“What is your intention?” Quintillus demanded. “To trap us here? In this room?”
Arsinoe raised her arm. “Foolish man, meddling with powers you could not comprehend. You deserve your fate almost as much as my sister deserves hers.”
A shaft of green light tore through the room and the flickering shadow of Set took substance on the wall where the picture had been. He raised his staff and a beam of hot white light shot out from it. The walls trembled and cracks appeared, scything down the plaster.
Quintillus backed away. Cleopatra stared. Transfixed.
Arsinoe’s voice echoed around the room. “I damn you. For all time. You shall have no rest. Not for all eternity. You shall know this hell on earth, as I have known it in the world beyond. The unquiet souls of this house shall be your companions and the man now at your side will never leave you.”
* * * *
Arsinoe left them there and walked steadily along the corridor. Behind her, the door slammed. Under her feet, a faint rumbling began and she quickened her step. She must return upstairs now. Set was already hard at work.
She mounted the steps. A long, agonized wail issued from below.
“Arsinoe!”
She paused for a second and smiled. Then hurried up to the library.
She closed the door. It began to seal into a smooth wooden panel. As she watched, the lock and handle disappeared as if they had never been there.
In the room that had been Quintillus’s bedroom and in the kitchen, the entrances leading to the basement were obliterated. Only the one in the hall, leading to the kitchen, wine cellar and servants’ areas remained.
The house settled into silence. The basement kept its secrets. For now.
Part Three
1964
Chapter 15
The Königsberg House, Hietzing, Vienna
Count Markus von Dürnstein tapped his gold pen against his teeth. “So, there are more rooms down there?”
The fresh-faced young architect he had engaged sat back in his chair in the sumptuous library. He seemed to be trying to contain his excitement, concerned, no doubt, to maintain a professional image in front of this important and influential new client. Markus was used to this. In his position, controlling a number of multi-million dollar organizations, people tended to tread warily around him. They fought hard for his business. Losing it could have an immediate and detrimental effect on their careers,
Dieter Scheidegger had demonstrated talent and creative flair in the renovation and restoration plans he had designed and carried out for Markus. This latest project—if it was to come off—would be an even bigger commission for him and the company he worked for.
Above the two men, the newly restored Klimt ceiling gleamed with fresh gold leaf. Markus glanced up at it, a fleeting memory of the peeling paint and flaking gold of a few months ago flashed through his mind.
Dieter Scheidegger cleared his throat. “By my estimation, sir, some of the area down there has been sealed off at some point, but so skillfully, it looks like it was constructed that way. At present there is no access, but I’m sure that can be addressed. Of course, in a number of cases, these large houses were constructed with doorways in some of the rooms, with stairs leading down to the bowels of the building. Secret passages if you prefer. But, at present I haven’t found any here.”
Markus von Dürnstein laid his pen down and sat forward. He rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. Could he trust this man? It seemed he had little alternative.
“As you know, I inherited this house last year from my uncle, Count Karl von Königsberg. He was a very old man when he died, but he told me the strangest tale once.”
The architect’s eyebrows raised.
Markus continued, “He said that his younger brother—Wilhelm—and his wife, Irina, bought this place in 1923. The house is named after them. They spoke of finding a strange woman living here at the time, quite unofficially, and taking care of the place. They took pity on her and employed her as their housekeeper. One day, Wilhelm told my Uncle Karl about a fantastic room he had found in the basement, complete with a previously unknown portrait by Gustav Klimt. Soon after that though, Wilhelm, Irina, and the housekeeper all disappeared and were never seen again. Neither my uncle nor I have ever been able to locate the room Wilhelm spoke of. I will confess I had even begun to consider that my uncle might have imagined it all, but it has always seemed odd that the kitchen and service areas below stairs take up so little floor space relative to the size of the building.”
The architect nodded. “That was my first thought. I felt certain there had to be more, but it was certainly well hidden. That is a fantastic story, though. Imagine if we were to drill through and find that room. It would be a little like Howard Carter discovering the tomb of Tutankhamen. Without the curse. Or the body, of course!” The architect laughed.
A cold chill spread over Markus. “Indeed, I fervently hope we do not encounter any such things. My relations were not the only ones to go missing from this house. Some years earlier two men reported the disappearance of their sister—a woman called Magda Varga, a maid here at the time. She was never found.” Markus glanced at his watch. He had a meeting with his accountant in an hour.
“How strange,” Dieter Scheidegger said. “Well I certainly hope we don’t find her.” He laughed and gathered his plans together which he pushed into his briefcase. He stood. “I mustn’t take up any more of your time this morning, sir.” He extended his hand. “Thank you for seeing me. I shall look forward to working with you again.”
Markus stood and shook his hand. “Thank you for coming, Magister Scheidegger. I shall look forward to discussing this in more detail when you have some costings for me.”
“Within the week.” The architect shook Markus’s hand.
After he had left, Markus sat down and tapped his pen against his teeth again, then stopped when he realized he was doing it. An annoying habit that had crept up on him a couple of years ago. Try as he might he couldn’t break it.
