Even Bernardo DuQuelle began to make sense. He tried to divert the world with his banter and his flippant observations. He confused most people and many disliked him. They saw him as affected and distant; removed from life. But this was not the essence of DuQuelle. Life wasn’t just around him – it was inside him. She’d almost forgotten that in learning about humanity, Bernardo DuQuelle had absorbed it. He might pretend otherwise, by making inappropriate jokes and hiding behind his endless learning, but he understood friendship and he believed in good. For the first time, she could see, just a tiny way, into his mind. And now she knew for certain: he could feel fear. She took his hand.
‘You’re scared,’ she said. ‘I’m scared too.’
He gave her hand the tiniest squeeze back. ‘You see the choice, and very soon it must be made. Who knows how any of us would act in the face of such temptation? Let us both try to be brave.’
There was a soft thudding against the door, as if something were piling up on the other side. ‘Knock, knock; who’s there?’ DuQuelle said in one of his feeble attempts at humour. ‘Mustn’t keep them waiting.’
As Katie began to protest, DuQuelle took the tip of his walking stick and gave her a slight tap on the head. ‘I don’t know, Katie, whether you will be the making of me, or the destruction of me. So much conflict, and so many questions; they do fill your world with adventure.’ Flinging back his cloak, and raising his walking stick, he strode to the small wooden door and flung it open.
A cascade of snakes fell through the door. Thin and shiny, thick and spongy, small light green ones glowed in the night while the scaled diamond patterns of others reflected the moon. They writhed and slid to the top of the tower and began to mass against the buttresses. For Katie, this was a new horror. She hated snakes. If she wasn’t killed by Belzen, she’d be smothered by snakes.
And then Lord Belzen was before them. After the attack on Prince Albert, the drama of the night and the snakes, the appearance of Lord Belzen seemed almost anti-climactic. One would have passed him unawares on the street; an elegant, slender man of medium height: far more ‘normal’ than Bernardo DuQuelle. It was his movement that always gave him away. There was a strange disjoint in his walk, as if it had been learned by reading a manual. His neck seemed too long and his head too small. An almost imperceptible wave moved through his body from his toes to the top of his head. And then his hands, beneath his gloves . . . Katie shuddered. Really, he was much worse than the snakes.
His voice too was a surprise – modulated and refined, until he became angry.
‘Bernardo DuQuelle,’ he said quietly, ‘always in the way. You cannot wait to protect these . . . beings. Why is that, when they only ridicule you? Either be of use to me or step aside. It will take me no time to dispatch you.’ Around the top of the tower, the snakes lifted their heads, unblinking and alert, their forked tongues flickering at the voice of their master.
Bernardo DuQuelle was both amused and repulsed. ‘Snakes,’ he said, ‘the biblical symbol of evil. A banal choice, and yet effective . . .’
The snakes looped around Katie’s ankles and began to urge her towards Lord Belzen. Though unwilling, she moved with them. The alternative was falling backwards into a pile of overly excited snakes.
DuQuelle reached out and pulled Katie close. ‘Why do you want her?’
Lord Belzen’s eyes narrowed. Katie noticed they had the same unblinking alertness of the snakes beneath her feet. ‘No one wants her,’ he replied. ‘Neither her father, nor her mother. The housekeeper is paid to care for her. Even here, her beloved friends have found each other and left her behind. That is what made her so deliciously vulnerable.’
Lord Belzen had found Katie’s weakest point. It was the dark corner of her mind she had tried to avoid: no one wanted her. Her heart became cold and her body stiff. Looking up, for the first time she stared directly into Lord Belzen’s eyes. There was no warmth or acceptance, but the promise of power: an ugly way to defeat them all. Katie struggled against it.
‘She’s not really a good person,’ Belzen continued. ‘Not talented or beautiful or brilliant. But power will bring her rewards beyond any of these gifts. She will come with me, and she will do my bidding, because there is nothing of greater value than power.’ But Katie had made her choice. She knew what to do.
DuQuelle locked eyes with Lord Belzen. ‘You understand humanity well,’ he said. ‘Power is to them an elixir. Yet still, you overrate it. The people of this world – they understand friendship and love, charity and hope. They will sacrifice much for these things.’ He took Katie by the shoulders and shook her slightly. ‘Pay attention. The moment has come. If you intervene, it will be the end for all of us. You must not look, not one glance, at what is about to happen. You must run, as fast as you can, through the door, and back to the Castle.’
