the beer on a table full of rowdy workmen, who gazed at me with their mouths open.

  “Gruss Gott,” I greeted them politely.

  They replied and dropped their eyes back to their beer.

  “He’s a popular man,” the waitress said. “You want to talk to him. He’s foreign too.” She pointed to the next table, to the back of a man with dark hair, seated at a table with two young men.

  “Is that Dr. Alcuin?” I asked in surprise, for from the back at least, this person looked much younger than the venerable physician I had been imagining.

  “No, but he’s asking about him too.”

  Behind me, a harassed Colonel Friedrich caught at my elbow.

  “One moment,” I said to him. “Make your own enquiries, and I’ll meet you outside, if you wish.”

  I thanked the waitress’s disappearing back, felt my eyes widen as a male hand pinched her rear in passing. I began to see why this was not a great place for a respectable woman to be. I felt sorry for the waitress, who, however, didn’t even turn round. An occupational hazard, I could only assume.

  I approached the foreigner’s table, working my way around until I could see his face. It wasn’t comforting. Large boned, dramatic, almost ugly in a way that wasn’t unattractive, he had the hardest eyes I had ever seen. He didn’t look at all like the sort of man I should ask for help. On the other hand, I didn’t want Colonel Friedrich involved in this. Kasimir was depending on me.

  “Excuse me, sir,” I said boldly, in German, since I didn’t know where he was from. He looked up from his conversation, his eyes raking me. I couldn’t tell if he was surprised.

  “Madam,” he replied civilly enough.

  “I understand you and I are looking for the same gentleman. Dr. Alcuin.”

  That did seem to surprise him. He leaned forward and pulled out the last empty chair at the table. “Please, sit down,” he invited. “Are you a friend of Dr. Alcuin’s?”

  His German was adequate, but something in his accent made me say, “Are you, English?”

  “I am. My name’s Patrick Haggard.”

  The name was familiar, and with a quick search of me memory, I found it. “Of the Voice?” I asked, naming the journal in which I’d read the article on Silberwald politics.

  His black eyebrows shot up. “Yes.”

  “Then I think you are a friend of my stepsister,” I said, relieved.

  Now his eyes definitely widened, and he didn’t look so forbidding. “Good God. Are you Lady Guinevere? What the devil are you doing in this place?” He made to stand as if to drag me out, so I hastily covered his large hand with mine.

  “No, wait. I don’t mean to stay. It’s just vitally important that I reach Dr. Alcuin. Do you know him?”

  “We haven’t met. I was hoping to discuss things with him for a follow-up piece on Silberwald. There is great interest at home since Lady Augusta’s marriage. Are you ill?”

  “Oh no, I’m fine,” I assured him. “I just need to talk to him. Do you know where I can reach him?”

  “No, not yet.” His cool eyes regarded me for a long moment. Without lifting his gaze, he said in German, “These gentlemen are members of an organised but secret opposition to the present duke’s government. During the revolution, they were students, radicals, involved in the demonstrations put down by the old duke’s troops. I won’t introduce you, since it probably isn’t good for you to know each other in the circumstances. But they are acquainted with Dr. Alcuin.”

  The two young men frowned, but nodded warily, as if not quite sure
what they were admitting and to whom.

  I said, “You’re telling me Dr. Alcuin is a radical, opposed to the duke’s regime? I suppose that makes sense.”

  “It does?” I thought there was a hint of fascination in Mr. Haggard’s hard stare.

  I turned to the young radicals. “I wonder if you’d be kind enough to give me Dr. Alcuin’s address?”

  One of them, the plumper blond one, opened his mouth to speak, but his friend nudged him none too gently, and he closed his lips instead into an apologetic smile.

  “We don’t know it exactly,” the darker one said. “But we can find out and let you know.”

  “It would be better,” Mr. Haggard said before I could reply, “if you let me know. Since I need to see him anyway.”

  “We can get a message to him,” the blond radical assured us.

  “Who’s your friend?” Mr. Haggard asked, nodding towards the table in the corner, where Colonel Friedrich was showing a piece of paper to the many bleary-eyed occupants.

  “I’m not sure he’d want you to know,” I said candidly. “But I think he’s a good man.”

  As I spoke, the colonel straightened and walked determinedly back towards me.

  “You think?” Mr. Haggard repeated, raising one eyebrow, “Perhaps I should take you back to the—back home.”

  “There’s no need,” I assured him, by which time Friedrich was beside me. He didn’t show his paper to my companions, but stood glaring at Mr. Haggard. I stood up. “Thank you, gentlemen, for your help.”

  “I’ve been invited to the palace reception tomorrow.” Mr. Haggard said, switching back to English. He seemed more amused than offended by Friedrich’s antagonism. “In company with the British ambassador. I hope I’ll see you then.”

  “So do I,” I said cordially.

  It was a physical relief to make it out into the merely fetid air of the street.

  Friedrich said, “I take it you found who you were looking for?”

  “Well, I found someone who knows him.”

  The colonel’s shoulders relaxed, as if that was one anxiety off his mind. “Then the Englishman is not your lover?”