He hoped he was doing the right thing by making these alterations. After all, if that room really did exist, there was a potentially valuable Klimt that no one even knew existed, hanging there on a damp wall, gathering dust. Markus was enough of an admirer of the painter to have his curiosity spiked by the prospect of finding such a treasure. As far as he knew, there were no other missing Klimt pictures. All present and accounted for. Either in public or private ownership. Like his ceiling. The thousands of schillings he had spent on restoration had been well worth the investment.
Markus von Dürnstein was not an extravagant man, but he never balked at paying for quality. No doubt this hidden painting—assuming it did exist—would also require restoration but, when and if the time came, he wouldn’t hesitate.
He set his pen down neatly in front of him and pushed his chair back. Straightening his jacket, he strode out into the hall. In the kitchen, the cook nearly dropped her mixing bowl.
“Oh, sir, we weren’t expecting you.” She adjusted her snow-white cap and the kitchen maid curtseyed. The butler appeared from the direction of the wine cellar. All eyes were on their employer, who never ventured below stairs.
“Sorry to disturb you all, but I understand my architect has been down here, investigating the possible existence of some other rooms.”
The butler cleared his throat. Leichner was a well-built man in his fifties with a bullet head and an unparalleled knowledge of vintage wine. He was also unimaginative and, in the eight years he had been in Markus’s employ, the Count couldn’t remember him cracking even a slight smile. But between him and the housekeeper, Frau Palfry, the household ran smoothly.
“Leichner, will you show me where the architect has been concentrating his efforts?”
The butler inclined his head slightly. “Certainly, sir. This way please.”
Markus followed
him past the wine cellar and the butler’s pantry. Ahead of him was a plastered wall punctured by some drill holes.
“Here, sir. Magister Scheidegger brought a man with him. A short man with a rather large and noisy drill.”
Markus leaned forward and peered closely at the holes. They were of a very small circumference. No doubt that would ensure minimum defacing of the wall before a decision had been made whether or not to demolish it.
Markus poked at one of the holes. A slight draft tickled his finger.
“Looks as if the architect was correct. There is something in there. Another room. Maybe more.”
Leichner stepped back. He looked like something had struck him.
“What’s the matter?” Markus asked.
The butler shook his head. A little too vigorously. He was hiding something. But Markus let it drop. He had bigger things on his mind.
“I’m afraid this work is going to mean an awful lot of disruption for you and the staff,” he said. “And a lot of dust and plaster when this wall comes down. I trust you will all be able to cope?”
“Oh yes, sir. I plan to seal this part of the basement off. We can hang some old sheets and the servants and I will arrange it so that the workmen carry out their tasks behind them. In that way, we can minimize the amount of dust and dirt.”
“Perhaps make sure they take their dirty boots off before they traipse through the kitchen.” Markus smiled. He had never doubted Leichner would have already thought the scheme through. Butlers like him were worth the higher than average salary he was paying the man.
A sigh drifted along the corridor. To his amazement, Markus saw his stoic butler flinch. His face paled and his top lip trembled.
“Leichner, whatever’s the matter?”
“N…nothing, sir. Only a draft I expect.”
An uneasy sensation passed through Markus. The second time in almost as few minutes he had felt certain his butler knew something he didn’t. This time he wouldn’t let it pass.
“Something’s happened, Leichner, and I want you to tell me what it is. Good God, man, I’ve never seen you like this. You’re shaking.”
The butler seemed to consider this for a moment. But his profound sense of duty to his employer must have overcome his clear desire to say nothing. “Yes, sir. But, please, not here.”
The man looked absolutely terrified.
“Very well, come up to the library.”
Markus led his butler back through the kitchen, ignoring the bemused expression on the cook’s face.
Up in the library, Leichner stood in front of Markus who sat at the desk.
“Right, Leichner, out with it. What has put you in this state?”
Leichner’s Adam’s apple wobbled. He swallowed hard. “Before I answer you, sir, I must stress that I am not, by nature, a fanciful man.”
“I am aware of that. You are probably the last person I would ever describe as fanciful.”
“So you will understand, sir, that for me to say what I am about to say is only because I have witnessed it with my own eyes. Otherwise I should never have believed it.”
“Witnessed what, Leichner?”
“Sir—it all started when the drilling began last week. Until then, nothing strange or peculiar ever occurred downstairs, but a few hours after the workman left, I happened to be in the wine cellar checking the stock. I felt a slight draft on the back of my neck. Soft. As if someone had breathed on me. It took me by surprise, sir, and I immediately turned round to see who it was. I thought it might be the new maid and was ready to admonish her. But it wasn’t…” His voice faltered. The color had drained from his face.
“Go on, Leichner. Tell me. If it wasn’t the girl, who was it?”
“No one. At least—at least no one…human.”
“What? What do you mean, ‘no one human’? An animal of some kind? Do we have rats down there?”
“Oh, how I wish it were that simple. No, sir, we do not have rats, and no, it wasn’t any animal. I saw a shadow. An impossible shadow. Only for an instant that time. It flashed past, near where I stood. I saw a man in a tall hat… Sir, I realize how this must sound.”