He held her close for a moment. Katie noted, with surprise, that his usual chill was gone. Something stirred within him. Could it be the warm pulse of human blood? Turning back to Lord Belzen, DuQuelle laid his walking stick at his feet. ‘I can do no more. You cannot kill me. But if you want her you must destroy me, dismantle me, whatever it takes to be rid of me.’ The wind picked up; it was now near to gale force. The clouds, in their eagerness to race across the sky, crashed into each other.
Lord Belzen looked at Bernardo DuQuelle with contempt. ‘It was bound to happen. After thousands of years living amongst them, you have adopted their weaknesses.’ For a moment, all was still. And then Lord Belzen began to change. The undulation of his body became rapid and pronounced; his neck became longer, his head streamlined.
DuQuelle pushed Katie towards the door. ‘Do not make this a useless sacrifice, run!’ The snakes around her feet began to climb up her legs, binding her. From behind she could hear DuQuelle struggling. The shout he gave filled the air with fury, fear and pain, a bellowing revolt that could only be human.
The clouds blotted out the moon. Near her, in the dark, the cries became louder and more desperate. DuQuelle had ordered her to flee, but she knew she could not leave him. Not with that agony ringing in her ears. DuQuelle might not be completely human, but he was her friend. If he planned to sacrifice himself for her, then she could turn the tables. She must battle with Lord Belzen. Steeling herself, she kicked hard, shaking the snakes from her legs, and raised her walking stick to attack. Her eyes adjusted to a dreadful sight. DuQuelle was on his knees, gasping and struggling. But what was that thing lashing out to attack him? Could the repulsive shape really be Lord Belzen, transformed through his evil? Katie ran towards them, swinging her walking stick to cut a path through the snakes.
And then the heavens opened. The rain spat down, needles of freezing steel, followed by hard, sharp pellets of ice. The snakes lifted their narrow heads and hissed in alarm. One by one they were struck down and beaten back. They retreated from the elements to the edge of the battlements, and then went over – hurtling through the air to be crushed against the icy snow below. The wind rose into a frenzy and the clouds clashed high in the sky, striking each other again and again, creating a lightning of great power. It looked as if the sky were on fire.
Above the clouds and deep in the skies an even brighter light shone. Rain, wind and fire pelted the earth – all of the elements bound together. It was Lucia, Katie realized. She contained within her all the elements: wind, fire, water and air. Katie could guess from what was happening in the skies above that Lucia was very angry. But who would bear the brunt of her fury? Lucia and the Verus believed in a particularly stringent type of good – disciplined and strong minded. With Katie’s behaviour of the past ten days, she just might be the object of Lucia’s wrath.
The light became brighter and brighter, joining the wind and rushing across the battlements of the Round Tower. It tore past Katie, knocking her over, and seemed to position itself as a barrier between Bernardo DuQuelle and Lord Belzen. Katie, cold, terrified and dizzy, could see that the two forces – the dark serpent and the bright light – were e
ach weakened by the other. Lord Belzen finally slunk down and coiled in upon himself, a large black rubbery mass. When he rose again, he was a man. The light flickered and waived; a shape, also human, could now be seen within it. A woman, with brittle delicate features emerged: eyes the blue of a sharp winter sky, blonde hair streaming behind her, like the foam on the waves of a stormy sea.
Bernardo DuQuelle struggled to his feet and limped to Katie’s side. ‘Lucia,’ he gasped. ‘Do not harm the girl.’
Lucia laughed, shrill and high, ‘Harm her? This girl? She proved herself at the Battle of Balaclava and destroyed evil at the Charge of the Light Brigade. She has freed herself from the Great Experiment. And tonight she has chosen friendship, protecting you, even at the risk of her own life. Most important of all, she has chosen peace. And some day, in another time, and another place, she will use her gift for words to convince others: they must choose peace as well. Harm her? I have come to save her. Something you, M. DuQuelle, are now too human to achieve.’
She was cut short by Lord Belzen. He might have returned to human form, but only just. His skin glistened and sparkled with scales, his nostrils lengthened across his lean face as black slits.
‘You can halt me, Lucia, briefly, but you cannot stop me.’ He caught Katie’s eye and she could not look away. That strange unblinking serpent’s eye. ‘You, Lucia, might have the very elements to serve you, but I bring my own changelings.’ His body swayed, a single strong thrust, and then he held back his cloak. At his feet were a cluster of eggs. They were larger than ostrich eggs, with a leathery wrinkled outer shell. Snakes’ eggs. They began to vibrate slightly, and then crack. ‘What shall hatch?’ Lord Belzen asked.
The gap in one great egg grew wider, and a small wizened hand reached out to pull the shell apart. The form wriggled free. It was not a snake, but a child. A girl with large eyes set in a skeletal face, the skin burnished and taut across her cheekbones. The child’s stomach was grotesquely swollen, sticking out from the rags bound around her and held up by thin spindly legs.
‘But this child is starving!’ Katie cried.
Lord Belzen smiled as the child mewled and cried, pushing her away with his beautifully polished shoe. ‘Famine and need. What more could I want? A lovely start to war and greed.’
The next egg broke open. A boy emerged, this time his eyes were hard and mean, his nose snout-like. He began to shout and curse. Katie backed away from him. ‘Ignorance,’ Lord Belzen cooed.
The third egg was quite different; larger than the others, strong and white and beautiful to behold. Out of the egg came a golden-haired boy with fine white teeth and shining eyes. He smiled and laughed in the most appealing way. But when he saw the other children, he scowled and pushed them to the ground, riffling through their rags looking for something, anything, to take. ‘He is attractive, yes?’ Belzen said. ‘He will dominate and win. Don’t you recognize him? He is of your nations. He is the one that bullies his neighbours, enslaves other peoples and builds your empires. Surely you must recognize empire and power?’
As each egg hatched, Lucia grew weaker. Her light dimmed and the wind began to die down. Bernardo DuQuelle inched towards Katie. ‘Lucia cannot hold him,’ he whispered. ‘His offspring are too potent. She will produce what she can: prosperity, knowledge, tolerance, equality. They will be beautiful to see, but there is never quite enough good to go round in this world.’
Now DuQuelle took Katie by the hand and pulled her down through the low wooden door. ‘We’d best be quick. They need to be alerted in the Prince’s sick chamber.’ Katie looked askance, but DuQuelle’s face had reformed into an impersonal mask. ‘Belzen has failed to gain your spirit,’ he told her, ‘but there is still much to play for. The war in America, Lord Belzen hopes it will spread throughout the world. For this, Lord Belzen seeks Prince Albert. The Prince is a pure man and cannot be corrupted. If Lord Belzen is unable to take the Prince’s soul, he will settle for his body.’
Chapter Fifteen
The Brink of War
With a foot in both worlds, Bernardo DuQuelle understood, and spoke the truth. The Queen, her children, the courtiers and the doctors all watched and prayed and worked to save the life of Prince Albert. They could sense a struggle around them that they could not see. Lucia and Belzen on opposite poles: light and dark, peace and war, life and death. The Castle was their battleground and Prince Albert their prize. The tension and gloom lay thick in the Castle. Even on a bright winter morning, Katie felt as if she was walking through cobwebs.
The Queen paced the Grand Corridor, wringing her hands and talking to herself. ‘His face has become a foreign face . . . what is happening . . . where has my dear Albert gone?’ she cried. Behind her followed a stream of her ladies. They too wrung their hands and wailed.
Bernardo DuQuelle, entering the corridor, looked momentarily annoyed. ‘This is a fine way to treat a sick man,’ he muttered to Katie, as one of the Queen’s Pekinese nipped at his heels. ‘Where is James O’Reilly?’
Alice and James came out of the sickroom. ‘The Queen does hinder progress,’ James admitted. ‘She runs into the sickroom, bursts into tears and demands “ein Kuss” a kiss from the Prince. One cannot banish the Queen from her own Castle, though at times I wish we could. Thank goodness for Princess Alice. She not only nurses her father tenderly, but finds ways to keep her mother occupied. She has suggested the Queen take a long walk in Windsor Great Park.’
Katie looked at her friends. Her mind free of Belzen’s influence, she saw two caring, loving people working together to do good in the world. It was an impressive sight.