Markus tried to take it all in. Had his butler experienced some kind of brainstorm? He certainly looked sincere. He must believe it himself. Surely Leichner lacked the imagination to invent something like this. Maybe he should call on the services of a psychiatrist. Perhaps the man had been working too hard. Markus could send him away to his country home in Styria for a few weeks. The clean rural air would set him to rights and put all this nonsense out of his head.
“Leichner. I realize such an experience would be highly unnerving and disorientating for you. The brain is a strange organ. It does so much for us, but in times of stress it can also turn on us. Make us believe things we know cannot be true, and imagine things that aren’t there. When did you last take a vacation? I certainly can’t remember you taking more than the odd day here and there.” Thinking about it, Markus couldn’t remember a single year when his butler had taken any significant amount of time off.
The butler shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I know what I have said must sound impossible. I tried to dismiss it, too. Some kind of optical illusion. A trick of the light—”
“Precisely.”
“I almost managed to convince myself. But then I saw it again. And this time, I have no doubt in my mind that what I witnessed was actually there.”
Markus’s relief evaporated.
His initial reluctance gone, the butler seemed anxious to pour all his experiences out in some sort of cathartic tidal wave. Markus could only sit and listen, growing increasingly concerned about his butler’s mental state.
“It was yesterday. Once again I had gone down into the wine cellar. Just as before, I heard a sigh, felt a draft on my neck. This time, I moved quicker. I spun around and saw the shadow pass out of the room. I dashed out into the corridor and saw the man, as clear as I can see you. He was tall, dressed in a top hat of the sort the American President wore. Lincoln. He wore a long, old-fashioned jacket and his hair was so long, it seemed half way down his back. He stopped. Maybe he had heard me. I froze on the spot and I don’t mind telling you sir that it was through sheer terror. I knew this man couldn’t be human. Maybe he had never been human. And the smell. As if something had died long ago and never been buried. Then he turned around. His eyes bored into me. His face was deathly white…at least the part not covered by a beard. His lips were set firm. I don’t know how long we stood there. He stood some yards away, a few feet from the wall that is to come down. Then, he seemed to fade. He went from a solid form to a shadowy mist in a few seconds. Then the mist disappeared through the drill holes and was gone. I tell you, sir, it was a few minutes before I could breathe normally again. Even longer before I trusted myself to walk away from there.”
Markus blinked and tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts. What should he do about this? His butler was clearly having some kind of a mental breakdown. Maybe the vacation in Styria would be a first resort. If that didn’t set him to rights, then medical help would have to be sought.
“Have you told anyone else about this? Frau Palfry for example?”
The butler shook his head. “No, sir, you are the only one I have told, and I wouldn’t have mentioned it to you but for what happened down there. Whatever it is has been let into this house by that drilling. I implore you, sir, don’t fetch that wall down. Seal up those holes. The rest of the basement was sealed up for a reason and it needs to stay that way.”
Markus wouldn’t have been surprised if Leichner hadn’t sunk to his knees, so anxious were his pleas. He must convince the butler to take the vacation he so desperately needed.
“I appreciate your dedication to your job and your hard work and untiring efforts on my behalf, Leichner, but I must be a responsible employer here. I can see you ar
e tired and exhausted. You haven’t taken a proper vacation in years and I am telling you to take a month off on full pay. You can travel to my house near Trautenfels. You have been there on a number of occasions when you have accompanied me. I believe you have enjoyed the beautiful scenery and countryside?”
“Yes, indeed, sir, it is very beautiful, but—”
“No ‘buts’, Leichner. I will not take a refusal from you. You need a vacation. I blame myself entirely. I should have seen this coming. I know you take a great pride in your work, but Frau Palfry is very capable. She will run things in your absence and when you come back, refreshed and clear-minded once more, you will be able to take charge again.”
Far from showing any pleasure or gratitude, Leichner looked even more shaken and desperate. “But, sir, I implore you, please don’t go ahead with this work. You’ll unleash untold evil into this house. There’s something behind that wall that should never be allowed out of there.”
Markus moved out from behind the desk and pushed the bell on the wall near the fireplace.
“Go and pack your suitcase, Leichner. I will instruct Frau Palfry to tell Schmidt to drive you in my car.” Leichner opened his mouth to speak once more. “No, I will hear no more of this. Go and pack your suitcase. You will leave within the hour. Enjoy your vacation. You have well and truly earned it. I will inform the staff at Trautenfels to expect you and to grant your every wish as if it were my own.”
Leichner had sufficient experience to recognize when he was defeated. He lowered his head.
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
He turned to go as Frau Palfry entered the room. She frowned at Leichner’s expression. Clearly, she wasn’t used to seeing the butler in this condition, either.
After he had told her of Leichner’s imminent departure for his vacation, Markus asked her, “Have you seen or heard anything strange since the drilling began?”
Frau Palfry’s eyes widened. By her expression, she seemed to be wondering if her employer had experienced some kind of blow to the head.
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