The Castle was in such disarray, that Katie could come and go as she pleased, unchallenged. All four entered the Prince Consort’s dressing room. Prince Albert leaned back in a large upholstered chair, panting slightly. For once he was without his valets, the courtiers or the doctors. The morning light shone through the windows.
‘I love this room,’ he murmured. ‘It is so very bright. I have been listening to the dawn chorus. Oh, the winter birds . . . they come to this day with so much joy.’ His little speech had cost him much, and he closed his eyes, exhausted.
Alice knelt next to the chair and brushed back his hair gently. ‘Father, wouldn’t you like to lie down? The bed will be so much more comfortable.’ The Prince did not respond and for a moment all thought he was asleep. A change came across his face, a trace of peace. James started to mix some medicines, but Prince Albert sat up and took his hand. ‘Ernst,’ he said in excited German, ‘it is so crisp and cold. Do you think the swan pond has frozen over? We could skate today!’
‘Why does he say Ernst?’ Katie whispered to DuQuelle.
Prince Albert turned at her voice and smiled widely. ‘Mutter,’ he said, ‘do let us skate. We will study tomorrow. You are so soft-hearted I know you will say yes!’ Katie backed away, startled by his outburst. ‘Mutter!’ he cried, ‘do not leave us, Father will forgive you. Ernst and I need you . . .’ he fell back, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
‘This is very bad indeed,’ DuQuelle muttered. ‘The decline is so rapid, and there is still much he needs to do.’ James began to warm something over a spirit lamp, but DuQuelle stopped him. ‘I am not a doctor, but I suggest you do not administer any further medicine for some hours. He is delirious as it is. Prince Albert believes he is back in the Schloss Rosenau, his childhood home. James, he thought you were his brother Ernst and you, Katie, his beloved mother.’
‘Did his mother leave him?’ Katie asked. DuQuelle seemed to go back through time too. He studied his walking stick, seeing something the rest of them could not. ‘A mother had no part in my creation,’ he admitted. ‘But they do seem terribly important in your formation of life. So nourishing and damaging at the same time . . . Yes, his mother left him. Banished by his father, for behaviour much less outrageous than that of your mother, Katie. And Princess Alice, I do not admire that look of condemnation in your eyes. She was a good woman who loved her babies dear
ly, rather weak, but sweet-natured. God rest her soul, she is long gone, stricken down by a terrible cancer. I knew her well . . .’
The room was silent, as they thought of their own mothers. Prince Albert sat up and then tried to stand. ‘The red boxes,’ he demanded, ‘pass me the red boxes.’
‘What is it now?’ Katie asked.
Bernardo DuQuelle shook his head with a mixture of anxiety and admiration. ‘Here is a man who is true to himself,’ he said. ‘He wants to work. The red boxes, the government dispatches. The Prince has worked through them with the Queen, side by side, since early in their marriage.’
‘Oh, but he shouldn’t exert himself,’ Alice admonished. ‘It will kill him.’
DuQuelle smiled his strange, joyless smile. ‘This toil has already killed him. But to work now will ease his pain.’ Turning on his heel, he left the room, returning almost immediately with the red boxes. ‘Ah,’ he was heard to mutter, ‘perhaps, even yet, it is not too late.’
Katie had a sneaking suspicion DuQuelle had been waiting for this moment. The boxes were placed on a side table, next to the Prince’s chair. Prince Albert fussed, opening one and then the other. Knocking one to the floor, he rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes again. It looked as if he had given up. But Bernardo DuQuelle came forward, and bowing, spoke respectfully. ‘Your Royal Highness, please do let me be of assistance.’
A look of great irritation settled on Prince Albert’s face. Bernardo DuQuelle: Private Secretary to the Prince, keeper of the Queen’s archives, curator of the Queen’s collections . . . ‘Aide extraordinaire, and pain in the ASS!’ the Prince exploded.
‘Father!’ Alice cried out, but DuQuelle raised a silencing hand.
‘You are quite right, sir. You are a man of dignity. You try to protect your privacy. Yet I have been here, since the day you arrived in Britain, poking and prying. I am sorry. Our time together will be over shortly. I wish you to know, I admire and respect you.’ DuQuelle usually addressed the Royal Family in a bizarrely embellished and flowery manner, the speech patterns of a courtier. But today he spoke in a plain, almost bald manner.
The Chronicles of the Tempus Page 58